A New Day!

Don’t Know Much About…

John 17:6-19

After the supper, and after giving his final teaching to his followers, Jesus prayed to God, saying:
Father, you have given me some followers from this world,
……..and I have given them the full picture of what you are like.
They were yours to begin with but you gave them to me,
…………….and they have done what you asked of them.
Now they know for sure that everything I have was given to me directly by you.
I gave my followers the same message you gave to me.
……..They took it on board and were convinced that I came from you. They believe that it was you who sent me. I pray for them.
My prayer is not for this hell-bent world
……..but for the followers you gave me, for they are rightfully yours.
Everything that is mine is yours,
……..and everything that is yours is mine,
…………….and my image lights up in them.
I will no longer be seen in the world, but they will continue on in the world.

while I come back to you.
Holy Father, protect them by writing your name on them,
…………….giving them the same identity you gave me, so that they will be one with each other,
…………….just as you and I are one in heart and mind.
While I was with them, I kept them safe
……..by assigning to them the name you gave me.
I stood guard over them, and didn’t lose a single one,
……..except the one who was lost from the beginning,
…………….the one whose demise showed the Scriptures to be true.
Now I am on my way to you.
I say these things while the world is still in earshot,
……..so that those who listen may, like me,
…………….experience a joy that goes right off the scale.
I have given them your message,
……..and now this godless world can’t stand them,
because they won’t play by the world’s rules,
……..just as I never played by the world’s rules.
I am not asking you to take them out of the world,
……..but I do ask that you keep them safe from the evil one.
They don’t take their cues from this world,
……..because my dance has a different tune.
Immerse them in truth to make them a sacred people,
……..for your word is the truth which makes things holy.
Just as you sent me into the world on your mission,
……..so now I am sending them into the world.
I have dedicated myself one hundred percent, for their sake,
……..so that they in turn may commit themselves totally to the truth.

Don’t Know Much About

God,

You bring us together

So that we might draw close to

You

Each other

This world

For the sake of the world

You draw us together, to gather around truth:

That you are seen in the stranger

That bread and wine are kingdom food

That baptism is a kingdom bath

That you love us to the end of the Earth

And one step further

We are here, Lord

Remind us again today.

Amen

“Don’t know much about history.  Don’t know much biology.  Don’t know much about a science book.  Don’t know much about the French I took…”

Anyone know that one?  Sam Cooke, right?

Well, according to the June issue of Reader’s Digest, we could add a few verses to Cooke’s song.  One would be, “Don’t know much about heliocentricity…” Yeah, that’s right, that the Earth revolves around the sun.  20% of Americans think that the sun revolves around the earth.

“Don’t know much about the Gregorian calendar…”  According to a recent study, less than half (47%) of Americans don’t know how long it takes the earth to revolve around the sun.  I’ll give you 365 guesses…go.

“Don’t know much about the Mesozoic Period…” Only 59% of adults know that the earliest humans and dinosaurs did not live at the same time.

“Don’t know much about the Bayou…” Less than six months after Hurricane Katrina, one third of those surveyed couldn’t point to Louisiana on a map.

And there are more, of course.  There are lots of facts that we, humanity, mess up all the time.  There are a number of truths that we don’t know.  In fact, one such truth is that Rhonda and I don’t know how we’re getting Reader’s Digest!  It just started showing up one day with our name on it!

You know, we spend a lot of time in this world trying to figure out “the truth,” however that might be defined.  And I think the classic definition that most people use for “truth” is “fact.”  We spend a lot of time trying to figure out the facts of a given situation.

In fact, with the onset of Dragnet, we’ve made it into a tagline.  What’s that tagline from Dragnet?  “Just the facts, ma’am.”

We want to know the facts, we want to know the causal relationships behind events…but we often get our facts wrong., and that’s why we need to be careful.  Truth is not always dependent on fact, and vice versa.

Case in point:

This past week I was walking to a local eatery that I hadn’t been before.  And I was crossing the street with the eatery directly in my view.  It had large, huge windows, and so I could see in.  And inside, there were these two women behind the counter, employees, and they were gesturing wildly.  As I got close, I could see better.  They were doing this-

(wild, pointing gestures with angry faces)

Now, let’s suppose I walk in and say, “Good evening, how are you?  What do you think the answer will be?”

Right.  I imagine it’d be “fine” (I didn’t walk in, by the way…getting pastors in the middle of disputes is dangerous…we feel the need to fix things…)

But I imagine that “fine” would be the answer.  But the fact is, they were fighting.  Does that mean that things aren’t fine?  No.  Not necessarily.  They could be perfectly content fighting, and perhaps their fighting would have nothing to do with me, and therefore in relation to me, their evening was perfectly fine.

But you see, fact does not always equal truth.  There is interpretation, internalization, that goes on there.  And it’s important  to say that because, in a world where people want you to buy and believe things based solely off of what they call “fact,” we have to think about these things.

And I’m not speaking only about the secular world, either.  There is plenty, perhaps more, that the religious world feeds a person and expects them to take as fact without thinking about it.  But we must think, we must call these things into dialogue with  our experience and our relationships.

But, it can cause some unease, some panic, when you call long-held “facts” into question.

On Thursday evening I sat down at my desk at the end of the day to jot down a few notes, and I ended up writing a blog that I titled “5 Phrases I Think Christians Shouldn’t Say.”  Frankly, I didn’t spend a whole lot of time on it.

The blog consists of five common phrases that I’ve heard people say or tell me over the years, many of which I’ve said myself at one time or another.  And I call them into question; I suggest that they may not be as helpful…or truthful…as people might think they are.

And I did not expect the reaction I received.  In two days the list got over 50,000 individual views.  I received over 100 emails about it, and it had over 150 comments.  People were grateful, offended, mad, challenged, overjoyed…the responses were all over the place.

What was most interesting to me was that the majority of those who identified themselves as either offended or who thought I was a raging heretic were Christians.  The atheists and agnostics who read the list thanked me for being a Christian who actually thought about things.

That fact made me sad.  We, my friends, are doing a poor job of engaging the life of the mind if people don’t know that there are thinking Christians in the world…

If you want to read the list it’s on my blog and you can get to it on Facebook, but I’ll tell you the number one phrase the people were most upset about: I suggested we should stop using the phrase, “It’s all a part of God’s plan…”

This really made people angry…and that phrase really makes me angry.  Because I don’t think it’s all a part of God’s plan for your life that you lost your baby.  I don’t think it’s all a part of God’s plan for this world that 16000 children will die today from hunger.  I don’t think it’s all a part of God’s plan that you’re divorcing, that your house is underwater, that your child is in rehab, that you are in rehab…or that you’re not in rehab.

You see, when we start talking about life-trajectory as if we’re naming the capital of Alaska, when we begin to say that xyz are specifically God ordained, then we begin to have a God who is vindictive, playing chess with humanity.

That god looks more like Zeus or Pluto, not like the relational God that we have shown to us in Scripture.

But people don’t want to hear that because, well, it’s comforting to believe that God is in control, but there is a difference, see, between saying that God is in control and God is causing each individual action to happen.  And until we fully internalize that difference, we’ll be living under the thumb of a God who causes me to get into a car wreck, who causes an earthquake to hit northern Italy, who has sent a hurricane to teach Miami a lesson.

That’s no God; that’s a tyrant.

And that’s not the God that Jesus shows us.

In short: that’s not true.

At the end of this long prayer in the Gospel of John, Jesus says about his disciples, “Immerse them in the truth to make them a sacred people, for your word is the truth which makes things holy.”

This truth, though, is not a long list of facts.  Jesus is not begging that the people be immersed, bathed, in an encyclopedia.  Nor is he, as some might suggest, imagining that the people be immersed in the Bible.  You must remember that scripture had not been canonized yet, had not fully been put together…they only had the Hebrew portion of the scriptures.

So what word was Jesus referring to?

Think back to the beginning of John, the very first chapter.  “In the beginning was the…” What?

Yes, “Word.”  Logos.  Logic, is another way to translate that.  In the Gospel of John, the “word” is Jesus.  That is, if you ever wondered what God thinks about you, about humanity, about the world, about creation, God has spoken about it in Jesus.

Look to Jesus.

And Jesus spoke a word of peace and wholeness in his actions with the stranger.  He spoke a word of radical justice as he threw the money changers out of the temple.  He spoke a hard word of repentance to a people trapped in bondage to those things that they could not free themselves from.  He showed love in his tender care for Lazarus, his washing of his disciples feet, and his unifying call of accomplishment from the cross.

This is the truth that Jesus points to.  It’s not a fact, it’s a figure…literally a figure.  The figure of the Christ.  The logic of God is an ethics of love.

In Christ we see how far God is willing to go to be with humanity: unto death and one step beyond.

So, if in Christ we see that God desires healing, wholeness, repentance (and gives forgiveness), and love…why do we think God had anything to do with that earthquake, that cancer diagnosis, that brain tumor, that slide into dementia, that abusive wife or husband?

Wouldn’t we, instead, see God in getting us through that diagnosis, giving us the power to leave that abusive relationship, moving through the hands of aid workers as they empty the tombs of rubble, bursting them forth as God did on that Easter Sunday?  Wouldn’t we see God in weeping with us over the death of a loved one and remembering for us while we’re in dementia during this Holy Supper where we gather to remember him?

Yes.  That is truth.

We get so hung up on facts, my friends…and it turns out, we’re not very good at remembering them.  So, instead of facts, today enter into a relationship with the God who provides for us a figure: Jesus the Christ.

And, while it’s sad that three in four Americans can name the Three Stooges but only two in five can name the three branches of the U.S. Government, a relationship with God is not like that kind of formula, it’s not that kind of fact.

Immerse yourself in the Christ who speaks a better truth today, and commit yourself to the knowledge that that peace, wholeness, repentance, and love are what God in Christ desires for our lives, for the world, for all.

Amen.

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It’s the Small Things

John 15:1-8

I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower. ²He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. ³You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you. ⁴Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. ⁵I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. ⁶Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. ⁷If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. ⁸My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.

It’s the Small Things

God of Peace,

Today we hold in our hearts

Daughters

Sons

Young and old

Who have been turned by violence

Turned into people of revenge

Turned into people of pain

Turned into people

Who don’t know who they are anymore

Re-graft us onto you

Onto your love

Your hope

Your identity for us

In the name of the true vine,

Amen

 

Any Cool Hand Luke fans in the congregation?

 

There’s this great scene where Paul Newman is plunking away at his banjo in the jail cell.  And he sings:

I don't care if it rains or freezes
As long as I've got my plastic Jesus
Glued to the dashboard of my car
You can buy Him phosphorescent
Glows in the dark, He's pink and pleasant
Take Him with you when you're traveling far

A silly song, yes?  We used to sing it in the car all the time.

 

The premise, too, is silly.  We put a plastic statue of Jesus on the dashboard of the car and what’s it supposed to do?  Right: keep us safe.

 

Or we bury Joseph upside-down in our yard and what’s it supposed to do?  Sell the house.  Right.  Although, we could never remember if Joseph is supposed to face the house or the road in my family…

 

These superstitions, they’re kind of wacky.  But they’re really prevalent.  Watch baseball and you’ll see batters wrap and unwrap their batting gloves; sit in a restaurant and you’ll watch people throw salt over their shoulders.  We hold our breath going by graveyards; we pick up pennies only if Lincoln’s face is showing, we make wishes on fallen eyelashes and falling stars.

 

These are strongly held convictions that, somehow, it’s the small things that control the large things in the world, right?  A statue here, held breath there, and life is changed.

 

We think it’s the small things.

 

And why do we have these superstitions, why do we do these small things?  Sometimes it’s to get what we want: to sell a house, to get a wish, to make a dream come true.

 

But sometimes, I would dare say oft-times, it’s to ward off danger of some sort and to garner luck.  If we throw salt we won’t get hurt.  If we hold our breath, a loved one won’t die.  If we have a plastic Jesus on our dashboard, we won’t get into a wreck.

 

If we believe strongly enough in God or the right things about God, bad things won’t happen to us…

 

Whoa, you say, that last one isn’t one of them.  Isn’t it?

 

I think for a lot of people in the world faith and spirituality have turned into some sort of talisman, some type of good-luck charm that wards off bad things happening in life.  If we believe the right things, if we try to be good, if we try to follow Jesus, bad things won’t happen to us.

 

Unfortunately, that kind of mentality works about as well as keeping a plastic Jesus on your dashboard; you’re just as likely to get wrecked.

 

As this is Rachel’s Day and we lift up abuses in our world, I’d bet we could ask any number of abused children if they have faith.  I’m sure they do.  And they’re still abused…sometimes by people who profess to have faith as well.

 

I was 10 when I found this out.  I had a good friend in my class at school, and had a bit of a crush on her.  We went to a dance together at her grandparent’s Eagle’s Lodge; my first dance.  I bought her two roses: one silk and one real.  I figured with the silk one she’d remember me forever by, and the real one would smell nice.  A win-win.

 

I remember when we were at her house getting ready for the dance, she said to me, “Let’s go in the closet, I have something to tell you.” She closed the door slightly, and then she looked at me with wide, scared eyes and said, “My grandfather touches me…in places I don’t like.”

 

I was 10.  She was 10.  And I remember my 10 year old brain going, “what to do…what to do…”

 

She began to tear up.  I hugged her.  She said, “Don’t tell anybody.  He said not to.”

 

We emerged from the closet…but I was no longer 10.

 

She went to church.  She prayed fervently.  We all did.  And her faith didn’t keep these bad things from happening to her.  There was no talisman that could protect her from him; there was no magic spell.  There wasn’t even a prayer that could protect her.

 

Trust me; we tried them all.

 

What to do…what to do…I was 10.  I didn’t tell anyone.  I wish I had.

 

But she did tell someone; our teacher at school.  And he did something.  The body of Christ acted to get her out of that house, prosecute that man, save her from danger.  And through the eyes of faith she began the healing process, the process of trying to heal from what had happened.

 

And while her faith wasn’t a protective shield, it was certainly a balm, an aid, a help in her journey toward wholeness.  Because, you see, we have a habit of thinking that the things that happen to us define us.

 

We have a habit of thinking that we will be defined by our tragedies, that our story has ended in the face of small defeats.

 

And in those moments we begin to graft ourselves on to things: like drugs.  Like alcohol.  Like cutting ourselves.  Like doubting we’re worth anything.

 

And we begin to not bear any fruit in our spiritual or physical lives: we can’t get up in the morning.  We can’t pray.  Our children can’t go to school without crying.  We can’t walk out the door with a drink or a fix.  We can’t see ourselves ever being worth something because we’ve listened  for too long to the voices that say we are damaged, that we’ll never marry again, that we’ll never have kids again, that we’re not manly enough, that we’re not pretty enough, that we’ll never be anything because we can’t keep a job, that we can’t kick the habit.  We can’t…

We can’t.

 

We can’t live grafted on to dead things; and those voices, those experiences are dead things…and as our ancient mothers and fathers knew, without God dead things only cause death.

 

But today we hear Jesus say, “I am the true vine, you are the branches. Abide in me and live. Bear fruit. Live.”

 

Grafted onto Christ, we learn that faith is not what protects us from having bad experiences.  Faith is what protects us from believing those things in this world that try to say those experiences define us.  Faith is what protects us from seeing death all around us.

 

Abiding in the vine of God’s love doesn’t mean we won’t have tragedy, doesn’t mean we won’t have heartache, divorce, abuse, addiction.  It doesn’t mean that our children are any safer than any other children in the world.

 

What it does mean is that, when heartache, headache, and tragedy strike, we’ll remember who we are and whose we are, we’ll be embraced by this community, a community that isn’t afraid to tell the truth, like my 10 year old self was.  A community that, fed by the word of God, reminds us who we are: broken and redeemed.  Loved and worthy.  A child of God.

 

And you know, sometimes it is the small things, sometimes those reminders are in the small things.  Like a piece of bread and a sip of wine.  Like a splash of water on the forehead from a holy font in the shape of a cross.  Like the handshake or hug from someone who says to us in the moment when we are least at peace, “God’s peace be with you.”

 

Like the teacher who saved a life by saying four words, “He can’t touch you.”  That, even that, is a small thing that God works through.

 

And those small things graft us back onto that vine from that cross-tree that stood on Calvary so long ago, a tree that says definitively, “Nothing can harm you anymore; not even death.  You are mine, and that defines you.”

 

A plastic Jesus won’t help me; that’s for sure (but I’ll still sing that song).  And I don’t think Joseph cares much about my house.

 

But a God who extends a true vine that re-grounds us in love; that grafts us back into the story of wholeness through the small things of sacraments, community, and faith?

 

That helps.  That saves.  Sometimes it’s the small things.

 

Amen.

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Games Children Play

John 10:11-18

¹¹I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. ¹²The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away — and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. ¹³The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. ¹⁴I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, ¹⁵just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep. ¹⁶I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd. ¹⁷For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. ¹⁸No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father.”

Games Children Play

Easter God,

You breathe into our world

our lungs

new life

A life coming from you

To us

A divine gift

For you are the one who cares

For us

As  shepherd

For sheep

And whatever else we might be

Blessed be you for your compassion

And blessed be us for your love

Amen

 

I’m thinking of a game from my childhood today.  A game you’ll know.  Will you play?

 

I bet you’ll all know what to say when I yell, “Marco”

 

Yes.  Exactly.

 

Marco-polo.  That wonderful game of blindfolded “seek and find.”  I’ll be it.  I’ll close my eyes.  Marco!

 

And the key to not being caught, of course, is to vary how loudly you reply, polo.  As the seeker gets closer and closer, the response to a loud marco, with arms outstretched, reaching and feeling, is an increasingly quieter and quieter polo…

 

And then, the quietest polo slips from your lips as we are about to touch.

 

But by then, it’s too late; we’re already too close, and with a quick tap, you’re it.

 

And the game only works if you play together; there must be trust that when I say marco you’ll reply polo…even if it’s a quiet polo…or else I’ll go on searching forever.

 

It’s a child’s game…sort of.

 

We still play it, don’t we?  I’ll still call to see if you respond.  You’ll still call to see if I respond.

 

I’ll call for a favor; will you grant it?

 

You’ll call for some information; will I give it?

 

We call our children from the street; will they heed it?

 

Our parents will call for our help; will we make time to provide it?

 

Our God will call on us to do things in this world; will we answer?

 

We’ll call on God in our time of need…will God answer?

 

Sometimes in these games of life, it’s difficult to tell who is yelling marco and who is yelling polo.  And sometimes when God calls out to us through this table of grace to go and be grace in this world, sometimes when God calls to us in the voice of a stranger, our response is quiet…a whisper.  And sometimes when we call out to God, it seems the response is quiet, a whisper…and sometimes, maybe we feel a response is not even present, and we’re just searching, arms outstretched in the world, playing a game that no one else is playing with us.

 

In these weeks after Easter, we have readings of disciples meeting a resurrected Christ: in upper rooms that first week, in the fingerprints of creation last week, broken over so that creation could spill forth, and here, today, we hear Jesus talk about shepherding us, and knowing us and about us knowing him.

 

How will we know Jesus?

 

By voice.  By call and response.  A game of marco-polo.

 

But what if it feels as if God isn’t playing?   Or if God is, that God is not calling out to us, no marco here to respond to and no polo to echo our calls and prayers.

 

Because deep down, at the heart of things, I think we all want to hear God’s call upon our lives, to have God tell us, “I love you.  You are mine.  No matter what you’ve done, or do, nothing can change that.  You are to be salt for the earth, light for the world.  You are to change things through me.  I call to you…”

 

And because, deep down at the heart of things, I think we all want to hear God respond when we cry out in our moment of terror, our time of trial.  We long for the good shepherd to lead us beside still waters, and we need that voice to reassure us that God is there even in that valley where death’s shadow is so strong it seems as if we can’t even call out for help, we can’t squeak out a marco, let alone an alleluia…

 

“I know my sheep, and my sheep know me…they will listen to my voice,” Jesus says today.

 

And we hear the voice of the sacrificing shepherd all over the place.  Sometimes it’s a small call.  Sometimes robust.  Sometimes clear.  Sometimes faint.

 

But God’s call is there, are we listening for it?  I think we recognize it.

 

We hear it as we call out and respond to the cries of the world.  An urgent marco has been sounded for relief as the body of Christ has malaria, and people have provided generously to the malaria campaign that we’re culminating today.

 

A desperate marco continues to be shouted from hungry mouths as the body of Christ suffers for lack of food, and our youth have responded in support and solidarity, and our Food Pantry Initiative is organizing still in a defiant polo.

 

Marco, Erik and Linda cry out to us today for support and prayers as they attempt to respond to the shouts of people in Tanzania to partner with them.  And I know many in here will respond with a strong polo of prayers and support.

 

This world still cries out marco to God, with eyes shut to the promise of one who has loved the world so much as to give his only son…and God responds in Jesus.

 

Jesus is God’s response to the calls of a desperate world, a place dying to be at peace, at one with God and with each other.  And if Jesus is God’s polo to the world’s marco, then we know that God is indeed calling and listening, is indeed playing…and it’s not a game.

 

It’s life.  And it’s death.

 

And even, at the end of all of our games, as we lay back down one last time, and a quiet polo slips from our lips in that last breath, in a voice so soft we’re sure God hasn’t heard us, as we breathe our last alleluia, a sigh so deep escapes  and we’re certain God can’t find us…not in death.

 

But by that time, we’re already too close, and the outstretched arms of love tap us.  We’re it.

 

In Jesus we trust that God is always with us, always playing this game, always searching, always responding.  It’s what good shepherds do.

 

And in that moment we follow God into one last game, the game that children play, the children of God.  The game around a banquet table, where cups overflow, where goodness and mercy have the final say, where still waters and green pastures invite.   No longer are we passing through the valley of the shadow of death.  Death has met us, and the one with the power to take life back up has brought us back up with him.

 

And there the good shepherd keeps watch, calling out to us, “Marco, beloved! Welcome to the feast of life!” And we answer, in a strong voice, having played this game before with Christ in life, knowing that we’ve been found forever, we ditch the polo and move straight to, “Alleluia!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Breaking

John 12:23-36

 

²³Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. ²⁴Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. ²⁵Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. ²⁶Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.

²⁷“Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. ²⁸Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” ²⁹The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, “An angel has spoken to him.” ³⁰Jesus answered, “This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. ³¹Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. ³²And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” ³³He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die. ³⁴The crowd answered him, “We have heard from the law that the Messiah remains forever. How can you say that the Son of Man must be lifted up? Who is this Son of Man?” ³⁵Jesus said to them, “The light is with you for a little longer. Walk while you have the light, so that the darkness may not overtake you. If you walk in the darkness, you do not know where you are going. ³⁶While you have the light, believe in the light, so that you may become children of light.” After Jesus had said this, he departed and hid from them.

Breaking

God of all creation,

All that you have made is good

And you have made all things

Help us to see the good in all things

In this earth

Our home

In this body

Your temple

In this universe

Where you kingdom dwells

In the name of the one sent to reconcile all things

Jesus the Christ

Amen

 

You all know how it begins.

 

A blank landscape, a light slowly reaching out for the horizon.

 

And then, suddenly, it breaks:

 

Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba!

 

That line literally translates, “Here comes a lion, Father”

 

And this large orange orb slowly rises from the darkness.

 

It’s the opening scene from The Lion King, the definitive Disney movie of my generation.  I was in Jr. High at the time.  Our science teacher would play the soundtrack while we dissected owl pellets.

 

But I can’t watch that beginning and not see, or hear, or think about the creation story of Genesis, where God is “brooding over the face of the deep.”

 

And then suddenly, it breaks:

 

Light!

 

It’s a beautiful thought, and an important one to keep at the forefront of our mind.  One of the differences between the creation story of the Judeo-Christian world and that of other creation stories is that things came into being out of love and desire.  Other creation stories has things coming into being over blood and violence, but in Genesis 1 and 2 it is said that God creates  and then calls the creation tok, which is often translated as “good,” but could also mean “beautiful.”

 

God creates; it is beautiful.

 

And, truly, what is more breathtaking than light breaking over the horizon?  This image of there being emptiness, nothingness, and then-

 

Light!

 

But how often do we see that anymore?  How often do we glance at things and sigh, with God, “it’s beautiful”?

 

In the Jewish tradition, there are blessings for everything.  Blessings for waking, for sleeping, for eating, and for seeing.  Yes, there are blessings for seeing, as in, when you come upon something, you bless it.

 

And one of the most wonderful blessings I’ve heard of is the one that you are to say when you come upon something breathtaking:

 

Oh God, Sovereign of the Universe.  Blessed are you for having such as this in your creation.

We’ve lost that practice, though.  That practice of blessing.

 

And I think we’ve lost that practice because, well, we’re not very good at seeing the world, the creation, for what it is: our house, and therefore, the house of God.

 

The word “ecology” is derived from the Greek word oikos which means “house.”  Ecology, therefore, is the study of the house.  And there was a whole strain of Christianity that was focused on the study of the house, it was called natural theology.

 

Natural theology is the study of God’s fingerprint being in all natural things.  We see this theology in the ancient poetry of Christian mystics like Hildegard of Bingen, in the wisdom literature of scripture in the Psalms and in the Book of Wisdom found in the Catholic canon of the Bible.

 

Natural theology is found in the book of Ephesians and Colossians where the author talks about the “cosmic nature of Christ” and in the Gnostic book of Thomas where Jesus is recorded as saying, “I am the light which is over all, I am the universe, the universe has come from me, and the universe returns to me again.  Cleave a piece of wood, I am there; lift up a stone and you will find me.”

 

And this same thought is echoed in the Gospel of John when, “In the beginning was the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  And through him all things came into being.”  This notion, that all things came into being through God’s purposeful work in Jesus, we affirm in the creed, “God from God, light from light, true God from true God.  Begotten, not made. Under one being with the Father, through him all things were made…”

 

But, as with all things, talk of this sort fell out popularity.  As the theologian and professor Jurgen Moltmann rightly notes, “the theology of modern times reduced the relevance of Christ to the salvation of human beings and the salvation of human souls, and by doing so it delivered (natural theology) outside the bounds of salvation.”

 

We are now in a new time, though, where we are starting to look at the world more and more as our ancient mothers and fathers did.  We are starting to ask good questions about what it means to be keepers of the oikos and I think, for the Christian, a question that must come to mind is: why?  Why should a Christian care about the world?  Yes, God set humanity in the garden and said, “steward this,” but we’re given free will to steward as we will.  So why should we bother?

 

Here, again, I think this theologian Moltmann can help us.  Because, you see, the ancient view of the cosmic Christ, a view that is on your bulletin covers, a view that Christianity is starting to pay attention to again calls us to consider what God’s saving work through Jesus was for.

 

Moltmann says, “But if Jesus is the Christ of God, we must also think of him as the all-reconciling reality, as Paul did (in 1 Corinthians 8:6)…faith in Christ discovers the reconciliation of all things in heaven and on earth, and accepts everything created as beings for which Christ died, and which he leads toward resurrection.  The war of human beings against nature must be replaced by the reconciliation of human beings with nature, and of nature with human beings.”

 

That’s all a long way of saying that, if God’s self-giving love is shown through Jesus, that self-giving love was for all creation.  “Each little flower that opens, each little bird that sings,” as the hymn goes.

 

But we must make a distinction.  Paying attention to God’s finger prints in nature will not save us; such awareness is not salvatory.  Only God’s work through Jesus does that.  It does, though, make us wise.  It does, though, teach us.  It does, though, provide for divine instruction which can help us to hold creation and nature as more sacred.

 

There were a lot of passages that could have been chosen to preach on this day.  Indeed, God’s work through creation is all throughout the Old and New Testaments.  So why this verse?  Especially because I just preached on this verse weeks ago?

 

I think it’s instructive for us to see how Jesus teaches using creation.  The mysteries of life we see in things, even as small as a seed pod, are instructive for the spiritual and physical life of the Christian.  “Consider the lilies,” Jesus says.  “Consider the birds of the air,” the savior entreats.

 

And here: consider the seed pod.  The seed pod that breaks open who it is so that others can have, and eat, and grow.  As the husk breaks open, new life is seen.

 

Just as the sun breaks over the horizon, life can be seen.

 

Just as the Son of Man, broken on the cross, helps us to see that God’s arms are stretched out for all in an all-encompassing gift of love and life.

 

Consider the seed pod.

 

Consider the sun.

 

Consider the Christ broken open on the cross.

 

And then consider yourselves.

 

How can the seed pod teach us to take care of the oikos, the house that God has given us?  We talk about Jesus as having self-giving love, and we talk about how we have self-giving love for one another so that our neighbor can live.

 

But do we have self-giving love for the birds of the air and the lilies of the field?  Do we consider them?  Or has industrialization and the fall out of a post-industrial nation caused us, instead, to simply dominate and exploit?

For the Christian, this is a real question.

 

If God showed a self-giving love in Jesus Christ, what might it mean for us to have self-giving love for creation, and for future generations that will live in this oikos?

 

One final thought.

 

There are many out there who talk about the “new heaven and new earth” that is mentioned in Scripture.  Indeed, our reading the Revelation talks about it, with this beautiful river of life streaming through the center.

 

But the new heaven and new earth is never mentioned as a brand-new creation.  Rather, we see there a reconciled creation.  Indeed, the prophet Isaiah speaks of it, and the author of 2 Peter speaks of it, but the notion is not that everything is re-made, so we have license to use everything in this world up.

 

Rather, as 2 Peter notes, the distinguishing mark of the “new heaven and new earth” is that righteousness dwells (3:13).

 

And remember, “righteousness” is “right relationship.”  In the new heaven and earth, God, people, and yes, creation live in right relationship, a reconciled relationship.

 

And if Jesus is the example of righteousness that God desires, then right relationship includes giving of the self for the sake of the other.  And, yes, even the other plants, the atmosphere, all the nooks and crannies of this oikos, this house.

 

The Lion King is a great movie; I still like watching it.  And I love watching that sun break open over the landscape.

 

What if.  What if people could watch the Christian community, our work here, and walk away saying, “I love how they break open their lives for the love of the landscape, in praise to the Christ who has reconciled them and reconciles all things; in praise to God, our Father.”

 

What if?

 

 

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Out of Place

Mark 16:1-8

 

When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. ²And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. ³They had been saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” ⁴When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. ⁵As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. ⁶But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. ⁷But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.” ⁸So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

Out of Place

Powerful God,

Today you emptied a tomb

And flooded our lives once again

With hope

With grace

With the sweet smells of newness

As we are seized by amazement at your love

Hold us

Help us to see

We, too, are raised with Jesus

In our days spent with you

In the name of the risen one

Amen.

 

Have you ever walked into a place and had this weird feeling come over you that something was not as it should be?  Something was different?

 

Or did you ever fear that something was not as it should be, that you were missing something? It can be frightening sometimes, right?

 

There was the time when, at 2am, my wife and I were sound asleep when we heard a crash.  Breaking glass.  I sat straight up in bed, and my wife joined me.  I crept over to the bedroom door being very quiet, trying not to make a sound.  But then I thought better of that strategy.

 

Perhaps if I scare the would-be burglars, they’ll leave.

So, I speak in a very loud voice to my wife, “Honey, call the police!”

 

To which she says in a very loud voice, “The phone is in the livingroom!”

 

Sigh.  Any prospective burglars wouldn’t be scared now…

 

Turns out, a nail had given lose and our kitchen clock had shattered.  A good thing, though.  I thought perhaps that something was amiss, awry, that I was walking into a kitchen where my demise was waiting for me.

 

And there are other times when you feel like something is amiss, and it’s not frightening, it’s just kind of weird.  It’s odd.

 

There’s a Youtube video going viral now that features a man named John Daker.  Anyone seen it? John Daker is a member of firstunitedmethodistchurch.  And you have to say it like that, like it’s all one word.  Because that’s how his accompanist, Reva Cooper Lipsticker, introduces him.

 

The video is old, obviously from public access television, one of those variety type shows, and John Draker gets on and he begins to sing, “Jesus Christ is risen today, alleluia…”

 

And he misses notes, and misses entrances and cues, and then he does the unthinkable.  He transitions seamlessly from “Jesus Christ is risen today…” to “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore…”

 

I mean, it’s terrible!  The whole thing is amiss, a mistake!

 

I mean, if you’ve ever come across something and thought, “Uhoh, something is amiss” or “something might be amiss” you can empathize with these women in this Easter gospel.  For them it’s both frightening and weird.  Seeing that this huge stone was rolled away, these brave women went inside…I probably would have run away, fearing that I would be entering into the tomb where my demise was waiting.

 

But they go in, and there they see this young man, in the ancient Greek he’s known as the neoniskos or “new guy,” and he’s sitting there.

 

And what does he tell them?  “Jesus is risen!”

 

You know, I always think it’s funny when people tell me that women can’t be pastors or priests.  If you read the gospels, who are the first people to be entrusted with the story of Jesus’ resurrection?  Women.

 

And it’s no different in Mark’s version.  Here the women see something is amiss, they bravely step forward into the tomb, they’re told the gospel story, and they exit.

 

Now, do me a favor.  Everyone, scrunch up your pointer finger just like this, make a little hole, and look through it.  Anyone ever do this before?

 

My freshman year of college I realized I couldn’t see very well.  But not having an optometrist at school, I never did anything about it.  Instead, to read far away signs or to read with weary eyes, I’d just scrunch my finger like this.  It actually works, you know.  It helps you see better.

But put the hand up to your eye again, and look through it.

 

It’s almost as if you’re inside a tomb, staring out of it.  Blinking, walking out from the darkness into the light.

 

Hold that image in your head for a second, that walking from inside a tomb, a dark cave, to the outside.  You blink, as your eyes get adjusted.  The colors are vibrant, more vibrant than they were before.

 

It’s weird and frightening.

 

And, you’re speechless, it’s so beautiful.

 

If you can imagine that, then you can imagine what these women in Mark’s gospel were experiencing.  They came to bury their teacher and friend, only to learn that he’s not there, that he’s alive.

 

And as they exit that tomb, they’re so taken by fear and amazement that they’re speechless.  They’ve been entrusted with this great news, but their terrified, speechless because, well, everything is different.

 

You see, they thought they were walking into their demise, into the demise of the whole Jesus movement, this movement where God’s love was proclaimed to those who felt out of place in the world: the lepers, the outcast, the tax collector, the gentile; a movement where God’s love was proclaimed to those who felt as if they ran the world, and invited them to get onboard with God’s agenda: the priests, the powerbrokers, the leaders.

 

They were walking to bury their hopes, their dreams, their ideals.

 

How many of us have been there?

 

But now, now everything is amiss.  Their agenda is abandoned, just as that tomb is abandoned.  Now, now everything is new.  When things are amiss, when things are out of place, it’s not always bad, mind you…

 

And blinking, speechless, they walk into a new way of being in the world, with new eyes, with empty tomb eyes, empty tomb eyes that can now see that their hopes and dreams and ideals, though once dead, are as alive as the Jesus they came to bury.

 

And, funny thing is, although they were speechless, although this story filled them with fright and delight…we’ve still heard it.  We know it.  It was too big to keep to themselves for too long, we’ve heard it, and today you hear it again.

 

You hear it again, and the question I pose to you is: will you tell it?  Will you tell of how God is raising you?  Providing resurrection in your life?  Will you tell about the amazing love shown through God’s work in Jesus the Christ, a love that won’t let death have the final say?

 

Or will you be silent?

 

Because, you see, there’s a difference between being silent and being at a loss for words.  Silence is a choice.  Speechless…that’s usually what happens when you have an encounter with the impossible, with the amazing, with God.

 

And perhaps that’s the reason most are silent: they’re not sure what to say.  How do we explain why God would behave in this way, raising up Jesus to show that God would go to any height, depth, or length to make sure that we’re free from fear, free to live with God.

 

But it is kind of frightening.  Because, if Jesus Christ is risen, that means that with God, all things are possible.

 

But that’s weird.

 

It’s weird to say that out loud…if you haven’t experienced it yourself.

 

Because, why would God act in this way, shattering the bonds of death, breaking open the tombs of my life, those places where I’m spiritually and physically dead?

 

Why does God take oh take you as you are, not letting anything get in the way of the relationship?

 

That’s where John Daker comes in handy.  Jesus Christ is risen today!  And why?

 

It’s amore.  It’s love.  It’s all out of love.

 

And in the face of such wonderful, earth shattering, tomb emptying love, sometimes all we can be is speechless and walk blinkingly home.

 

But we can’t be speechless for long.  Such love can’t be contained.

 

No, the only way you can remain silent for long after an encounter with such love.

 

Yeah, it may seem amiss to talk this way.  After all, we don’t want to seem like some of those Bible-thumping Jesus freaks, right?  That’s weird. I mean, people in my demographic…and a lot of you are in my age demographic…are choosing not to join churches, not to explore their spirituality together, not to do a lot of things.

 

They’re choosing to be silent.

 

But looking at the world through tomb eyes, where we’ve experienced resurrection in some way, where God has come to meet us, raise us up, given us new life.

 

I don’t know.  I just can’t be silent about it.

 

And that fact might seem out of place for my age and demographic…and for yours, too.  But, I don’t know, amiss isn’t always bad.

 

At least not in the face of such wonderful love.

 

That’s amore.

 

Amen.

 

 

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