Message Archive

Wisdom of Solomon 1:13-15; 2:23-24 Lamentations 3:21-33 2 Corinthians 8:7-15 Mark 5:21-43

Jesus said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease.”

Probably the most outstanding highlight of last year’s trip to Israel occurred during our visit to Magdala, the town of Mary Magdalene.  In Magdala is the Church of Duc In Altum, an incredibly stunning edifice on the shores of the sea near Tiberius.  The Latin name Duc In Altum is taken from the phrase “launch into the deep” from St. Luke’s account of Jesus instructing his disciples to put out into the deep water and cast their nets.  The wings of the enormous domed entry of the Duc In Altum open into smaller chapels; in one of the smaller chapels, there is an enormous and awesome life-size mosaic that depicts the raising of Jairus’ daughter, the account of which we read in this morning’s Gospel lesson.  

Because we were the only daughter-parent team in our group, we were asked by the priest there to come forward and “participate” in the mosaic.  Roland and I stood touching our daughter as she placed her hand into Jesus’ hand alongside the hand of Jairus’ daughter as Jesus took that hand and raised her.  Standing there, we felt first the frantic fear of Jairus and his wife as they helplessly stood at their dying daughter’s bedside.  But that fear subsided; a sense of calm came upon us as we felt the powerful impact of God’s healing grace assuaging the fears and despair of Jairus and his wife, restoring their daughter to earthly life.  The experience still is indescribable.  

Today, we read Mark’s account of the raising from the dead of Jairus’ twelve-year-old daughter as the account bookends the account of the healing of the woman who had suffered from hemorrhages for twelve years.  These are two unlikely candidates for models of faithfulness: First, Jairus, an official among the Jewish leadership – a member of the group known for being the most skeptical, perhaps even the most threatened, by Jesus’ actions and nuanced interpretation of Jewish traditions; and, second, a powerless middle-aged woman outside the inner circle of tradition, beyond the usefulness of child-bearing years, most unclean due to her uncontrollable issue of blood. 

Yet, both characters exhibit immense faith, Jairus very publicly pleading for Jesus’ help and this pagan woman who sought only to touch the hem of Jesus’ clothes in faith that she would be healed.  Despite the crush of the crowd, the faith of this unnamed woman overcame her physical weakness and the jeers of those who witnessed her feat; her desperation and faith driving her forward toward the tiniest fragment of anything that connected her touch to Jesus.  Surely, without Jesus’ power of healing, she would die.

Of death, Solomon, known for his wisdom, writes in our lesson from the Apocrypha: 

God did not make death,
And he does not delight in the death of the living….

…through the devil’s envy death entered the world.
Death entered the world, but our all-powerful and merciful God was not to be deterred; through God’s grace, Jesus Christ entered the world.  Jesus walks in the midst of the devil’s envy; Jesus walks in the midst of our earthly suffering and death.

To have been touched by a woman hemorrhaging blood, society would have rendered Jesus immeasurably unclean and unacceptable for worship and physical contact with others.  To continue his journey to the house of Jairus, knowing he would be encountering, even touching, one who (in the eyes of the public) was dead, would further his state of uncleanness.  Yet, Jesus does not hesitate to take upon himself the uncleanness – our uncleanness – our uncleanness that the Devil exploits relentlessly to bring about our hopelessness and despair – the death of our faith.

As he did in response to the touch on the hem of his clothing, as he did in response to Jairus’ faith, Jesus gave of his healing power to restore life; Jesus has overcome death and restores us to life.

There are times when we, too, are crushed by the crowd, feeling trampled in our efforts to reach – to touch the mere hem of Jesus’ clothes; there are times we are frantic with fear, but Jesus is forever reaching toward us, taking us by the hand, commanding us to rise, restoring us to life, healing us by his touch.  

God does not delight in the death of the living.  God desires our healing and our restoration.  Healing might not be as swift as was that of the two females in our lesson; it might not be tangible physical healing as we define it; but our spiritual healing is guaranteed if only we place our hand in the hand of Jesus Christ our Lord, feel the impactful power of God’s healing grace assuaging our fears and despair.  Grasping on a tiny fragment of the presence of Jesus Christ, we hear the words of our Lord, “Your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed.”

1 Samuel 17: (1a, 4-11, 19-23), 32-49 Psalm 9:9-20 2 Corinthians 6:1-13 Mark 4:35-41

Chapter 8 – Saul is made king by the people before God

Chapter 15 – Saul has been rejected as king. 

Chapter 16 – David is anointed king by Samuel; v. 14: “The spirit of the Lord departed from Saul;” David enters the service of Saul, playing the lyre to calm him, becomes armor bearer/warrior; Saul loved him greatly.

Chapter 17 – David slays Goliath.

Chapter 18 – Saul becomes jealous of David’s relationship with son Jonathan.

Chapter 19 – Saul seeks David’s life.

Chapter 20-30 – David flees to escape Saul’s wrath; Saga of David; Psalms; downfall of Saul. David has opportunities to slay Saul but spares his life.

Chapter 31 – Saul dies a noble death in battle

2nd Samuel begins with David’s lamentations over Saul, continues with David’s anointing as king of Judah and Israel.

So much of the Old Testament is expression of this tension between earthly human power and power in the name of the Lord of hosts, as cited by David as he confronts Goliath.  Throughout the history of these early centuries of the people of God, there is continuous back and forth between humans seeking to take control of their own destiny and the righteous humble who seek to place their destiny in the hand of God.  Of course, this back and forth is an ongoing pitfall for God’s people, and we note that it is a prevailing theme throughout the Old Testament, which is well-marked by human fingerprints – this ongoing pitfall of our incessant need to take control of our own destiny, dismissing or ignoring the need to trust God with our destiny.

In the saga of Saul and David, it appears that Saul, unlike David, is rather a self-made man; the words in Chapter 8 are: “Saul was made king by the people before God.”  Recalling our previous lesson, the people of Israel were clamoring for a king to rule over them; Samuel negotiated with God who relented and allowed for an earthly king.  Was that a hasty and ill-fraught earthly act?  We have begun to see that Saul’s kingship was an excruciating failure leading to his mental breakdown; his kingship will end finally when he is slain in battle.

David, on the other hand, seeks to place his destiny and the destiny of his people in the hand of God.  In our lesson for today from Chapter 17, Saul remains in the position of king even after David has been anointed at God’s behest by Samuel as we read in last week’s lesson.  By now, though, Saul’s mental health has declined; we are told the “spirit of the Lord has departed from Saul.”  As Chapter 16 comes to a close, we learn that David is called upon to play his lyre in hopes of calming Saul’s anxiety with his comforting music.  Saul grows to love David and appoints him to be his armor-bearer. 

When Goliath the Philistine became a threat to Israel, it was David who stepped up to the challenge without hesitation.  As Goliath drew near, David threw off the earthly armor and the sword of Saul, proclaiming “that all the earth may know that there is a God in Israel, and that all this assembly may know that the Lord does not save by sword and spear; for the battle is the Lord’s and he will give you into our hand.”  Surrendering his destiny into the hand of God, David went calmly and fearlessly into battle.

And, indeed, as we well remember the story, David slew Goliath with one stone launched from his slingshot.

The disciples in our Gospel lesson are facing their own Goliath.  Unlike David, however, they allow their fears to overwhelm them to the point that they are losing the battle against the storm; they are perishing much like Saul was perishing once the spirit of the Lord had left him; much like Goliath, dependent upon his own earthly strength, perished.  The disciples were outside in the storm; they were fraught with fear; they were perishing.

Jesus was inside, resting peacefully.  Finally, in deepest anguish, calling upon Jesus, the disciples’ fears were assuaged; Jesus calmly came out into the storm and ordered it to cease.  “Peace!  Be still!” were his words to the raging sea.  “Then the wind ceased and there was dead calm.”

Laden with cumbersome earthly armor, separating ourselves from the spirit of the Lord, singularly facing life’s raging storms, our little boats become swamped.  Finally, in fear of perishing, we cry out to Jesus, and Jesus comes into our storm with peace and calm.  Truly, our outward storms might continue to rage, but our hearts find peace and rest with great awe in the clear presence of the power of God through Jesus Christ.  Our battles become the Lord’s battles as was that of David and Goliath.

Again, and again, Jesus asks us, “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?”  What are your greatest fears – your Goliaths?  Where do the storms rage in your life?  

Much of the remaining chapters of 1st Samuel are devoted to David’s distress and near-death experiences as he is on the run, hiding from the jealous and mentally deranged King Saul.  Undoubtedly, it was during these frightful times that many of the Psalms attributed to David were written.  Keeping in mind the dangerous situations that David faced, the words of his Psalms take on greater depth; to these times, we can relate our own desperate efforts to cry out to God amid life’s storms.   In faith, we affirm with David:

Those who know your Name will put their trust in you, *
for you never forsake those who seek you, O Lord.       [Psalm 9:10]

1 Samuel 15:34-16:13 Psalm 20 2 Corinthians 5:6-10,[11-13],14-17 Mark 4:26-34

There is a children’s poem said to be based on the account of the death in battle of King Richard III of England.  Richard was the last king of the House of York.  He reigned only two years from 1483 until his death in 1485 in the Battle of Bosworth Field where he was slain by the forces of Henry Tudor, later to become Henry VII.  Perhaps you have heard the poem:

For want of a nail the shoe was lost.
For want of a shoe the horse was lost.
For want of a horse the rider was lost.
For want of a rider the battle was lost.
For want of a battle the kingdom was lost.
And all for the want of a horseshoe nail.

Here is the story of The Horseshoe Nails:

The Horseshoe Nails

A blacksmith was shoeing a horse.

“Shoe him quickly, for the king wishes to ride him to battle,” said the groom who had brought him.

“Do you think there will be a battle?” asked the blacksmith.

“Most certainly, and very soon, too,” answered the man.  “The king’s enemies are even now advancing, and all are ready for the fight.  Today will decide whether Richard or Henry shall be king of England.”

The smith went on with his work.  From a bar of iron he made four horseshoes. These he hammered and shaped and fitted to the horse’s feet.  Then he began to nail them on.

But after he had nailed on two shoes, he found that he had not nails enough for the other two. 

“I have only six nails,” he said, “and it will take a little time to hammer out ten more.”

“Oh, well,” said the groom, “won’t six nails do?  Put three in each shoe.  I hear the trumpets now.  King Richard will be impatient.”

“Three nails in each shoe will hold them on,” said the smith.  “Yes, I think we may risk it.”

So he quickly finished the shoeing, and the groom hurried to lead the horse to the king.

The battle had been raging for some time.  King Richard rode hither and thither, cheering his men and fighting his foes.  His enemy, Henry, who wished to be king, was pressing him hard.

Far away, at the other side of the field, King Richard saw his men falling back.  Without his help they would soon be beaten.  So he spurred his horse to ride to their aid.

He was hardly halfway across the stony field when one of the horse’s shoes flew off.  The horse was lamed on a rock.  Then another shoe came off.  The horse stumbled, and his rider was thrown heavily to the ground.

Before the king could rise, his frightened horse, although lame, had galloped away.  The king looked, and saw that his soldiers were beaten, and that the battle was everywhere going against him.

He waved his sword in the air.  He shouted, “A horse!  A horse!  My kingdom for a horse.” 

But there was no horse for him.  His soldiers were intent on saving themselves.  They could not give him any help.

The battle was lost.  King Richard was lost. 

Henry became king of England.[1]

Richard the Third was known as one of England’s worst kings.  Henry, the Duke of Richmond, made war upon him; our poem affirms that Henry defeated him in this great battle – all for the “want of a horseshoe nail,” changing the course of England’s history.

In the kingship of Richard III, a tiny horseshoe nail carried great significance.

In our lesson this morning from the Gospel of Mark, Jesus shares parables as metaphors describing great things accomplished from tiny beginnings.  Jesus is sharing parables of the Kingdom of God.  A better understanding of the Kingdom of God by Jesus’ disciples was of great urgency for Jesus.  The coming of the Kingdom of God is a dominant theme throughout his preaching; this section of Mark’s Gospel is devoted to parables of the Kingdom.

Perhaps an easier way of understanding and, actually, a more accurate translation of the Greek term basileia, used in these instances, is “kingship” rather than “kingdom.”  Kingdom has geographical and political connotations; “kingship,” scholars advise, more accurately describes the “kingly rule of God.”[2]  So, as we move through our study of the parables of the kingdom, I invite you to think more in terms of the kingship of God.  The kingship of God is both present and, yet, being made full in the future.

In the kingship of God, our consistent yet seemingly tiny efforts bring about great things – great things come from tiny beginnings.  The great King David, whose star remains the icon of Israel, is described in our Old Testament lesson from 1Samuel as the youngest of the seven sons of Jesse.   David was the least of the handsome and robust sons; he was the keeper of the sheep, his father not even taking the time to call him from the pasture to be among the sons paraded before Samuel.  One by one the sons of Jesse passed before Samuel; Samuel awaited God’s commanding choice of the king who would replace Saul as the king of Israel.  One by one the older brothers were declined; only when David appeared did Samuel hear the voice of the Lord, “Rise and anoint him, for this is the one.”

The seeds we plant in the kingship of God often seem tiny and insignificant; perhaps we are not even aware of the tiny seeds we sow.  But, in God’s kingship, God gives the increase; our seeds grow into great sources of comfort for those who suffer.  Our seeds, given God’s increase, bring about the kingdom of God now even as the kingdom is being brought to fullness in the unforeseen future.

For the want of a horseshoe nail, the kingdom was lost.  Without our tiny mustard seed-size efforts, who among us might never have sight of the kingdom of God?

1 Samuel 8:4-11, (12-15), 16-20, (11:14-15) Psalm 138 2 Corinthians 4:13-5:1 Mark 3:20-35

So we do not lose heart.

Even though our outer nature is wasting away,

our inner nature is being renewed day by day. 

2 Corinthians 4:16

With the passing of the principal feasts [Easter; Ascension Day, the day on which the Resurrected Jesus ascends from our earthly view after spending 40 days reappearing to his followers; the Day of Pentecost, celebrating the coming of the Holy Spirit to rest upon all who would follow Jesus Christ, guiding us in the fulfillment of our commission to spread the Gospel message; and Trinity Sunday, which we celebrated last week, our feast affirming our belief in the three in one – God the Father; God the Son; and God the Holy Spirit] we now settle into what the Church refers to as ordinary time.  What a pleasant thought after these preceding 15 months – ordinary time.

This sense of order is one of the important aspects that draws many of us to the Episcopal Church; we don’t do things randomly and haphazardly.  And, I always like to point out this particular Sunday that begins our Ordinary Time in order to emphasize our need to settle into systematic and intentional Bible study as an intricate part, in fact a highlight, of our weekly worship.  In the coming weeks and months, we will walk rather chronologically through our Old Testament lessons, Paul’s epistles to the early churches, and Jesus’ earthly ministry as recorded in the divinely inspired words of St. Mark.

We emphasize that the Bible, from beginning to end, is the account of God’s creation and redemption of his people.  The Bible is not the compilation of random unrelated stories.  The Bible is not to be seen as a separate Old Testament and New Testament.  The Old Testament, or the Hebrew Bible, contains the history, poetic revelations, and prophecy of God’s people culminating in the New Testament – the redemption of all God’s creation through the incarnation, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ – from beginning to end, all one account of our creation and redemption as children of God.

And, so, we begin our ongoing study with our lesson today from 1 Samuel.  Much history has transpired for the people of Israel.  Time and again, they had entered into covenant with God; time and again, they had fallen away and broken the covenant.  By the time of Samuel who was the last of the judges, the twelve tribes had moved into a more settled lifestyle progressing from the nomadic lifestyle under the patriarchs and their sojourn in the wilderness to their arrival and possession of the Promised Land of Israel.

Their desire now was to have an earthly king to rule over them – an earthly king like those of neighboring nations.  God was displeased by their request; we read God’s words to Samuel, “they have rejected me from being king over them.  Just as they have done to me, from the day I brought them up out of Egypt to this day, forsaking me and serving other gods.”

Despite the impassioned warnings, the Israelites were determined; they made Saul their king in Gilgal.  This would be a temporary boost to their outer nature, but in so doing they were thwarting their inner renewal; they were acting for themselves, discounting their need for God’s guidance.  The Israelites would have an earthly king to rule their lands and their hearts.  Why, then, would they need God?  God’s chosen people would now be like other nations.  Just how is it that God would bring about their inner renewal?  The quest continues.

Centuries later, in our Gospel lesson from Mark, Jesus is speaking of this same state of mind that had possessed the Israelites of Samuel’s times.  It is a state of mind that desires the replacing of that that is of the Holy Spirit with that that is earthly and separate from God.  In blunt terms, it is seeing evil as goodness and goodness as evil.  The legalistically obsessed scribes in our account this morning tried to label Jesus’ actions of casting out demons as an action of evil while reason assures us that evil cannot, in fact would not, desire to cast out evil.

In our account of the Israelites, it is not so much that an earthly king for their people was an evil thing, but that this earthly king represented their rejection of God as their true and only king.  In a similar way, the scribes in this confrontation with Jesus cannot distinguish goodness from evil.  Their willingness to understand is clouded by their earthly agenda to uphold their power over the religious traditions as they determine the traditions need to be upheld.

This state of mind is a closed wasteland to the action of God’s spirit – a state of mind in which we sacrifice good for evil – when our earthly desires circumvent the renewing action of the Holy Spirit.  This closed mindedness, Jesus says in our lesson from Mark, is the unpardonable and eternal sin.  When we, as humans, choose to partake in this ongoing sin – when we, by choice, habitually reject God in favor of earthly desires and obsessions, this ongoing sin becomes the wasting of our heritage as God’s people, an unpardonable and eternal rejection of God – And, God respects our will to reject him.

The struggle between the evil and the good is the dilemma that, at worst, is the basis of our rejection of God and, at best, causes our continuous wholehearted search for guidance and renewal.  It is a struggle between idle meaninglessness and escalating joy.  Even our closest relationships with family members require this priority toward God’s guidance and renewal.

In the years following the Resurrection and the Ascension and the first Christian Pentecost, the faithful people of the church in Corinth were coming to a better understanding of their need for God.  The Apostle Paul encourages them to hold to the faith and embrace the renewal that was promised them and is promised to us by our Lord Jesus Christ.

The ordinariness of our lives requires the acceptance of the passing away of the old – the smooth wrinkleless skin, painless joints and clear minds, our treasured possessions, the earthly power and prestige revered by the youthful.  These are the stuff of our earthly existence.  But as we wholeheartedly search for God’s guidance, we no longer fall into the snare of our instinct to determine our own good.  We trust our renewal to God through whom our inner nature is being made ready for the eternal weight of glory day by day.

So, do not lose heart; an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure is prepared for us.  The Apostle Paul assures us, our earthly tent will be destroyed; but, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.  The Lord will make good his purpose for you.

Acts 1:15-17, 21-26 1 John 5:9-13 John 17:6-19 Psalm 1

Today’s lesson from Acts fast-forwards to the actions of the apostles in the aftermath of Jesus’ ascension into heaven.  We celebrated the Ascension – the fortieth day of Easter – this past Thursday.  The resurrected Jesus appeared to the disciples at various times and places during these forty days after the resurrection up until the time he ascended into heaven.  It was during these days that Jesus made the promise to send “an advocate,” which we know to be the Holy Spirit.  The words that we read in the beginning of the first chapter of Acts, prior to today’s lesson, are the words that Jesus spoke to his disciples as he was ascending into heaven, “you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

Fast-forwarding to today’s lesson, we read the interesting account of the choosing of Matthias – an account that seems to describe a primitive equivalent of a modern-day lottery.  For these 120 followers who are gathered listening to Peter’s words, casting lots was an ancient tradition for the purpose of discerning God’s guidance.  And, twelve is a sacred number that represents wholeness and perfection.  It was urgent and necessary that the one who was lost, Judas Iscariot, be replaced so that wholeness and perfection could be reestablished.  And, so the followers pray for God’s guidance as the lots are cast to choose between the two proposed candidates.  Interestingly, Joseph called Barsabbas was not chosen, yet we know just as much about him as we know about Matthias.  Neither is mentioned again in the Bible; our only additional knowledge of Matthias is from extra-biblical history.

We can assume that Matthias was an ordinary man.  We can all reflect on many ordinary people who have come into our lives and changed us in dramatic ways.  We might think of Matthias as representing the ordinary among us that is made sacred and holy by God for his mission in this world.

Last week we heard Jesus’ words to his band of frightened and confused disciples on the night before he went to the cross.  Jesus said, “You did not choose me but I chose you.  And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last.” [John 15:16a]

So, too, Matthias was chosen.  This ordinary man, no different from any of us, was chosen to bring completion to the broken portion of the circle of twelve; made sacred for the purpose of carrying the mission of Christ into the world.

From the time of Abraham, the Hebrew people have been considered God’s Chosen People – chosen not as elitists, privileged with a life of leisure and prosperity, but chosen to carry the incredible responsibility of preserving and handing down the word of God to the thousands of generations that were to come.  The Hebrew people have upheld that responsibility even in the face of grave danger and brutal earthly destruction.  And, with the coming of Jesus Christ to earth, we acknowledge the adoption of all who believe; we too are chosen and made sacred for the fulfillment of the mission of Jesus Christ in the world.

We are ordinary, yet we are the chosen sacred children of God.  Because we possess this awareness of the Good News of Jesus Christ, we bear this enormous responsibility as chosen messengers – apostles called to share this incredible message.

Since the first century, since that day of Ascension, Christians have lived in this “in between” – the period after the Resurrection and the Ascension AND the return of Christ.  Along with these first followers, we continue to anticipate.  We do not choose Jesus; Jesus chooses us, as God chose Matthias for his very special mission.  The lot has fallen upon us; we are baptized by water and the spirit – sealed as Christ’s own forever, working toward the completion and perfection of the mission of Jesus Christ; the mission left to us as Jesus the Son ascended to be with the Father; the mission continuing until we are all gathered together as one holy and complete Body of our Lord.

The lot has fallen upon us.  The mission of Jesus Christ is our responsibility.  We are called to share the Good News.

Our Gospel lesson for today is Jesus’ prayer to the Father – a prayer on our behalf, a high priestly prayer.  Carry this prayer with you as you reflect on your place as God’s chosen child.

Acts 10:44-48 1 John 5:1-6 John 15:9-17 Psalm 98

Jesus said, “I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.”

A blessed Mother’s Day to you.  I pray that this day will bring you joy as you recall the joy that mothers, grandmothers, and mother images bring or have brought into your life.  

Some of my earliest memories are of sitting in mother’s lap as she rocked me in her favorite rocking chair that now sits in my own bedroom.  For me, Mother’s Day is an humbling day as I receive kind words and expressions of love from our daughters and my step-children.  How kind they are to remember the good mothering rather than my poor mothering; these expressions of love are a most welcomed unexpected joy.

Our lessons for today speak of unexpected joy.  When we are open to the workings of the Holy Spirit, we are often surprised by joy; when we take time to notice, we become aware of the joy that surrounds us on every side in God’s creation.    

The disciples responding to Jesus’ words in our Gospel lesson must have been perplexed by these unexpected words of joy coming from Jesus.  “I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.”

Our lesson from the Gospel of John is a continuation of the lengthy discourse around the table following that last meal for Jesus and his disciples on that last evening together.  Judas has gone out into the night after a testy exchange in which Jesus has indicated his knowledge of Judas’ intended evil deed.  We’ve all experienced situations where someone in a group meeting storms out, leaving the group tense and uncertain as to how to proceed.  Joy is not the emotion that we would expect.  Yet, Jesus speaks of his joy being implanted in the disciples that their joy may be complete.  The evil deeds that we know were to come on that fateful evening would be manifested by God to be the source of our greatest joy. 

This joy would be made complete in these disciples, now apostles, as we read of their actions.  In the months following Jesus’ ascension, which we will celebrate this Thursday – forty days after the Resurrection, and Pentecost, ten days later, the day on which the Holy Spirit descended upon these followers, they accept the call into their mission as apostles of the Good News.  This unexpected joy of Jesus Christ is made complete in these apostles as they experience the work of the Holy Spirit falling upon even the Gentiles – the uncircumcised, the previous non-believers, those outside the norms of God’s “chosen people.”  We are told that they were astounded at such powerful work as that of the Holy Spirit upon the Gentiles who, by virtue of their belief in Jesus Christ as their Lord, were now “speaking in tongues and extolling God.”

This same unexpected joy is ours when we are open to the power of the Holy Spirit to convert the most seemingly ordinary slice of life into overwhelming spiritual joy.  This same unexpected joy is ours when we, as apostles of the good news, are vehicles for bringing others, especially those that we consider to be outside our comfort zone, into the love of Jesus Christ – that complete joy.

Facing his physical earthly torture and death, Jesus’ focus was joy.  That joy is Jesus’ desire for each of us.  By the power of the Holy Spirit, that joy is complete in each of us.  As we continue to send up our Alleluias in this Easter season of joy, let that joy be complete in you as you bring others into that joy. 

Acts 8:26-40 1 John 4:7-21 John 15:1-8 Psalm 22:24-30

Jesus said, “Abide 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.”  [John 15:4 NRSV].

Jesus assures us he is the true vine, the real and authentic source of the Father who is the vine grower.  If we are to bear fruit, we are to abide in Jesus Christ.

These words from today’s Gospel lesson are some of the last words that Jesus speaks to his disciples before he goes to the cross.  Jesus seeks one last time to console his followers and prepare them for the hardships to come.   He wants to reassure them that their hope will come, not from fleeing the volatile environment surrounding Jesus in Jerusalem on that fateful night, but from drawing even closer to Jesus – abiding in him, trusting in him, moving more profoundly into relationship with him despite the danger.

And, we are to abide in the vine that is Jesus Christ, to draw closer to the vine, particularly when the world is encouraging us to flee in fear.

As the branches of this real and authentic vine, we know that abiding in the vine means pruning is necessary in order for us to bear the best and most bountiful fruit.  As hard as it is every spring to snip off those first signs of new growth, we know that this pruning is necessary in order to have healthy and sturdy growth in the months to come.  A Chrysanthemum branch will grow tall and proud, but without the protection that comes from abiding within its close-knit fellow branches, it will bear only random fragile blooms rather than abundant blooms amidst a sea of blooms; and, standing alone, it will be beaten down by the fall rains or broken by the wind.   Similarly, climbing roses allowed to grow unchecked will put out leggy crisscrossing unproductive spirals with sparse unhealthy blossoms.

Vine growers know well that the branches closest to the vine will produce the most bountiful and desirable fruit.  Pruning is necessary if we are to abide in the vine and bear more abundant fruit.

Thus, Jesus’ metaphor of the vine and the branches clarifies for us how we are to abide in Jesus and Jesus in us.  Eugene Peterson’s Bible in contemporary language entitled The Message explains these words of Jesus in this way:  “Live in me.  Make your home in me just as I do in you.  In the same way that a branch can’t bear grapes by itself but only by being joined to the vine, you can’t bear fruit unless you are joined with me.” [John 15:4 The Message] It is in the state of mutuality of love and abiding that the best of our fruit in service to Christ is produced.

Certainly, this is a lesson we have learned from our physical isolation of the past year.  It is our human nature to begin to feel alienated and distrustful of friends and family members who are out of touch and separated from us for long periods of time; maintaining and fostering those healthy relationships require energy and intention and presence.

Worshipping in our comfy clothes while we sip coffee in front of our computers has been an enticing means of staying connected, but after months of that practice, our connection begins to grow dim.  A flaming log pulled away from the fire will lose its flame, grow cold, and die.

We miss each other; we miss the awe of this special place where we are drawn together in worship and praise; we sense with sadness our distance from the vine; we recognize with renewed fervor our need for the vine grower.  So, here we are; pruned of our laziness and apathy, here we are, drawing ever closer to the vine where we produce ever-healthier fruit, abiding in God, making our home in God.

As we read in the Acts of the Apostles, Philip made his home in God, guided by the spirit to bring one most considered an unclean outcast – a foreign, pagan, eunuch – into the fold of Christ.  And, John reminds us that we make our home in God where love is, for, as we read in John’s first letter, “God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them.”

Acts 4:5-12 1 John 3:16-24 John 10:11-18 Psalm 23

Jesus said, “I am the good shepherd.  The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.”

In our account from the Acts of the Apostles, Jesus’ closest followers are gathered as prisoners on trial by high priests, elders, and scribes.  Betrayals and denial and abandonments and doubts are behind them now.  Convinced of the reality of the Resurrection, they are now understanding what it is to be called to pick up the mantle and continue the mission of the Risen Christ who is no longer present as they had known him in his earthly human nature.  By this time, Jesus had ascended to heaven, and the apostles have received the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.   They draw strength from the words of Jesus, the Good Shepherd, who had laid down his life for them, especially now as their lives are being sought by the same adversaries.

As we continue our journey through these weeks following Easter, we draw ourselves closer to the words of this Good Shepherd who laid his life for our redemption.  And, we listen more intently, for Jesus’ words are intended for us just as they were intended for these first century followers.

Two weeks ago, on the Second Sunday of Easter, we explored the reality of human doubt.  Through the Apostle Thomas we addressed the skepticism of the news that is too good to be true – Jesus had been raised from the dead.  Thomas encounters the Risen Christ and his doubt becomes confirmed belief.  Through Thomas, we learn that as Christians we no longer must see in order to believe.  Rather, we see because we believe.  In confronting our doubts, we draw closer to the Risen Christ.  As evangelists of the good news, we find encouragement in Jesus’ words to Thomas and guidance in our mission to help bring others through periods of doubt into the fold of believers.

Last week, again, we were gathered with the disciples as we encountered the Risen Christ transcending walls and yet physically hungry, requesting fish to eat.  Jesus affirmed the goodness of our own human nature as the ongoing physical presence of Christ in the world.  Jesus breathed peace to his disciples gathered in fear of adversaries in the days following the Resurrection.  Jesus breathes peace into our hearts as we are called to be his hands and feet and voice in the world.

And so, our journey in and through the world is a very human journey where doubt and fear are real.  Our journey in and through the world requires us to draw closer daily to Jesus Christ, to lay our hands upon the pierced wound of his side inviting him to come to us wherever we are – Jesus Christ, who assuages our doubt and brings peace to our fears through his real presence with us.

Again and again, throughout our Gospel accounts Jesus presents himself as the shepherd and us as his sheep.  This fourth Sunday of Easter is Good Shepherd Sunday.

Jesus said, “I am the good shepherd.  The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.”  It is a metaphor well understood by followers in first century Palestine.  To the people of first century Palestine who understood the relationship of shepherd and sheep, this is a powerful metaphor.  To their flocks, the shepherds were trustworthy, self-sacrificing protection and wise, authentic guidance.

We continue to draw upon this sacrificial trusting role of shepherd as it relates to our relationship to Jesus Christ, the Good Shepherd.  Even as we commend our deceased loved ones to God, our prayer is this:

Into thy hands, O merciful Savior, we commend thy servant N.  Acknowledge, we humbly beseech thee, a sheep of thine own fold, a lamb of thine own flock, a sinner of thine own redeeming.  Receive her/him into the arms of thy mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light.   Amen.

A sheep of thine own fold, a lamb of thine own flock.  God, through Jesus Christ, is our trusted, self-sacrificing protection and wise, authentic guidance – our Good Shepherd.

With the rod and staff of Jesus Christ as our guide, we confront and explore our doubts until we find ourselves being led along the right path; we come to see because we believe; we rest in the green pastures of God’s provision.

With Jesus Christ as our protector, we confront our fears; bringing them to the Risen Christ where we invite the Good Shepherd to breathe peace into us – assurance that the evil of the world cannot separate us from God as we journey in the abiding sense of God’s overflowing grace – drawing closer and closer into the house of the Lord – a sheep of his own fold, a lamb of his own flock, a sinner of his own redeeming where goodness and mercy follow us all the days of our lives and we dwell here in the house of our Lord forever.

Acts 3:12-19 1 John 3:1-7 Luke 24:36b-48 Psalm 4

Jesus, himself, stood among the disciples.  He showed them his hands and his feet.  They gave him a piece of broiled fish and he ate it.

Since Easter Sunday, we have been absorbed in the mystery and the miraculous, and yet the reality, of the resurrection.  With few exceptions, life-long Christians readily accept the divinity of Christ, God Incarnate, who came to earth for the purpose of our redemption.  Jesus was and is fully divine; Jesus overcame death and, thus, fulfills the promise of everlasting life.

Today, inspired by our Gospel account from Luke, we stop to reconsider the human person of Jesus Christ.  Jesus, living and dying as one of us.  Jesus, fully human, emptied himself of his divinity, and withstood the horrors of earthly persecution and crucifixion for our sake.

It is too easy for us to say that Jesus was divine and did divine things that we, as humans, could not possibly be expected to endure or perform.

Perhaps we feel it a bit heretical to consider Jesus as a fully human person.  But, our acceptance of Jesus’ humanity is essential.  Jesus’s humanity is essential to our salvation.  Sin came to God’s creation through human downfall; thus, the price paid to reconcile human sin was required to be paid through a human.  Through God’s salvific plan, sin was necessarily reconciled on earth through the human Jesus, the human person of Jesus Christ – God’s Incarnate Son.  God did this through the human person of Jesus Christ.   It was necessary that God did this through the human person of Jesus Christ.

Further, in affirming the human Jesus, we embrace the goodness of our own human state.  As God forms us from the dust of the earth and knows each of us from before our formation in our mother’s womb, we are blessed as human beings, essential to God’s glorious creation; we are called to value life and care for our bodies as holy vessels that allow us to love and serve as we are called.  From the time God created us, we are called to be caretakers of the entirety of God’s glorious creation.  Embracing the goodness of our human bodies is essential to this responsibility.  Our humanity is essential to our mission as sinners saved by the Blood of Christ.

And, more clearly perhaps, we understand that Jesus’s humanity is essential to our salvation.   Jesus’s humanity is essential to our call to discipleship.  Aspiring Olympians, training and sacrificing for perfect their athletic acumen, look to mentors and role models for energy and inspiration.  These mentors and role models are not superhumans, otherwise their place as role models would present an impossible goal.  Similarly, if Jesus’ time on earth had been as singularly divine, how could we aspire to be like him.  If Jesus had not experienced human suffering, how could we look to him for strength in overcoming our own suffering.

Affirming and confirming Jesus’ post-resurrection physical presence is an important goal of our Gospel lesson.   Jesus was and is present in the world though not of the world; he calls us to be present in the world while not being distracted or consumed by the evils of the world.

Christ is risen from the grave; our call to discipleship is renewed once again; we are commissioned to be the physical human presence of Jesus Christ in the world.

Alleluia, Christ is Risen.

Numbers 21:4-9 Ephesians 2:1-10 John 3:14-21 Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22

Jesus said, “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.”

What do you see when you gaze upon a crucifix, when you gaze upon the bleeding, dying Jesus on the cross?

We are so very blessed at the Church of the Advent to have in our midst the Christus Rex that adorns the wall above the altar.  Christus Rex – Christ the King, victorious over the grave.  His hands and feet bear the wounds of the nails that affixed his body on the cross.  But, upon his head is the crown of victory; his countenance is that of complete satisfaction and welcome.  His gaze draws us into his abundantly welcoming arms.  He is the victor, and as we gaze upon this gift, we glory evermore in the blessings of our salvation through the one perfect and complete sacrifice.

The more reformed Protestant churches, on the other hand, typically place an empty cross as the focal point of their worship spaces.  The empty cross declares that Christ has come down from the cross and been raised from the dead.  Christ has redeemed us from our sins; the cross no longer bears the broken bleeding body of our Lord.

The empty cross remains the symbol of the salvation for all humankind.  The cross we wear tells the world that we are followers of Jesus Christ who has come down from the cross and risen from the dead.  This symbol of degradation and death is our symbol of salvation and life.  We wrap it in purple and lift it up for the world to see.

In contrast, our Roman Catholic brothers and sisters in Christ along with other orthodox traditions of the world feature the Crucifix – the bleeding, dying Christ on the cross.  Every painful wound – the raw gaping slash marks of the whip, the gravel-filled abrasions suffered with each fall under the weight of the cross and the brutality of the guards who pushed and shoved Jesus along the path to the cross, the bleeding wounds of the nails so barbarously hammered through the tendons of his feet and hands – every painful bleeding wound is a remnant of our sins – the sins of our bleeding and broken world, so readily accepted and suffered by our Lord.

What do you see when you gaze upon a crucifix, when you gaze upon the bleeding, dying Jesus on the cross?

In this amazing Old Testament account of the Israelites in the wilderness, Moses is instructed by God to set a bronze serpent upon a pole – the very symbol of the peoples’ death that had been brought about by their sin.  Now, God has overcome this source of death; returning to obedience, the people live.  Looking upon this source of death, now overcome by God, they are saved.

Our Gospel lesson begins with Jesus’ words, “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.”

As we move day by day through this season of penitence, we are called to gaze upon the bleeding broken body of Jesus Christ upon the cross.  We are called to reflect with great intention on our place in the infliction of each of those wounds, contemplating just how it is that we are healed by those wounds.

So, as we walk through our Lenten wilderness, we focus our gaze on the Crucifix; we walk that journey to the cross; we stand there at Jesus’ feet.  This, we must do before we can begin to grasp the wideness of God’s healing grace and mercy.  This, we must do before we can gaze upon the glory of the Christus Rex with the wounded hands and feet and sing our most sincere and heartfelt hallelujahs.  With the Israelites in the wilderness, we gaze upon the source of impending death in order to embrace the reality of our salvation from death.  “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”