Beware of Wolves in Sheep’s Clothing: A Sermon for our Youth/Young Adult Service

 

Grace, peace, and mercy are yours from the Triune God. Amen.

 

The reading for tonight is a set of verses that brings to a close Matthew’s version of Jesus’s sermon on the mount. After spending all this time listening to Jesus’ teachings, the people hear some final lessons on false prophets, bad fruit, and self-deception.

 

Scot McKnight, a New Testament scholar, urges us to turn the beginning of this text back to ourselves like a mirror and ask, “Am I the false prophet of this text?” I will admit that sometimes I’m guilty of this – being patient, kind, compassionate, and all the other qualities that make me a good priest while I’m at the office, the church, or in collar…but then at other times, I can be impatient or easily angered. In these times I pray to understand why this is happening and what I can do to rectify it.

 

False prophets are found everywhere in our world; they are all over the place. Have you ever watched a baseball player hit a homerun and when he gets to home plate, he points to the sky in thanksgiving? Or how about when a natural disaster occurs and someone goes onto social media and declares that God sent the disaster to wipe out *insert any marginalized group here*? During a natural disaster a few years ago, there were claims that God created the disaster to “wipe out the gays”.

 

False prophets are often sincere, truly believing themselves to be messengers of God. However, these are people who put on two different faces – one they know or think their friends, family, or society wants to see, and the other as their true selves. These are teachers or pastors who are “in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves” who are leading believers astray. These are people who will tell you that nothing needs to be done during a crisis because God will take care of it. Pray it away! (Whatever “it” may be.) These false prophets think that every problem has a simple solution. A quick quote from the bible, some thoughts and prayers, and all will be well again.

 

But life isn’t that simple. Life is messy. Life is complicated. So, beware of false prophets who tell you that prayer alone will help. Jesus tells us that bearing good fruit, having action behind your prayers, is what will get you through this messy and complicated life.

 

This brings us to the second half of tonight’s lesson. In these verses, Matthew is telling us that simply calling out the Lord’s name won’t get you anywhere. There is no foundation to your life if you simply put God’s name in your mouth only when it benefits you. Where is your foundation if you claim disbelief in God in one breath and then call for God in times of trouble? With a solid faith foundation, you will be “like a wise man who built his house on rock.”

 

“If you think of nothing but Christ, and do not set yourselves to do his words, you but build your houses on the sand,” says George MacDonald, a Scottish Congregational minister from the 19^th century. To have God as your foundation, you must do more than just live in God’s name; you must also work in God’s name, doing the things that God wants you to do. Superficiality will get you no where with God. Using God’s name in vain will get you no where with God. It is easy to say your works are in God’s name, but it is hard to be sincere about it. If you are insincere in your work, then your foundation will be like sand, and you will sink or collapse.

 

Ask yourself this question posed by Mr. MacDonald, “What have you done this day because it was the will of Christ?” Have you fed the hungry or clothed the naked? Have you forgiven those who can’t forgive you? Have you turned back to save your enemy even though they might not have done the same for you? Simply stating that you are Christian, that you follow Jesus, that you believe in God is not enough. Yes, we have salvation by faith alone, but faith without works is dead. “For just as the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without works is also dead.” (James 2:26) Jesus calls for us to not only have faith, but to act on the faith, to work on being in right relationship with each other in order to have right relationship with God. Saying, “Lord, Lord” either as a cry for help or a liturgical acclamation is not enough. We must engage in doing deeds that matches the work of Jesus, or else risk hearing from him, “I never knew you.” And I’m sure none of us here want to take that risk.

 

Amen.

To God, We Are Family: A Sermon for the 4th Sunday of Easter

Photo Credit: Jay Moon on pexels.com

Grace, peace, and mercy are yours from the Triune God. Amen.

 

Psalm 23 is one of the most famous psalms in the world. Many people, of all walks of life, at one time or another, have heard this psalm read and can usually recite at least one line of the psalm. As Walter Brueggemann states, “The grip it has on biblical spirituality is deep and genuine.”

 

Most people associate the psalm with one common event: a funeral. But there is so much more to this psalm than sadness and death. It is widely considered that David wrote the majority of the psalms, including Psalm 23, as a reflection on events that happened or were happening in his life at the time. Because he grew up a shepherd, many of David’s writings depicted the metaphor of seeing God as a shepherd.

 

The definition of a shepherd's job is to care for his flock, making sure they are safe, nourished, calm, and happy at all times. However, the term “shepherd” has come to be used in a much broader way, describing leadership either of an individual or a group as well as referring to a “king whose task it is to protect and provide for the subjects of the realm.” David tends to use metaphors such as “rock”, “shield”, and “deliverer” but by using “shepherd”, someone who lives with his flock and protects it with his life, David is showing us just how intimate his relationship with God really is. So it is of no surprise that the imagery found in Psalm 23 is rich in metaphor and theology with the predominant metaphor being that of God the shepherd which flows throughout the entire psalm.

 

Most are quite satisfied to interpret this psalm in a way that puts the shepherd as the centre of the imagery. Christians even go as far as to say that the psalm is referring to Jesus, although the Jewish author of the psalter would not have seen it that way at all. However, Psalm 23 can be seen as being written from the vantage point of the sheep, instead of the shepherd.  Examining verses 1 through 3, you can see that David thought of God as his protector, provider, and king and knew that he would want for nothing, that he lacked nothing. David had faith that God would always provide. While a shepherd by trade, he considered himself a sheep to the shepherd God.

 

One of the most famous lines of Psalm 23 is verse 4a: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of death, I fear no evil.” You will often hear this line recited not only at funerals, but also in movies and television shows where the person feels they are about to enter a dark or dangerous time in their life. While normally associated with the hidden powers of death, verse 4 is imagery that turns away from the sheep and towards that of a traveller in a place where the roads were unsafe, perhaps either literally or metaphorically. While God doesn’t promise an easy life empty of suffering or trials, God does promise to walk with us during troubled times, providing comfort, courage, and strength. Despite being hunted by Saul, being a womanizer, and being an all-around sinner, David is convinced that the presence of God is enough to get him through all of his trials and tribulations.

 

While it is quite common to say that the shepherd metaphor flows through the entire psalm, many scholars believe that in the final part of the psalm, verses 5 to 6, the image of God the shepherd switches to the image of God the host and giver of hospitality. No greater security or comfort could be obtained by a traveler in the ancient Near East than to be offered the hospitality of a home. Not only was there shelter and food, but there was also protection. By preparing a table in front of David’s enemies, God was publicly announcing that no harm can come to David.

 

Psalm 23 is a very deep and powerful message about David’s trust and faith in God. It is loaded with theology, imagery, and metaphor. So why then do we always associate the psalm with death? Why is it such a popular piece of text even to the secular world? As it turns out, the popularity of Psalm 23 is a relatively new concept, largely influenced by the Protestant imprint on North American culture. Throughout the 19^th century, Psalm 23 became synonymous with North American views of death but prior to that, the psalm was not often seen, heard, or discussed. Sunday school literature often discussed death with reminders of discipleship in order to gain a good death. But Psalm 23 was not to be found. The Book of Common Prayer did not have Psalm 23 as a funeral psalm, instead listing Psalm 39 and 90. As well, prior to the Civil War, Psalm 23 was not part of popular culture such as deathbed scenes in novels. It wasn’t until two decades after the war that Psalm 23 began to show up in secular culture.

 

Today, Psalm 23 is firmly imbedded into our culture. Even those parents with a looser hold on their Christian beliefs will teach their children the Lord’s Prayer and Psalm 23 in what has been called a “double summary of faith.”  Books, movies, songs, hymns, greeting cards, and wall plaques have immortalized this song of praise ahead of others in the collection of 150 psalms. It is short and easy for people to memorize and there are plenty of feel-good messages that can be pulled from the psalm. One message contained in the first three verses is one of affirmation of God’s continued trustworthiness to provide for our growth, health, and protection. The Valley of the Shadow of Death could mean either a literal road that may contain dangers or a metaphorical road full of life and death moments that occur in our lives. In either case, the psalmist wants us to know that God will keep us safe not by deflecting trouble from our paths but instead by journeying with us. The second half of the psalm has an overlying message of faith, trust, and the promise of everlasting life. A banquet set in front of your enemies shows faith in God’s protection and that by staying with God, a person will experience all of God’s love and mercy for all eternity.

 

Ultimately, when you sit back and listen to Psalm 23, you can find comfort in the shepherd imagery, knowing that if you stay with God the shepherd you will be forever safe. Shepherds are tasked with taking care of large herds of sheep, of making sure they stay alive, are fed, and are brought safely to their place of grazing, and them home again, of course. And, if even one sheep wanders off and gets lost, the shepherd will go and find that one sheep, trusting that the herd will take care of themselves for a few moments. To the shepherd, the sheep are family. The image of the shepherd can be used to describe our relationship with God. God tends to all people, cares for us, makes sure we have what we need, ensures we know we are loved, and will find us if we get lost. To God, we are family.

 

And that is good news, indeed. Amen.

Everybody Doubts: A Sermon for the 2nd Sunday of Easter

O God, may the finger of your Spirit stir through the clutter of my words to point to a new understanding. Amen.

 

Today’s reading is one of four post-resurrection stories in the Gospel of John. The first is the Easter morning narrative, in which Mary Magdalene goes to the tomb and finds the stone removed. She notifies Peter and the Beloved Disciple, who then come but leave for their homes. The second story in John’s Gospel relates the appearance of the risen Jesus to Mary Magdalene. Those two scenes take up the first 18 verses in chapter 20.

 

The next two stories make up the reading for today. The first takes place with the disciples gathered at a house in the evening of Easter Day in or near Jerusalem, and there is an appearance of Jesus to his disciples, when Thomas is absent. The second narrates an appearance of Jesus to his disciples a week later when Thomas is present. No explanation is given for the gathering of the disciples but the reason for the disciples to meet behind locked doors is fear. They’re hiding out because the person they thought would save them has died and they’re sure their number is up next. They’re lost and they don’t know what to do now.

 

Jesus appears in the midst of the disciples and gives them the common Jewish greeting: “Peace” (or “Shalom”). He identifies himself by showing his hands and side. The reaction of the disciples is one of rejoicing. A commissioning follows. Jesus says that he had been sent by God, which leads into the “Johannine Pentecost”. According to the Fourth Evangelist, the gift of the Spirit was bestowed on the evening of Easter Day itself, not on Pentecost some seven weeks later, as others have it. The disciples are immediately commissioned and given the Spirit as a power that will enable them to witness to Christ. Then the authorization to forgive sins completes the series of events on Easter Day.

 

All of these events are quite important, but it is the next scene that I’d like to focus on today. The scene that opens with the disciples gathered again in the house on the following Sunday, but this time Thomas is present. After Jesus first appeared to the disciples, they told an absent Thomas that they had seen the risen Lord. Thomas was emphatic about not believing unless he had the same experience. When Jesus later comes again to the house where the disciples were hiding, he invites Thomas to see and touch the wounds in his hands and side. He does not humiliate Thomas but gives him what he needs. Thomas confesses: “My Lord and my God!”

 

The final verse of the scene is a bit tricky. Jesus’ lays out a final beatitude, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” Is Jesus rebuking Thomas for not believing without seeing?

 

But Thomas didn’t doubt Christ, he doubted his followers. He doubted those that gave witness to the risen Christ, perhaps because they showed no evidence. Thomas gets a lot of flak for doubting Jesus’ return, but the rest of the disciples were no different. They didn’t believe Mary when she announced that she had seen Jesus. Instead, two of them ran to the tomb to see it with their own eyes. They didn’t believe Jesus when he appeared to them in the room. They needed him to show his scars. Even after encountering the risen Christ, they were locking themselves in a room. Is there any wonder that Thomas didn’t believe them? He had to ask questions; he had to make sure. So, is Thomas really all that different from the rest of the disciples?

 

John doesn’t say why Thomas isn’t in the room for the initial appearance of Jesus. It is assumed that Thomas was a doubter and lost his faith when Jesus died on the cross. But put yourself in Thomas’ shoes. How would you feel after watching your teacher, mentor, friend die such a gruesome death? Maybe Thomas preferred to grieve alone so chose not to go to the upper room with the rest of the guys? What if Thomas, after watching Jesus die on the cross, wasn’t in the room with the others because he had already gone back to his life? Does that make Thomas a doubter, or a realist? Thomas has been told by Jesus himself that by seeing Jesus he has seen God. So, when the disciples tell him three days after the crucifixion that they have seen Jesus alive, is it any wonder he wants to see for himself?

 

He knows what seeing Jesus means. Seeing Jesus means seeing God. Ah, yes, you might say, but he doesn't just want to see him, he says he will not believe until he does see him. But, here again, we see Thomas actually being faithful to Jesus. Because Jesus has told the disciples, "Beware that you are not led astray; for many will come in my name and say, 'I am he!' and 'The time is near!' Do not go after them." (Luke 21:8). Thomas will not be led astray. He's going to test. He must see for himself. After all, seeing is believing. He must ask questions; he must make sure. Ultimately, Thomas is both the one who sees and believes that Jesus has risen and the one who has not seen, but believes beyond seeing that Jesus is Lord.

 

I can relate to Thomas. I am a questioner, a doubter. My path to standing here today is full of doubt, and questions, and searching. I have never stopped asking questions. Does that make me less faithful to Christ, to God? Some might say so, but Jesus himself tells us to not accept things on blind faith. Truly, doubt is the pathway to faith. When we doubt, we probe, question, and search. Perhaps Thomas started with doubt, but he ended with the greatest testimony of the disciples, “My Lord and my God!”

 

In Thomas, we see the pattern of Christian evangelism established from the beginning of John’s Gospel. One person encounters Jesus. Then they share their experience with the next person, who may express some reluctance. Then that person experiences Jesus on their own and becomes convinced about him and then shares the news about Jesus with the next person. Andrew tells Peter. Philip tells Nathanael. The Samaritan woman tells the townspeople. “Come and See” is the refrain.

 

With respect to the witness of the resurrected Jesus, Mary Magdalene starts it off. She encounters Jesus, shares the news; the others don’t really buy it until they have their own experiences so that they can own the experience. They become convinced and then share it with Thomas. Like the other disciples, Thomas doesn’t come to the fullest faith until he has his own experience. Then the story moves through the chain, and you and I are up next.

 

Thomas makes his confession and, through this text, testifies to us. Now what will we do? Will we hang in there with some level of interest and commitment until we encounter Jesus in a way that moves us to the next level? What evidence do we use to show that there is a risen Christ? If all we do is lock ourselves in rooms (sanctuaries, churches, institutions), then why would anyone believe that we have been changed by a miraculous experience? Do we actually believe that Jesus breathes the Spirit into us, asking to work on being disciples ourselves and then going into the world to talk about the faith and life we have in Christ? Or do we prefer to sit in our locked rooms commiserating about what used to be? If nothing else, I hope that the story of Thomas shows us that Jesus’ plan is not for us to sit in a locked room by ourselves.

 

In the end, it’s not Thomas’s doubting that matters; it’s his believing. Everybody doubts; not everyone believes. Jesus addresses us who have not been eyewitnesses to the resurrection. We are also blessed when we believe. As John affirms, the whole of the gospel is given to us to help us believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and to have new life in his name. If we are unable to talk openly and clearly about the life Christ has called us to, then we will never be able to share that message with friends, family, neighbours, and others that we meet each day. We will be less likely to believe the promise of new life that Jesus gives us. And we will be unable to share with others why our faith is meaningful to us.

 

A life of discipleship calls us to our own spiritual growth, but also to sharing that faith. We need to unlock the doors and stop hiding in familiar spaces hoping the rest of the world won’t bother us. If we take resurrection seriously, then we need to boldly and faithfully walk into the world knowing that God is waiting for us, working with us, and blessing us as we minister to all of God’s creation. And we need to trust in the promise that God has already brought us into a new life.

 

I pray that we become a believing Thomas. That while we may start in doubt, we become awestruck and moved to proclaim to world “My Lord and my God!”

 

Amen

Don’t Be Afraid? Easy for You to Say!: A Sermon for Resurrection Sunday

O God, may the finger of your Spirit stir through the clutter of my words to point to a new understanding. Amen.

 

In the morning after the Sabbath, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, went to the tomb. In other gospels, there is talk about the women bringing burial spices to prepare the body. But Matthew knows better. He knows that Jesus’ body had already been anointed, meaning he didn’t need further anointing for his burial. So, in Matthew’s gospel, it simply says that the women were going to see the tomb. To me, it’s like any other time someone would go visit the grave of someone they love who had died.

 

The women, the two Mary’s, went to see the tomb. When they got to the tomb there was a great earthquake, and an angel came and rolled back the stone that covered the entrance to the tomb. The guards were afraid, and it seems that the women were too because the first thing that the angel said was, “do not be afraid.” The angel then told them that Jesus was not there, but rather that he was alive. The women are told to go and tell all that they have learned. As they go on their way, they encountered Jesus and he also says to them, “do not be afraid.”

 

“Do not be afraid.” Easy for Jesus to say! Can you imagine what these women were going through?! They came to the tomb because they loved Jesus, and they came filled with grief and sadness, filled with a sense of loss both for their friend that was gone and also for all that he represented to them. Can you imagine the despair these women would have been feeling? If you have ever grieved the loss of someone you loved, then you know that grief, sadness, and despair would have been the least that these women were feeling.

 

And to discover that Jesus is not in the tomb?! So now on top of all that sadness, grief, and despair, they’re feeling fear, too! Fear for what has happened to his body. Fear of the strange being that is there in front of them. Fear to really believe, to let hope back into their hearts, that maybe Jesus really was alive.

 

So often, throughout the bible, we come across these words of assurance, “Do not be afraid.” Typically, these words are said by an angel, it’s kind of their calling card. It is how you know you are being visited by an angel. Luke’s account of Jesus’ birth and Matthew’s account of Jesus’ resurrection contain these words of reassurance which seem to wrap the entire gospel narrative in those words, “Do not be afraid.” These are among the first words uttered by Gabriel to Mary when he tells her she will bear a son named Jesus. Then, an angel uses these same words to reassure Mary Magdalene and the other Mary when they find the tomb of Jesus empty and the earth shaking.

 

Fear is a powerful emotion and can affect people in different ways. For some, fear is empowering because it gives the person the adrenaline they need to move forward, to try something new, to go on an adventure, etc. For others, fear can be paralyzing, debilitating, and can make you run away. I’m sure you’ve heard of fight, flight, or freeze. The fight response is your body's way of facing any perceived threat aggressively. Flight means your body urges you to run from danger. Freeze is your body's inability to move or act against a threat. A new one I learned is fawn, which is your body's stress response to try to please someone to avoid conflict. For me, fear plays terrible tricks on my mind. It locks me into place, makes me freeze up, and often takes away opportunities. If I am full of fear, I am more likely to run away than to go and tell.

 

As a child, when you are gripped with fear, there is often someone who can help – parent, grandparent, sibling – someone to say the words, “do not be afraid.” And as a child, it is easy to believe those words of reassurance, to take great comfort from them. Fear is bigger for adults, more complex, and those words of reassurance are harder to come by. As adults, we live with enormous responsibilities and complex realities. If we hear the words, “do not be afraid,” we are often suspicious of the sincerity behind those words. Think about a time someone told you, “Do not be afraid. There is nothing to worry about.” When someone says to us, “do not be afraid,” the words often feel like empty platitudes. Something like, “there, there.”

 

And yet, here are these angels, to Mary at the beginning of Jesus’ story and to Mary Magdalene at the tomb, coming to say just that – “do not be afraid.” These are not words of assurance that nothing will go wrong but, rather, assurance that whatever may happen to us, God has the power to strengthen us and uphold us; that no matter our fears, God will never leave us to face them alone; that nothing is stronger than God’s love and God will always get the last word.

 

The angel tells the people, “Do not be afraid.” This command concerning fear is on-going. We should never be afraid anymore! Jesus has won! Do not allow fear to keep you from sharing what you have seen here. Do not let fear keep you from hoping, and from what it means that the tomb is empty, and from what you know now to be true, even if you are having hard time understanding it.

 

The women are invited by the angel to come and see that Jesus is not here in the tomb, and then they are told go and tell. Because “come and see” must always be followed by “go and tell.” It's a part of the good news! We are to go and tell the ways that God has shocked us into bewilderment, caused us to hope in our hearts that there can be new life. We are called to tell where we see God's love and grace at play in our world and how God's peace has attended us in times of sadness and grief.

 

The Gospel that began with a man afraid to marry his disgraced betrothed and a fearful king who tries to kill potential rivals ends with overwhelming joy. Jesus’ command to the women becomes a command to all of us:

 

Stop being afraid!

God has defeated death.

Rejoice, and share the good news!

 

Amen.

A Lasting Presence: A Sermon for Maundy Thursday

O God, may the finger of your Spirit stir through the clutter of my words to point to a new understanding. Amen.

 

Holy Week is celebrated by both Jews and Christians alike - for similar reasons but with very different undertones. In tonight’s account in Exodus, God tells Moses and Aaron how to combat the 10th plague. Here’s a reminder of that plague, found in Exodus 11:

 

Moses said, “Thus says the LORD: About midnight I will go out through Egypt. Every firstborn in the land of Egypt shall die, from the firstborn of Pharaoh who sits on his throne to the firstborn of the female slave who is behind the handmill, and all the firstborn of the livestock. Then there will be a loud cry throughout the whole land of Egypt, such as has never been or will ever be again. But not a dog shall growl at any of the Israelites—not at people, not at animals—so that you may know that the LORD makes a distinction between Egypt and Israel.”

 

In tonight’s reading from Exodus 12, God instructs Moses and Aaron to have each family slaughter a lamb and spread its blood on their doorways. By doing so, they would be telling God which houses belong to the Israelites, and thus, by default, which belong to the Egyptians. It says in line 13, “The blood shall be a sign for you on the houses where you live: when I see the blood, I will pass over you, and no plague shall destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt.”

 

For the Jewish community, this week is one of celebration that commemorates the exodus of the Jews from slavery in Egypt. The Hebrew word pesach (pay-sock) refers to the ancient Passover sacrifice, known as the Paschal Lamb; it is also said to refer to the idea that God “passed over” the houses of the Jews during the 10th plague on the Egyptians, the slaying of the first born. The holiday is ultimately a celebration of freedom, and the story of the exodus from Egypt is a powerful metaphor that is appreciated not only by Jews, but by people of other faiths as well.

 

Passover is one of the most well-known Jewish holidays, as much for its connection to Jewish redemption and the figure of Moses as for its ties with Christian history. The Last Supper has been described as a Passover seder, a Jewish ritual feast that marks the beginning of the Jewish holiday of Passover.

 

According to the Synoptic Gospels, it is on Thursday evening that Jesus, in the upper room with his disciples, celebrates Passover and institutes the Lord's Supper. The Gospel of John, however, speaks of the Thursday supper as the day before Passover, linking Jesus' death on Friday with the Passover sacrifices. And so, while Jewish people are celebrating the joy of their freedom from slavery, this week, for Christians, is a week of sadness as we come closer to the end Jesus’ life. In the end, Christians will celebrate their freedom and forgiveness from sin, but the build-up to Easter Sunday is more sombre than joyful.

 

Tonight is an especially sombre night as Jesus lays the foundation of his departure even while his disciples are oblivious to the fact. There was no human reason why Jesus had to die. To the general public, he was more helpful than harmful. But to the Roman leadership, Jesus was a real pain.

 

Jesus was a small-town peasant in a Roman province far from the centers of political and religious power. People in such circumstances rarely threatened Rome in any serious way. A miracle-working Jewish prophet and teacher would not have posed much of a conventional threat to such power and brutality. For his own part, Jesus never took up arms, nor did he encourage his followers to do so.

But while Jesus did not exercise conventional kinds of political authority, his actions and his message included threats to the status quo. Chief among his threatening actions? Jesus could draw a crowd. The gospels report that great crowds followed him. When he entered Jerusalem during the last week of his life, he entered to local fanfare. The popularity of Jesus, combined with the gathering of perhaps hundreds of thousands of pilgrims in Jerusalem for Passover, would have made Roman authorities very nervous. It was this nervousness that flamed the desire to pull Jesus from hiding and set him on trial before Pilate.

 

Jesus knew this was all going to happen. He knew that his time on earth was coming to an end. He even knew who was going to hand him to Roman authorities. And he knew that the ending wasn’t going to be a pleasant one. So why didn’t he tell anyone? Why did he turn towards the end instead of running the other way? Cryptic as always, Jesus washes the feet of his disciples, declares that one of them will betray him, and tells them that he will only be with them a short while longer. And as usual, the whole situation goes over the disciples’ heads.

 

If you knew you were going to die, wouldn’t you tell your best friends? Wouldn’t you want you their support? Or at least give them a chance to say goodbye? Jesus didn’t do any of that, but he did impart some pretty heavy last lessons to his disciples.

 

First, he delivers to them a new commandment – to love one another. The reading says, “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” While the Romans thought Jesus was a rebel-rouser, he really was, in fact, a teacher in the art of love. In all of his miracles, parables, and lessons, the underlying fact is that all can be done and achieved through the love of one another and of the stranger.

 

Second, Jesus imparted a lesson of remembrance. Jesus may not have openly declared to his people what was about to happen, but he wanted his disciples to remember him and the lessons that he had been teaching.

And so, much in the Jewish tradition of seder, Jesus and his disciples had one final supper together.

 

The Last Supper is one of the foundational pieces of the Christian faith. To accept the Eucharist in remembrance and thanks to the life and death of Jesus is to openly declare yourself one of his disciples. It is what makes this night so special, despite its darkness. Similar to the Jewish celebration of freedom from Egyptian slavery, tonight we, as Christians, celebrate our freedom to declare our love and faith in Jesus and reveal our willingness to follow in his footsteps.

 

Feel the quiet power these words: Take this bread and eat it. It is my body. As you eat it, remember me. Take this wine and drink it. It is my blood. As you drink it, remember me.

 

Almost 20 years ago, I read out loud tonight’s Corinthians passage aloud for the first time, my lips sounding out the words of our Eucharistic prayers. I felt a presence in those words, a presence that I felt physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I heeded the words of the Messiah, and the presence I felt, and became his disciple. Those words changed my life.

 

Tonight is a powerful night. It was for the disciples 2000 years ago. It was for me all those years ago. It is for us tonight. As we witness the stripping of our worship space and go into the darkness, there remains a presence. One that will remain with us until Jesus comes to us once again.

 

Amen.

Broken Promises: A Sermon for the 4th Sunday in Lent

Grace, peace, and mercy are yours from the Triune God. Amen.

 

A couple of weeks ago, Liz preached on the concept of trust and how easy it is to lose trust in others, causing us to turn inward, trusting only in ourselves. From my experience, the fastest route to broken trust is through broken promises.

 

Have you ever had something promised to you, only to have it taken away? A job or a promotion, perhaps? Or maybe a raise at work?

 

One person lying to another is a form of a broken promise. Like a promise to show up at an event for you, maybe a birthday party or a celebratory dinner, only to not show up at all.

 

How do these broken promises make you feel?

 

One of my favorite shows in my teen years was the Fresh Prince of Bel Air. In one episode, Will’s dad, who had abandoned him when he was little, came back into his life and made all sorts of promises to take Will with him on the road (he was a truck driver) and telling Will they’d be together again. Despite warnings from Uncle Phil, Will was super excited his dad had come for him and was ready to hit the road. Not really unexpected to the audience, Will’s dad snuck out on him just as he had done when he was a little boy, breaking Will’s heart all over again.

 

I have done a lot of reading over the past few years on Indigenous and Settler history, relationships, and reconciliation. The book I’m currently reading is called “52 Ways to Reconcile.” If you want to hear more about it, feel free to ask me later. But in one chapter, it reminded me that the treaties signed all those years ago were based on promises – promises to exchange land for things like cash, blankets, clothing, community schools, and farm equipment. All that conversation is for another time. My point is that just as easily as those promises were made (noting that the Indigenous people couldn’t read the documents put before them), those promises were broken, and most remain broken to this day.

 

These are just a couple of examples of how easy it is to break a promise. Sometimes it feels like we have become quite calloused to the problem of broken promises. Our default tends to be an expectation that promises will be broken. Words come cheap. It is so easy to blurt out a promise, but it is harder to keep that promise.

 

In our reading today, our main man Peter seems to be struggling with things that were easy to say and hard to do. The night started off well, twelve friends gathered around a table, sharing a meal. Celebrating the Passover, as one does. Maybe telling stories about everything that happened over the last while. You know, just relaxing and taking a load off. And then Jesus decided that now was the time to get serious. First, he institutes the Lord’s Supper, and then he says, “You will all fall away because of me this night, for it is written, ‘I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.’”

 

Jesus reveals to his group of friends that he knows they will scatter from him when things get hard. He already identified Judas as a betrayer and declares that the rest of them are about to do the same thing – desert their teacher. Peter would have none of it, and he let Jesus know it. “No way will I ever leave you,” he says. Jesus insists, “Truly I tell you, this very night, before the cock crows, you will deny me three times.” Peter jumps in and promises he’d never do that. “I promise. I pinky swear. I’m going anywhere. No matter what!” The rest of the guys are nodding their heads in agreement.

 

Well, we know how the rest of that story goes, don’t we? In fear for his life, watching what was happening to Jesus, and terrified the same would happen to him, not once, not twice, but three times Peter denies his association with Jesus. He had made a promise to Jesus to never abandon him, and yet, when the moment came, when he felt the threat of danger and suffering, he folded and collapsed. He forgot his promise. He knew it, too. As soon as that cock crowed, “he went out and wept bitterly.”

 

So easy was it for him to throw out the promise to stay at Jesus’ side, but when times got hard, Peter chose to keep a distance and to deny his relationship with Jesus. The other 10 weren’t any better. When Jesus needed his people the most, they weren’t there for him. Twelve broken promises.

 

Luther teaches that when Peter three times denied Jesus it was no mere backsliding, but it was the rejection of Christ and the death of faith. There in the courtyard, with the denial echoing off the hard walls, Peter was lost. If we read a little further on, we know that there’s hope for Peter. He turns to Jesus who then forgives him and even restores Peter’s place in the group.

 

While Judas’ story is a lesson on broken trust, Peter’s story warns us of the problem of broken promises. He warns us about the problem of words quickly and idly spoken that prove difficult and costly to keep. Peter shows us what it’s like to break a promise.

 

We are often too quick to judge poor Peter, however. Put yourself in his shoes. Have you ever missed a chance to witness with bold confidence to the truth of God? Have you ever been part of a conversation when you wanted to make your faith clear, but somehow you just couldn’t find the words, so you simply chose to remain silent? Have you ever decided it was easier to not let the people around you now that you are Christian? Have you ever seen someone in need and averted your eyes? Our promise to Jesus might not look quite the same as Peter’s but we are just as likely to break our promise to him as Peter did. We are, after all, simply human.

 

But, as with Peter, we know that in these lowest of times, we can look to Jesus for forgiveness and restoration. In Jesus, we are forgiven for our slip-ups and are given strength to try and keep our promises to the best of our ability. Jesus’ grace and forgiveness is ours forever. The work we need to do in our lives is to be aware of throwing around the words “I promise”. Our task is to take that strength that Jesus gives us and put action behind promises made – whether to ourselves or to others. Our responsibility is to avoid empty promises, knowing how we feel when it happens to us. Here, in our community of faith, we can hold ourselves accountable to each other knowing that even if we slip up, even if we break our promises, Jesus will always restore our place in the group.

 

Amen.

Breaking Bread: A Sermon for the 3rd Sunday in Lent

Grace, peace, and mercy are yours from the Triune God. Amen.

 

Is there anything quite as wonderful as the smell of freshly baked bread? The ingredients are so simple – yeast, flour, eggs, butter, water, salt – but the smell when it comes out of the oven is heavenly. And what could be better than eating fresh hot bread? Eating bread easy but baking bread is a difficult skill to master. Variances in flour type, in water temperature, and in the humidity outside can all affect the outcome of a loaf. Bakers commit their entire lives to perfecting that perfect loaf of bread. When I first moved here, I bought all the ingredients to make bread, thinking it would be cheaper that buying bread. I still have yet to gather the courage to try!

 

Bread is both incredibly simple and infinitely complex. Terms like “daily bread” and “bread winner” and “breaking bread” are so woven into our vernacular that we forget they refer to actual, literal loaves that nourish us and that taste delicious too. So simple, so earthly, the extraordinary taste of fresh bread that provides the ordinary staple in the diet of so many people. Eating bread can be both a profoundly earthly and profoundly heavenly experience. That taste is exponentially greater when eaten while in the company of others and deeply felt when it is absent.

 

Throughout the sixth chapter of St. John's Gospel, Jesus has been saying that he is the bread of life; that he provides the only food which truly nourishes; that he gives us his own self, his own flesh and blood, to sustain us on our journey; and that we are actually to eat his flesh and blood in order to abide in him. These are, indeed, hard words, hard to hear, hard to understand, hard to believe. Earlier in the chapter, Jesus feeds five thousand plus, and compares this windfall to the manna the Israelites had received centuries before when they wandered the wilderness. Manna was God’s way of looking after the people of Israel. They received the blessing every day until they finally reached the land of promise. Then Jesus has a very long monologue about bread of life, which starts out nicely but ends with the command to eat his body and drink his blood.

 

It’s frightening and messy. To think that we should have life at the expense of another human being. These words are tantamount to cannibalism as Jesus’ followers reason it, and completely unacceptable in any reasonable, moral system of thinking. What Jesus was asking was a stark breaking of the Law. His listeners are offended by Jesus’ audacity. He is declaring himself to be manna, the “bread of life”. Just as manna gave life in the wilderness, so also Jesus gives life.

 

Although the crowd was initially enthusiastic about the idea of Jesus as one like Moses who could provide this miraculous bread, they reject the identification of Jesus with manna. They are rejecting him for who he is: the true bread from heaven whose death he claims will be grounds for establishing “eternal life” for them. And they begin to walk away. They begin to desert him. These aren’t people who have just joined him for the day. These were not mere hangers-on and band-waggoners who walked away. Note that John calls these folks not simply "the crowds," as in earlier passages, but rather "disciples." They were real followers who had probably been around for a while.

 

The people in today's reading who now desert Jesus are precisely those who had, in fact, believed in Jesus, those who had followed him and had given up much to do so. But his words became too muddled and too offensive for most of his followers. It got hard, they got tired of waiting for everything Jesus said would happen to happen, they didn’t like what he was preaching, so they left. They gave up and went home. A chapter that started with a huge crowd, ended with only twelve still willing to stick around, and even then, one of them is destined to betray him. The community that has been gathering around Jesus is beginning to break.

 

In the original manna story, the people’s response to God’s salvation is mixed. Although they initially herald the triumph of God in the Exodus, Israel immediately begins to grumble or complain against God and Moses in the wilderness. They do not trust God to take care of them. Similarly, the group following Jesus initially receives the miraculous food and heralds Jesus as a prophet. But they also begin to grumble against Jesus following his teaching about the manna. The faith that the disciples had put into Jesus is waning and their trust in him is fading.

 

The picture John draws for us in today's Gospel is not a pretty one, but it's a pretty realistic portrait of disbelief, of disciples then and now for whom the life of faith has become too hard. But the picture also includes courage and faith. Jesus turned to his twelve, his closest group, and said, “well I guess you want to go, too?” Peter responds, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

 

Peter’s response to Jesus is not a word of despair or a statement that they will have to settle for Jesus because there is nothing else. Peter and the others who remain have been given the gift of knowing that Jesus is the one who can give genuine life. It’s not that they weren’t plagued with doubt and fear. They suffered at times from a lack of courage, and they, too, eventually deserted Jesus – and at the very time he needed them the most. The difference was that they knew where to look when things got hard. They trusted that they could look to Jesus and lean on him.

 

The words of eternal life are not always simple or easy to hear. The words of eternal life remind us that life is not always plain; solutions to our problems are not straightforward. It is exactly because the words of eternal life ring true that we cannot leave. Where would we go? Who else will tell us the truth about life? Who else has lived the truth about life so fully?

 

John’s gospel begins with: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” For Christians, there is something about the Word that we cannot seem to find anywhere else. The gospel words of eternal life go straight to the soul. Each week, through listening to the Word, we're offered again and again the Word of eternal life. We're offered the chance to be encountered by Jesus and his living Word.

 

Through the speaking and hearing of the Word, Jesus' real presence is made manifest in our world, and we are pointed to the one place amid all the tumult and upset of this world and life we share that we can look to and know for sure that we will find God in Christ there for us. And through the breaking of the bread, we are able to tangibly experience Jesus’ presence.

 

When Jesus taught us to pray for “our daily bread,” he was teaching us that God wants us to depend on God for our everyday needs. “Daily bread” refers not just to food but to all that which we need for basic comfort and well-being: clothing, shelter, and other things necessary to support and continue our lives. When Jesus calls himself “the bread of life”, he is reminding us that he is something that we need in our everyday lives so that we have comfort and well-being.

 

I mentioned the feeding of the 5000 earlier. In that story, Jesus has provided physical food but uses that food to teach that he can provide spiritual food as well. He wants those who are listening to him to not just eat some bread and fish and then go home to hunger again. He wants them to develop a spiritual hunger and thirst that only he can fill. And where does he fill that spiritual hunger and thirst? Right here, at the communion table while in communion with others. Think of all the places you have taken communion, and the people whom you have taken communion alongside – people still living that you don’t see anymore, people who have died and seen only by God, people in this room, maybe even people whom you never met. Imagine all the places in which God has experienced this Eucharistic meal right alongside of you.

 

The communion that Jesus speaks of, describing himself as living bread, is something that has woven itself deeply into our life story. Jesus is the bread that came down from heaven, whose presence sustains us in every place and situation in which we find ourselves. It is in returning, again and again, for Jesus’ presence in Word and the sacrament of the Eucharist that we are conformed more and more to be like Jesus.

 

And in those times in life when challenges arise and we are not sure we have what it takes, we return again to be sustained by Jesus’ presence. And if we begin to feel unworthy of God’s love, we know that we can always return to the altar to confess and receive forgiveness. Then through Christ’s presence in the sacrament, we are once again fed for the coming week.

 

Jesus said, “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. … This is the bread that came down from heaven … the one who eats this bread will live forever.” In the bread of life, our souls are blessed and nourished. In the bread of life, nothing is lost, not even our brokenness. In the bread of life, we are raised to eternal life. And that is good news, indeed.

 

Amen.