Fourth Sunday After Pentecost

Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

1 After this the Lord appointed seventy others and sent them on ahead of him in pairs to every town and place where he himself intended to go. 2 Jesus said to them, “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers for the harvesting. 3 Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. 4 Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. 5 Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this house!’ 6 And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. 7 Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the laborer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. 8 Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; 9 cure the sick who are there, and say to them, ‘The reign of God has come near.’ 10 But whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you, go out into its streets and say, 11 ‘Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you. Yet know this: the reign of God has come near.’ 16 “Whoever listens to you listens to me, and whoever rejects you rejects me, and whoever rejects me rejects the one who sent me.”

 17 The seventy returned with joy, saying, “Lord, in your name even the evil spirits submit to us!”

18 Jesus said to them, “I watched the Accuser fall from heaven like a flash of lightning. 19 See, I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy; and nothing will hurt you. 20 Nevertheless, do not rejoice at this, that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”

 

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

God of peace,

In the midst of a world that feels like a lot recently,

You call us and send us out into the harvest.

Give us courage as we go,

And a willingness and boldness to share our story.

A story of wonderful love, incredible grace, and fervent hope.

A story about you.

Amen.

 

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Whenever we leave for any kind of trip, whether a long extended vacation like I just got back from or even just a weekend away, I always go through the same ritual. I’m usually the last one out the door because I’m always late; and our cat, Piper is usually in her tower by the fireplace watching everyone rush out the door and looking at us with judging eyes, as cats do; and I always walk by her scratch her head and say, “No parties. Or at least if you do, just clean up after yourself.”

And it always works. We always come home to a house just as we left it, maybe a hairball or two or a pile of vomit, just to let us know who’s actually the boss. But in 11 years, I haven’t had to clean up a single red solo cup or a game of kitty beer pong left set up on the kitchen counter.

Things tend to be just as we left them.

 

I am very glad to say that things are mostly just as left them here, too, church. Truly, such is the mark of an incredibly capable and gifted Staff. And my thanks to Pastor Janelle for covering for me, to Danny, Jessica, Jeffery last week and Hsiao-Lan this week, Wanda, and Aimee, as well as our Council and everyone who helps out with worship and everything else. Thank you for the time away, it was very refreshing for me, and I am truly able to rest because I know New Hope rests in such lovingly capable hands that are not my own. So thank you, and I am grateful.

But not only are things mostly just as I left them, things are actually much much better since I’ve been away. The Community Center is almost all the way done, we have new locks on all our doors, a brand new Conference Room in the Community Center, brand new doors on the Community Center and the Sanctuary…y’all have been busy!

It all looks really really good.

 

Things are much better here at New Hope than when I left.

Things in our country and elsewhere…? Ehhh…… Debatable… Maybe we’ll work on that next time.

 

It’s been a wild few weeks…amen, church?

Lots of folks are scared. Lots of folks are despairing. Some folks are rejoicing. Some of us don’t really know what to think. Some of us are feeling a whole lot of different things.

And it’s all ok. And it’s all holy.

 

But if you’re feeling overwhelmed. If you’re feeling sad or hopeless or despairing…particularly if you’re feeling sad or hopeless or despairing…I want you to pay close attention real quick. Because one of the real gifts, I think, of our Lutheran understanding is that we view the Gospel—God’s good news of restoration and wholeness and liberation—as Lutherans, we say that, yes, that good news is for all people, but it is especially for those moments in our lives when we are sad or hopeless or despairing. A Lutheran understanding of the Gospel doesn’t shy away from the hurt and the pain in our world. Quite the opposite, Lutherans acknowledge that hurt and pain and say that God is most especially made known in those moments. Lutherans say those are pretty well universally felt, right? We all have times and seasons in our life where hurt and pain and discomfort and dis-ease and anger and hopelessness are very present and very real. This is simply part of what it means to be human in a very broken world.

But God has something to say in those moments.

God is not indifferent to the suffering of God’s people.

 

What I’m saying is that a very Lutheran understanding of the Gospel says that God’s good news of liberation and restoration and wholeness is most powerfully felt and experienced when we are feeling at our least, when we are feeling hopeless, when we are feeling hurt and broken and shattered.

That’s a real gift, I think.

So if that’s you today, I want you to hear me for the next couple of minutes.

 

Psalm 146

1 Hallelujah! Praise the Ageless One, O my soul! 

2 I will praise the Ever-living God all my life; 

I will sing praises to my God throughout my living 

3 Put not your trust in the great, nor in any child of earth, 

for there is no help in them. 

4 When they breathe their last, they return to earth, 

And in that day their thoughts perish. 

5 Happy are these for whom the God of Rebekah’s line is their help, 

Whose hope is in the Creator of All, their God. 

6 Maker of heaven and earth, the seas, and all that is in them;  

Keeping faith forever. 

7 Bringer of justice to the oppressed, 

Bringer of bread to the hungry;  

The Compassionate God sets the prisoners free. 

8 The All-Seeing God opens the eyes of the blind, 

The Just God lifts up those who are bowed down; 

The Righteous God loves the righteous. 

9 The Mother of All cares for the stranger,

Orphan and widow she bears up,

But the way of the wicked she confounds. 

10 The Majestic One shall reign forever, 

Your God, O Zion, from generation to generation. Hallelujah!

 

Don’t put your trust in people who claim to be great. There is no help for you in them. When they breathe their last, they return to the dust, just like everyone else, and their thoughts and their wickedness and their evil and their attempts to exert power and control all die with them. Happy are those who trust in God, the God of Rebekah, the Creator, the One who laid the foundations of the earth, the One who brings justice to the oppressed and food to those who hunger, who liberates those in captivity, who heals the sick, lifts up the lowly, cares for the immigrant, upholds the vulnerable and marginalized. She disrupts the ways of the evil and wicked ones. She shall reign forever and ever.

Amen. And Alleluia.

 

I’m so thrilled to be using these Psalms for the Summer, these translations from the Reverend Doctor Wil Gafney out of Brite Divinity in Fort Worth. I’m so grateful to Pastor Janelle for suggesting this and for putting these together. And I’m going to try and preach from the Psalms these next few weeks and see how it goes. It’s a bit of a new challenge for me, but one that I kind of also love because I think we have an opportunity to hear some new words in new ways, words we might not have heard before or might not have paid much attention to.

These are part of our story, too.

 

I’m going to steal a line from our Presiding Bishop Elizabeth Eaton, the Presiding Bishop of the ELCA, she preached at our Synod Assembly about 6 weeks ago, she said, “We have a better story.”

The world tells us one thing, the world and the powers that be, very often leave us feeling sad or hopeless or despairing, the world often tells us a story of hurt and pain and divisiveness and wickedness and evil…we have a better story.

Not that those things aren’t true, at some level…but we have a better story.

 

And friends, it is a story that the world needs to hear. There are those who aren’t here this morning who need to hear. There are those you know in your life and in your circles who need to hear. There are those who aren’t here yet…who need to hear.

And friends, you are the ones to tell them. You are the ones sent out. You are the seventy. You are the ones entrusted and called and equipped and sent out to tell this story.

 

It’s interesting that on a weekend when we remember and celebrate the independence of this country, that we hear a gospel story about co-dependence, about being sent out together, about having to rely on one another and to rely on the hospitality of others. Over and over and over again, the Christian narrative is one of reliance and dependence on God, and interdependence on your neighbor and on the stranger. There is no independence in the life of a Christian. Your life is not your own. Your life is claimed by God for God’s purposes, for the sake and for the well-being of your neighbor, the stranger, the outcast, the immigrant, the vulnerable, the have-nots, and those that the world sees as less than…the hurting, the despairing, and the broken.

These are the ones who need to hear this story, and this is the story that you are called to share, dear siblings.

 

And the thing I probably take the most comfort in in all of this is that these 70 didn’t have special training. They got a pep talk from Jesus, but they didn’t have a crash course in Evangelism 101 from Jesus. Jesus called them together, said, “Don’t take anything with you,” and sent them out. That’s it. No special training required. Go out and share your story. All they had was a call, instructions to share peace and show and receive hospitality, and to announce the imminence of the reign of God. That’s it.

 

No special training required, church. I promise you.

You already have everything you need.

Only a willingness to share your story.

To share where God has moved powerfully in your life.

A word about a time when you were hurting or despairing or broken, and someone showed you kindness.

A word about when you felt seen and found by God.

About when God didn’t leave you just like God found you.

A word about when you felt loved back to life by God.

What a story worth sharing.

 

Pentecost 2022

John 14:8-17, 25-27

8 Philip said to Jesus, “Lord, show us God, and we will be satisfied.” 9 Jesus said to Philip, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen God. How can you say, ‘Show us God’? 10 Do you not believe that I am in God and God is in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own; but it is God who dwells in me who does these works. 11 Have faith in me that I am in God and God is in me; but if you do not, then have faith in me because of the works themselves. 12 Very truly, I tell you, the one who trusts in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to God. 13 I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that God may be glorified in the Son. 14 If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.

 15 “If you love me, you will keep my commandments. 16 And I will ask God, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. 17 This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees nor knows that Spirit. You know that Spirit, because that Spirit abides with you, and will be in you.

 25 “I have said these things to you while I am still with you. 26 But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom God will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you. 27 Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”

 

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

Holy Spirit,

Move in this place.

Stir our hearts, rouse us from complacency.

Settle over us with your comfort and peace.

Move in us, again, this morning.

Call us, enlighten us, and move us.

Amen.

 

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I want to start by saying thank you, church. Last week was a difficult week. For all of us. No one wants to see and experience what we collectively went through last week. But if we are to be stirred in our hearts and in our spirits to create meaningful change in our world, we must be honest about the brokenness, hurt, and pain in our world, we must be willing to look at and not look away from that hurt. It is by beholding the wounds of our siblings and honoring their hurt that our own hearts are broken open for the Spirit to do their work in stirring and rousing us to action.

 

So thank you. I know it wasn’t easy, and I pray it never becomes easy for us. But I do hope and pray fervently for the day when sermons like last week’s, and prayers and litanies for victims of gun violence are no longer needed.

 

In the liturgical wisdom of the early church mothers and fathers, the Day of Pentecost comes 10 days after the Feast of the Ascension, 50 days after the celebration of Christ’s resurrection. After Jesus is taken away from the disciples, their instructions are to return to Jerusalem and wait for the arrival of the Holy Spirit, which indeed does arrive as we heard in our readings this morning. This is the beginning of the church movement, the beginning of the ministry instituted by Jesus that begins from Jerusalem and then spreads into Judea and Syria and the surrounding areas, and then through the mission and ministry of the earliest apostles—Peter, Paul, Silas, Tabitha, Thomas, Apollos, Lydia, and so many others—the church spreads beyond that, into modern-day Turkey, Iraq, Egypt, Greece, and even into Italy and Rome. And the Holy Spirit is the driving force of this movement.

 

I’ve found it helpful to try and understand the Holy Spirit as that which moves me, that which propels me, in the work of discipleship that I’ve been called to by God through my baptism.

Once more…for me, I’ve found it helpful to try and understand the Holy Spirit as that which moves me, that which propels me, in the work of discipleship that I’ve been called to by God through my baptism.

The Holy Spirit is an active, moving force. It inspires, it enlightens, it mediates between people. It’s the Holy Spirit that draws God’s people together, and is active in their midst, mediating their conversations and discernment, and ultimately propelling them out into the world to be the people God has called them to be through their baptism.

 

I lament that we don’t have more days celebrating this movement and the activity of this holy troublemaker. Because let’s be honest…the Spirit…she can be a troublemaker…

We set apart this Day of Pentecost with our red paraments—which, it should be noted, are different than our scarlet paraments that we use for Holy Week—and I suppose I’m grateful that, at least in the Lutheran tradition, we also bring out these same red paraments for Reformation Sunday in October, but I lament that we only get 2 Sundays of red paraments because it means I only get 2 Sundays to wear my red stole. And I love my red stole because it was gifted to me at my ordination, as are most pastors’ red stoles, and I would just like to wear it more often. So if the liturgical powers that be would get to work on that, I’d be appreciative.

But it does strike me as highly appropriate to so closely align the Reformation with Pentecost because the Reformation, too, was and is about the movement of the Spirit among communities, the drawing together of God’s people, and the spread of the Gospel message throughout and beyond Germany and Europe. The Reformation was about finding something central and true amidst a wide diversity of expression within the church.

 

Pentecost, too, I think, is about something central, true, and universal in the midst of great diversity. Like we heard in our reading from Acts, the Spirit loves diversity, the Spirit births diversity. Can we see and view and honor that diversity in our faith communities as a gift and something to be celebrated, rather than something to be overcome or argued about, or at worst, glossed over and assimilated?

 

“All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages as the Spirit gave them ability.”

What “other languages” has God given New Hope to speak? Think beyond the wide diversity of spoken languages you’ve heard already heard and will hear this morning. Hasn’t God given New Hope the gifts of language, or the ability to speak the language, from other communities as well—the gay and lesbian community, the trans* community, the queer and questioning community, the LGBTQIA2+ community broadly…(Happy Pride, by the way, beloveds)…communities of color, the African descent community, the Latino community, the South American community, the community of South Asian descent…the neurodivergent community, those in the communities of mental illness, the community of parents, grandparents, the community of parents who struggle with infertility…divorced folks, single folks, the cancer community, the alcoholic community, the recovery community—we have so many gifts, so many different languages that are spoken here, beyond just spoken languages.

 

I think the question of Pentecost is how to honor all of those gifts, how to lift them up and celebrate them. Can we see our giftedness as cause and reason for celebration and excitement and something to be witnessed to and something to invite others to experience?

 

The Spirit of Pentecost is one of witness and testimony and invitation. The Spirit gave the disciples the ability to say something true about God…something true about what they had experienced in the life, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus…gave the disciples a way to speak and witness and testify to that truth in a way that others could hear it and receive it.

 

“We hear all of them in our own languages. We hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.”

What has God done in your life, church? How has God blessed and enriched your life and your family’s life as a result of experiencing the giftedness of New Hope?

 

This same Spirit of truth and love and equality and justice is alive and active and moving in this place. Where do you see the Spirit at work? How will you witness to what you’ve seen and experienced?

 

The Spirit moves and invites you to extend the invitation.

An incredibly overwhelming majority of people visit a church and a community of faith because someone they know, someone the trust, someone they have a relationship with invited them. Even if they’ve already got a worshiping community they’re a part of, most folks will take you up on the invitation to join them. (Especially if you tell them that you’ll take them out for brunch afterward…)

 

The Spirit loves diversity.

The Spirit births diversity.

Your beautifully designed, colorful tapestry, rainbow of diversity is a gift.

To me. To the church.

And to God.

Listen and look for the Spirit, church.

She’s moving. They’re moving. Mightily.

 

The Ascension of Our Lord 2022

Luke 24:44-53

44 [Jesus said,] “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you—that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.” 45 Then Jesus opened the disciples’ minds to understand the scriptures, 46 and said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, 47 and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. 48 You are witnesses of these things. 49 And see, I am sending upon you the Spirit, that God promised; so stay here in the city until you have been clothed with power from on high.”

 50 Then Jesus led them out as far as Bethany, and, lifting up his hands, he blessed them. 51 While he was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into the heavens. 52 And the disciples worshiped Jesus, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy; 53 and they were continually in the temple blessing God.

 

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

Holy and mighty God,

Sometimes our sighs are too deep for words.

Thank you for your Spirit,

Who intercedes on our behalf,

When we are unable to even muster a prayer.

Hold us tightly, God.

Amen.

 

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*sigh*……

I’m so tired, church… So tired…

Aren’t you? In the words of Viola Davis, playing Aibileen Clark in Kathryn Stockett and Tate Taylor’s seminal film The Help, “Ain’t you tired…?”

 

Yes… Bone tired… Down to my soul tired… Worn, weary, crushed…tired…

Aren’t you…?

 

The last time I brought out these candles was 4 years ago, May 20, 2018, Pentecost Sunday that year, after a 17-year-old brought a shotgun to Santa Fe High School and murdered 8 classmates and 2 teachers. And now, just over 4 years later, here we are again, with countless murders, mass shootings and otherwise, in between. Just 2 years after the murder of George Floyd. The massacre in Uvalde happening just 10 days since a horrific racially-motivated, white supremacist rampage in Buffalo took the lives of 10 others. But did you know, church, that in those intervening 10 days, in the 10 days in between Buffalo and Uvalde that 15 other mass shootings occurred in this country, according to gunviolencearchive.org…? 15…!

 

Ain’t you tired…?

Hell yes, I am! I ran out of candles! I ran out of places to put them! That’s obscene!

 

The prayers that we used at the beginning of worship come from a Prayer of Lament for Gun Violence from our newest worship resource from our denomination, the ELCA, called All Creation Sings. Hear that again…there’s a litany of prayers, in a denominational resource, the largest Lutheran denomination and one of the largest Christian denominations in the United States, there’s a litany of prayers for victims of gun violence! Please let that sink in! That is obscene!

 

How are we ok with this?

Every single time we want to say, “This is just not who we are.” when I am very sorry to tell you, church, it very clearly is. It is exactly who we are. It may not be who we want to be, or who we hope to be, but I’m devastated to tell you that it is exactly who we are.

We have accepted it.

 

Because if it wasn’t who we are, if we hadn’t accepted this, we would do something to change it.

 

But we don’t. So we offer “thoughts and prayers” and we ask questions to the wind and to no one in particular like “How could this happen again?” and in less than a week something new will overtake our news feeds and we’ll move on just like we have for over 20 years since Columbine High School.

 

But there are those who can’t move on. There are those who are too close to these endless tragedies that can’t simply move past it. We must be aware that every single one of these instances leaves a devastating wake of communities, neighborhoods, schools, families, and people.

Every single one of these massacres leaves a wake of destruction.

 

I ran out of candles to tell you about Ms. Katherine Massey, 72, who was a civil rights activist who called for stricter gun laws in Buffalo.

I ran out of candles to tell you about Andre Mackniel, 53, who was at the grocery store picking up a birthday cake for his 3-year-old son…who wouldn’t make it home for his son’s birthday party.

I ran out of candles to tell you about Ms. Ruth Whitfield, 86, who lived in Buffalo for more than 50 years and loved to sing in her church’s choir.

To tell you about Roberta Drury, 32, who was a caretaker for her brother and was buying groceries for them.

About Eva Mireles, 44, who taught in Uvalde schools for 17 years and used her body to try and protect her students.

About Irma Garcia, 46, who taught at Robb Elementary for 23 years, co-taught with Ms. Eva for 5 years, and whose husband of 24 years, Joe, died of a severe heart attack just 2 days later. They had 4 children.

Xavier Lopez, 10, who had just found out he made the honor roll.

Amerie Jo Garcia, 10, who just celebrated her birthday and gotten a phone she wanted, and tried to use that phone to call for help.

Lexi Rubio, 10, who made the All-A Honor Roll and received a good citizen award.

Tess Marie Mata, 10, who had been saving her money for Disney World and who loved doing TikTok dances.

 

Babies… Educators… Mamas… Daddies… Grandparents… Hermanos… Hermanas… Primos y primas…

 

Ain’t you tired, church…?

 

Of course you are. We all are.

 

It’s not part of the lectionary readings for today, but they are some of the most potent words in Scripture, from the prophet Amos, chapter 5: “Thus says the Lord, I hate—I despise—your festivals. Your worship is worthless. Even though you bring me offerings, I reject them. I refuse to listen to your songs and music. But let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.”

God desires oceans of justice and raging rivers of righteousness. And the best we can do is offer thoughts and prayers?!

 

We can and should be sad. We can and should lament. Sorrow is holy.

But we must not remain in despair. We cannot stay in our sorrow. Because if we remain in that despairing place, we are incapacitated to do the work to which we are called. Pray and then act. This is the work to which you are called: the holy work of healing, of binding up the wounds of the broken, of repairing that which has been torn, and delivering love and mercy to those most in need of it. God desires justice. God desires righteousness. God desires so much more than thoughts and prayers.

 

The Sunday of the Feast of the Ascension is the time in the church that we commemorate Jesus leaving the disciples. The day always happens 40 days after Easter. And for those who are paying attention, 40 is an important number, biblically speaking. 40 days of rain and flood. 40 days in the desert being tempted by the Accuser. 40 years journeying in the desert, traveling from slavery toward freedom. 40 is a good, long time. 40 is the amount of time it takes, biblically, to arrive at the moment you throw your hands up and cry, “Enough!” 40 is the time it takes to be done.

Ain’t you tired, church…? Haven’t you had enough? Of course you are. Of course you have.

 

In some ways, Jesus has had enough, too. He’s spent time with the disciples, he’s taught them things again that he’d already taught them. He’s been with them, but now it is time for Jesus to go. Because if Jesus doesn’t go the book of Acts doesn’t happen. Acts is a continuation of the Gospel of Luke, written by the same person or group of people, and there’s a reason it is called the Acts of the Apostles. This is the disciples getting on with the work—with the acts—of being the church. And if Jesus doesn’t go, they, and we, might be tempted to cling tightly to what we know, stay where we think it’s safe, and not get on with the work and the acts of being the church.

Jesus is tired… But if Jesus doesn’t go, the church doesn’t spread. If Jesus doesn’t go, the work of the church can’t begin.

 

“You Galileans, why do you stand looking up toward heaven?”

Church, why do we stand looking up toward heaven? What exactly are we waiting around for? Are we waiting for someone else? Waiting for Jesus to come back triumphantly in the same way in which he was taken?

 

Church, I have good news and bad news… The bad news is that Jesus isn’t coming back in the same way in which he ascended. The bad news is that no one else is coming to bail us out of this mess. The bad news…is that you are the ones God has called in this time and in this place to do the work of mending this horribly broken world. The good news…is that you are the ones that God has called in this time and in this place to do the work of mending this horribly broken world.

And the good news…is that you do not do this work on your own.

 

God has given you the Holy Spirit. You have been clothed with power. And God has given you one another. You do not do this work on your own. But you are called to do this work.

There is no one else. You are the ones.

 

Why do you stand looking up toward heaven? Look out. Look at your neighbor. Look at the kids across the street. Look at the people in your cul-de-sac. Look at the people in line at the grocery store with you. Look at the babies out at the restaurant with you. These are who you are called to, church.

Justice. Righteousness.

Our legislators will not save us. The people that we elected to represent us and make and pass laws to protect us and our babies have abdicated their responsibility. This is on us.

 

I’m so so sorry to tell you that help is not coming. But we do have what we need for this fight.

We do have the good news of God’s vision for the world, God’s hopes and dreams of a restored and whole and well earth. You have been given the Holy Spirit. You have been clothed with power.

And we have each other.

 

Of course you’re tired. I am, too.

Rest when you need to rest.

But do not stay at rest.

 

This fight is a holy and righteous one and the forces that would seek to deny life to God’s people can not stand against you when we stand shoulder to shoulder.

You have been blessed. You have been called.

You have been strengthened and nourished.

You have been blessed.

You have been anointed for this fight.

 

And you will prevail.

You will be victorious.

We must win. We must.

 

And we will.

 

We will because our kids are begging us to.

We will because our babies demand that we do.

We will because this is the promise of the resurrection. That death does not win. Death does not get the last word. God has promised life and life abundant, and you are the vessels and the messengers through which God is working and redeeming the world.

This is the work of the church.

Rejoice, people of God.

This is the work to which God has called you.

This is the work for which you have been clothed with power and blessed and anointed

Go and do likewise.

 

If you’re wondering where to start, if you look at all that’s happening and think, “There’s just no way I can effect any meaningful change.” I invite you to start with a prayer. Pray and beseech God that God would break open your heart and cause your heart to break for that which breaks God’s heart. Pray that God would give you the same eyes of love, tenderness, and compassion with which God looks upon the world. And then I invite you to start. Start somewhere. Start small. But start.

As a bit of Rabbinical wisdom goes, “Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief. Do justly, now. Love mercy, now. Walk humbly, now. You are not obligated to complete the work. But neither are you free to abandon it.” Or a Mother Teresa reminds us, “Not everyone can do great things, but we can do small things with great love.”

Start. Somewhere.

 

If you can find one hour a week in your schedule, I’d love to introduce you to some of our friends at Armstrong. Reading buddies, mentors, teachers’ aides… Young people having positive influences in their lives is the single biggest influencing factor in them being successful in their education and not growing up resorting to violence to solve their problems. That’s not made up, that’s research-backed.

Look, this is convicting for me, too. I haven’t made the time this year to volunteer. Will you join me? Will you commit with me to signing up to volunteer just one hour a week next year as a Reading Buddy or a Mentor at Armstrong? And will you hold me accountable?

 

We can effect change in our world, church.

We can and we will because we must.

Be of good courage, people of God. Do not be frozen in place by this enormous task.

Pray, and then act.

The crucified, risen, and ascended Christ has empowered, blessed, and anointed you for this work, and joins you in this fight.

Death does not get the last word, praise God.

Take heart. Hold fast to faith.

This is the hope to which you have been called.

God’s resurrection promise for a weary and downtrodden world.

Alleluia.

Amen.

 

Fifth Sunday of Easter 2022

John 13:31-35

31 When Judas had gone out from the room, Jesus said, “Now the Son of humanity has been glorified, and God has been glorified in the Son. 32 If God has been glorified in the Son, God will also glorify the Son in God’s own self and will glorify the Son at once. 33 Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jewish believers so now I say to you, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come.’ 34 I give you a new commandment so that you love one another. As I have loved you in order that you also love one another. 35 By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

 

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

God of love,

Love us back to life again this morning.

Call us again and lead us by your example.

Show us the breadth and depth of your love.

Give us courage to live out that love

In our lives and in our world.

Amen.

 

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It’s been a tough few weeks at the Michaelis house. Well, honestly, it’s been a tough few months, but it all kind of runs together, and eh, who’s really counting and keeping score, right?

One of the, shall we say, “blessings” of having a pandemic child, or at least a child who’s lived more of their life within than out of a global pandemic, is that the germs and stuff around your house largely don’t change. So when they start going to preschool and interacting with other kids and other houses’ germs…well…it does a number on their immune system. Throw in an oppressively bad spring allergy season, and the conditions are ripe for a sickness that just won’t end.

 

And when the 2-, almost 3-, year old isn’t happy…ain’t no one happy.

 

Now, full credit to my spouse who is apparently the only one who can do literally anything that the toddler will approve of…but, as I said, ain’t no one happy right now at our house.

Such is life, for this season.

 

It reminds me of something that I heard from a good friend and mentor that I usually fit in somewhere to most wedding sermons I’ve done: “Marriage isn’t something you do when you’re in love; marriage is what keeps you together until you fall in love again.”

In times of particular strife in our household, usually onset by a severe lack of sleep, when I find myself having less than charitable thoughts and being less than kind toward my spouse and our kid, I need to be reminded of the promises we made to each other, and the promises I made to her, that help sort of bring me back to a centered place, a place where my emotions and feelings and knee-jerk reactions and flat-out jerk reactions can level out, and I can remember that even in the “worse” parts of “for better or worse”, my commitment to those promises and this person has to be greater than my very strong desire for a couple more hours of sleep.

Although honestly, the two can run fairly close to each other, you know?

 

I say all this because in our gospel this morning, Jesus has some very particular words to say about love. And marriage is one of, though by no means, the only, place where love gets lived out in relationship.

 

Remember that we just heard these words from Jesus about a month ago on Maundy Thursday. Just before our gospel reading today picks up, Jesus gets up from dinner, ties a towel around his waist, and washes his disciples’ feet. A humbling act of love and tenderness and service, when a teacher and Rabbi and master submits themselves to their students and servants and friends.

 

Now, a couple of weeks ago, when Peter and some other disciples were fishing, and Jesus was cooking brunch on the beach, and Jesus asks Peter three times if Peter loves him…you remember this? I mentioned in that sermon to ask me some time about the differences in the words Jesus uses for love and the word Peter uses for love. Because, I said, that sermon was not about this, but this one kind of is, so permit me to get a little nerdy on you for a second.

Back a couple of weeks ago, after brunch, Jesus asks Peter, “Do you have agape love for me?” And Peter responds to Jesus, “Yes Lord, you know I have philia love for you.” Jesus says, “Feed my lambs.” A second time, Jesus says to Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you have agape love for me?” Peter responds, “Yeah Lord, you know I’ve got philia love for you.” Jesus says, “Tend my sheep.” A third time, Jesus asks Peter, “Peter, son of John, do you even have philia love for me?” And Peter, now quite upset since Jesus asked him a third time, “Do you love me?” responds, “Lord, you know…everything…you know I have…philia love for you…?” Jesus says to Peter, “Feed my sheep.”

 

On the surface, and certainly in English translations, this doesn’t sound like much of an encounter. As I said 2 weeks ago, I think the author of John is using poetic devices to have Peter respond to Jesus’ questions 3 times to mirror or account for the 3 times that Peter denies Jesus in the courtyard of the high priest on the night of Jesus’ betrayal. But the differences in the words used for “love” is important here.

See, the Greeks had 4 different words that they used, all to describe love. C.S. Lewis has a pretty good treatment of all of these in his book The Four Loves. It’s not perfect, but it’s pretty good. The 4 types of Greek love are storge, eros, philia, and agape. There’s not so much a hierarchy as it is they all describe different aspects of love. The exception to this would be agape which is seen as kind of the highest form of love, certainly and especially for Christians.

Storge is empathy. It’s the kind of love between family members and friends and neighbors. It’s a form of love that comes more naturally for us; it’s affection, but it’s pitfall, as Lewis saw it, is that people come to expect it irrespective of their behavior and its natural consequences.

Eros is romantic love. You could have guessed that. It’s where we get our word “erotic.” It’s passion, sometimes sexual in nature, but it can be blinding, making us act in ways that would otherwise be very out of character for us.

Philia is strong friend love, brotherly/sisterly/sibling-type love—philia actually means “brother” or “sibling” in Greek. This is probably the least natural type of love for us because it’s not instinctive—you choose your close friends. Philia was very well known and prized in the ancient world, and Lewis saw it as all but being forgotten in our modern times.

Agape, as you might know, is God love. Perfect love. It’s completely unconditional. It’s selfless. Completely. The Greeks and Lewis largely saw it as unattainable by humans.

 

Jesus asks Peter if Peter has agape love for him. Peter responds with, “Of course, Lord, you know I have philia love for you.”

For whatever reason, Peter couldn’t get all the way to where Jesus was in this expression of love.

 

I think we, like Peter, aspire to our Lord’s example and hope of embodying agape love in our lives…but imperfect beings that we are, we seem to always come up short of the mark.

 

In my best ideals about myself, I want to believe that the love I have for even my sick kid who upsets me when I just want to sleep or my spouse who gets annoyed when she, too, just wants to sleep is unconditional. I aspire for it to be, I want it to be. I don’t know that it is always.

 

Because the thing about agape love is that it is sacrificial.

There’s another line I include in almost every wedding sermon, and I said it in my sermon on Maundy Thursday when we last heard these verses from John, and that is “Love costs you something.” Love requires you to give something up. In my wedding sermons, I go on, “Love will cost you the need to always be right, and to win every argument. Love requires give and take and compromise. Love requires giving up your life for the sake of this new collective life.

Love will cost you not having the last say every time. It will cost you swallowing your pride and saying you’re sorry, unqualified and unasked for. Love will cost you the vindication of pulling all the blankets onto yourself because you’re so mad at the person that you think they shouldn’t get the blankets.

Love requires laying down your life.

Laying down the need to be right all the time. Laying down the need for the last word.

Laying down the need for vindication.

Love is costly.”

 

This is the kind of love that Jesus models for the disciples and the love Jesus asks his disciples to embody in the world.

“By this will the world know that you are my disciples, if you have agape love for one another, for your neighbor, for the world.”

 

Agape is sacrificial. It always seeks the absolute best for the one being loved, expecting and asking for nothing in return. It is completely turned outward. Agape is giving up of yourself. It is self-emptying—in Greek what is known as kenosis—literally, “being poured out.” Like water into a basin for washing feet. Like blood and water streaming out of a pierced and wounded side on the cross.

Emptying yourself for the sake of others and for the sake of the world.

 

Last week we talked about the love God has for you, how you are known and loved and named by God. And church, if God has such love for you, what kind of responsibility—what’s the call on your life—to embody that love in your relationships with others?

 

Church, what if we were a community that was defined and known by how well we cared for each other and our neighbors? What if our defining characteristic wasn’t our worship or our Sunday School or how many people call themselves members, but in a survey that asked “How well do you find yourself cared for, how well do you find your wounds tended and bandaged, how well do you find your joys celebrated and your sorrows held and prayed for at New Hope Lutheran Church?”…what if in that survey we could say that 100% of the people said 10 out of 10, I feel that I’m exceptionally well-cared for, and I feel like the people I worship with and share my life with are deeply invested in my life, and I in theirs.

What if we were a community of faith that our neighbors could say that about, as well? How many of our neighbors, church, do you think know how well we can love or how fervently we can show up in a time of need? Can you just imagine? Can you even imagine how much of an impact that would have, not just on you, not just on the people here…but the kind of impact it would make in a community and world that is desperate for good news?

 

May is Mental Health Awareness Month, and church, in so many of the conversations I’ve had with parishioners over the past couple of weeks, I need you to know that there are a lot of folks who aren’t ok. I also need you to hear me say that if you’re one of those folks if you’re someone who’s not feeling ok right now, that it is absolutely ok to not be ok. Your struggle matters. I am here during this time, God is here during this time, and I think and I believe that this church is here during this time. And if you need something, I am someone you can come to and I can try and get you connected with folks in my network who can help. But church, you need to know that a good number of people aren’t ok, they’re really struggling with any number of things. And overwhelmingly, it’s our young folks who are struggling. That might not be where you are. Things might be just fine in your life, but please hear me say that for a good number of our young folks, they’re really and truly struggling.

 

What could it mean for you to reach out? How could you give of yourself to extend a hand and invite them to coffee or lunch and let them share their life with you? How can you reach out in love and empty yourself for the sake of someone who just needs to know there’s a community of faith that cares deeply about them and truly loves them?

 

What if we were a community of faith that truly loved?

 

By this will the world know that you are followers of Jesus.

If you have self-giving, self-emptying, sacrificial love for each other.

For your friends.

For your neighbors.

For strangers.

And for the world.

 

Fourth Sunday of Easter 2022

John 10:22-30

22 At that time the festival of the Dedication took place in Jerusalem. It was winter, 23 and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the portico of Solomon. 24 So the Judeans gathered around Jesus and said to him, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, if you are the Christ, tell us plainly.” 25 Jesus answered, “I have told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in God’s name testify to me; 26 but you do not trust, because you do not belong to my sheep.

27 My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. 28 I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand. 29 What God has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of God’s hand. 30 God and I are one.”

 

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

Mothering God,

Hold us. Reassure us.

In the midst of so much in our world,

Remind us that we are yours.

That we are known.

That we are loved.

Amen.

 

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One of my favorite and tried-and-true ways of clearing my head and doing a good amount of thinking is to go for a drive. Actually, before Oliver was born that’s how I would start my sermon writing process—pull through Starbucks, get the big coffee, and drive while thinking about the scripture lessons and what I might preach about. If I get super-stuck, I’ll still pull that trick out, but my schedule’s much different now and I don’t have the same time in the same way that I had before. All good, all things change.

That, and with the price of gas these days…sheesh…it would be a very expensive part of my process.

 

But the thing about driving for clarity and thinking is that if you’re trying to work something out in your mind, you can’t be super-worried about where you’re going. You either need to be willing to find your way back with a map, or you need to be on a road or a route with not a lot of variation. Too many twists and turns and you’re defeating the purpose. It can’t be too complicated.

And although it’s no longer part of my regular sermon writing process, I still do enjoy a good drive. It’s uncomplicated. I find it’s easy. And I don’t have to be so sure of the end result before I set off.

But again…gas prices, you know…

 

I’d be willing to venture a guess that you, too, could use a little less complication in your life. Am I right? A little bit easier. A little bit more clear and certain. Yeah?

 

“How long will you keep us in suspense? Are you the Messiah, the Christ? Are you the real deal? Tell us plainly.”

Make it clear. Make it uncomplicated for us. Tell us.

 

The Jewish believers in Jerusalem want certainty. They want what Thomas wanted from Jesus (…if we had heard about Thomas on the Sunday after Easter instead of me changing it the Road to Emmaus…) These people want from Jesus what I feel like most of us all want from Jesus. Certainty.

Tell me, Jesus. Tell me who you are. Reassure me that you are who people say you are.

Tell me, show me, that you really can do the things that people say you can, because truthfully, Jesus…things are starting to feel like they’re getting a little messed up around here, and I really need to know that you can do the whole saving and healing thing. I don’t know if faith is enough to sustain me in this current storm, so I’m gonna need you to do the thing everyone seems to believe you can do…I’m gonna need you to do some fixing…

 

Certainty.

We crave it.

 

Former Senior Pastor of Riverside Church in New York City, of blessed memory, the Reverend William Sloane Coffin said, “All of us tend to hold certainty dearer than truth.”

Wow…even if it’s not true, we’ll still believe it as long as someone tells us we can be sure about it. This is how we start taking investing and medical advice from facebook, by the way.

 

So how do we work it all out? How do we work out what’s true, what we can be certain about? What can make things a little less complicated than they are?

 

“I’ve told you, and you don’t believe,” Jesus tells the Judeans who are pressing him. “The things that I do in God’s name testify to me and testify to God…If you’ve seen me, you’ve seen God.”

In other words, Jesus says, see my body of work. See what I’ve done. Refer back to the blind beggar whose sight was restored. Refer back to the wedding at Cana when abundance was served up for the celebration. Healing. Wholeness. 5,000 people fed on a side of a mountain from 5 loaves and 2 fish, and oh, by the way, there were bushels of leftovers. Religious, gender, ethnic, social, and societal boundaries crossed and expanded at a well in Samaria.

Over and over and over again, Jesus shows us a God of abundance, of extravagance, of healing and wellness, of wholeness. Over and over and over again Jesus shows us God in the flesh, and yet we struggle to believe and trust in it because it flies in the face of everything the world tells you is the way things are supposed to work—scarcity, sickness, illness, dis-ease, conflict, war, outrage…

When we desire certainty, God refers us back to the times and moments in our lives that God healed or provided wellness or wholeness or lavished us with abundance.

God’s desire is always for life. Always, always for life, and life abundant.

It is God’s desire, and it is God’s promise.

It’s not complicated, it’s just difficult to trust.

 

I love that we have a baptism this morning because I don’t think there’s any clearer example of trust and faith in the face of so much uncertainty. There’s so much we don’t know about what our lives hold and what the world will be like. But for just a brief moment, God reaches into our world…heaven and earth touch…and in the simple, uncomplicated ritual of water running over her head, Ellie will hear the voice of God whispering in her ear, “My dear, sweet child…you are mine.”

And with any luck, church, you will have heard it, too.

 

The simple, clear, uncomplicated truth…that you are God’s. That God delights in you. That God desires life for you. That there is nothing in all of creation that can take you from God’s hand.

Because you, dear, sweet sheep, are known. You are known, and loved, and claimed, and named by God. You…are God’s.

 

You, Ellie, are God’s beloved. You, Augie, are God’s beloved.

You, Andy…you, Ashley…you, Joanne…you, Buddy…you, Dwight…you, Julie, Andrew, Danny, Jessica, Judy, Suzanne, Piper, Tim, Janelle, Brad, Karen, John, Beth, Abby, Mike, Wanda, Linda, Cheryl, Kim, Diane…mothers, motherly figures, stepmoms, grandmothers, dads, single parents, divorced parents, aunts, uncles, cousins…you with no kids, you who don’t want children, you who want children but struggle with infertility…you, who struggle…you…are God’s beloved.

Mother’s Day can be a complicated day, but this truth is not.

 

You are loved. So much. So deeply.

Please, hear me say that.

Amidst so much else going on, hear this…know this…you are known by God. You are loved by God. So much.

That’s true. That’s certain.

 

Third Sunday of Easter 2022

John 21:1-19

1 Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he showed himself in this way. 2 Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his disciples. 3 Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We will go with you.” They went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing.

 4 Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. 5 Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They answered him, “No.” 6 He said to them, “Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. 7 That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. 8 But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, only about a hundred yards off.

 9 When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. 10 Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” 11 So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them; and though there were so many, the net was not torn. 12 Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, “Who are you?” because they knew it was the Lord. 13 Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. 14 This was now the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.

 15 When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” Simon Peter said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” 16 A second time Jesus said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” 17 Jesus said to him the third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” And he said to Jesus, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep. 18 Very truly, I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.” 19 (Jesus said this to indicate the kind of death by which Peter would glorify God.) After this Jesus said to him, “Follow me.”

 

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

Risen and living God,

When we find our ways frustrated,

call us to try a new way.

When our spirits are dried up and weary,

fill us with good things.

Call us again this morning.

Remind us of your call on our lives.

Amen.

 

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I spent this past week down in Rockport, taking a little break with my family, enjoying some time off and trying to rest a little bit. The beach is just one place that we enjoy for some time away. But especially after the lengthy pilgrimage through Lent and the marathon of Holy Week and Easter, some time to fill myself back up and spending some quality uninterrupted time with my people is needed.

 

One of my colleagues recently quipped, “Why is it that when we talk about God’s desire or God’s call or our call as disciples that it’s always that God wants us to ‘do’ something? Why is no one telling me that God might want me to rest?”

 

I’ve been reflecting on that this week, thinking about where I am, where we are as a community of faith, and where God might be calling us next. And while there’s certainly work to be done, there has to be an appropriate rhythm between production and rest. Amen? You’ve probably heard it popularly expressed something like, you can’t pour into others from an empty cup. Church, how are you filling yourself up so that you can be for others what they need?

 

“Come, have breakfast,” Jesus says.

 

My man…

I’m a sucker for breakfast.

 

The post-resurrection gospels are some of my favorites, and especially after I switched up our gospel reading last week, I feel like we’re getting some of what I personally feel are the greatest hits this year. Road to Emmaus last week, and brunch on the beach this week, plus we always get Good Shepherd Sunday on Easter 4 next week. It’s all really good stuff. I love them because post-resurrection Jesus doesn’t seem to take himself too seriously. Last week, I imagined Jesus sort of playing along with the disciples’ disbelieving as they were on the way to Emmaus—“Are you the only one who hasn’t heard…?” “No! What things?!” To a totally chill and relaxed vibe this morning—lounging on the beach, grilling some fish, eating some brunch, “Come and have some breakfast…”

Yeah, Jesus…this is totally my speed.

 

Contrary to what I feel like we’ve all been taught and the stew in which we’re all swimming, we can’t “go-go-go” 100% of the time. You are so much more than your output, dear people. We must have a balance between our doing and our resting.

Even fields need seasons to be fallow if they hope to produce good and abundant harvests well into the future. Did you know that if you only tried to grow things in a field all of the time, the crop would use up all of the nutrients in the soil and eventually the crops would dry up and wither away? Giving fields seasons to rest allows the soil to replenish nutrients that are drawn away by the crops and allows those fields to continue feeding their harvest for years and years and years.

Are you with me? Rest is necessary. In fact, it’s commanded. I think we forget that.

 

Tricia Hersey, known as the Nap Bishop, founded the Nap Ministry in 2016. She advocates rest as resistance. Amidst all the hustle and grind culture, and the pervasive attitudes of “go-go-go”, packed schedules, and calendars calibrated to the quarter-hour, the idea of slowing down is a revolutionary and counter-cultural one. She says, “As a Black woman in America, rest is a tool for liberation and healing…It’s about more than naps. It’s not about fluffy pillows, expensive sheets, silk sleep masks, or any other external, frivolous, consumerist gimmick. It is about a deep unraveling from violent and evil systems. Rest pushes back and disrupts a system that views human bodies as a tool for production and labor. It is a counter narrative. We know that we are not machines. We are divine.” Think about it, church, when was the last time someone told you to take a break? Not as something you earn, but as something you are inherently worthy of. Rest as righteous and holy protest against the powers and principalities, the empires that constantly tell you you are nothing more than your production.

Opt out of the rat race, dear children. Because this is not a race and you are not rats.

You are divine. Even God rested. Not as reward, but because it is necessary.

 

There is a rhythm to rest and production. Just as we can’t go-go-go 100% of the time, neither are we free to sit back on our laurels and do nothing at all all the time. The poet in Ecclesiastes reminds us, “To everything there is a season.” Just as the season of Lent journeys us toward the cross, and with purpose, the season of Easter journeys us to Ascension Sunday and Pentecost, the birth of the church, when the Holy Spirit moves mightily and propels us out from the doors we lock ourselves behind. The mission continues, the work goes on, the call to discipleship that God has placed on your life moves forward.

 

And the call, mission, and ministry is what it always has been: love the people. Love them.

As easy…and as difficult…as that.

 

Lord knows it isn’t always easy. But when we find our way or our path frustrated, perhaps God is calling us to try a new way. Like the disciples who had fished all night, Jesus told them to simply try the other side of the boat, and they found what you’ve heard from this pulpit countless times, that God is a God of abundance. What new direction is God calling you this morning? What new direction is God calling New Hope? We just have to be attentive and responsive to God’s call.

 

Paul receives this call on his way to Damascus…turned from zealous persecutor to prolific disciple. Peter gets this call from Jesus on the beach. Three times Jesus presses Peter. Peter is essentially given the opportunity to undo what he had done just a week before, and the author of John is being extremely poetic in doing so. After Jesus’ arrest in the garden, Peter and another disciple go with Jesus to the courtyard of the high priest. Peter finds himself beside a charcoal fire, denying Jesus three times. This morning, on the beach, Peter once again finds himself beside a charcoal fire, and Jesus asking him three times, “Do you love me?”

A three-fold denial…a three-fold affirmation of love.

These questions are much more for Peter’s sake than Jesus’. Peter finds himself in the abundance of God’s mercy and compassion.

 

I won’t spend time this morning with the Greek words, because that’s not what this sermon is about, but ask me sometime about the words Jesus uses for love and the words Peter responds with. It’s a fascinating study. But suffice it to say, the call on your life, dear disciple, is to love. To feed lambs, to tend sheep, to feed sheep.

Your call is to love.

 

A lot of times that call will find you standing alongside the oppressed and the vulnerable, advocating for fair systems, and taking on the many injustices in the world. That will always be true.

Sometimes loving others will find you taking some moments to restore yourself, to renew your own spirit. Because you can’t pour into others from an empty cup.

 

Make time and find opportunities to rest and restore, church.

Take moments to fill yourself up so you can be for others what they need.

Come. Have brunch.

Come. Be nourished at God’s table of grace.

Take delight and rest in God’s abundance for you, dear child.

Receive God’s love for you, that you would be God’s love for the world.

 

Second Sunday of Easter 2022

Luke 24:13-35

13 Now on that same day when Jesus had appeared to Mary Magdalene, two of the disciples were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, 14 and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. 15 While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, 16 but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. 17 And Jesus said to them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” They stood still, looking sad. 18 Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?” 19 Jesus asked them, “What things?” They replied, “The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, 20 and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. 21 But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. 22 Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning,

23 and when they did not find our Rabbi’s body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. 24 Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see our Teacher.” 25 Then Jesus said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! 26 Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and then enter into God’s glory?” 27 Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, Jesus interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.

 28 As they came near the village to which they were going, Jesus walked ahead as if he were going on. 29 But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So Jesus went in to stay with them. 30 When Jesus was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. 31 Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and Jesus vanished from their sight. 32 They said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” 33 That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. 34 These were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” 35 Then the two disciples told what had happened to them on the road, and how Jesus had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

 

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

Risen and living God,

Make yourself known to us this morning.

Break through our clouds of doubt and disappointment.

Walk alongside us. Teach us.

Show us yourself.

And help us extend your love and care to our world.

Amen.

 

———————-

 

Ah…the post-Easter let-down… Well, less of a let-down, and more of a post-Easter return to earth.

“They stood still…looking sad…’Are you the only one who doesn’t know the things that have taken place…? Yes, but we had hoped he would be the one to redeem Israel…’”

Looking sad… We had hoped…

What happened to everyone? Where’d they all go? Didn’t they see?

 

The week after Easter is always, always, always a return to earth. Sometimes it’s an overcorrection the complete opposite way. Especially after Easter is such a high point, the Second Sunday after Easter can leave a little bit to be desired. Like you’ve gone from the mountaintop to the valley in just 7 days.

But here’s what’s important, church, you didn’t do anything. The folks that were here last week aren’t all here this week because you did something wrong…this is just the way of things.

 

So, first of all, I need to say thank you to all of you who brought your families last week. We kind of exist on a 2-year rotation here at New Hope. On one year for Easter, it seems, you all invite your families and everyone comes here for Easter Sunday. And then the next year, y’all all go somewhere else. But this year, it was New Hope’s turn. And especially as we’re trying to emerge from a very long pandemic, it was really wonderful for this year to be our year. So thank you all who invited your families to worship with you. It was so lovely to see all of them. And please tell them that we’re greatly looking forward to seeing them again in a couple of years.

 

The second thing, though, is that some did come back this week. Hey y’all! Great to see you again. We didn’t bring the brass this time, but we’ve got a great morning of worship regardless.

 

One of our members caught my arm on my way up or down the aisle last week, I don’t remember which way I was going, and they leaned in and said, “Don’t they know that every Sunday is resurrection Sunday?!”

“I wish they did,” I replied. “I wish they did know.”

 

Because they’re right…every Sunday is resurrection Sunday. Every Sunday is a celebration of Christ’s resurrection…Christ’s victory over sin, death, and all that separates us from God. Every Sunday is a resurrection celebration.

But I think we, on this side of the Resurrection, can get caught up in the numbers game. And how many people came to Easter worship. And how many people were here to see how great and wonderful New Hope is. And how many of them come back the next week. And “My, isn’t it great to see so many people again. It feels a lot like it used to.”

And so this return to earth leaves us feeling a bit disappointed.

 

But didn’t they see? Didn’t they see and experience how wonderful it all is and how great it all could be with them here?

 

Yes, church. They did. They did see and experience. And some did come back to see again. And some didn’t. But the ones that did are here to see if you really are who you say you are. Are you the same congregation on the Second Sunday of Easter as you are on Easter Sunday?

How does it go…? Something like, “If you don’t like me at my Easter 2, you don’t deserve me at my Sunday of Easter.”?

 

Joking aside, the story of the walk to Emmaus is such a wonderful story to me because it reminds me that the post-resurrection experience has always been tinged with a bit of disappointment.

They stood still…looking sad… We had hoped…

 

And the road to Emmaus reminds me that in the midst of that disappointment, Jesus doesn’t peace out. Jesus doesn’t chastise these 2 disciples for being disappointed, and for being “wah-wah’s”, Jesus walks with them, talks with them. Jesus gives them space to name their hurt, to name their disappointment, to name their unmet expectations. And Jesus doesn’t disregard it. Jesus doesn’t tell them to smile more, or to just be happy, or tell them they’re being unreasonable. Jesus gives them space to feel what they feel.

But then Jesus teaches. He opens the Scriptures to them, telling them things about himself, beginning with Moses and all the prophets. And Jesus walks with them. Through this valley in which they find themselves.

Jesus comes alongside their hurt and disappointment and doesn’t excuse it or brush it away. Jesus walks with them and stays with them. And then Jesus eats with them.

 

“And immediately their eyes were opened and they recognized Jesus and he disappeared from their sight.”

And then the veil falls away. “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking with us on the way, while he was opening the scriptures to us?”

 

Every Sunday is Resurrection Sunday. Every Sunday we come together to hear and learn scripture together. Every Sunday we dialogue and converse with one another about our hopes and our dreams for the world, and how we can more fully live into God’s vision for our world. Every Sunday we bring our fears and disappointments and hurt and pain, and we hold them together, bearing one another’s burdens and lifting one another up. Walking with one another through life’s valleys. Because as much as we would love for all of life to be lived on those mountaintop experiences, you and I both know that valleys come. You and I both know the majority of life is lived somewhere in between those mountaintops and valleys. This is why we need the regular rhythm of worship. This is why we need the regular rhythm of the Eucharist. Every Sunday we come together and share a meal…a meal of grace and compassion and love…a meal that is nourishing and sustaining…a meal that is for you.

Every Sunday, I hope, if even for just a moment, I hope you encounter Jesus. Through Word. Through water. Through a meal. Through the body of Christ. Through one another. Through the hands and feet and heart of Christ, that as members of the one body, we are given to and for one another.

 

The post-Easter Gospel stories are all about seeing and encountering the risen Christ, and the places of our deep need where God meets us.

Where do you see Jesus, church?

Where has God met you?

Where are the places where your heart is burning?

 

And where can you come alongside others?

Where do you see hurt and doubt and disappointment?

Where do you see opportunities to be the hands and feet and heart of Christ to a world, a stranger, a neighbor in need?

 

The return to earth can be a little bit disappointing.

But it’s in coming back down to the ground that the work of ministry happens.

Walking alongside, talking, sharing, teaching, discussing, eating.

This is the work of ministry to which God is calling you.

And the risen Christ walks with you.

 

Easter 2022

Luke 24:1-12

1 But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, the women came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. 2 They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 3 but when they went in, they did not find the body. 4 While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. 5 The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.

6 Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, 7 that the Son-of-Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” 8 Then they remembered his words, 9 and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. 10 Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles. 11 But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them.

12 But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.

 

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Alleluia! Christ is risen!

Christ is risen, indeed! Alleluia!

 

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Please pray with me this morning, church:

Holy God,

Resurrection has arrived!

Thank you. For promising new life.

Thank you for resurrection hope.

Call us out of our tombs, this morning.

Take us by the hand and raise us to life with you.

Amen.

 

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Alleluia! Christ is risen!

Christ is risen, indeed! Alleluia!

 

Mmmm…goodness…you know what, church…I believe you. I believe you when you say that.

It’s been a while since I’ve heard you say that, and I think you believe it, too, this year.

 

Christ is risen. Alleluia!

Praise and thank God!

 

I think we’ve had to take our hopeful moments as we could get them the past couple of years, but this year really does feel like resurrection. And look, we can be honest that we may not be totally out of the woods yet…it’s not as if there won’t ever be setbacks…in a pandemic, or in your life, amen?…but in a way that I certainly haven’t felt in a good long while, I believe you when you say that.

I think we’re experiencing some real resurrection joy this morning.

And it makes my heart very happy.

 

It reminds me, as it does every year, that sometimes resurrection takes a while. About 3 days…or sometimes 3 years…sometimes longer… Sometimes resurrection takes a while, but it is always, always worth it. Just sometimes it requires a little patience.

 

Patience is something I’ve been trying to practice in recent months… I mentioned in a sermon a few weeks back that we’re trying our hand at gardening this year…raised beds, tomatoes, peppers, the whole bit…so between that, parenting a 2 and a half-year old, and the fits and starts of a global pandemic…yeah, you could say I’ve definitely been working on my patience.

And you know, they say “Practice makes perfect”…but I gotta tell you, church, in my case, it feels like I’m not getting any better at it. In fact, I feel like I’m downright lousy at patience. Maybe you, too.

 

Sometimes resurrection takes a while.

 

Because if I get caught up in the immediacy of things, if I get consumed by wanting things to happen on my time and when I want them, I am always disappointed. And I miss out…on so much.

 

Just a couple of days ago, on Good Friday, we had, what I guess is now an annual event, what we call Good Friday in the Garden. And it’s a time of spring cleaning of our Prayer Garden: weeding, mulching, planting some flowers… And I’ve been saying that it’s geared toward families, and it is, but I think I’m going to stop saying that. Because the truth is, it’s for adults, too. It’s for folks with grandkids, and no kids…married folks, divorced folks, single folks…it’s an all-church event. Because we can learn so much from each other when we just take a second to be near to one another, to be in close proximity to one another.

And we planted some seeds out in the garden, and Pastor Janelle reminded us that plants need water and sunlight and oxygen and love…but it will take a while for those wildflowers and plants for pollinators to grow up.

Sometimes life breaking forth takes a while. Sometimes resurrection takes a while.

 

But pay attention along the way.

 

The women were the first to the tomb. They brought spices and clean sheets, they were going to keep taking care of Jesus’ body as it rested. And when they got there and didn’t find a body, they were pretty freaked out. And then the two people in dazzling clothes come along and ask the question that of course is on everyone’s mind, “Why are you looking for the living among the dead?”

And then they get to my favorite question of this story, “Don’t you remember? Don’t you remember what he told you?”

He told you everything that was supposed to happen, as it was supposed to happen, and yet, still, here you are. What are you doing here?

 

Pay attention along the way.

 

And then the women remembered, and they went to tell all the other disciples. And in every single Gospel account it’s the women who are the first witnesses to the resurrection. And it’s the women who are the first preachers, the women who are the ones entrusted with telling the good news to everyone else, including the apostles…so, you know, file that away for later…

But the writer of Luke is the only one to note that the apostles didn’t believe the women. “It seemed to them an idle tale.” So they go to see for themselves, and it turns out it was just as the women told them. Go figure…

 

Pay attention along the way.

 

Don’t get caught up in the immediacy of the moment, and wanting it happen just as you want it to. Sometimes resurrection takes a while, but if you’re paying attention, you’ll notice the signs.

 

Those tomatoes in our backyard are starting to come along, by the way. I know this because every day, our 2 and a half-year old reminds me that we need to go check on them. And one of the flowers on one of the plants has started to get a little green bulb on it. And if you come over to our house, our 2 and half-year old will jump up and down and yell at you, “Come outside! Come look! Come and see our tomato!”

 

Church, that’s the kind of joy and excitement I’m feeling with this resurrection this morning.

That’s the kind of joy and excitement I want to carry with me through this resurrection season and into the seasons to come.

 

How are you participating in resurrection in this season, church? Where do you see new life, and new possibilities, and new hope springing forth and bursting out?

 

Sometimes resurrection takes a while, but pay attention to signs, even the small ones.

And rejoice with all you got.

New life is coming.

Resurrected hope is here.

This good news is for you.

 

Alleluia!

Amen.

 

Good Friday 2022

John 18:1—19:42

The Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ

 

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Please pray with me this evening, church:

Holy God,

Hold us in our hurt and suffering.

Draw us close to you.

Draw us to the cross.

Draw us in as we behold your suffering and death,

And in so doing, behold our salvation.

Amen.

 

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Love is costly, dear friends.

 

As we enter into this night of longest shadows, it’s worth remembering that love led us to this place. Love brought us here, and love will lead us out of here, but for now, they believe they have succeeded in putting love to death.

They did put love to death. Love did die. And so, for now, the powers of this world have succeeded in silencing love. And so we’ll sit here, rest here, in this nighttime of the soul, this gloom of doubt and despair. We won’t rush out of the tomb just yet. We’ll stay here. Watch. And pray.

 

We’ve been talking throughout this Holy Week about participation. And mostly about our participation in this narrative. Where do you find yourself in the story…how will you make space and be involved in these liturgies…what’s your role here… And Good Friday is about participation, too.

But in addition to our participation and our role in this story, Good Friday is a love story about God’s participation with us.

 

See, I think it’s good and worthwhile to explore the parts of ourselves that often come up in the Passion story of Jesus. It is true…that there are sometimes when I’m not as awake and attentive to the suffering in the world as Jesus has asked me to be. There are times that I do deny ever knowing the name Jesus…or at least, times when Jesus doesn’t get my full-throated endorsement, or I’m less than forthcoming about the faith that is in me. There are times I’m tempted to trade off extravagant and scandalous love for a few bucks.

What about you? Do you ever find yourself so offended by radically inclusive love that you’d just as soon see that love and inclusion put to death and buried away so you wouldn’t have to look at it or think about it again? Have you ever ridiculed love for being weak and not able to stand against the powers and personalities of this empire that tell you to be tough, have thick skin, and be strong, no matter who you have to step over or step on or crush underfoot to get ahead?

We do participate in this Good Friday story.

 

But redemption comes in recognizing that this is still a story about God. Good Friday is God’s deepest participation with us and our story…with you and your story. In the crucifixion and death of Christ, God demonstrates the height and depth and length God will go to be in solidarity with humanity…with you, dear child.

There is no place God won’t go, no human experience God wouldn’t go through, to show you just how much God loves you. There is nowhere God won’t go to be in relationship with you.

Christ’s participation in the fullness of our story, in the fullness of our human experience…by dying, God joins God’s self to your human story. God experiences the very deepest parts of human pain and anguish…so that you would know that no matter what your story, no matter your suffering, no matter how grim and gloomy and despairing you feel, no matter your circumstances…God has been there, too.

God knows your pain and hurt. It’s a knowledge that cost Love its very life.

It’s a knowledge that cost Love everything.

 

But it’s a cost that came along with a hope that you would know just how much God loves you and cares for you…that you would know that even when you feel furthest from love, that God remains by your side…holding you, embracing you, walking with you through this valley of the shadow of death.

 

Love is costly, dear friends.

 

– – – – – – – – – –

 

In a moment, you’ll be invited to reflect on this love. We’ve set up Stations of the Cross around our Sanctuary and we invite you to get up and move around, as you are able. You may wish to visit the stations in turn, or you may feel free to visit them in whatever order you like.

 

I invite you to reflect on this mystery of love incarnate. The mystery of a love that chooses death. Reflect on your participation in this narrative. I bet you’ll find more in common than you think.

We’ve had similar experiences, too.

 

When have you felt betrayed? When have you betrayed someone else or someone else’s trust?

When have you denied knowing the name Jesus? When have you refrained from inviting someone to experience God’s love? When have you withheld your own love from someone else?

When have you been mocked? When have you been the one doing the mocking?

When have you stumbled under a heavy burden? When have you neglected to help someone who you’ve seen struggling with their own burdens?

When have you felt close to death? When have you looked away from pain and suffering because doing so would have made you responsible for trying to do something about it?

 

This story is your story, church.

It is the story of your salvation.

 

Love is costly.

Love does die.

 

But love can not stay buried away.

Love can not and will not stay dead.

 

Maundy Thursday 2022

John 13:1-17, 31b-35

1 Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to God. Having loved his own who were in the world, Jesus loved them to the end. 2 The Tempter had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray Jesus. And during supper 3 Jesus, knowing that God had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, 4 got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. 5 Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. 6 Jesus came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” 7 Jesus answered, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” 8 Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” 9 Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” 10 Jesus said to him, “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.” 11 For Jesus knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, “Not all of you are clean.”

 12 After Jesus had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, “Do you know what I have done to you? 13 You call me Rabbi and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. 14 So if I, your Lord and Rabbi, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. 15 For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.

16 Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. 17 If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.

 31b “Now the Son of humanity has been glorified, and God has been glorified in the Son. 32 If God has been glorified in the Son, God will also glorify the Son in God’s self and will glorify the Son at once. 33 Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Judeans so now I say to you, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come.’ 34 “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. 35 By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

 

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Please pray with me this evening, church:

Holy God,

During these holy days, we confess

that there is a lot about ourselves that feel unloveable.

As we wrestle with pain and anger and cruelty in our world,

pattern a posture of love for us.

Love that offers healing where there is hurt.

Love that offers service where there is derision.

Love that overcomes even the grave.

Amen.

 

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The culmination of this Holy Week—the beginning of the end of Jesus’ earthly ministry and life—begins as one should begin every important undertaking in one’s life…with a meal.

Even Jesus seems to recognize that you gotta eat. And for all the eternal and cosmic significance we ascribe to Jesus’ final days on this earth, Jesus certainly spends this Holy Week doing very human, almost ordinary, things: touching, healing, riding, chasing, eating, washing…dying… As much as the 4th gospel is not my favorite, for all the all-knowing and all-powerful characteristics that the author ascribes to Jesus, the gospel writer of John does account in meticulous detail the life and ministry of Jesus, and particularly this final holy week. The author of John goes to great lengths to capture the fullness of the culmination of this earthly ministry.

 

The beginning of the end begins…with a meal.

 

I remarked on Palm Sunday that our Lenten Midweek Services were some of the most worshipful moments I had experienced in a long, long time. And I mean that. Worship in our Sanctuary with all you fine people is always wonderful, but there was something about being gathered together in our Fellowship Hall around tables and around food and drink and music and sacred story…something about that time together that just touched a part deep within myself, it felt really holy. And I’m grateful for that.

 

Sharing a meal together is a very intimate act. You can learn a lot about someone by eating with them. You can pick up on their habits—for good, and for bad… There’s something disarming about food, I think. People tend to open up a little bit more when there’s a table that serves as a kind of buffer between you and food spread around between you able to be shared together. In my experience, agreeing to share a meal with you indicates that this person, at some level, feels safe with you.

Sharing a meal together can be a tender, intimate act.

 

Knowing that the hour was coming to depart and go to God, Jesus shares a meal with his friends…his closest friends, the inner circle. So very ordinary, and yet so profoundly holy. An intimate and tender moment between disciples and Rabbi, “Having loved his own who were in the world, Jesus loved them to the end.”

 

And then Jesus interrupts this tender time together and breaks in with another tender act. He gets water and towels, stoops down, and begins to wash their feet.

In the ancient world, in the first century, washing one’s feet was common, even having one’s feet washed by someone else was common. There weren’t paved roads and sidewalks, you walked on dirt and dust everywhere. And mostly you wore some version of a sandal. All of which is to say, your feet took a beating. And they got incredibly dirty. And before you would enter a house, you would shake off the dust from your feet, but there would always be some dirt caked on and so you would need to wash your feet. And mostly people had servants who would do this for them, hired servants, servants of the house…but this was a servant’s job, a role for some of the very lowest in the societal ladder. Certainly not the posture of a Rabbi, of a teacher.

 

Jesus continues to demonstrate the upside-down and backwards nature of the way God intends, the same upside-down and backwards nature we saw and heard about a few days ago on Palm Sunday. The dominion of God, God’s vision for how the world should work, is a subversive inversion of the way things are set up. Both then, in the Roman Empire, and now, in this secular empire of our time.

 

Love one another. Serve one another.

Don’t get even, turn the other cheek. Eat with all the so-called wrong people. Break bread with the outcast and the vulnerable. Give to those who can never pay you back.

Place yourself in close proximity—stand alongside—the ones who have never been given a fair shake, the ones who are told by the world that they are less than human, the ones who have laws written about them that deny their humanity…the ones who get called ugly things like “foreigner,” “alien,” “illegal”…be found standing with and alongside these most derided and devalued because it to such as these as the kingdom of God belongs.

If you want to live into the reign of God and God’s dream and vision for our world, go to where God tells us that God is to be found.

 

Love costs you something. Always.

It costs part of yourself. Love will cost you the need to win every argument, or the need to feel superior to other people. Love will cost you a certain amount of respectability by asking you to stoop down and take the posture of a servant. Love will cost you the perfectly manicured façades you feel like you need to display to the world by finding you hanging out with, serving, and loving all the so-called wrong people.

 

I said it on Sunday morning, Holy Week is about participation. The worship services are experiential, the liturgies beg your involvement…the sacred story, though familiar and unchanging, demands to be heard anew and with fresh insights.

Jesus models this participation. Sharing a meal. Having your feet or your hands washed. These intimate and tender actions are at the heart of what it means to share and have love for one another.

 

“One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you are clean.”

The author of John goes on to insert their interpretation of what they think Jesus meant by saying that Jesus was talking about Judas Iscariot…and that might have been the case…but as I’ve been thinking about these words, I got to reflecting that there are parts of me that feel unclean… There are parts of myself that I’d rather keep hidden from Jesus. There are parts of me that betray Jesus, that are less than the ideal follower of Christ, that don’t always live as God wants me to live… There are parts of me that feel unloveable by God…

Perhaps you, too.

 

“You are clean…though not all of you…is clean.”

 

Be honest, church, about those parts of yourself.

Be truthful about your need to wash up.

Difficult as it is, be honest about them.

Do you really think God doesn’t know those parts of you already?

 

Your participation is invited.

Bring your dusty and weary souls to be washed.

Bring your dusty and weary selves to this feast of mercy and grace.

 

Welcome to these most holy days. Welcome to the Triduum—the Great Three Days.

The beginning of this end has begun.

First, we wash. Then, we share a meal.

Find compassion here.

Hold love in your hands. A costly love.

Be renewed, strengthened, and nourished to love a world wrestling with its own unloveable places.

 

Come, beloved.

This gift of love is for you.