3rd Sunday after Pentecost

A few days ago, I heard an interview with Krista Tippet where she was talking with Martin Sheen, who was born Ramón Estévez, and he was telling her about the first real job he held, as a caddy at a golf course. As he talked, he described how he was as invisible to the men playing golf as a gnat or bumblebee on the greens.

And I remember a movie from a few years ago where a woman who was working as a hotel maid was arguing with a politician who had fallen in love with her. He had discovered she had lied about her name and her work, and he couldn’t understand why she hadn’t told him the truth when they met. She told him, “That wasn’t the first time we met; the first time we met I was cleaning your bathroom.” She had been hidden in plain sight, as overlooked as a towel rack or a set of clothes hangers.

Sadly, stories like theirs aren’t new or novel. In fact, they are among the oldest stories we find in our biblical narrative. Today, in Genesis we meet Hagar, an Egyptian slave woman serving Abram’s wife Sarai, and the mother of Ishmael, but to understand the story we have in chapter 21, we need to go back to an earlier chapter of their lives together.

Listen to these verses from Genesis chapter 16:

Sarai said to Abram, "You see that the LORD has prevented me from bearing children; go in to my slave-girl; it may be that I shall obtain children by her." And Abram listened to the voice of Sarai. So, after Abram had lived ten years in the land of Canaan, Sarai, Abram's wife, took Hagar the Egyptian, her slave-girl, and gave her to her husband Abram as a wife. He went in to Hagar, and she conceived; and when she saw that she had conceived, she looked with contempt on her mistress….
Then Sarai dealt harshly with her, and she ran away from her.

Abram and Sarai, to whom God had promised a blessing of descendants that outnumber the stars in heaven (ch. 15), doubted God’s promises and provision. Instead, they seized an opportunity they saw in front of them to make things turn out theway they wanted by their own actions.

In Hagar, Sarai saw a young and fertile slave who Abram could take as his wife and who could bear his son. Hagar was nothing more to her than a means to an end; because slaves and their children were property of their masters, Hagar’s childbearing would elevate Sarai and remove the stigma she experienced by being barren.

But Sarai’s carefully laid plan to elevate herself backfired, because it revealed her callousness, and itreduced her, costing her the respect or esteem of Hagar the slave woman. And when Sarai saw that she was no longer respected by Hagar, she despised her even more.

In the next part of the story, while she is in the wilderness, an angel of the Lord appears to Hagar, giving her the first annunciation in Scripture and telling her to name her son Ishmael or “God heard.” Then, she becomes the only person to name God, calling God “A God of seeing.” (16:13)

Knowing she has been both heard and seen by God, that God cares for her needs and values her, she follows the angel’s instructions and returns to her mistress.

When we pick up the story today, the family is celebrating a milestone in Ishmael’s life when Sarai becomes jealous and orders Abram to send the child and his mother away. Their presence is a painful reminder of her former barrenness, and her failure to trust God.

But, instead of the harm intended for her by Abram and Sarai, Hagar experiences the compassion of God first in exodus and now in exile.

This time God doesn’t instruct her to return to her mistress. This time, when God finds her in the wilderness and speaks to her, God remains with her where she is, recalling the divine promise to make her son Ishmael into a great nation. Just as God provides for Israel when they are exiled in Babylon, God provides for Hagar and Ishmael in Paran, recognizing that while they are outside the covenant established with Abram, they are not outside God’s mercy and compassion.

This story prompts me to ask, “Who are the people hidden in plain sight in our lives today?” "Who are the invisible people?"

Is it the man sitting on the median on 74 with the sign that says “homeless” or the women behind the locked doors of the shelter down the street?

What about the people hidden in plain sight in our everyday lives: a cashier at the grocery store or gas station, a server at a restaurant, a receptionist on the other end of the phone?

Who are the people we avoid or dismiss because their very presence awakens our fears or recalls our regrets? What blinds us from seeing the person God created and loves? Are there people with whom we have broken relationships or, perhaps, whole groups of people narrowly defined by political party or race, or whatever label makes them unpopular this morning?

While the good news given to Hagar and Ishmael is that no one is outside of God’s care,
if we, like Sarai, are the ones in power, sending away those who we have named “other”, that good news may sting.
And, if we are like Abram, complicit and submissive, watching as others are shut out, it may convict us in our silence.
Thankfully, God’s love persists for us, too, and God’s mercy and forgiveness is healing balm for those self-inflicted wounds.

Let us pray.
Holy and compassionate God,
Thank you for the wideness of your mercy that is not limited or bound by us.
Thank you for the reach of your love that you find us when we are in the wilderness.
Thank you for the steadfastness of your promises even when we doubt and fear and try to wrestle control from you.
Whether we are in safety and comfort, exodus or exile, may we find our rest in you.
In the name of El-Roi, the God who sees, we pray.
Amen.

Trinity of our Lord

About thirty-five years ago, I stood on the deck of a brand new guided missile frigate at a shipyard in Washington state when it was commissioned for service in the US Navy; my dad was the ship’s first commanding officer and my brother and I were there for the ceremony.

This ship had been in the works for more than four years; plans were drawn, its hull was laid, it was launched and christened, and it had been through sea trials before we ever got to that day. On that day there was a huge celebration with red, white and blue bunting, a Navy band, rear admirals, speeches and photos, and a cake as long as I was tall at eleven years old.

For the shipbuilder it was the celebrated culmination of a lot of hard work, and it was time to turn the ship over to my father and the crew, as they began their service together. And for the 215 sailors and officers on board - well, I don’t know because I was eleven – but I imagine they were filled with anticipation and excitement, confident that their training had equipped them well for the work ahead and hopeful that they would serve their mission well.

Today’s Gospel text is often called the Great Commission, and I have to believe that, standing on that mountain with Jesus, the eleven disciples were experiencing some of that same excitement and anticipation, when Jesus told them to go out into the world and make disciples.

After all, they had spent three years following Jesus and witnessing how he spoke and taught, how he lived his life and loved the people he encountered. And he didn’t just command them to go; he coupled his command with a promise. He told them, “I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

It is that promise that gives us confidence that “no matter what and in whatever circumstances”, Christ is with us.[i]

But a lot of us don’t really believe that, do we?

Like the disciples who worshiped and doubted, we remember Jesus telling them, “you will not always have me [with you]” and, when we feel distant from God, we think it is because God has abandoned us. [ii] Because we cannot see the evidence of God’s presence, we assume God is absent.

But the author of Hebrews reminds us that faith is “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”[iii]

As followers of Jesus, we can go into the world with confidence and hope because God is abounding in steadfast love for us, and God promises that we do not go alone.

But, we do have to go.

The disciples couldn’t stay in Jerusalem; they followed Jesus north to the region of Galilee. We cannot stay in our building or on our church property, or even in our own comfortable circles of friends; God sends us to find our own “Galilee” – the place where others are, others who do not yet know God loves them.

Our commission is to invite people – of all ages –
to see God in their lives:
to awaken to the holy presence of God who loves us,
God who sheds tears at the violence in our world,
God who winces when we pierce each other with barbed words.

Maybe the summer offers us new opportunities to be attentive to this commissioning we’ve been given, and look, with some excitement and anticipation for those places where God may be leading us and those places where people are hurting and who might be changed by knowing they are not alone.

I don’t think we have to go far to find them.

With school out for the summer, I think of the children who have depended on free breakfast and lunch at their schools; and I am grateful for free summer lunch programs but I wonder if they know where to find them.

With the return of summer storms and power outages, I think of older neighbors who may be vulnerable to the soaring heat, but I don’t know how to offer help without treading on their privacy.

And, when even the shade temperatures reach the 90s, I think of people living without electricity or without clean or cold water, but I know we can’t afford to leave our outdoor spigots unlocked because they get left running wide open.

I don't know the answers to how to be present for all of these different people, but God does.

In the June newsletter I asked you to be praying for renewal in our congregation and in your life and to be listening to the leading of the Holy Spirit. Today’s gospel is more than mere encouragement. It is a commandment for us to step out into the world as Jesus’ followers and be different because of the promises we have from God.

Trusting in those promises, and confident that God will show us how to be in the world where we are needed, let us pray.

Holy God,
May we remember that you are with us always,
to the end of the age;
Give us courage to go out into the world
even though we don’t have all the answers;
and equip us to bear witness to your love and mercy
knowing that You look upon us and take delight in us as Your beloved children.
Amen.[iv]

[i] Karoline Lewis, Dear Working Preacher, June 11, 2017.
[ii] Matthew 26:11
[iii] Hebrews11:1
[iv] Adapted from Laughing Bird Liturgical Resources.

Day of Pentecost

Today we’re celebrating Pentecost and the pouring out of the Holy Spirit upon the disciples, and we are reaching back through the ancestry of our faith to build upon a tradition of God’s spirit being sent among God’s people.

Throughout Scripture, in both old and new testaments,

the Spirit of God has been making its presence known

and equipping us to do the work that God wants us to do.

In Numbers, there’s a story of God sharing the gift of the spirit with seventy others who would help Moses lead Israel in the wilderness of their life together;

And the setting for today’s Gospel — the Jewish Festival of Booths — that celebrated God giving the law to Moses at Mount Sinai recalls an event that defined God’s covenant relationship with the people of Israel.

And finally, in Acts, we get the story of Pentecost when the spirit visibly comes in tongues of flame as a sign that different groups of people have received God’s Spirit,

that the Spirit has broken into the lives of a community.

These different stories show us God speaking through many different voices and kinds of people, and giving us a new common or shared language – the language of faith.

Learning a new language works best by immersion, when you are surrounded by other people who are learning alongside you, and you can turn to others who are have been speaking it longer than you. Instead of studying phrases and vocabulary from a book or listening to a recording, you hear the words in their context and you can pick up on all the other clues that help the new language make sense.

You will trip over new sounds and foreign words, and it may feel just as awkward as rowdy experiences of the Spirit, with raised hands and voices, or thunderous noise from clapping or shouting, might feel in many of our Lutheran worship settings, but immersion helps you soak up the new language, like new wine, so that it becomes part of your identity.

It sounds a lot like the past three years of faith formation with Landon and Devyn and Rainey who will be confirmed later this morning in worship.

We began by learning together the big-picture ark of God’s story in the Bible that shows us how we are created for relationship with a loving God and given responsibility to live out of the grace that we have been given.

We spent time reading Luther’s Small Catechism and the language he gives us to better understand God’s commandments and the profession of faith that we make in the apostle’s creed.

We practiced praying for each other even as we learned more about the prayer that Jesus gives us in scripture.

And we tackled hard questions that we face when faith and life intersect; questions like “Why do bad things happen?” and “Is it ok to be mad at God?”; questions that come up when our world is scarred by brokenness and doesn’t measure up to the promises we hear from God.

We didn’t find all the answers. In fact, I would bet we found more questions, but we also discovered that God is big enough for our questions and, even, for our anger and our sadness.

We discovered that living a Christian life is about learning how to live in relationship with a loving God, where you talk to God and listen to God, and where you show up just like you would to build any new friendship.

In the story of Pentecost we hear a babel of voices,

but unlike the story in Genesis, on this day, by the power of the Holy Spirit in their midst, everyone understands each other.

When we celebrate Landon, Devyn and Rainey affirming the promises made on their behalf at their baptisms, we will also be celebrating that God brings us together in our differences, and, by God’s Spirit, unites us and helps us find understanding together.  

Today, even as our joy is tempered by loss, we rejoice that the Spirit is here, moving among us, reshaping and redefining who we are as we are joined together be God’s people in the world.

The story of Pentecost reminds us that we do not live in faith only for ourselves but for the sake of the world. God promises that the Spirit gives us just what each of us needs to go out and take the Good News of God’s love and mercy and forgiveness to our neighbors, and to show the world who Jesus is in our words and actions.

Like the acts of the Spirit we heard in the story of Pentecost, and like learning a new language, learning to live filled with God’s Spirit can be messy and hard and even awkward.

But it is also really very beautiful as you see the Spirit working right here in our corner of the world, as we come to understand that we are brought together intentionally by God,

and who we are is who we are by the work of the Spirit and not by any effort or merit of our own.

Let us pray.

Holy God,

Pour out Your Spirit upon us and renew us for the work you want us to do. Help us discern the gifts you have given each of us.

Kindle the fire of Your Spirit in us that we would share your Good News with our neighbors with joy.

Continue the good work you have begun in us and strengthen our community, for the sake of the world.

Amen.

Ascension of our Lord

While portrayals of the birth and crucifixion of Christ and predictions of end times garner more support at the box office, the Book of Acts tells a different story. It is the story of the life of the early church and disciples, and it is all about the in-between times.

As one pastor says: “We are an Easter people living in a Good Friday world.” The statement recognizes how we live in a broken world where hope has been buried in a tomb. And yet, we know the sure and constant hope of the resurrection, even when all visible evidence argues for despair.

Upon the Ascension of our Lord, forty days after the glorious Easter celebration of the resurrection of Christ, we enter another in-between time. It doesn’t cast the same somber pall as Easter Saturday. On this day, Jesus leaves the disciples and, as we affirm in both the Apostles’ and Nicene Creeds, “is seated at the right-hand of God” the Father in heaven.

Throughout his ministry, Jesus took time to withdraw from his disciples, and spend time with the Father in prayer and solitude.

But this time is different.

Since the fifth century, the focus on the Ascension has been on Jesus’ departure. Ancient works of art show him climbing a stairway to heaven; medieval paintings illustrate a group of disciples, and sometimes angels, watching his disappearing feet.  The impression one gets is that God has left us.

(pause)

But the Ascension does not revoke or break the promise of the resurrection. Jesus is not held somewhere between memory and hope, in some kind of cosmic suspended animation. And Jesus is not seated on a golden throne somewhere in the fluffy clouds above our heads. It looks different than the last forty days, but

God – Father -Son, and Holy Spirit – is still with us!

His departure is an ending, of his physical appearances and presence, but it is also a beginning. At the Ascension, Jesus promises his disciples that God is empowering us to be God’s people in wholly new way.

Up until now, Jesus has been with the disciples, teaching about the kingdom of heaven, and witnessing to them how to forgive and love and draw people into relationship with our merciful God. Jesus has been leading them every step of the way. Following him was as easy as following his footprints in sand because he was right there where they could see him.

Then, immediately before his ascension, Jesus tells the disciples to wait, saying,

“You are witnesses of these things. ⁴⁹And see, I am sending upon you what my Father promised; so stay here … until you have been clothed with power from on high.”

Now, the disciples are being asked to learn how to lead;

to wait on God’s initiative and make sense of where God is accompanying them;

to watch for God’s lead and follow, when the footsteps may not be as visible and the path is obscured.

Waiting is hard work. It’s much easier to rush in and do what we think is best, to create big and audacious programs, or to try to wrestle control and make people do what we want.

In our instant society where you can download a book in seconds, order movies on demand, and nearly anything can be delivered to your doorstep for a premium, we have lost the art of waiting.

About a week ago, the story of Noah was part of the daily lectionary – the readings assigned for the days between Sundays that are in Word and Season – and I noticed something new about this story that, even though I didn’t grow up learning memory verses in Bible drills, was familiar. You know the story, right?

God tells Noah to build an ark and then he tells him on a specific day to bring his wife and his sons and their wives and pairs of all the wild animals and creeping things and winged creatures onto the boat with him.

And then, it rains, and rains, and rains; for forty days, the flood continued, and every living thing on the face of the ground and the birds of the air were blotted out.

And when the flood ends, Noah sends out a dove and it returns with an olive branch and the next time he sends it out, it doesn’t return, indicating that all the waters were dried up.

And then God puts his bow in the clouds, and makes a covenant, or promise, with Noah and humankind.

That’s the story we all know. Except when you read Genesis 8 and 9 again, you hear a second story, an unabridged version that makes the story much more demanding, as if living on a boat for forty days with every blessed creature on earth isn’t enough!

Like the creation stories in the first two chapters of Genesis, Noah’s story is told by two different writers, and their stories are entwined in the text. In the longer version of the story, Noah and his family have to wait.

It says that, after the flood stops, “the waters gradually receded from the earth; at the end of one hundred fifty days, the waters had abated; and in the seventh month…the ark [reached land].” The waters continued to abate for three more months. After TEN months, three HUNDRED days, the mountaintops began to reappear.

In 300 days,

a person can hike the Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Maine;

a gardener can sow seeds, plant, grow and harvest a bounty;

an infant can be conceived, carried and born.

Contrary to what popular culture and technology teaches us, waiting is not something to be avoided.

It is hard though. Ask the high school senior waiting on college admission decisions; the expectant parents and grandparents eager with anticipation; or anyone waiting for a loved one to return from a military deployment.

Waiting, and admitting our powerlessness, our lack of control, is tough.

But waiting on God isn’t “doing nothing.” It isn't about indecision or laziness.

Waiting on God is choosing to trust God’s promise to be with us in all circumstances, instead of anxiously worrying about what’s next.

Waiting on God is learning to be a disciple and be fully present in each day that God has given us.

With Jesus’ words echoing in our heads, may we wait, with courage and patience, confident God is with us.

Let us pray…[i]

Holy God,

Prepare us to go out into the world,

that in our words and in our lives we may bear witness to the Christ who has ascended to be everywhere present.

Give us patience and a spirit of wisdom and revelation,

that we would await the fulfillment of your promises in our lives.

Amen.

---

[i]a Adapted from Laughing Bird Liturgical Resources

Sixth Sunday of Easter

In today’s Gospel, we join Jesus on the night when he will be arrested, as he is talking with his disciples. Throughout this Farewell Discourse that begins in Chapter 13 and continues through Chapter 18 of John’s Gospel, Jesus is preparing his followers,

explaining that he is on the move.

But in the midst of his goodbye to them, he makes promises too. In this short passage he affirms that he is not leaving them alone.

And, as if he knows their doubts and fears will drown out his words of assurance, he says it three times. First, he says,

“[An advocate] will abide with you”

The word Jesus uses here is “paraclete.” Helper, comforter, counselor and advocate are all ways it gets translated into English. The point is: we are not alone.

The disciples had been following their rabbi Jesus who was both very visible and vocal, and now he was leaving; he wanted them to know that even when they cannot see him face-to-face, he is still present. Their faith was not in an ordinary human, but in God, revealed in the person of Jesus.

Now, an advocate is not merely a friend, but someone who takes risks for another; someone who protects the vulnerable and speaks up for the neglected; someone who, as Luther put it in his Heidelberg Disputation, “calls a thing what it is” – naming evil as “evil” and good as “good” – without regard for popular opinion. An advocate lends strength and courage when it is waning, rallying us, bringing us to our feet when we are weary and helping us face life unafraid.[i] This is who Jesus promises is accompanying us in his absence.

But sometimes, when we look over our shoulder, it still feels like we’re alone. The people we are used to sharing our days or our lives with aren’t always with us. The disciples would scatter later that same night as they fled from the soldiers who arrest Jesus and hide behind locked doors after the crucifixion. Against the creeping uncertainty and fear, Jesus says,

“I will not leave you orphaned”

We are made sons and daughters of God by faith and that status is immutable; it cannot be taken away or lost. We are not orphaned because God is steadfast in God’s continuous and lifelong love for us. [ii]

Finally, saying, “I am in my Father, and you in me and I in you”

Jesus speaks of the indwelling of God.

We cannot separate Jesus from God and Spirit, and we cannot separate ourselves from God. Sure, we can try, and we do; we walk away or denounce God; we get angry and scream at God. More than once. But God remains steadfast. God persists in being God, and upholding the promise that God is with us.

So trusting what Jesus says here, that God is with us, empowering us, what does it mean to follow Jesus on the move? After all, faith in a living Christ means we are on the move, too.

For the first disciples, eventually, it meant traveling to new places, meeting people who didn’t know Jesus and teaching what he taught. Through the Acts of the Apostles we hear about their travels and persecutions, and how people were being added to the church.

For one man in Umbria in central Italy in the 13^th century, it meant living monastically for three years, before becoming an itinerant, or wandering, preacher who traveled in poverty and faith throughout Italy and to France, Germany, Spain, the Balkans and even to Egypt to share the good news of Christ. We know him today as St. Francis of Assisi.[iii]

For a whole lot of people on Friday night, it meant showing up in the heat at the fairgrounds for Relay for Life, gathering for fellowship, walking the track and reading the names on the luminaries as we celebrated, with thanksgiving, the lives of survivors,

and remembered, with tears, those who have died. But most of all, we were witnessing that death and disease do not get the final word; faith, hope and love are greater.

As we get ready to welcome summer, I invite you to think about where Jesus is on the move with you, in your life and in our community. To help you out, I borrowed an idea from children’s author Jeff Brown who wrote the book Flat Stanley. If you’ve known a first or second grade student in the last few years, you may have come across him. He’s a little boy who becomes flattened and flies through the mail to all kinds of adventures. Today, I have “Flat Jesus” here for you. All ages - you can take him and color him; some people like to laminate their Flat Jesus using clear contact paper or laminating sheets from the office store. That’s up to you.

This summer, take Jesus with you wherever you go, whether your day is filled with the everyday stuff of life, like work or school and errands; or you’re going on vacation, or you’re spending time with family and friends. If you have a phone with a camera, take a picture of “Flat Jesus” with you and send it to me in a text or an email, so we can share all the places Jesus goes this summer.

It may feel silly but laughter and silliness are part of our God-created life too, and it’s a hands-on way to remember that even when Jesus is on the move, he is with us.

Let us pray…

Emmanuel, God with us,

Thank you for the gift of your Son through whom we know your love for us.

Thank you for the gift of your Holy Spirit that we always have an advocate, someone on our side, with us.

Teach us to follow in faith, trusting your promises, and sharing the good news of your grace wherever we go.

Amen.

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[i] Interpreters’ Bible Commentary.

[ii] Moloney.

[iii] Chris Webb. The Fire of the Word.

Fifth Sunday of Easter

Returning to the portion of the letter to the early church that we heard this morning, the author is addressing the persecuted Christian community, encouraging them that God is the cornerstone upon whom the community rests. Our footing is sure, and our basic foundation is solid because it is found in God.

But then, he writes, “like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house….”

I don’t know about you, but when I hear the word “house,” I picture bricks and mortar, like this sanctuary. It’s true that we are cemented together by our common faith; but bricks disintegrate and mortar erodes, so I’m confident there’s more to this metaphor.

The Greek word at the root of both “build” and “house” here is οἶκος. And in addition to referring to construction projects with joists and beams, lintels and doorposts, this language is used to encourage Christians to edify and strengthen each other, and make each other more able to live as a community in Christ.

A spiritual house is not made of bricks and mortar;
instead it is a holy house where God dwells with the people of God,
a living church, filled with living disciples.

Bringing us all together probably gets even messier than a cement mixer at a construction site, but Christianity is a social faith; you can’t freelance it or go solo. Benedictine nun Joan Chittister writes:[i]

In community, we work out our connectedness to God, to one another, and to ourselves. It is in community where we find out who we really are.

It is life with another that shows my impatience and life with another that demonstrates my possessiveness and life with another that gives notice to my nagging devotion to the self. Life with someone else, in other words, doesn’t show me nearly as much about his or her shortcomings, as it does about my own…

In human relationships I learn that theory is not substitute for love. It is easy to talk about the love of God, it is another thing to practice it.

From Genesis on, we see God creating us for relationship.

First, we are created to live in relationship with God, and God loves us so much that God waits on us. Every time God’s people turn away or flee God’s presence, God is patient and waits for us to return.

And, in the meantime, God entrusts us with care for each other, too. Relationships don’t exist in a vacuum; they intertwine, overlap and weave together into a rich tapestry. Some may be more threadbare or worn, and others may be rough and even abrasive, but they are all of one piece, one people.

And because we are real people who live in the real world, we know heartbreak and elation. But together, we form 

a community that sustains us in the midst of suffering, of illness and disease, and in the face of tragic loss and death;

a community that gently corrects us, encourages us and affirms our gifts and talents;
a community that celebrates our achievements and thrills to watch us soar.

And because we are a community of the living and risen Christ,
and not some lifeless edifice, we are created to be life-giving,
not only to the people who gather here regularly, but to our neighbors. For our neighbors who are hurting, hungry or alone, God’s people are called to provide balm for their wounds, food for their bellies and love and mercy for their hearts.

Maybe you remember in the fifth Harry Potter movie when “Dumbledore’s Army” discovered the “room of requirement.”

It was a giant room where the students could practice defensive spells that would be used to fight the enemy, the death eaters. “The room of requirement” was a magical space that was only revealed to a person

“when they have real need of it. Sometimes it is there, and sometimes it is not, but when it appears, it is always equipped for the seeker’s needs.”[ii]

It could shift and adapt, and become what the world needed in a specific time and place.

Maybe that’s what it means to be living stones:
to be present for people who have a real need for God and to adapt and become what the world needs, here and now.

Let us pray…
Living God,
Thank you for being steadfast in your love for us
and for forming us into a holy people.
Give us your grace to become living stones, strengthening each other as we live as a community in Christ.
Show us how to be life-giving in a cynical world, that our words and actions would reflect your love and mercy, and not our own selfishness and possessiveness.
We pray in the name of your Son Jesus Christ,
Amen.

[i] Joan Chittister, OSB. Wisdom Distilled from the Daily.
[ii] “Order of the Phoenix.”

Fourth Sunday of Easter

The shepherding imagery woven throughout today’s readings reminds us first that we are a flock, a community gathered together by God, who promises to seek the lost and bring back the stray, to bind up the injured and heal the sick, and to strengthen the weak.

God has formed a covenant with us, promising to provide for us, and confident in God’s promises, we are given responsibility for our neighbors and ourselves, that we will work together to bring about the Kingdom of God here on earth.

In John’s Gospel, Jesus levels criticism at the Pharisees,

echoing a prophecy delivered in Ezekiel 34. There the prophet charges the shepherds, the kings of ancient Israel and Judah, with neglecting the people they were supposed to be caring for. The people given the authority to care for God’s people were, instead, caring too much for themselves. They were eating the fatling and clothing themselves with the wool and letting their people be scattered and preyed upon.

Here, Jesus charges that, instead of being watchmen for the people of God, the religious leaders in Jerusalem were acting as temple gatekeepers, shutting out those who wanted to enter into God’s presence and community.

Jesus tells the Pharisees, “I am the gate for the sheep.”

Remember, when Jesus uses “I am” statements, he is describing who he is as the Son of God. His disciples and the Jewish community would recognize his “I am” as an echo of the declarations that the God of Israel made to Abraham and Moses.

But, what does he mean when he says, “I am the gate.”?

At night, shepherds lead their sheep into a pen or sheephold, protecting them against coyotes and wolves, and the gate is closed behind them to ensure their protection. Today, some people think of this gate like a cattle guard, an open place in a fenceline where the ground is depressed and bars are placed over it so a truck can drive over it, but cows won’t try to cross.[i]

While he’ll go on to make the more familiar statement, “I am the good shepherd,” that’s not the claim Jesus makes here. He expands his statement, saying, “whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture.”

Returning to the image of the flock who has rested overnight in safety; in the morning, the gate is opened and they are led out again to find water and grass.[ii]

When Jesus says, “I am the gate,” you can be assured that this gate doesn’t lock behind you trapping you, and it isn’t a gate with heavy iron bars that imprison you.

Instead, in Jesus, you find a gate that swings easily,
granting you freedom to come in; to seek safety and refuge from thieves that threaten your peace; and, then,
to go out again, refreshed and strengthened for what lies ahead.

Too often, religious authorities — including our churches and congregations — forget Jesus’ words and we take on the role of gatekeeper, erecting barriers or obstacles to control who comes and goes, making judgments about who belongs and who doesn’t.

Here, Jesus reminds us that that’s not our job.

If we’ve been given any authority at all, it is to gather the flock to feed, heal and strengthen. Not, in the words of Ezekiel, to ravage people as we “push with our flanks and shoulders” or “butt with our horns.”[iii]

Other times, we lock ourselves behind closed gates, afraid of the unknown and suspicious of those who are different from us. But, here’s the thing, when we stay hidden, we are cut off from the green pasture and all the good gifts that God has given us to nourish us.

Jesus is the gate and we are the flock. Today, at Dylan’s baptism and in the affirmation of baptism for the Turners that we will celebrate in a few minutes, we are reminded what our responsibilities as God’s people really are:
to live among God's faithful people,
to hear the word of God and share in the Lord's supper,
to proclaim the good news of God in Christ through word and deed,
to serve all people, following the example of Jesus,
and to strive for justice and peace in all the earth.

May we always remember that Jesus comes that we may have life as God’s people, and, knowing that God calls us each by name, trust in God’s promises.

Let us pray…
Shepherding God,
We give you thanks for your Son Jesus who reveals your love and mercy for us.
Free us from the illusion that we are in control and help us to welcome everyone who comes seeking you and needing nurture and care.
Lead us by your Holy Spirit to places of rest and refreshment and strengthen us to go into the world as your people.
Amen.

[i] https://revgalblogpals.org/2017/05/02/cattle-guard-jesus/, accessed May 6, 2017
[ii] http://pres-outlook.org/category/ministry-resources/looking-into-the-lectionary/, accessed May 6, 2017
[iii] Ezekiel 34:21