El Cuarto Domingo de Pascua

I first preached this sermon in Spanish; the English translation is below.

Salmo 23

Juan 10:1-11

Oremos…

Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestros corazones sean aceptables ante tu presencia, Señor, fortaleza nuestra y redentor nuestro. Amén.

 

Quizás recuerden que, a menudo, este cuarto domingo de Pascua recibe el nombre de “Domingo del Buen Pastor”, y nuestras lecturas nos conectan con pasajes de las Escrituras que nos hablan de cómo el Señor es nuestro Pastor.

 

En el Evangelio de Juan de hoy, Jesús dice: “Yo soy la puerta de las ovejas.” (v. 7); y luego, tan solo unos versículos más adelante, afirma: “Yo soy el buen pastor. El buen pastor da su vida por las ovejas.” (v. 11). Podemos reconocer que estas son dos de las siete declaraciones del “Yo SOY” que Jesús pronuncia en este Evangelio: declaraciones que nos revelan algo acerca de su identidad como nuestro Señor y Salvador, así como de su relación con nosotros y con toda la humanidad.

 

Malcolm Guite, poeta y sacerdote anglicano, describe la vida de un pastor del primer siglo y nos ofrece una perspectiva esclarecedora sobre nuestro texto del evangelio. Según él, una aldea solía tener un redil común o compartido. Las familias compartían ese refugio, el cual protegía a las ovejas de las inclemencias más severas del tiempo. Cada mañana, los pastores acudían a ese redil; un guardián —a quien se le pagaba por vigilar los rebaños durante la noche— abría la puerta, y los pastores sacaban a sus ovejas de sus rebaños hacia afuera para que pastaran.

 

Sin embargo, muy pronto, cualquier pastizal situado en los alrededores inmediatos se agotaba; por eso, cada día los pastores tenían que llevar a sus rebaños más lejos, viajando hacia pastizales más altos y distantes. Con el tiempo, llegaban a caminar hasta lugares situados a más de un día de viaje de distancia, por lo que tanto el rebaño como el pastor tenían que dormir al aire libre. 

En esos lugares, los arqueólogos han encontrado círculos de piedra como este 

con muros lo suficientemente altos como para impedir que las ovejas abandonaran el redil, y con una abertura que les permitía entrar o salir. Pero, estas estructuras no tenían puertas o portones, así que, el pastor se acostaba en la abertura y se convertía, de manera literal, en la puerta por la cual 

tendría que pasar cualquier lobo, ladrón o bandido para entrar al redil,

y a través de la cual las ovejas tendrían que pasar para salir.

 

Con esta comprensión, podemos escuchar este texto de una nueva manera.

 

Cuando Jesús habla del portero que abre la puerta, podemos imaginarnos la actividad ruidosa de la mañana, mientras las ovejas esperan oír la voz de su pastor, distinta de todas las demás.

 

Jesús dice: “Él llama a sus propias ovejas por su nombre y las saca.” (v. 3b).

 

Y luego, cuando los discípulos todavía no lo entendían, Jesús lo intenta de nuevo. Esta vez, habla de las ovejas que han seguido al pastor hacia los pastos altos. Allí no hay portero. Solo están el pastor y el rebaño. Y cualesquiera que sean los peligros o amenazas que encuentren en el camino. Al reunir a sus ovejas dentro del rústico redil cuando cae la noche, el pastor se convierte ahora, literalmente, en la puerta: las protege, las mantiene a salvo y ahuyenta a cualquier intruso o amenaza.

 

Jesús dice: “Yo soy la puerta de las ovejas.” (v. 7); y luego, apenas unos versículos más adelante, dice: “Yo soy el buen pastor. El buen pastor da su vida por las ovejas.” (v. 11).

 

El pastor no es solo un cuidador o un compañero.

El pastor es aquel que:

guía a las ovejas hacia el descanso y el alimento. 

protege a las ovejas de los enemigos o del mal,

dando su vida para que las ovejas hallen descanso y paz.

 

Eso es Jesús para nosotros.

Él nos guía a través de la vida y nos invita a la quietud.

Jesús guía nuestros pasos y espera a que lo sigamos.

 

Y Jesús, en su muerte en la cruz,  literalmente entrego su vida por nosotros.

Al morir y al resucitar,

Jesús nos asegura que la muerte no tiene la última palabra.

Dios siempre va delante de nosotros, guiándonos y protegiéndonos. Guite, a quien mencioné anteriormente, escribió el siguiente poema mientras reflexionaba sobre Jesús como la Puerta o el Acceso al Redil: [i]

 

No una que cuelgue suave o hábilmente,

no como aquellas que cepillaste en el taller de José;

no como las aberturas bien aceitadas que se abrían

con tanta facilidad ante el paso experto de Pilato;

 

no como aquellas que se cerraron en el rostro de María,

de casa en casa, en el desbordado Belén;

ni como aquella que ningún hombre puede asaltar:

la temible cortina, el velo imponente

que espera tu ruptura en Jerusalén.

 

No una que hayas fabricado, sino una en la que te has convertido:

portante, equilibrada, una viga con peso propio

para salvar la brecha, para ponernos al alcance

de tu alto pastizal. Llamándonos por nuestro nombre,

tiendes tu cuerpo sobre la brecha;

tú mismo eres la puerta que se abre hacia el hogar.

 

Hay dos partes de esos versos que amo especialmente. La primera es que Jesús nos llama a cada uno por nuestro nombre; y la segunda es que, tal como escribe Guite, Jesús es "la puerta que se abre hacia el hogar".

 

Nombrar a alguien es una forma poderosa de demostrarle que es visto, conocido y amado; y dar la bienvenida a alguien le otorga un sentido de pertenencia.

 

Dentro de unos minutos bautizaremos a Alejandro David y a Leonardo Saúl, nombrándolos hijos amados de Dios.

Junto a sus padres y padrinos, haremos promesas de apoyarlos y orar por ellos en sus nuevas vidas en Cristo.

Y les daremos la bienvenida a la familia de Dios.

 

Mi oración por Ale y Leo es que siempre hagan su hogar en el amor de Dios y encuentren en  Grace un lugar de pertenencia y bienvenida.

 

Oremos.

Dios bueno y misericordioso,

te damos gracias por tu Hijo Jesús, nuestro Señor y Salvador,

quien nos llama por nuestro nombre y nos da la bienvenida a casa, en tu amor.

Ayúdanos a escuchar siempre tu voz y a seguirte.

Oramos en el nombre de Jesús.

Amén.

[I] Malcolm Guite. ‘I Am The Door Of The Sheepfold’. https://malcolmguite.wordpress.com/tag/sheepfold/, accessed 4/25/26.

Psalm 23

John 10:1-11

Let us pray…

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen. 

 

You may remember that often this fourth Sunday of Easter is called “Good Shepherd Sunday” and our readings connect us to Scripture that tell us how the Lord is our Shepherd.

 

In John’s Gospel today, Jesus says, “I am the gate for the sheep.” (v. 7) and then just a few verses later, he says, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” (v. 11) We can recognize that these are two of the seven “I AM” statements Jesus makes in this gospel – statements that tell us something about his identity as our Lord and Savior, and his relationship to us and all humanity.

 

Malcolm Guite, a poet and Anglican priest, describes the life of a first century shepherd and provides insight into our gospel text. According to him, a village would have had a common or shared sheepfold. The households would have shared the shelter, and it would have protected the sheep from the worst of the elements. Each morning the shepherds would go to that fold, a paid gatekeeper who had watched the flocks at night would open the gate and the shepherds would lead their flocks out to graze.

 

But quickly, any pasture in the immediate area would be worn away and each day the shepherds would have to lead their flocks farther afield, traveling to higher and more distant pastures. Eventually they would have walked to places more than a day’s journey away and the flock and shepherd would have had to sleep outdoors.

In those places, archeologists have found rock rings, like this one 

with walls high enough to keep the sheep from leaving the fold, and an opening that lets them in or out. But these structures didn’t have doors or gates, so the shepherd would lay down in the opening, and quite literally become the door

through which any wolf, thief or bandit would have to pass to enter the sheepfold, 

and through which the sheep would have to pass to leave.

 

With that understanding, we can hear this text anew. 

 

When Jesus talks about the gatekeeper opening the gate, we can picture the noisy activity of the morning as the sheep wait to hear their shepherd’s voice, distinct from all the others.

 

Jesus says, “He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.” (v. 3b)

 

And then when the disciples still didn’t understand him, Jesus tries again. This time, he talks about the sheep who have followed the shepherd into the high pasture. There isn’t a gatekeeper there. It’s just the shepherd and the flock. And whatever dangers or threats they encounter along the way. Gathering his sheep within the rustic fold when night falls, the shepherd now literally becomes the gate, protecting them, keeping them safe and warding off any intruders or threats.

 

Jesus says, “I am the gate for the sheep.” (v. 7) and then just a few verses later, he says, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” (v. 11)

 

The shepherd isn’t only a caretaker or a companion. 

The shepherd is the one who 

leads the sheep to refreshment and nourishment; 

protects the sheep from enemies or evil,

laying down his life that the sheep may find rest and peace. 

 

That is Jesus for us.

He leads us through life and invites us into stillness.

Jesus guides our steps and waits on us to follow him.

And Jesus, in his death on the cross, literally laid down his life for us.

In dying and in rising, 

Jesus assures us that death does not get the last word. 

God is always going ahead of us, leading us and protecting us.

 

Guite, who I mentioned earlier, wrote the following poem as he reflected on Jesus being the Gate or Door to the Sheepfold: [I]

 

Not one that’s gently hinged or deftly hung,

Not like the ones you planed at Joseph’s place,

Not like the well-oiled openings that swung

So easily for Pilate’s practiced pace,

Not like the ones that closed in Mary’s face

From house to house in brimming Bethlehem,

Not like the one that no man may assail,

The dreadful curtain, The forbidding veil

That waits your breaking in Jerusalem.

 

Not one you made but one you have become:

Load-bearing, balancing, a weighted beam

To bridge the gap, to bring us within reach

Of your high pasture. Calling us by name,

You lay your body down across the breach,

Yourself the door that opens into home.

 

I love two parts of those verses especially. First is that Jesus calls each one of us by name, and second is that, as Guite writes, Jesus is “the door that opens into home.” 

 

Naming is a powerful way of showing someone they are seen and known and loved, and welcoming someone provides belonging.

 

In a few minutes we will baptize Alejandro David and Leonardo Saúl, naming them beloved children of God. 

Alongside their parents and godparents, we will make promises to support them and pray for them in their new lives in Christ. 

And we will welcome them into the family of God. 

 

My prayer for Ale and Leo is that they will always make their home in God’s love and find Grace a place of belonging and welcome.

 

Let us pray.

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for your Son Jesus, our Lord and Savior, 

Who calls us by name and welcomes us home, into your love.

Help us always hear your voice and follow you.

We pray in Jesus’ name.

Amen.

[i] Malcolm Guite. ‘I Am The Door Of The Sheepfold’. https://malcolmguite.wordpress.com/tag/sheepfold/, accessed 4/25/26.

Third Sunday of Easter

Luke 24:13-35
Acts 2:14, 36 - 41
1 Peter 1:17-23

For all of us who appreciate measured, linear timelines, 
consider this fair warning:
today’s texts suspend time. 
They also have us listening in on intimate conversations, 
hearing speeches 
and reading someone else’s mail. 
 
The gospel takes place on Easter evening, 
on the way to a village outside Jerusalem, 
before the resurrection appearances that we heard about last Sunday in John’s Gospel. 
For us today on the third Sunday of Easter, 
we need to re-locate ourselves in time, 
back to that first night, on the Day of Resurrection.
 

On that Easter evening, 
Jesus appears to two of his followers
who are walking along and talking 
about what they had heard and seen earlier in the day. 
When Jesus joins them, they don’t recognize him, 
but they’re friendly, and they talk with him.
 
What catches my attention first is that they speak with someone, 
whom they think is a stranger, about the day’s events. 
 
I wonder, why were they free to move about, 
to travel 
and to talk openly? 
when John tells us 
other disciples were hiding behind locked doors, 
afraid to be overheard or seen?
 
Luke tells us that as the two continue along their way, 
still oblivious to who Jesus is, 
he interprets the scriptures to them. 
 
I don’t know about you, but when I meet someone I don’t know, 
I ask questions, like
what’s your name? 
where are you from? 
who might we know in common? 
 
But if the two asked any questions, Luke doesn’t tell us. 
All Luke says is that they listen to Jesus teach, and 
they still don’t recognize him.
 
The two urge Jesus, who appears to plan to continue his journey, 
to stop and stay with them and they invite him to share their meal.
 
And it’s there, in the meal, 
as Jesus takes the bread, blesses it, breaks it and gives it to them, that at last, they recognize him.
 
As quickly as we learn that they know who Jesus is, 
Luke tells us he vanishes from them.
 
While we know that isn’t the end of the story, all Luke tells us today is that the two return to Jerusalem and testify to the other disciples, telling them what had happened.

 
The lectionary reading from Acts is part of Peter’s speech following the events of Pentecost, 
events we haven’t reached yet in our Easter season but, in short, Peter is addressing his fellow Jews and contrasting the human actions that crucified Christ and the divine actions by God that raised him from death. 
 
We hear members of the crowd interrupt Peter, 
asking him and the other apostles, 
“What should we do?”
 
While the two in Emmaus recognized Jesus as Lord in the meal that they shared, 
here in Jerusalem, 
it is as if the crowd’s ears are finally able to hear the truth, 
or perhaps, as in Paul’s story of conversion later in Acts, 
scales fall from their eyes, and they see clearly now that 
Jesus is Lord and Messiah. (see Acts 9:18)

 
The epistle we have for today is also attributed to Peter. In it, the author is writing to churches in Asia Minor – what is modern day Turkey - churches that were planted during Peter’s missionary journeys there. 

 
Like Paul’s letters, this letter would have been circulated among the faith communities there. Its message is that “Believers have reasons for hope… because Christ is raised and living, and God is at work in the world.” (“Summary of First Peter”, enterthebible.org, Luther Seminary) A little earlier in the letter, the author tells the churches to prepare for action, because of the grace Christ brings. (v. 13)
  
Throughout these Scriptures we hear Jesus is Lord and Messiah, 
and we hear how he is on the move.
 

The disciples in Emmaus, the crowds in Jerusalem and the churches in Asia Minor didn’t keep the Good News of the Risen Christ to themselves, or we wouldn’t be here today 
to celebrate that Jesus is risen and alive. 
 
In the same way, 
we are being called to testify to the ways God is still at work 
in the world through Christ, and through the Church,
and we are being called to follow Jesus into new places, 
and new ways of being community. 
 
Resurrection faith remembers what God has already done in Christ and sets our hope in God’s ongoing work in, through and among us, today and into the future.
 
Let us pray.
Holy God, 
Thank you for Jesus, our Lord and Messiah,
for his saving grace for each of us,
and for the ways he meets us where we are 
and urges us to new places, 
and new ways of being Your people.
Open our ears to hear Your Word and follow Jesus where he leads.
We pray in Jesus’ name.
Amen. 

El Segundo Domingo de Pascua

Juan 20:19-31

I first preached this sermon in Spanish; the English translation is below.

Oremos…

Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestros corazones sean agradables a tus ojos, Señor, nuestra fortaleza y nuestro redentor. Amén.

El viernes por la noche, desde mi sala, vi cómo los cuatro astronautas a bordo de la cápsula Orión amerizaban en el Océano Pacífico, a unas millas de la costa de California. Con su regreso seguro a la Tierra, ellos y sus compañeros completaron el primer vuelo tripulado a la Luna desde mil novecientos setenta y dos.

No recuerdo el programa espacial original. El primer alunizaje del Apolo fue en mil novecientos sesenta y nueve, el año anterior a mi nacimiento. Escuché las grabaciones de audio y vi las imágenes del alunizaje del Apolo Once cuando lo estudié en la escuela o visité el Museo Nacional del Aire y el Espacio en Washington, D.C.

Vi la explosión del transbordador espacial Challenger en mil novecientos ochenta y seis y, como cualquier persona que recuerde esa tragedia, contuve la respiración mientras veía el exitoso lanzamiento de la nave espacial Artemis Dos a principios de este mes.

En la Costa Espacial de Florida y en otros lugares, la gente se reunió para “fiestas de observacion” para ver el lanzamiento, como hacemos con los eclipses solares y los fuegos artificiales. Durante esos pocos minutos, nos unimos, compartiendo la alegría por el éxito de la colaboración y la innovación que habia ocurrido, la ilusión por el futuro y el suspiro colectivo que exhalamos cuando la nave espacial desapareció de la vista sin que se produjeran problemas aparentes.

Y sin embargo, hay quienes no creen que el programa espacial sea real. Dicen que los alunizajes nunca ocurrieron. Piensan que los relatos de audio y video fueron montados, como en u set de una película.

Están llenos de incredulidad y no se dejan convencer con la verdad.

Ciertamente, la historia puede revisarse y los eventos importantes pueden exagerarse o minimizarse según la perspectiva de quien los cuenta,

pero yo nunca he dudado de estos relatos. He visto las pruebas. Tenemos grabaciones de audio, fotografías y grabaciones de televisión,

tenemos los testimonios de primera mano de los propios astronautas, testigos de todo lo sucedido.

Lo cual me lleva al evangelio de hoy.

Es el mismo evangelio que escuchamos cada año en este segundo domingo de Pascua, y aunque se le ha llamado erróneamente la historia de “Tomás el incrédulo”, creo que es una historia sobre la creer.

Juan el Evangelista nos cuenta que, tras la resurrección de Jesús, los discípulos estaban encerrados en una casa por miedo a los líderes religiosos que habian matado a Jesùs.

Cuando Jesús, resucitado, se les apareció allí,

sin que las puertas cerradas lo detengan,

y les dice: “La paz sea con ustedes”.

Jesús les mostró las heridas en sus manos y en su costado, y luego repitió su promesa, diciendo, “La paz sea con ustedes” por segunda vez.

Cuando todo esto sucede, Tomás no está presente. Quizás recuerden a Tomás de un pasaje anterior del evangelio de Juan. Está con los demás discípulos cuando Jesús les dice que pronto se irá, y cuando Jesús les afirma que ellos saben el camino al lugar al que va, Tomás interviene diciendo: “Señor, no sabemos a dónde vas. ¿Cómo podemos saber el camino?”. (14:4-5)

Tomás es uno de los discípulos que no teme hablar con franqueza ni hacer preguntas.

Nunca llegamos a saber dónde estuvo Tomás la semana anterior. Es importante destacar que no estuvo encerrado. Quizás estaba recogiendo provisiones.

Quizás estaba tomando una siesta en algún lugar. Quizás estaba escuchando lo que la gente en las calles de Jerusalén decía sobre los recientes acontecimientos.

No podemos saberlo. Lo que Juan sí nos dice es que cuando Tomás oye el relato de los otros discípulos, quiere ver las mismas pruebas que ellos vieron.

Y Jesús se las muestra. No lo regaña ni lo castiga por pedir lo que los demás ya han recibido. En cambio, Jesús lo invita a convertirse en pistos, es decir, uno que cree.

Y en este evangelio, creer no es un asentimiento intelectual. Es relación.

Jesús invita a Tomás a una relación más profunda con él, y Tomás responde: «¡Señor mío y Dios mío!» (20:28).

Y, por supuesto, la historia de Tomás no termina allí, en Jerusalén.

La tradición cristiana dice que el apóstol Tomás viajó a lo que hoy es Turquía, donde fundó la Iglesia del Oriente, que luego se extendió a la India, el sur de Asia y el Medio Oriente.

Reflexionando sobre la historia de Tomás, ¿podemos escuchar la invitación de Jesús a una relación más profunda con él?

¿Podemos responder a Jesús, como lo hizo Tomás, con nuestras vidas, con nuestras manos y con nuestros pies para servirle?

¿Podemos compartir quién es nuestro Señor y Salvador y por qué “Jesús ha resucitado” no es solo una frase para el Domingo de Pascua, sino todos los días?

¿Podemos decirles a los demás por qué es importante que aquel a quien Dios envió para traer la salvación al mundo venció la muerte y a los poderes y principados de este mundo para darnos vida a todos nosotros?

Hemos escuchado a los testigos y, en diferentes momentos de nuestro mundo y de nuestras vidas, hemos sido testigos del poder de Dios.

¿Qué más necesitamos para proclamar y vivir con Jesús como nuestro Señor y Salvador?

Oremos.

Dios bueno y misericordioso,
te damos gracias por tu Hijo Jesús,
nuestro Señor y Salvador.
Danos el valor de Tomás para hacer preguntas
y para ser discípulos que respondan con sus vidas
para servirte.
Oramos en el nombre de Jesús.
Amén.

John 20:19-31

Friday night I watched from my living room as the four astronauts aboard the Orion capsule splashed down into the Pacific Ocean a few miles off the coast of California. With their safe return to Earth, they and their colleagues completed the first crewed flight to the moon since 1972.
 
I have no memory of the original space program. The first Apollo landing was in 1969, the year before I was born.  I heard the audio recordings and saw the visual images from the Apollo 11 lunar landing when I studied it in school or visited the Air and Space Museum in Washington, DC.
 
I watched the Challenger space shuttle explode in 1986 and, like anyone else who remembers that tragedy, I held my breath while I watched the Artemis II spacecraft successfully launch earlier this month.
 
On the Space Coast of Florida and in other places, people gathered for “watch parties”, like we do for solar eclipses and fireworks. For those few minutes, we were united, sharing our joy at the success of the collaboration and innovation that had happened, our excitement for the future, and the collective breath we exhaled when the spacecraft soared out of sight and no obvious problems occurred.
 
And yet, there are people who do not believe that the space program is real. They say the lunar landings never happened. They think the audio and visual accounts were staged, like a movie set. They are filled with disbelief and cannot be convinced of the truth.
 
Certainly, history can be revised, and important events can be exaggerated or diminished depending on the perspective of the person telling the story,
but I have never doubted these accounts. I have seen the evidence. We have audio recordings, photographs and television broadcast footage,
we have the first-hand accounts of the astronauts themselves, witnesses to all that happened.
 
Which brings me to today’s gospel.
 
It’s the same gospel we hear every year on this second Sunday of Easter and while it has been misnamed the story of “Doubting Thomas”, I think it is a story about believing.
 
John the Evangelist tells us that following Jesus’ resurrection, the disciples were locked in a house because they were afraid of the religious leaders who had killed Jesus
when the risen Jesus appears to them there,
undeterred by the locked doors, 
and saying, “Peace be with you”.
Jesus shows them the wounds on his hands and in his side and then repeats his assurance, saying “Peace be with you” a second time.
 
When all this takes place, Thomas is not there. You may remember Thomas from earlier in John’s gospel. He is with the other disciples when Jesus tells them he will be leaving them, and when Jesus says they know the way to the place where he is going, Thomas speaks up, saying, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” (14:4-5)
Thomas is one disciple who isn’t afraid to speak directly and ask questions.
 
We never do learn where Thomas was the previous week. Importantly, he was not behind locked doors. Maybe he was gathering provisions. Maybe he was taking a nap somewhere. Maybe he was listening to what people on the streets of Jerusalem were saying about the recent events.
 
We can’t know. What John does tell us is that when Thomas hears the report of the other disciples, he wants to see the same evidence they saw.
 
And Jesus shows him. He doesn’t scold Thomas or chastise him for asking for what the others have already received. Instead, Jesus invites him to become pistos - one who believes.
 
And in this gospel, belief isn’t intellectual assent. It is relationship.
 
Jesus invites Thomas into a deeper relationship with him, and Thomas responds with, “My Lord and my God!” (20:28)
 
And, of course, Thomas’ story doesn’t end there in Jerusalem.  Christian tradition says that the apostle Thomas traveled to modern-day Turkey where he began the Church of the East which then spread to India, southern Asia, and the Middle East.
 
Reflecting on Thomas’ story this way, can we hear Jesus’ invitation to deeper relationship with him for ourselves?
 
Can we respond to Jesus, like Thomas did, with our lives and with our hands and feet to serve him?
 
Can we share who our Lord and Savior is and why “Jesus is Risen” isn’t just something to say on Easter Sunday, but every day?
 
Can we tell others why it matters that the one whom God sent to bring salvation to the world defeated death and the powers and principalities of this world to bring life to us all?
 
We have heard the witnesses and at different times in our world and our lives, we ourselves have witnessed God’s power.
What more do we need to proclaim and live with Jesus as our Lord and Savior?
 
Let us pray.
Good and gracious God,
We give you thanks for your Son Jesus,
our Lord and Savior.
Give us the courage of Thomas to ask questions
And to be disciples who respond with our lives
to serve you.
We pray in Jesus’ name.
Amen.

Easter Sunday

Matthew 28:1-10

Acts 10:34-43

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!

(Christ is Risen Indeed! Alleluia!)

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and our risen Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

As throughout his Gospel, Matthew’s resurrection story proclaims God’s power in Jesus

as the One who fulfills Scripture

and comes into the world as the Messiah.

He tells this part of the story in a way that emphasizes God’s triumph.  God has booted death out of the world. (Skinner, WP)

In the resurrection, God defeated the powers-that-be who sought to make a crucified man

executed by Roman authorities 

a nobody.

They tried to silence their enemies and, instead, the story of his death and resurrection has endured for more than two millennia.  (Skinner, WP)

 

Matthew tells us the women who saw the stone rolled away were filled with fear, but also with great joy when they heard the angel’s declaration that Jesus was not there.

He invites them to come and see, and then to go and tell.

And they did!

They ran to tell the other disciples the world-changing news that they had seen and heard.

“That first announcement to the disciples became a continuous chain of announcements with one messenger repeating the message to the next, down through the ages.” (Jacobson, WP)

We can imagine their words to their friends:

“Alleluia! Christ is Risen!”

(Christ is Risen Indeed! Alleluia!) 

Instead of the despair of death,

the empty tomb prompts our praise and worship

of God’s saving power,

and as always,

our salvation - God’s saving action for us - invites our response:

to follow Jesus, to listen to him and be obedient to him.

As disciples or followers of Jesus, our obedience is our response to the Good News that we are God’s own children, saved by grace, through Christ.

In Acts, Peter retells the story of these last three days and reminds us that when the disciples went to Galilee and met Jesus after the resurrection, Jesus commanded them to preach and testify, telling everyone about Jesus and the forgiveness of sins that we receive through his name.

The Great Commission to his disciples is: 

Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. 

Our Lenten theme here at Grace was “Listen Up”.

As we heard the gospel stories of Jesus in the wilderness, Nicodemus, the woman at the well, the man born blind, and Lazarus, we listened for what God was saying to and through each of them.

We reflected on how they encountered God

and how it changed them.

We listened for what God was saying to each of us

through their stories.

On Wednesdays, gathered in the fellowship hall,

we shared our stories of faith

and how we are changed by God’s transformational love for us.

And then during this Holy Week,

on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday,

we listened again to the words of Jesus,

first commanding his disciples to love one another,

and then speaking to us from the cross.

 

Today we celebrate that Jesus is Risen and

like the disciples who witnessed his resurrection,

we are invited to go and tell others what God has done.

 

Tell others how God has worked in your life,

to bring new understanding;

Tell how God has seen you

when you have felt cast out or overlooked;

 

Tell how you have witnessed God’s healing

in body or spirit;

 

Tell how you have witnessed God restore

relationships and belonging in a community;

 

Or tell how you are waiting on God,

trusting in the promise that Jesus gives us in the Great Commission,

that he is with us “to the very end of the age.”

 

God commands us to be God’s witnesses to the world.

This Easter and always,

let God’s love be shown and God’s name be known through you.

Let us pray.

Risen and Living God,

Thank you for the salvation

we receive through Your Son Jesus.

Show us how to be witnesses to your love

And tell others how your love for us changes us.

Send us out to go and tell

That everyone would know

your abundant grace and mercy.

We pray in Jesus’ name.

Amen.

 

Fifth Sunday in Lent

John 11:1-45

One of the ways we teach how to read Scripture is to read it in four contexts; that is, to read (1) as a devotion, paying attention to what the text says about my relationship to God and who I am as a child of God and a person of faith;

(2) as a historical text that has something to say about the time and place and audience to whom it is addressed, being attentive to what those details teach us;

(3) as literature, noticing what the author is doing and what kind of writing it is. Remembering the Bible is a library of 66 books, we can expect to find different kinds of writing in it;

(4) and finally, because we are Lutheran, how do we relate our Lutheran theology and teaching to the Scripture; for example, where do we see both law and gospel and how does the text point to who Christ is for us as a community of faith?

I say all this because as we begin this fifth week of Lent, I hear the stories of Ezekiel prophesying to the dry bones and of Jesus calling to Lazarus in his tomb differently than I have in the past.

While I’m familiar with the image of breath being blown into dry bones, I hadn’t thought about how significant it was that the prophecy was spoken to the exilic people living in Babylon.

And, while I knew that in John’s Gospel, the raising of Lazarus was a catalyst for the religious leaders wanting to kill Jesus, I hadn’t read the story of Lazarus as a foreshadowing of the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus.

Reading the texts again this time was a good reminder that every time we hear the living Word of God, we are different from the last time and God continues to speak through it in new and fresh ways.

 

So, let’s start with Ezekiel.

Unlike some of the other prophets who were warning Israel and Judah to repent before their destruction, Ezekiel is speaking to the community now living in exile in Babylon. His listeners are living in the throes of upheaval, death and hope-lessness.

And we hear God say, “[The whole house of Israel says], “Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.”

But the Lord God says to them: “I am going to open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, and I will bring you back to the land of Israel.”

They are in deep mourning, but it is not without hope because God is there.

 

Similarly, in John’s Gospel,

when Jesus goes to the village where Lazarus had lived with his sisters Mary and Martha,

he hears Martha’s anger and he sees Mary,

and the other Jews who are with her,

weeping because Lazarus is dead.

Traditional Judaism teaches that the soul stays near the body for three days after death, but by the time Jesus arrives, Lazarus has been in the tomb four days, leaving no doubt that he was dead.

Jesus’s first response is, like God’s response to the exiles, a statement of promise.

He says to Martha, “I AM the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they died, will live…” 

In Jesus, there is life, even when what we see is death.

We can, like the Israelites and like Martha, Mary and their friends, grieve deeply for what we have lost, but our mourning is not without hope, because God is there with us.

Importantly, even as we recognize the meaning of these stories in their historical time and place, we hear God’s promises for us today.

The Scriptures give us permission

to lament the things that cause us sadness and pain, and 
grieve our losses and the deaths we experience.

We are invited to name the ways we feel like we are beyond God’s reach and when we feel like God is distant and unresponsive.

We are encouraged to employ rigorous honesty and name that there are “times of life that really suck” and despair overshadows hope.

And we are reminded to wait on God’s redeeming action,
confident that God will fulfill God’s promises.

When Jesus makes his “I AM” statement to Martha, he is saying that in Him, even those things that were dead can be redeemed.

That is the promise we receive in the Resurrection, right?

Death does not get the final word. Our God is an active, life-giving God who conquers death.

In these stories, Israel and Lazarus are exposed. For the exiles and for the dead man, their separation from God is visible and public, but often I think we hide what is dying.

Do we think God doesn’t know us and see us?

That God cannot be trusted to restore what is life-giving?

In this fifth week of Lent,

I wonder

how are we cut off from God or feel like we’re beyond God’s reach?

what is the tomb Jesus is calling each of us out of?

what deaths have we experienced that we need to trust God to redeem?

In Lazarus, we witness this redemptive and life-giving power when Jesus commands the man who has been entombed four days:

“Lazarus, come out!”

But God’s work employs our hands. John tells us that when the dead man emerges from his tomb, he is still bound, and Jesus orders the crowd of witnesses, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

If Lazarus had come out and been ostracized or shunned by his family and neighbors, the story might have had a different outcome.

Remember the Jewish laws that prohibited touching dead bodies? We talked about these rules when we studied the story of the Good Samaritan a couple of Wednesday nights ago.

If the people who saw Lazarus emerge had not risked being rejected themselves as ritually unclean,

Lazarus would have remained bound,

just like he was inside the tomb.

Jesus shows us that

the freedom we gain in Christ is not solitary, and

new life is nurtured by relationships

and sustained in community.

As we continue in Lent toward Jerusalem and the events of Holy Week

when we will again witness God’s redemptive action in Jesus Christ,

I pray we will place ourselves in God’s loving care,

trusting in God’s promise to restore us to life and

to plant us in places where we nurture and sustain our faith and lives in Christ. 

Amen.

El Tercer Domingo de Cuaresma

Juan 4:5-42

I first preached this sermon in Spanish; the English translation is below.

Oremos…
Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestros corazones sean aceptables ante ti, Señor, fortaleza y redentor nuestro. Amén.
 
Ayer por la mañana, estaba en mi estudio en casa cuando oí que se abría la puerta y dos voces en el porche. Nuestros perros empezaron a ladrar y alguien toco la puerta. En lugar de responder, le envié un mensaje a Jamie, que estaba afuera en su garaje, y le pregunté si esperaba a alguien. Dijo que no. Me quedé en mi escritorio y finalmente oí que las voces se alejaban.
 
Quizás puedan adivinar lo que estaba sucediendo. Una de las congregaciones locales estaba dejando información sobre su servicio del Jueves Santo. Encontré una invitación escondida en la puerta cuando salí más tarde. Si hubiera abierto la puerta, quiza podríamos haber tenido una conversación interesante sobre Jesús, la fe y la adoración.
 
En Shelby conocí a una mujer viuda que solía sentarse a conversar con los evangelistas que llamaban a su puerta porque eran compañeros de conversación amigables y ella apreciaba ese regalo de su tiempo.
 
Cuando yo estudiaba en el ministerio universitario, solíamos recorrer los vecindarios, tocando puertas, con la esperanza de ofrecer una palabra de animo a personas que no estaban conectadas a ninguna iglesia o congregación.
 
Sin duda, ir de puerta en puerta es un modelo de evangelización.
 
Otro modelo es el que el pastor Mark guía a las personas los miércoles por la noche aquí en Grace.
 
Como quizá recuerden el momento de ministerio en el que presento nuestro tema de Cuaresma, "¡Escucha!", nos centramos en escuchar. En nuestras Escrituras durante la Cuaresma, hay una serie de conversaciones aque ocurren:
Jesús y el tentador, Jesús y Nicodemo, y esta semana, Jesús y la mujer en el pozo.
 
Cuando escuchamos bien, aprendemos algo sobre la otra persona. Aquí compartimos una historia común: la historia de Dios, pero la forma en que nos hemos encontrado con Dios es diferente para cada uno de nosotros. Puedo contar mi historia, pero también puedo aprender sobre Dios al escucharte contar la tuya.
 
Las historias de Nicodemo y la mujer en el pozo comienzan con un encuentro. Aunque los hemos escuchado durante dos semanas, su cercanía en el evangelio de Juan invita a compararlas y al debate sobre lo que comparten y sus diferencias.
 
Nicodemo, por supuesto, es hombre y se le menciona por sunnombre. Esto no siempre ocurre, y es aún más raro en el caso de las mujeres. Además, es fariseo, un líder religioso de Jerusalén. Esto significa que tiene agencia, influencia y poder.
La mujer en el pozo, por supuesto, no es un hombre. No se nos dice su nombre. Lo primero que sabemos de ella es que es samaritana. Y Juan señala que judíos y samaritanos no compartían cosas en común. Los estudiosos enfatizan que no se trata solo de que no compartieran cosas; evitaban activamente, deliberadamente y cuidadosamente estar en el mismo lugar al mismo tiempo.
 
También sabemos que la mujer se había casado cinco veces. Juan no incluye este detalle para avergonzarla ni para invitarnos a juzgarla. Es un hecho, y recordando las creencias y prácticas del Israel del primer siglo, también nos dice que probablemente habría sido considerada maldita por haber sufrido tanta pérdida. ¿Recuerdan la historia que escuchamos más tarde en Juan sobre "el hombre que nació ciego"? Incluso entonces, los discípulos le preguntan a Jesús: "¿Quién pecó, este hombre o sus padres, para que naciera ciego?".
En el mundo antiguo, ese era el entendimiento común de la enfermedad o padecimiento, la esterilidad y la aflicción; el sufrimiento debía ser el resultado de una acción pecaminosa.
 
Esta mujer, por razones que desconocemos, se había casado y separado cinco veces, ya sea por muerte o divorcio, y ahora dependía de otro hombre para sus necesidades básicas.
 
Y, sin embargo, por muy diferentes que sean estas dos personas, tanto Nicodemo como la mujer samaritana se encuentran con Jesús.
 
Nicodemo acude a él de noche, envuelto en la oscuridad. La mujer samaritana lo encuentra inesperadamente, cuando va al pozo de Jacob al mediodía, cuando el sol estaba alto y cayendo con fuerza sobre ellos
 
En el evangelio de Juan, la luz y la oscuridad son sinónimos de creencia e incredulidad.
 
Vemos cómo Nicodemo lucha por comprender y lo oímos preguntar: "¿Cómo puede ser esto?" (3:9), intentando reconciliar la verdad que Jesús ha dicho con su comprensión del mundo.
 
La muje samaritana escucha a Jesús hablar del agua viva y responde, captando la invitación en sus palabras. Pregunta: "¿De dónde sacas esa agua viva?" (4:11) y luego le pide a Jesús: "Señor, dame esa agua para que nunca más tenga sed ni tenga que venir aquí a sacarla".
 
En sentido literal, ninguna de las dos será cierta; por supuesto que volverá a tener sed y, por supuesto, seguirá necesitando ir al pozo, pero ella entiende que él no esta hablando literalmente y que le promete alivio.
 
Él le promete una relación continua con Dios, la presencia consoladora de Dios en su vida
y la Palabra de Dios a la que aferrarse cuando se siente rechazada o desesperada.
 
Y al encontrarse con Jesús, conversar con él y entablar una relación con él resulta en una transformación.
 
Juan nos habla de la mujer samaritana, que al mediodía fue al pozo a sacar agua, cuando sabe que puede evitar que hablen de ella, deja su cántaro allí y regresa a la ciudad, donde comienza a  contarle a la gente acerca de Jesús.
 
Y así, ella se convierte en la primera testigo, junto a Juan el Bautista, en este evangelio.
 
En lugar de esconderse, ahora proclama lo que Dios ha hecho en Jesús.
Y las personas a quienes se lo cuenta pasan de la indiferencia y la incredulidad a la fe.
 
Ahora ellos desean lo que ella tiene. Desean conocer a Jesús, escuchar la palabra de Dios y ser transformados. Desean dejar atrás las cargas que han llevado y ser libres para vivir en la fe en Dios.
 
Oremos.
Dios Santo, gracias por el amor transformador que nos das y por la presencia redentora de tu Hijo Jesús. Ayúdanos a escuchar tu Palabra e invitación. Muéstranos qué necesitamos dejar o soltar y cómo podemos servirte. Ayúdanos a seguirte fielmente.
Amén.

John 4:5-42

Let us pray…

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

Yesterday morning, I was in my study at home when I heard our gate open and two voices on our porch. Our dogs started barking and someone knocked on the door. Instead of answering, I texted Jamie who was outside in his garage and asked if he was expecting anyone. He said no. I stayed at my desk, and eventually heard the voices move away.

You may be able to guess what was happening. One of the local congregations was dropping off information for their Maundy Thursday worship. I found an invitation tucked into our door when I went outside later. If I’d answered the door, we might have had an interesting conversation about Jesus, faith and worship. In Shelby I knew a widowed woman who often sat and talked with the evangelists who knocked on her door because they were friendly conversation partners and she appreciated their gift of time.

When I was a student in campus ministry, we often canvased neighborhoods, knocking on doors, hoping we could offer a word of encouragement to people who weren’t connected with a church or congregation.

Certainly, going door to door is one model for evangelism.

Another model is what Pastor Mark is leading people through on Wednesday nights here at Grace.

As you may remember from his ministry moment introducing our Lenten theme, “Listen Up!” we are focused on listening. In our Scripture during Lent, there are a series of conversations happening: Jesus and the tempter, Jesus and Nicodemus, and this week, Jesus and the woman at the well.

When we listen well, we learn something about the other person. Here we share a common story - God’s story – but how we have encountered God is different for each of us. I can tell my story, but I can also learn about God by listening to you tell your story.

The stories of Nicodemus and the woman at the well begin with an encounter. While we have heard them over two weeks, their proximity in John’s gospel prompts comparison and discussion of what they share and how they are different.

Nicodemus of course is a man, and he is named. That doesn’t always happen, and it happens even more rarely for women. And he is a Pharisee, a religious leader in Jerusalem. That means he has agency, influence and power.

The woman at the well of course is not a man. We are not told her name. What we know about her is first that she is a Samaritan. And John makes the point that Jews and Samaritans did not share things in common. Scholars emphasize it’s more than just that they didn’t share things in common; they would have actively, deliberately and carefully avoided being in the same place at the same time.

We also know that the woman has been married five times. John doesn’t include this detail to shame the woman and invite us to judge her. It’s a fact and remembering the beliefs and practices of first century Israel, it also tells us that she would likely have been considered cursed to have suffered so much loss. Remember the story we hear later from John about “the man born blind”? Even then the disciples ask Jesus,

“Who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

In the ancient world, that was the common understanding of illness or disease, barrenness and affliction – the suffering must have been the result of sinful action.

This woman, for reasons we cannot know, had been married and separated either by death or divorce five times, and now was dependent on yet another man for her basic needs.

And yet, as different as each person is,

both Nicodemus and the Samaritan woman encounter Jesus.

Nicodemus goes to him at night, cloaked in darkness. The Samaritan woman meets him unexpectedly, when she goes to Jacob’s well at noon, when the sun was high overhead and beating down on them.

In John’s gospel, light and dark are synonyms for belief and unbelief.

We see how Nicodemus struggles to understand and we hear him ask “How can this be?” (3:9), trying to reconcile the truth Jesus has spoken with his understanding of the world.

The Samaritan woman listens to Jesus talking about living water and responds, hearing the invitation in his words. She asks, “Where do get that living water?” (4:11) and then asks Jesus, “Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.”

In a literal sense, neither of those will be true; of course, she will become thirsty and of course, she will continue to need to go to the well,

but she understands he is not speaking literally,

and she understands

he is promising her relief.

He is promising her continued relationship with God,

the comforting presence of God in her life

and God’s Word to hold onto when she is rejected or despairing.

And encountering Jesus, engaging in conversation with him and entering into relationship results in transformation.

John tells us the Samaritan woman

who has come at noon to the well to draw water

when she knows she can avoid people talking about her,

leaves her bucket there and goes back to the city,

where she begins telling people about Jesus.

And so,

she becomes the first witness,

besides John the baptizer,

in this gospel.

Instead of hiding she is now proclaiming what God has done in Jesus.

And the people she tells move from disregard and disbelief to belief.

They now want what she has. They want to meet Jesus and listen to God’s word and be changed. They want to leave behind the burdens they have carried and be freed to live in faith in God.

Let us pray.

Holy God,

Thank you for the transforming love you give us,

and for the redeeming presence of your Son Jesus

Help us listen to your Word and invitation.

Show us what we need to put down or let go and

and how we can serve you.

Help us follow you faithfully.

Amen.