Author: MASadmin

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

”I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you. In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.”

John 14:15-21

My sermon from the 6th Sunday of Easter (May 17, 2020) on John 14:15-21.

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So if I counted correctly, this is our 11th Sunday, in a row, where we are worshipping together online and over the phone. Now that’s pretty incredible because when we stopped gathering together in person as a way to keep ourselves and our neighbors safe, we had no idea how long our being apart would take. At the time, way back on March 15th, we were hopeful it would only last a few weeks. But those few weeks have turned into a few months and we’re still not sure when we will be able to safely gather together again in person. Now over these last 11 weeks, you’ve done amazing things. You’ve washed your hands more than you’ve ever done before. You’re wearing masks everytime you go out. You’re donating money and resources to all sorts of non-profits and food pantries. And you keep making phone calls, saying your prayers, and giving your time, talent, and money to your faith community. I know you’re not up to all those things, every day, but you continue to be God’s people in the world – even when you’re just not feeling it. We all want things to go back to normal – yet – you’ve already started living into a new normal – one that might still make us uncomfortable – but one that truly responds to Jesus’ call to love God and our neighbors. If, over these last 11 weeks, you’ve felt like you haven’t been doing much, I want to affirm that you actually have – because you’ve made adjustments in your life to help keep love at the center of who you are. 

So as we think back to where we were over 11 weeks ago – and reflect on the plans we made for ourselves right when this shutdown happened – were there any goals that you made back then that ended up being sort of hard to accomplish? For example, maybe there’s a pile of books on your nightstand that you’ve been meaning to read for months and so you made a promise to yourself that they were going to be read by now. How’s that plan going? 

Or maybe you decided to learn a new language or clean those untouched junk drawers in your kitchen, or maybe you signed-up for a daily aerobics class over Zoom? You promised yourself that your time at home would be “productive.” So how productive have you been? 

Or maybe you choose to focus on staying mentally well during this time apart. You made a promise to yourself not to read too much news, to only look at instagram once a day, and to eat well and exercise as a way to live through the constant anxiety and worry and frustration we’re all experiencing. How has staying mentally healthy gone for you so far? 

When I look back at the goals I made for myself prior to our first online-only worship service on March 15th, I’m not sure quite sure how to put into words exactly what I’m feeling. Because none of those goals were, necessarily, wrong or bad or silly. But they were goals that didn’t really understand what the next chapter of my life would be like. We knew, I think, that life would be different but we didn’t realize how different. And as we reflect on where we’ve been and what we’ve done, these past 11 weeks might feel a little empty. Or maybe super full – but full of none of the things that you expected or planned for. The downtime we expected to have when we stopped gathering together wasn’t really downtime at all. Because we were busy, consciously or unconsciously, making shifts in our life to just survive. That survival meant that we became teachers or learned how to manage parents-and-students over zoom, email, and conference call. That survival meant that we figured out new places to find toilet paper and which food pantries were still taking donations and giving out food. That survival meant finding new ways to connect to each other, especially if we live alone. And that survival meant that we still don’t really know how to balance everything that’s swirling within us – because we’re living through a lot of change we didn’t plan for and that we don’t want. That doesn’t mean we didn’t find moments of joy and laughter and kindness during these last 11 Sundays. But it does mean that this is still hard – and it will keep being hard – until a vaccine of some kind is found and made widely available. There might be a lot of promises that you made to yourself over these last 11 weeks that you haven’t fully kept. And that might be because promises are hard – especially when we’re living through something we never expected in the first place. 

Once again, our reading today from the gospel according to John, is Jesus’ attempt to prepare his disciples for what’s next. He gathered them together to share a meal, to wash their feet, and spent three chapters trying to talk to them about what was about to come. The disciples had heard Jesus talk about the various promises that God had made to them. But they had, at the same time, not really realized the promises about God’s promises that they made to themselves. When Jesus healed the sick, casted out demons, and displayed all those signs of God’s kingdom coming near – the promise they internalized from their experience of Jesus – was one that couldn’t live through the Cross. To them, Jesus was powerful; he was strong, mighty, and above all things. There was nothing on earth, they believed, that could withstand the one who even raised Lazarus from the dead. The disciples couldn’t really imagine that Jesus would experience a complete human life – one that included betrayal, sadness, hurt, and even death. As Jesus taught and proclaimed God’s promise of love in the world – the disciples made a promise to themselves that Jesus was full of power and all they needed was to stay with him. They heard the words Jesus said; they experienced his presence in the world; but the promises they made to themselves about what being with Jesus was all about – were promises that needed to be broken. The disciples couldn’t love God and the world like they should if they stayed locked onto promises that would die, like Jesus, on the Cross. 

So Jesus, then, made his own promise – one that didn’t depend on how talented or faithful the disciples were. He told them that, no matter what, they would never be alone. The Holy Spirit, God’s love active in the world, would envelop them, filling them a love that would never end. The “if” at the start of verse 15 isn’t meant to sound conditional, as if Jesus’ love for us depends on our choosing of him. Rather, the “if” is wrapped up in a bigger promise – rooted in the relationship Jesus has already gifted to us. Through our baptism and through the gift of faith, Jesus made himself a part of who we are. We get to love ourselves and others like Jesus does because the Spirit lets us focus on the promises that carry us through all of life’s unexpected moments. These promises let us be honest about our current reality and how hard things are. Yet these promises also proclaim good news  – because you are loved. There might be a lot of promises that we continue to make during this pandemic that we will struggle to keep. But we will also choose to lean into the promise Jesus has already given to us. Let that promise of love and hope – invite you to make different kinds of promises to yourselves and to the world; promises that help you love yourself and that give grace to your neighbors, family, and friends. It’s okay if you never read all those books on your nightstand and if your junk drawers are still full of junk once we gather together again in person – because the Holy Spirit is already keeping you grounded in the eternal promise: and God’s love is with you – even now. 

Amen. 

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also.

And you know the way to the place where I am going.” Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you know me, you will know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him.” Philip said to him, “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own; but the Father who dwells in me does his works. Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves.

Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.

John 14:1-14

My sermon from 5th Sunday of Easter (May 10, 2020) on John 14:1-14.

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So, one of the things you might not know about me is that I am a manuscript preacher. And a manuscript preacher writes out pretty much everything they’re going to say. Usually, when I’m in the sanctuary, you can watch me scroll through my iPad as I keep track of where I am in my sermon. But right now – I’m staring at you – and there’s no there’s no manuscript or piece of paper or ipad in sight. That doesn’t mean I’ve changed my preaching style. Rather, I’m using a teleprompter – one that I made out of an old iPad, a broken picture frame, some cardboard, and a lot of duct tape. Through the magic of technology, you can’t see the words as they scroll automatically down the screen. But if you watch my eyes closely, you might see them jump around quickly – and that’s a sign I’ve lost my place and I’m trying to catch up. Now there are times when I might change a word or add a sentence as I preach – but I pretty much rely on a manuscript to bring this word to you. Not every preacher needs a manuscript and there are days when I wish a few bullet points and an outline was all I needed. But for me, a manuscript does more than just help me stay on track. It also provides an opportunity for me to stay grounded in this moment. As I write, I have to read and refine and edit everything that I type. I need to do work on the text to make it sound at least somewhat understandable. Yet that working on the text – is also a moment for the text to work on me. And the text is always bigger than just the words appearing on the teleprompter’s screen. The text also includes whatever the Holy Spirit is revealing to us through the words Jesus just spoke. Those words aren’t always easy to hear because they could be challenging or upsetting or just hard to comprehend. But they also might be hard to hear because we’re not really grounded in this moment. Last week, I invited all the children of God to play the silent game with me – even though we were doing it through our screens. Now I don’t know what happened at your house – but at mine – the silent game really didn’t happen. There were too many action figures to play with, a cat busy chasing a bright red ping pong ball around the room, and multiple computer devices and screens working so that I could bring the worship to you. There are times when the noise we’re living through makes Jesus’ words physically hard to hear. 

But there’s also all the other stuff that we bring to this moment even though we’re just sitting on the couch or staring at our phone as we walk to the kitchen to grab our second breakfast. It’s that nagging feeling of anxiety as we worry about what’s going to happen next. It’s the feeling that we’re missing out on stuff because this pandemic is making us live in ways we don’t want to. And it’s all the stuff that makes us sad because we’ve canceled graduations, proms, our travel plans, and we can’t even visit the mothering figures in our lives on this Mother’s Day. All these emotions and feelings of worry, anxiety, and fear – all of that is also an expression of grief. We are grieving because our expectations for what this moment should be like has been undone. We don’t know when we’ll see our friends again in person or when we’ll feel safe enough to get on an airplane and visit our parents. We mourn friends and loved ones who are still sick or And for those who are living alone, the lack of actual human touch from those we care about is a cause of our grief because we can’t even get a hug from a friend. There’s a lot going on in this moment – and we might find ourselves lashing out against the people around us or even society itself. It’s easy to get mad, frustrated, and to blame everyone else for this grief that’s in our lives. And we probably are struggling putting words to the sensation that our heart, our mind, and our soul feels heavy – weighed down by all the broken expectations, broken plans, and broken promises present in our current reality. It’s hard to be truly grounded in this moment – because we’re carrying with us a lot of stuff. 

And that, I think, is what Jesus’ words today are all about. Jesus recognizes grief – and he chooses to speak a word into it. He is, in the words we just heard, gathered with his friends, sharing one last meal. They’ve broken bread, shared a drink, and Jesus has even knelt down and washed each of their feet. They’re now in the second part of their shared meal and are busy talking and sharing stories. Now, in John, Jesus is always one step ahead of everyone else. He knows where he’s been, what he’s doing, and where he’s going next. Jesus knows that Judas has just left his side, about the guide the authorities back to Jesus to arrest him. Jesus knows that the Cross is about to come and so he chooses, in this moment, speak specifically to those closest to him. We get in trouble with this passage if we forget that Jesus was speaking and responding to specific people in a specific place. His words were not meant to be taken out of context and used to define who is and who isn’t loved by God. Jesus, instead, is responding to his friends – who have a sense that their expectations are about to be undone. They realize that Jesus is saying something unsettling here – and they, filled with anxiety, begin to grieve. They don’t really understand what they’re feeling or sensing or why their hearts are suddenly heavy. All they know is that Jesus seems to be preparing them for something…and that makes them afraid. Thomas gives voice to that grief, naming that he has no idea where Jesus is going or what’s going to happen next. And if our hearts are feeling heavy right now, we shouldn’t rush through Thomas’ words. We should sit with them, ground ourselves in them, because his heaviness and our heaviness can be one and the same. Thomas’ words, I think, give voice to our moment – with all of its emotional ups and downs, complexity and nuance. Thomas realized that the direction and track he thought he was on was being derailed by actors and actions beyond his control. And in that moment, he turned towards Jesus and named his grief, admitted his fears, and asked for help. 

And so Jesus did the one thing God always does for us. He listened. He heard what Thomas was saying and he responded with a promise. But that promise didn’t say that everything would be okay or that Thomas wouldn’t have to struggle or suffer or sometimes be afraid. Nor did Jesus downplay or ignore or act as if everything Thomas was feeling was somehow silly and a sign that Thomas really didn’t believe. Instead, Jesus saw grief buckling Thomas’ heart – and so he spoke a word pointing to the love God had for him. It wasn’t the anxiety or fear that truly defined who Thomas was. Rather, it was the fact that Jesus had already claimed him as his own – and that no fear, or anxiety, or heavy heat would ever cause that to change. When the ground under Thomas shifted and every expectation and hope came undone in a giant pile of anxiety, Jesus pointed to a different kind of ground that Thomas did not create or maintain on his own. What truly grounded him was the One who is, no matter what, always with us. And that love from Christ, rooted in a life lived for all, is the truth that leads us into God’s way of love. 

If you, like me, try to find different ways to ground yourself in this pandemic moment – I invite you to ground yourself in Christ. His love for you knows no end and his boundless compassion surrounds you. The grief you feel is real – yet it is a grief that, with Christ, we can live through. Make sure, as you are able, to be like Thomas. Name your grief. Name your fears. Be honest in all the ways this situation just stinks. And then, when you are able, listen to the promise Jesus has already made to you. You are part of His body. You are one with Christ. You are defined by love – and not by fear or anxiety or sorrow. Jesus is, even now, with you. And his love for you is the ground that will never shift away from you. 

Amen.

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”
A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.

John 20:19-31

My sermon from the 2nd Sunday of Easter (April 19, 2020) on John 20:19-31.

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So in our church tradition, the Sunday after Easter is always focused on Thomas. Jesus, who is busy visiting his disciples, has just risen from the tomb and, according to John, the first person he revealed himself to is Mary Magadalene. Jesus told her to go – tell the other disciples what she had seen and heard. She’s basically the first Christian – the one who outright tells others that another chapter in her and in Jesus’ story was already being written. After telling the other disciples about her experience – they gathered together in a locked room later that evening. We can sort of imagine that those disciples were probably emotionally and spiritually and maybe even physically – processing the whirlwind of events that had just happened over those last few days. The community chose to stay close and to see how they could help one another through the experience they were currently living in. They had, for years, been with Jesus as he offered them a life centered in love and grace – and they watched as he was arrested, tried, and crucified. But now there was a new part of that story – a resurrection story – that seemed to conflict and challenge and even change the previous parts of their story that they had already lived out. Their fears and their hopes were all mixed up in a swirling mess of emotions that they were trying to figure out. Some of them, I bet, tried to talk their way through their experience but found themselves talking way too much because they couldn’t wrap their story into something neat and comfortable. And others might have been the exact opposite – sitting in silence because they didn’t have the right words to describe what they were going through. The disciples, I think, were mixed up – and that’s when Jesus took the initiative to show up. He didn’t wait until all the right people were in the room. And he didn’t wait until everyone in that space had come to terms with everything that they were feeling. Rather, while his followers all mixed up – Jesus chose to show up – because God’s grace can always hold us exactly as we are.  

Yet not everyone was there. And it was after all of that when Thomas finally showed up. It’s hard to not feel for the guy because he wasn’t in the room where everything happened. For centuries, we’ve called him Doubting Thomas because he seemed to question the validity of what his friends were telling him. And I guess, on one level, we can do that. We can call Thomas’ statement an expression of doubt. But, for me at least, I don’t really want to downplay anything Thomas said. Because, in this moment, I sometimes feel exactly like he did. All Thomas wanted was to have the same experience everyone else had. He, like all the other disciples, had followed Jesus for a while. And I imagine Thomas didn’t think of himself as being any better or any worse than any of others. Yet when Jesus showed up, Thomas wasn’t there. I’ll admit that, during this pandemic, there are days when it’s just hard to see Jesus. And the faithful words about Jesus that I hear other people say – doesn’t really match with what I’m going through. It’s hard to be on the sidelines and reconcile how some of the people I know who’ve contradict the coronavirus had no symptoms – while so many others have suffered and died. It’s hard to see if Jesus is present when so many of us have lost our jobs, been furloughed, or have seen a cut in our salary. And it’s hard to lean on Jesus when you’re worried that you might not even have the health insurance you need to live through this health crisis. I’m personally finding it very hard to listen to all the conversations about this virus “peaking” and the urge for everything to get back to the way things were. Because, to me, that seems to miss the fact that our lives have changed. We’re already looking at the world in a different way and we’re figuring out how to live differently so that we can keep ourselves and each other safe. Families have been living in fear – wondering if their loved ones are safe while at work, in the nursing home, or on their own. Some of us are going to have to live into a new normal where our beloved friends or family members are gone. And we all, I think, have already started changing how we live our lives. 

I think Thomas had already started to do that too. And so when he showed up in that room after Jesus had showed up to everyone else, his words weren’t really centered on doubt. Rather, he was telling the truth about how Jesus’ life and death had already changed how he living into the next part of his story. And what he needed in that moment – was hope. But the hope he needed wasn’t a hope that would make everything go back to the way things were. Rather, he wanted a hope that valued the life he actually lived. That meant that everything life had given him – the joys, the laughter, the fears, the tears, and even his time with Jesus – needed to be wrapped up by a hope that would not end. And I think Thomas asked for this because that’s who Jesus was to him. Jesus wasn’t just this all powerful and all amazing person who validated every previous belief and view of the world that Thomas had. Rather, Jesus lived a life that kept pointing to a new reality where God’s kingdom of love would reign. That love challenged Thomas because it forced him to live in a new way. Yet that love also gave him hope because it showed how God was willing to get into the messiness of our lives and show us that we were worth so much more. What Thomas wanted was the hope Jesus already gave to others. Because when Jesus showed up, he was still wounded. The places where the nails pierced him and the spear struck him were not wiped away or even turned into scars. What happened to him in life was still a part of him because all of Jesus mattered. And if all of Jesus’ story matter – Thomas’ story – and even our story – mattered too. Thomas asked for a hope that would be big enough to hold the entirety of his life and, somehow, transform it into something new. And then, while Thomas was living his life, Jesus showed up – because even when we can’t see it – God’s hope always remains. 

So right now, you might see Jesus pretty easily. He keeps showing up in the ways you check-in with your friends and neighbors, especially those who are elderly and those who are alone. He’s there whenever you support a food pantry, make a mask for healthcare workers, and keep your social distance when you’re at the store or outside. He’s there in the million ways you keep holding people and the world in your prayers. And I know he’s showing up through the work you’re already doing – as parents teaching and taking care of your kids; as employees working from home; as retails workers keeping shelves shocked; and as healthcare workers helping to heal everyone is sick. I know Jesus is there in the moments when you chose to love unconditionally – even when you’re not really feeling it. But it also can be hard to see Jesus – because there’s a ton of loneliness, grief, anxiety, and fears in our lives and in our world. And if you’re like me, you might be finding yourself zooming back and forth between those realities multiple times a day. None of what you’re experiencing is unfaithful. None of what you think of as doubt is somehow keeping you from Christ. Rather, he is already with you – because he has claimed you in your baptism and in your life with him. We’re not called to live as if our story or our experiences do not matter. We’re not called to offer a false hope that acts as if this moment in our lives is somehow unimportant. Rather, we are called to proclaim and to lean into a Savior who is with us through all things. And he is already here with you – writing a new chapter in your life filled with grace, light, and love. 

Amen.

The hand of the Lord came upon me, and he brought me out by the spirit of the Lord and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me all around them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry. He said to me, “Mortal, can these bones live?” I answered, “O Lord God, you know.” Then he said to me, “Prophesy to these bones, and say to them: O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord. Thus says the Lord God to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. I will lay sinews on you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath in you, and you shall live; and you shall know that I am the Lord.” So I prophesied as I had been commanded; and as I prophesied, suddenly there was a noise, a rattling, and the bones came together, bone to its bone. I looked, and there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them; but there was no breath in them. Then he said to me, “Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, mortal, and say to the breath: Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.” I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood on their feet, a vast multitude. Then he said to me, “Mortal, these bones are the whole house of Israel. They say, ‘Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.’ Therefore prophesy, and say to them, Thus says the Lord God: I am going to open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people; and I will bring you back to the land of Israel. And you shall know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people. I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil; then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken and will act,” says the Lord.

Ezekiel 37:1-14

My sermon from the Fifth Sunday in Lent (March 29, 2020) on John 9:1-42

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One of the things I’m not doing much of – right now – is driving. My car, on most days, just sits in the driveway. I occasionally turn it on to go to the grocery store or to church. And on sunny days, I move it to the street so that my kids have more space to play with chalk. Since I’m trying to love my neighbors as best as I can, I’m spending most of my time with my feet on the ground rather than on the gas pedal. Now I know not all of us can stay at home like I can. Some of you are doing amazing work as nurses, doctors, and first responders – and others are keeping us fed by staffing grocery stores and making sure all our online shopping orders arrive at our doors. Your lives are really busy and stressful right now – and I pray you can find moments to rest – because you are truly making a difference in the world and I’m so grateful for everything that you do. I, on the other hand, get to stay at home. Yet that doesn’t feel like the privilege it actually is. Because as my car sits in the driveway with its wheels going nowhere – the rest of the world seems to spin much faster than it should. Even in those moments when we find ourselves feeling really bored, the anxiety that’s in our part of the world is very heavy. More and more of our friends and neighbors have officially been diagnosed with the coronavirus. And many of us are worried about our finances because we either lost our job, had to lay off workers, and we have no idea what the stock market is going to do next. No longer are the news reports that made us anxious last week only about other people. Those reports are now about us too. I don’t drive right now because I know I shouldn’t be going anywhere. But I also don’t even feel like getting into the car because there are these other forces around us that seem to be driving the next part of our story. 

Today’s reading from the book of Ezekiel was originally spoken to a community full of anxiety and fear because they were living far from home. Ezekiel was a prophet who was maybe 30 years old when the armies of the Babylonian Empire conquered Jerusalem, forcing the people who lived there to leave and rebuild their lives hundreds of miles away along the banks of the Euphrates river in modern day Iraq. Ezekiel, who had begun his ministry pointing out the many ways the people of Jerusalem failed to love God and their neighbors, was now living in a land not of his choosing. He and the rest of the Jewish community were in a new place where their old way of life no longer worked. They needed to build new shelters, new routines, and change their expectations of what daily life could be like since they were now living in a future that they didn’t expect. For some, this new adventure was difficult but not impossible – because they had wealth and other privileges that helped them maintain, to some degree, the lifestyle they were used to. But for others, this new reality undercut their sense of security, purpose, and hope. As we hear in today’s passage, the community cried out saying, “Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.” For these survivors of war, violence, and forced migration – these dried bones were both metaphorical and very real. They thought they knew how their world worked. They thought they knew God. But then something came – an external force – that shook the very foundations of what they knew and it left them feeling vulnerable, scared, and afraid. 

And it’s at that moment when God gave Ezekiel a vision rooted in the very words the community was already saying. God placed Ezekiel in a valley full of dry bones. Those bones represented everything the community was feeling and experiencing. All their fear; all their worry; and all their not knowing about what would come next – everything that was draining their life – was there, in that valley. And once Ezekiel acknowledged all that was lifeless around him, God gave him new words to speak. These words were not words that Ezekiel came up with. Rather – God gave him an external word – one that broke through all the things that were taking their life away. Yet this word did not undo what the community and Ezekiel were experiencing. Things weren’t going to go back to the way things were because life doesn’t work that way. The lives we live are real – and we are shaped by every experience that we have including those moments that leave us feeling undone. Yet God’s promise to you is that your undoing will not be what defines you. Instead, God gives to us a new word – rooted in our baptism and in our faith and renewed daily by God’s grace. And it’s this external gift from God that will be what ultimately shapes us and forms us to live that new life that, in God’s eyes, truly defines us. 

So on this fifth Sunday of Lent, your bones might feel pretty dry. You might be worn out, empty, and just plain tired – tired of being anxious, tired of being at home, tired of not living the life you wanted, and tired of having something else shape the life that you live. All those feelings are normal; all those feelings are valid. Yet I hope that in your dry bone moments when your patience is thin, and you are feeling overwhelmed by the noise of a busy house or by the oppressing silence of being alone – in those moments, I invite you to lean into what God has already given you. This Lent, we’ve been spending time remembering and learning how to share that moment when Jesus was real to us. That is a holy gift meant to sustain you during your dry bone days. So let’s continue to add to the story we’re going to share – a story that began with “Once upon a time there was…” “And every day…” you lived your life a certain way. “Until one day…” Jesus was there. “And because of that…” the life you lived was now shifted in subtle and not so subtle ways. Yet you noticed that as you lived, something new was animating your life. At first, you weren’t sure if anything really changed but then you realized this new thing mattered because your dry bones were no longer the only thing that defined you. Instead, you discovered how Jesus enters into our world; into our anxiety; and into our suffering. Because God knows that we need an external word to cut through the troubles of today and to remind us that it’s God’s love that is driving us and our world. So I invite you to remember your story; remember your baptism; remember your faith – and trust that it’s hope, not anxiety; peace, not unknowing; and love, not fear, that holds your life. Let’s now add to the faith story we’re learning to share. And as you pay attention to the breath of God that still gives you life – finish this sentence: “Until finally…” 

Amen.

As [Jesus] walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “[Neither this man nor his parents sinned. In order that God’s works might be revealed in him, ] we must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see.

The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, “Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?” Some were saying, “It is he.” Others were saying, “No, but it is someone like him.” He kept saying, “I am the man.” But they kept asking him, “Then how were your eyes opened?” He answered, “The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ Then I went and washed and received my sight.” They said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I do not know.”

They brought to the Pharisees the man who had formerly been blind. Now it was a sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes. Then the Pharisees also began to ask him how he had received his sight. He said to them, “He put mud on my eyes. Then I washed, and now I see.” Some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, for he does not observe the sabbath.” But others said, “How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?” And they were divided. So they said again to the blind man, “What do you say about him? It was your eyes he opened.” He said, “He is a prophet.” The [Jewish leaders] did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they called the parents of the man who had received his sight and asked them, “Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How then does he now see?” His parents answered, “We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind; but we do not know how it is that now he sees, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for himself.” His parents said this because they were afraid of the [Jewish leaders]; for [they]had already agreed that anyone who confessed Jesus to be the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue. Therefore his parents said, “He is of age; ask him.” So for the second time they called the man who had been blind, and they said to him, “Give glory to God! We know that this man is a sinner.” He answered, “I do not know whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see.” They said to him, “What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?” He answered them, “I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?” Then they reviled him, saying, “You are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from.” The man answered, “Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.” They answered him, “You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?” And they drove him out.

Jesus heard that they had driven him out, and when he found him, he said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” He answered, “And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him.” Jesus said to him, “You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he.” He said, “Lord, I believe.” And he worshiped him.

Jesus said, “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.” Some of the Pharisees near him heard this and said to him, “Surely we are not blind, are we?” Jesus said to them, “If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains.

John 9:1-41

My sermon from the Third Sunday in Lent (March 22, 2020) on John 9:1-41.

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So right now, the most spoken word in my house is “what?” Now I don’t live in a large home. It’s a one story ranch, all on the same level, and the walls and doors are not very thick. Nothing in my house is soundproof. Which, on most days, is fine. But when everyone is home – including two adults who are working, two kids in school, and a 14 month old who loves yelling at people as they walk by on the street – we’re constantly saying “what?” to each other. The combined noise of conference calls, computers,  online meetings, and educational games on the iPad means we’re always looking for different ways to cut through the noise and get each other’s attention. 

Now I know for some of you, this is what your new normal looks like. But even though the state of New Jersey is now under lockdown, some of us are still going to work or are living isolated from our family, friends, and neighbors. You might not be living in a loud house right now – but there could be a different kind of noise clouding and interfering with your world. Every day, we learn about the many additional confirmed cases of the coronavirus that are in our neighborhoods. And many of us can’t visit family or live the way we want to. Each one of us is trying to adjust to this new reality that is overwhelming. And since we don’t know when this virus will dissipate, our new habit of gathering together online feels like it might last forever. Learning how to cut through the noise of news, fears, and anxiety is really hard. And you might find yourself constantly saying “what?” as you try to figure out how to live your life in a new, safe, and sometimes loud kind of way. 

Our story today from the gospel according to John is full of people asking “what?” And they do this even though it might seem as if they’re really asking why. When the disciples first noticed the person born blind, they began with a “why” but they assumed they already knew the answer to their question. They wanted Jesus to certify that they knew how God and the world already operated. This type of reasoning is why, I think, the religious leaders threw a fit because Jesus healed on the wrong day. They, like the disciples, were focused on the what. And what they saw was Jesus doing work. He spat on the ground, made mud, and asked the person born blind to do work too. Now on any other day of the week, that might have been fine. But Jesus chose to do this work on the sabbath, on the one day of the week when all of creation was invited by God to rest. Jesus interfered with that rest by asking the person born blind to get up, go, and wash. The what of the healing – the process of how it was done – became what the religious leaders focused on. The parents, likewise, were also focused on the what. When confronted about the identity of their son, they focused on that question rather than asking why he was healed in the first place. And when we step back and look at what the man born blind’s life was like before Jesus saw him, he see that he was beggar. We shouldn’t assume that he was, in some ways, ill or that his blindness caused him to be less of a person. Rather, he lived the way he could live and in the ancient world, that meant he had to beg. No one asked why he begged; they just assumed that begging was the only thing a person born blind could do. When we listen to the questions being asked by all the different kinds of people in this passage, everyone is focused on the what – hoping that their answer to that question could somehow cut through the noise of what Jesus was doing. Their assumptions and expectations of how God operated in the world were challenged by this Jesus who happened to see a person born blind. Jesus, I think, wasn’t interested in “the what.” Instead, he was focused on “the who.” And when he saw that the person born blind wanted to see – which we notice by the fact that he chose to go to the pool and wash – Jesus responded with a loving act that did not care about their what. Jesus, in this moment, just loved. And when the people around him failed to understand what Jesus was doing, he returned to the person who once was blind – and connected them to a community where they would be allowed to become exactly who God was calling them to be. 

So I want you to think about your personal faith story. When was Jesus real to you? Now over the last few weeks, we’ve been using that moment in our life as the source for the story we’re going to tell. And we’re using a storytelling method from Pixar to teach us how to share that story with others. We set the stage for our story by finishing this sentence: “Once upon a time there was…” And since Jesus showed up in our lives as they already were, we add to our faith story by finishing this sentence: “And every day . . .” Yet when Jesus showed up, your everyday changed. So we add to our faith story by being specific and finishing this sentence: “Until one day…”  Now, it’s possible that this moment didn’t, at first, cause us to see the world in a new way. We, like the person born blind, might have tried many different things to figure out what this Jesus thing meant. And that part of our story might have been hard, filled with anxious times and unexpected challenges. Or we might have needed to live a lot of life before we looked back and noticed how Jesus was always with us. God’s promise of presence, love, and hope belongs to you even in those moments when your what, your who, and your why are all mixed up. Because your faith and your baptism are the sign that Jesus will never give up on you. Jesus, even now, has already found you. And he promised that he will keep returning to you – leading you into a new reality where you are defined not by what you have done or what you think happened in your life. But instead by the fact that, even now, Jesus is already part of your story. So as you think about the next part of your faith story, I want you to finish and repeat/reuse the following sentence as many times as you need: “And because of that…” 

Amen. 

[Jesus] came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired out by his journey, was sitting by the well. It was about noon.

A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, ‘Give me a drink’. (His disciples had gone to the city to buy food.) The Samaritan woman said to him, ‘How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?’ (Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans.) Jesus answered her, ‘If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, “Give me a drink”, you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.’ The woman said to him, ‘Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? Are you greater than our ancestor Jacob, who gave us the well, and with his sons and his flocks drank from it?’ Jesus said to her, ‘Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.’ The woman said to him, ‘Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.’
Jesus said to her, ‘Go, call your husband, and come back.’ The woman answered him, ‘I have no husband.’ Jesus said to her, ‘You are right in saying, “I have no husband”; for you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true!’ The woman said to him, ‘Sir, I see that you are a prophet. Our ancestors worshipped on this mountain, but you say that the place where people must worship is in Jerusalem.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshippers will worship the Father in spirit and truth, for the Father seeks such as these to worship him. God is spirit, and those who worship him must worship in spirit and truth.’ The woman said to him, ‘I know that Messiah is coming’ (who is called Christ). ‘When he comes, he will proclaim all things to us.’ Jesus said to her, ‘I am he, the one who is speaking to you.’
Just then his disciples came. They were astonished that he was speaking with a woman, but no one said, ‘What do you want?’ or, ‘Why are you speaking with her?’ Then the woman left her water-jar and went back to the city. She said to the people, ‘Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?’ They left the city and were on their way to him.

Meanwhile the disciples were urging him, ‘Rabbi, eat something.’ But he said to them, ‘I have food to eat that you do not know about.’ So the disciples said to one another, ‘Surely no one has brought him something to eat?’ Jesus said to them, ‘My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work. Do you not say, “Four months more, then comes the harvest”? But I tell you, look around you, and see how the fields are ripe for harvesting. The reaper is already receiving wages and is gathering fruit for eternal life, so that sower and reaper may rejoice together. For here the saying holds true, “One sows and another reaps.” I sent you to reap that for which you did not labour. Others have labored, and you have entered into their labour.’

Many Samaritans from that city believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, ‘He told me everything I have ever done.’ So when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them; and he stayed there for two days. And many more believed because of his word. They said to the woman, ‘It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Savior of the world.’

John 4:5-42

My sermon from the Third Sunday in Lent (March 14, 2020) on John 4:5-42

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So what struck me about this reading today – was how the Samaritan Woman and Jesus both made choices in this passage. When she came to the well, she didn’t expect to meet anyone there. But she finds Jesus – who is sitting there and, in my head, I imagine he’s basically in her way. She needs to go near him to get to that well. And so she does – and that’s when he spoke to her. His words “give me a drink” are not the earth shattering faith-based words we might Jesus to say. But they do stop her in her tracks. Because she knows that what Jesus was doing was really odd – because he shouldn’t be talking to her in the first place. She’s a woman. She’s a Samaritan. And he’s a Jewish teacher. There’s a huge gender and religious barrier between the two that should cause both of them to keep their distance. The Samaritan and the Jewish community had different thoughts about who God is and where God is to be worshipped. Those differences had separated, over the centuries, separated these two communities. Jesus, in that moment, shouldn’t be talking to her. But he did. And that left her with a choice. She should have, according to their cultural expectations, just fill her bucket and gone home. She should have walked away. Yet she didn’t. She talked back. Because, by meeting him, her everyday suddenly changed. 

But this connection wasn’t the only choice these two made. We also get a fun back and forth where Jesus and the Samaritan woman take a risk to reveal a bit of their story to one another. She revealed, even though she didn’t have to, a little bit about who she was. Yet she didn’t reveal her whole story – just a bit – just enough to make you wonder why she’s revealing her marital status to a strange man she just met at a well. She, in that moment, showed who she was – a person with a story worth telling but one she would tell on her own terms. And so Jesus, in his own way, did the same. He says, in this passage, something he hadn’t said before. He said, “I am he” – the Messiah. But the words he spoke were even bigger than that. He said “I am” – words that matched the ones God used when God revealed Gods-self to Moses way back in the book of Exodus. Moses asked for God’s name and God said “I Am.” Jesus chooses to reveal his identity to someone he shouldn’t be talking to. And she, at the same time, revealed who she was too. There is, in their relationship, a mutual revealing – a mutual sharing – of who they are. And in that sharing, she was invited into a new life – a new reality – where God revealed all the different kinds of stories from all the different kinds of people who belonged to God. 

This Lent, we’re working on telling our faith story and we’re using the Pixar model of storytelling to do it. A few weeks ago, I invited you to think about a moment when Jesus was real to you. Savor that moment and then try to put that into words. First, set the stage for the story by finishing this sentence: “Once upon a time there was…” And once the story is set, spend time describing what made that day like every other day by finishing this sentence: “And every day . . .” Yet when Jesus showed up – when Jesus made himself known to you in a real, tangible, ordinary, and  extraordinary kind of way – your everyday changed. Maybe not at first. Maybe not in a thunder and lightning kind of way. But your everyday changed because the promises made to you in your baptism and faith – of God’s presence, love, and hope – were no longer just words. They were made visible in your life – and revealed that those promises were already part of your story. Because once upon a time there was a Samaritan woman. And everyday she went to the well for water at noon. But one day, she revealed to someone she wasn’t supposed to a bit of her story. Your story, like the Samaritan’s woman, is worth telling. Your experience of Jesus is part of who you are. And so I invite you, in the middle of this weird time when we might struggle to feel as if Jesus is really here – lean into the promises that are already part of who you are. Then add to your Jesus story by finishing this sentence – But one day . . . 

Amen.