I'm Thirsty -- A Lectionary Meditation

Exodus 17:1-7



Romans 5:1-11


John 4:5-42

I’m Thirsty

Water is essential to life. The human body is somewhere between 55% and 78% water, and water covers about 70% of the earth’s surface. Although we can go a while without water, eventually we’ll die without water. Water and life – they go hand in hand.

Two of the texts for this Third Sunday of Lent focus on water. Moses has to deal with a people who complain vociferously because they don’t have water to drink, while Jesus finds himself tired and thirsty and sitting next to Jacob’s well. He doesn’t complain, but he does ask for water! As we think about water and thirst we might want to look ahead for a moment to Jesus’s cry from the cross – I Thirst (John 19:28). Paul’s not quite ready to get to the water (Baptism appears in Romans 6), but he deals with the issue of suffering and hope, ideas that are present in the other two texts. Each of these scriptures remind us that no matter how difficult the journey, God is present and faithful.

In the Exodus story, the people have again grown cantankerous. Although God provided food for the journey – not that they enjoyed the menu – now they’re thirsty. This leads to quarreling and complaining to Moses – why, they ask, have you led us out here into the wilderness so that we might die of thirst. You would have thought that they preferred slavery in Egypt, and perhaps they did. We often prefer the misery we know to the potential misery that might face us in the unknown. With all the harping and complaining, Moses grows frustrated with this people God had entrusted to his care. They were never satisfied, no matter what God did – whether it was the rescue from the clutches of Pharaoh’s army or the manna from heaven – they weren’t satisfied. Wanting water they begin to quarrel amongst themselves, and Moses cries to God – “What am I to do with this people? They’re ready to stone me.” As I read this, I’m reminded of political leaders, especially Presidents, who find that they can never satisfy the populace, no matter what they do. It’s never enough!

But God is gracious and hears Moses, telling him to gather the Elders and then go out ahead of the people. God tells Moses to meet at the Rock at Horeb, and there in front of the Elders, Moses does as God commanded. He strikes the rock with the staff he had used to strike the Nile, and from that rock sprang water to quench the thirst of the people. God had provided, but in a bit of frustration, Moses calls this place Masseh and Meribah, because the Israelites “quarreled and tested the Lord saying - “is the Lord among us.” I sense that the word we need to hear in this story concerns typical human behavior – even in the church – in spite of our complaining and insolence, God is faithful. So instead of complaining, let us give thanks to God.

Before we turn to story of Jesus’ encounter with the woman at the well, we must heed Paul’s discourse in Romans 5. The chapter begins familiarly – “Since we are justified we have peace with God through the Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to the grace in which we stand.” In Christ we’re justified, saved, and reconciled. I’m afraid it’s easy to read this passage in a very transactional way. We’re sinners who face the wrath of God, and Jesus’ blood substitutes for our blood. For centuries theologians have interpreted the cross in a quid pro quo fashion – the life of Jesus for my life. But why does God need blood to be satisfied? What is it that I have done that requires the death of another, especially one who is innocent of all changes? I struggle with the idea of divine wrath. I don’t have space to delve into this question here in this place, but perhaps there is another way of reading this text. Maybe the issue is one of separation between Jew and Gentile – in the cross a way has been created that brings the two together. I don’t know, but what I do hear in this text is a promise that no matter what happens there is hope. Suffering, which we all experience, produces endurance, and endurance leads to character, and character builds hope, and as Paul says – this hope doesn’t disappoint. That is because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit. That is the message we need to hear – not that we’re miserable sinners who need someone to suffer our due punishment so that God will accept us. No the word we should hear in this text is that God’s love will transform our lives in ways that lead to hope. That is a word of salvation.

Finally we come to the story Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s Well. According to John, Jesus is sitting by the well because he’s tired. He’s on his way to Jerusalem, where he will taste suffering The disciples have gone into town to get some food. It’s about noon when a woman comes to the well to draw water, and so Jesus asks her to draw him some water to drink, because he’s thirsty. This woman is caught off guard because Jesus is a Jew and she’s a Samaritan (and a woman) so why is he asking her for water? My guess is that he’s thirsty and she has the means to get him a cup of water, but that’s too simple an explanation. The point isn’t the physical thirst, but the spiritual thirst that lies within. The request for water leads to a theological discussion, but first Jesus has to overcome the woman’s literalist mind set, just as he had to do in John 3 with regard to Nicodemus. That’s just the way we are – we think literally first and only later are we able to move onto something more spiritual in nature.

Having asked the woman for a cup of water, Jesus in turn offers the woman living water. At first she can’t comprehend what he’s saying. How can Jesus offer her living water when he doesn’t have a bucket to draw water with. But, when Jesus says that once she drinks this living water she’ll never thirst again, she becomes intrigued. How does this happen? But, besides that, this well belonged to Jacob. How could any other water exceed it in value? Still, water that fulfilled thirst eternally, that was worth pursuing. Having such water would eliminate the need to come to the well. As she’s contemplating this reality, Jesus tells her to go and get her husband. Of course, she’s not married, but apparently he already knows this. In fact, although she’s been married five times, the man she’s with whom she now lives isn’t her husband. Not only is she a woman and a Samaritan, but it would appear that she’s also a sinner, but Jesus doesn’t make anything of that. He seems to understand that she has lived a life of suffering – probably at the hands of the men who have been in her life. Perhaps she has become ostracized, which is why she was at the well at the height of the noon day sun. I don’t know any of this for sure, but it does appear that Jesus has pricked her heart. His revelation of her life causes her to move from her focus on getting water to understanding whom Jesus is.

How do you know this about me? You must be a prophet of God, but then there’s this theological problem. We worship here on this mountain, and you worship in Jerusalem. We’re divided, separated from each other by our theologies of worship. We think God is present here in this place, you think God is some place else. And yet he has spoken truth to her and so she’s intrigued. But Jesus has a surprise for her – place doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if it’s Sychar or Jerusalem, Wittenberg or Rome, the point is that God is Spirit and those who would worship God must worship in Spirit and truth. What a freeing thing this word must be, though still she’s not ready to receive it. How often do we resist a word of liberation and freedom? We stay locked within the box that we’ve built for ourselves. The box may have its use once, but now its time to move on, to grasp that God is bigger than the box. The woman who is now a theologian says to Jesus, well when the Messiah comes, then we’ll know what to do. Yes, when the prophet comes who we’re expecting, that person will make this all clear. And Jesus says – “I am he.” I’m the one you’ve been waiting for.

As Jesus makes this claim, the Disciples return to find him deep in conversation with this woman. They’re surprised at all of this. I’m not sure whether this is because the conversation partner is a woman or a Samaritan, but they’re not prepared. This interruption gives the woman an opportunity to return to the village, where she spreads the news about the one who revealed her life to her, and her testimony draws out the people to the well. While she’s doing her evangelistic effort, the Disciples talk to Jesus about the food they’ve procured, but Jesus says – “I have food you know nothing about.” Yes, once again it’s a question of literal versus spiritual. And the Disciples are confused – where did he get the food, but the food he has to offer is spiritual food. As they discuss what to eat, the Samaritans gather around Jesus and invite him to stay a few days and teach them. Afterwards they say to the woman: We no longer have to rely on your testimony, we’ve heard enough to know that he is the savior of the world.

Our thirst is physical, even as our hunger is physical. We are physical beings and we need food and water – whether we’re in the desert of Sinai or at Jacob’s Well. But we’re more than physical beings who need food and water. We’re spiritual beings, who need spiritual food and spiritual drink. Each week, at least in my tradition, we gather at the table of the Lord and take bread and cup. It’s not enough to stave off our physical hunger and thirst, but it is a reminder that our hope is found in the one whom we worship in spirit and in truth, the one who is faithful and who provides what we need, so that we might grow into people of hope.

Moving on Up -- a Lectionary Reflection for the Second Sunday of Lent

Genesis 12:1-4a



Romans 4:1-5, 13-17


John 3:1-17

Moving on Up . . .

You can’t see the Kingdom of God without being “born from above.” So says Jesus to Nicodemus (John 3:3). That phrase “born from above” might be a key to understanding the journey of faith. We are by nature physical beings, but by grace we become spiritual beings. By faith we are enabled, as we allow the Spirit, who like the wind, blows where it likes, without us being able to control it. If we’re willing to allow grace to bless us, then our lives might be transformed so that we can participate in God’s work of transforming the world that God loves. If being part of the realm of God means being “born from above,” then most assuredly the path of faith is an upward track. While this path may lead upward, it needs to be said that most often it first goes into the valley.

In approaching these three lectionary texts for the second Sunday of Lent, my thoughts are being pushed in interesting directions from my concurrent readings in Richard Rohr’s Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life (Jossey Bass, advanced proof). Rohr speaks of the reality that faces us all – that we will fall before we rise.

So we must stumble and fall, I am sorry to say. And that does not mean reading about falling, as you are doing here. We must actually be out of the driver’s seat for a while, or we’ll never learn how to give up control to the Real Guide. It is the necessary pattern. (P. 66).

The journey we are taking, should we chose the way of the Spirit of God, won’t be an easy one. Consider the journey of Abraham and Sarah, after God calls him. Yes, he receives a promise and a purpose, but it’s not all smooth sailing. God calls Paul on the Damascus Road, he’s blinded and then healed, but it’s not all smooth sailing for him either. As for Jesus, he hears the call and takes up the mantle of God, but his path leads to a cross before it leads to resurrection. Suffering is part of the course of life. We must go down, in order to move up. The cross comes before resurrection. If we’re to experience the fullness of God’s promises we must understand this reality.

Our journey starts with a promise to Abram. God says – go to a new country and I’ll make for you many descendants and you we’ll be blessed so that you might be a blessing to the nations. That’s pretty good news, but it demands a sacrifice. Abram must leave behind his home and his family in order to receive the blessings. But Abram went by faith. But, he doesn’t go alone. In this particular set of verses, we don’t read Sarai’s name, but this is a partnership. There will be no descendants without her. The promise made to Abram and Sarai is really one of the most important statements in scripture, because it sets the context for the rest of the story. Christians come into the story as heirs of the promise to Abraham by grace, for we are not direct descendants of Abraham and Sarah. But then again, as we’ll see, even Abraham and Sarah and their descendants don’t earn this promise, but instead receive it by grace. It is grace that enables them to receive the call of righteousness by faith.

In many ways Romans 4 is a commentary on the Genesis 12 passage. According to Paul, the call of Abraham is not something that has been earned. Abraham is our ancestor, not because of works, but simply because Abraham believed God. Now what does this mean? “Abraham believed God.” Does that mean that God gave Abraham some kind of ordination exam with a set of questions that needed proper answers lest he be rejected? That doesn’t seem to be the case. Abraham isn’t justified – made right before God – because of the Law. Remember the Law doesn’t come until later. No, it’s a matter of faith, and again faith isn’t assent to a set of doctrines, but is simply trust. Abraham heard the call to leave behind family and friends and security so that he could follow God’s lead into Canaan.

It’s important that as we hear Paul place the Law behind Faith, we don’t hear him denigrate the value of Law. For Paul the Law its place, but it’s not the end game. Again, turning to Richard Rohr, who speaks of life’s two halves, the first half has to do with identity formation and security. It’s a question of ordering one’s life, and most assuredly the Law helps with this task. In the second half of life, we can begin to take risks and journeys beyond secure boundaries, but as Rohr suggest, “maybe they cannot answer a second call because they have not yet completed the first task.” He then goes on to write:

Unless you build your first house well, you will never leave it. To build your house well is, ironically, to be nudged beyond its doors (p. 23).

We have to fulfill at least a large part of the first half tasks before we’re ready to move on. Apparently Abraham was ready to take the next step. So was Paul. The point is, that if adherence to the Law is all that is required, then faith is of little value. If Law is the end, then what we have is a rather risk-averse life. The Law has its place, for as Rohr writes, “without law in some form, and also without butting up against the law, we cannot move forward easily and naturally” (p. 25). To live by faith is to take that step outside the doors, to butt up against the walls that try to keep us inside, and being to fly, to test the waters, and live by the Spirit.

This brings us to the gospel lesson from John. The text itself doesn’t speak to the Abraham paradigm that is present in the two texts from Genesis and Romans, but John pushes us to think outside the box. Nicodemus comes to Jesus, seeking wisdom (we would assume), but Jesus throws him for a loop with his talk of being born from above if he should want to see God’s kingdom. Like most of us, Nicodemus is thinking in very material terms. How can I be reborn from my mother’s womb? But, Jesus is speaking in spiritual not material terms. He’s moving beyond the first half concerns of rules and boundaries and identities to the life in the Spirit, where we test boundaries and allow God to move in and through us so we might reach our full potential as God’s children. Jesus first says – if you want to see the realm of God you have to be born from above – that is, born from heaven. Then he ups the ante, and says – if you want to enter the Kingdom then you will have to be “born of water and Spirit.” Traditionally, this phrase has been taken to refer to baptism, but I’m convinced that in context the point isn’t baptism, but rather a contrast between physical birth (water) and spiritual birth. Both are necessary, for we are born of the flesh, but if we’re open then we can also be born of the Spirit as well. To enter the kingdom we must experience this spiritual birth, and when it comes to the Spirit, the wind blows where it will. We don’t control it, and it will push us outside the box.

In this conversation, as John tells the story, Jesus moves onto a discussion of what it means to fall upward. No one has ascended to heaven, he says, except the one who has descended from heaven – the Son of Man. But the one who has descended must be lifted up, even as Moses lifted up the serpent, so that whoever would believe might have eternal life. And what does it mean to believe? Again, I don’t think it means signing on the dotted doctrinal line, but rather trusting in the one who seeks to take us on a journey of faith – the Spirit of God. Our hope lies then in the one sent by God who loves the world, so that whoever trusts in the one God has sent might not perish but have eternal life, which as Richard Beck notes, may have less to do with quantity of time as it does with quality of life in God.

The question that these texts raise concerns whether we’re ready to move on up into the heavenly realm? Are we ready to follow the Spirit and live outside the box? Have we formed/been formed in such a way that our identities are secure enough that we can leave the nest and follow the Spirit into new opportunities to be in partnership with God in loving the world? And we do so by faith, knowing that the wind of the Spirit blows where ever it wills!



Behold the Lamb of God -- A Sermon

John 1:29-42

In the final scene of Jesus’ trial before Pilate, as John tells the story, the Roman Governor turns to the people, and says, “Behold the Man” (Jn. 19:5 KJV). Or, as the Latin Vulgate renders it: “Ecce Homo.”

This phrase loses something in its modern renditions. “Here is the man” doesn’t carry near the power of “Behold the Man.” When you hear this phrase in the King James, you can feel the tension in the crowd. There he is, the governor, standing before the people, holding in his hands the power of life and death, and turning to the people, as if he’s presiding over the arena and inviting them to decide: Thumbs up or thumbs down? Which is it?

It is only the Second Sunday after Epiphany, and we’re still contemplating the revelation of God’s presence in the world. Good Friday seems so far off, and yet this Good Friday scene stands behind the testimony of John the Baptist. Even as Pilate shouts out with all the imperial might behind him – “Behold the Man” – the Baptizer also points to Jesus and says “Behold, the lamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world.” Again, I use the King James, because it adds drama to this testimony.

Both the Baptizer and Pilate bear witness to the centrality of Jesus to the mission of God. Here in our text this morning, we hear John call out: There is the Lamb of God. He is the one we’ve been waiting for. He’s the one who bears the Spirit of God, the one who existed before me, and therefore, is greater than me. My ministry, the Baptizer says, must now recede into the background, as Jesus picks up God’s mantle. He is, as Isaiah proclaims, the servant of God who not only redeems Israel, but offers “a light to the nations, so that [God’s] salvation may reach to the ends of the earth” (Is. 49:6).

Because God’s presence has been made manifest in our midst, we are invited to join the Baptizer and even Pilate in bearing witness to this light that’s shining in the darkness. With them, we can declare to the world – “Behold, the Lamb of God.”

1. THE PASSOVER LAMB REVEALED

When we hear John the Baptist speak of the Lamb of God, what comes to mind? Does your mind go to Psalm 23, where the Good Shepherd brings the sheep safely through the dark valleys into the safety of the meadow? Or, do you think of the parable, where the Good Shepherd goes off looking for the lost lamb and then brings it back to the safety of the flock? These are comforting images that are deeply ingrained in our minds and hearts, because they speak of God’s compassionate care for the people of God. But these aren’t the images present in this particular case. No, when John points out Jesus and calls him the Lamb of God, he has in mind the Passover Lamb, which is sacrificed as a reminder that God spared the Hebrews so that they might become the people of God.

So, when John points out Jesus and calls him the “Lamb of God,” he want us to understand that Jesus is the one whose sacrifice provides the way of salvation. This might be a disturbing image for some, even though it’s long been part of the Christian testimony that stands behind our Table Fellowship. We come to the Table each week to take part in the Passover celebration, knowing that Jesus is the Passover Lamb through whom we are made one with God.

You can see how John’s witness ties together with Pilate’s. Both are saying something similar – here is the one whom God has chosen to be the Passover Sacrifice, and in John’s theology, this is a sacrifice of atonement. That is, through his death, Jesus brings God and humanity back together into a relationship that had been damaged by human sin. Or, as we read 1 Peter 1, Jesus is the one who ransoms us from the evil one by offering his precious blood, “like that of a lamb without defect or blemish" (1 Pet. 1:18-19).

Although we don’t have time to go into depth here about what this means, I need to say up front, that we must let go of the idea that Jesus dies on the cross to appease the wrath of God, even if that is an image that has been passed down through time. But if Jesus doesn’t appease God’s wrath through his death on the cross, then how should we understand this image of the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world?

2. THE SUFFERING SERVANT

One way to interpret this text is to go back to the Suffering Servant passages of Isaiah. In Isaiah 53, the prophet speaks of the innocent one, who like a silent lamb is led to slaughter. He becomes, the prophet writes, a sin offering for us, so that through his righteousness, the many are made righteous, and the Servant does this by making intercession for the transgressors.

In context, the prophet is speaking of the Jewish people who suffered greatly during the exile, but out of this exile God forged a new people. The alienation that existed before the exile is taken away, so that a new relationship can emerge. And so, Jesus doesn’t die to appease God’s wrath, but instead he dies because we lay our own iniquities upon him. We make him, to change the image slightly, the scape goat, who carries our transgressions, and in the midst of this, the Lamb of God intercedes for us, that we might be reconciled with God and with one another.

3. FOLLOWING THE LAMB

If we will receive this word from John that the Lamb of God is present with us, seeking to restore our relationship with God and with one another, even if we struggle with some of the language, how then should we respond?

The answer, I believe, comes in the closing verses of our text. The Baptizer points Jesus out to two of his disciples. He tells them – there’s the Lamb of God, the one we’ve been waiting for, and without asking for permission, these two disciples leave John behind and go to Jesus.

One of these two disciples of John is Andrew, the brother of Simon, who quickly realizes that his old team is folding and he needs to join the new one. There is no time to waste, and when he comes to Jesus, he asks: Where are you staying? Jesus knows that Andrew isn’t just curious about where the Lamb of God lives, and so he responds: “Come and see” where I am staying. That is, come and join with me in the work of God, and Andrew, who is the patron saint of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) – so to speak – joins with his still unnamed companion in following Jesus. But this isn’t the end of the story.

You see, Andrew has a bit of witnessing to do himself. Having seen the light, he goes and gets his brother and says – “We’ve found the Messiah.” And so Simon follows his brother’s lead, and comes to Jesus, who says to Simon: Your name was Simon, but now it will be Cephas or Peter. Because you have chosen to follow me, you will have a new identity. It’s interesting that in John’s gospel, it’s Andrew who makes the good confession, but it’s Peter who gets the call.

What then does it mean for us to hear the Baptist’s witness? Will we join Andrew and Simon in following Jesus? And if so, what does it mean for us to join up with the Lamb of God?

Could it mean that God is calling on us to follow in the footsteps of the Lamb of God and lay down our lives for our neighbors? And if so, what does that mean? What I hear in this call of God is an invitation to experience “agape love,” as it’s defined by theologian Tom Oord. He defines agape as “acting intentionally, in response to God and others, to promote overall well-being in response to that which produces ill-being.” That is, “in spite of the evil done, agape responds by promoting good.” Therefore, even though the death of Jesus results from an evil act, God has chosen to use this act to promote that which is good. (Thomas Jay Oord, The Nature of Love: A Theology, Chalice, 2010, p. 56).

In trying to understand what this means for us, I think it’s appropriate that this is Martin Luther King Weekend. Dr. King was a prophet, whose tragic death at the hands of an assassin, issued in a call for the people of America to tear down the walls that divide us – whether these walls are defined by ethnicity, color, or poverty. Dr. King seemed to understand what it meant to be a follower of the Lamb of God, and he also understood that if he continued in his ministry of reconciliation, his life might be taken. But he was willing to take that risk, because he understood that this is the way of Christ, the Lamb of God. Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador, who was murdered while celebrating Mass in his Cathedral is another person who bears witness in his own life to the reconciling presence of the Lamb of God, who take away the sins of the World. Dr. King, Archbishop Romero, Andrew and Peter, all understood what it meant to walk in the footsteps of the Lamb of God, and in doing so, they too became suffering servants in whom the Light of God shines brightly in the world.

As Dietrich Bonhoeffer, who himself experienced suffering and death in service to his Lord, put it "when Christ calls, he bids us come and die." What then does it mean to testify to the one who is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world? Perhaps our response should be that expressed in the Episcopal liturgy of my youth. After the priest consecrated the bread and broke it, the priest would lift up the broken bread and say: “Christ our Passover has been Sacrificed,” and we would respond: “Alleluia, Christ our Passover has been sacrificed for us! Alleluia.” In making this statement, we recognize that we who have experienced estrangement from God and from one another, have been reconciled through the Christ, who is our Passover Lamb. Therefore we can shout “Alleluia.”

 

 

Preached by:

Dr. Robert D. Cornwall

Pastor, Central Woodward Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)

Troy, Michigan

2nd Sunday after Epiphany

January 16, 2010

Called to Testify -- A Lectionary Meditation

Isaiah 49:1-7



1 Corinthians 1:1-9

John 1:29-42

Called to Testify

I’m aware that this weekend the nation I call home will honor the memory and legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. We will observe this moment with a cloud hanging over us, the cloud of an attack on a Congresswoman that left six dead, including a nine-year-old girl who was committed to creating a better world. This attack on one of our nation’s brightest leaders reminds us of the darkness that is present in the world. It was a darkness that Dr. King testified against with words and with deeds. In the end, he was assassinated, but his message lives on in the hearts of those who will hear this voice. Dr. King began his career as a civil rights leader, speaking out clearly against segregation and discrimination that was rife in our land. As time went on, he expanded his message to include giving voice to the concerns of those caught in poverty, and he lent his voice in support of the effort to end the war in Vietnam. Martin Luther King was a prophet deeply rooted in what is known as the Social Gospel. He understood that while sin was present in the heart of the individual, it was also present in the systems of society. One could not change the realities of life, without changing the systems of oppression. He was one who heard the call to bear witness to God’s love for the entirety of creation.

It is with the vigil for those wounded and killed in Tucson on our minds, along with the observance of Dr. King’s birthday, that we come to these three texts scheduled for the Second Sunday after Epiphany. These texts, each in their own way, remind us that this is a season where we focus on the ways in which God is manifest in the world in and through Jesus Christ. These passages of Scripture speak of our calling to bear witness to this presence in the world, to lift up the light that is God’s presence, and make this light known to the nations. As I read these three texts together, I hear in the first passage, from Isaiah, a statement concerning God’s providence in choosing – in the original context – Israel to bear witness of God’s goodness to the nations. From there we turn to Paul who reminds us that we have been gifted for this calling to bear witness, and finally we hear the witness of John the Baptist and Andrew to the mission and purpose of Jesus of Nazareth.

In Isaiah 49 we encounter once again the words of this prophet of the Babylonian exile, who speaks of God’s providential choice to call him (or is it Israel itself?) to this ministry of witness. Whether the intended recipient of this call is the prophet, Israel, Jesus, or even we who hear the call of God in our own time, the call is to be God’s servant, and the call has come even before birth. As is often the case, the prophet protests the call, though in this case it appears that the prophet feels as if the effort has proven to be in vain – “I have spent my strength for nothing and vanity.” Although at first blush, the prophet feels as if all of this has been in vain, the prophet is reminded that God is with this cause. And the nature of the cause? Not just to bring back the survivors of Israel to their ancestral home – the opening lines remind us of the scattering of Israel – that would be too easy, too “light a thing.” No, God would gather the people to their homeland so that they might be a light to the nations, so that God’s “salvation shall reach the ends of the earth.” Then, the nations would bow before the Lord and bring glory to God. This is the intent of God, as understood by this prophet, who sees more for God’s people than simply existing as a small country in a big world.

If Isaiah speaks of God’s intention to prepare a people to bear witness to God’s presence, then Paul takes up the issue of means. That is, Paul opens his letter to the Corinthian church, whom he speaks of as having been “called to be God’s people” in Jesus Christ. Having received this call, they have been “made rich through him in everything.” That is, they are not missing any spiritual gifts necessary so that they might bear witness about Christ until the time of his revealing. And this calling, for which they have been properly gifted or equipped (and Paul talks in great detail later in this letter about the nature of this giftedness), they are “called to partnership with his Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.” This is an important word, this word about partnership. It’s a reminder that the life of faith isn’t a passive one. It’s not something that we simply let God do to us or through us, but which involves us in active participation. We’re not simply tubes through which God’s love passes through to our neighbors, without any input on our part (see Tom Oord, The Nature of Love, Chalice Press, p. 37). God has chosen to use us and to equip us, so that a light might be shared with the nations.

Finally we reach John’s gospel, which revisits Jesus’ baptism and calling by John and the calling of the first disciples. This passage from John’s Gospel pictures John the Baptist standing with two of his own disciples, and declaring to them: “Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the World!” In making this testimony to Jesus, John submits his own ministry to that of Jesus. His baptism had been one of water, but it was a baptism that prepared the way for the one on whom the Spirit rested. Yes, this is God’s Son. Hearing this testimony, the two disciples leave John and go to Jesus. I’m not sure whether this was John’s intent, but the two disciples seemed to understand that if they were going to remain engaged in this work of God, then they would need to attach themselves to the one to whom John had borne witness. Having made a connection with Jesus, Andrew, one of these two former disciples of John, goes to his brother, Simon, and bears witness to what he has seen and discovered in Jesus. John points to Jesus and says – “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the World.” There he is, the one who will restore justice and mercy in the world, but the use of the imagery of the lamb takes to the end of the gospel, where Jesus becomes the Passover lamb. At this moment, the takeaway by Andrew is that “We have found the Messiah.” And when he makes this discovery he feels compelled to share it with his brother, and Simon, himself, feels compelled to come to Jesus. In response, Jesus puts his claim on Simon by giving him a new name – Cephas or Peter. I find it interesting that John makes the translation from Aramaic to Greek, but the imagery of this name change is left ambiguous. Unlike Matthew, we’re not given Simon’s confession (Matthew 16:16), but obviously in John’s mind, something happened in this exchange that placed the mantle on this new disciple.

So here is the question for us this day – to what have we been called to testify? What is this calling, and what are the gifts?

Joy to the World –Spiritual Blessings for All -- Lectionary Meditation for 2nd Sunday after Christmas

Jeremiah 31:7-14


Ephesians 1:3-14

John 1:10-18

Joy to the World –

Spiritual Blessings for All

As we meander toward the end of the Christmas season, which according to the commercial calendar began more than a month ago, if not sooner. The carols have all been sung, the presents opened, unacceptable presents have been returned, the trees and decorations have started to come down, and we have begun to focus on the coming new year, when all things become new. The liturgical calendar, however, won’t let us move on quite yet. Yes, according to the liturgical calendar we’re still in the season of Christmas. The texts for this second Sunday of Christmas (unless you decided to skip this day and move to Epiphany a few days early) speak in one way or another of the spiritual blessings that God has chosen to bestow upon God’s people, and the Ephesian letter and the Gospel of John root these blessings quite directly in the person of Jesus Christ. Therefore, as the prophet Jeremiah says to us – sing for joy and make your praises heard.

The Gospel lesson for the first Sunday after Christmas for this year comes from Matthew 2:13-23, a passage that speaks of the slaughter of the innocents and the flight of the Holy Family into exile in Egypt, from which they later return, bypassing Bethlehem and heading to Nazareth in Galilee. This theme of returning from exile appears in the Jeremiah passage, where the prophet invites the remnant people of Israel to sing for joy and make their praises heard, as they call out to God, asking that God would save this remnant. In answer, the prophet says, the Lord will bring the people home from the land to the north and gather them from the ends of the earth. Everyone, the blind, the lame, the expectant mothers and those who are in labor at this very moment, yes a great throng of people will return to the land. And the message is this – God will be with them – continuing the message that we heard from Isaiah 7 in a previous Sunday – and God will lead them along streams of water (so they don’t thirst) and God will make their path level so they don’t stumble. Again, don’t you hear in this word from the prophet the promises that were heard during the Advent season, as we heard the story of the one who would prepare the way of the Lord. Now, it is the Lord who will prepare the way for God’s people to return home, and then will serve as the shepherd for this people, protecting and delivering them from the hand of the ones who are stronger than they. And again, in response, the people will shout for joy from the highest points and rejoice in the bounty of God. Yes, they will embrace the blessings of grain, new wine, olive oil, and flocks and herds full of young animals. Their land will be one of blessing, a well-watered garden. In that moment there will be no sorrow and the young and the old will dance with gladness. In that day of blessing, God will “turn their mourning into gladness.” Comfort and joy will replace their sorrow and the people will be satisfied. The blessings spoken of here are more material than spiritual, but the question of the day, as we await the coming of the magi bringing gifts, do we not need the material/physical blessings as well as the “spiritual ones?”

As we stand here with the people of God, rejoicing in God’s outpouring of blessings, we turn to the Ephesian letter, and standing right at the heart of this passage is a strongly worded embrace of predestination – or so it seems. In him, we’re told, God has chosen those whom God has predestined according to the plan of the one who works out everything in accordance with God’s plan. This is an extremely dense theological passage that requires much reflection, in large part because it speaks so strongly about election and predestination. For this meditation, I’d like to leave that discussion to one side (see my Ephesian Bible study, pp. 14-15, for a fuller discussion of this issue), and focus more on the opening line of verse 3, which calls on the reader to praise God, the Father of the Lord Jesus Christ, because God has “blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ.” The word about being destined – I prefer that form than the use of the word “predestined” – is rooted in this promise that God has chosen us for adoption to sonship in Christ. That is, we are heirs with Christ, of the full blessings of God, which comes to us as a result of God’s grace that includes forgiveness of sins. One of the key points in the Ephesian letter is that in Christ the mystery of God has been revealed, that God had chosen before the world began to bring Jew and Gentile into fellowship, with both peoples being made heirs of God in Christ, so that all might receive the blessings of God. It is, therefore, not a message of exclusion, as if God had chosen to bless some and not bless others, but that God had in mind an expansive sense of love and grace, and that sense is revealed in Christ, and it is sealed, so says the author of this letter, through the Holy Spirit, with which we have been sealed – a deposit guaranteeing that we will receive (redeem) our inheritance as God’s possession, to the praise and glory of God.

When we turn from the Ephesian letter to the prologue of John we move from one theologically dense work to another, though John 1 has a poetic sense to it. This lectionary passage places the first nine verses in parentheses and begins in earnest with verse ten, a passage that invites us to consider the one through whom the world came into existence. Interestingly, while the NIV uses the masculine pronoun in verse 10, the Common English Bible continues the train of thought from verse 9, and speaks of the world coming into existence “through the light.” But, as is often true in life, the world didn’t recognize the light when it came into the world. But, our theme that we’re following here has to do with blessings, spiritual blessings that come to us as a result of our engagement with the living God.

It would seem that the first and foremost blessing is the right to be born children of God, something that happens not because of blood or human desire, but from the decision of God. Consider the Ephesian letter which speaks of God’s election, God’s choice, in adopting us as God’s heirs/children. It would appear that the same theme is present in this text, though here the gift of God comes to us through the Word that became flesh and dwelt among us. Even though we may not have recognized the light at first, for those who are willing, they will see the glory of this one who became flesh, whose glory is that of the father’s only sun, one who is full of grace and truth. This grace comes into the world through the Word (Light) made flesh, and it is this one we remember here in this moment that reveals to us the true nature of God.

As we move from Christmas into Epiphany, a move that continues the theme that began with Christmas, the sense that God has made God’s self known in our world. It is appropriate that this liturgical movement comes at the same time as the secular calendar moves into a new year. As we contemplate this new year, we can do so knowing that the one who is our shepherd goes with us, bringing the light of God into our lives, so that we might experience every spiritual blessing in the heavenly realm. What better gift could one one receive at Christmas? And the proper response to this gift is to give thanks and praise to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ!

What is the World that God so Loves . . .

At football and baseball games, among other events, you are likely to see someone flash a sign with the phrase John 3:16.  The assumption of those who share this sign is that the person -- probably at home watching TV -- will get the urge to find out what this cryptic sign means.  After all, who is John 3:16 -- that is an awfully odd last name.  Of course, many of us know that John 3:16 refers to a passage of scripture in which Jesus, as interpreted by John, says to Nicodemus, a Pharisee who wishes to know the meaning of Jesus' message:

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life"  (John 3:16 NRSV).

The assumption in this text is that God loved the world so that he sent his son into the world, so that whoever believes in him will have eternal life.  What is often assumed, but is left unspoken here is that God sent his son into the world to die on the cross, and as a result of believing this message, humanity might experience salvation and eternal life.  It needs to be said that in this context nothing is said about a cross, only belief in Jesus -- but what is it that needs to be believed lest, as we read in the following verses, they face judgment and death?

Well, in our conversation this morning about the Gospel of John, Ron Allen reminded us about John's view of reality.  It is a dualistic message, but different from the one found in the Synoptic Gospels.  There the dualism is one of time -- a new age intersecting with an old age.  Here it is a dualism of space, with Heaven standing above the World.  Heaven is where we find love, justice, light, sight, etc.  The world on the other hand isn't the physical world -- rocks and trees, and stuff like that -- but the domain of the devil, where hate, darkness, blindness, etc.  reside.  In this scenario, as I heard Ron tell it (and I don't have my notes in front of me), Jesus resides with God in the Heavenly realm, but has come down into the world, so as to show those who find themselves caught in the World, might find their way to the Heavenly Realm.  Thus it's not necessarily the cross that is the means to salvation, it is accepting Jesus as being the light, the way, that leads us out of the darkness of the world into the light of the Heavenly Realm.  

The problem with this scenario is it tends to be exclusive -- if you don't believe you're condemned.  But, as Ron noted, in the gospel itself there is the basic confession that God is love, so there is the antidote to the exclusivism present in the text.

So the final question might be -- if God loves us so much that God would send a light into the darkness, how might we who have experienced the light, become bearers of the light (without this becoming a moment of exclusivism)?

The Human Face of God

Many years ago Karl Barth wrote an essay on "the humanity of God."  In that essay he wrote about the paradox of bringing together the deity and the humanity of God.  Of course, for Barth this is a question that involves Christology.  He writes:

In Jesus Christ there is no isolation of man from God or of God from man.  Rather, in Him we encounter the history the dialogue, in which God and man meet together and are together, the reality of the covenant mutually  contracted, preserved, and fulfilled by them.  Jesus Christ is in His one Person, as true God, man's loyal partner, and has true man, God's.  He is the Lord humbled for communion with man and likewise the Servant exalted to communion with God.  He is the Word spoken from the loftiest, most luminous transcendence, and likewise the Word heard in the deepest, darkest immanence.  He is both, without their being confused but also without their being divided; He is wholly the one and wholly the other.  Thus in his oneness Jesus Christ is the Mediator, the Reconciler, between God and man.  Thus He comes forward to man on behalf of God calling for and awakening faith, love, and hope, and to Godon behalf of man, representing man, making satisfaction and interceding.  Thus he attests to man God's free grace  and at the same time attests and guarantees to God man's free gratitude.  (Barth, Humanity of God, p. 46-47) 

James Dunn, in his book Did the First Christians Worship Jesus? (see review here), comes at the question from a somewhat different angle, but he too posits the idea that Jesus is the "human face of God."  This is, he believes the confession of John's Gospel.  Jesus is the "one who made the unseen God known and known more clearly and more fully than he had ever been known before.  In  a real sense that the first Christians could only explain inadequately, to be in the presence of Jesus was to be in the presence of God -- not, be it noted in the presence of a god, but in the presence of God" (Dunn, Did the First Christians Worship Jesus?, p. 122-123).   

Although the confession that Jesus is the human face of God affirms that when we approach Jesus, see Jesus, experience Jesus, we are in the presence of God, that doesn't mean that we are to worship Jesus as a substitute for God.  He is, as both Barth and Dunn seem to suggest, the mediator, the point of contact with God, in which and through which we are invited to worship the living God.  Jesus is the definitive Word (Logos) of God, but Jesus is not the Father -- the one who ultimately deserves our worship and adoration. 

Does that mean we can't have a conversation with Jesus?  No, that's not the idea -- but if that conversation doesn't lead us through Jesus to God the Father then the ultimate conversation has been short-circuited.  But as Dunn is very clear in his book, even if we do not worship Jesus directly, Jesus defines what it means for to worship as Christians. 

Following the Good Shepherd -- Sermon

John 10:22-30


I would like to begin this morning by reading the Twenty-third Psalm from the King James Version, because it is the version that we know best.

 ¹The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
 ²He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.
 ³He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.
 ⁴Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
 ⁵Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.
 ⁶Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever. (Psalm 23, King James Version)

It’s a commonly held belief that sheep are dumb animals. This belief has given rise to the phrase "to fleece," which is used in reference to stealing from a person who is unaware of what is taking place. With our common presuppositions about sheep, could it be that Jesus is insulting us by calling us sheep?

Before we go looking for a new metaphor, one that may seem a bit less derogatory, perhaps we should first reconsider the reputation of sheep. Are they really as dumb as we’ve been led to believe? Could it be that they’ve just gotten bad press?

This seems to be the case. Apparently sheep have had their reputations smeared by cattle ranchers. As you may know from watching westerns on TV, cattle-ranchers hate sheep and their herders with a passion. Ranchers, who are predisposed to cattle, decided that sheep are dumb because sheep don't act like cattle. For instance, when you herd cattle, you drive them from behind by whooping and hollering and cracking whips. If you try this with sheep, they’ll just circle around you. It seems you can't drive sheep; you have to lead them. Sheep won't go anywhere unless they know that there is someone out in front making sure that everything is okay. So who are the dumb ones?

1. HEARING THE VOICE OF THE GOOD SHEPHERD

Sheep and shepherds are prominent images in Scripture. Jacob, Moses, and David were all shepherds, and according to Luke, shepherds were the first people to receive the message of Jesus' birth. In John 10 we find a series of statements from the lips of Jesus, in which he describes himself as the Good Shepherd (Jn 10:11). There is a good reason why all these biblical characters were shepherds, and why sheep figure so prominently in biblical imagery: Sheep were, after all, the primary form of livestock in Palestine. It’s important to also note that the people of Israel didn't consider them to be stupid. They knew what sheep were capable of and so they didn’t take offense at being called sheep.

In this morning’s text, Jesus lifts up a specific attribute of sheep – they can recognize the voice of their shepherd. Not only that, but they will only follow the voice of that one shepherd. The reason sheep will only respond to the voice or call of their own shepherd is because they know that they can count on their shepherd to keep them safe. When danger comes, they won't run off like the hireling. Therefore, sheep get very attached to their shepherds.

Barbara Brown Taylor tells of a conversation with a friend who grew up around sheep. Her friend told her that "he could walk right through a sleeping flock without disturbing a single one of them, while a stranger could not step foot in the fold without causing pandemonium." If you meet up with a group of Bedouins today at an oasis in the Middle East you will see a scene very similar to what was common in first century Palestine. Although several flocks might gather at the same watering hole, the Bedouin shepherds don’t try to keep them apart, because when the shepherd is ready to leave, he or she gives off a distinctive call or whistle and the flock gathers to that shepherd. Taylor writes: “They know whom they belong to; they know their shepherd's voice, and it is the only one they will follow.”* It would seem that sheep aren't all that dumb after all; they know whom they can trust and whom not to trust, and they respond only to that one voice. If, then, we are part of Jesus’ flock, then we’ll recognize his voice and follow him.

In our day there are many voices calling out to us. They appeal to our emotions, our needs, our desires, our pride., and our fears They prey upon our sense of rootlessness, that nomadic spirit that has infected our age. And into this spiral of confusion, we hear Jesus saying to us: “My sheep hear my voice, I know them, and they follow me” (Jn. 10:27).

2. THE CARE OF THE SHEPHERD

Despite the bad press that sheep tend to receive, the reason we’re attracted to the images of sheep and shepherd, is that they provide us with a sense of comfort and well-being. This sensibility is reinforced by the 23rd Psalm, which begins with the line: "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want." By describing himself as the Good Shepherd, Jesus takes over the imagery of the Psalm, imagery that is used by the Psalmist to describe Yahweh’s relationship to the people of God. Indeed, in John’s account, Jesus goes so far as to say: “the Father and I are one.” That is, when you think of the Lord being your shepherd, think also of Jesus, because they are of one purpose.

As we ponder the meaning of the claim put on the lips of Jesus, "I am the Good Shepherd," it would be appropriate for us to consider how this Psalm defines what that means. We love this Psalm because it speaks of God's comforting presence in difficult times. We love the images of green pastures and still waters, because they speak of peacefulness and serenity. But, earlier readers of the Psalm likely would have heard something different. They would have heard a word about God's provision for his people. Green pastures suggest food and still waters a safe place to drink, things that sheep living in a desert climate couldn't take for granted. They trusted the shepherd to scout out and find food and water for them. They also had confidence that when trouble came, the shepherd would protect them.

The traditional rendering of verse 4 of Psalm 23 says: "though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil." It is this verse that leads so many people to choose it for funerals, but a better translation of the verse would be:

Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I fear no evil; for you are with me; your rod and your staff -- they comfort me.

The sheep have confidence that when they walk through even the darkest valley, their shepherd, armed with rod and staff, will not let anything happen to them. They will make it through the difficult times that face them. If God is our shepherd, we need not fear, for God stands with us.

3. RESPONDING TO THE MESSIAH

This discussion of the Good Shepherd comes in the midst of a discussion about the identity of the Messiah. The religious leaders of the day couldn’t accept Jesus in this role, because he didn’t act as they expected a Messiah to act. In John’s account, Jesus responds by telling them that their opposition stems from the fact that they’re simply not his sheep. If they had been his sheep, they would have known his voice, and responded to his promise of protection and security. I should point out here that there is another audience in mind as well – it’s the opponents of the Beloved Disciple. There was division in that early Christian community, and the one who wrote this account is speaking to them, calling on them to heed the voice of Jesus that came through him. Who is the Messiah, the one sent from God, the one who will speak a word of comfort, of challenge, and guidance? And will we know this voice?

Although we hear a word of comfort in the image of the Good Shepherd that doesn’t seem to be the point that John wants to make. He places this image in the midst of a discussion that Jesus has with these opponents that continue to question his authority to speak. So, when we hear Jesus talking about heeding the voice of the shepherd, he’s talking about allegiance, loyalty, and a willingness to follow.

There are many voices in the world that are calling out to us. The question is, which one will we hear and abide? I think sometimes we falter in our allegiance because we’re fearful. Maybe we’re afraid that God won’t come through in our time of need, and so we switch our allegiance to the one who promises us peace and security. And, in every age there are demagogues promising us peace and security, if only we will follow them. It’s tempting to listen and follow, but will these voices lead us through the darkest valleys?

Our hope lies in hearing and following the Messiah of God, the one who is the Good Shepherd. If we’re to do this, then it’s important to get to know this Shepherd’s voice, to learn the uniqueness of his call. This involves all of the Christian practices – prayer, study, meditation, conversation, listening, worshiping. Yes, sheep get lost only when they stop listening for the shepherd’s voice, and this happens when the sheep lose contact with the shepherd.

Remember the sheep have confidence in the shepherd because the shepherd has been there for them, and the same is true of us. Without taking exclusivist detours that build fences to keep others out of the conversation, there is in John’s message, the reminder that through an act of grace, God seeks out God’s sheep. Therefore, if we hear the Shepherd’s voice calling out to us, if we’re willing to attune ourselves to the Shepherd’s voice, then we can have confidence when we walk through the darkest of valleys of life, whether they are sickness, loss of jobs, a disaster, or death of a loved one. We have this confidence because we know that in Jesus, God has already gone before us and scouted out the path. If we stick close to him, we will make it through safely. That doesn't mean that the wolves won't nip at our heels, but the Lord is with us, to lead us safely through the danger.

*Barbara Brown Taylor quoted in Pulpit Resource, 29 (April, May, June 2001): 30.

Preached by:
Dr. Robert D. Cornwall
Pastor, Central Woodward Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)
Troy, Michigan
April 25, 2010
Fourth Sunday of Easter

An Unexpected Guest -- A Sermon

John 20:1-19

What would do you do if someone were to show up unexpectedly on your doorstep? It might be a parent or in-law, a long lost friend, or a mentor. You’re not expecting them to come to your house, so you have no way of preparing ahead of time. In such a case, how do you respond? Are you hospitable and welcoming? Are you apologetic? Or do you just shut the door?

Now, let me push this scenario a bit further: When the unexpected guest arrives at your doorstep are you ready for them to change the course of your life? Sort of like the late Ed McMahon showing up on your doorstep with a Publisher’s Clearing House check? Now, that would change your life, wouldn’t it?

This is a question that’s often raised in the biblical story. Consider the strangers who visit Abraham and Sarah while they are camping at the Oaks of Mamre. As was appropriate in their culture, Abraham invites the strangers in, offering them a place of rest and refreshment. In return, the travelers offer Abraham and Sarah a promise – they will have a child in their old age, and this child will fulfill the promise that God had made in covenanting with Abraham and Sarah, in their descendants God will bless the nations (Genesis 18:1-15).

Then, in Luke we read about a stranger who joins up with two disciples of Jesus, as they head for Emmaus. This stranger explains to them the gospel, but only later as they share a meal, do they realize that it was the risen Jesus who had been explaining the things of God to them (Luke 24:13ff).

Finally, there’s the story of strangers who show up on Peter’s doorstep, even as he is experiencing a vision. These visitors represent a Roman centurion named Cornelius. As a result of their visit, Peter hears the call to extend the gospel to the Gentile world (Acts 10-11).

So, who are the unexpected guests who have impacted your lives with their witness? Can you say, that you were willing to receive their witness? These are questions that are posed to us in the closing chapter of John’s Gospel.

1. Going Fishing

The story begins with seven men sitting on a beach along the Lake of Tiberias. It’s a familiar story, because when we become discouraged or anxious about the direction of our lives, we tend to return to what we know best. Peter was a fisherman, and along with six of his fellow disciples, all Galileans, he had returned home to the only life he’d known before he had encountered Jesus. In his anxiety, he simply says to his friends: “I’m going fishing.” And they respond: “We’ll go with you.” This might not be the response you’d expect from people who had seen the risen Christ and had received the Spirit of God from Jesus (John 20). Indeed, in the prior chapter, Thomas has his own doubts assuaged by Jesus, but now things seem much less certain than they appear at the end of chapter 20, where we read a very fitting conclusion to the Gospel:

“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” (Jn. 20:31).

That sounds so final, and yet someone decided to add an epilogue, another story to tidy things up. And in this epilogue, we encounter an unexpected guest with an unexpected word for us. After spending the night out on the lake, casting their nets in all of their favorite fishing holes, they return to the shore at daybreak empty-handed. Can you identify with these disciples? Have you busied yourself with other things, because you’re uncertain as to where God is leading? And when you do this, do you find yourself returning home empty-handed? Can you identify with their frustration?

2. Recognition of the Unexpected Guest

The story continues, and when the boat nears the shore the group of fishermen see someone standing on the beach, waving at them. They weren’t expecting anyone to be there to greet them on the beach, and so they’re even more surprised when the man yells out at them and tells this tired and disappointed group of fishermen to throw their nets out one more time, but this time on the right side of the boat. If you were one of the disciples, would you follow these directions given to you by a stranger? Or, would you laugh off the suggestion? I mean, why would they be more successful on the right of the boat than the left? But, as silly as it seems, they follow the stranger’s advice, and to their amazement, they pull in so many fish that they barely stay afloat. It’s such a big haul that you’d think the net would break, and yet it doesn’t.

In their moment of surprise, the Beloved Disciple recognizes the man on the shore, and he cries out: “It’s the Lord!” How does he know? How else could such a thing have happened? But, while the Beloved Disciple is the first to recognize Jesus, it’s Peter who acts upon this recognition. Peter is a man of action, and so he pulls on his clothes, which he has shed in the course of his work, and jumps into the water, and swims to shore, abandoning the catch. Peter seems to understand that his life no longer involves catching these kinds of fish. As he arrives, he discovers the stranger, busy building a fire and preparing breakfast. Yes, in a twist upon the usual story, it’s the unexpected guest, who offers hospitality – in this case a meal of fish and bread.

As the disciples eat this meal, they dare not ask who it is who has welcomed them, for they all recognized him. As with Luke’s account of Jesus’ encounter with the disciples heading toward Emmaus, recognition seems to happen as Jesus breaks and distributes bread. What is interesting is that John’s gospel doesn’t have an explicit description of Jesus instituting the Lord’s Supper. But, you will find instances where Jesus speaks of bread and fish and wine, and in each case, Jesus reveals something about himself to those who have ears to hear and eyes to see what God is doing in their midst. As you ponder this scene, do you hear a word about what happens when we break bread together at the Table. Do you begin to recognize the presence of Jesus at the Table, offering his life to you in the symbols of bread and cup?

Yes, where do you see Jesus present? Is he present in the meals we share with one another? Is he present in the stranger we encounter on the street? Do you see him in the person crying out in pain and suffering? This is the question of the hour – how do we recognize the Lord in our midst?

3. A Commission

This epilogue is not simply a story of recognition. It is also the story of a commissioning to service. John’s gospel closes with one of the most famous scenes in Scripture. Jesus enters into an intense conversation with Peter, who had denied knowing Jesus three different times on the night of his trial. Peter had promised to stand by him, to the bitter end, but he couldn’t fulfill his promise. Fear got the better of him, and now guilt and shame are eating at his soul. Knowing Peter’s heart, Jesus asks Peter three times, whether Peter loves him. Each time Jesus asks the question, Peter answers, “Yes Lord, You know I love you” And each time Jesus responds with a commission – “tend my sheep.” There is pain in Peter’s voice, but Jesus is offering forgiveness and healing so that Peter might fulfill his calling.

As we read this conversation, we might see in it the basis for commissioning pastors and elders to care for the flock. That would be an appropriate application. Jesus says to those who are called to leadership – if you love me then tend to my sheep. But is this word directed only to those called to church leadership? Or is it a word to all of us?

Remember the context here. According to the story, Peter has denied Jesus three times, and in this threefold call and response, Jesus heals Peter’s soul and restores him to fellowship. “Do you love me?” Jesus asks of Peter and us. In that question, Jesus acknowledges that Peter has denied him, even as we deny him, whether it is in word or in deeds. And each time that Peter responds with an acknowledgment of his love, Jesus reminds him of his calling.

Peter needed this word of assurance and reminder. After all, having been called to be a fisher of people, he had returned to a life of fishing for fish. He did this because he believed that his denials had compromised his ability to fulfill his calling. And while John’s gospel doesn’t include the commission to fish for people, I believe it’s appropriate to hear in this exchange a sense of that calling. Peter won’t be going back to his old life. Jesus has something else in store for him and for us.

Yes, the unexpected guest, who is standing by the lakeshore, is asking us: Do you love me? If we answer yes, then his response will be: then “feed my sheep.” Or, to put it a bit differently, Jesus is answering the question Cain posed to God: “Am I my brother’s keeper?” And, the answer is: “Yes, you are, if you love me.”

 

 

Preached by:

Dr. Robert D. Cornwall

Pastor, Central Woodward Christian Church (Disciples of Christ)

Troy, MI

Third Sunday of Easter

April 18, 2010

WWJT? (Who Would Jesus Torture?)

A Christian radio show host asked me the other day how I could, as a believer, be cool with waterboarding terrorists for intel crucial to our national security—or, as I like to call it, the implementation of the Irrigation for Information Act. Irrigation sounds so much more pleasant than torture, oui? Oui.

I told my inquiring host that as a patriotic white male Christian redneck, as far as I can deduce from the holy text, Jesus and the balance of Scripture seem to be okay with dunking Achmed if said butt munch has the 411 regarding the 10/20 of the next mass slaughter of innocent Americans. Call me crazy. I’m well aware, however, that I could be committing an exegetical error given the fact that I’m white and male and all. This is my cross.

Please note: If Christ wasn’t cool with irrigating irate Islamicists for facts, I must admit, I would still have to green light our boys getting data from enemy combatants 007 style. Stick a fire hose up their tailpipe and turn it on full blast. I don’t care. I’m not as holy as most of you super saints or as evolved as some of you progressive atheists purport to be. Security beats spirituality in this scenario, as far as I’m concerned.

Now, as you can imagine, the holier-than-I show host was a tad bit taken aback by my confidence and giddiness over teaching captured terrorists how to snorkel minus the snorkeling gear if it would keep our country safe. He saw that as somehow incongruent with the Clay Aikenization of the sassy Christ a stack of Americans now worship. He then asked me, in kind of a tsk-tsk tone, for a proof text or two from Jesus’ lips and la Biblia that would come even close to him wishing or implementing ill on those who would harm or kill the innocent. This was like taking candy from a baby for me.

How’s this for starters, Slappy? In John 2:12-17 Jesus whipped religious hacks who were turning God’s temple into a Costco for religious crap. According to San Juan’s account, it was the second thing Jesus did after John baptized him in the river Jordan. The first thing he did was turn water into wine. That’s two things lame evangelicals can’t imagine Jesus doing: making wine or using a whip, but I digress.

Yep, Jesus opened up a can of whup ass on charlatans in the temple. He didn’t pray for them or write them an angry email with the caps lock on or call them “man-made religious disasters” that we need to apologize to for forcing them to sell overpriced spiritual curios. Nope, he methodically sat down, got ticked, made a whip and cleared the punks.

Having that snapshot of Christ violently snapping on the 1st century televangelists in the temple, I’m a thinkin’ that if he got that riled up over overpriced Precious Moments figurines, personally whipped the culprits for it and then ransacked their product display tables, more than likely he would be cool with submerging a couple of murderous morons who have information regarding the pending liquidation of thousands of innocent civilians. (And by the way, I’ll take water in the face over a whip to the back any day of the week.)

If you still think he would have problems with waterboarding the wicked who have the poop on potential terror plots, then what do you do with the story of Noah’s Ark? Correct me if I’m wrong, but those chumps got waterboarded to the max, right? Aw, what’s the matter? Does that 411 not fit with the Jesus you made up? Shame.

Not only did Jesus flog greedy religious freaks, he, along with the Father and the Holy Spirit, created this little place called hell for the wicked—which makes Gitmo look like a Chuck E. Cheese. Although, come to think of it, Chuck E. Cheese is quite hellish. Bad analogy. You get my point.

In Matthew 18:6 Jesus said if you harmed a little kid it would be better for you to have a chunk of concrete tied around your neck and tossed into the drink off Miami Beach compared to what the Trinity has prepared for you in eternity (author’s paraphrase). Sounds bad, eh? Worse than waterboarding? I’m thinking . . . yeah.

And then we have the book of Revelation. Yikes. This book is one chapter after another of agony on steroids for those that war against that which is holy, just and good.

So, once again, I’m kinda thinkin’ Hey-Soos wouldn’t blink at how cautiously and methodically our intelligence gents have been in pouring some Zephyr Hills down Habeeb’s nostrils in the hope that such “torture” will make him spill the beans regarding his posse’s plans.

Y’know, maybe I would be more empathetic toward the terrorists who wish to kill us if I were a Hispanic woman from the Bronx, but alas, I ain’t. So, I say, in the name of Jesus, water baptize the bastards for an extra minute or two if that’ll persuade them to unveil their buddy’s macabre machinations.

Granted, it’s always great and right to err on the side of civility, except of course when saving many lives trumps the uncomfortable nature of sticking a garden hose in a terrorist’s snout.

WWJD indeed!

WRITTEN by Doug Giles at TownHall.com on May 30th, 2009

Will the Real Jesus Please Stand Up?

Like many Catholics of their generation, Daniel Harrington's family wasn't made up of Bible readers. Harrington recalls two Protestants coming to his house when he was a child. "We'd like to discuss the Bible,"they said, to which his mother replied, "We're Catholics. We don't read the Bible."

Harrington, however, has spent his professional life helping Catholics do just that, not only by teaching scripture for decades but by preaching Sunday after Sunday in the same two parishes for many years. "One of the pastors used to stand at the entrance of the church and tell people they got three college credits for the liturgy," Harrington says of his preaching style.

For Harrington, though, reading the Bible is not just intellectual but spiritual as well. "Immersing oneself in scripture won't necessarily make this or that decision easier for you," he says. "But it does help answer big questions such as: Who am I? What is my goal in life? And how do I get there?"

Harrington admits that Catholics have yet to fully embrace the Bible as their own. "I think religious education perhaps hasn't emphasized the Bible enough," he says. "But the Sunday readings are a great tool for people to learn the Bible. People sometimes don't realize how much Bible they're exposed to."

Harrington sees facilitating that encounter as part of his job. "A preacher has to help people get familiar with the scriptures-and not be afraid of them."

Pope Benedict XVI's book Jesus of Nazareth (Ignatius) makes a very strong point that the gospels present Jesus as not simply a human figure but a divine figure as well. And if you read the gospels with sympathy and not fight against them, I think you have to acknowledge that the pope has made a very important theological point.

Can you introduce Jesus through the lens of each one of the four gospels?
They all share a common stock of titles: Son of Man, Son of God, Son of David, Lord, Messiah. Those are foundational. But they each take a distinctive approach to the figure of Jesus.

For Matthew Jesus is a teacher, and so he has Jesus giving five great speeches, beginning with the Sermon on the Mount in Chapters 5 through 7. While Mark wants to show that Jesus is a wise teacher and a powerful healer, in that gospel Jesus is also the suffering Messiah.

For Luke Jesus is the great example. In other words he practices what he preaches. This comes up especially in Luke's narrative of the death of Jesus, in which Luke highlights three things that Jesus taught throughout his career: forgiveness of enemies; giving hope to marginal people, such as the so-called good thief; and trust in God, as in Jesus' last words, "Into your hands I commend my spirit" (Luke 23:46).

In John, Jesus is the revealer and the revelation of God. He's the Word of God in the sense that he reveals what's on God's mind, but also he's the revelation of God in the sense that if you want to know what God is like, look to the person of Jesus.

What about Paul? How does he present Jesus?
Paul emphasizes almost entirely Jesus' death and Resurrection and their significance. He's interested in the saving effects of Jesus' paschal mystery. Only a few times does he ever quote a teaching of Jesus. And in one case-the teaching about marriage and divorce-Paul seems to give an exception to Jesus' absolute rejection of divorce.

Paul didn't meet Jesus personally. His experience was with the risen Christ on the road to Damascus. Obviously it was such an overwhelming experience that it changed everything in his life.

What if you only had five passages to introduce Jesus to people - your five favorites from across the gospels?
I'd start with the prologue to John's gospel (1:1-18). It provides the New Testament context for the divinity of Jesus and echoes back to Genesis, which also starts, "In the beginning." I think it's a very important text.

The Sermon on the Mount, Matthew 5 through 7, outlines what the disciple of Jesus should strive for and includes the Beatitudes.

Another would be Mark 8, the confession of Peter. That's a great turning point in Mark's gospel, as it is in all the other gospels.

The prodigal son, only in Luke (15:11-32), would be a representative parable because it emphasizes God's mercy and raises the question of what happened to the older son. We never find out whether he decided to change his mind and go to the party, or whether he just ran away.

And obviously the fifth and final would be the Passion narrative. I like all of the death scenes, but especially the hearing of Jesus before the high priest in Mark 14:62. All through Mark's gospel, when people would give Jesus titles such as Messiah or Son of Man, he would say, "No, no, keep this silent." He only publicly accepts the titles of Messiah, Son of God, and Son of Man at his lowest possible moment-that is, when he's been condemned by his own people. The truth is that he can only be understood on the cross.

If you could have been present for any of the gospel stories, which one would it be?
The first chapter of Mark's gospel beginning with verse 21. Mark presents it as a typical day in the ministry of Jesus with teaching, healing, and all sorts of interesting things. It takes place in Capernaum, one of the most beautiful places on earth, beside the Sea of Galilee, a beautiful setting, unspoiled still. Every time I visit there I read the first chapter of Mark.

WRITTEN by the editors of U.S. Catholic as an interview with Daniel Harrington, S.J. and published on May 26th, 2009. The above is an edited version. For the full version, as always, the title is a link to the original article.

The Greatest Question Ever Asked

About a half century ago, literally on the other side of the world, the Reverend Billy Graham was delivering one of his typical fire and brimstone sermons 'Down Under' in Australia. The theme of his sermon that day revolved around what he called "the greatest question ever asked by any man." That questioner to whom he was referring was a bit notorious. It was Pontius Pilate, the first century Prefect of the Roman province of Judaea who has become legend for having condemned Jesus Christ to death by crucifixion. While being questioned by Pilate, Jesus stated "...for this I came into the world, to testify to the Truth. Everyone on the side of truth listens to me." Pilate responded with his simple question that has resounded through history as that greatest ever to be asked: "What is truth?" However, Pilate asks his question dismissively of Christ. As he asks the question, he waves Jesus off and walks away, as if to say 'yeah, right' or 'gimme a break'. But it is not as if Jesus Christ had never answered this question, for he had done so on numerous occasions previously, and none more famously than is presented in the Gospel of John. In John 14:6, Christ proclaims that he is "the Way, the Truth, and the Life." Today's world is full of what have become known as 'relativists' who claim, as the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche said: "You have your way. I have my way. As for the right way, the correct way, and the only way, it does not exist." In philosophical circles, this has become known as 'Moral Relativism', that what is right for you is right, and what is right for me is right. There is one huge problem with all of this, of course. No two individuals, or groups of people, or religions can always both be 'right' in a relative way. If I claim that a certain patch of land is mine, and you claim that same patch of land is yours, then we have a legitimate dispute that cannot be resolved by any claim that we are both right. The fact is that, as Reverend Graham put it on that evening in Australia, when Jesus Christ makes the statement that he is "..the Way, the Truth, and the Life" he did not stop there. His statement finished with "No one comes to the Father except through me." This leaves you, that means anyone reading this, anyone who has been in existence since that time who has heard that claim, with only two choices. Either Jesus Christ was everything that he said he was, or he is a liar, a fraud, and a scoundrel. Your choice. That is the basis of the entirety of man's decision making process since the time of the beginnings of Christianity. The great joy is that so many have come to understand the ultimate truthful answer, that Jesus Christ is indeed the Way to a personal relationship with God, that he is the Truth of existence in every word that he ever spoke, and that he is the Life that we all seek in eternity. Christianity rose from the humble beginnings of a few dozen close followers to the largest belief system on the planet in just over two millenia. It did so despite being the direct target of those who would have stamped it out wholly and utterly, at times when it appeared the odds of its survival were insurmountable. It ultimately grew strong and prospered because at its very heart is that ultimate Truth that is the answer to the greatest question that any man has ever posed. The answer to Pontius Pilate's question of "What is truth?" is Jesus Christ. If you haven't come to that realization yet, I implore you to look closer. Get yourself a Bible, turn to the New Testament, and read Christ's words. They will inspire you if you have never taken that time before, and the more you read, the more you will understand. The more you understand, the more the Holy Spirit will fill your life. The more the Spirit moves within you, the closer you will get to understanding and accepting that Truth. And as we have come to know, the Truth shall set you free.