Let Jesus Show

 

sermon by Carrie Eikler

John 13:31-35

April 28, 2013

The American writer and theologian, Fredrick Buechner, told a story…
a story that happened to a friend of his,
an Episcopal priest.

This priest was officiating at a Christmas Eve service in his parish.

And as happens at many Christmas Eve services

or Christmas pageants,

the children were decked out in their neo-nativity finest:

as I can imagine, wise men with towels hung on their heads,

angels with cardboard cut out wings.

Sheep, in white sweatsuits.
 

In the middle of the service,

probably long before the final Christmas carol was to be sung,

the time came for the entire child entourage

to descend upon the crèche.

Children scuttled away from their parents

proclaiming that buoyant declaration:

Peace on Earth! Goodwill to All!
 

Now the children gathered and gathered and gathered

around the Holy Family.

And one little angel, who was much shorter than the rest

was unwillingly relegated to the back

the fringes of the crowd.

And as the scuttling quieted, her frustration rose and she shouted

“Let Jesus Show!”
 

Buechner said that his priest friend recalls doing the boldest thing

he has ever done in a worship service.

He ended the service right there.

And he proclaimed the benediction.

There was no better message for that group

gathered on that Holy Night

to walk away with.

No simple proclamation that Jesus had come,

but a command,

one that Christ himself echoed to his disciples:

Let Jesus show.
 

--

Aparenting blog I have been reading recently has been

talking about communicating and showing love to children

through how we talk to them.

Some of this advice, I should say,

also works with most grown up people you communicate with.

The advice is this: when considering whatto say,

especially to children, (who only have so much space and attention

in those lovely, energetic, processing minds)

consider if the words you are about to say are

true, necessary, and kind.

Is what you are going to say true, necessary, and kind?
 

And then the article suggests a bit of kid connection.

Get close to them in proximity –that is, don’t shout an order from another room

and expect a four year old to eagerly respond.

Get close to them.

Look them in the eye.

Speak firmly, but with soft eyes.

Give a loving touch, even just on the shoulder or arm.
 

And of course, repeat what you say if it seems like they aren’t getting it.

Repeatto them. Havethem repeat .

And as you repeat , filter again what you are going to say:

is it true, necessary, and kind?
 

Now we might not have to take all these steps when communicating with adults,

(but it might not hurt in some circumstances).

But it sure seems like Jesus knew a little

contemporary parenting when it came to talking to his

little children…I mean, disciples.
 

Gather them close, look them in eye, speak firmly, give a loving touch. Repeat.
 

Let Jesus show.
 

One of the last things Jesus asks of his disciples-

asked of us--

is to draw near to him by

drawing near to each other.

He says, in his ever-so cryptic way

(and here, this is not good parenting skills,

cryptic doesn’t really work very well)

he tells him in his Jesus-sort of way

that he won’t be here forever.

 

That if they want to maintain this sense of closeness to him

they have to get close,

perhaps uncomfortably close,

to each other.

To love each other.

Not just say they love each other,

to shout it from another room, like

“I love you and while you’re at it go get Jesus a donkey”

But to love each other

and show it

a “get down and wash that person’s funky smelling feet,”

type of love for each other.

In a way, Jesus is getting out to those following him

his last will and testament.

It is his swan song. He’s making sure to

hit home the most important of things.

His legacy, if you will.

 

Think about it,

if you were sitting around the supper table

with the closest of your friends, your family,

and you knew you would never gather with them like this again

(and coincidently, your guests don’t know that),

what would you say to them?

What would you want to pass on as your legacy?

For Jesus, it’s love.

I love you.

And you must love one another.

I wonder if the disciples were a bit baffled by that.

I mean, Jesus had given all sorts of discourses on love:

love your neighbor as yourself

love your enemies and do good to those who persecute you.

Repeat.

 

So it shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

But I wonder how it felt for him to say love each other.

Did Simon Peter give a sideways glance at Philip

and give an inward sigh?

Did James burrow his eyes into his brother,

still feeling like mom always liked John the best?

And Judas…Judas? Where has Judas gone?

2,000 years later it doesn’t really come as a surprise to us,

to hear Jesus talking about love.

We know it.

We’ve heard it countless times.

Repeat, repeat. Repeat back to me.

 

And as any parent or child will tell you,

repeating can get boring.

But repeating shows the importance of the

statement, or command, or plea.

Especially if it is truthful, necessary, and kind.

 

How you hear “love one another” today

is likely not how you thought of love one another 15 years ago,

25 years ago. 10 months ago. 3 days ago.

Or how you will hear it,

in one year, or seven years.

--

Here, in this place, in this time

what or who or what situation do you think of

when you hear “love one another as I have loved you,

by this they will know who you are, if you love one another.

[pause]

A lot of things come to my mind.

But I’ve been thinking a lot about the bombing in Boston

and the capture of Dzokhar Tsarnaev

There is so much for Christians to put their faith into practice here.

How do we forgive? Where is restorative justice?

But I’ve also been thinking about all this can call us to love.

 

I’ve had to reel in my critical (OK, cynical) nature at times in the past two weeks.

This is the part of me that wants to look at the situation and say

3 people dead is nothing

compared the 100 dead each day in Syria, according to UN reports.

Or the 175 children who, to date, have died in US drone attacks around the world.

 

This comparison of misery…this, is not a good attitude to have.

 

So, I’m trying to have Jesus’ message
look me in the eye, get close, repeat, now repeat back.

Love one another.
Here, I’m trying to have love deepen my compassion and empathy
wherever violence happens.

in Boston. in Sandy Hook, in Syria, on the south side of Chicago, in a residential neighborhood in Florida.

I willtry send out love
I will recognize they are there,
even though they don’t look like me
or talk like me
or live in my country

or worship like me.
 

I willtry to send them my love

even though they do look like me

or talk like me

or live in my country

or worship like me.

 
 

I will send out love.
However I can muster that

each day.
And that is how, I pray,

people will know that

God dwells in me, richly.

And yet, I realize,

again,

Jesus here, in this upper room,

Jesus is talking to those immediately around him.

He did say love your neighbor as you love yourself,

(and we look over our fences, and over our borders)

He did say love your enemies and do good to those who persecute you

(and we look into the jail cell of a young Chechen)

AND, and, and and…

he draws our gaze in closer
and says love each other.

That person you breathe next to at night
That child who makes you want to pull your hair out.That co-worker you see everyday who…makes you want to pull your hair out.

The person sitting in front and to the right of you here in worship.
Those within your intimate circle.

They are your practicum. They are your internship.

Your home, church, workplace. That is your testing ground

The place where you can make it real, not just an nice idea from the bible.
The place you can most easily—

but perhaps with great difficulty,

Let Jesus Show.

“Where I am going you cannot come. I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. by this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Amen.

A Lively Spirit

sermon by Torin Eikler
John 10:1-10, 22-30    Acts 9:36-43

The Lord is my shepherd;

            I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures:
            he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul:
            he leadeth me paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
            I will fear no evil: for though art with me;
                        thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:
            Thou anointest my head with oil;
                        my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life:
            and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.
 
I think I am safe in venturing a guess that those words are familiar to all of us in one form or another.  I have heard them at funerals, weddings, baby dedications, baptisms, and bible schools.  They are in the lectionary at least twice every year (three times this year, I think), and that’s very understandable because the image of the shepherd caring for the flock is powerfully.

God is the shepherd who led the people out of Egypt, the shepherd who guides them into the Promised Land, the shepherd who gathered them back to Israel after they were dispersed by the Babyloninas.  God is the shepherd spoken of in Ezekiel – the one who will search out the sheep, rescuing them from lonely places they have come to call home – the one who will feed and protect them – the one who will send a Messiah to call them back to the memory and promise of their God.  And, of course, Jesus speaks of himself as the Good Shepherd in John.

Yes, the image of the Good Shepherd is well-known and well-loved, and it does a wonderful job of portraying a part of what Jesus is to us.… And that is why we skipped over it this morning.  Usually it falls between the two passages that we heard, but when it comes up, we tend to focus on it and let the other images float away … which means that we miss out on something important – Jesus, the gateway to the true life.

As Gail O’Day puts it:

Jesus is more than the good shepherd for who Israel [waited], because he is also the gate for the sheep.  Jesus is the way to [life], and he leads the way to life.  While these are closely related, they are not the same thing.  Jesus is the way to life because he is himself life….

All who gather around Jesus receive their identity as members of the flock.  [They] are the ones who share in the mutual knowledge of God and Jesus….  Listening to Jesus’ voice is the source of [their] unity, [and] by taking Jesus as [their] point of access to God, the community receives abundant life….[1]

 

Abundant life – the promise of God in Christ.  The promise that the chosen people had been holding onto for generations – holding on and falling away.  The hope of a life full of the power and presence of God, and Jesus was offering himself as the gate.  But, it wasn’t for everyone.  I don’t mean to say that any are excluded from the goodness and mercy of God, yet it is clear that only those who hear the voice of Christ and follow its call will find the way.

 

That doesn’t seem like such a big thing to us – listening to the voice of the shepherd … following it through the gate to life.  We have the whole testament of the Christian community to guide and reassure us, but it was a concern for the first generation of believers.  Many of them remembered Jesus.  Some of them had sat at his feet and followed him, learning the way to life.  A few had been chosen to receive the gift of the Holy Spirit and had been empowered to carry on the teaching and the healing – to carry on the mission of bringing others through the gate.  But what about the others?  What about those who had come to believe after the resurrection?  What about the next generation – the people who weren’t even alive during the time Jesus walked the earth?

The first apostles were aging.  Many who had known Jesus personally had already died, and the rest would soon no longer be present to witness to their direct experience with Jesus.  What would happen then?  Would the church become lost without the voice of Christ to lead it?  Would the power of the Spirit continue to live and speak in the community of believers or would the church take on a sort of half-life – a sad echo of the abundance promised and experienced by the first generation? 

They did have the stories at least – stories of Paul’s conversion and Peter’s dreams … stories of people being whisked across the miles to share the good news of Christ … stories of the healing of men like Aeneas who was given back control of his body after eight years … stories, even, of the resurrection of faithful believers like Tabitha.  It was almost like Jesus was still with them.

At first glance, those stories don’t seem like they would have provided all that much comfort to the people who were worried about the future.  These miracles were all performed by hand-picked disciples after all.  They came at the hands of those who had been given the power to do such things by Jesus himself.  But, if we look more closely we find that none of these wonders were claimed by the men who did them.  They were always attributed to the Spirit.

In fact, as Dr. Heinz Guenther noted, the main character of Acts is “neither Peter nor Paul, but the Holy Spirit.  [So,] ‘The Acts of the Apostles’ is really the wrong name.  They are the ‘helpers’ who carry out ‘The Acts of the Spirit.’  They are always successful because in this ‘salvation history,’ … they function under the protection of the Spirit and nothing can go wrong.…  [All] the miracle stories and missionary activities of the apostles” really tell the story of the lively Spirit that lived in the community of believers.[2]

 

The Spirit of God was at work in the early church.  It was the Spirit who guided them.  It was the Spirit who empowered them.  And it was the Spirit who spoke through them, calling all to come and enter the gate … enter and find abundant life.  It didn’t matter that Jesus was not with them.  All those stories were telling them – reassuring them - that the Spirit was alive and at work among them.

And, I have stories to tell too.  I have stories to tell because the Spirit of God is alive and moving in this community of faith – alive and at work in us just as it was in the early church.  I hear about it from Sue and Terry when they tell stories about sitting with others and helping them through their grief.  I see it in the relationships that Linda builds with the women she helps learn English in her reading group.  I notice it each time a light bulb is changed or a leak fixed.  It touches my life when I feel the willingness – even eagerness – of this congregation to support Circle of Friends.  And I experienced it on a profound level at the retreat last weekend.

When we gathered there in the cabin there was more than a little anxiety in the air.  We were hoping to step back and take a look at the difficult situation this congregation faces, and that kind of work is never a very exciting prospect.  So, we were quiet and subdued as we ate our dinner together – at least as quiet as it is possible to be when one is eating good food with friends.

And then, as we sat together throughout the weekend, I felt the spirit of the group changing.  We shared our fears and frustrations, and we moved through them.  As we worshipped and sang together … as we brainstormed entirely new ideas … as we looked at ourselves and found energy and giftedness and passion in our fellowship … as we talked together, the Spirit spoke to and through us. 

For me, the great gift of the weekend was not all the work that we did (though that work planted the seed of new life and growth for the congregation).  It was the change in us.  We began walking in the valley of the shadow of death with despair close on our heals, but as we talked together … as we dreamed together, we were led back down the path to the gate of life.  Together, we walked through that gate, and, together, we discovered hope and abundance and joy.

The Spirit of God is at work in this congregation, … and it is a lively Spirit!  It offers us guidance.  It supports and empowers us.  And it speaks through us – words of hope and promise … words of grace and joy … a message of welcome and acceptance that invites us – invites us and all who hear to leave behind despair and death and walk through the gate … walk through it and find abundant life.

---

[1] O’Day, Gail R.. “The Gospel of John: Introduction, Commentary, and Reflections” in The New Interpreter’s Bible: A Commentary in Twelve Volumes, Volume IX (Abingdon Press, Nashville) 1995.  672.

[2] As quoted by John Shearman in email to Midrash on April 14, 2013.

Reflection at Congregational Retreat

(our congregational held a retreat at Chestnut Ridge Park this weekend.  Sunday service was outside in a beautiful environment.  The congregation gathered around the campfire lifting up prayers and songs.  This was my short reflection in lieu of a sermon)

Luke 24:13-35 (The Journey to Emmaus

The scripture that we read today is the scripture we have been dwelling with during our retreat

We have been talking about the journey

the journey we have been on

the journey God is preparing us for.

It only felt appropriate to use the journey to Emmaus

as our guiding scripture.

There is a lot to unpack in these 23 verses

a lot to “chew on” so to speak

Many thoughts arose this weekend about how

it speaks to us today

 

One of the many things I like about this scripture is

the recognition in hindsight.

Those who Jesus talked to on the road, those travelers who

didn’t recognize him

recognized him only after he broke bread with them.

only after he did such a common yet important act.

How many of us might recognize God in more and more people

if we sit down to a meal with them?

 

But it’s not just that they recognized him then,

they also recall something,

like, wait.  Maybe we knew something was up with that guy.

They say “were not our hearts burning within us while

he was talking to us on the road?”

Have you ever experienced something like that,

that hindsight 20/20?

You look back on experiences or people or events and think

wow.  God was there, or

God was with me,

or someone was really…God to me.

 

I like to wonder what it felt like to them,

this burning.

Was it like heartburn?

a little divine indigestion?

I remember as a kid, one of the many things I worried about

after the rapture, tornadoes, and the hole in the ozone layer

(I worried a lot as a kid)

was the possibility of spontaneous human combustion.

Somehow I heard that there were rare cases where people

spontaneously caught on fire.

.

Were these disciples fearful,

that they would spontaneously combust?

 

Probably not physically. 

Perhaps, a bit, spiritually.

Goodness knows they had already been… emotionally.

 

As many of you know Patrick and I visited my parents two weeks ago.

My family lives on a farm in west-central Illinois, about an hour or so from St. Louis.

It is very different than the topography we see around us today.

But it is beautiful in its own unique way.

This farm has been in my mother’s family since 1833. 

It has been through 7 generations.

We have over 300, much is tillable fields, but a lot is also in timber, pasture, house

For the past 10 years, however, my parents have put some of that land back into

prairie grass and prairie flower restoration.

One of the necessary maintenance tasks with prairie grass and flowers is

the burning.

Each spring my mom and dad set off to the fields with neon yellow fire proof suits

water cannons, tall “flappers” to flap out any wandering flames.

I got to help again this year.  Together, my dad and I had some father daughter bonding time

in our matching neon suits, as we stood in silent affection

watching prairie grass a blazing

making sure nothing got into the timber, all fires were put out, etc. etc.

 

Now my dad has been doing this for many years.

I’ve helped him one other time.

And let me tell you (this is probably more a Pentacost story than an Emmaus story)

I was a little bit nervous.

The fire would silently and quickly burn down certain grasses

but when it came up bigger patches, taller patches *wooosh* huge flames

so hot

it felt like

it was

burning

within

me

 

We don’t burn the grass not to destroy it.

Or we are pyromaniachs (but I’ll admit, there is an adrenaline rush)

We burn it because the prairie needs fire to exist.

Fire preserves and sustains the prairie ecosystem

removing old growth, controlling the spread of harmful species

puts nutrients back into the soil.

It improves wildlife habitat and enhances plant communities.

 

But it sure is ugly right after it happens.

Blackened, charred to a crisp, smoking, desolate.

 

That’s probably the burning in the heart of the people in despair.

The “post Good Friday-pre Easter people.”

But the “road to Emmaus people”

They are the spiritual ecosystems

that recognize the burning of Christ within them.

 

We…we are road to Emmaus people.

It may seem that things are burning around us

fires we can’t put out.

But we are road to Emmaus people

God’s fire

will sustains our spiritual home, our spiritual ecosystem

God’s fire

will remove old growth and control the spread of despair

God’s fire

will puts nutrients back into our soil.

 

Our task

is to channel God’s fire, burning within us…

we, Road to Emmaus people…

to improve our habitat—our congregation

to use God’s fire to enhances who we are as a community.

 

No, the fields at my family farm don’t look so pretty right now.

But I know, when I go back in July

the grass will be tall and reaching for the sun

the flowers will be an array of yellow, blues, and purples.

There will be rabbits and frogs and bees and swallows.

New life.

 

 

 

 

Freed to Share

sermon by Torin Eikler
John 20:19-27             Acts 5:27-32

Our story begins, today, with the much maligned Thomas.  Thomas the doubter … Thomas the disciple who refused to believe in the resurrection without proof … Thomas the man who had the gall to actually stick his fingers in the wounds on Jesus’ hands…  Thomas.

Some of us (raise hand) have spent a significant amount of time and energy over the years defending Thomas.  Most of us grant him a measure of grace and understanding just as Jesus did.  But, I think that we also hold him in contempt just a little bit … or at least we pity him. We are the ones who are blessed to believe without seeing after all.  We are the ones who have faith without needing proof.

And yet, we are a people of the scientific approach on the whole.  We explore the world around us through our senses, and we demand proof whenever we are faced with something new or different, especially when it’s something that doesn’t seem to fit with what we are familiar with.  I would even hazard a guess that faith is the probably the only thing that we take … on faith.  Maybe one of a few things, but all the rest of what we “know” comes to us from our experience or the experience of others who, we trust, have done the necessary and proper work to prove that it is true. 

That’s not so different from the way Thomas seems to have seen the world … at least from the little that we know.  He was a reasonable man … something of a skeptic perhaps, but reasonable … a pragmatist.  He believed in the miracles that Jesus had performed, and he accepted Jesus’ authority … trusted his words.  But this was different … something new and difficult to believe.  Sure others had been raised from the dead (some even in his presence), but if the words of the disciples were to be believed, Jesus had escaped the tomb by himself – no voice to call him back, no one to breathe life back into him, no hands to unwind his shroud or lift to his feet, no crowd of people to roll away the door.  He did it all by himself.  This was unprecedented, impossible, and Thomas just wanted something … some proof before he would believe … believe and hope and risk the agony and despair of being wrong.

But, while that attitude was a tiny little stumbling block to his experience of the resurrection and the joy and freedom that it brought to other disciples, it was also the thing that let him continue to function during those three days that Jesus was in the tomb.

The others were afraid.  They were devastated at the loss of their friend – the man who had taught and amazed and inspired and led them for the past three years.  He was gone, and all the signs pointed toward the authorities coming after them too.  They would be better off if they finished cleaning up this mess after all.  Even if those threats hadn’t been so very real, they would still have had to face the jeers and judgment of the crowds who had so recently cheered Jesus.  So, they cowered together behind a locked door and prayed that no soldiers would show up and take them to face the “justice” that awaited them.  What else could they do?  Without proof, none of them believed they had any hope let alone good news to share.  Ironically, locking themselves away did the authorities job just as well as they could have … at least for awhile.

Only reasonable, pragmatic, “Doubting Thomas” had the courage to be out and about.  As he put it in the monologue, “It was good while it lasted, but I knew I had to face facts:” Jesus was gone, the glory days were over, and the authorities might be after them, but they still had to eat and they needed to know the lay of the land if they were ever going to leave that room.  And that way of thinking freed Thomas to go and do what needed to be done despite the danger.

 

I have a strange question to ask you now....  Have any of you ever been arrested by the police?  Okay ... there are a couple, but most of you haven't had the pleasure.  I have not been quite as fortunate.  No, I haven’t actually been arrested, but I have been “harassed” a couple of times.  Once was when I was living and working on the south side of Chicago.  I had been out running some errands, and on my way back I was pulled over, pulled out of my van, frisked, and interrogated by a couple of police officers who insisted that “white guys only came to that part of the city for drugs or sex.”  The questioning went on for about ten minutes despite my insistence that I was volunteering at Su Casa Catholic Worker House and my repeated invitation to go the 50 feet to the building and ask them to confirm my story.

The other time I was “escorted” to the police station and fingerprinted as a suspect in the theft of my aunt’s car which had disappeared the night before when a couple of my friends and I had spent the night.  They me go after I agreed to return for a lie-detector test if they felt the need.  The car was discovered three days later on a side road two miles away much the worse for the wear.

Both of those experiences are still so clear in my memory despite the 15 years of a very full life that have passed since then.  They are still vivid because I was so afraid of what would happen.  Afraid and trapped at the questionable mercy of the authorities who, in the one case, never took their hands off their guns and, in the other, had me sitting in cell with the door locked.

Even though I was not really under the threat of death, I can appreciate what drove the disciples into that room, and I think I have an inkling of the courage it took for Thomas to leave.

So what happened to those sad, terrified men?  Something brought about a pretty big change.  On the one hand we have a handful of people cowering in a room with the door locked.  On the other hand we have disciples sharing their message just a few days later…  and not just sharing.  They were speaking boldly, passionately, and with authority without regard for the power or the penalties the high priests’ court threatened. 

Standing in front of the same people who executed the teacher they now call Lord, they didn’t offer a defense or an excuse.  Instead, they simply explained about their vibrant and living relationship with God who they knew with an intimacy and certainty that trumped all other claims to obedience.  In the face of anger and the threat of violence, they responded as that relationship demanded:  by simply proclaiming the irrepressible love they had come to know so fully in their experience of Christ.  In short, they did what needed to be done.

Speaking of the profound transformation wrought in these men by the blessing of the risen Christ, Marilyn Chandler McEntyre says:

I am struck not just by their courage in speaking truth to power but by the simplicity and clarity of their response to accusation. With such clarity there is little need for defiance. Their point is not to argue in their own defense but to bear witness to the one they must obey. Must is a key word: what compels them can’t be argued away because it is not matter for argument. Bearing witness is not the same as making a case.

I am even more struck by the disciples’ freedom. The high priests don’t have power over them; the disciples live outside their jurisdiction: as they are no longer under the law, the agents of the law cannot bind them. No longer afraid of death, they are free indeed. In a few bold sentences they tell a story that is more invitation than defense, offering great good news to the very people who killed their Beloved.[1]

Our “high priests” are not so deadly.  Even our police, guns and all, are mostly just intimidating.  But the opinion and judgment of the society that surrounds us inspires their own particular brand of fear.  None of us want to face embarrassment or humiliation at the hands of friends and neighbors.  None of us want to see people laughing at us or to find ourselves dismissed – ignored because we are too weird or seem to be fanatics.  And we certainly don’t want to find ourselves isolated and alone having scared off our friends and perhaps even our families.  (That’s the worst one.)

So, we put up walls of our own making and a door that can only be opened from the inside.  We lock up the voice of our faith inside so that it won’t come out an offend anyone.  We turn away from the moments when we could share the Good News that we hold onto.  We silence ourselves more effectively than any authorities could. 

And yet … we are not alone in that room.  God is there with us.  The Spirit of Christ sits there with us offering the same grace and benediction that Christ shared with the disciples:  “Peace be with you.”  Do not be afraid.  I am with you always.  Comfort … comfort … and then a challenge: Let my light shine in you.  Go.  Leave this locked room and share the joy that lives at the heart of your faith.  Share it so that you can live and be free.  Share it so that others might live and be free.

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[1] McEntyre, Marilyn Chandler.  “Living by the Word,” The Christian Century: Thinking Critically, Living Faithfully, April 3, 2013.  20.