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"Getting to Emmaus" April 30, 2017

4/30/2017

Once upon a time king who decided to set aside a special day to honor his greatest subject. When the big day arrived, there was a large gathering in the palace courtyard. Four finalists were brought forward, and from these four, the king would select the winner.

     The first person presented was a wealthy philanthropist. The king was told that this man was highly deserving of the honor because of his humanitarian efforts. He had given much of his wealth to the poor.

     The second person was a celebrated physician. The king was told that this doctor was highly deserving of the honor because she had rendered faithful and dedicated service to the sick for many years.

    The third person was a distinguished judge. The king was told that the judge was worthy because he was noted for his wisdom, his fairness, and his brilliant decisions.

     The fourth person presented was an elderly woman. Everyone was quite surprised to see her there, because her manner was quite humble, as was her dress. She hardly looked the part of someone who would be honored as the greatest subject in the kingdom. What chance could she possibly have, when compared to the other three, who had accomplished so much? Even so, there was something about her the look of love in her face, the understanding in her eyes, her quiet confidence.

     The king was intrigued, to say the least, and somewhat puzzled by her presence. He asked who she was. The answer came: "You see the philanthropist, the doctor, and the judge? Well, she was their teacher!"

What does it take to create a distinguished life – a life that stands out? A life that is filled to the fullest with grace, faith and beauty? A life that has achieved its best? A good life, not necessarily a doctor, a philanthropist, a judge or a teacher. A life that is simply lived well and reaching out to others. A life where our eyes are opened to God, and God’s calling to us.   We rarely reach these goals by ourselves. We need the guidance of others; those teachers in our lives who point us in the right direction and help bring out the best in us.

To reach the best we are called to live, our life takes on many journeys. We move to be closer – or move away – from family. We move for career purposes. We travel for educational or leisure reasons. Journeys can be straight forward – or they can be dangerous, confusing and it’s easy to get lost. At some point in our lives we embark on a journey of comprehensive moral or spiritual development -- to understand what is right and wrong, what God wants for us, how to serve others with gifts we have. At its essence a life lived well encompasses the journey of the soul. It is not a journey we can make alone. Just like the experienced sherpas who guide the climbers to the summit of Mount Everest, and other high, hard-to-reach peaks, so every journey, especially a journey of faith, needs teachers and guides. Cleopas and his companion, in our reading today without realizing it, were being guided by Jesus on the most important journey of their life.

     The journey to Emmaus that we heard today is one of countless faith journeys we read of in the Bible. It is a journey of seven miles – from Jerusalem to Emmaus, just northwest of the Jewish capital. A disciple named Cleopas – never heard from before—and an unnamed companion – some presume to be his wife, are making the trek to Emmaus. They are never mentioned again – and neither is the village of Emmaus. However the journey of getting to Emmaus is a high point in the Easter narrative. It has been reflected upon and treasured over and over again by countless seekers down through the ages who want to live a good life, and learn how to call upon Jesus as their guide.

       So Cleopas and his wife begin their journey. It is the evening of the resurrection, and they are discussing the murder of Jesus, and the report from the women who went to the tomb and saw a vision of angels who proclaimed that Jesus was risen. As they are talking, Jesus comes alongside them, yet in their sorrow and confusion they do not recognize him. It is hard for us to see the Lord walking with us when we are filled with despair and agitation. Still, Jesus is there, and he encourages the conversation. What are you discussing? What things? Then how dull you are -- Was it not necessary that the messiah should suffer these things to enter into his glory?

Jesus listened to them recount the resurrection story, and they are stuck. What do they make of the women’s story? They are confused and don’t know what to make of it. At this point Jesus begins to discuss the scriptures –the stories of Moses on down through the prophets to the present. What a conversation that must have been – Jesus interpreting the scriptures over a several hour walk! Think of it – a 2-3 hour bible study, led by Jesus! Jesus does what every good teacher does. He lays out the story. He helps his disciples connect the dots. He touches their sad and dejected hearts. Jesus teaches by reframing the scriptures so they can understand the ministry and mission of Jesus, his suffering, death and resurrection in light of the bigger picture of faith, a bigger picture which they are now a part of – in which we are now a part of. Jesus inspires them so that even after this long walk and it is getting late, they strenuously implore Jesus to stay with them longer. They want more; they want to draw closer to him. They implore Jesus to come to their home for a meal.

In their home, using language that is reminiscent of the last supper and the feeding of the five thousand, Jesus becomes host of the table, break and blesses bread – then and only then are their eyes opened to their guest’s true identity. In that discovery of Jesus’ identity the Lord vanishes from their sight. Were not our hearts burning with us? They exclaimed in wonder. They could not contain with happened. They immediately got up, made that return two hour journey to Jerusalem to proclaim the good news to the disciples.

This is the essence of a true good life, is it not? To enter the story of Jesus Christ, -- to have Jesus enter our hearts and weave our life story into his- that our hearts burn within us and we got to stop what we are doing and go out of our way to share it? It is a journey that combines the knowledge of scripture with love, friendship and community building. Because inside of each of us, whether we know it or not, there is a hunger to know what the purpose is of our lives, to have our eyes opened to the divine within us and around us. We have the desire to acknowledge we are on a sacred journey every moment of our lives. We too are on the way to Emmaus. We too are called to learn the scriptures and experience the connection to Jesus Christ. And whether we recognize it or not – Jesus is there, alongside us on our Emmaus journey, teaching and helping us connect the dots of our lives to the bigger picture around us. We get to Emmaus, our hearts burning, our eyes opened. It’s the most important journey we can make- and we are called to do so – over and over again.

      One journey that has always inspired me is of the teacher, Annie Sullivan. Born of Irish immigrants, Annie became blind through illness. She was orphaned and abandoned by age 8, sent to an almshouse where within three months, her only living kin, her younger brother Jimmie, died. She faced difficulty learning. Surgery restored partial sight, and she fought hard to be educated – eventually becoming the valedictorian of her class at the Perkins School for the Blind. Her speech to her fellow students would be revealing: “Fellow-graduates: duty bids us go forth into active life. Let us go cheerfully, hopefully, and earnestly, and set ourselves to find our especial part. When we have found it, willingly and faithfully perform it…,” You have probably guessed, this Annie Sullivan is no other than the teacher/companion to Helen Keller, blind and deaf but one of the 20th centuries most renowned social and spiritual activists who became a lecturer and author. She learned at age 7-- through her teacher’s efforts to communicate through sign language. Thus were two lives were intertwined for 49 years – because Annie Sullivan was faithful to her journey, the special place God had called her to, and worked hard for months to figure out the way to help Helen learn. In turn, Helen Keller became a teacher to millions of people around the world, writing at one point,” "I know that life is given us so that we may grow in love. And I believe that God is in me as the sun is in the color and fragrance of the flower, the Light in my darkness, the Voice in my silence."

        The Emmaus journey is a reminder to us of how God leads us throughout our lives, through unknown teachers and guides, so we can learn to see life and our challenges through a spiritual lens. There is a saying, “When we are ready, the teacher appears.” So this happens every day – in the manifold ways Jesus would touch us: through the scriptures, opportunities, people, all the elements of creation, working in our hearts to bring about a shift, to help us realize the story is not done, a new chapter is starting, and God is still editing our lives – and our hearts warm over and over again, and our eyes are opened over and over again as Jesus leads us togrow in spiritual maturity

        The names of Cleopas and his wife are unfamiliar to us. Their lives, connected to those early Christ followers, makes them a part of our story. Our story is found in theirs. Let us pause and see the connection: The questions and conversation, the transformation of sadness to joy. And go forth to join others on their journey. Cleopas and his wife are also models of faith for us as we set out for Emmaus. We try to make sense of who Jesus is, to understand the Bible and it’s connection to Jesus, and how we are called to grapple with it all until Jesus opens our eyes and hearts to his love, to his mission of salvation.

Wherever we are on the road to Emmaus, even in the midst of confusion and questions or doubt, know that the Teacher is there. Walk the journey and let the Teacher speak, the Teacher who has taught so many. Let your hearts burn within, for your story is being revised by the divine author and guide, and we will be sent forth to tell the story, to make a difference – to forge a journey so our life that will stand out – because of the love and our witness to all that is made known to us in the journey and in the breaking of the bread. Amen.

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"Faith Unlocked" April 23, 2017

4/23/2017

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        Last week on Easter Sunday, we talked about the dilemma Jesus’ women disciples faced as they walked to his tomb early in the dawn. one of their famous questions was, “who will roll away the stone for us?” We talked about that stone that was placed to seal Jesus’ grave, to keep Jesus in, to keep life contained, and to keep potential and growth from happening. That’s what we talked about here-- at Union Church last week---so we want to bring everyone here up to speed-- so we are all on the same page.

Through the grace of God, the stone that covered the grave of Jesus was rolled away. It was a miracle. Life could not be held down. Resurrection power cannot be stopped. Life is victorious. So the Easter season reminds us and teaches us over and over again that when we are asked who will roll away the stone? We respond: with God’s grace: we will. With God’s grace we will.
Who will roll away the stone? With God’s grace, we will - is a mediation that will weave in and out the Easter season. The work of Easter is to remove the obstacles and the barriers that get in the way of God’s restorative love; so that love, reconciliation, peace and justice are realized in our lives, in our church communities and out there on our streets.

It is curious how last week it was Jesus who was in the tomb, sealed away. The women find the stone rolled away, “a young man” an angel perhaps, speaks to them about Jesus having risen and gone ahead of them to Galilee. This week we find the disciples sealed behind locked doors and it is Jesus who effortlessly comes to them. Although Jesus speaks the common greeting: “peace be with you,” it is laden with a message of new life and hope to a community paralyzed with fear.

Look what Jesus does. Following the prophetic tradition, he breathes on the disciples. Reminiscent of the vision prophet Ezekiel breathed   on the dry bones to bring life back into them (chapter 37). Perhaps even remembering the words of Job, who said, the breath of the Almighty gives me life (Job33:4). Perhaps Jesus even harkens back to the earliest verses of Genesis where we are told that God breathed into our nostrils the breath of life (2:7) and thus we became a living creature. Jesus sized up the situation – saw a bunch of people who were spiritually beaten up.
They were traumatized and they needed help. There was no way they were going to be able to roll away the stone of this grief, this shame, this doubt, this fear out of their heart. They needed Jesus. Jesus doesn’t waste any time here. Before they have a chance to say anything, give any excuse, offer any apology, he gives them marching orders: “As the Father has sent me so I send you.” and then, out of Jesus’ very mouth comes Holy Spirit, the Life Giver. Earlier in John, we are told that God so loved the world that God sent Jesus, not to condemn the world, but in order to save it. So it is with us.   Although Jesus knows these disciples are scarred, scared, hurting, half-dead, yet he knows their potential – he knows what they are capable of – so Jesus goes about the work of what we call “eastering” –or resurrecting—bringing back to life.

          Jesus, by his very presence, rolls away the stone, unlocks the door. He sends them out right back out. Jesus never gives the five year plan, doesn’t hand out certificates, degrees or fine-tuned rhetoric: he just gives of himself. His breath. His scarred hands to a doubting man. The only teaching he reminds them is about is forgiveness. It’s a funny phrase that we find here: If you forgive the sins of any they are forgiven, If you retain the sins of any they are retained. What do we make of this? Jesus certainly isn’t putting his disciples in the role of God. Some might argue Jesus was transferring rabbinic authority of binding/and loosening of ritual life to them. Perhaps.   One thing we can appreciate: out of all the activities that makes for a free spirit, a new creation it is forgiveness. Jesus’ first words from the cross to the Father were, Forgive them, they know not what they do. So, here, Jesus is teaching his disciples in a very matter of fact way, warning them actually, about the power of forgiving. If we forgive we are freed, if we do not forgive, we are not free.

        Let us think on this a minute. We Christians proclaim Jesus went to the cross for our sins, to free us, to pay our debt, to use traditional language. On the cross, Jesus modeled forgiveness. He forgave the soldiers who spat upon him. The soldiers who whipped him repeatedly, and mocked him. Jesus forgave the religious hierarchy, in their hypocrisy, their lies how they orchestrated his kangaroo trial that resulted in his death. He forgave Pilate, forgave King Herod. He forgave Judas for betraying him. Forgave Peter for denying him. Forgave all the disciples who fell asleep on him, ran away and hid. He forgave the crowd for shouting out to crucify him. He forgave the thief who taunted him. He forgave the whole darn lot – because that’s what love does. Love rolls away the stones. IT unlocks. It brings peace and life.

        You and I are not Jesus, so perhaps forgiveness doesn’t come so easily, and we have to help each other practice it on a daily basis.

I discovered, out of all the people I had to learn to forgive, I had to forgive those fundamentalists for taking away a piece of my life that was joyful and affirming. I had to forgive them for what they took away from me. So I forgive them because today, because I understand they were afraid. Just like those disciples were afraid. When we’re afraid, we have to control. Today, I don’t want us to be afraid like that. Today I want us to be proud to be in a church that is not living in fear that is moving forward, taking a stand to roll away stones. Today no more living in fear behind locked doors. No matter what people say we have to give up, sticking with marriage equality is breathing life.

So this means we get to be called all sorts of names because we are rolling away the stones to allow same gendered people to marry. We are not following the gospel of Jesus Christ. The devil has got a hold of our church. We have lost our way.

That’s fear talking. Fear’s going to be talking a lot.   Our’s is a mission of love. As long as we follow in the footsteps of Jesus we’ll be just fine.   Like Jesus we just have to show up wherever there are people who are scared, and hurting and being bullied. Like Jesus we can show them our scars and say, we survived, you can too. We can show them how we got peace. How we found forgiveness.

Who will move the stone?
Who will move the stone?
With God’s grace, we will.
With God’s grace, we will.
Amen.

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"Dawn" Easter Sunday, April 16, 2017

4/16/2017

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It was dark outside, early dawn in fact, when they got up, that group of women which included Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and other women, women Jesus healed, and women from whom had exorcised demons. Women Jesus loved and treated with respect.   In turn these women loved Jesus and stayed faithful to him to the end. As Jesus traveled to Calvary, carrying his cross, the women accompanied him. They stood watch as Jesus suffered and died, never turning away, even though others did.

They didn’t speak, as they didn’t speak in those early hours, when the pall of darkness is still in the air, evaporating very quietly, slowly, as signs of life awakens, through the birds, a breeze, perhaps a mist. It was at early dawn on that third day, the first opportunity they had, that the women prepared the spices to take to Jesus’ tomb and anoint his dead body.

At dawn they found the stone rolled away from the tomb. At dawn they went in the burial cave and didn’t find the body. They were perplexed, the same word used for Mary, the Mother of Jesus, when she was perplexed and didn’t understand the Angel Gabriel’s greeting, bringing her news of the conception of a new, Holy life.   So the women are perplexed as these signs of new, resurrected life that they too don’t yet understand.

At dawn the women encounter two men in dazzling clothes, we presume them angels like they are recorded in the Gospel of John. These two men/angels are the dawn speakers, for they proclaim “Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.” They remind the women of Jesus’ prophetic words in Galilee that he would suffer and die, but rise again. At dawn, the women do indeed remember, and run to tell the rest.   The others, roused from their sleep so early, believe this an idle tale, but Peter ran to the tomb and was amazed to see the linen cloths but no body there. All at dawn.

        Dawn is a special time of day. Not night anymore, not quite day, it is an in between time, an in-between place. Darkness is giving way to light, but the mix of the two is there. The world for the most part is still quiet, only a few are awake. Some of us find getting up extra early at dawn to be rewarding. It is a perfect time to get a head start, to meditate, exercise, pray, attend to a special project without the disruptions of daytime busyness, while the quiet of the night lingers.

Jesus chose to rise at early dawn.   Not in the dark of night. Not in the light of day. But at rosy-fingered dawn, “gold throned dawn, the “bright throned dawn,” as the Odyssey puts it.

In the scriptures dawn was a time of spiritual significance, commitment and renewal.   The prophet Zephaniah affirms that “morning by morning God dispenses his justice, and every new day he does not fail” (3:5). The new dawn requires that every day people are to be judged fairly, and God’s called leaders must deliver those who had been robbed or oppressed in any faction.If you recall, Jacob in the book of Genesis, on his first night he was exiled from home, has a vivid dream of heaven and he rose early and worshiped the Lord before he continued his journey (Gen 28:18-19).   Job made it a regular practice to worship God early in the morning (Job 1:5). Such also probably was Joshua’s custom (Josh. 3:1; 6:12; 7:14, 16; 8:10).

Indeed, when crucial decisions were to be made or important activities needed to be accomplished, it is often reported that godly people in times of trouble rose early to pray and be with God. When Abraham was tested to sacrifice Isaac. When God called Moses called to ratify the covenant. When God called Gideon to be a judge over Israel. When Samuel’s parents, Elkaniah and Hannah prayed for a longed for child. The prophet Jeremiah and King Hezekiah of Judah rose early to address their problems and worries with God (Gen. 22:3; Exod. 24:4; Judges 6:35; 2 Chron. 29:20, Jeremiah 7:13, 1 Sam 1:19).   The psalms repeatedly talk about dawn as a time of prayer and encounter with God, as Psalm 5 reminds us: “In the morning O Lord, you hear my voice, in the morning I lay my requests before you and wait in expectation.” (Pss. 5:3; 88:13, Pss. 59:16; 90:2, Ps. 49, Ps. 143:8 Ps. 92:1-2).   It is not surprising then that the gospels remind us that Jesus got up in the morning, while it was still dark, and went to a solitary place to pray (Mark 1:35).

So this faithful band of sisters went to Jesus’ grave out of love and loyalty but in a tradition of their ancestors. To somehow find strength. To find God’s justice.   To find the presence of the Holy One. To find a way to face the troubles of the day with God’s help.   In the midst of darkness, to find hope.

Dawn symbolizes not only darkness giving way to light, but the old making way for the new, fresh beginnings.   For believers, dawn symbolized an eager desire to meet the Lord, serve God, and live in accordance to God’s will. It is not surprising then that even the word, Easter, is derived from the proto-Indo-European root, for the word Dawn. Today we celebration dawn. The divine dawning of God’s light in the resurrection of Christ Jesus.

We need the dawn in our lives. Although called to be an Easter people, many of us live in darkness or a night of some sort or another. Some of us live with a sense of alienation from God or from loved ones. Perhaps there is a darkness of an illness, financial stressors, conflict of some sort. For some of us, This Easter Sunday has shadows of Good Friday that cling to our hearts.   We wonder, where is the dawn? Where is the dawn in a world filled with conflict, suffering and war? Yet Easter is strong enough to handle all the pain, all the doubt, all the hurt in our hearts.   As dawn surely follows the night, Easter rises from the ashes of pain and sorrow.

Easter is our reminder that Jesus rises in our darkness, shows us life in the scarred places and leads us to new possibilities.   Life, new life, new possibilities. The old life is gone…yes…Easter does not deny that. Easter does not deny death or the tomb. However Easter proclaims that a new life, unknown is on the horizon and beckons us forward…where Jesus is – in resurrection glory.

Easter Dawn reminds us of this prayer:

God make me brave for life: oh braver than this.
Let me straighten after pain, as a tree straightens after the rain
Shining and lovely again.
God make me brave for life; much braver than this.
As the blown grass lifts, let me rise from sorrow with quiet eyes
Knowing Thy way is wise.
God make me brave, life brings such blinding things.
Help me to keep my sight;
Help me to see aright
That out of dark come light.

Like those women who came to the tomb in the early dawn, let us not be afraid. It is Easter. We are indeed braver than this.   We will straighten. We will rise.   We will see aright.   Because we see the dawn. At some place on this good earth, it is dawn. It is always dawning.

If we follow the example of the faithful and sages we will see: dawn always approaches. A stone rolled away. An empty tomb. Linens by themselves. The angels’ message: He is risen! It is Easter, and no matter where our lives are, dawn will find us. Remember Jesus’ words. His promise.   Because Jesus is risen. We will rise too.

He is risen indeed.   And so will we.
Amen.

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Palm/Passion Sunday: April 9, 2017

4/9/2017

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        Today we enter Holy Week, the most significant time in the Christian calendar – the days we follow Jesus to the cross, to the tomb and then to the empty grave next Sunday, on Easter. I am old enough to remember stores being closed, a somber spirit, observances like fasting, worship and prayer being highlighted all week, and having a week of religious viewing with shows “Ben Hur,” “The Greatest Story Ever Told,” and “King of Kings” shown on commercial television.

        Those days are gone. How are we to mark the days of Holy Week? While secular life has encroached on religious sensibility, there is still a hunger to know who this Jesus was. There are tens of thousands of book and blogs out there debating who’s the real Jesus. It is estimated that there are over 1000 films, documentaries and shows made on the life of Jesus. From the farcical “Life of Brian,” to “Jesus Christ: Vampire Hunter,” “Jesus Christ, Super Star,” to the over-the-top blood and gore “Passion of the Christ” by Mel Gibson – each one has an aspect of the story to tell, through the lens of movie producer. The most recent “Son of God” is most known for a controversy of a portrayal of the devil that seems to resemble former President Obama.

Each movie in its own way, even as John Stainer and other musicians put to music, try to tell us Jesus’ story. Who was he? A good man? A prophet? A charlatan? The messiah?

The story line of Satan tempting Jesus with visions of hate and holocaust may not be biblical, but it is certainly plausible.   Isn’t that one of the biggest questions we entertain as we enter holy week? What did all this suffering accomplish? What difference has it made? Who is Jesus?

Some people reject Jesus and Christianity’s claims because of the following failures.

The messiah, in Jewish teaching is supposed to: build the Third Temple (Ezekiel 27:26-28). The messiah is supposed to gather all the Jews back to the Land of Israel (Is. 43:5-6). The messiah is supposed to usher in an era of world peace, end all hatred oppression, suffering and disease (Isaiah 2:4). The messiah is supposed to spread universal knowledge of the God of Israel, united the entire human race as one. (Zech. 14:9). Some say that for all that Jesus has done, he still falls short. Holy Week is a farce.
Perhaps we should consider this: as we enter into the pain of Holy Week, juxtaposed to the horrors of history and the inhumanity of humankind, we see another kind of messiah emerge. An understanding of Messiah that Jesus was indeed faithful to. An image that we are asked to consider and embrace.

Jesus, throughout his life eschews the path of a political messiah. In his first temptation in the wilderness, Jesus refuses to worship the devil in exchange for power over the earth.   Jesus proclaims to Pilate that his kingdom is not of this earth – and that also speaks that the peace he offers us is not of this world. The teachings of Jesus are clear: the kingdom of heaven is a kingdom of peace, justice service, and striving for the elimination of oppression suffering and disease. Jesus does give the mandate of spreading the good news to all the four corners of the earth. However, Jesus does not force his vision on humankind, even in his death and resurrection. We are free to choose to accept Him or not to accept him. Every day we are free to choose whether we will take the path of love. We are given a choice.

If anything, the belief that God will wave a magic wand and make human life different is contrary to how God acts in the world. In Jesus’ interactions with people, people have a choice on how to act. Will they act with love? Or out of selfish regard? Remember the rich man who did everything and wanted to know the way to eternal life? Jesus looked on him with love and said, go sell what you have and give to the poor.” The rich man walked away dejectedly. Jesus didn’t force him to give up his money; he didn’t call him back and tell him to do something different. Jesus left him with choice. In the parable of the prodigal son, the elder son refuses to join the feast when his younger brother returns.

The Father doesn’t force his older son, doesn’t bribe him. It’s his choice. If we look through the gospels, we seem many occasions where Jesus could have smoothed things over or compromised. But he didn’t. Jesus remembered true to who he was. He lived the divine law of life: Love requires that we have free will. Love that is not freely chosen is not love. God loves us too much to take free will away from our lives, even if it means at times we sin, make mistakes or suffer. Free will to choose is that important.
Dante in The Divine Comedy wrote: “ The greatest gift which God in his bounty bestowed in creating humans, and the most conformed to his own goodness, and that which he prizes the most, was the freedom of the will.”

As we travel with Jesus this Holy Week from the Last Supper to the Garden of Gethsemane to his Passion and death on the cross, we are reminded, every step of the way that although his dearest friends and disciples, his enemies and oppressors chose evil, fear and apathy --Jesus gives us an example of a steadfast free will that stays the course through all the pain he faced. We see this in his refusal to walk away. We see this in his refusal to abandon the principles of the Kingdom. We see this in his refusal to lash back at those who tortured him, who hated him, who disposed of him in the most egregious manner possible.

        Holy week reminds us of the price of love and free will. The power of free will, laid at the disposal of love, does more than we can possibly imagine. We can’t conceive a world without the impact of Jesus, the Christ, whose will was at the disposal of love. While many have done horrors in his name, there are many who have done heroics, many unknown to us – as love often chooses – that have changed lives, even our world.

Author Jim Butcher reminds us: “God isn't about making good things happen to you, or bad things happen to you. He's all about you making choices--exercising the gift of free will. God wants you to have good things and a good life, but He won't gift wrap them for you. You have to choose the actions that lead you to that life.”

        So that wonderful fantasy that God will one day, feed all the poor, send all the bad people to prison, heal all our wounds, make us all live in harmony and bliss just with a wink of an eye just isn’t true. But God does give us a heart, a will, a mind, a conscience to act in concert with the kingdom of God. That’s what Jesus shows us.

        We have been given, not the messiah we want, but the messiah we need. The messiah who seeks to awaken in us the power of love, and to free our will from the tyranny of selfishness. This Holy Week, may we freely enter the story of Jesus, who emptied himself and took on the form of a slave to show us how true love, true freedom acts. May we act in concert with him and discover that once captive to holy love – we are truly free. Amen.

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"When I Open Your Graves" April 2, 2017

4/2/2017

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40 years ago, on a bright Palm Sunday morning, I witnessed my brother die from a combination of alcohol and sleeping pills. He didn’t go off to die alone but came over to the house, where he collapsed and never regained consciousness. In retrospect he probably didn’t want to die – he just didn’t know how to live. And he didn’t know how to get help. It was my first true encounter with death – not death buffered by a funeral home, but in-your-face death – the electric presence of death, a black hole in the room, sucking out physical life, leaving gray-blue skin.

        This presence is at the vortex where life and death overlap. It is what John calls the great disturber. This is the moving Spirit when Jesus wept at the death of his friend Lazarus. Ezekiel describes this presence as the Breath of God, hovering over the slain – surely as this same spirit swept over the deep in the act of Creation. It is a presence felt by both the living and the dead. By the dead as they embrace eternal life. By the living who have had their bones crushed by the sufferings of life; who cry out to be revived and are called out of their tombs and set free. Our texts today invite us to sit with this presence, especially as it manifests in death.

        The topic of death, even for people who come to church, who believe in God and struggle to follow Jesus, is difficult to engage even as we trust in divine mercy and reject oblivion. Who would go around talking about death? Who wants to be with people who talk about death?

So we push death away. We have become successful: we live in an era that has seen the average life expectancy jump from 46 years to almost 79 years in just over one century. In our battle against death we have discovered vaccinations, procedures, surgeries and treatments, diets that have prolonged life considerably.

        Yet are we prepared to deal with death? Are you? Am I? For all we have accomplished, we are, in many ways, less able to engage the universal reality of dying. In my seminary class, I was one of the few individuals who had extensive experience with death in our immediate families; most of my friends had not even lost a grandparent yet. Losing a pet can be a powerful but it is not preparation for the shattering loss of a sibling, the emotional insecurity of losing a parent or the dread loss of a child.

        Consider the ICU and picture death there. How do we face the terror of dying when we lose our personal autonomy; intubated and ventilated, sedated institutionalized, often alone. On average, anywhere from 30- 50 percent of a patient’s lifetime health care costs are spent in the last six months of life. We spend a lot of money keeping dying people alive right to the bitter end.

        So, as we approach our scriptures today, let us ask ourselves, does the experience of that spirit and presence of Death awaken in us the desire to imbue our lives with clarity, energy and purpose? God is not content for us to exist as a pile of bones. God’s breathe connects bone to bone, sinews with sinews, skin and flesh. And our bones respond to the call of God.

        This may sound like a romantic view of death. Nothing is further from the truth. Dealing with death is hard and painful. Who ever recovers from the wounds that death deals to us? Most of us bury our mourning, grief and anger in the tombs in our hearts, blocked by stones of fear and pain. The reality is that people do die ugly, unjust premature deaths. People die alone and unloved. People die unreconciled to their family or neighbor with bitterness and fear. Death wounds us in ways that seem humanly impossible to recover – especially if death comes to a child, strikes in the moment of blindness of suicide, when it comes suddenly, comes often or arrives viciously through war or violence or murder.

We remember, dealing with life can be hard and painful. People live in ugly, unjust ways. People live alone and unloved. People live with bitterness, anger and resentments, consumed by fear. Life wounds us in ways that are hard to recover from. We entomb life and joy. Neither life nor death are for the weak of heart. We must come to terms with life as we must come to terms with death.

        We see an intimate portrait of death in our scriptures today. These lessons demand we contemplate the broad face of death. In the gospel of John, we view a death that comes to a small village, a single family. Death that is fresh, raw, stinking and has a name, Lazareth. There is weeping and wailing. There are all those futile questions and comments: “Lord if you had only been here…”   Why did you delay, Jesus?” If only I had done this… If only I had encouraged her more   If only I had called….why didn’t I see the signs? Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying? Where were you when I needed you God? Why didn’t you come sooner?
Why
Why
Why?

        The horror of communal death illustrated by Ezekiel in his vision of the valley of dry bones. Bones, bones, for as far as you can see. Death that is out in the open. Uncontained. Reminding us of the horrifying film clips of the Holocaust with bulldozers pushing piles of corpses in communal graves – of the terrifying images of the killing fields of Cambodia.   The elimination of first nation peoples…the Cultural Revolution, the Ottoman Empire, Rwanda, Uganda, Darfur, the gulag, the famines…there are valleys of dry bones everywhere on this earth.

        Death comes to a people, community, nation, and in this scripture Ezekiel points to the destruction of the people of Israel.   In his vision of rebuke and warning, death has been a way of life for so long it no longer stinks. Flesh is gone. Sinew is gone. The Spirit is gone. There are no mourners, instead of weeping and wailing there is utter stillness and silence. Just death, alone.

        Our Bible lessons don’t explain death, even as we, as do thoughtful people, seek answers in the face of such devastation. But our texts do invite us in, to sit in the valley or by the tomb. By keeping faithful company with death, we are promised by God that we come to know the Lord.

        So we sit today at the tomb and the valley of death. The Spirit of this presence speaks to us. We learn about sorrow, unfinished business and broken dreams. We come to see more clearly the source of our suffering, the true “dis-“ ease. It is not death breaking our hearts. It is the lack of love and loss of love connection. Our hearts are broken by chronic isolation; love loss in our guilt, shame and despair. Our hearts break and mend for the love expressed in care for others, love for God and God’s ways of right living.

        Death is not the problem. Life is not the problem. The problem is the conditions we place on love.

Jesus wept after he showed up in Bethany. When Jesus first received word that his friend Lazarus was ill, he had just had a hostile encounter with some religious leaders. They were ready to stone and kill him. Jesus had to flee across the Jordon River to safety. By responding to the call of Mary and Martha, Jesus placed himself at great peril. He returned to the territory where his enemies were planning to do away with him. As Jesus stood before the grave of Lazarus, calling him back to life, Jesus was signing his own death warrant. At the conclusion to Chapter 11, we read that the chief priests and Pharisees called a council to terminate Jesus once and for all.   Jesus would soon be exchanging places with Lazarus in the tomb.

        Everyone misunderstood Jesus. Criticized him. Blamed God.   Everyone thought Jesus’ tears were proof of his love. But his Presence was proof -- proof of a love the shows up, despite peril; a merciful love that sacrifices; a love that willingly gave its life so that another might live. What is it that Jesus says later in his great discourse before his death? “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends.” John 15:13.

        As holy week draws near, our texts prepare us for this mystery of love and death, suffering and sacrifice, mercy and resurrection. The Love that breathes on the bones and restores life. It is Love that opens graves. Love is present, unfelt, unsummoned, even when we are at our lowest. Love, through Death asks us: how do we really experience God? Is Love just a quaint title we give God that has a nice ring to it? Only death can make us sit and realize this is not an intellectual exercise. Death is not an abstract experience. And neither is God. Unless we have been restored to life while alive that we can have no idea what Jesus means when he calls himself the Resurrection and the life.

        “Anything dead coming back to life hurts.” I’ll say that again “anything dead coming back to life hurts.” That’s how Toni Morrison puts it in her novel, “Beloved.” It hurts to have new life forced back in your body. It hurts when bone is rejoined back to bone, and the flesh is grafted back. It hurts to emerge from the dark tomb into the brightness of day. It hurts to learn to love without condition, to give of ourselves, to be vulnerable and to risk giving our lives to another or for a cause or righteousness.   What does it matter to gain length of years if there is diminished capacity and quality to love – death would ask us.

“Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live." Let me say that again. “Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live." Those words from author Norman Cousins remind us of all the different stripes of death in our lives. All those tiny deaths, year by year entombed away, that take away our ability to live abundantly as Jesus promised us. I have learned that the scars of death do not go away. At times pain resurfaces. But through God’s Spirit-breathed Love, these wounds become the place where light enters, love flows… .and connects to the wounds in others – bringing comfort, a presence, strength – even hope.. Our wounds become our connecting places –we discover -we are not alone. Through life and death we are connected – bone to bone.

Life and death are not the problem. It is whether we chose to love in life and death that makes all the difference. So this week prepare. Sit in the valley. Sit by the tomb. Jesus has come to awaken us. To life – to death --- to God’s glory – made manifest as we rise to the resurrection in death, but also in life. Amen.

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