Ascension Day: The Same Story Five Ways

Ascension Day: The Same Story Five Ways

Luke 24:44-53

By: The Rev. Steve Pankey

On three different occasions before his death, Jesus taught his disciples about what was to come. He didn’t leave much up for debate or interpretation either. Just after Peter’s confession of Jesus as the Messiah, Jesus flat out told the group that “the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, chief priest, and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.”[1] Despite this very clear teaching, the disciples never seem to quite get it. Twice more, Jesus has to remind them that the future they imagine – power, privilege, prestige – is not what God has in mind for the great reversal and the coming of the Kingdom of Heaven.

Despite three clearly articulated opportunities for the disciples to hear and understand what was to come, they each seem totally caught off guard when Jesus is rejected by the powers-that-be, undergoes great suffering on the cross, and is killed. In fact, they seem so clueless, that when it all goes down, their only reaction is to run and hide. For three days, they hide in fear. Once the Festival is over, they begin to plan their next steps. Two of them, one named Cleopas and the other unnamed disciple decide to cut bait and head home. At some point on the seven-mile journey back to Emmaus, the resurrected Jesus came alongside the two dejected disciples. He listened as they talked about all that had happened, and how they had hoped that this Jesus might have been the Messiah, but those hopes were dashed when he was rejected, crucified, and died.

Here again, Jesus takes the opportunity to teach them about God’s plan for salvation.  Beginning with Moses, Jesus used all the prophets and the psalms to, for a fourth time, show them how his rejection, suffering, death, AND RESURRECTION, were all necessary components of the restoration of the world. For the fourth time, Jesus showed them how God’s ways are not our ways and how love, grace, and mercy – not power and might – were the way to redemption. Still, despite a whole day walking alongside the yet unrecognizable Jesus, Cleopas and his companion didn’t realize that it was Jesus until they stopped for dinner and he broke the bread.

Off they went, sprinting back to Jerusalem to share the Good News that Jesus Christ was, in fact, alive! Back in that upper room, the door locked behind them out of fear, they told of their encounter with the risen Christ when he appeared before the crowd. With a mix of terror, confusion, and belief, they listened as Jesus, now for the fifth time, recounted what he had told them all along, “that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem.”

In Luke’s Gospel, it is with this that the fifth teaching on the mission of Jesus; that his ministry on earth, finally comes to an end. After five distinct opportunities to hear that his life, death, and resurrection were all a part of the larger plan of salvation, it will be up to the disciples to figure out what that means going forward. They won’t be alone, however, for God has promised to send help. In Luke, it is called “the power from on high.” In the second ascension narrative from Acts, it is called the Holy Spirit. In John, it is the Advocate. No matter the name, the promise is that someone else will come in the place of Jesus to lead the disciples in truth, to guide them as witnesses of the Gospel, to encourage them in their proclamation, to help them interpret the Good News that they were unable to hear and comprehend; that God’s plan of redemption came to life through the cross and grave.

With this final teaching complete, Jesus led the disciples out of the city and to the mountain village of Bethany where he offered one final blessing before being carried up into heaven. Exegetically, things get a bit dicey here. We believe Luke and Acts to have been written by the same author, and the fact that the details of the ascension are a bit different between the two texts can feel a bit problematic. In Luke, the ascension seems to happen on Easter Day. In Acts, it is said to be forty days after the resurrection. In Luke, they run back to the city with great joy. In Acts, the disciples are left stupefied by the sight of Jesus’ ascension and two men robed in white have to motivate the slack-jawed crowd to return to Jerusalem. In Luke, they run to the Temple to praise God. In Acts, they gather in the upper room and await the Holy Spirit. Both lessons are appointed for Ascension Day, so what is the preacher to do? Do we ignore the differences? Do we admit them and attempt to explain them away? Do we Jesus Seminar them out of existence?

I’m one who believes that the variety of the Biblical story offers richness and depth. After all, Jesus had to teach the disciples about his death and resurrection at least five different times.  What is constant in the ascension stories is a) that Jesus had to return to the Father, b) that the disciples would not be left alone, and c) that the Spirit’s task was to turn disciples into apostles and evangelists. The good news of the ascension, whether it happened on day one or day forty is that the Gospel could now be spread from Jerusalem to all of Judea, Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.  As inheritors of the promised gift of the Holy Spirit, Ascension Day is our chance to give thanks for fullness of God’s plan for salvation – from the Annunciation to the Ascension – as we await the Spirit’s arrival with power and might in just ten short days.

[1] Luke 9:22

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The Rev. Steve Pankey

The Rev. Steve Pankey is the Rector of Christ Episcopal Church in Bowling Green, Kentucky.  Steve holds an MDiv from Virginia Theological Seminary (’07) and a DMin from the School of Theology at the University of the South (’17), but the degree he seems to use most often these days is the BS in Business Administration he earned at Millersville University (’02). As a disciple, a husband to Cassie, a father to Eliza and Lainey, and now a Rector, Steve struggles to keep it all in the right order, and is constantly thankful for forgiveness and grace. You can read more from him at his blog, draughtingtheology.wordpress.com.

 

 

 

Easter 6(C): Holy Mischief

Easter 6(C): Holy Mischief

John 5:1-18

By: Ryan Young

In this Scripture, we see two connected instances of Jesus upsetting the established order in order to witness to the Kingdom.

In the first, Jesus speaks to a man who has been ill for thirty-eight years. We are told that he has no support structure, no advocates, and every time he tries to enter the healing waters of Bethsaida, someone (presumably less in need of healing from the narrative clues) jumps in front of him to take the healing for themselves. I imagine that Jesus’ question, “Do you want to get well?” fell heavy on his ears. The system is stacked against him. He has been left behind by his community. So it is little surprise that his response is defensive and frustrated. Of course he wants to get well, but how is that possible for someone like him in this system?

And so, Jesus heals him. He simply tells the man to pick up his mat and walk, and he does so without precondition (though there is an expectation of holiness after he has been healed in v. 14). This witnesses both to the validity of the healed man’s frustrations and to the reality of the “preferential option for the poor” –that Jesus is first and foremost on the side of the poor and powerless members of society.

The second instance is the reaction of the Jewish leaders to this healing. In ministering to this man, Jesus broke the prohibition against work on the Sabbath. This is not a small issue. This is one of the ten commandments handed to Moses at Sinai. The Jewish leaders understand this to be foundational to the covenantal relationship between God and Israel. For them, not only is Jesus acting unrighteously by healing on the Sabbath, he is also causing the healed man to act unrighteously by instructing him to carry his mat on the Sabbath. Exodus 20:8-11 notes that the Sabbath is a commemoration of God resting from work, and so the people of God ought also to rest from work on the seventh day. Jesus attempts to reframe their understanding of the fourth (or third depending on your numbering system) commandment—God is in fact always continuing the work of redeeming creation, and so the people of God should likewise always be working with God toward that aim, even on the Sabbath.

This is too much for the Jewish leaders. Jesus was attempting to overturn a widely-held, longstanding traditional understanding of Law. Jesus was blaspheming by taking onto himself authority that belonged to God alone. The irony of this viewpoint should not be lost on us since we readers understand that Jesus was in fact God incarnate and was using authority that was rightfully his to overturn traditional understandings of how God relates to humanity to bring about a new, freer expression.

Over the past few months, I have been teaching a class on church history for members of my congregation. What has struck me is how the Church is always undergoing reformation. How the church is always dealing with this same conflict between Jesus and the Jewish leaders—the tension between the desire for an established way of holiness and the freedom of the Spirit which is always calling the Church beyond its status quo into deeper understandings of God and fresher expressions of faith. I saw this in Basil the Great and his sister Macrina as they gathered hermetical ascetics who were greatly concerned with personal holiness and ordered their lives in monastic communities, channeling their zeal to meaningful work for the poor. I saw it in Martin Luther, who said of his younger days struggling to find grace in monastic requirements of holiness that, “I lost touch with Christ the Savior and Comforter, and made of him the jailer and hangman of my poor soul.” I saw it this year in my beloved United Methodist Church as we held a general conference where, as graciously as I can put it, the tension between concerns for traditional holiness and a moving with the Spirit toward a fresh, more inclusive understanding of faith were on full display.

As a soon-to-be-Provisional Deacon in the UMC, my calling is to Word, Service, Compassion, and Justice, but there is a phrase that has been floating around that might better encapsulate both my work: holy mischief. This is what I see Jesus calling me towards in this Scripture. To engage in holy mischief is to follow Jesus’ lead to challenge and overturn social structures that are stacked against the vulnerable. To minister to people feeling left behind and invite them to be empowered by Christ—to get up and walk with me on the march to justice. To engage in holy mischief is to name those actions of the church which make it harder for the Spirit to reframe our understandings and call us into deeper and fresher expressions of faith. It is to proclaim the Kingdom that we are for, and not just the evils that we are against.

God is still working. Join us in some holy mischief.

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Ryan Young

Ryan Young currently serves as the Director of Adult Discipleship and Missions at Northbrook United Methodist Church in Roswell, Georgia. He is a graduate of Clemson University and Emory University’s Candler School of Theology. He is looking forward to being commissioned as a Provisional Deacon in the United Methodist Church in June. When he is not engaging in holy mischief, he can be found sampling craft beers with friends at local breweries, reading, or singing Baby Shark with his wife Rachael to the delighted squeals of their toddler Iris.

 

Easter 5(C): All You Really Need

Easter 5(C): All You Really Need

By:  The Rev. Joe T. Mitchell

John 13:31-35

In the mid-1990s John Travolta saw a career resurgence with the now-classic Pulp Fiction. But around the same time he starred in another movie that garnered him a lot of attention, though it has gone mostly unnoticed in recent years. In the film Michael, Travolta portrays an angel who has come to earth for….reasons. In one of the movie’s best scenes he is sitting in the backseat of a car while a bewildered Oliver Platt and Andie McDowell ride shotgun. Leaning back, Michael says “I remember what John and Paul said.” Oliver Platt pops up and asks, “The Apostles?!” Michael retorts, “No! The Beatles! All you need is love.”

While my knowledge of Beatles songs is rather limited—apologies to my Beatles-loving wife (who I once tried to impress by telling her my favorite Beatles album is The White Album, even though I didn’t know a single song in it—I DO know that song!) It is a song that is filled with hope that really, honestly, seriously, the only thing we actually need in this world is love. If we had love, then so many of the problems that we know would cease. If we had love, we would know a world of peace and harmony the likes of which are hitherto undreamt of! It is such a nice dream.

For most of us in parish settings it is just that, a dream. Each week we pour so much into our sermons and are met with a lukewarm reception, we run ourselves ragged setting the parish hall up for a Wednesday program to which a smaller-than-expected crowd shows up, and just as we’re hitting our stride planning an upcoming liturgy we get that surprise visit from the parishioner who is concerned about the very last thing that you would expect. Let’s face it, ours is an environment that breeds disappointment and frustration. Someone is always upset, and even the best of our intentions go unappreciated. It’s easy for us to wonder how we are to respond when the expectations are so high.

As I read the lection for this week from the Fourth Gospel I thought about the disciples gathered at that meal with Jesus. I imagine their expectations were through the roof. This is it, y’all! Something big is about to happen. He’s going to unpack all of the mysteries of the universe right here and now. Maybe he’ll tell us his plan for overthrowing the tyranny of empire and ushering in a new era on this earth. OK, Jesus! Lay it on us!

“Love one another.” That’s all he says. “Just love one another, as I have loved you.” It can’t really be that simple, right? Doesn’t Jesus understand how complex this whole thing is? There has to be more to it than just “love one another.” Well, maybe there isn’t. Maybe that really is all that they (we) need.

What does it mean to love “as I have loved you?” I suspect that means things like forgiving when others deserve judgment, or feeding those who are hungry, or showing God’s radical welcome to all who meet us. Jesus did all of those things, but something else he did was hold all of the little things that his flock did that would otherwise cause most leaders to pull out their hair. When James and John selfishly want to sit at his sides in glory (Mark 10), when the disciples tried to keep some curious kids from interacting with Jesus (Matthew 19), or when they all complain that “this teaching his hard” (John 6, among MANY others), are all moments to which we congregational leaders can relate. We’ve all been there—as the line from one of my favorite tv series, Battlestar Galactica, is repeated, “All this has happened before, and it will happen again!” Somehow, though, Jesus handles it all. He holds their concerns, and even when some of them–*cough Judas and Peter cough*–literally turn their backs on him, he stills shows love and mercy. Because that is the mark of Christ, the sign by which everyone will know Christ and those who follow Christ. It is love.

So perhaps our task this Eastertide is to remind our congregations, and ourselves, that love is what will show the world that we are disciples. Arguing over sermon content, or fretting about the number of people that showed up, or getting defensive with the concerned person won’t show the world that we disciples. Only love will. Perhaps we can learn from Jesus and hold all of those concerns, and in doing so perhaps we can model for our folks a better way, inviting them to also see that the fretting, finger-pointing, and frustrations are not the signs of discipleship. As one of my mother’s favorite spirituals reminds us, “They will know we are Christians by our love, by our love!” They won’t know by our arguing!

In the end, maybe it really is that simple. Maybe we have just complicated it so much that we need to hear it spoken plainly once more from Jesus himself. Perhaps he really was opening up the mysteries of the universe. Perhaps the Beatles were right. All you really need is love!

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The Rev. Joe T. Mitchell

The Rev. Joe T. Mitchell is Rector at The Episcopal Church of the Good Shepherd in Asheboro, North Carolina, where he lives and serves with his wife Kristen Leigh and dog/chaplain Casey. He is your typical Transformer-collecting, baseball-playing, theatre-loving, moonshine-drinking priest from the coalfields of Virginia. He runs the blog Father Prime (www.fatherprime.blogspot.com), where he wishes and works for a world transformed.

 

 

Easter 4(C): Just Tell Us Already!

Easter 4(C): Just Tell Us Already!

John 10:22-30

By: The Rev. Marshall A. Jolly

Each of the four Gospels sets out to do two basic things. First, they seek to tell of Jesus of Nazareth. Second, they seek to tell their respective audiences why they should care about this guy named Jesus from Nazareth. In the same way that writing Gospel has at its core these two interrelated tasks, so too does preaching Gospel.

In order to preach this text effectively, the preacher must be aware of John’s overarching program. Each of the Gospels have their idiosyncrasies and preconceptions, but John’s Gospel isn’t just different—it’s really different! John’s Gospel begins, not with a sequential narration of genealogy/incarnation (Matthew and Luke), nor with baptism (Mark). Rather, John begins with theology: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” (John 1:1). This central Christological claim serves as John’s thesis statement. From the opening words of the Gospel, John tells the reader who Jesus is: Word made flesh; and why the reader should care: this eternal Word is not simply in relationship with God; the Word is God. Every subsequent argument and claim about Jesus that the Fourth Gospel makes hinges on this crucial first claim.

This is especially true for interpreting John 10:22-30. Here, Jesus is asked for the first and only time in the Fourth Gospel, whether he is the Messiah. Instead of a simple “yes” or a simple “no,” Jesus restates his earlier claims, before rephrasing the most important claim of the Fourth Gospel: “The Father and I are one” (v. 30). Jesus then utilizes the question as an opportunity to expand the notion of Messiah from the simple notion of one sent or anointed by God, to a much broader and cosmic understanding of God made flesh.

“Tell us plainly!” Enough with the metaphors! You can keep your imagery! Just put an end to our wondering and tell us once and for all: are you the Messiah or not!? By chapter 10 of John’s Gospel, Jesus’ interrogators were desperate for clarity. The Fourth Gospel portrays Jesus as a quasi-mystical figure who, at times, speaks in heavily coded theological idioms. In other words, clarity and concision are not Jesus’ style.

If Jesus responds to their statement, “If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly” with a clear affirmation, then the Jewish establishment can label him a heretic and a blasphemer and begin the process under which one dealt with said offenses under Jewish religious law. By contrast, if Jesus answers in the negative, then the Jewish establishment can dismiss him out of hand. Instead, Jesus’ response confounds both possibilities, as it becomes increasingly clear that Jesus’ claim to Messiahship is at odds with the expectations of the Jewish establishment. In the same way that Jesus confounds expectations in his day, how might Jesus confound our expectations of God, and what it means to be God’s beloved?

Another possible avenue for preaching this text is to consider its implications for dispelling what is one of the most pervasive lies ever told about the Christian life: Namely, that it is easy or uncomplicated. The Christological and soteriological arguments at work in this passage are complicated enough, let alone the larger claims employed in the Fourth Gospel as a whole. And yet, while Jesus’ interrogators are focused upon understanding Jesus so they can figure out what to do next, Jesus is focused on those who believe in him and follow him. Although understanding and belief are interrelated, they are also distinct.

Understanding is a cognitive process. It implies perceiving the intended meaning of words and language and events. Belief, however, goes a step further. Belief requires an acceptance of something as true. Jesus encountered scores of people in his own day who understood his words and languages and events but did not believe them. Christians in our own day need not look far to find those who are more concerned with understanding religious arguments and theological claims than believing in the One who is the object of religion and theology: The God revealed in Jesus Christ.

Note well one final but important word of caution. Preachers and teachers must take care to unpack the way in which John pervasively and generically utilizes the word Ἰουδαῖος—the Jews. At various times in history, John’s use of this word has incorrectly and harmfully come to mean all Jews, and has served as a wholesale indictment of the Jewish people. Responsible preaching must be attentive to the ways in which the text has been misused to abuse and malign. One creative approach to this might be to consider utilizing John’s casual use of “the Jews” to invite our communities to explore how we too might be engaging in a similar practice of stereotyping.

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The Rev. Marshall A. Jolly

The Rev. Marshall A. Jolly is the 26th rector of Grace Episcopal Church in Morganton, North Carolina. He is a graduate of Transylvania University (BA, American Studies) and Emory University’s Candler School of Theology (MDiv & Certificate in Anglican Studies), where he is currently completing a doctorate in Biblical interpretation and proclamation. In his elusive moments of spare time, he enjoys running, reading, and cooking–though not at the same time! He is also the editor of ModernMetanoia.org.

Easter 3(C): How Will We Respond?

Easter 3(C): How Will We Respond?

John 21:1-19

By: Casey Cross

In the history of my serving as a youth, children, and family minister, there is one thing I really love to do. I get to talk to children and their parents about communion. We do not offer a series of classes leading up to one’s First Communion where kids are dropped off on a weekly basis until they can answer a series of questions in just the right way. The First Communion part of it isn’t the focus. Instead, we offer communion instruction for children or youth and at least one parent or guardian from the household. I always make a point to tell families, especially families with younger children, that they can revisit this instruction again and again. We can never spend too much time learning the Bible stories and wondering over the mystery of God’s presence in this simple act. In fact, I’d argue that Holy Communion is the epitome of our life together. It is where we experience the mystery of our faith in the most mundane of human acts, eating and drinking with friends and strangers, not even 100% sure of why we are there, but saying yes to the invitation anyway.

One of the first things I do in my communion instruction is ask families to talk about their favorite foods and special meals. A party isn’t a party without good food, good drink, and good friends. Balloons and piñatas are just that extra bit of flair. Of course, some kids might argue with me on that point. What I notice in this conversation is that everybody smiles. That simple question brings them somewhere else, links them to that favorite food or moment, and sparks a smile. I don’t think they even realize the way their eyes are shining or how the smile curls at their lips. It is a beautiful sight to see.

All I could think about when reading this passage from John was how much Jesus understood the centrality of food to our personal and communal connection and wellbeing. Food matters. It is not always the type or amount that makes a difference, but the manner in which it is shared.

It must have been a confusing and difficult time for Jesus’ disciples. I am sure, even after Jesus first appeared to them and did all of these miraculous things, they must have been left wondering, “Now what?” So I totally get that Peter had to get busy doing something as a way of sorting through all of his thoughts and feelings. I know quite a few people who like to go fishing for this very same reason. And in their “Now what?” numbness, the others followed him to the boat. They didn’t catch anything, but maybe that wasn’t their main purpose for being there. Maybe they weren’t even trying that hard. So when some dude from the beach tells them to try the other side, of course they would. Their hearts weren’t in it anyway. But this is what shakes them awake. THAT’S A LOT OF FISH! And, “Did that guy just call us children?” Then they see. This is their Lord. He is still with them. Again, Peter jumps into action and jumps into the water. They get to the shore and they are invited to sit around the campfire for breakfast, time together, communion. With the sharing of the bread, they had no doubt this was the Lord.

Jesus and Peter have a moment. In this moment, their entire life together comes into focus, the whole point of it all. “Do you love me?” How many of us have put ourselves in Peter’s place, thinking, “Of course! Of course I love you!” It is so easy to think, so easy to say. But Jesus pushes and continues to ask, “Do you love me?” Peter is hurt, thinking Jesus doesn’t believe him or hear him. Peter is focused on his personal love for Jesus. But Jesus is meeting Peter at the limits of his understanding and pushing, broadening his vision of what this love means. Where does our love for Jesus take us? Not to a building once a week for prayers and songs, but to each other.

Here is the resurrected Jesus’ call to all of us, with words, yes, but most especially modeled in his interactions with others. “Feed my lambs.” Feed my children. I do not think this is simply a metaphorical statement. Those who suffer the most from hunger are the children of our world. I think Jesus wants us to wake up and see the simple, most obvious meaning in this first call and response. Do we love Jesus? Then feed one another, make sure no one is hungry, especially our children.

In the second call and response, Jesus asks again if Peter loves him. Peter says again, “Yes Lord, you know that I love you.” And here Jesus takes the next step of pushing him further. “Tend my sheep.” Pay attention to and look after one another. Serve one another. Care for one another. This love is not about you, it is about the manner in which it is shared.

A third time Jesus asks of Peter’s love. He responds to Peter’s hurt and frustration with, “Feed my sheep,” but also some more instruction. When we let our love for Jesus lead our lives, we are led to people and places we would have never imagined for ourselves. We connect with people we would have never otherwise chosen to connect with. We are pushed beyond our comfort zone, even to the point of facing death.

Jesus concludes with a final call, “Follow me.” We do not hear Peter’s reply. We do not hear any more about this breakfast on the beach. We are left with the call. We are left to respond, not with our words, but with our very lives. Will we?

There is power in the meals we share. Certain foods connect us to not only special times, but special people. I was recently introduced to a resource that is committed to connecting grieving people through the power of food called, The Dinner Party (https://www.thedinnerparty.org/). Their tag line is, “We know what it’s like to lose someone and we aren’t afraid to talk about it.” The premise is simple. After signing up, you meet for dinner and bring something that reminds you of the person you lost. Simple, but not so simple because this food is so much more than food. When we meet for communion, we are doing the same thing. In communion, we meet Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. We join the body of Christ that transcends time, connecting us with the past, the now, and the not yet. In communion, the stories we’ve read in the Bible since we were children become real stuff for us to chew on and embody in the world. This is what happened in every one of those resurrection stories, where Jesus is made obvious, real, and living among his followers with the breaking of the bread. When we gather for communion, we gather with the disciples on the beach, around a fire. We are sitting with Peter, hearing the call of love for Jesus and being left to respond with our lives to follow him.

 

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Casey Cross

Casey Cross is serves as the Young Disciples Director at Hope Lutheran Church in Eagle, Idaho. Check out some of her other writing at http://caseykcross.wordpress.com.

Easter 2(C): Sucking Wind

**EDITOR’S NOTE: This essay was originally published for Easter 2 in 2017**

Easter 2(C): Sucking Wind

John 20:19-31

By: The Rev. Kim Jenne

Sucking Wind

My Grandpa Charlie spent the last of his life suffering from chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. COPD makes it hard to breathe because air flowing in and out of your airways is restricted, so you are progressively, and sometimes, aggressively relying on less and less oxygen. Grandpa would joke that he was “sucking wind” because it seemed his mouth would blow away more oxygen than it took in. As you might imagine, with COPD comes anxiety. The anxiety is contagious. Watching him wheeze and suck desperately at the air around him was painful and angst-ridden for my whole family. In his last months, nothing gave me more pleasure than sitting at his bedside during and after a breathing treatment. The gift of breath—the opening of the airways in his lungs—relaxed his oft-tensed face and his body. And then the Grandpa I knew and loved would reappear with a smile and a wink.

Anyone who has ever had the wind knocked out of them or experienced a panic attack knows that breath is one biological commodity that you only notice when it’s gone. That first wonderful gasp of air inflating your lungs after falling flat on your back off the swing set is like being reborn. The world looks different.

I think this might have been the case for the followers of Jesus when he summoned and gifted the Holy Spirit by his breath that evening on the first day. I imagine his appearance within the locked room sucked what little breath was left in it. And with a simple greeting of peace and the gift of breath, he gives them new life (cf. Gen. 2:7) invoking a new world whereby the relationship between God and humanity had forever changed. The world looked different.

Becoming God-Begotten (Reception of the Holy Spirit)

This passage in John witnesses Jesus widening his circle of post-resurrection believers. There is much to unpack in John’s second post-resurrection story. And yet, the practical preacher may find it best to focus on one of the three areas of this passage and allow the mystery of Easter to continue to resound. In particular, vv. 19-23 offers the hearer ample depth to plumb in reflection on the new relationship established through Christ’s resurrection and the connection between Jesus’ greeting of “peace be with you” and reconciliation through forgiveness. This passage, in particular, provides an opportunity for a congregation to wrestle with the purpose of the cross and what it says about the character of God.

As the sun begins to set on that first day, Jesus isn’t finished up-ending the world. This is the second post-resurrection appearance in John. Mary encountered her living “Rabbouni” (Teacher) in the place of her dead Lord early that morning and has sought out the disciples to share the Good News. When we next hear from the disciples, they are hiding out in a locked house.

Are the disciples are huddled in the dark because of what they heard Peter say about the empty tomb or are they wincing with anticipation of their own persecution foretold by their leader (Jn. 15.18-27)? It may be helpful to unpack for a Sunday morning crowd that the depiction of the disciples locked away “for fear of the Jews,” is closely connected to the growing tension and conflict between the synagogue and the Christian community at the end of the first century rather than the contemporary political climate immediately following the Roman execution of Jesus. The author, therefore, is writing into the Gospel narrative their own experience of persecution and marginalization within the Jewish community.

Despite this contextualization, the Gospel’s author offers a critical teaching in the way the Christ works in our life in this post-resurrection world. Forgiveness is a relational thing. We have to be in relationship in order to give and receive forgiveness. Jesus’ appearances to his disciples are bodily affairs: they cling to one another (v. 17), they are close enough to feel one another’s breath (v. 22), they reach for each other and poke one another’s flesh (v. 27). With the in-breaking of God into humanity through the personhood of Jesus, the Godhead is proclaiming a new, personal way of relationship for the believer. No longer are priestly sacrifices or bureaucratic and showy displays of religiosity required. Righteousness is far more basic and yet deeply intimate than that—relationship simply requires our reception of the breath that Christ offers us. That reception of the Holy Spirit can happen anywhere. In our grief. In our fear. In our locked rooms. Christ meets us in our fear and isolation, even when we are huddled together under the cover of darkness scared out of our wits, to empower us for the work of sharing that peace with others.

Christ is our Peace. The Church as Peace-Offeror

The reception of the Holy Spirit brings with it peace. Jesus, through his death and resurrection, is fully united with the Godhead. His greeting of “peace be with you”—offered three times in this chapter—represents the peace that resides in the Godhead and in relationship within each member of the Trinity. He reappears in the lives of his followers to bring them that peace. As the Alternative Service Book declares: “He has reconciled us to God in one body by the cross. We meet in his name and share his peace.”[1]

Like fresh air filling up one’s lung, with the reception of the Holy Spirit, Christ grants the gift of new life that is meant to be shared through forgiveness and reconciliation. As John Wesley would say, the “fruit of this living faith is peace.”[2]

The Gospel offers the Church a chance to renew one of its critical marching orders. In this visit, Jesus teaches the early movement one of its key responsibilities: the power to offer forgiveness, peace, and the Holy Spirit to others. In a world filled with conflict, tension, fear, and pain, what witness does the Christian community and the individual disciple provide? Do we offer the Holy Spirit and gift of new life, or do we horde the gift of liberation for the precious few, particularly the ones we agree with, who look like us, pray like us, spend like us, vote like us?

Life requires breath. Being a follower in the way of Christ means to be receptive to the breath of the Spirit in the life of the community and in its followers. Because the Spirit is inherently relational, one cannot receive the Spirit without sharing that gift with others. The Spirit will always pull the believer toward community, toward relationship, toward the other. That is the Holy Spirit’s desire. It is who the Christ is. On the second Sunday of Easter, the community continues the feast of celebration by readying itself to receive the Holy Spirit.

In common parlance, sucking wind usually refers to people who are breathing heavily, usually while performing some activity, and because they are out of shape. My Grandpa understood that his way of labored breathing was the result of failing systems in his body. The Church might ask itself if it is sucking wind or if, like Jesus, it offers the Holy Spirit’s gift of peace and reconciliation, forgiveness and liberation from sin and oppression readily.

 

[1] Alternative Service Book (1980), 128.

[2] John Wesley, “The Marks of New Birth” (Sermon 18).

 

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The Rev. Kim Jenne

The Rev. Kim Jenne (@kimkjenne) is the Director of Connectional Ministries for the Missouri Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church. The Office of Connectional Ministries is responsible for Annual Conference, Boundaries, Communications, Discipleship Ministries, Safe Sanctuaries, Lay Servant Ministries, and Leadership Development through the Nominations Committee. Before her current appointment, Kim served as senior pastor of Webster Hills United Methodist Church in St. Louis. She is a die-hard St. Louis Cardinals fan, loves NASA and is sorely disappointed we aren’t already living on Mars. She considers herself an inconsistent but persistent disciple of Jesus Christ.

Easter Vigil (C): The Mysterious Night

Easter Vigil (C): The Mysterious Night

John 20:1-18

By: The Rev. Dr. Hannah Adams Ingram

The challenge of preaching during Holy Week and on Easter is that once again, only a year after we’ve told this story, it’s time to tell this story again.

Don’t get me wrong: as far as stories go, it’s a good one. It’s actually the main one for Christians. Christ died, buried, and risen again.

But when you’re a preacher tasked with inviting people into the story year after year anew, almost as if they’ve never heard it before, it’s easy to be intimidated.

It’s in these moments that having multiple versions of the story comes in handy. The lectionary rotates the stories around each year, changing up when we read one passage for Easter Vigil and when we read a different passage for Easter Day. We keep it rotating, and though the changes may seem small, they always provide us with particular lenses through which we can tell the new, old story.

This time around, the Johannine version of the story is reserved for Easter Vigil, which is delightful since the passage begins, “while it was still dark.” Because there is an aura of mystery in the night, there is rich imagery to explore in the mystery of the night, the mystery of the Easter story, and the mystery of faith in the resurrection.

There is mystery in the night simply because we cannot see as clearly in the dark as we can see when the sun is out. This sense of mystery and healthy fear would be embedded in us as animals from generations, dating way before we had electricity and ways to light up entire rooms efficiently. We honor this mystery in a couple different evening services in the life of the church: Easter Vigil and Christmas Eve are two most common, and both of those are connected to the mysterious incarnation of Christ.

There is mystery embedded in the story. Mary Magdalene arrives to the tomb first, and she is shocked and confused to find the stone rolled away. She thinks the body has been stolen, which is a sentiment that seems mysterious to current readers of the text. There is a mystery about who she goes to—Simon Peter and “the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved.” And they do not know more than she does, in fact, the story tells us that they did not understand the scripture.

It is only when Mary Magdalene speaks with the angels and Jesus in the tomb that she realizes that Jesus is not dead, but alive. At first Mary Magdalene did not recognize him—though it is unclear whether that’s because she was so upset and unexpectant or because his post-resurrection self was hard to recognize. Either way, there is mystery surrounding the whole encounter, from the presence of angels to the recognition of Jesus.

Just as Mary Magdalene could not figure out where they took her Lord and just as the disciples “did not understand the scripture,” so it might be with the people of God gathered for Easter Vigil. People come to our churches on Easter for a variety of reasons: tradition, obligation, devotion, or any mix of the three. There are many who will be with us for Easter Vigil and Easter Day that are not sure how to make sense of the Easter story. It is full of mystery, not just for the followers of Jesus who found an empty tomb, but for those of us who read the story today.

Perhaps it is of great comfort for those who have a harder time making sense of the Easter story and the resurrection to hear that they are not alone in the mystery. Just as making one’s way through the dark is scarier alone than with other people, feeling like the only one in the room who can’t make sense of the mysteries of faith is scarier than knowing that there is room in the church for uncertainty. There was room for Mary Magdalene, there was room for Simon Peter and “the other one,” and there is room for all who are ready to embrace the mystery of our Christian faith.

And if we’re lucky, when we embrace the mystery of our Christian faith in the darkened setting of Easter Vigil, we can say that “We have seen the Lord.”

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The Rev. Dr. Hannah Adams Ingram

The Rev. Dr. Hannah Adams Ingram serves as the Director of Religious Life and Chaplain of Franklin College in Franklin, Indiana. She grew up in non-denominational evangelical land and is now an ordained minister in the United Church of Christ. She earned a BA from Anderson University, a Master of Theological Studies at Emory University’s Candler School of Theology, and a PhD in Religion and Psychological Studies from the University of Denver and Iliff School of Theology. Her areas of interest include education, practical theology, and escaping overthinking by baking, crafting, and watching TV.

Easter Sunday (C): The “Crazy” Mysticism of Easter

Easter Sunday (C): The “Crazy” Mysticism of Easter

Luke 24:1–12

By: The Rev. Dr. Daniel London

 

The word that resonates most deeply with me in Luke 24:1–12 is the word which the NRSV translates as “idle talk.” In the original Greek, the word is layros, which means “nonsense” or “folly” or “crazy talk.” The idea of male apostles dismissing the women and their testimony as “crazy” reminds me of the Nike commercial in which Serena Williams exposes the sexism within professional sports that derides female athletes as “crazy” for demonstrating human emotion and ambition. In the ad, Serena makes clear that the women who have initially been dismissed as crazy ultimately prove themselves to be truly courageous and awe-inspiring. Similarly, the women in Luke 24 inspire amazement in the one person who chose to take them seriously. Personally, I have had my fair share of skepticism in response to people’s mystical experiences of the Risen Christ. However, whenever I choose to remain open and look more deeply into such testimonies, I often become amazed and even transformed by that which I initially dismissed.

I teach a class on English Spirituality and Mysticism in which we study medieval English mystics such as Julian of Norwich, the anonymous author of the Cloud of Unknowing, Walter Hilton, and Richard Rolle, who each describe mystical encounters with the Risen Christ in their own unique way. Perhaps the most eccentric of them all is Margery Kempe, who was derided by many in her lifetime and who remains unsettling to readers today. In The Book of Margery Kempe, which is the earliest extant autobiography written in English, Margery describes her experiences with the Risen Christ and the colorful ways in which she expressed her devotion in the 15th century.[i] She would weep, howl, shriek, moan, and roar excessively in the middle of worship services and homilies. She would wear white clothing, a sign of virginity, even though she had fourteen children. On her many pilgrimages to the Holy Land, Spain, Rome, Germany, and beyond, she would zealously tell others about her devout piety, whether they wanted to hear or not. Many of her contemporaries discredited her as hysterical or heretical or simply rejected her words as “idle talk” (layros). In fact, some scholars today question the veracity of her account altogether, arguing that her Book is really a fiction.[ii]

I see Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary, and the other women of Luke 24 as the spiritual mothers of female Christian mystics like Margery Kempe who have been dismissed as crazy but who inspire astonishment in those who choose to take them seriously. These women were the first people to encounter the Risen Christ, the apostles to the apostles, and, like many of their spiritual descendants, their words were considered nonsense according to the men in authority at the time. God chose these women as the first people to witness the resurrection of Christ, perhaps because God knew that they alone would have the courage and strength to be true and faithful to their own experience. Even when their words were discarded by the apostles, they did not seem to waver at all or question their experience of the angels and the empty tomb. They seemed to persist in their message in spite of the apostle’s doubts, thus proving that their faith was, in many ways, superior. Like Peter, who decided to look more deeply into these women’s testimony, I have personally been amazed by the Christian female mystics whose experiences of the Risen Christ have enriched and informed my own. When I probe more deeply into the testimony of Margery Kempe, I become encouraged and amazed by the compassion of the Risen Christ as manifested in her life.

I am moved when I learn that Margery’s copious tears were shed for all people, especially those who were suffering and those whom the church had considered damned. Like Julian of Norwich, Margery’s hopes bended towards universal salvation. I am encouraged by Margery’s experience of Christ’s presence in her day-to-day life, in her travels, trials, and tears. She heard Jesus say to her, “When you go to church, I go with you; when you sit at your meal, I sit with you; when you go to bed, I go with you; and when you go out of town, I go with you.”[iii] Towards the end of her life, Margery experienced Christ’s presence most powerfully in menial and mundane tasks and especially in caring for the sick and needy, including her severely injured and disabled husband. Because she lost one of her sons to a fatal sickness, she felt a deep kinship to Jesus’s mother Mary. In one of her visions, she comforts Mary after Christ’s death by serving her a “good hot drink of gruel and spiced wine.”[iv] In this same vision, she visits with Mary Magdalene, with whom she also felt a kinship, as the Risen Christ appeared to them both. Perhaps the greatest gift I discover in reading Margery’s Book is the invitation to encounter the Risen Christ in my own day-to-day life, in my own travels, trials, and tears. This gift helps me realize that the invitation of Easter is, after all, an invitation to mystical experience with the Risen Christ.

Sometimes the term “mystical” can turn people off because it sounds too obscure and esoteric and a bit like “crazy talk” (layros). However, Jesuit theologian Karl Rahner insisted, “The Christian of the future will either be a ‘mystic’ or will cease to be anything at all.”[v] According to Rahner, the future of Christianity depends on our willingness to take seriously the invitation of the Christian female mystics, which is the same invitation of Easter: to encounter the Risen Christ in our lives here and now, no matter how crazy that might seem. Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary, Margery Kempe, and countless other female mystics urge us to let our imaginations be stirred and inspired by the resurrection. To those whose thinking is dominated by death, the resurrection-stirred imagination will seem like nonsense (1 Corinthians 1:18), but not to those who look deeply and peer curiously into the empty tomb. For those who refuse to dismiss the women’s testimony as layros, the Risen Christ is waiting to be discovered and experienced here and now in the “crazy” mysticism of Easter.

[i] The Book of Margery Kempe, trans. and ed. B. A. Windeatt (Harmondsworth: Penguin), 1985. A helpful introduction to Margery Kempe and the medieval English mystics is Joan M. Nuth, God’s Lovers in an Age of Anxiety: The Medieval English Mystics (London: Darton Longman & Todd, 2001), 121-140. Also recommended is Bernard McGinn, The Varieties of Vernacular Mysticism 1350 – 1550 (New York: Herder and Herder, 2012), 331-490.

[ii] Lynn Staley, Margery Kempe’s Dissenting Fictions (University Park PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1994).

[iii] The Book of Margery Kempe 1:14, 66.

[iv] The Book of Margery Kempe 1:81, 236.

[v] Karl Rahner, Theological Investigations VII, trans. David Bourke (New York: Herder and Herder, 1971), 15.

Fr. Daniel at Christ Church
The Rev. Dr. Daniel London

The Rev. Dr. Daniel London is the Rector of Christ Episcopal Church in Eureka California. He earned his PhD in Christian Spirituality at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley California and teaches English Spirituality and Mysticism at the Center for Anglican Learning and Leadership (CALL). An abbreviated version of this course is available at ChurchNext. When he’s not reading the English Mystics, he is sauntering through the redwoods, playing acoustic guitar and ukulele, or listening to music from his modest vinyl record collection, with his wife Dr. Ashley London Bacchi.

 

 

Trinity Sunday (B): Be Moved to Join the Movement

Trinity Sunday (B): Be Moved to Join the Movement

John 3:1-17

By: Casey Cross

Every extraordinary experience sparks from the ordinary.  Full of curiosity, Nicodemus proactively seeks Jesus out at night. Jesus transforms what was an inconspicuous evening into a remarkable, life-changing event.

What I love about the Gospel of John is the way we readers, thousands of years later, are turned into witnesses. We become witnesses not just to fact-based, hard-nosed, “real news,” but to God’s reality on earth. We become witnesses, not to an ideology, but to the movement of God. We are suddenly standing alongside Nicodemus, bound by our physical bodies and limited perspective, about to have our mind blown by a completely new way of seeing and being in the world.

In this particular story, we see Jesus launch the transformation of Nicodemus from questioning leader, ἄρχων (John 3:1), to witness, μάρτυς (John 3:11) to the movement of God. The movement of God is Trinitarian; it is physical, spiritual, and divine. It takes our full selves to be part of this movement. We cannot compartmentalize it to one hour or one day. We cannot compartmentalize it to a single choice and belief. This is difficult for us to grasp because our entire world is about compartmentalization. We count the minutes and hours of our days, divvying up our time to work, relationships, goals, celebrations, conversations, and chores. This is also difficult for us to grasp because so much of our lives are about reaching certain dates, milestones and achievements. We live by the idea that once we reach that particular place, we will have “made it.” Nevertheless, the movement of God blurs and smudges the lines by which we have ordered our lives. The movement of God never stops. The movement is, in essence, God’s full self – Father, Son, and Spirit. During this late-night conversation, Jesus invites Nicodemus to wake up, be “born again,” move beyond the limits of his occupation and title and join the movement.

In his book, The Divine Dance, Father Richard Rohr describes the movement of God as flow. To join God’s movement is to step, jump, or dive into the flow of God’s full self with our full selves. The tide of God’s movement leads us to a way of life that is always growing, evolving, transforming; a way of life that is about unification, alignment, and action.

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Source: https://upliftconnect.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/12/Light-9-1.png

Like Nicodemus, it takes a little time for us to catch on. It’s hard to be moved from all that we know – this one body, this one life, our understanding of science and creation. Even without fully understanding Jesus’ words, Nicodemus is caught up in the tide of conversation and can’t stop himself from asking, “How can anyone be born after having grown old?” Jesus doesn’t back down. With Jesus’ response, we 21st century readers are no longer merely observers of a late-night conversation. Jesus’ reply vibrates and echoes from the pages of the Bible to us, today. “You must be born from above.”

Jesus tells us to move beyond dualistic thinking into a Trinitarian way of being, the place where our bodies, mind, soul, and spirit meet. Jesus calls Nicodemus, and all of us, to live in the realization of all that we are. We are not just machines, a body moving by habit and functionality. We are not just spontaneous balls of unaware reactivity to the life being lived around us. God made us to be part of the Movement. While we struggle with discernment, wondering what God is truly calling us to, remember that the answer will always involve our full selves, it will involve our transformation (often over and over again), it will involve us physically moving, following the example of Jesus, and getting into it.

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Source: https://vtn.co/wp-content/uploads/2018/03/parkland-survivor-emma-gonzalez-holds-powerful-moment-of-silence-at-march-for-our-lives.jpg

Consider the social movements we witness in history books and the news. These movements do not appear from nowhere. They are products of an accumulation of factors, but we often wonder where they came from. Like the wind, we hear the sound of it, see the effects of these movements, but we do not always know where they came from or where they will go. Isn’t this just like the movement of God? Isn’t this exactly what Jesus is calling Nicodemus, and all of us, to join?

 

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Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christian_mysticism#/media/File:Grunewald_-_christ.jpg

Jesus knows we are suspicious. Jesus knows we are trapped by our need for tangible, provable facts. Yet, in this conversation, Jesus doesn’t stop there. We are called to join the Movement. Despite ourselves, we are made witnesses. We are not witnesses of our own understanding, but of God’s action, movement, in the world, for the world. Receive the testimony given to us by the Living Word who walked among us. Bear witness. Wake up. Be moved with your full self – your emotions, your mind, soul, and strength. Rise up. Join the movement of God. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Casey Cross

Casey Cross serves as Young Disciples Director at Hope Lutheran Church in Eagle, Idaho. She can be found in the kitchen with her husband, walking her black lab, Lola, listening to music, drinking coffee, reading too many books at once, and sitting around, thinking about stuff that might eventually get written about on her blog: http://caseykcross.wordpress.com.

 

 

Ascension Day: Making Space

Ascension Day: Making Space

Luke 24:44-53

By: The Rev. Chana Tetzlaff

Although I began serving my parish less than a year ago, it is evident to me that we have a space issue. Not because we’re starting to outgrow our building and Sunday morning worship feels a little cramped. Not because there are calendar conflicts between groups wanting to reserve use of our flexible space. No, the space issue that my congregation finds most challenging is in making room for those people who don’t conform to the norm of “how we’ve always done it.”

How does this issue manifest in the parish? Mostly through conversations about what it means to include noisy, boisterous children who wander around the sanctuary and distract us from contemplative worship. Or in conversations about whether or not to have designated alcohol-free fellowship events because some young families have requested family-friendly activities (“but no one will come!”). Or why it was courteous during the interfaith Lenten series we hosted, not to pray specifically “in Jesus name.” I’ll admit, most of these conversations have been induced by me and I’ve been pushing the point about “radical hospitality,” otherwise known as “making space for the other.” But it didn’t dawn on me until I read David Cunningham’s (Professor of Religion at Hope College in Holland, Michigan) commentary on Ascension Day as to why this has been such an urgent and imperative point for me.

David observes that the Ascension is not really about the physical act of Jesus’s return to the Father but that the Ascension is about Jesus “making space so the mission of the church can begin.” One simple sentence opened my mind to understand an elemental belief I hold about God:

Making space is essential to God’s nature.

David goes on to cite Rowan Williams’ writings on the Trinity. He notes that “each of the three divine ‘persons’ seeks not to gain pride of place or to assert hierarchical dominion over the others, but to give place to the others, so that they too can most fully be what they are. As such, the divine Trinity models for us the true nature of community, in which self-assertion and hegemony give way to a polyphonic chorus of mutual participation and difference.”

Scripture attests to this.[1] From Genesis to Revelation, scripture is full of ways that God makes space creatively and purposefully, continually reminding us “See! I am doing a new thing. Do you not perceive it?”

In the nascent act of creation itself, God opens up the void and implants it with an interdependent community – vegetation, animals, oceans and fishes, birds, and humans who are commissioned to “rule and serve all [God’s] creatures.” From nothing comes life. God makes space for others to participate in God’s dance and to be fully what they are.

In the Exodus, when the Hebrew people find their path barred by the Red Sea as they flee from Pharaoh’s armies, God makes space. God divides the waters so that the people might pass through. From chaos and uncertainty, a new community emerges—the Hebrew people enter into covenant relationship, place trust in the God who liberates.

In the time of Exile, as God allows God’s people to be dispersed throughout foreign empires and Jerusalem falls to rubble and ruin, God makes space for transformation. God inspires prophets to exhort the people to return to God’s ways, and to remind them that God has not forgotten them though the community must learn to sing God’s praises even in a foreign land.

As the heavy hand of the Roman Empire slowly crushes the spirit of God’s people, the Virgin Mary consents to God’s request to use her life and her body to make space for God to incarnate. Definitely a new thing, and a promise of new life.

Christ persistently makes space around his own table, including those deemed beyond the pale of decent society (sinners and tax collectors) as well as Pharisees. He makes space in his busy schedule of preaching and teaching to touch the untouchables, to heal lepers and hemorrhaging women and to bring the dead back to life. He invites despised “outsiders” into relationship with him, Samaritans and Roman centurions and criminals. A community forms of people who otherwise might have nothing to do with each other.

God makes space in the empty tomb. Resurrection is unquestionably a new thing. The empty tomb becomes for us a sign of God’s promises: new life, reconciliation, and the shalom of God’s kingdom being ushered in.

Christ’s Ascension makes space for Pentecost; for the arrival of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit makes possible the expansion of Christ’s mission from local to global. The Spirit continues to remake and renew God’s church, perpetually calling us into the reality of John’s vision of God’s kingdom: the gates of the new Jerusalem eternally flung open, overflowing with the river of life and shaded by the tree of life which produces healing for all the nations. From beginning to end, God gives place in community – mutual participation in all our God-created difference.

So why is making space and giving place so hard for us to do?

So often our culture teaches us a false dichotomy, that in order for someone else to be fully who they are means that I have to miss out. In a conflict, there are only winners or losers; for someone else to win, I have to lose. Or “there’s only so much pie to go around,” so if someone else gets a bigger slice then my slice is necessarily smaller. By all our “normal” cultural standards, this concept of giving place or making space goes against our rugged individualism. But when we recall that God doesn’t play by our rules, that God’s love is not scarce in supply and thus something to be hoarded, when we revel in being most fully what God has created us to be then we are free to invite others to discover fully who God has created them to be.

Making space is not easy work, particularly when we have grounded ourselves in particular religious, spiritual, and emotional spaces. God asks us to let go of our self-centeredness, our worldly illusions of stature, our need for control, our fear of change. Participation in that polyphonic chorus often looks and feels more like a rock tumbler. We tumble against each other until all our rough edges are smoothed out… that’s true community. Perhaps our exasperation with that child’s noisy shoes might give way to joy when we realize that she is a sign of new life in our midst. Perhaps if we make more of an effort to reach out to people who feel like outsiders, they might start showing up to more communal gatherings. Perhaps we can still passionately proclaim Christ through our ministry to others, modeling repentance and forgiveness of sins, even as we respect other faith traditions. Perhaps we can do mission not to the other but with the other.

What new thing may God be calling you and your people to become aware of? In what ways does God call you into deeper participation with God and with each other? What space must be made in order for your people to grow and your mission to be met?

For God is always doing a new thing. Do you not perceive it?

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The Rev. Chana Tetzlaff

The Rev. Chana Tetzlaff is Priest-in-Charge of Holy Cross Episcopal Church in Wilmington, North Carolina. Her greatest joy as a priest is walking with people who seek and follow Christ in deep relationship with each other. Chana believes that God’s grace is extended to all, and that nothing is impossible when we truly seek and attend to God’s call to us! In her spare time, Chana can be found dancing Lindy Hop and teaching basic swing, enjoying conversation and caffeine at a coffee house, or exploring local attractions and foodie hangouts. Chana, her husband, TJ, and their two dogs, Molly and Momo, live in Wilmington.

 

 

 

[1] I am grateful to The Rev. Chance Perdue for the insightful examples in his eloquent sermon preached at the Church of the Redeemer, Nashville, TN that prompted my thinking about the scripture portion of this essay. Check it out at: http://redeemernashville.libsyn.com/the-god-who-makes-space