7th Sunday of Easter(B): Called in Prayer and Sustained in Love

By: The Rev. Kimble Sorrells

This Sunday’s text invites us into an intimate moment in the life of Jesus: his prayer and conversation with his Father amid his farewell to his disciples. While the opening and closing parts of his prayer are selections for other days of the lectionary, this central section focuses on his prayer for the disciples as he anticipates their life without him.

Jesus’ words convey that the disciples are called into his mission and will be sent into the world to live out their lives of faith. There is no escaping the world or its hardships; indeed, he says that the world will hate them. Yet they are called to be set apart as holy and a witness—to live in the tension of being “in the world but not of the world.” It’s important to note that while the prayer carries a weight of responsibility, it also reflects reassurance that they will not be left alone, but are entrusted to God’s ongoing care, guidance, and protection.

It is easy today to see faith and spirituality as a personal matter—something that I do for my own self and my own wellbeing. We might see it primarily as being about feeling filled and connected to the Divine presence. As someone whose ministry is primarily focused on contemplative practices and retreat ministry, these aspects are obviously something that I think are important. However, this prayer reminds us that Jesus’ final request for his followers was for our faith to be about much more than or own personal lives. While it’s good to rest and withdraw from the world to recharge, we must return to engage the world around us. As followers of Christ, we are called to bear witness to God’s ways of truth and justice. A faithful follower and faithful community must take seriously its role of being in solidarity with the victims of injustice and marginalization, calling out the broken systems and engaging in active witness to God’s ways.

It seems that the times we are living in have made this tension even more apparent. Many in our faith communities are likely experiencing a bit “world-weary.” We have now lived through just over a year of a life-altering pandemic, and while we have hope of vaccines, we are certainly not out of the woods yet. Through this time, we also have experienced heightened suffering due to systemic racism, especially in the areas of police brutality and violence. Our country has grappled with the epidemic of gun violence as we see ongoing mass shootings. And of course, the threats to democracy that seemed a given shook our sense of security in a peaceful state. This isn’t an exhaustive list of all that’s happening, but it does seem exhausting.

To say that many of us are tired would be an understatement. If Jesus was sitting in front of me praying right now, I will be honest that I would much prefer that he pray for me to have a nice vacation—perhaps a little get away to the mountains. However, when Jesus prayed for his disciples (and that does include us today), he prayed that they not be taken out of the world but rather be made holy as a witness within it.

The key of holding this tension lies in the hope that Jesus also entrusted us to God’s care, guidance, and loving presence. We can find fulfillment, rest, and joy as we experience connection to God and feel God’s love. This allows us to live as called people bearing witness to God’s ways in the world. In this way Jesus’ prayer offers us both a weighty responsibility and the reassurance that we are not alone; that God is with us.

In preaching or teaching on this text, one might spend time exploring what this tension looks like to your community. How is it that they might need to find ways to retreat and tap into and connect with the Joy of God’s love, and how is it that they might need to bear witness to that by engaging in the world around them? What is happening locally that contrasts with Jesus’ radical message of justice? How is it that your community might engage in faithful witness—both individually and collectively? What ways do you need to examine your own community of faith? Are there ways that it falls short of the ways of justice and inclusion?

In preparing for worship or meditation, you may wish to examine the ways that your community may be feeling world-weary as well. What would serve to connect to God’s Love at this time? How might you spend time resting in the joy that Christ prays his disciples will experience? As we listen anew to the text for this week, we are invited again to overhear this intimate conversation between Jesus and his Father. We are invited again to receive a prayer on our behalf and lean into the call of discipleship, held and led by the Love of God as we go forth into the world.

The Rev. Kimble Sorrells is an ordained minister in the United Church of Christ and a graduate of Candler School of Theology (Emory University) and Berry College. Kimble’s interests are in using spirituality and contemplative practices to equip us with the peace and resolve to be justice makers in the world. They are also a Registered Yoga Teacher and draw on this and other spiritual traditions to inform their ministry. Kimble has experience in a variety of ministry settings. They have worked in LGBTQ advocacy for many years including as staff for Reconciling Ministries Network and the Atlanta Pride Committee, and organizing with Atlanta’s Trans and Queer community. They have also served in local congregations and as hospital chaplain. Kimble is also dedicated to civic engagement and is a member of the Civil Air Patrol and an Alumni of Americorps Program.

6th Sunday of Easter(B): God’s Kind of Friendship

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By: The Rev. Kim Jenne

Growing up, I bristled when my church sang the popular hymn, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” As a kid, I thought the song too sappy and monotonously rhymey. In my small Illinois town, I was firmly in the minority opinion, given how often the song was chosen during hymn sings. The song has long maintained a love-hate relationship among critics and the masses. As the Handbook to the Lutheran Hymnal notes, “In spite of the fact that this hymn, with its tune, has been criticized as being too much on the order of the sentimental gospel type, its popularity remains strong, and the hymn retains a place in modern hymnals.”[1] My teenage condescension seems to have been made harmless by the tremendous service the hymn has provided to generations through the years.

Looking back, my reaction to the song’s sentimentality probably had more to do with the quality of my friendships at the time than my relationship with God. I couldn’t identify a friend in whom I could share all my weaknesses and sorrows. I had learned quickly that middle school friends were often not the best equipped to help bear my griefs and burdens. My “friends” seemed to delight in my trials and tribulations so the metaphor of “Jesus as friend” was not one I desired. I wanted my Jesus to be my rescuer, my defender, my God.

In middle age, I am becoming more appreciative of the song’s sentiments – even if they still seem a bit saccharine – especially as I spend more and more time in the fifteenth chapter of John’s Gospel.

Typically, during the weeks of Eastertide, we remember the accounts of Jesus’ appearances during the forty days between his resurrection and his ascension and then the 10 days of waiting for the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost. But this week, we don’t read a resurrection story.

Today’s lection is a speech of Jesus while he was still alive. These speeches are read during Eastertide because they are a sort of preparatory teaching – preparing the disciples for what lies ahead. This part of the Gospel of John sometimes referred to as the Book of Glory (13.1-20.31), a section demonstrating how those who believe in him become children of God. Scholars have identified chapters 14-17 of John’s Gospel as a presentation of several of the teachings of Jesus in the form of a “farewell address.”

Because of the repeated themes in chapter five, the careless reader might be tempted to speed through the verses set aside for the sixth Sunday of Easter. In doing so, they will miss some of the most intimate indications of God’s desire for relationship with humanity. Or they may find themselves collectively humming, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” as verse 15 is read aloud. Either way, the skilled preacher might consider unpacking what’s it means to be a friend of the Godhead including the notion of consent (according to Jesus, we get a choice in this relationship) and reciprocity (this is perfect friendship, shattering the barriers that often cause human friendships to stumble).

Jesus tells his disciples that his relationship to the Father has forever changed how we will be in relationship with God. Key to this relationship, according to Jesus, is remaining in his love. Remaining or abiding, from the Greek menó (to stay, abide, remain; of him who cleaves, holds fast, to a thing) should come as good news. We have a Creator who wants to be with us. Yet, in my experience as pastor, many church-going folks would prefer a root canal over hanging out with their Lord and Savior. Philosopher and spiritual formation teacher Dallas Willard reminds us that “the single most important thing about us is our idea of God and its associated images.” Far too many people have a picture of God that conflicts with the image Jesus shares in today’s reading. That picture often causes people to want to keep their distance from the Father.

Friendship as Being

But Eastertide offers preachers an opportunity to disrupt old notions of God for new generations. It also affords the teaching office to dispel any possibility of discipleship shortcuts for an on-demand culture. My spiritual director used to start our conversations by asking, “Are you still on speaking terms with God?” She was asking, have you been remaining or abiding in God’s love. Was I putting in the work to be the kind of friend that God’s desires in me? This is a life-long pursuit of investing in my friendship with God.

In “Being Disciples: Essentials of the Christian Life,” Rowan Williams describes relationship maintenance with God in this way, “Discipleship is a specific way of being. It’s not intermittent. It’s keeping company with Jesus.” Keeping company with Jesus may sound easy. It is certainly what the early followers of Jesus did. Repeatedly, we hear of people – some committed, some simply curious – following him around the countryside. Classically, students hung out with their teacher as a way of learning. Jesus, in the role of the good rabbi, has a group of students who are abiding with him and learning first-hand what it means to be in true relationship with the Father. The Twelve certainly would have understood their relationship to Jesus in this age-old pattern of teacher to student. In his farewell address in John, Jesus is clarifying that their relationship is far more intimate than teacher and student. It is one of abiding friendship and love.

Learning rather than Trying

For disciples who are in pursuit of this kind of relationship with God, but have struggled with commitment to their spiritual practice, a pastor might encourage them to consider eliminating the word “try” from their vocabulary. A spiritual mentor once suggested this after listening to me complain about my fits and starts in my spiritual journey. “Embrace the role of a life-long learner of Jesus,” he suggested. “Instead of try, what if you used the word, learn? You’re not trying to keep the company of Jesus; you’re learning to keep the company of Jesus.” This psychological shift has given me grace to continue learning how to be a better friend to Jesus.

Which is a lesson we might all need to learn. We are learning to abide in God’s love. We are learning to keep God’s commandments and we are learning to love one another as God has loved us. Jesus sets the groundwork for a disciple’s learning plan in this lectionary reading.

[1] W. G. Polack. Handbook to the Lutheran Hymnal (1941). St. Louis: Concordia. p. 323.

**The Rev. Kim Jenne** serves as Director of Connectional Ministries for the Missouri Conference of The United Methodist Church. Before her current appointment, Kim served as pastor of Webster Hills UMC 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. She is slowly learning to keep company with God on a more regular basis.

5th Sunday of Easter(B): Incarnation of Love

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Sundays such as this are one of the main reasons I enjoy following and preaching from the lectionary. Each of these four texts have such wisdom and key pieces of the gospel flowing throughout them and really can stand on their own as formative texts from which to share the good news of the resurrection. However, when they are joined together as the lectionary readings for the Fifth Sunday of Easter, the theme of love provides a lens from which the preacher can begin their interpretive framework.

The epistle reading from 1^st John focuses on the importance of love in the early church and the Johannine community. In fact, this section of 1 John could be read as a defining characteristic of the incarnation. “No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and his love is made complete in us” (1 John 4:12). We participate in the very incarnation of God through the love that Christ invites us to participate within. The “new life” of Easter is a life of love. I think if we focus on this important distinction, our interpretations of both the readings from Acts and the Gospel of John can be strengthened.

I have often heard sermons preached on Philip’s meeting with the Ethiopian eunuch as a reflection on the importance of our evangelistic work or our treatment of the foreigner. And, of course these things are amply important. However, as the political conflict continues to erupt over our (United States of America) own border with Mexico, it seems as if many in the USA seem to think that we, like Philip, have the answers for the foreigner seeking assistance.

We sometimes forget the power of the Spirit that is at work in this story from the book of Acts. Sudarshana Devadhar (resident bishop, New England, Conference, United Methodist Church) interprets Luke’s note of the time of day as an indicator of the guidance of the Spirit and Philip’s holy discernment:

At the end of Acts 8:26, which reads, “An angel from the Lord spoke to Philip, ‘At noon, take the road that leads from Jerusalem to Gaza,’” Luke makes a point, parenthetically, to tell the reader: “This is a desert road.” We don’t know why Luke specified the time of day, but it might indicate that Philip was called to go out in the heat of midday. In any case, this is a tall order for Philip, which seems to come from out of the blue! The text provides no explanation for the angel’s visit. What’s more, there is no indication that Philip questioned the angel about either the message or the assignment—Why he should go? Could he do it a little later in the day when the desert heat is more congenial for travel? Was there an alternative route he could take? Wasn’t there someone else who could go on this errand or at least accompany him? The text doesn’t indicate that Philip raised any objections or asked any questions. It simply says, the angel of the Lord told him to go; “So he did” (v. 27).[1]

I wonder how we might interpret this scripture differently through the lens of an incarnation of love in Philip’s spirit. Could it be that Philip is able to share the good news of the gospel with the Ethiopian eunuch because he was so connected to the love of God through the incarnation of Christ? The preacher of these texts might explore the ways our spirit of love, as connected by Christ, affects and calls us to treat our fellow human beings differently and with more understanding (a play on words from the conversation Philip and the Ethiopian share).

In a similar way, the incarnation of love from 1 John may adjust the ways in which we interpret the lectionary text from the Gospel of John. Similar to the text from Acts, I have often heard sermons preached on this text from John’s Gospel as an elaboration of our call to evangelism. The usual interpretation says that if we are truly united with Christ, we will bear fruit and see the harvest of our work (which is so often translated as church growth).

However, if we utilize an incarnation of love interpretive framework, the thing we are abiding within isn’t a literal vine, but the love of Christ. Those who abide in Christ’s love, abide in Christ. For Christ is the vine, and we are the branches. The fruit we bear isn’t more butts in the church pews, but more love in the world. If any Christian is not loving, they are like a branch that is thrown away and withers.

Of course, all of this begs the question of how one might interpret the very task of evangelism through the lens of an incarnation of love. I find myself curious about how one might preach the call to evangelism through such a hermeneutical lens. Many people, especially in the younger generations, are tired of having religion and a “holy-than-thou” sharing of the “good news” shoved down their throat. Too often, the modern church has done more harm than good in our evangelical pursuit of sharing what is supposed to be good news to those in the margins of society.

I have heard it said that sometimes the best evangelism strategy is to tell people that you are a Christian and then not be jerk. These particular lectionary readings seem to suggest an even better evangelistic strategy: love people. It really isn’t a new or even radical concept. Yet, it seems to be one of the most difficult things for us to do in our society. As our divisions seem to grow farther and farther apart with more and more violent rhetoric toward one another, it certainly seems that our love for one another is shrinking.

There is “good news” in these scriptures for this difficult task. The strength and power of love that we so desperately need in our society comes, not from us, but from Christ. For Christ reminds us, “I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart form me you can do nothing…If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you” (John 15: 5 & 7 NIV). We remain in a Savior that is the true incarnation of God’s love – not one that cuts off all the people we don’t like or that don’t act the way we desire. Christ is a Savior that prunes the hate of the world so that love will blossom and grow. This is the incarnation of love.

[1] Devadhar, Sudarshana. “May 2, 2021-Fifth Sunday of Easter.” The Abingdon Preaching Annual 2021. Ed. Tanya Linn Bennett. Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2020. 67.

The Rev. David Clifford is the senior minister of First Christian Church in Henderson, Kentucky. A graduate of Transylvania University in Lexington, Kentucky and Christian Theological Seminary in Indianapolis, Indiana, David is ordained in the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ). He has served churches in Indiana, Texas, and Kentucky. He currently lives in Henderson with his wife and three children, rides his bicycle, enjoys reading, coaches a local archery team, and enjoys learning about the history of such a wonderful town.

4th Sunday of Easter(B): What is Truth?

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By: Casey Cross

“What is truth?” is an innately human question. Do the birds twitter about it flying from tree to tree? Do the sea otters muse over it while cracking open mussels and floating under a wide open sky? I have a hard time believing my dog spends much time pondering it. I imagine that if she were to ask this question, her answer would be as quick to come as the question – Truth is as she lives. Sleep, walk, sniff, eat, play, snuggle, snooze, repeat. This is truth. But this kind of answer is not enough for humans. Particularly now, in the season of Easter. The question, “What is truth?” runs wild in our imaginations as we consider Jesus’ resurrection. Did Jesus really die and then, three days later rise to walk and eat and meet with his disciples? How? How do we know what is true? We want to believe, but we need to know what is true first. The first letter of John (1 John) speaks to this question. Scholars agree that this letter was heavily influenced by the Gospel of John. Knowing this makes it that much more interesting when I remember Jesus’ conversation with Pilate before his execution, which ends with Pilate asking the same question, “What is truth?” The answer to this eternal question resides in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus the Christ.

The writing found in 1 John serves as a testimony, a witness, to the truth found in Jesus and inexorably bound to the ways we live out our love for one another. Truth, the writer of 1 John posits, is not an idea to consider, but a response to be lived. We know how to live because we know Jesus. As we follow the way of Jesus, believing Jesus, not just a comfortable proof, we respond with our very lives. The purpose of this truth is not about being right or confirming our biases. The purpose of this truth made manifest in Jesus stirs us to action with and for each other. As we live this love for others, we are emboldened by the truth of Christ. The two go together. We must love one another to know the truth. We must know the truth as expressed in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus to actively love one another.

Depending on the day, one of these aspects may be more challenging than the other. Some days, the question of what is truth keeps me from knowing Jesus. Maybe Jesus was a real, historical figure, but Jesus the Christ is more a figure of speech; a representation of something we can attempt to aspire but really just an ideal. Other days, loving one another is the greater challenge. The excuses pour out – We all know we live in a divided country. It’s not my fault these people have chosen lies and conspiracy theories to feel safe. I could love them more if they weren’t so stubborn, or were more like me, or had a better sense of humor, or tried a little harder to get out of that situation, they need to at least meet me half way, etc. etc. This is where verse 18 can sting. We are reminded to love one another in truth and action. We can’t just think about it. We need to show up with our full selves. We need to physically act in ways of love.

1 John 3: 17 sets the scene, “How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?” We squelch the truth of God’s love every time we let the fear of scarcity set the terms of how and when we help others. We squelch the truth of God’s love when we let terms and conditions determine who deserves our consideration.

We seek after truth, but shy away when its double-edge points toward us. And so, truth also means knowing when we have missed the mark. It means admitting when we have relied on our understanding more than the truth lived by Jesus. It means repenting and changing our ways. Loving one another in truth and action means we may need to sit through uncomfortable conversations. We may also need to speak up and create new boundaries with people who have abused our empathy and time. Loving one another does not mean we must serve as someone’s whipping boy. Loving one another also does not mean liking everyone or being everyone’s friend. Loving one another liberates us for autonomy and freedom. We are reborn in the empty tomb and revolutionized by the resurrection of Christ.

So, “What is truth?” Perhaps the answer my dog would give is, in fact, the answer we find in 1 John. Truth is as we live. Let us live as believers in Jesus and let us love one another in truth and action. As we live in these ways, we abide in the truth that surpasses all understanding. We are freed to love with every fiber of our being, with bold action, and compassionate care.

Casey Cross serves as the Young Disciples Director at Hope Lutheran Church in Eagle, Idaho. She, her husband, and Lola love to take lots of walks and eat delicious food together. Cuddles are always appreciated. You can find more of Casey’s work at https://caseykcross.com/

3rd Sunday of Easter(B): Living Scripture

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By: The Rev. Charles Lane Cowen

Prior to ordination, I spent over a decade as a professional theatre artist. I worked as an actor, director, puppet builder/puppeteer, and improviser along with many other roles. Because my work was so varied, when people asked me what I specialized in, I simply said, “I’m a storyteller.”

When I think back over my life, I realize that my vocation as storyteller began at a very young age when my parents and grandparents told me stories. Our favorite genres were family history and stories of the Bible. I can remember loading all the stuffed animals into the top bunk of our bunk beds and screaming in terror as I imagined the room filling with water. I was Noah, chosen by God to save the animals. Every time we went to the fancy grocery store with the automatic glass doors that parted in the center, I would run ahead of my family, spread my arms wide, and shout, “Let my people go!”

As embarrassing as I’m sure these antics were to my family, they solidified the biblical narratives not only in my imagination, but in my very body. To this day, when I hear of Moses leading the people across the Red Sea or Elijah and Elisha parting the Jordan, I can feel the energy in my arms and imagine the wind roaring through my hair. My internalization of the biblical stories lives in my muscles and nose and ears and mouth.

Jesus, through his incarnational presence of God made flesh, not only brings God intimately into the world, but Jesus puts flesh and bone onto the promises of the Law and the Prophets. In today’s post-resurrection reading from Luke, Jesus says, “Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have” (Lk 24:39 NRSV). It is vital for Jesus that his disciples know that this is not spirit only, but God made flesh resurrected in spirit AND body. Jesus goes on to say, “’These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you—that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.’ Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures” (24:44 – 45). All of Holy Scripture points toward the promise of Jesus and his reality that dwells here and now in our physical world and bridges the gap between God and humanity.

If Jesus establishes a physical reality and relationship between the Hebrew Bible and the Gospels, it follows that this physical reality continues through all Christian witness from the Christian Scriptures, through the history of Christianity, and into our present reality. We who have been baptized into Christ’s death and resurrection live an incarnational continuation of this story until our own ascension with Christ.

This incarnational understanding of Holy Scripture certainly informs today’s Gospel reading, and I would argue that it should inform all readings of the Bible. Drawing on my own experiences as a theatre artist and techniques I learned from David Rhoads, Joanna Dewey, and Donald Michie in their book, Mark as Story,[1] I often begin the study of any pericope by writing out the characters and the setting. When I begin thinking about these stories in a realized, incarnational way, I often glean new information that not only informs my preaching/teaching but allows me to experience and internalize the Bible in an intimate way.

Let’s explore this method using today’s first lesson from Acts. This pericope has a deeply rooted and horrific history of interpretation that allows Christians to blame Jews for the death of Jesus. This kind of hatred has led to senseless, cruel, and theologically unsound violence against Jews in movements such as the Inquisition and the Holocaust. Preachers/teachers today have an ethical responsibility to condemn such an interpretation, and I believe this method of narrative analysis helps us do that.

For example, in the Acts lesson appointed for today, I began with a list of characters. Immediately visible are Peter, John, and the people Peter calls “the Israelites.” Looking more closely, I also realized that the newly healed beggar born lame is present. If we read back, we see that many of these Israelites are the faithful Jews who daily carried this man to the Beautiful Gate of the temple in order to help him in his alms collecting. Some of those gathered had deep pity for the man. Others may have seen him as an annoyance. Imagine our own thoughts, reactions, and emotions when we see people begging outside our own churches. Either way, there is deep relationship between the man healed and the crowd Peter is addressing.

Furthermore, Peter names another vital character in this scene: “The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, the God of our ancestors” (Acts 3:13). God not only acts within this story, but the nature of God—which God; whose God—becomes known in this familial description.

Turning from characters to setting, we see that the crowd is in the Portico of Solomon in the Court of the Gentiles at the temple. We learn in the preceding pericope that “Peter and John were going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, at three o’clock in the afternoon” (3:1). The setting for the narrative, then, is one of pious Jews going into the temple for prayer, and they are stopped at the liminal space right before entering a holier part of the temple set aside for Jews.

Synthesizing this analysis, we see that we have an entirely Jewish cast in a Jewish setting. As theologian Willie James Jennings remarks, “Peter speaks to his people. This is an in-house conversation. We have lost the sense and struggle of this family argument.”[2] Utilizing the actor’s tool of imagining how something must feel as we draw upon our own experiences, most of us know what it’s like to be in a family feud. Most of us know what it’s like to be in a church argument. Anyone who has served on a vestry/church council/leadership board, has certainly experienced or can imagine the awkwardness and sometimes pain of disagreement and the effects those have on the community. Likewise, we can imagine the healing that comes from acknowledging our histories and turning toward our communal, life-giving goals.

As you prepare to preach this or any text, I invite you into an imaginative process that brings the text to life. For me, I have the most fun when I do this with others. It may feel silly, but gather a group of adults, make costumes from things lying around the office, and act this scene out. Through imagination, empathy, and incarnational living of the Scriptures, you may find that their meaning becomes deeper, and they will become part of your physical reality as a baptized member of Christ’s own body.

[1] David Rhoads, Joanna Dewey, and Donald Michie, Mark as Story: An Introduction to the Narrative of a Gospel, 2^nd ed. (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1999).

[2]Willie James Jennings, Acts, Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2017), 43.

The Rev. Charles Lane Cowen serves as Associate Rector of Trinity Episcopal Parish (Trinity and Old Swedes) in Wilmington, Delaware, working alongside English and Spanish speaking congregations. He holds an M.Div. from Seminary of the Southwest, where his theatre background particularly informed his study of liturgy and biblical hermeneutics. During the pandemic, he has channeled his energies into learning to crochet, cooking new foods, and binge-watching shows that have convinced him that English clergy do very little parish ministry and lots of crime solving.

2nd Sunday of Easter(B): Believing in Your People

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By: The Rev. Andrew Chappell

“Do you believe because you see me? Happy (blessed) are those who don’t see and yet believe” (John 20:29 CEB). These are Jesus’ words, and they round out a story that historically resulted in the term “doubting Thomas”—not to mention a lot of guilt for some growing up in hard-nosed Christian homes.

The story itself is covered in peace. Jesus appears on Easter evening to his disciples and speaks “peace” and “forgiveness.” Of course, Thomas isn’t there. The disciples tell Thomas upon his return that they have seen Jesus. But unless he sees the wounds of Jesus, he will not believe them. Eight days pass and the disciples are in the same spot. Jesus appears and utters “peace” and then looks at Thomas. Jesus shows Thomas the wounds and says, “Believe!” And Thomas believes.

But is the idea that Thomas’ belief is based on sight a negative thing? After all, the other disciples saw Jesus too and they believed. Why does Thomas get the short end of the stick just because he missed the first party? Every character in this chapter sees Jesus and believes. And then along comes Thomas, who desires the same thing, and Jesus makes an example out of him!

I think there’s more to this story than just a simple narrative with a moral. In order to better understand, we need to look at the language. The word used for “happy”or “blessed” is from the Greek word makarios, which is also the word used in the beatitudes. Indeed, this word means “happy, blessed, to be envied,” but a more extensive meaning can be shown as the following: describing someone in a position to be envied.

“Do you believe because you see me? Blessed (and to be envied) are those who don’t see and yet believe.”

Scholars believe that of the four gospels, John was likely written last. And like many of the other writings that make up the Bible, this gospel was written to a specific community. The community of John was likely made up of folks that were second (even third) generation Christians. They didn’t have the experiences of the first generation. They didn’t know Paul or many of the other disciples. They had never met Jesus. All they had to go on were stories.

Thus, it would make sense that this story would (only) find its way into the latest gospel. To a community who struggled with having not seen Jesus and the time of the first generation, the author of John sends an encouraging word. “You think the disciples were blessed because they saw? They aren’t to be envied. YOU are. After all, you have not seen and yet you still believe.”

Some of the best leaders I’ve known have encouraged people with what I call “statements of wish.” They’re not necessarily statements of fact, but rather a statement painting a desire for the future, a wish. One of my favorite pastors moved to a new church where the congregation had been through it. They’d had some rough times. And she began saying in every worship service benediction, “You are beloved children of God.” Over time, that constant reminder began to make its way into my heart and the hearts of others. I began to really believe that I was beloved, that before anything else, I am loved by God. This statement of wish took hold!

I believe this is what the author of John is doing for his community; a community struggling with not having been a part of the wave of the first generation. He is sharing a statement of wish. “You are not cursed. You are actually blessed. You are to be envied. Because you have not seen and yet you believe!” And perhaps over time, the reading and rereading of this passage reminded the audience that they were indeed blessed. Perhaps they came to really know that they were blessed.

Statements of wish are important in leadership, in parenting, in mentoring, in counseling. They help us to lead from a place of hope and care. What statements of wish have you spoken over someone lately?

Sources for language: https://biblehub.com/greek/3107.htm

The Rev. Andrew Chappell serves as the Associate Pastor of Newnan First United Methodist Church in Newnan, Georgia. Andrew has an M. Div from Candler School of Theology and has been in ministry for over 10 years. He is engaged to Adair, enjoys Star Wars, and hopes to one day take his mandolin-playing skills up to the next level.

Easter Day(B): Tell the Story

Click Here for the Lectionary Texts

By: The Rev. Anna Tew

“I was thinking, over-thinking

‘Cause there’s just too many scenarios

To analyze, look in my eyes

‘Cause you’re my dream please come true.”

Like many folks my age who grew up in evangelical culture, I came of age listening to songs by a Christian band called Relient K. This song was on an album appropriately titled Two Lefts Don’t Make a Right, but Three Do.

I was thinking — over-thinking.

It’s a problem every Easter for preachers everywhere: we sit down to write our Easter sermons and sit there staring at the blinking cursor on the blank document, flipping back and forth between social media sites and our text messages and preaching commentary and, for some reason, a live feed of a baby panda. It seems to get worse, not better, every year, as we try to preach something better than our Easter sermon from last year, or at least try very hard not to preach basically the same one.

The advice that has carried me forward for Easter after Easter has been Dr. Gail R. O’Day’s advice in her lectionary preaching class at the Candler School of Theology to “just tell the story they came to hear.” But even then, I find it a bit hard to just tell the same story, as good as it is, from year to year. Jesus died. The women came to the tomb. The tomb was empty. And there was much rejoicing.

Every now and then, however, the world gives you a gift in preaching that at first looks like a horrid curse. You know, the kind where you can tell the story and then just gesture to the world.

Listen, Preacher. Don’t overthink this one.

The story today is about new life, and new hope, when we thought all was lost. We, and our people, have stood at too many graves this year, have seen too much death, have experienced too much loneliness as our very homes have become like tombs in quarantine. Then three vaccines were developed in record time and things are finally beginning to look up. No, things haven’t been perfect. Not by a long shot. But resurrection is rarely simple, is it?

It has taken me ten Easters of preaching to realize that what Dr. O’Day meant by “just tell the story they came to hear” includes but also reaches beyond telling the story told in the biblical text. It is also about telling the stories of resurrection that you find all around you: from creation coming back to life in springtime, to the United States finally crawling out of the pandemic, to the signs of new life that you see in your own community. Given the year that we have all had, people need these reminders.

Søren Kierkegaard wrote, “People have an idea that the preacher is an actor on a stage and they are the critics.… What they don’t know is that they are the actors on the stage; the preacher is merely the prompter standing in the wings, reminding them of their lost lines.”

In this moment, preacher, do not attempt to be the actor, the performer who puts on a good show. Instead, be the prompter standing in the wings. Remind your people of what in your community, in your church, in your world is coming back to life when you thought that all was lost. Acknowledge the death and the pain and point them towards the new life already at work around them.

They will forget your hot take on the resurrection by next week. They’ll forget your hilarious illustration in a month. They will forget your biblical analysis by the time they have lunch. What they will remember is how you helped them see their lives, and their stories, through the story of Jesus, and how that gave them hope in hard times.

Don’t overthink this one.

Take them to the empty tombs found all around your town. Take them to the empty tombs in their lives. Hell, take them to the more than half a million tombs that are still full from covid-19 and declare beyond any reason other than Jesus that there is still hope for tomorrow, that in Christ even this shall someday be made right.

Whether you gather in person or online, the story of the empty tomb in Palestine is the one they will come to hear. The story of the new life springing up all around them is the one they need to hear, and I’m betting that it’s the one that you need to hear, too. If hope and resurrection and new life are indeed a reality in our lives today when we thought the world was ending a year ago — don’t overthink this one.

Go get ‘em, preacher.

**The Rev. Anna Tew** is a 30-something Lutheran pastor serving Our Savior’s Lutheran Church (ELCA) in South Hadley, Massachusetts. A product of several places, she was born and grew up in rural Alabama, thinks of Atlanta as home, and lives in and adores New England. In her spare time, Anna enjoys climbing the nearby mountains, traveling, exploring cities and nightlife, and keeping up with politics and pop culture.

7th Sunday of Easter (A): Casting Our Anxieties Upon God

7th Sunday of Easter (A): Casting Our Anxieties Upon God

1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11

By: The Rev. Steve Pankey

As I write this post, it has been five-and-a-half weeks since our last in-person worship service. Based on our Bishop’s Pastoral Directive, it’ll be at least another six weeks before we can gather again. Based on my gut and what I’m reading, it’ll probably be even longer. As I look ahead to what will be the 7^th Sunday of Easter, and the 11^th Sunday of Quarantine, I really wish that 1^st Peter hadn’t made it into the Biblical canon. Quite frankly, the author’s response to suffering and the question of theodicy is pretty weak, and borders on patronizing, especially if we attribute the text to the first Bishop of Rome.

As I write this post, thousands of people are dying everyday of a virus that has no known cure and no vaccine, millions are unemployed and fear losing their health insurance, and stimulus packages of all shapes and sizes are bogged down by governmental ineptitude. Hearing words like “don’t be surprised,” “it’s a test,” or “rejoice as you are sharing in Christ’s suffering,” feel like they fall short, and are the kinds of things that make us cringe when we hear them said at funerals. They are the words that people say when they don’t know what else to say. They might make the speaker feel better, but they ring hollow and can sting deeply those who are suffering under fear, stress, or grief.

In my experience as a parish priest, I’ve found that certain lessons can do more harm than good when they are read and not preached. It is why my congregations have always run with Track 2 in the Hebrew Bible during the season after Pentecost; the lessons just seem to “fit in” better. 1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11 begs to be preached in the ongoing stress of a global pandemic, if only to keep our members hearing the Bible reiterate dangerous theology like, “God won’t give you more than you can handle,” or “everything happens for a reason.”

Arguing that we should preach on a text is fine, but I think Modern Metanoia is better used as a resource for suggestions on how you might preach a text. For that, I think we have to skip past the platitudes of the first paragraph and focus more on the second. The author moves the attention away from scrambling to explain what they think God is doing in our suffering and toward what our proper response to that suffering should be. “Humble yourselves under the hand of God… Cast all your anxiety on [God], because [God] cares for you. Discipline yourselves, keep alert.”

I’ve not been great at the discipline piece, if I’m honest. I’m sleeping too little and snacking too much, but where I do find strength in this time of stress and anxiety is when I, in full confidence of God’s care for me, cast all my anxiety upon God. The Greek word, translated as “cast upon,” is a compound word that appears only twice in the New Testament. Its other usage comes in Luke’s gospel, when on Palm Sunday, the disciples cast their garments upon the colt that Jesus rode into Jerusalem. For me, the image of casting conjures up memories of my friend Will, standing knee deep in Big Lagoon just off NAS Pensacola, casting a net for bait fish. A combination of beautiful ballet and a haphazard toss is required to get the weights to spin out properly and to keep the net from becoming a tangled-up mess.

A similar mix of intentionality and chaos are required when it comes to casting all our anxieties upon God. Intentionality is required because honesty is necessary. Until and unless we can admit our anxieties, our fears, our inability to do it alone, we cannot even begin to find the healing, restoration, and strength that we are promised by God. Once we dig deep and begin to mine for that anxiety, if we really want to cast all our cares on God, then the haphazard nature of it begins. Digging deep, we fling all our fears—like sand at the bottom of a deep hole—tossing them all, even the stuff we’d rather hide and hold onto, so that God can offer full relief. Even so, as practitioners of pastoral care, we know that the process of casting our anxiety upon God is never finished. Like Will’s net in Big Lagoon, once we toss it, we’ve got to reset and cast again. It is a process that never ends. As we cast our anxieties on God again and again, we become more and more sure of the truth that God really does care for us, even when it feels like all hell has broken loose all around us.

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 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 personal lectionary blog, draughtingtheology.wordpress.com.

6th Sunday of Easter(A): Experiencing the “Unknown God”

Experiencing the “Unknown God”

Acts 17:22-31

By: The Rev. Dr. Daniel London

In my tradition, we pray a prayer at the beginning of Sunday worship called a Collect (COLL-ect), which gathers together (“collects”) our thoughts and prayers and sets the theme for the day. The Collect assigned for this Sunday describes a God whose goodness is beyond our understanding and whose promises can be obtained through love.[i] This idea of experiencing the incomprehensible God through love rather than knowledge is expressed in a Christian tradition known as apophatic theology, which insists that God can never be truly known through human intellect. The apophatic tradition reminds us that all our thoughts, images, and ideas about God are just that: about God, not actually God. In fact, our attachment to ideas about God can easily become idolatry. Surprisingly, this rich tradition of apophatic theology has roots in Paul’s address to the Areopagites in Acts 17.

As Paul waits for his missionary partners in Athens, he notices how crowded the city is with idols and discovers one altar dedicated to an “unknown God.” Because Paul is a gifted evangelist, he knows that all cultures have within them seeds of the Gospel that need to be affirmed, watered, and grown.[ii] So Paul starts preaching and telling people that this “unknown God” is really the God who has made himself fully manifest and accessible in Christ.[iii] Eventually, Paul is brought to the court of Areopagus, where he essentially says, “You Athenians have an altar to an unknown God and I’m here to tell you that this God has been made known in the Risen Christ, through whom we can tap into the divine source of being and participate in resurrection ourselves.”[iv]

The lectionary unfortunately leaves out the Athenians’ response, which is mixed: some scoff, some want to hear more, and two listeners become convinced that Paul is speaking truth: a woman named Damaris and a man named Dionysius (17:32-33). Although Dionysius doesn’t show up anywhere else in the Bible, church historian Eusebius claims he became the first bishop of Athens.[v] But more importantly, Dionysius evolved in the Christian imagination as the great spiritual icon for experiencing the God who is beyond all human understanding. In the fifth century AD, a Syrian monk used this biblical character’s name as a pseudonym in writing books about accessing the God beyond all knowing. The author chose this pseudonym because he imagined that Dionysius had been deeply persuaded by Paul’s teachings about the “unknown God,” a phrase that inspired the author to formulate the foundations of apophatic theology. Today, this Syrian author is referred to as “Pseudo-Dionysius” and is considered one of the most significant theologians of church history. Most theologians since the 5^th century have been influenced in one way or another by Pseudo-Dionysius, who is also referred to as “Psuedo-Denys,” or, as I prefer, “Denys the Menace” (because he laced his apophatic theology with a not-so-healthy dose of Neo-Platonism).

One theologian who is particularly indebted to Pseudo-Denys is an anonymous English author who wrote a text called The Cloud of Unknowing in 14^th century Nottingham, the old stomping grounds of Robin Hood. Although the apophatic tradition does not conflate images with the divine, the Cloud author uses images to describe the human relationship with God. He explains that between ourselves and God, there is “a cloud of unknowing,” which we cannot penetrate with our thoughts, but which we can penetrate through humble love. The Cloud author invites us to “shoot humble impulses of love” like arrows through this cloud. He offers a practical way to do this which has come to be known as “Centering Prayer.” This prayer practice involves using a sacred word like “God” or “love” or “Christ” to help quiet the mind and to detach ourselves from our thoughts. This sacred word is meant to be repeated as a kind of mantra, an anchor in the stream of consciousness. Whenever we find ourselves getting carried away by our thoughts, we return to the sacred word. By returning to the sacred word, we return to our love for God, through which we can pierce through the cloud.

I have personally found this prayer practice to be deeply beneficial and transformative as it helps me develop a healthy detachment from my thoughts. This healthy detachment has all kinds of secondary benefits: decreased anxiety, lower blood pressure, and deeper sleep. However, the primary benefit I receive as I let go of my thoughts and try to be present to God through love is a direct experience of God as my very being. The Cloud author says, “God is your being…and God exists in all things, as their cause and their being.”[vi] In Acts 17, Paul says something very similar when he preaches, “In him we live and move and have our being” (17:28). Paul and the Cloud author invite us to experience the “unknown God” by being present to the simple reality of our existence because it is by being present to our existence that we are actually being present to God. Richard Rohr paraphrases the Cloud author when he says, “Offer up your simple naked being to the joyful being of God…Don’t focus on what you are, but simply that you are!”[vii]

Although it is unlikely that Paul would have ever identified as an apophatic theologian, his prophetic words to the Areopagus provided the soil out of which apophatic theology could emerge and grow. From that soil, we have inherited the wisdom of Pseudo-Denys and the contemplative prayer practice of the Cloud author, both of which invite us to directly experience the God whose goodness is beyond our understanding and whose promises can be obtained through love. By accepting this invitation, we can come to experience the “unknown God” as the One in whom we live and move and have our being; and indeed, as the One who is our being.

The Rev. Dr. Daniel London

The Rev. Dr. Daniel London is the Rector of Christ Episcopal Church in Eureka California and author of Theodicy and Spirituality in the Fourth Gospel (Fortress Academic). He enjoys exploring the pristine beaches, gentle rivers, and stunning redwoods of Humboldt County with his wife Dr. Ashley London Bacchi. He tries to practice Centering Prayer, but admits that he often sips coffee during contemplation.

[i] “O God, you have prepared for those who love you such good things as surpass our understanding: Pour into our hearts such love towards you, that we, loving you in all things and above all things, may obtain your promises, which exceed all that we can desire; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.” The Book of Common Prayer (New York: Seabury Press, 1979), 225.

[ii] Christian Missiologists sometimes refer to these “seeds of the Gospel” as logoi spermatikoi. See Justin Martyr, St. Justin Martyr: The First and Second Apologies (New York: Paulist Press, 1997), 23 – 72.

[iii] Even though the fullness of God is indeed revealed in Christ in bodily form (Colossians 2:9), the apophatic tradition insists that our human and finite vision is certainly not wide enough to comprehend the infinite and ineffable God.

[iv] My paraphrase of Acts 17:22-31.

[v] Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History, translated by Kirsopp Lake. LCL 153 (Cambridge MA: Harvard, 1998), Book III.iv, 197.

[vi] Author of The Cloud of Unknowing, The Book of Privy Counseling, translated by William Johnston (New York: Doubleday, 1996), 139.

[vii] Richard Rohr, The Universal Christ: How a Forgotten Reality Can Change Everything We See, Hope For, and Believe (New York: Convergent, 2019), 224.

Easter 5(A): Rebuilding Identity in Christ

Easter 5(A): Rebuilding Identity in Christ

1 Peter 2:2-10

By: The Rev. Kim Jenne

David Kessler is an expert on grief. He co-wrote with Elisabeth Kübler-Ross On Grief and Grieving: Finding the Meaning of Grief through the Five Stages of Loss. His latest book adds another stage to the process, Finding Meaning: The Sixth Stage of Grief (published November 2019). In a Harvard Business Review interview in March, he commented that he believes “we will continue to find meaning now and when this [the coronavirus pandemic] is over.”[1]

Most of us have not arrived at the meaning stage. As I write this, I am not sure what state the world will be in by the time the fifth Sunday of Easter arrives. I do know that this Easter season will be like no other we have experienced in modernity. For that reason, you might consider nixing the “do not be troubled” opening line of John’s Gospel and instead pick up 1 Peter for your sermon inspiration.

Peter’s first letter is a good comfort for the distressed. We are suffering on a global scale. The grief, disappointment and hurt is palpable. I have participated in dozens of video calls where, at some point, someone on the call begins to cry. Physical distancing, self-isolation and other coronavirus-induced limitations on life should not be viewed as a trivial form of suffering. N.T. Wright explains: “There is a reason we normally try to meet in the flesh. There is a reason solitary confinement is such a severe punishment…. We can’t tick off the days. This is a stillness, not of rest, but of poised, anxious sorrow.”[2]

This “poised, anxious sorrow” is the perfect reason to pick up Peter’s letter during the season of Easter. As the epistle serves to strengthen Christians in times of distress, it also sets their lives within the history of God’s activity and offers meaning for our experiences of sorrow, distress, and suffering.

Don’t be tempted to use your precious exhortation time unpacking the historical debates around the letter’s authorship. Save that for the clergy lectionary study or the Wednesday night Bible study where you can share the broader context. Rather, I suggest we consider it a piece of early Christian correspondence included among those New Testament writings that Martin Luther remarked, “show thee Christ.”

Peter’s first letter is addressed to a group of early churches that are alienated from the surrounding society, offering them comfort which is why it continues to offer us wisdom today. Particularly, this epistle reminds believers what it means to live out the sacraments as individuals and as a community. From 1 Peter, churches may discover clues to faithful living even while restricted in their public gatherings.

Peter reminds the churches that the Christian life, while not separate from the world beyond our doors, offers more, much more. Amazing promises are made to those who give their life to this new world by placing one’s full confidence in Jesus. As Peter writes to the church, those who love and trust Jesus will “rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy.” (1 Peter 1:8)

The author calls his readers to spend their time, despite their distress, renewing their identity in Christ. As we learn to live into a new normal, one of the ways we might make meaning during our suffering, is to spend the Easter season renewing our identity in Christ.

No amount of special facilities, programs, talents, digital platforms and “relevant” messages are required to experience this type of renewal. Don’t tell the finance committee, but it doesn’t even require a line item in the budget! What it does require is faithfulness to the process of becoming more Christlike. Wise preachers, even those weary from intensive on-the-job training as digital pastors, might heed this opportunity to strip away non-essentials and invite disciples into an intensive re-building project. Peter’s message reminds disciples that Christians and non-Christians don’t see different things, but that we see the same things differently. The disciple will make Jesus their bedrock while, for non-Christians, Jesus is an inconvenience, a rock to be tossed out of the way. This Easter season, as we await the remembrance of the Pentecost and invite the Holy Spirit to inspire us anew, believers have an opportunity to take seriously that having been born through water and the Spirit, they may live as faithful disciples of Jesus Christ.

The epistolary lection is meant to offer affirmation and comfort for those chosen to be a holy people. By using images and phrases from the Old Testament, the epistle simply substitutes the language of Israel for the church. This catena of images previously reserved for Israel seeks to reinterpret the Old Testament for the expanding Christian community in Asia Minor. Any commentary worth their salt can offer an extensive review of the Old Testament allusions in this passage of the letter. If you are preaching this text in 2020, there is a great opportunity to remind the people of who they are and what that means for their daily lives as God’s holy people. If your congregation continues to shelter-in-place or practice physical distancing, providing specific ideas on how to shape their days while at home could serve as the bulk of your message.

One such practice might be in meal sharing since the passage offers a strong food metaphor. Suggesting that community members plan for a special meal – one that takes time and love to prepare – alongside a special prayer. You could write a special, short liturgy for members to offer before their meal or suggest the Moravian-inspired Love Feast. Through the meal, remind believers that we have tasted and seen that the Lord is sweet.[3] The Lord is Christ and Jesus is to be the basis of their growth – they have tasted of him through the Word and through the Sacrament and now they can grow up in him. Because of this, they have chosen to see things as Christ sees them, not as the world sees. Through these new eyes, they can lay the cornerstone of their spiritual house and participate in re-affirming and in the case of many, re-building their identity in Christ.

[1] Scott Berinato, “That Discomfort You’re Feeling Is Grief.” Harvard Business Review. 23 March 2020. https://hbr.org/2020/03/that-discomfort-youre-feeling-is-grief. Accessed 2 April 2020.

[2] N.T. Wright, “Christianity Offers No Answers About the Coronavirus. It’s Not Supposed To.” Time. 29 March 2020. https://time.com/5808495/coronavirus-christianity/. Accessed 4 April 2020.

[3] I prefer Luke Timothy Johnson’s preferred translation of chrēstos as sweet: “Taste and see because the Lord is sweet.” Luke Timothy Johnson, The Writings of the New Testament: An Interpretation. Third Edition. Fortress Press: Minneapolis (2010), 430.

The Rev. Kim Jenne is the Director of Connectional Ministries for the Missouri Annual Conference. The Office of Connectional Ministries is responsible for Boundaries, Communications, Conferencing, Discipleship Ministries, Safe Sanctuaries, and Leadership Development through the Nominations Committee. Before her current appointment, Kim served as senior pastor of Webster Hills UMC 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 and is slowly learning to keep company with God on a more regular basis.