Love One Another

by the Rev. Dr. John D. Lane

This sermon is based on John 13:34-35. Click here to listen to an audio version of this sermon.

[Jesus said,] “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

The former rector of a parish that Bizzy and I attend in New Hampshire had a standard opening for virtually every sermon: “Boy, can you believe those lessons this morning? Weird stuff.” She would then ignore the scripture for the day and launch into something totally unrelated. Occasionally the lessons are difficult to understand and even more difficult to preach, but I did get tired of her opening every sermon this way.

For me today is the opposite. The lessons are rich, and to me they seem to be related to one another. I feel lucky to deal with them. I will attempt not to do what a US Army chaplain used to tell me, “Pick a text from the Bible ... and depart from it.”

I detect two themes and there are probably more: (1) Love one another; and (2) God is everywhere, in everyone and in everything. As Carl Jung put it, “Bidden or not, God is present.” I’ll be bold enough to suggest that love and God’s presence are interconnected.

We learn in the lesson from Acts about Peter’s vision in the city of Joppa. He sees a sheet lowered that contains all kinds of unclean, non-Kosher food: “I saw four-footed animals, beasts of prey, reptiles, and birds of the air.  I also heard a voice saying to me, 'Get up, Peter; kill and eat.’ But I replied, ‘By no means, Lord; for nothing profane or unclean has ever entered my mouth.’ But a second time the voice answered from heaven, ‘What God has made clean, you must not call profane.’”

At about the same time, some men arrive from Caesarea and insist that Peter go with them. His vision, along with his experience among the believing Gentiles whom he then meets, persuades him that salvation is open to everyone. God loves each of us. The commandment to us as Christians is to love one another. Jesus makes it clear time after time that this means without exception.

So there are no outsiders. According to Jesus whom we worship, the world and certainly the Christian world is not divided into the righteous and the unrighteous. That’s the theology of the Pharisees. Jesus’ main opponents are the Pharisees. Paul has been a Pharisee, but as we know he is struck to the ground and blinded, and turns his back forever on his former life.

Relationships that are difficult can move us into tolerance, evolve into acceptance, and end in genuine love. Probably more than any other country on earth the United States is a nation of immigrants. Even Native Americans came from Asia at some point. Immigration is something to celebrate. Much of our strength comes from this diversity. Many nations make immigration very difficult, if not impossible. France has immigrants from its former colonies, but such people often find acceptance difficult, and have trouble advancing in society, no matter what their talents.

Our differences have always been a challenge: newcomers versus old-timers, gender, sexual preferences, ethnicity, disability, and especially religion. Love one another.

Our youngest child Andrew was disabled, born with muscular dystrophy, dying at age 24. Those who didn’t know him may have thought him weird. He was confined to a wheelchair, which probably made some people uncomfortable. But he was known and accepted at church, at school, and in the neighborhood where he lived. His disease set him apart, but many people came to love him. We were blessed to be his parents. When we widen the circle to include everyone, we love one

I have a story, which has been around for a while; you may have heard it before. It’s about a disabled boy named Philip, born with Down syndrome, affecting his ability to learn and threatening his life expectancy. His disability does not, however, decrease his enthusiasm for life. Harry Pritchett, an Episcopal priest, knew him and told this story as part of an Easter sermon.

Philip moves to a new town when he is 8 years old and his parents take him to Sunday school where he joins the 3^rd grade class. He is clearly different from the other kids and he is a newcomer, two strikes against him. He has trouble being accepted as part of the group.

One beautiful Sunday during the Easter season, the teacher takes the kids outside and gives each of them a plastic pantyhose egg. “Find something that represents new life to you, and put it inside the egg.” Towards the end of the hour, he brings the kids inside and asks them to put their eggs on the table.

One by one, he opens the eggs, and the kids comment on the symbols of new life inside. He opens the first one, and a pretty flower drops out. The next one has a fresh blade of grass. Another kid has found a butterfly, which flies away when the teacher pops open the egg. Next comes a rock–there’s a least one rebel in every class.

And then he opens an egg with nothing inside. The kids say, “That’s stupid. Someone didn’t do it.” Then Philip tugs on the teacher’s sleeve. “I did too do it! The Tomb is empty!”

Suddenly, this is the best class this creative teacher has ever taught. The kids know that Philip is indeed different. Now they see that he is truly special. From this day forward, they begin to accept him.

The following winter Philip catches a cold which ges worse very quickly, and he dies the next day. Near the beginning of Philip’s funeral, nine boys march to the front of the church, and each one lays a plastic pantyhose egg on Philip’s casket.

The Tomb is empty.

Christ is Risen!

Listening for Jesus’ Voice

by the Rev. Dr. Paul S. Nancarrow

This sermon is based on John 10:22-30. Click here to listen to an audio version of this sermon.

Today is now the Fourth Sunday of the Easter season – a Sunday that is traditionally subtitled “Good Shepherd Sunday.” Today our scriptures and prayers and praises are focused on the image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd, the One who leads us through life – and who, by his Crucifixion and Resurrection, leads us through the grave and gate of death into eternal life.

We hear that theme in our psalm – “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want … Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”

We hear it in our reading from Revelation – “the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.”

And we hear it in our Gospel, when Jesus promises, “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand.”

Jesus, our Good Shepherd, promises to call us and to guide us, and he promises that we will be able to hear his voice. What we have to do is learn how to listen.

And that’s not always as easy as it seems. There are so many voices that call to us: voices that come from within ourselves, voices that come from outside ourselves; voices of fear, voices of anger, voices of violence, voices of terrorism; voices that lure us, voices that try to sell us things, voices that interrupt us and never seem to let us speak for ourselves; voices on the television, voices on the radio, voices on the internet, voices in our heads; voices of shame, voices of defensiveness, voices of despair, voices of greed. How do we learn to listen for the voice of Jesus when so many other voices clamor around us all the time?

Well, one of the ways we learn to listen for the voice of Jesus is right here, in worship, in the practice of this liturgy. In our Eucharist we believe that Christ is present with us, through the power of the Holy Spirit, so that Jesus himself speaks and acts in the words and actions of the Eucharist.

When the words of scripture are read out to us, that’s not just a kind of dramatic oral interpretation of an ancient text – that is the Word of God, living and true, sharper than any two-edged sword, addressing us, us, as we are, here and now. You know, that’s why we stand up for the reading of the Gospel in the Eucharistic service: we believe that when the Gospel is proclaimed in the context of the Eucharist, Jesus himself is speaking to us through those words – and so we stand up as a gesture of respect, and as a sign of being eager to be in the company of our Lord.

When the Eucharistic Prayer reminds us how Jesus was at supper with his disciples, how he took and blessed and broke and gave bread and wine to them as a sign of his presence, his very self – and then, in our Eucharist, when we do the very same thing, when we take and bless and break and give bread and wine in communion – we believe that Jesus himself is there in those actions, that his taking and blessing and breaking and giving and our taking and blessing and breaking and giving are made one and the same, so that he lives in us and we live in him, so that our service and worship and ministry is taken up and made part of Christ’s service and worship and ministry, so that we are made members of his Body, his hands and heart and voice to speak and love and serve the world he died and rose to save.

When the priest repeats Jesus’ words – “Take, eat: this is my Body”; “Drink this, all of you: this is my Blood” – then we believe Jesus himself is speaking to us, inviting us to be nourished with his spiritual food and drink.

We hear Jesus’ voice calling us, speaking to us, loving us, in the words and gestures and actions of this Eucharist.

And because we learn to hear Jesus’ voice speaking to us in this Eucharist, we can also learn to hear Jesus’ voice speaking to us in the rest of our lives, as well. Because this Eucharist teaches us to recognize Jesus’ voice and self and presence in the simplest of things – a simple reading of a text, a simple meal of bread and wine – this Eucharist also teaches us to recognize Jesus’ voice and presence in the other simple things of life.

It is here that we learn to hear Jesus’ voice speaking to us in the voices of those we love: a spouse, a child, a co-worker, a friend, a stranger, an enemy.

It is here that we learn to hear Jesus’ voice speaking to us in simple acts of kindness and daily works of generosity – the caring word spoken to a friend, the extra donation given to a charitable cause, the smile and friendly attitude given when everybody else all around seems to be busy and grumpy and isolated, the recognition and acknowledgment given to someone who is different from us, someone not part of our usual set, someone we might ordinarily treat as invisible.

It is here that we learn to hear Jesus' voice speaking to us in works of courageous service, like the people at the Boston Marathon photographed running toward the explosions, to see who they could help; like the officers and agents who went into Watertown on Friday and apprehended the suspect with no further loss of life.

It is here that we learn to hear Jesus’ voice speaking to us in the cry of the poor, the voice for the voiceless, the promise of liberation proclaimed to the oppressed, the keepers and advocates of the environment and the earth, the call to us to be effective instruments of God's justice and God's peace.

It is here, in this Eucharist, that we learn how to listen to Jesus’ voice speaking to us in all the thousand-and-one ordinary things of life, so that we can go forth from this Eucharist and we speak Jesus’ words of wisdom and compassion and love to the world that needs to hear them so very, very much.

Jesus, our Good Shepherd, promises that we will hear his voice, that we will hear his voice speaking to us in and with and through all the varied voices of this life. Let it be our prayer, let it be our joy, let it be our mission, to still ourselves and listen.

Amen.

Beholding Jesus in His Redeeming Work

by the Rev. Dr. Paul S. Nancarrow

This sermon is based on John 21:1-19, Acts 9:1-20, and Revelation 5:11-14. Click here to listen to an audio version of this sermon.

In our collect this morning, we pray that God will “open the eyes of our faith,” so that we may “behold Jesus in all his redeeming work.” And in our scripture readings this morning, we see Jesus revealed to people in an almost bewildering array of redeeming work. In these readings Jesus shows himself in very different appearances, but always with the same redeeming love.

Our Gospel this morning narrates what may be the last of the resurrection appearances of Jesus. Peter and James and John and Thomas and Nathanael and a couple of others have gone fishing. Now, they have seen the Risen Jesus; they have had the Holy Spirit breathed on them and have been told that they are to go out and forgive sins – but it seems they’re not quite sure how to actually do that, because here they’ve gone back to what they’re used to, here they’ve done kind of the ultimate “we’ve always done it that way” – they’ve gone fishing. But the old way doesn’t work anymore: they’ve fished all night and they’ve caught nothing, they’ve done what they’re used to, and they’ve come up empty. And in the morning they see a stranger on the shore, and this stranger knows they have no fish, this stranger knows they can’t simply go back to how everything used to be – and so the stranger tells them where to put the net to find the real catch, and calls them ashore to feed them, partly with what they’ve caught and partly with what is sheer gift. And when these disciples feel their lives restored, when they feel their empty work redeemed, they know that it is Jesus, then they behold it is Jesus in his redeeming work.

And after breakfast, Jesus takes Simon Peter aside and appears to him in a different way: not as a mysterious stranger on the shore with miraculous knowledge, but as his intimate friend and wise teacher.  Three times Jesus asks Peter “Do you love me?”; three times Peter answers “Yes Lord, you know I love you”; three times Peter makes the declaration he had failed to make in the courtyard of the high priest’s house on Maundy Thursday night. By asking Peter three times, Jesus gives Peter the opportunity to redeem his failure from before, to be set free from the burden of guilt that still holds him back, to be ready to go out and forgive sins in Jesus’ Name – because he knows now how much he himself has been forgiven – to be someone who really can tend Christ’s sheep. In this appearance as the loving friend, Jesus frees Peter for ministry, and Peter beholds Jesus in yet another way in his redeeming work.

In our Acts reading we see Jesus appearing in a very different way. Saul, breathing threats and murder against the church, is on his way to Damascus to arrest anyone he can find who believes in Jesus. But before he gets there Jesus arrests him: the Ascended Christ appears to Saul as a bright light and a loud voice and a sudden inner knowledge that he is “chosen to bring Jesus’ name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel.” In a single moment, Jesus catches up Paul’s vehemence and intensity and devotion and transforms it, redirects it, changes it from being a drive for persecution to a zeal of proclamation; in this encounter Jesus redeems Paul from being blinded by hate to seeing in the Spirit of Love. A bright light and a voice is a very different appearance from a stranger on the shore or an intimate friend – but in this appearance, too, Paul beholds Jesus in his redeeming work.

And finally, in our reading from Revelation, John the Seer beholds the Heavenly Jesus in a visionary and symbolic form: he sees Jesus as a Lamb, a Lamb that was slaughtered, a Lamb that was killed in sacrifice and is yet alive, a Lamb that stands before the throne of God and is in the midst of the throne with God. And in his vision John hears all Creation – the natural creation of animals and creatures in the air and on the earth and under the earth and the sea; but also the supernatural creation of angels and ancients and living essences, myriads of myriads and thousands of thousands – John hears all Creation singing the praises of the Lamb, because in his death and life the Lamb has redeemed for God saints from every tribe and language and people and nation, because the Lamb has broken the power of death and prepared the way for ultimate redemption in the union of heaven and earth. It is because John is given the vision of the redeeming work of Christ on this cosmic scale that he is able to face his own personal exile and persecution; it is because John is given the vision of the redeeming work of Christ on this cosmic scale that he is able to encourage his fellow believers to be faithful in their life-circumstances, too. The vision of a heavenly Lamb who was slaughtered and lives is very different from a light and a voice, or a stranger on the shore, or an intimate friend – but in this appearance, too, John beholds Jesus in his redeeming work.

Now what all three of these readings do together, is to show us the that Risen, Ascended, Heavenly Jesus makes himself known to us in all sorts of ways, through all kinds of appearances, in many different instances of his one redeeming work. The real, living Jesus shows himself present with us when sins are forgiven, when people are fed, when empty failure opens up to new possibilities for fullness, when blind hatred has scales fall from its eyes and receives the witness of love, when those who feel exiled from the good of life find hope and courage and faithfulness to go on. Though the appearances for us may be very different, we, too, can behold Jesus alive with us in his redeeming work.

So where will you behold Jesus, risen and ascended and redeeming, with you this week, this day, this hour?

Will you behold Jesus in our prayers this day, as we offer our intentions to God, and God takes up our energies and makes us instruments to accomplish Christ's mission?

Will you behold Jesus in this Eucharist, as he fills our emptiness with bread and wine and his living presence, and shows us how to reach down deep within us to bring forth a catch of creative work?

Will you behold Jesus in the faces of your friends, and the faces of strangers – and even in the faces of your enemies – will you behold Jesus giving you the opportunity to reach out in love that transcends your barriers and your limitations?

Will you behold Jesus when you leave this church today, when you go about all the ordinary tasks of life, all the things you wouldn't typically think of as "ministry," all the opportunities to show forth the new life that is given to us in Christ, the new life we can offer to others in Christ – will you behold Jesus in the redeeming work Jesus calls you to do?

In our collect this morning, we pray that God will “open the eyes of our faith,” so that we may “behold Jesus in all his redeeming work.” Look around you and behold Jesus here. Amen.

Be a Martyr

By the Rev. Deacon Jim Gilman

This sermon is based on Acts 5:27-32, Revelation 1:4-8, and John 20:19-31. Click here to listen to an audio version of the sermon. 

Introduction

I would like a show of hands in answer to this question: How many of you, as Christians, aspire to be a martyr? No fair trying to raise the hand of your spouse.

Curiously, the idea of “martyr” appears in all three of our New Testament lessons for today; as if to say to us as Christians: So you believe in the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus do you? Then, BE A MARTYR.

Do you know how the Greek word “martyr” is translated in English? As WITNESS. Look at our bible lessons for today; the word “martyr” is used in two of them. (1) The Acts passage says “And we (the Apostles) are witnesses to these things (to the suffering, death, and resurrection of Jesus) and so is the Holy Spirit.”  (2) In the Revelation passage, John says he received his revelation “from Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the first born of the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.” Even Jesus is a witness. (3) Our gospel passage does not use the word “martyr” or “witness”; but it tells a story in which all the disciples, including doubting Thomas, are witnesses to many signs of Jesus, including his wounds. So, Jesus and his disciples are portrayed as martyrs, as faithful witnesses to the fierce and magnificent events of Easter.

The Meaning of Witness

What did being a martyr mean to the earliest Christians? How did they view martyrdom?

Originally the word “martyr” was used in both secular and religious contexts. Its original meaning did not necessarily include the death of the witness. But it is also true that ancient writers (like the historian, Josephus) sometimes refer to some martyrs who die because of their testimonies. In the early Christian centuries, the idea of a “martyr” acquired the meaning we think of today: of a believer whose faithful witness results in persecution, suffering, and sometimes death. Many early Christians began to use the term “martyr” in this new sense; they saw Jesus as the first and greatest martyr, for obvious reasons. Our passage from John refers to “Jesus Christ, the faithful witness, the first born from the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.”  Early Christians came to view Jesus as a kind of archetypal martyr, a model witness.

So, if Jesus is the model witness and if Christians are to follow Jesus, then does following Jesus mean we must follow him in death? Does it mean that if we are faithful to Jesus we too will be persecuted and suffer and even die? That was certainly part of the reality of the earliest Christians. In our passage from Acts, Peter and the apostles understood that following Jesus may very well include persecution and death. They were imprisoned for disobeying the authorities, for preaching about Jesus. The account of Stephen’s martyrdom is recorded in Chapter 7 of Acts. Throughout the first several Christian centuries, there are records of quite a few Christian martyrs, men, women and children. In fact, it became common among early Christians to refer to the day of a martyr’s death as their “spiritual birthday“ and as a “second baptism”, this time with blood. Martyrdom continued throughout Christian history even up to the present day. Martin Luther King, Jr. was martyred because of his faithful witness to Christ love. In various regions of the world today there are Christian martyrs…including Sudan, Pakistan, China, and even in the Americas.

Can I get a Witness?

What is the meaning of “martyr” or “witness” for Christians today?  Since our American tradition generally tolerates diversity of beliefs and lifestyles, Christians do not usually face death because of their witness. So, how can we be witnesses to the passion, suffering, death and resurrection of Jesus?

In all three of the Synoptic Gospels—Matthew, Mark and Luke—Jesus says something that is familiar to us. Peter has just confessed Jesus as “The Messiah, the Son of the Living God.” Then Jesus tells his disciples what it will take for them to be his witnesses. He says, “If any one wants to follow me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever shall save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake and for the sake of the gospel will find it.”  Here encapsulated, I think, is how today we Christians can choose to be witnesses and martyrs for Christ or not; how we can choose to suffer for Christ’s sake or not. We can deny our selves and voluntarily take up Jesus’ cross or not; we can decide to “die to ourselves”. With Jesus we can pray “not my will but thine be done.” We can deny ourselves and our own desires and preferences; we can deny to ourselves what is most comfortable and convenient and easy, and we can take up the burden of a cross for the sake of the welfare of others. Indeed, we can make hard decisions that sometimes result in ridicule or harassment or rejection. To deny our selves in this way, to bear a cross of mercy and generosity for others is how we can die to ourselves and faithfully witness to Christ’s death and resurrection.  

What might this kind of death to self, this kind of martyrdom, look like at work or school or play or in family life?  How can we deny our selves and take up Christ’s cross?

1. In our professional work we can die to ourselves. For example, it might be easiest for us to take sides in conflicts and get angry at bosses and colleagues. Or we can deny ourselves that easy, crowded path and bear the cross of peacemaking and reconciliation. Jesus was a peacemaker for us. That’s how we can be martyrs for him.

2. At school, we can choose to ignore a fellow student who is bullied or harassed or laughed at or alone; or we can deny those instincts of self-preservation and bear the cross of courage and compassion. Despite peer pressure we can stand up for harassed and rejected students; standing up for kindness and friendship. Jesus did it for us and was unpopular. That’s how we can be martyrs for him.

3. In our community, we can deny ourselves certain material comforts and luxuries, and spend time and energy conserving meadows and woodlands, caring for God’s creation and creatures, just as God cares for us. That’s how we can be martyrs for Jesus and witnesses of resurrection life.  

4. In family life, parents can deny themselves the indulgence of some personal preference or hobby, and give extra time, attention, energy and care for their children and what they want to do. Jesus did it for us. That’s how we can be martyrs for him.

5. We can ignore those who live on the margins of society physically, mentally, financially and condemn them for being lazy and moochers; or like Jesus we can bear the cross of mercy and have compassion. Jesus did it for us. That’s how we can be martyrs for Jesus.

Conclusion

There are so many other ways each of us as Christians can be martyrs, witnesses to Jesus’ passion, death and resurrection. Think right now of ways during this coming week that you can be a martyr for Jesus; think of ways you can die to yourself and voluntarily take up the burden of mercy and generosity for the welfare of others.

Jesus was a martyr; he chose the hard road of the cross for us. All of those early disciples, including Thomas, despite their doubts, were martyrs and witnesses who took up in their own way a cross of mercy, of martyrdom. Almost daily we Christians have opportunities to be martyrs and witnesses; we too can choose to bear the burden of Christ’s cross; the burden of truth and justice and honesty and generosity and compassion and mercy and peace. Even collectively, as a Faithful Community, Trinity can be a martyr for the sake of the gospel. In doing so we bring to others the passion and power Christ’s resurrection: to the student who is bullied or rejected; to the injured animal, to those who are sad and sorrowful; to those on the margins for whom a crust of bread and cup of water renews life. In so many ways each day we can die to our selves and be martyrs for Jesus.

So, now how many of us aspire to be martyrs for Jesus? May God help us.

Witness to New Life

By the Rev. Dr. Paul S. Nancarrow

This sermon is based on Luke 24:1-12 (and Luke 24:13-53). Click here to listen to an audio version of this sermon.

I just love Luke’s Easter story. I love the way Luke unfolds the narrative of the Resurrection. And one of the things I love best is the way Luke tells one single story spread out over several small scenes, each scene building in intensity and meaning and joy. It takes Luke an entire chapter to tell the story of Easter, as each scene adds one more piece of the overall pattern. The Gospel reading we just heard is only the beginning, only the first scene in the story; and it’s moving and it’s joyful and it’s powerful – but it’s just the start – and if we want to get the whole story, we have to fill in the rest.

So this is how it goes: Early on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and Joanna and Mary the mother of James go to the tomb where the body of Jesus was put in haste on Friday afternoon. And when they get there they find the tomb open and the body gone; and two angels appear to tell them Jesus is not there, he has been raised, exactly as he had told them he would be. They run to tell the rest of the disciples, the eleven apostles and their companions, and most of them don’t believe it. But Peter runs to the tomb, and looks inside – and he doesn’t see angels, but he does see the shroud from Jesus’ body lying by itself – which means this wasn’t an ordinary grave robbing, someone didn’t just take the body, because they wouldn’t have left the shroud behind – but something has happened that has made the shroud just not necessary anymore.

Later that day, two disciples are walking from Jerusalem to the town of Emmaus, and as they walk a stranger comes up and joins them. And this stranger seems to know more about Jesus than they do, and tells them about all the passages in scripture that prove the Messiah must suffer and then enter into glory. And as the stranger speaks the disciples feel their hearts kindled with fire and energy, so that they ask the stranger to stay with them when they stop for a meal. And at the table the stranger takes the bread and blesses it and breaks it – and with that gesture they recognize it’s Jesus, risen and alive – and as soon as they know him he vanishes from their sight.

And they are so excited that they’ve seen Jesus that they run all the way back to Jerusalem, a journey that took them half the day on the way out, and they burst into the room where the apostles are – and before they can say “We have seen Jesus!” the whole company tells them “The Lord has risen indeed and has appeared to Peter!” And while they’re all shouting in joy and confusion, Jesus himself suddenly is standing there among them, alive and whole and real; and he says “Peace be with you,” and he shows them his hands and his feet, and he sits down to eat with them, and they give him a piece of broiled fish (I love that little detail!), and as they share the meal he opens their minds to understand the New Life, and to be his witnesses to the ends of the earth.

That is the whole story Luke tells about Easter. Years later, when Peter is out being Jesus’ witness, preaching to the household of Cornelius, he sums up the whole Easter experience by remembering how the risen, living Jesus appeared “not to all the people, but to us … who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead.”

And in a way I think that is the key to the whole chapter-long story. Jesus appeared to those who ate and drank with him. In this story Luke shows people receiving two kinds of evidence of the Resurrection, two kinds of witness that convince them Jesus is alive.

The first kind of witness is sensory experience, the evident perception of Jesus with them. The women see the angels. Peter sees the shroud left behind. The Emmaus disciples see and hear the stranger walking with them. The group of disciples together in the upper room see Jesus among them, and touch his hands and feet. They all have perceptual experience of Jesus as alive.

But what I find really interesting is that Luke implies that such sensory, perceptual evidence is inconclusive. The women see the angels but aren't quite sure what to make of them. Peter sees the tomb empty, but only goes home "amazed." The Emmaus disciples see Jesus but don't know who he is. The group in the upper room can see Jesus well enough, but they're not sure that what they're seeing is not a ghost. They all have perceptual experience, but by itself the perception is not enough.

What convinces them of the reality of Resurrection is the other sort of evidence Luke narrates, and that is the witness of relationship, that is the experience of an inner change in themselves in the presence of the Risen Jesus. The women who came to the tomb in sorrow, expecting to anoint a dead body, leave the tomb filled with joy, ready to proclaim something extraordinary. The Emmaus disciples feel their hearts on fire with wisdom and spirit. The upper room gathering experience their minds opened up and new understanding and courage and energy filling them to go out and tell the story. The breaking of the bread, the sharing of the meal, reveals truth to them, and nourishes them to live in that truth themselves. The really convincing evidence of resurrection in Luke's story is the transformation, the renewal, the New Life they feel in themselves when the Risen Jesus gives himself to them in relationship by eating and drinking with them.

And that is precisely what is going on here for us in this Easter morning Eucharist. We experience Resurrection as we eat and drink with the Risen Jesus, and feel in ourselves the renewal and transformation that relationship in New Life brings.

You know, sometimes I hear people say that they wish they could have been eyewitnesses of the Resurrection themselves, that they could have been there in Jerusalem on the first Easter morning and seen the evidence of the Risen Jesus with their own eyes and touched him with their own hands – because then they could really know, then they could really be sure. And I understand that feeling. But what Luke tells us in his story is that that kind of sensory evidence, that kind of perceptual experience, is not the most convincing, even for the eyewitnesses. Even for the eyewitnesses, the evidence that made the most difference was the relational experience – and that kind of experience we have, even 2000 years later, as we gather here on this Easter morning, as we gather on every Sunday morning, to eat and drink with each other in the Name of Jesus, and in this relationship to witness the promise and the power and the transformation of the New Life in us.

Someone among us is grieving a death or a loss or a change in their life. And they come to church, and the hymns and the songs and the prayers and the smiles on people’s faces and the joy in the air lifts their spirits and gives them hope that there is something for them beyond their grief – and that is a witness to New Life.

Someone among us is facing a difficult decision, and they’re not sure what to do, they’re not sure they’re even qualified to make such a decision. And they turn to their church friends, and they talk and pray and discern together, the person finds the courage to choose and the will to follow through on that choice – and that is a witness to New Life.

Someone among us is seeking a way for their life, something to commit to, something to value, something that is more than just money and success and status the way most people measure them. And they hear the Gospel – maybe the same Gospel story they’ve heard many times before – but this time, in this situation, with these people, the Gospel speaks to them in a new way, and they see in Jesus the invitation to a love that gives them meaning and value and purpose – and that is a witness to New Life.

We know the Resurrection is real, we are witnesses to New Life, because we see it and know it and feel it in ourselves in these relationships we have in the Name of Jesus, these relationships centered and symbolized in eating and drinking together, sharing the bread and the wine, gathering at the table, loving each other as the Risen, Living Jesus loves us.

That is the New Life Jesus opens up for us. That is what we celebrate together on this Easter Day, and for all eternity. Amen.

Obedient to Human Form

By the Rev. Dr. Paul S. Nancarrow

This sermon is based on Philippians 2:5-11. Click here to listen to an audio version of this sermon.

“Being found in human form, Jesus humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death — even death on a cross.”

I was in a Bible study once where we were looking at this passage, and in response to the first study question — “What words or images catch your attention?” — one of the people in the group said the word that always caught his attention was obedient, that Jesus’ death on the cross was an act of obedience. And that in turn got me to thinking: In dying on the cross, just what was Jesus obeying? Who or what demanded Jesus’ obedience even to the point of death?

One way of answering that is to say that Jesus was obeying God, that it was God’s plan from all eternity that the Word should be incarnate in Jesus, the Word should take flesh in Jesus, so that Jesus could be killed, so that the shedding of Jesus’ sacrificial blood could pay the price humanity owed to God because of sin. It was God’s plan from all eternity that Jesus should be punished so that we could be set free — and when Jesus died on the cross, he did so out of obedience to God’s eternal plan.

But I have to admit that I have some trouble with that interpretation. You see, the Bible speaks over and over again — Jesus speaks over and over again — about how God forgives sins, and forgiveness doesn’t mean punishing one person so that other people can go free. Forgiveness means not punishing, intentionally giving up the right to punish, choosing something other than punishment to make relationship right. The more I’ve thought about it over the years, the more I’ve done theological reflection on it, the more I’ve come to think that it was not God’s plan for Jesus to be killed so that we could be forgiven. It was God’s plan for Jesus to proclaim forgiveness of sins and new life in communion in grace, and Jesus was killed by worldly powers that didn’t want to hear that proclamation. So if Jesus was “obedient to the point of death,” it wasn’t God’s plan he was obeying.

What then did Jesus obey? I think Paul gives us the answer in the very same verse that mentions obedience: “Being found in human form,” he says, “Jesus became obedient.” What Jesus was obeying, even to the point of death, was “human form,” human nature, the basic ground and condition of what it means to be a human being.

Because whether we like it or not, it is part of human nature that we die. We spend lots of time and energy and cosmetics and fantasy trying to deny it, but we are mortal. We are transient. We are here for a few years, a few decades, then we’re gone. We began this Lenten season on Ash Wednesday with a mark of our mortality, with ashes that say to us “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” It is a part of “being found in human form” that we die.

We could even say that dying is part of our life. We die a little every day. Every moment is a little bit of passing away. Think about it: Right now, in this moment, you are having an experience, and the experience is vivid and vibrant and present and alive. But after this moment comes another moment, and that moment brings a new experience, and the experience you’re having now will pass away to make room for that new experience, and as it passes away it becomes less vivid, less vibrant, less present, less alive. As moment by moment comes to us, all our experiences fade and dwindle and pass away, until some of them we can’t even capture in memory anymore. The philosopher Whitehead says that our life is a “perpetual perishing” — because the moments fade, because we can’t hold on, because nothing ever stays the same, because we are always changing, because everything we put together sooner or later falls apart, because everything we accomplish has its moment and then passes away. It is part of human nature that we die, and we die a little every day.

And Jesus, being found in human form, became obedient, obedient to human nature, obedient to human nature even to the point of death.

And therefore, Paul says, God exalted him, therefore God raised him up, therefore God gave him a name above all other names, therefore God took his death and made it the source of life.

The death and resurrection of Jesus — this tragic and triumphant tale we tell in the Solemn Reading of the Passion and the celebration of the Eucharist on this Palm Sunday — the death and resurrection of Jesus is simultaneously the deepest mystery of our faith and the most basic ordinary truth about being human. The death and resurrection of Jesus tells us that it is part of human nature that we die, and that if we will be obedient even to that, if we will commend even that into God’s hands, then God will take our perishing and raise it up to the possibility of new life. The death and resurrection of Jesus tells us that our human form — even our transience, even our passingness, even the way each moment fades when the new moment comes — our human form can be the channel and the instrument for God’s creative grace, for God’s creating energy, which can take up all the fading moments of our lives and make out of them possibilities for doing something new. The death and resurrection of Jesus tells us that we must be ready to die to what is, so that we can be alive to what in God we can yet become.

There was a parishioner in a church I served in Tennessee who was a recovering alcoholic — and who was not at all shy about telling people how much her faith and her church’s support meant to her recovery. She told a group of us once that the hardest thing she ever did was the day she looked in the mirror and said to her reflection “You are an alcoholic. You've been pretending for a long time. You’ve been in denial for a long time. You’ve built up this image of yourself as someone in control, as someone who can handle it. But that is a lie. That is not who you are. You are an alcoholic. And if you don’t accept that, it will kill you.” She told us that facing that truth about herself was hard, the hardest thing she’d ever done — that giving up her image of herself felt like giving up everything, it felt like dying. But if she hadn’t accepted the truth, she said, if she hadn’t become obedient to that reality, she said, she never could have turned her life around, she never could have admitted she needed help, she never would have gone to an AA meeting and gotten a sponsor and started to do the hard work of becoming sober. She had to become obedient to the truth about herself before she could offer that truth to God, and let God’s grace come to her and take her up and make of her the possibility for something new. If she hadn’t become obedient to that hard truth, she would never have let God exalt her to being the sober, alive, joyful person she was when I knew her.

And I think that is the good news of the Passion for us, too. Because we all have hard truths about ourselves we have to face. We all have difficult realities to which we must become obedient. A relationship ends. A career opportunity becomes a disappointment. A dream you’ve cherished for years turns out to be something you’ll never be able to do. A diagnosis tells you you’ll have less time than you’d thought. Someone you love dearly is no longer there. The way we’ve always done it is no longer enough to do it now. You look in the mirror and realize you are not the person you’ve been pretending to be. We all have hard truths we must face, truths of our limitations, our failings, our perishing, our mortality. And the mystery of the Passion tells us that it is only by facing those truths, only by admitting those pains, only by becoming obedient to that reality, that we can commend our spirits to God, that we can open up the way for grace to come to us and raise us up and make of us new possibilities for life and light and love.

Being found in human form, Jesus humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death — and therefore God exalted him, and gave him the name above every other name. May we share in such obedience, and in such exaltation, all in the Name of Christ. Amen.