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Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, Pentecost, John 14:8-17

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John 14:8-17 is a slightly odd text for Pentecost — until the end it says very little about the coming of the Spirit. But as with all of John 13-17, it is theologically rich.

John 14:8-17

It’s a great text on the Trinity and on the purpose of the Incarnation — plus, if you sneak a few verses into the next section it says some very important things about spiritual life.

It is also a very odd passage on prayer which I’ll have to discuss another time.

The Holy Spirit

First, let’s think about the coming of the Spirit. Jesus makes a very important promise about the Spirit here – one that sets his promise apart from the impression of the Spirit we get in Acts chapter 2 and in our culture — where it is often all about the gift of tongues.

The Spirit in the Acts and Paul

In Acts chapter 2, when the Spirit comes with power, we see the original form of the gift of tongues in action.

The Apostles began to speak the praises of God in a crowd gathered from all corners of the earth. They found themselves able to speak the native language of all these people. Tongues was a miraculous ability to speak ordinary human languages — like an English speaker suddenly speaking Chinese. That enabled clear communication and prompted effective proclamation of the Gospel of Christ.

Fast forward to the letters of Paul and the same gift of the Spirit looks rather different. Tongues is but one of several gifts. And instead of enabling ordinary language, tongues is a special language for worship, understandable only if someone has the matching gift of interpretation.

The Spirit in Los Angeles 1909

Fast forward again to 1909 in Los Angeles California and the birth of Pentecostalism. In a revival at the Azusa Street Mission, people began to speak in tongues — and ever since, the gift of tongues has looked a lot more like Paul’s version that that in Acts. People under the Spirit’s sway burst forth in words unlike any human language.

The other gifts of the Spirit mentioned by Paul also became prominent in the Pentecostal movement, but nothing marked the Spirit’s presence so distinctly as the gift of tongues.

(When I was a university student a group set up a table at the student union building. Their sign read “We’re looking for Christians.” Obediently I approached. “I’m a Christian.” I said. “Well, have you spoken in tongues?” he asked. When I told him “No,” it was clear that he didn’t believe I was really a Christian at all.)

The Spirit in John 14

So, what do we find in Jesus’ statement about the Spirit’s coming? Well, there is nothing about the gift of tongues. That fact sets our Lord’s testimony apart from modern expectations — ever since the rise of Pentecostalism vast numbers of Christians assume that the proper function of the Spirit is to give the gift of tongues.

Jesus says that the Spirit’s role is to be our divine “advocate.” An advocate, or in some translations a counselor, is a role taken from the legal system. One hires a lawyer, a legal counselor, to serve as an advocate when one has to go to court.

If it is a civil case, your advocate stands up for you, making the best argument possible on your behalf, so that you get what you need from the legal system.
If it is a criminal case, your advocate stands up for you against the accusations of your prosecutor, making the best possible argument to keep you from being punished.

Personally I really like the idea that the Spirit is my Advocate, my Counselor – someone called to stand by me and help me against my foes.

The devil is an accuser. When I’m oppressed by guilt and shame, accused by some inner devil, I’m glad to hear that the Spirit is on my side, making a better, stronger case for my innocence – that I really am forgiven in Christ.

And when life is hard and I need to plead for help from God, I’m glad to hear that the Spirit is my advocate, making my case for mercy and justice.

Frankly, I need a divine Advocate far more often than I need to speak another language.

The Trinity

But as I said, this passage also says things about Jesus’ perspective on the Trinity that contrast with typical Western views.

The contrast with common assumption

Some of what Jesus says contrasts with common simplistic theological assumptions rather than with any church’s official doctrine.

Jesus tells Phillip that, because Phillip has seen Jesus, Phillip has actually seen the Father.

Here and throughout John, and especially throughout the Farewell Discourse, Jesus is making claims about his own full deity. He builds a case, sometimes in subtle words and sometimes in bold, that he is the incarnation of the Second Person of the Trinity – he is just as much “God” as his Father is “God,” and he is fully One with the Father.

That’s key to why he’s come: he wants to make perfectly clear who God is and what God is like.

And that contrasts with the views of many a Christian in many a pew in many a church. Maybe you personally have a very high Christology. But if you could get people around you to be completely honest, you would find many who think Jesus is, at rock bottom, a man and not God.

Jesus disagrees.

The contrast with Western teaching

More importantly from the perspective of the grand sweep of history, Jesus’ portrayal of the Spirit rings truer to the Orthodox East than it does to the Catholic and Protestant West.

In the East the understanding of the Trinity is primarily about the way the three Persons relate to one another – about the nature of the Godhead eternally, quite apart from what we encounter of the Persons here in creation.

So, as it originally said in the Nicene Creed,

We believe … in the Holy Spirit… who proceeds from the Father.

With the Father and the Son He is worshipped and glorified.

Notice that the when it says the Spirit proceeds from the Father the next thing in the next thing in the sentence is a period.

No so in the West. Chances are, if you are a Catholic or a Protestant and your church ever says the Nicene Creed, it goes like this:

We believe … in the Holy Spirit … who proceeds from the Father and the Son.

That little phrase “and the Son” was added by Christians in the West – despite rules that nobody was allowed to amend the Creed.

(Don’t tell anybody, but the East quietly amends it too, saying “I believe” instead of “We believe”.)

Anyway, this little addition reflects a serious conceptual difference in how the two sides of the Christian world understand the relations of the Persons of the Trinity.

In the East, the Father is the ultimate source: The Son is begotten by the Father, and the Spirit proceeds from the Father.
In the West, while the Son is begotten by the Father, the Spirit proceeds from BOTH the Father AND the Son.

Sometimes the West’s beloved St. Augustine would describe Spirit as the love between the Father and the Son – a description that gives credit to both Father and Son but reduces the Spirit to rather less than an eternal co-equal Person.

Anyway, though Jesus is talking here about asking God to send the Spirit to us, rather than talking about the Spirit’s role in the Godhead, this passage sounds more like Trinitarian theology in the East than the West.

The Spiritual Life

And the passage’s contribution to our sense of Christian spiritual life? Well that goes to what Jesus says about the Trinity too. As I said, you have to sneak a peek into the next part of the passage.

First think about the way people talk about the reality of Christian faith. We say “It’s a personal relationship with Jesus” or “with God.” We say “It’s about asking Jesus into your heart.” Or we think “It’s about being filled with the Spirit.”

We seem to focus on one Person of the Trinity at a time.

Now check these verses out. First from this passage:

This is the Spirit of truth,

whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him.

You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.” (John 14:17 NRSV)

If this lectionary selection were all we had, you might think that, after the Ascension, Jesus the Son would be with the Father in heaven, quite out of our reach, and that only the Spirit would be with us and in us.

But then comes this, from one verse beyond our passage:

I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you.” (John 14:18 NRSV)

So despite the fact that Jesus will ascend to heaven, Jesus promises to come and be with us.

Perhaps you think he’s talking about the second coming. But keep reading:

In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you.” (John 14:19-20 NRSV)

If he was talking about the second coming, he was mistaken about the timing: it didn’t happen “in a little while.”

And in fact this is quite different than the second coming: this is Jesus promising to be “in you” just as he already said the Spirit would be “in you.”

So keep reading:

Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.” (John 14:23 NRSV)

So now Jesus makes it clear and complete. The Father will also be with us. Jesus says he and his Father will “make our home” with us.

Take note: in this passage Jesus tells us that here and now we are in relation to the Trinity, and that each of the three Persons comes to dwell in us and with us.

If you are used to thinking the Christian life is really just about being in a general “relationship with God” then keep all of this in mind.

Likewise if you think it is all about praying to the Father, having Jesus in your heart, or being filled with the Spirit.

Protestants often don’t really know what to do with the doctrine of the Trinity. We think of it as abstraction and speculation. But the ancient Church was right to emphasize the Trinity, to try to discern as much as we possibly can about what Scripture reveals about our one God in three Persons.

The Trinity is the God with whom we are in relationship.

The Trinity is the God in whom we have faith. 

Nothing could be more practical — or more important.

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Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 7th Sunday of Easter, John 17:20-26

UItima Cena, DaVinci

Sunday’s lectionary Gospel (John 17:20-26) is a chunk of Jesus’ “High Priestly Prayer” after dinner on Maundy Thursday. It is a remarkable passage when taken as a whole — one of my favorites really.

And the lectionary does give us the whole thing. You just have to be patient. Every year, on the 7th Sunday of Easter, you’ll hear a third of it.

John 17:20-26

Throughout the “Farewell Discourse” (John 13-17), and here in this prayer, Jesus rolls through a set of themes. One of them is the Persons and relations of the Trinity. That gets hinted at here, but without reference to the Holy Spirit.

The themes that have always struck me in the larger section are the three relations that define the Christian life. Jesus sort of rings the changes on them, bouncing from one to the next and back again.

He talks about his disciples having an intimate and growing relationship with God.
He talks about his disciples having an intimate and growing relationship with each other, as loving community.
And he talks about his disciples having a vitally important relationship with the world around them — with all the “non-disciples,” you might say, or perhaps the “at least not yet disciples.”

If you want a study and meditation project, comb these chapters to build a complete picture of what Jesus teaches about each of those three relations. You’ll be glad you did.

Now if you listen to the stories of Christians around you, it can be pretty hard to see these relationships working as a linear process.

You can start with any one of the three relations and, if it’s working right, you end up with the others as part of the package.

I mean, one person falls in love with Christian community, and is led to faith in God—then eventually they come to serve God in the world.
Another has a direct encounter with God and is led, step by step, toward community—and they are eventually transformed and able to serve in the world.
A third starts with active caring for the world and is led back to community, or to God.

What looks like the cause in one place sounds like the effect in another. But that’s reality in the life of faith. It isn’t tidy or strictly logical.

I guess it’s like a dance. You can start by learning just one of the steps, but each one leads to the other until you have your whole self in, and you’re shankin’ it all around.

Think of the Hokey-Pokey. That’s what it’s all about.

A Non-Linear Process

In this small section of this big prayer the themes almost do sound like a process.

He prays the disciples will come to be a particular quality or kind of community.
He prays for his community to have a particular effect on the world around them.
He prays for his disciples and the world to come to a particular kind of faith.

…So That…

I’ll start with what seems like the end. Jesus prays that certain things will happen “so that” certain other things happen. Let’s look at those consequences.

In this passage the main “so that” is about the disciples having an effect on the world of non-disciples.

He prays for them to have unity with God

…so that the world may believe” (John 17:21 NRSV)

And this is going to happen for outsiders, the real subject of his prayer being

…those who will believe in me through their word” (John 17:20 NRSV)

And he prays a second time for their unity, this time with each other,

…so that the world may know” (John 17:23 NRSV)

It gives a sense of how important Jesus’ mission to the world is in everything. Believing and having unity are all for the sake of reaching out to God’s world.

Think of it as a reminder of how all of Scripture is about God’s purposes in the world, God’s mission. We need to see that so that we can live the life God intended, joining that mission.

…Believe That…

If the mission is for the world to believe, it should lead us to ask what Jesus hopes the world will believe. We need a definition of the faith Jesus is looking for.

First it is a simple assertion:

…so that the world may believe

that you have sent me.” (John 17:20 NRSV)

Then Jesus expands it a bit:

…so that the world may know

that you have sent me

and have loved them

even as you have loved me.” (John 17:23 NRSV)

When he restates things later in the prayer, defining the faith that the disciples already have, he goes back to the basic version:

…the world does not know you, but I know you;

and these know that you have sent me.” (John 17:25 NRSV)

It seems a simple, even an inadequate kind of faith. Can it really be enough to believe that Jesus was sent by God?

Personally I take it as a description of entry level faith — not the end of the journey, but the necessary beginning point.

It is echoed in 1 John 4:9-14, where the Father having sent the Son is the expression of love that transforms believers and the community, and in 2 John 7, where denying that Jesus has come in the flesh is a marker of false teaching. Not to mention John 3:16, which you probably know by heart.

I suppose it works like this: Coming into right relationship with Jesus requires a true assessment of who he is and what he is about.

First we encounter someone’s testimony about him. Moving to real faith is coming to believe that this Jesus is not just some really nice guy.

We need to trust that he is the One who is directly sent to us by God the Father to solve our deepest personal and systemic problems. The sending of the Son then comes to imply the love of God for us, as in verse 23.

And if it still seems like too small a definition of saving and transforming faith, take note: He says “believe” once, but twice he says we will “know.”

Faith, of a substantial and life-changing kind is not just an opinion. It is a kind of knowledge.

John Calvin would approve:

Now we shall possess a right definition of faith if we call it

a firm and certain knowledge

of God’s benevolence toward us,

founded upon the truth of the freely given promise in Christ,

both revealed to our minds

and sealed upon our hearts

through the Holy Spirit.” (Institutes, 3.2.7)

This idea that faith is knowing, really knowing something about who Jesus is and why he came — and beyond that knowing him personally — well that’s a radical shift of perspective for many a Christian.

…Be One…

So how does Jesus pray that we and the world will get this knowledge?

By closeness.

You can put a fancier word on it, something like “unity” or “oneness,” but I suspect that pushes the reality further way, into the realm of theory.

Jesus wants us to be really, really, close. He prays for his assembled disciples and all who will come to believe,

…that they may all be one.

As you, Father, are in me and I am in you,

may they also be in us,…” (John 17:21 NRSV)

Note that the closeness, the unity, the oneness he describes first is really about that first relation of the Christian life. He wants us to be one, not just with each other, but with the Trinity. Just as the Father and the Son indwell each other, we are to indwell God.

That’s something big to live into. You don’t just follow a few daily steps and find yourself indwelling the Godhead.

But whether it comes first, follows after, or is simply a parallel process, we are to be close, united, one, with each other:

…so that they may be one, as we are one,

I in them and you in me,

that they may become completely one,…” (John 17:22-23 NRSV)

So it works two ways:

Christian unity is to be like the unity of the Trinity: “…as we are one…”

Christian unity is dependent on union with the Trinity: “…I in them…that they may become completely one…”

All of which I find both exciting and sobering.

It is thrilling, amazing, to think we are invited into that kind of unity with God, and that God has a vision of the Church embracing that kind of unity.

It is sobering because it is so far from the current reality.

My experience of unity within local churches feels fragmentary, fractured. The experience is less like being in the Trinity, and more like hoping someone will say “Hello!” If someone actually remembers my name it’s a good day.

The global Church’s experience of unity is not much better. Attempts to reunite East and West, or Protestant and Catholic, or the disparate branches of Protestantism, or even the divided strands of the Reformed Tradition struggle and fail.

I think the thing to note is that Jesus’ vision of unity is not something we merely claim, or strive for, or force through our structures. Unity among Christians is interdependent with, or maybe dependent upon, the unity of Christians with the Triune God.

So I’ll start where I am, and do what I can. I’ll draw as close to God as I can through prayer, and keep show up at church, trying to live into Christ’s vision.

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Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 6th Sunday of Easter, John 5:1-9

Pool of Bethesda, Robert Bateman

Sometimes the Revised Common Lectionary offers two Gospel readings to choose from. The Sixth Sunday of Easter in Year C is one of those times. They don’t explain why, and I frankly cannot guess.

I suspect it is an attempt to get me to write more blog posts.

John 5:1-9

In any case, I already wrote about the first option (John 14:21-29).

Today I’m taking a quick look at the second.

It is a healing story.

The Setting

In John 5:1-9, Jesus is walking with his friends in Jerusalem one Sabbath day, and they come to Beth-zatha (aka “Bethesda”), where five porticoes, or covered colonnades, surrounded a pool.

Sounds nice.

John says it was near the Sheep Gate, though for those of us who have never walked the streets of the holy city that detail doesn’t add much.

These shady porches by the pool seem to have become a place for disabled people to hang out. John tells us that there were many, their problems varied:

In these lay many invalids—blind, lame, and paralyzed.” (John 5:3 NRSV)

There’s no way to know whether this is where the disabled people wanted to be, or if someone else stuck them there.

The Disabled Man

But it seems that for some it was a regular thing:

One man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years.” (John 5:5 NRSV)

It sounds like he’s been hanging at the pool for a long, long time. But really, we don’t know that he was there all the time. We only know that he had been ill for thirty-eight years. Maybe today was a special day out.

In fact we don’t even find out what ails the guy. From the conversation it is easy to infer that he was paralyzed — but nobody actually says so.

The Conversation

The heart of the passage is Jesus’ conversation with this man.

Jesus looks at the man and asks

Do you want to be made well?” (John 5:6 NRSV)

The man answers with a complaint:

Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up;

and while I am making my way, someone else steps down ahead of me.” (John 5:7 NRSV)

He sounds so sad, so frustrated. That’s understandable.

It’s actually a pretty realistic bit of dialogue. I’ve had similar conversations with people who are hard pressed by life. Face to face with someone who is at the end of their rope, a total stranger, I ask “How are you?” And their whole saga pours out without any context.

There are a lot of people who face hard struggles, wishing someone cared enough to ask and listen. The results can be a bit awkward. That’s love sometimes.

But his complaint is also pretty enigmatic. Maybe Jesus and John knew exactly what the guy was talking about, but we readers don’t.

So the man’s statement leaves us begging for a background story.

Apparently some early scribe understood our plight. Verse 4 (which doesn’t appear in the NRSV or many other modern Bibles) looks like it was a scribe’s little explanation jotted in the margin of a Bible. Then when that manuscript was copied, the next scribe thought it was an actual verse, and it got written into the next manuscript. Then it got copied into many others.

Here’s what that missing verse 4 looks like in some manuscripts:

For an angel went down at a certain season into the pool, and troubled the water: whosoever then first after the troubling of the water stepped in was made whole of whatsoever disease he had.” (John 5:4 KJV)

Nice explanation. Makes total sense of the disabled man’s frustrated comment to Jesus.

But whether verse 4 was there or not, Jesus responded to the man’s need — in fact, even thought the man himself didn’t really articulate his problem or his request:

Jesus said to him,

‘Stand up, take your mat and walk.’” (John 5:8 NRSV)

If the reading went on, we’d find out that this healing was on the Sabbath, and that was a big problem for some people — but that’s not part of the lectionary text.

My Usual Misinterpretation

The way I’ve generally heard this story (whether from preachers or in my own imagination), Jesus is using his divine powers to know the man’s inner motivations.

Jesus decides he needs to press the disabled man, make him articulate his desire for healing, name his problem. It’s sort of an argument to get people to make very specific requests in prayer.

When Jesus saw him lying there

and knew that he had been there a long time,

he said to him,

‘Do you want to be made well?’”  (John 5:6 NRSV)

“Well,” we think condescendingly, “maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he should stop being lazy and actually seek some help.”

Maybe, we think, he’s an example to us of how we need to articulate our desires in prayer, name our problems, take a step of faith in seeking healing.

And, we think, if the man won’t ask specifically, Jesus isn’t going to help him.

I’ve come to think that this is a pretty rotten interpretation. Why? Two reasons.

It infers a kind of withholding, stingy, maybe even bullying character to Jesus that isn’t true to the Gospels.
In the text the man does not, in fact, name his illness or ask to be healed. He just complains — and Jesus heals him anyway.

Seeing Hints of Jesus’ Character

Better to hear Jesus’ words and see Jesus’ actions in light of his character — and find clues to his character in the actual words and actions in the text.

Thinking more kindly about Jesus’ question, we say, “Of course he wants to be made well. He’s been laying there, waiting for a miracle, for nearly half a century.”

Why, then, does Jesus ask at all?

In the words of famous theologian Aretha Franklin, “R-E-S-P-E-C-T.”

I’ve come to think of it this way: Jesus knows all about the guy’s problem. Without being told, Jesus “knew he had been there a long time”. Surely he knew why he was there as well, and probably how the guy felt about his life.

So Jesus might have started with that knowledge. Instead he doesn’t even hint at it.

He asks.

Do you want to be made well?” (John 5:6 NRSV)

There’s a respect thing here, not a blame thing.

Jesus gave the man relationship first, letting the man say what he wanted to say, rather than blustering in and zapping him with a cure.

On Prayer

And that really does say a lot about prayer.

The fact that we are invited to pray means that God treats us with respect.

One of the biggest obstacles people bring up regarding prayer runs like this:

If God knows everything,

If God is all powerful,

If God really loves me,

Then why do I have to pray?

When we put it up as a logic problem, it sounds so convincing.

But when we put it up as a relationship issue, the logical problem melts away.

I don’t really want the all-powerful all-knowing God to step in and resolve everything in advance.

The life of faith is rich and wonderful because instead, the all-powerful, all-knowing God is loving enough to treat me with respect.

God asks me to tell about my problems.

And God listens.

And God responds.

God asks, listens, and responds even when I don’t put my problems in the proper words.

God asks, listens, and responds even when I sound kind of whiny.

You know, that’s awfully good news.

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Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 6th Sunday of Easter, John 14:23-29

My strongest memory of this week’s first Gospel passage is from a pastoral moment gone awry.

I was praying with a group of seminarians before they started a very long day of ordination exams. I decided it would be encouraging, comforting in the midst of stress, to quote Jesus:

Peace I leave with you;

my peace I give to you.

I do not give to you as the world gives.

Do not let your hearts be troubled,

and do not let them be afraid.” (John 14:27 NRSV)

After all, when Jesus spoke these words he was trying to comfort his anxious disciples.

But as I prayed those sweet words, one trembling Presbyterian burst out,

Oh no! It’s the funeral passage!

John 14:23-29

I suppose these verses really are heard most often at funerals. And for the same reason. Pastors want to comfort the grieving, so we have woven Jesus’ promise of peace into our liturgies and prayers.

But when you read with just a bit of context, say the whole of John 14:23-29 as assigned for the 6th Sunday of Easter in Year C of the lectionary, the passage presents us some larger, and really interesting, theological themes.

A Trinitarian passage

More than a funeral passage, I see this as a Trinitarian passage.

Much of the “Upper Room Discourse” or “Farewell Discourse” in John could be described that way. Jesus discusses each of the Persons of the Trinity — the Father of the Son, the Son of the Father (aka, himself), and the Holy Spirit.

He emphasizes the relations between the Persons.

He details the work of the Persons in relation to us.

And along the way he presents the radical good news that we human beings are drawn up into relationship and even union with the Trinity.

Here in this section

the Father’s love is given to the followers of the Son ,
the words of the Son are said to be from the Father ,
the Spirit is promised as our advocate and to teach us of the Son ,
Jesus is going to the Father …

The trinitarian nature of God turns out to be crucial to everything Jesus does on our behalf — and that’s worth considering very deeply.

A Mysticism passage

All this good Trinitarian stuff, however, is spoken in the context of Jesus anticipating the disciples’ coming grief. It is part of his attempt to provide some comfort.

The comfort Jesus offers is about something very mysterious: the ongoing and very real presence of God in their lives.

Jesus says that he and his Father will do several things for those who love him:

…my Father will love them,

and we will come to them

and make our home with them.” (John 14:23 NRSV)

He also says that the Spirit will be on the scene to support and teach, thanks to the Father and the Son (cf. John 14:26).

All of this is direct. It is God’s presence with the believer, unmediated by anything.

And that, my friend, is a prominent definition of “mysticism.”

Bernard McGinn, in his extraordinary multivolume history of Christian mysticism in the West talks about how slippery the concept of mysticism is. But McGinn’s scholarly definition attempts to distill what is really being described when the term is used historically and theologically: mysticism is a direct, unmediated encounter with God.

I know: to a lot of Christians “mysticism” is a bad word. We act as if it is inherently non-Christians, or contrary to a the life of faith as revealed in Scripture.

Personally I’ve always thought this was either rather sad or rather funny. Why? Because the same parts of Christianity that complain that mysticism is a problem will tell you that Christianity, boiled down to its essence, is “a personal relationship with God.”

Our logic, combined with McGinn’s scholarship, goes something like this:

We think mysticism is bad.
Instead we think real Christianity itself is a personal relationship with God.
But a personal relationship is, pretty much, a “direct, unmediated encounter” with God.
And a direct unmediated encounter with God is the actual definition of mysticism.
So… our sense of real Christianity sounds a lot like mysticism.

But I’ll leave behind my personal polemic against the illogic of Christians on this matter.

I’ll simply emphasize that in this Gospel passage, Jesus promises each of us a direct, unmediated encounter with each of the three Persons of the Trinity.

And I think that is very good news.

The measure of love

A third important theological issue here is pretty straightforward. Jesus gives us a measure by which to tell whether we really love him or not.

That may seem unnecessary. After all, don’t I know whether I love someone?

Maybe or maybe not.

On the one hand, people’s feelings can be a muddle. Where would the romantic comedy genre be if people in books and movies always knew whether they were in love?

But on the other hand love is a behavioral issue — and that’s what Jesus points us to.

Those who love me

will keep my word,

…

Whoever does not love me

does not keep my words… ” (John 14:23-24 NRSV)

The thing is, love is not solely a noun — something you have, a state you are in.

Love is, in many more important ways, a verb — it is something you do.

Jesus does want our love. He’s quite clear that the key to all the commandments is to love God with all of your being.

But no matter how strong our “noun love” — our feelings — he really insists on our “verb love.”

He is quite clear here that the measure of whether we love him is whether we do what he has told us to do.

So it’s important that we do some ongoing self-examination. We need to look at the lives we live, especially what we do in Jesus’ name, and ask whether we are doing what he said.

And if our so-called Christian actions increase the amount of misery, poverty, hatred, and division in the world then we may need to make a fresh start.

That includes what we do and say on social media.

(If you want some good approaches to the Christian practice of self-examination, see the chapters on St. Ignatius of Loyola and the Puritans in my book Kneeling with Giants.)

The work of the Spirit

The fourth fascinating theological theme in this passage is the work of the Spirit.

But the Advocate,

the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name,

will teach you everything,

and remind you of all that I have said to you.” (John 14:26 NRSV)

There is a lot more about the Spirit in the Farewell Discourses, but this bit is worth noticing.

In the 21st century, after a hundred years of the Pentecostal and Charismatic movements, we tend to assume certain things about the Holy Spirit — especially that the Spirit’s work is giving gifts, like tongues and healing.

Biblical as that emphasis is, it is not the whole picture.

When Jesus describes the Spirit’s work (and he ought to know) his emphasis is different.

The Spirit comes as an Advocate. We need help in the trials of this life. The Spirit’s work is to stand beside us, like our attorney, defending us from the enemy’s accusation and arguing our case with the Judge.

And the Spirit comes as a Teacher, quietly, inwardly, helping us learn what God wants to teach us.

That may be helping us see what God is trying to get across in Scripture.
Or it may be reminding us, at just the right time, which word spoken by Jesus matters most in a given situation.
Or it may be opening our eyes to see what God is doing around us in the world.

But the Spirit comes to teach us everything — everything we need to know and understand and follow the Jesus we love.

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Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 5th Sunday of Easter, John 13:31-35

St. Pachomius (Pakhom) the Great

On the 5th Sunday of Easter, the Revised Common Lectionary stays in John, taking a leap forward (and, if you think about it, backward too) into Holy Week. The text is John 13:31-35.

On Maundy Thursday, if you remember, we heard this and an earlier portion from the same chapter (John 13:1-17, 31b-35). (And if your church is full of genuine keeners, on Wednesday of Holy week you heard the bit that Maundy Thursday leaves out: John 13:21-32).

Of course the text is John because Luke has run short on resurrection appearances, and John is always the fall back. But why this particular Maundy Thursday passage?

John 13:31-35

My guess: At week 5 of Easter we are getting close to the Ascension — just a week and a half to go. And this passage of John alludes to the Ascension:

…I say to you,

‘Where I am going,

you cannot come.’” (John 13:33 NRSV)

But that’s just my guess.

It’s a short passage, but an important one — so important, I suppose, that the creators of the lectionary didn’t want to let people miss it just because they didn’t show up for a Maundy Thursday service.

The muddle of glorification.

It is almost all one speech by Jesus. But it doesn’t start on the clearest note:

When he had gone out…” (John 13:31 NRSV)

Um… who is “he” here?

That’s kind of an abrupt entry to set the context.

“He” is Judas, actually. John has just told us that Satan has entered into Judas, and he’s gone out (with Jesus apparent approval) to betray his Lord and friend.

Then Jesus’ speech begins:

Now the Son of Man has been glorified,

and God has been glorified in him.

If God has been glorified in him,

God will also glorify him in himself

and will glorify him at once. ” (John 13:31-32 NRSV)

Actually that doesn’t make it that much clearer.

What is the “now” by which Jesus “has been glorified”?

Is it about the big turning point of Holy week itself? He has “now” finished all the regular ministry that he will do before the Cross and Resurrection — he “has been glorified” in three years of healing and teaching and feeding and welcoming. That makes some intuitive sensible.
Or is it about what has just happened? Jesus has just “now” been betrayed by a friend, which will lead him to the Cross — and by this betrayal he “has been glorified.” That’s paradoxical, mysterious.

Personally, though, I favor the second, and more mysterious answer.

It is easy to see the point of the other part of the speech, about what is still coming.  Jesus will be glorified in the Resurrection, or the Ascension that follows 40 days later — all these things still to come by which

God will also glorify him in himself…at once” (John 13:32 NRSV)

But God’s glory is not only what we see as shiny and happy. God’s glory is shown in all the ways Jesus’ life shows the truth of who God is — sometimes in shadowy mystery.

Christ, by taking the form of a servant on Maundy Thursday, revealed God’s nature as humble love — and so in washing their feet Christ was glorified.
Christ, by choosing to suffer death on a cross on Good Friday, revealed God’s nature as extreme love — and so in dying to save humanity Christ was glorified.
And Christ, by submitting himself to the grim realities of human friendship, including abandonment, denial, and even betrayal, revealed God’s nature as realistic love for human beings.

So, in being betrayed by Judas after supper, Christ was glorified.

He went the full distance in loving us. And every step of the journey revealed God’s true nature. As John put it earlier in the chapter, as an introduction to both Jesus’ washing of their feet, and Judas’ betrayal of his friend,

Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end.” (John 13:1 NRSV)

God is glorified in both the bold act of humble service, and the secret act of painful endurance — all those things reveal the true steadfast love of the Lord — which, as the Psalmist says repeatedly, endures forever (cf. Psalm 136).

New Commandment

And then we come to the part I wrote of at the beginning: Jesus alludes to his eventual ascension, or possibly to his coming death:

Little children, I am with you only a little longer.

You will look for me;

and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you,

‘Where I am going, you cannot come.’” (John 13:33 NRSV)

He knows they will face the overwhelming confusion of grief. He’ll be dead and in the tomb, down harrowing hades, then eventually going to sit at his Father’s right hand in glory.

But they will be here on earth, stuck in the hell which is waiting for a loved one who is simply gone.

Perhaps thinking it will be a healthy way to refocus their attention as they move through their grief, he gives them a plan. It comes in the form of a commandment. They already know the Ten Commandments, as well as the other laws of the Hebrew Bible, from childhood.

But now he gives them one of his own:

I give you a new commandment,

that you love one another.

Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” (John 13:34)

A command to love is still nothing new. They had all heard the way Jesus summarized all the commands in two, loving God and loving neighbor.

Jesus’ NEW thing was giving them a measure for the love they are to show each other. Jesus’ own love was to be the measure.

They will need to feed, and heal, and welcome one another.
They will need humbly serve one another, even washing each other’s feet.
They will need to steadfastly endure one another, even when one who claims to be a friend betrays them.

That’s a high bar. But that new commandment is what Maundy Thursday was all about. The “Maundy” comes from the Latin word for coMANDment.

And that is what was so important that the lectionary included it again on the 5th Sunday of Easter.

Pachomius

Historically it has been a very important command. Lord knows, people in churches do pretty awful things to each other sometimes. If Jesus hadn’t told us to lovingly endure them no one would bother.

But Jesus said this radical love would be the marker of the Christians — the way the real ones could be identified.

And there are notable examples of this working very well for evangelism.

Take one Pachomius (c. 292–348) for example.

He was an Egyptian kid who got drafted into the army. The army kept their reluctant recruits in a prison, lest they run back home.

Conditions in a Roman prison were not so great. Pachomius and the others were hungry.

But then some people came by with food. They cared for these young men in their plight.

Pachomius asked who they were. It turns out they were Christians. They took it upon themselves to love these military prisoners, to feed them because they were hungry.

Pachomius was impressed. He asked more questions. He was converted. When he got out of his military service he joined the early monks, the Desert Fathers.

But Pachomius had a new idea for monastic life: He thought they would do better in their life of prayer if they lived together in loving community. So he started the first monastery, taking on the administrative responsibility, freeing the others for prayer.

Thousands joined the movement — some 7000 according to his early biographer. Think of that impact: A leader able to convince 7000 people to give up all to serve Christ. He created a form of Christian community that lives on 1500 years later.

The monks came to think of him as their spiritual father. They called him “Abba” or “Abbot.”

History came to think of him as the father of communal monasticism, We call him “St. Pachomius.”

All because some Christians took Jesus seriously when he said to love as he had loved them.

Who knows? It might still work today.

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Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 4th Sunday of Easter, John 10:22-30

His sheep hear his voice.

On the 4th Sunday of Easter in Year C, the year of Luke’s Gospel, we turn to John 10:22-30. Why this text in Easter? God only knows.

Okay, maybe someone from committee that developed the Revised Common Lectionary could tell us, but I don’t know any of them.

It makes some sense to turn to John when Luke has run out of resurrection appearances. So you might think we’d continue in John 21 where we left off last week. Nope. The lectionary never gives us John 21:20-25.

Instead we take a big jump backwards to a text in the middle of John’s Gospel — one that neither mentions nor alludes to the resurrection.

What up?

But here we are. It is a lovely passage in itself, even if it is a tad difficult to connect with the season of Easter.

John 10:22-30

To put it in John’s context, this follows the series of scenes in chapter 9 where Jesus proclaims himself the light of the world and heals a man who was born blind to emphasize the point. In chapter 10 the conversation shifts to Jesus saying he is the Good Shepherd and the Gate of the sheepfold — two more of the famous “I Am” sayings in John.

Difficulty getting his point across

Those “I Am” sayings are like the heartbeat of John’s Gospel. While the Synoptic Gospels tell the story of Jesus’ life, plus the stories Jesus tells about the Kingdom, John lets Jesus talk about himself, his Father, and the Holy Spirit. It is the theological Gospel — and that’s why in Orthodoxy John is celebrated as “The Theologian.”

When you have a sense of all those “I Ams” and all his lengthy discourses about himself this passage passage becomes almost funny.

People come up and ask their eager question:

How long will you keep us in suspense?

If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” (John 10:24 NRSV)

Jesus’ eyes were rolling so hard they must have squeaked.

I have told you,

and you do not believe.

The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me;

but you do not believe, …” (John 10:25-26 NRSV)

And you know, he really had told people who he was.

He came right out and told the woman at the well that he was the Messiah.
He pretty much told Nicodemus he was God’s only begotten Son.
And he told them he was the True Bread come down from heaven,
the Light of the World,
the Good Shepherd.

The thing is, some people are more about having an answer and then going out to look for evidence. You can fool yourself that it’s just a hypothesis, that it is the scientific method, that you want proof — but really it’s just that minds get closed in advance. Opinions are hard to change.

For example: think social media.

Okay, I’m moving on now.

The question of who is whose sheep

Interestingly, Jesus does not just stand there and roll his eyes. He gives them a reason for their disbelief. And it is a reason that I think is very useful for Christians trying to make sense of the world.

It’s there in the rest of that verse:

but you do not believe,

because you do not belong to my sheep.” (John 10: 26 NRSV)

This is different from my diatribe about closed minds seeking evidence to confirm their opinions.

Jesus looks at the world and sees that many people, but not all, belong to him. Some of his sheep don’t know him — not yet. Those who do belong will hear when he calls.

It isn’t quite as simple as saying that the people who join the Church are “in” and those who don’t are “out.” Rather Jesus knows that many people belong to him. They’ve been given to him by the Father.

So he travels the world, calling out with his voice. And often he uses his followers to pass the message along. Those who belong to him have their inner radios tuned in to his station by default. His voice comes through. They recognize his voice calling.

Sometimes the people hearing his voice have spent a long time in the faith, and they know it is Jesus calling.
But sometimes people who know nothing of Jesus hear his voice calling — or they’ve been given a terrible impression of Jesus because we followers do such a rotten job.

His voice is familiar — but they don’t know his name.

Then they start to trace the signal.

They find him.

They start to follow the Good Shepherd — conventionally or unconventionally.

There is mutual recognition between sheep and Shepherd, regardless of anyone’s opinion.

My sheep hear my voice.

I know them, and they follow me.” (John 10:27 NRSV)

The comfort to the church

So why do I say this is a helpful, even comforting message to the Church?

Don’t be afraid, little sheep

First, for each of us who tries to follow Christ, no matter how badly, we get his powerful message that we need not worry.

So many people, in their secret hearts, are afraid that they don’t have real faith, or enough faith, or the right kind of faith. Do we really belong?

Jesus says that if we’ve somehow heard his voice, if somehow we’ve been drawn to try to be one of his sheep, then we need not worry.

No one will snatch them out of my hand.

What my Father has given me is greater than all else,

and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand.” (John 10:28-29 NRSV)

He’s pretty emphatic. Hear his voice? You’re his.

How do you know? Because in one way or another you find yourself believing in Jesus.

You find yourself believing he is who he says he is — and who the Gospel shows him to be.
You begin to take him at his word, to trust him.
You keep finding yourself trying to do what he told you to do.

Don’t be discouraged, little flock

Second, though, there is another kind of comfort for the Church in the midst of its mission.

Our mission is simply the continuation of his mission, right? He was doing the great work of God in the world, and we take our little part and do the same.

Part of his mission is doing what he did — feeding the hungry, healing the sick, casting out the demonic darkness so that the light of truth can shine in hearts and societies.

And part of his mission is telling the world the very Good News about Jesus himself — that God himself has come to earth to bring us back, to welcome us as beloved children, to lift us up to full humanity, to give us life that conquers death, to bring us forgiveness and reconciliation.

You know. Little stuff like that.

That’s irony, my friend, irony. This stuff is not little at all.

What could be bigger than the creator and sovereign ruler of all the world inviting you into his family, marrying you as his beloved, giving you eternal life and a place of intimate partnership in his kingdom?

Churches that proclaim this good news can find themselves baffled. Why don’t people respond? I mean how could anybody not respond to this offer from God?

Well maybe they don’t recognize the Shepherd’s voice.

What do we tend to do? Often, left to our own devices, we turn bitter and judgmental. We turn on the unbeliever with an attitude of condemnation.

(That doesn’t actually help with the evangelism plan.)

What does Jesus give us as comfort?

Jesus tells us it isn’t our problem, really. Our job is to tell the good news. His sheep will hear his voice.

And if people don’t respond?

Then live the good news as hard as you can. When you’ve earned the right to be heard, tell it some more.

Keep telling people. Your job is not the condemnation of non-sheep.

No. You are the welcoming committee for all who hear and respond — and the compassionate, serving, loving committee for all the rest.

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Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, 3rd Sunday of Easter, John 21:1-19

The Miracle of the Catch of 153 Fish

On the Third Sunday of Easter, Year C of the Revised Common Lectionary pitches me one of my favorite texts: John 21:1-19.

As is often the case, the choice of this particular text for this particular day of the Church year is mysterious.

Year C is, in general, focused on Luke’s Gospel, with occasional forays into John. Strangely, on the 3rd Sunday of Easter there is a text from Luke in both Year A and Year B — but not in Year C.

My best guess? Year C already gave us Luke’s very different “miraculous draught of fishes” on the 5th Sunday after Epiphany. That was the scene of Peter’s original calling. Now we hear John’s version of the miraculous catch, where Jesus renews Peter’s calling. It presents these scenes as bookends of Jesus’ earthly ministry and, more to the point, Peter’s calling.

John 21:1-19

There is a whole lot going on in this text, with great to chew on every step of the way. Overall it is in two sections:

21:1-14, The disciples go fishing
21:15-19, Jesus talks with Peter

The Disciples Go Fishing

There are many great moments in the story of the miraculous catch of fish. They all merit a slow and meditative exploration. I’ll only touch on a few.

Depression

First we see seven disciples, at least five of them Apostles, killing time by the seashore. Three of those mentioned used to fish for a living. Maybe their current lack of direction was leading them to think about the good old days.

The resurrection was exciting, but inscrutable. What did it really mean? The Christians would come to increasing levels of clarity about that in the weeks, years, and centuries to come, but it would always be mysterious.

The resurrection was also unpredictable. Sure, Jesus had appeared alive a couple of times, but would he come again? Would he stay and lead the mission? Were they supposed to get some direction from on high? Or should they try to just figure it out on their own?

Well, it appears they’d wandered all the way down to Peter’s old boat. You might think he would have sold it, or put it up in dry dock. But no. There it was, tied up by the shore where he’d left it three years ago.

Simon Peter said to them, ‘I am going fishing.’

They said to him, ‘We will go with you.’

They went out and got into the boat…” (John 21:3 NRSV)

When you are feeling washed up, abandoned, without direction, that’s what it’s like. You wander your way back to your old life — for good or ill.

They fish all night, and catch nothing. Nada. Zippo. Ix-nay on the ish-fay.

So much for the old life. Peter, James, and John must have assumed they could always go back to fishing. Now they couldn’t even do that.

Talk about depressing…

Befuddlement

The moment I love most in this story is when John tells Peter that the guy shouting from the beach is Jesus.

Peter is the perfect picture of a guy pulled in multiple directions.

Peter’s been working naked all night (no comment) so he throws his clothes on.
But Jesus is waiting on the beach and Peter has to get to him, so he jumps in the water.

Maybe all of that was culturally appropriate, but I usually take off most of my clothes to go swimming.

Symbolism

All kinds of weighty stuff happened as soon as Jesus showed up.

First Jesus called from the shore — close enough to be heard but far enough away to be unrecognizable in the dim light of dawn — and told them to cast their nets one more time, but on the opposite side.

Memory flash for Peter, James, and John.

Hey, didn’t this happen before?

says John. James pipes in,

Yeah, back in Luke 5 I think. Wasn’t that when Jesus first called you to follow him?

Peter remembers:

That’s right. Man, we pulled in a lot of fish that day.

Nathaniel, in whom there is no guile says,

I know, right? And then you just left the whole catch on the beach.

They cast the nets while they chat. Then comes trouble:

Um, Peter? I think we have a problem.

says John.

Why’s that?

asks Peter.

The net’s so full we can’t pull it in,

says James.

Wow, deja vu all over again.

Then the text picks up the conversation:

That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, ‘It is the Lord!'”(John 21:7 NRSV)

That’s when Peter jumped in and swam to shore, leaving his friends to fight the good fight with the fish.

Eventually Peter came back to help.

They were totally amazed. So many fish, but the old net held up after three years of disuse.

There were so many fish they had to count them. It’s like when you got a photo with the 10 pounder you pulled in when you were 12. John wanted to  remembered the exact number: 153 large fish.

That number is so very specific. It totally feels symbolic. Many preacherly hours have been spent pondering what the significance might be of exactly 153 fish in the disciples’ net.

Augustine (as quoted in the second volume on John in the remarkable Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture) had a heyday pondering the point.

It turns out 153 is a pretty amazing number.

1+2+3+4+5+6+7+8+9+10+11+12+13+14+15+16+17=153.

Why do we care, O Augustine?

Because 17, the final number of that sequence, is 10+7!

But why do we care about that?

Because there are 10 commandments and 7 gifts of the Spirit! (By ancient interpretation of Isaiah 11:2-3. No quibbling please.)

So… if she weighs the same as a duck, then she’s a witch.

No that’s not it.

Actually though, Augustine has a whole lot more to say, based on the properties of 50 x 3 + 3.

Very symbolic stuff:

50: The Spirit came to empower mission on Pentecost, 50 days after the resurrection.
3: The Trinity. Duh.

Numerology is often playful, sometimes inspiring, and rarely decisive.

The most interesting view I’ve found is from that venerable source St. Wikipedia. There, without noting a source, someone points our attention to 2 Chronicles 2:17-18.

When Solomon built God’s temple, 153 thousand gentiles were employed in the project. (Actually there were 153,600, but Jesus rounded it down.)

So maybe the number points us to the fact that the Apostles will soon, at Jesus’ direction, cast their nets among the gentiles — it’s all about the mission.

Three questions, one calling

The part of the passage I most love, though, is Jesus’ conversation with Peter.

Three times Jesus asks Peter if Peter loves him.
Three times Peter affirms his love for Jesus.
Three times Jesus reaffirms Peter’s calling to tend Jesus’ flock.

It is often taken as making up for Peter’s three denials the night of Jesus’ trial.

What I love, though, is hidden in English translations. The words for love make all the difference.

C.S. Lewis wrote a lovely book about the four different Greek words for love.

This passage uses two of them:

“Philea,” which is the love found in friendship — “ Phila delphia” as “City of Brotherly Love ”
“Agape,” which is the kind of unconditional love one has toward God and which God has for us.

Scholars will sometimes warn you not to belabor the differences between these words. You can find passages where they are pretty interchangeable.

John 21:15-17 is not one of those passages.

Here’s how the dialogue goes if you note the differences in the Greek vocabulary:

15 … Jesus said to Simon Peter,

“Simon son of John, do you love-me-as-you-should-love God more than these?”

He said to him,

“Yes, Lord; you know that I love-you-as-a-friend.”

Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.”

16 A second time he said to him,

“Simon son of John, do you love-me-as-you-should-love God?”

He said to him,

“Yes, Lord; you know that I love-you-as-a-friend.”

Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.”

17 He said to him the third time,

“Simon son of John, do you love-me-as-a-friend?”

Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time,

“Do you love-me-as-a-friend?”

And he said to him, “Lord, you know everything;

you know that I love-you-as-a-friend.”

Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.

So when you see the vocabulary used, you see that Jesus is bringing Peter to his knees in honesty.

Peter you’ve been so boastful, but do you love me with the right kind of love, and more than everybody else?
Fine, you don’t love more than others, but do you really have the right kind of love?
Honestly, do you even love me as a friend? (I mean look at how you denied me!)

The lovely thing is that while Jesus is bringing Peter to rock bottom honesty, he’s constantly reaffirming Peter’s calling. Every single time, even when Peter is waffling and deceiving himself, Jesus is still calling him.

In the end, Jesus accepts exactly the kind of love Peter is able to honestly offer. It’s something to work with. Peter will grow. He’ll learn to love. Meanwhile he has a calling.

That’s true for you and me too.

We may not love more than anybody else.
We may bring the wrong kind of love to Jesus.
We may have been pretty rotten friends to our Lord.

But Jesus accepts the love we are able to offer. He’ll work with us. And he will work through us.

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Monday Meditation: RCL Years ABC, 2nd Sunday of Easter, John 20:19-31

Caravaggio: The Incredulity of Thomas (public domain)

If you are wondering why the lectionary has reverted to John on the Second Sunday of Easter, the answer is easy: In the Synoptic Gospels there are no resurrection appearances after Easter Sunday.

Easter Sunday’s morning is Luke 24:1-12 — the empty tomb.
The text for Easter Evening is Luke 24:13-49, the Emmaus Road text — which took place on Sunday evening.
Luke 24:50-53 brings the Gospel to an end with the Ascension — which Luke places on that very same night.

One has to look to John and Acts for Easter as a season.

So to John we go — specifically to John 20:19-31. It is a really rich text, too easily swallowed up in the familiar story of “Doubting Thomas.” But even that highly memorable story deserves a fresh look, lest we see in it things that aren’t quite there.

John 20:19-31

It should surprise no one that Doubting Thomas gathers all our attention. The passage is chosen to include the two parallel scenes that make up this text and his story.

The first is Easter evening: The disciples are gathered in fear behind locked doors, and Jesus shows up — but Thomas is out. Maybe picking up some groceries or something, who knows?
The second is a week later, Sunday evening again, and they are still hunkered in the bunker — but this time Thomas is there.

This resurrection appearance is specifically set up for Thomas. Thomas said he wouldn’t believe unless he got to see Jesus and touch his wounds. Jesus very kindly complied.

But the richness of this story is that everything comes with an unexpected twist — and always the twist is a gift.

Twist #1: The gift of peace

When Jesus shows up, he does not jump up and shout “Surprise!”

He also shows that he’s better tuned in to human behavior than the angels. The angels always say “Be not afraid!”

That does little good if you are already terrified by towering figure in glowing garments who has materialized in your living room. It is also pretty useless to try to boss your emotions around. You can influence them by what you do, and by what you think, but you can’t just order your feelings to change.

Jesus, on the other hand, says

Peace be with you.” (John 20:19 NRSV)

He is giving them something — or calling them to embrace a gift already given. Back in the Upper Room Jesus said,

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” (John 14:27 NRSV)

They are feeling anything but peaceful, remembering mostly that the one they thought was the Messianic King had been captured and killed. They fear that the same will happen to them if they relax to the point of, say, unlocking the front door.

But Jesus wants them to know that there is reason to feel peace.

He is back — and he is the Prince of Peace.
He is risen — and though he will ascend to heaven, he will remain alive, their Messianic King over all creation.

Things can still be scary. Things can go terribly, terribly wrong. But the most important things are in place. It will be okay.

Jesus is alive, and it will all work out in the end.

If things haven’t yet worked out well, then this isn’t the end.

Twist #2: The gift of calling

When they are over their initial shock, Jesus repeats his message — with a twist.

Peace be with you.

As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” (John 20:21 NRSV)

Jesus is giving his followers another gift: a vocation, a calling, a mission.

They are, we must remember, afraid to go outside.

So when Jesus tells them he is sending them, giving them a mission, he is calling them to change their current behavior.

Here’s a bit of the secret: stepping into that calling is how they will begin to feel the peace he promised.

So listen up, O ye churches, still hunkering down behind your doors the week after Easter 2000 years later.

Jesus didn’t say he wanted to “gather” you.
He said he wanted to “send” you.

And he told them what their being sent would look like: their mission would look just like his own.

The Father sent the Son to leave the comfort of heaven and enter the squalor of the world’s need.

That’s where we gotta go. Figure out what in the world’s brokenness you can help with. Then, in Christ’s holy name, get out there and do some love.

Nothing like doing the hard thing that you know is important, that you know is true to the heart of who you are, to help you grow and thrive.

Twist #3: The gift of the Spirit

How, you ask, are you going to do that hard work of Jesus’ calling in the world?

Jesus anticipated your question.

He breathed on them and said to them,

‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’” (John 20:22 NRSV)

You will be able to live out your calling in the world because the Holy Spirit will be in you, and with you, and working through you. You’ve been given the hot sweet breath of the risen Lord, so breathe it in and be about your business.

If you are like most Protestants you think the Holy Spirit was first given, and the Church first existed, at Pentecost.

No. The Church was right there already. It just grew at Pentecost.

And the Holy Spirit was there in them already. They just received great power at Pentecost.

Actually they had considerable power already, back when Jesus breathed on them behind locked doors. That day he gave them the power of the Gospel, the power of the Kingdom. The Spirit was given so that they could do Jesus’ own work, what he was sent by the Father to do: bringing forgiveness in his name.

Twist #4: The gift of accommodation

But poor Thomas was out that evening.

When they told him they’d seen the risen Lord, he refused to believe. We call it “doubt” but that’s not quite how it was portrayed. It is more like “refusal,” or “setting up conditions.”

But then, “Doubting Thomas” has a much better ring to it than “Condition-Setting Thomas.” And we all have doubts, right?

Unless I see… and put my finger… and my hand… I will not believe.” (John 20:25 NRSV)

Thomas doesn’t want to take anybody’s word for it. He wants to trust only his own senses. And he sets up those senses of his as conditions that God must meet. Which is, I think, rather appalling.

The gracious gift of God is that Jesus actually accommodates Thomas. Jesus meets his conditions. He makes a special appearance, apparently just to let Thomas get the particular kind of evidence he insists on.

The rest of us, Jesus notes, have to make do with less accommodation. We have to put up with the fact that we hear of the resurrection from other witnesses. And Jesus says we are the blessed ones. It is a blessed thing to trust your friends who have borne witness down through the ages.

I wonder if we should take Thomas as any kind of inspiration in our own doubts.

I think most of the time we misuse the term.

We say we have “doubts” but what what we mean is we have “unanswered questions.”

Questions are good and useful. If you don’t have any questions, you never learn anything.

Not every question we ask will be answered. But we’ve been charged with loving God with our whole minds, so we need to ask the questions and probe for answers.

But we ought not do like Thomas and set up our questions as conditions for God:

Only if you do my will, O Lord, and give me the evidence I want, will I believe.

Jesus gives Thomas that evidence, but he kind or reproves him too.

The translations usually say

Do not doubt but believe.”  (John 20:27 NRSV)

But the vocabulary is more parallel:

Don’t be unbelieving, but believing.

Both the word for faith and its negation in this passage are the same at their root. In both cases it is less about the facts and more about the relationship.

Believing, having faith, trusting, is something you do.

We, like Thomas, are called to live lives of trusting God — whatever our senses say in support or contradiction.

Thomas problem of “disbelieving” was not limited to the fact that he missed the Easter evening appearance of Jesus. He distrusted what Jesus had told him in life, and then distrusted what Jesus’ other followers told him about the fulfillment of Jesus’ promise.

Twist #5: The gift of believing

And then, not quoting Jesus but commenting on Jesus’ words, John tells us why all this believing matters.

This “believing” stuff is the whole purpose of the Gospel he’s written. It is all there so you can trust the promise that Jesus is the Messiah, God incarnate, and in trusting find new life.

Because living in distrust? That’s a walking death.

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Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, Easter, Luke 24:1-12

Luke 24:1-12

The lectionary Gospel for Easter is Luke 24:1-12. (John 20:1-18 is always listed as an alternative, but this is Luke’s year, so we have an option from his Gospel.)

Caring Friends

The women planned carefully, but there was no rush. Jesus, after all, had been dead since Friday afternoon. Faithful to God’s command, they rested on the Sabbath — sundown Friday to sundown Saturday.

But they didn’t hurry to the tomb at nightfall Saturday. Maybe it wasn’t safe for a group of women to be on the streets of Jerusalem after dark. Or maybe they just knew: he would still be dead, in the tomb, on Sunday morning.

They had followed him in his ministry, two Marys, one Joanna, and others unnamed. They had started in Galilee but then went everywhere else he went.

And they had been the most faithful at the Cross.

They stayed close enough to see him hung up between criminals,
to hear him taunted,
to watch him die.

And when Joseph of Arimathea claimed Jesus’ body (strange the way Jesus’ earthly life was bracketed by men named Joseph and women named Mary) they followed again, watching to know for sure where he was lain.

They volunteered to take on the responsibility of caring properly for the body of this man they loved. They prepared the spices that were needed for burial — maybe gathering them was what they did Saturday evening, once Sabbath was over.

It was their responsibility as his community of faith. It was their act of love.

Disorienting Mystery

When they got there, though, to this tomb they’d seen, where they had watched Jesus’ body sealed behind a great stone door, it was all wrong. They didn’t even have time to wonder how they would find someone to roll that great stone away.

It was wide open.

Had someone done this for them? No: No one knew they were coming.

They stepped to the door, through the door, up to the bier that had held his body.

But there was no body. Just the cloths that had been wrapped around him.

Who had taken Jesus naked body? Grave robbers? Soldiers? The Council? Nothing made sense. Every possibility was ghastly. Their heads were spinning.

Surprising Visitors

And then the place was full of light, brighter than if they’d brought lamps. They gasped when they saw two men with light beaming from their clothing.

They knew the drill. They had to be angels.

Why do you look for the dead among the living? He is not here…” (Luke 24:4 NRSV)

Apparently even the angels were thrown off their game by the magnitude of the event: Any reader of the Bible knows that they were supposed to start by saying

Be not afraid!

And Christians still get thrown off by this surprising announcement. I think of the little church that boldly wrote those words on their big road-side sign at Easter to welcome potential visitors:

Why do you look for the dead among the living? He is not here…

Oh well.

It was better news to the women — even if it took some explaining.

The angels did explain. Jesus had risen from the grave. Remember? He had predicted the whole story that unfolded in the reading of Passion Sunday: Betrayed, handed over, tried, crucified, and now risen to life.

He’s God in the flesh, after all,” they might have gone on to clarify. “Death just couldn’t hold him.”

Myrrh-Bearing Women

It was God’s choice to give the news to these women first — these who were so faithful in following despite never being in the limelight; these women who were braver, and more dutiful than the men, coming with their spices to prepare his body.

Orthodoxy does a much better job of honoring them than does my native Protestantism. The Orthodox call them the “Myrrh-Bearing Women” and they sing of them often.

I mean every single week — every Sunday is a little mini Easter celebration, so at Vespers on Saturday night and at Orthros/Matins on Sunday morning they regularly sing

Very early in the morning,
the myrrhbearing women
were hastening to Your tomb lamenting.
But the Angel appeared to them and uttered,
“The time for lamentation has ended;
weep no more.
Go announce the Resurrection
to the Apostles.”

And that’s just one of several hymns they sing, pretty much every week, about these women who were first to receive the news of the Resurrection.

Personally I find that beautiful — and highly appropriate. Honor where honor is due.

Unbelieving Men

Unlike in Mark, in Luke the women did exactly as they were told. They rushed back to where the Apostles and others were cowering in grief and fear, and told them what they’d seen and what the angels had said.

In a way, this was the first proclamation of the complete Gospel. It wasn’t just a call to follow Jesus. They had news: Jesus has conquered death by death and now he’s alive again! New life for all has begun.

And the Apostles? They said, essentially,

Meh.

Or maybe it was

Whatever.

Or the proper paraphrase might be

I don’t believe you for a minute.

The text itself says,

But these words seemed to them an idle tale,
and they did not believe them.” (Luke 24:11)

In short: The whole community of faith blew them off.

And so, perhaps we should not be surprised when the world does not receive our Good News either, at Easter or any other time. It seems so unlikely that Jesus who died would live again. It seems so contrary to observation that death is conquered, that new life has begun.

But we should look more closely: This tendency to blow off the Good News and its messengers is something we Christians do, just like our Apostolic leaders. We don’t grasp the significance of the Resurrection most of the time.

Even if we say we believe it, we hold back from living into it — or can’t figure out how we could.

Turning Back (Partway)

It takes some doing to get a grip on Easter, the empty tomb, this whole Resurrection business. Luke shows us this: In his entire narrative of Easter morning nobody has the singularly clarifying experience of actually meeting the risen Christ.

But while the rest simply disbelieved the news of the myrrh-bearing women, Peter was at least curious — Peter, who had denied Christ three times despite his bold words at the Last Supper.

Jesus had told Peter that, when he came back to faith, he should build up the others who had also fallen away.

He’s almost ready to turn back to faith now that he’s heard the women’s news — almost.

He has to know. So he runs to the tomb. Yes — empty, just as they said. No angels though. Just linen grave cloths. He wants to believe — and he almost does.

Not quite yet though. He has a lot to think about. In Luke’s telling it seems he wasn’t ready to talk about it with the others. He didn’t go back to the gathered community. He hit the road for home (cf. Luke 24:12)

And Peter’s response is worth taking as our own model. We hear this extraordinary news much more than second hand. It is hard to believe. We too need to do what we can to check it out. Then we need time to weigh it it, to take it in.

The tomb is empty.

Some tell us Jesus is risen.

Time to get away, go home alone, and think about it.

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The post Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, Easter, Luke 24:1-12 appeared first on Gary Neal Hansen.

Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, Palm Sunday, Luke 22:14-23:56 or Luke 23:1-49 (Liturgy of the Passion)

Guercino, Ecco Homo

The Lectionary provides Palm Sunday options for churches that are not offering Maundy Thursday and Good Friday services, or who expect very small attendance relative to a Sunday service. In addition to the Gospel reading specifically focused on Palm Sunday there are two options for instead reading Luke’s passion narrative: the two versions of the “Liturgy of the Passion.”

There is the super-dooper long version (Luke 22:14-23:56).
And for the faint of heart there is the merely super-long version (Luke 23:1-49).

In either option a preacher faces an insurmountable challenge. There are too many scenes, too much action, too much evocative dialogue, and all of it pointing to the core events of salvation history.

A preacher needs to be able to focus in on one point, one narrative turn or evocative saying.

The Liturgy of the Passion

But in these huge texts of the Passion one sermon can barely recite the outline:

22:14-20: The Last Supper
22:21-38: Conversations after Supper
22:39-46: Mount of Olives (Gethsemane)
22:47-53: Arrest
22:54-62: Peter’s denials.
22:73-71: Beaten and tried by the Council.
23:1-12: Before Pilate and Herod.
23:13-25: Pilate sentences Jesus to death.
23:26-31: On the road to the Cross.
23:32-43: Crucified between criminals.
23:44-49 : Jesus’ death and responses.
23:50-56: Joseph buries Jesus’ body.

As a Pastor: The Reader’s Theatre Option

But then, when it comes to the Passion story, the text speaks powerfully on its own — more powerfully that a sermon by just about any pastor.

We somehow assume that we are only being biblical preachers if we say our own piece interpreting Jesus’ suffering and crucifixion. We think that was Paul’s approach because he said

For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified” (1 Corinthians 2:2 NRSV)

but that text is not about preaching. It is about how a Christian knows a community.

Yes, Paul did

…proclaim Christ crucified…” (1 Corinthians 1:23 NRSV)

but that doesn’t mean every sermon was about the Passion narrative. It is a statement that he does proclaim the effective work of Christ on the Cross.

No, I think if on Palm Sunday you need to use the “Liturgy of the Passion,” either the long or the short version of Luke’s Passion narrative, you would do best to let the text itself be in the foreground.

I suspect that unless you are really very skilled at oral interpretation (like trained in it, enthusiastic about it, and well received when you do it) that it is not a good idea to read the whole thing yourself.

Better to present it as “reader’s theatre.” That’s when you divide the reading of the text up among a number of readers, each of whom voices a particular part, or character. One reads the narrator, one reads Jesus, one reads Pilate, etc.

Now in Luke’s passion narrative you need quite a few people to pull this off. If you have about three disciples and about three members of the Council, then let the servants who question Peter double up as crowd voices, criminals, and soldiers you would need about twelve. (Maybe seven with the shorter reading.) But you can divvy up the parts the way you want.

Sometimes churches have the whole congregation voice the crowd bits, guiding them with a bulletin insert — and I tell you, it is moving, heartbreaking, to have to shout out

Crucify! Crucify him!

Really, even badly done reader’s theatre is better than a just okay solo reading — if the measure is whether people really hear the story and get engaged.

As a Christian: A Series of Evocative Moments

But as a Christian meditating on this lengthy narrative on my own, I’m led to ponder a rich series of evocative moments.

Every one of the twelve sections in my outline above would be fodder for a mediation and fill a blog post. But I’m not going to go there with this post.

Instead I’ll just note briefly some of the fascinating smaller moments woven into the big picture outline.

1. The first cup

In Luke 22, unlike the other versions of the Last Supper, Jesus offers two cups of wine — one before the bread and one after. The first cup (22:17-18) comes with a pledge that Jesus will not drink wine again until the kingdom comes.

It is an evocative difference. Multiple cups makes it sound even more like a Passover seder, and his promise of abstinence makes the coming kingdom feel even more imminent.

When and how does he conceive the kingdom of God coming? He’s said much about it in parables. It seems to be already present, and it seems to be still to come. It seems to come with Easter, then even more at Pentecost, and yet seems to be about his eventual return.

2. Bickering Disciples

I really love how Luke presents the conversation after Jesus says one of them will betray him (22:21-24).

First they go into an apoplexy of self doubt.

Is it me? Could I be the one who will betray him?

Why ask? Wouldn’t they know?

But then if I look in the mirror I inevitably encounter someone who could totally fail my Lord. And who has. And who will. So,

Is it I Lord?

But then, in the very next phrase, the conversation flows seamlessly from self-accusation to self-aggrandizement.

Again they argue about who is the greatest — territory they’d already covered back in chapter 9.

And isn’t that the way it works? Inside I bounce back and forth between ridiculous extremes of doubt and pride. And I don’t even notice the transition.

Jesus response is consistent: Focus instead on helping others. That’s the greatness he values.

3. The Kingdom Promise

After settling that dispute, Jesus makes the big reveal: He tells the Apostles what is in store for them in God’s kingdom (22:28-30)

It’s a pretty dramatic, radical set of rewards:

They get a kingdom of their own.
They get to sit at Jesus’ table.
They will be the judges of Israel’s twelve tribes.

Gotta say, the only one that really sounds good to me is the second one. I never wanted to be in charge of a kingdom, and I never wanted to sit in judgment.

Actually I’m plenty judgmental, but it’s something I try to fight against. And most of the tribes of Israel were long since lost to history.

But I know Jesus meant well.

He is really honoring the Apostles, lifting them up to places of honor and authority — and those words “honor” and “authority,” as a hope and a promise, are powerful.

His words indicate that the Apostles (and, by connection, we ourselves) have been given Jesus’ genuine respect. May I become worthy of that respect in time.

4. The Disciples and Violence

When the promises had been made, and Peter had been encouraged to support the others after they all fell away from him, Jesus announces a change of strategy.

No more traveling light:

Bring your money.
Bring an extra bag.
Bring your coat.

And none of this swords into plowshares stuff:

Buy a sword.

But then they take him literally. And twice he has to reign them in about it.

Nobody got excited about the call to bring money and an extra bag and a coat. No: the boys were into the weapons.

Somebody looked around. It turns out two of the Apostles were already packing.

Lord, look, here are two swords!” (Luke 22:38 NRSV — I added the exclamation point.)

Why am I not surprised?

Jesus had just told them all to get swords but he must have meant it metaphorically. It turns out two was plenty:

He replied, ‘It is enough.’” (Luke 22:38 NRSV)

Alrighty then. Put the dangerous toys away, gentlemen.

But did they get the point, as it were? No.

When they came to arrest Jesus, somebody in the Apostolic band thought

This is it! Let’s do this thing!

Or as the text puts it,

they asked, ‘Lord, should we strike with the sword?’ (Luke 22:49 NRSV)

Well at least somebody asked. But somebody didn’t wait for an answer:

Then one of them struck the slave of the high priest and cut off his right ear.” (Luke 22:50 NRSV)

They should all have waited. The answer was apparently an exasperated sigh:

But Jesus said, ‘No more of this!’” And he touched his ear and healed him. (Luke 22:51 NRSV)

So maybe those who use this passage as justification for Christians bearing arms should keep this in mind: To be really biblical about it they also need to be able to heal the injuries they inflict.

5. The Pathos and Compassion

One thing I love in this passage is the deep feeling, both pathos and compassion, woven in throughout.

Jesus in the garden is so stressed that he sweats blood. (22:44)
When Peter fulfills Jesus’ sad prediction of betrayal, Luke notes that Jesus turned and looked him in the eye — which broke Peter’s heart. (22:61-62)
As Jesus walked toward his execution, he took a moment to speak comfort and warning to the women in the crowd. (23:28-31)
And as he hung from spikes driven through his hands and feet, Jesus had the presence of mind and the depth of soul to forgive his killers and promise a penitent criminal entry to paradise. (23:34-43)

There is of course much more. But these are the little between-the-lines moments that capture my mind and heart as I spend time this week in these weighty stories.

May your Holy Week provide you opportunities for rich worship and meditation on these events which made our salvation possible and which give our new life sober hope and complicated meaning.

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I’d love to send you my Monday Meditations, along with my other new articles and announcements. Scroll down to the black box with the orange button and subscribe to my newsletter, and they’ll come to your inbox most Fridays.

The post Monday Meditation: RCL Year C, Palm Sunday, Luke 22:14-23:56 or Luke 23:1-49 (Liturgy of the Passion) appeared first on Gary Neal Hansen.