Waiting

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

May 13, 2018

7 Easter B

          The day after Ash Wednesday, I spent the whole day in the Cleveland Airport waiting for a flight to Chicago.  My very early morning flight had been cancelled by the time I got home from church Ash Wednesday evening which did not break my heart, and I was able to rebook a late morning flight easily.  However, I did not expect to get to the airport on Thursday morning and find that flight cancelled, and then the next flight cancelled, and then the next flight cancelled, all due to weather in Chicago.  The terminal was packed with people waiting to hear about a seat on the next available flight.  I was amazed by the patience of the people waiting, and the sense that we were all in this wait together.  People chatted with strangers, commiserated with people they did not know, and generally tried to maintain good humor in aggravating circumstances.  This was the day after the shooting at the high school in Parkland, Florida and I do believe the mood was a little more patient than the mood might have been, because as one weary traveler put it “If this delay is the worst thing we have to deal with, we are doing pretty well.” 

          Today is the Sunday between the Feast of the Ascension last Thursday, the day we celebrate Jesus’ ascension into heaven, and the Feast of Pentecost next Sunday when we celebrate the descent of the Holy Spirit on the disciples, transforming them into the apostles who would take the gospel out into the world.  The ten days between Ascension and Pentecost were days of waiting for the disciples who had no clue what Jesus meant when, just before he ascended, he said “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”  The disciples are waiting for something powerful to happen even if they do not know what, exactly, they are waiting for.

          The disciples teach us a bit this morning about how to wait faithfully, whether we are waiting for something fairly inconsequential like my flight to Chicago, or for something more consequential like a diagnosis, or for a baby to be born, or a wedding or a funeral, and as we wait and watch for the places where God is working powerfully in our lives now.  First, the disciples were waiting together.  Waiting is hard work, whether we are waiting for something joyful or something challenging, and sometimes God’s action in our lives is hard to see.  The disciples are also together in the gospel reading when Jesus prays for them and reminds them to whom they belong.  Jesus prays “I am not asking on behalf of the world, but on behalf of those whom you gave me, because they are yours. All mine are yours, and yours are mine; and I have been glorified in them.” Remembering to whom we belong gives us patience and courage while we wait, and our remembering is best done with others who also remember.

          Secondly, the disciples were not paralyzed by their wait.  There was work to do, as God was calling the disciples to act even as they waiting for God to act.   A 12^th disciple was needed to replace Judas so that the number of disciples would be complete again.  The criteria for the 12^th disciple were that the person be someone who had accompanied the disciples as they followed Jesus during his earthly ministry, and that the person already be witnessing to the resurrection.  The believers prayed and cast lots, and Matthias was chosen as the 12^th disciple.  The disciples’ time of waiting was a time of prayer that led to action that prepared them for the future.

          And that is the third thing the disciples teach us about waiting.  Waiting is a time for prayer and discerning what God is calling us to do while we wait.  Jesus was waiting for the crucifixion he knew was coming when he prayed for his disciples in the gospel reading.  The disciples had a decision to make in the reading from Acts and they prayed and asked God who God had chosen to take Judas’s place.  Prayer is central to this time of waiting and reminds us that God is acting in our lives now even as we wait for God to act in the future.

          We are all waiting for something, watching for God to do something powerful in our midst.  God calls us to be a community of faith where we wait together, pray together, and work together in the midst of our wait, always remembering that we belong to God, and that God is acting even as we wait for God to act.  We need each other as we wait for whatever powerful thing God is about to do in our lives as individuals and in our life together.  Into this community of faith, we will baptize Grace Andrews this morning.  She will hear the words “You are sealed by the Holy Spirit in baptism and marked as Christ’s own forever.”  Grace belongs to God.  In the baptismal covenant which her parents and godparents will make on her behalf and which all of us will renew, we will promise to continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers, and to repent and return whenever we fall into sin. In other words, we promise to come together as the Body of Christ to pray and worship, and we promise to stay together.  We also promise to proclaim the gospel in word and deed, to work for justice and peace, and respect the dignity of every human being.  All of those actions require prayerful work.  The baptismal covenant describes what a waiting, watchful community of faith looks like.  This is the community of faith into which Grace and all of us are baptized, and this is what God calls us to do and be while we wait and watch, both as individuals and as a church, for God to work powerfully in our lives.

                                                                                  Amen.

                                                                             

Shield the Joyous

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

May 6, 2018

6 Easter B

Once a month, a group of us from Christ Church gather at a local restaurant for Pub Theology.  The evening is open to anyone who is available that night for fellowship and conversation around a theological topic.  Our topics have run the gamut from “Where do we find the Promised Land” to “How do you keep holy the sabbath?” to this week’s question “What does it mean to be Easter people?”  But before we order our food or begin our conversation, we pray the beautiful and ancient evening service of compline.  In my humble opinion, compline contains one of the most beautiful prayers in our prayer book.  The words to the prayer are: “Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work or watch or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep.  Tend the sick, Lord Christ, give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous, and all for your love’s sake. Amen.”   I always think of those who work around the clock in hospitals or in public safety, those who are sick, or persecuted or oppressed, and people in war-torn parts of the world.  But in addition to praying for those in any need or trouble, this prayer also asks God to shield the joyous.  Why would the joyous show up on a list with the weary, the dying, the suffering, and the afflicted?  From what do the joyous need to be shielded? 

I am reminded of that prayer this morning when I hear Jesus say “If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love.  I have said these things so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.”  Then Jesus goes on to tell the disciples “This is my commandment-that you love one another as I have loved you.”  Like last week, our gospel reading comes from what is called the Farewell Discourse, an extended section of John’s gospel where Jesus prepares the disciples for his death.  In John’s gospel, Jesus is completely aware of his impending crucifixion.  Jesus does not ask God to take this cup from him, as Jesus does in the other gospels.  Instead, Jesus prays for his disciples, and when they go to the garden, Jesus basically goes to turn himself in to those who seek his death. 

Despite knowing all that is to happen to himself and to the disciples, Jesus tells the disciples that they are to love one another as he has loved them so that his joy may be in them and their joy may be complete.  Clearly, joy is not the absence of hardship or suffering, nor is it the kind of joy that wears off after a while, like chocolate joy, sunshine joy, or even holding a baby joy or spending time with loved ones joy.  If Jesus’ joy is to be in the disciples, that joy must have something to do with being connected to Jesus.  But what?

Jesus also says to the disciples “You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer because the servant does not know what the master is doing.  But I have called you friends because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father.”  What Jesus has told them, and prepared them for over these several chapters, is that he is leaving them.  Jesus is not calling the disciples friends in a casual, “let’s do lunch” sort of way.  Jesus is calling the disciples his friends in the deepest sense of the word.  The disciples are the people with whom Jesus can bare his soul and be vulnerable.  Jesus can speak to the disciples about abiding in his love, not as a master demands his servant do something, but as a friend implores someone to do what is best for them.  The disciples are now connected to Jesus in a new way, as trusted friends rather than as servants.

The joy Jesus wants for his disciples is the joy of being fully connected to Jesus.  That joy is not the absence of pain or suffering, but instead is a joy that makes us vulnerable to both God and the world as Jesus was willing to be vulnerable.  Jesus’ joy is a joy that takes risks for the gospel as Jesus did.  We see Peter, one of the disciples, taking a risk for the gospel this morning in the reading from Acts as he orders the baptism of all on whom the Spirit has fallen, whether they are Jew or Gentile.  While that action may seem fairly obvious to us, the baptism of Gentiles was a bold and risky move at the time.  Up until that point, baptism was only for Jews who were followers of Jesus.  What barriers do we need to tear down so that others can experience the joy of being connected to Jesus?  What risks is God calling us to take for the sake of the gospel?  Where is God calling us to allow ourselves to be vulnerable?  The joy of Jesus does the gospel work of breaking down barriers so that everyone can experience that joy.

And so, we ask God to shield the joyous.  As people whose joy is complete because we are connected to Jesus, we know that our joy is not simply for our own benefit.  That joy motivates us and sends us out into the world.  In asking God to shield the joyous, we ask God to keep the joyous safe as we make ourselves vulnerable to others in the sharing of our faith.  We ask God to protect the joyous as we take risks for the sake of the gospel.  We ask God to be our defense as we break down barriers that separate us from each other and from God.  We ask God to be our shield as we engage the joyous but sometimes costly work of being Jesus’ friends.

Amen.

Bearing Fruit

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Episcopal Church

April 29, 2018

5 Easter B

The first house Don and I purchased had a lovely back yard that was a lot like I imagine an English garden might be.  There were beautiful flowers, along with a cherry tree, pear tree, and an apple tree.  Right smack in the middle of the yard there was a grape arbor.  The grape arbor came down quickly before the forces of little boys throwing footballs, frisbees, and each other brought the arbor down.  But we kept the other trees and they bore much fruit as long as we lived in that house.

The previous owners had harvested the fruit and done a lot of canning.  My strength is baking, not canning, and involves chocolate, not apples or pears.  The trees required little care to produce copious amounts of fruit, which was generally enjoyed by the birds either before or after it fell off the tree.  Our stewardship of the trees was not optimal, to say the least, but the trees were undaunted and continued to bear much fruit, simply because that is what fruit trees do.

This morning, we eavesdrop on a tender conversation between Jesus and his disciples just before his death.  In what is called the Farewell Discourse, Jesus talks with the disciples about how they are to live as his disciples once Jesus in no longer with them.  Jesus uses the word “abide” 8 times in this passage, which gives us some clue as to how Jesus wants his disciples to live.  The disciples are to abide in Jesus and let Jesus abide in them, so that they will bear much fruit for the gospel, just as branches abide in a vine and cannot bear fruit apart from the vine. This is a lovely metaphor for the Christian life, calling us to be attached to Jesus so that we can be Jesus’ disciples and do Jesus’ work in the world.  Jesus is clear that apart from him, we will not be nourished and we will not bear fruit.

The reading from 1 John helps us understand what abiding in Jesus looks like by calling us to abide in God’s love.  Then 1 John tells us a bit about God’s love.  First, God’s love is life giving.  “God’s love was revealed among us in this way: God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him.”  The point of sending God’s only Son was so that we might have life.  Secondly, God’s love is self-sacrificing.  God sent God’s only Son-the heart of God’s heart-to give us life.  Thirdly, God’s love is a free gift.  There are no strings attached.  There is nothing in 1 John that tells us what we must do to earn that gift.  We love because we are loved, not in order to be loved.  We are called to respond to the life giving love of God by loving our brothers and sisters with that same life-giving, self-sacrificing, no strings attached love.  If we say we have love, and hate our brothers and sisters, or as last week’s reading said, ignore those in need when we ourselves have plenty, we are lying.  How can we love God, who we have not seen, if we do not love our brothers and sisters who we have seen?  1 John paints a clear picture of what it means to abide in God’s love and as people who are attached to the vine.

The story from Acts give us a clear example of what happens when we abide in God’s love and bear fruit that will last.  Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch demonstrate life-giving, self-sacrificing, no strings attached love for a total stranger.  An angel of the Lord gives Philip directions that will take Philip to an Ethiopian eunuch who had come to Jerusalem to worship.  As an Ethiopian and a eunuch, the man was something of a double outsider, even if he was in charge of the entire royal treasury.  The Ethiopian invites Philip to sit in the chariot with him, which is an act of hospitality.  Philip interprets the scriptures for him, proclaiming the good news of God in Jesus and ultimately baptizing the Ethiopian before being snatched away.  Philip’s love for God was demonstrated in his openness to the angel of the Lord who told him to travel a wilderness road for no apparent reason, his care and acceptance of the Ethiopian, and his sudden departure after baptizing the Ethiopian that left no room for any praise or credit for Philip.  The Ethiopian’s love for God was demonstrated in his openness to hearing God speak through the scriptures, Philip, and the Spirit, which led him to be baptized.  The love Philip and the Ethiopian had for God spilled over into life-giving, self-sacrificing, no strings attached acts of love for a complete stranger.  This passage reminds us that we never know who we might encounter who is thirsty for the Good News, that sharing the Good News is not always convenient, and that lives can be changed when we are willing to take a risk to bear fruit for the gospel.

The trees in our backyard so long ago bore fruit because that is what fruit trees do.  The apples, pears, and cherries were produced, not for the tree to use, but to either to be used as food for others or to produce more fruit.  Jesus tells us this morning that when we abide in him, when our branches are firmly attached to the vine, we live with live-giving, self-sacrificing, no strings attached love that will naturally bear fruit.  The fruit may or may not be the fruit we want to produce or think we need to produce.  But the fruit that comes from abiding in God’s love will be the fruit God calls us to bear.  And like Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch, that love will take us places we never imagined we would go, to encounter people we never thought of meeting via roads we never dreamed of traveling.

Amen.

Sheepfold Membership

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

April 22, 2018

4 Easter B

          Some 40 years ago, a Presbyterian Church and a Jewish temple came together for a joint Thanksgiving service.   That service has grown over the last 4 decades to include a Greek Orthodox, Roman Catholic, Episcopal, and American Baptist church along with an Islamic Center.  Every year, the clergy and various lay leaders of the different faith communities gather to plan a service in which everyone can give thanks together for our many blessings.  The service is always rich with shared stories, prayers, and music from our various traditions and each year the service is held in a different house of worship.  We learned something about ourselves and about each other as we engaged the sacred writings and traditions of other faiths.  After the service we enjoyed one another's company over coffee and cookies and we built good relationships with each other over the years.  When 9/11 and other disasters occurred, I was so grateful for these long-standing relationships.  The religious leaders could come together quickly to respond to the needs of the community, working to build unity in times that could divide.  Through our work together over the years, members of the participating congregations have developed deep respect for one another's faith.

So, I am caught up short by Peter's proclamation in the reading from Acts this morning.  "There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which we must be saved."  Peter sounds exceedingly exclusive.  There is no salvation at all for those who do not believe in Jesus?  When I would gather with my brothers and sisters of the other Abrahamic faiths at Thanksgiving, was I to believe that their faith traditions are just wrong and we Christians have the only real relationship with God?  At a deep intuitive level, that claim seems wrong to me. Fortunately, all of our readings this morning provide some context for hearing Peter's words.

          This morning, Peter and John have just healed a man who was lame from birth when we find the two disciples in prison, being interrogated by the entire family of the high priest.  The charge against the two men is first that they are teaching about the resurrection, then that they have claimed some power that does not belong to them.  Peter's defense argument is brilliant.  Peter transforms the charges against him from a charge of blasphemy to the charge that he has done a good deed for someone who was sick.  Who can argue against a good deed done for someone who is sick?  Peter's claim is that he could not heal the man by his own power, but that the lame man could only be healed by Jesus, thus proving that Jesus was the Messiah.  Peter is not speaking to the Roman Council, and he has no other faith in mind when he tells his very own people that their salvation comes through Jesus.  Peter is essentially saying "Look what amazing things God is doing in our midst!"  A few chapters later, in Acts chapter 10, Peter will say "I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him."   This morning, Peter is challenging his own people to see what Jesus is doing in their midst, and a few chapters later, Peter is clear that God shows no partiality.

The 4th Sunday of Easter, which is today, is traditionally known as "Good Shepherd Sunday."  On this Sunday every year, we hear one of the gospel stories from John that portray Jesus as the Good Shepherd.  Today, we hear Jesus say "I am the Good Shepherd.  I know my own and my own know me.  And I lay down my life for the sheep."  Over the centuries, the church has tried to figure out who, exactly, Jesus sheep are.  Who is in the fold and who is out?  The seemingly obvious answer is that Christians are Jesus' sheep.  And we are.  But Jesus also says "I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold.  I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice."  Jesus' claim is that he has sheep we don't even know about, who will also listen to his voice.  Just a few verses earlier, Jesus said "The sheep follow the Good Shepherd because they know his voice."  The very definition of Jesus' sheep is that they know his voice and follow him. That is the whole definition.  We do not get to decide who is in the fold and who is not.  Jesus does.  And in John's gospel, that news infuriates his audience.

 But to focus on the sheep is to miss the point.  The point is the Good Shepherd.  When Jesus says "I am the Good Shepherd," he is not simply saying that he will take good care of the sheep. Throughout the Old Testament, in the prophets Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel, and in the Psalms, specifically the 23rd Psalm that we read/sang this morning, God is identified as the Shepherd. In the Hebrew Scriptures, most of the work of the Shepherd has to do with justice, providing food for the poor, strengthening the weak, and binding up the injured.  When Jesus says "I am the Good Shepherd," Jesus is pointing to those very scriptures and telling his listeners that he is God.

Many chapters later, at the end of John's gospel, after Jesus has been crucified and has risen, three times Jesus will ask Peter, the same Peter we hear from in the reading from Acts, "Peter, do you love me?"  Three times, Peter will say "Yes, Lord, you know that I love you."  And each time, Jesus will respond "Feed my sheep."  Feed my sheep.  The work of the Shepherd and the work of the sheep is the same-the work of justice, feeding the hungry, strengthening the weak.  The command of the gospel is that we love Jesus by feeding his sheep, whether the sheep are starving for food, or justice, or healing, or acceptance.  As the writer of 1 John so pointedly puts it "How does the love of God abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and refuses to help?"  The command of the gospel is that we let the love of God abide in us and that we act on that love.  That is our job.  Sheepfold membership decisions are the job of the Good Shepherd.

                                                                            Amen.

Wounds

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

April 15, 2017

3 Easter B

          My friend Donna was the Executive Director of Project Woman, a domestic violence shelter and advocacy center in Springfield, Ohio where Don and I used to live.  When Donna began her work at Project Woman, the organization was a very small shelter that could accommodate only a few women and their children.  Donna poured her heart and her life into Project Woman, and by the time she retired some two decades later, Project Woman had a large shelter, transitional housing, crisis management, a 24 hour hotline, and was a thorn in the flesh of the Ohio state house where Donna advocated for better legal protection for victims of domestic violence.  Project Woman was not just a job for Donna.  The stories of the women she served were her own story.  Her life had not been an easy one. Divorce, disappointment, brokenness, betrayal, and despair were all part of her story and they were all part of what she poured into her work at Project Woman as she turned her own pain into someone else’s hope.  After Donna retired, her health began to fail.  She faced some very scary times and there were a few times when we wondered how much longer we would have Donna with us.  But time and again, she pulled through and she became a volunteer hospital chaplain, once again turning her own difficult experiences into someone else’s hope.

          This morning, the resurrected Jesus appears among the disciples. The story we just heard from Luke’s gospel is very similar to the story we heard last week from John’s gospel.  In both stories, the resurrected Jesus appears to the disciples, terrifying them.  This morning, the disciples believe that they are seeing a ghost, which is quite reasonable.  The last time they saw Jesus, the disciples had stood at a distance, watching as Jesus was crucified.  What could Jesus possibly be now other than a ghost?  As in John’s gospel, Jesus shows the frightened disciples his hands and his feet which still bore the marks of crucifixion.  By seeing those wounds, healed but still present, the disciples understand that Jesus is, indeed, fully alive in their midst.   

          Then, to further prove that he is not a ghost, Jesus asks for something to eat.  Up until now, Jesus is the one who has done the feeding, turning a few fish and loaves of bread into a meal for thousands.  Now, the disciples feed Jesus, serving him a piece of broiled fish, which Jesus eats in their presence.

          But recognizing the risen Christ goes even deeper than recognizing him by the wounds in his hands and feet and his ability to eat.  Jesus reminds the disciples of everything written about him in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms, which is to say the totality of scripture at that time.  Recognizing Jesus also comes from knowing the scriptures, the story of God’s saving work since creation.  For the writer of Luke’s gospel, all of scripture points to the suffering, death, and resurrection of Jesus.  When the disciples understand that, they will understand that the one they thought to be a ghost is actually the fulfillment of the law and the prophets.  The natural response to all that God has done from creation through the resurrection is to proclaim repentance and the forgiveness of sins to all nations, beginning right where they are standing in Jerusalem.

          The stories in the law of Moses, the words of the prophets, and the poetry of the psalms point us to the Messiah.  Those stories also connect us with stories in which the wounds of a people do not have the final word and can bring hope to others.  One clear example is the command in the book of Exodus that admonishes God’s people not to mistreat or oppress a foreigner, for God’s people were mistreated and oppressed foreigners in Egypt.  God’s people were delivered from slavery in Egypt and led through the wilderness into the Promised Land, but they have never forgotten their time in slavery.   Their sense of hospitality to strangers is rooted in their experience of being strangers themselves.  God calls them to use that corporate wound to bring hope to others. 

          The Easter message, and the message to which Scripture points, is not that there are no wounds.  The Easter message is the promise that, ultimately, neither Jesus’ wounds nor our own have the final say.  When Jesus says “You are witnesses of these things,” Jesus is stating a fact, not making a request.  Jesus is telling us that our lives, our whole lives, as individuals or as families or as a church, witness to the power of resurrection.  My friend Donna used her life to show that truth to the world, using her own healed wounds to bring hope to others.  Our lives, steeped in our relationship with Jesus and our knowledge of the scriptures, continue to tell the story that wounds do not have the final word.  Jesus states as fact that we are witnesses that forgiveness triumphs over sin, love triumphs over hate, and life triumphs over death.  We are witnesses to resurrection hope.

                                                                                      Amen.

Fear

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

April 1, 2018

Easter

          When I was a child, Easter meant two things-lots of chocolate and a scratchy white dress.  My sister and I would race downstairs on Easter morning, knowing that if we did not get to the Easter baskets before our little brother did, all the good chocolate would be gone.  Because my sister and I were the only granddaughters on both sides of the family, our grandmothers always made sure my sister and I had new white dresses for Easter, and the frillier the better in their eyes.  While we were not thrilled about the dresses, even at a young age we knew that the dresses were gifts of love and we adored our grandmothers.  Easter began and ended with chocolate, and we tolerated the dresses and soaked up the love in the middle.

          The problem with Easter in our eyes was that when Easter was over, the party was really over.  Unlike Christmas, where there were new toys to play with the next day and for weeks and even months to come, on Easter, once the chocolate was gone, which was always by bedtime if not before, there was nothing left but the dress, and we were plenty happy to put the dress away for a while.  Easter was wonderful, but the celebration was completely over the very next day.

          This morning, we hear an Easter story that almost seems to be over before the story begins.  Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome are on their way to the tomb with the sad duty of anointing Jesus’ body for burial.  They are heading to the tomb even though they know full well that Jesus’ body is behind a stone they cannot move.  So, why are they going?  They are neither the first nor the last grieving people to do something that makes no sense!

          When they arrive at the tomb, much to their surprise, the stone has been moved.  Either someone else has come to anoint the body ahead of them, or someone with malicious intent has rolled the stone away.  The women are clearly alarmed when they enter the tomb, where they find a young man dressed in a white robe who gives them this message: “Do not be alarmed. You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth who was crucified.  He has been raised.  He is not here….But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee. There you will see him as he told you.” 

          Jesus is not here.  He has been raised.  We come to church on Easter expecting to see the empty tomb and hear those very words.  We celebrate with festive music, alleluias, and gorgeous flowers.  But the women were taken by complete surprise and have a most different reaction.  The women fled the tomb, for terror and amazement seized them, and they said nothing to anyone for they were afraid.  And those are the final words in Mark’s gospel.

          The women have been criticized relentlessly in the commentaries over the years, having their faith and their discipleship called into question.  Despite the direction of the young man in the tomb to go tell the disciples and Peter, the women fled and said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.  What kind of faithful response is that to the good news that Jesus has been raised from the dead?

          In the interest of full disclosure, I have to tell you that this is my absolute favorite Easter story.  If the women really understand that Jesus has been raised from the dead, that the bonds of death have been broken and the power of death has been overcome, then they understand that the world has been turned upside down. Now they live in a world where anything is possible and death no longer has the final word. If resurrection can happen, what else is possible? All of the rules are changed now. How do we live in a world like that? Terror and amazement seem to me a perfectly appropriate immediate response to this brand new reality. The women actually understand the far-reaching implications of resurrection.  We know that the women did not keep their silence forever, because we are here. The shock value of resurrection may be lost on us all these years later, but the women understood that nothing, nothing, will ever be the same. I think Mary, Mary and Salome are the ones who actually understand the impact of the Easter message.

How do we live in a world in which Jesus is risen from the dead? We have the gift of hindsight, which the women did not have. The women kept walking to the tomb even though they had no idea how they would move the stone from the entrance to the tomb.  Easter happens every time we keep walking toward challenges that seem impossible, knowing that there is no stone we must move by ourselves. The women were alarmed by the empty tomb. We are blessed with the knowledge that the tomb is empty, but Easter happens every time we join the women in beholding the magnitude of what God has done for us in raising Jesus from the dead. The women fled from the tomb in terror and amazement at the news that Jesus was now in Galilee.  Easter happens every time we go out to meet Jesus in the Galilee of our own lives, the very ordinary places where we live and work day in and day out.  Easter is not just a day with lots of chocolate and scratchy new dresses, or lots of chocolate, wonderful music, beautiful flowers, and the return of the Alleluias.  Easter is a way of life, in which we find Jesus, not sealed in a tomb, but meeting us where ever we go, what ever challenges we face, and promising that there is no stone we must roll away alone.   

                                                                                   Amen.                                                                                            

Journey

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

March 25, 2018

                                                                 Palm Sunday

When Slocomb and Caldwell, our two sons, were in high school, I took them to a political rally.  Several hours before the rally began, a long line had formed in front of the security entrance, where guards were stationed with security wands and all bags had to be checked.  Once we finally cleared security after about two hours in line, we had to find our assigned area in the crowd.  The challenge was to find a place to stand with no one holding a large sign in front of us.  This was an almost impossible task, especially since some of the signs were taller than I am.  The roar of the crowd was so loud that the only way the kids and I could communicate was by text message.  Once the speakers arrived, everyone pretty much quieted on cue, anxious to hear what the speakers had to say, and hear their promises about how tomorrow might be different.  Some people were there to hear the speeches; others were there to experience the excitement.  Still others probably came just to witness the sheer spectacle of the event or to sell their various political buttons and banners. 

This morning, we witness yet another political rally. This one, however, appears a little more spontaneous.  The only preparation was Jesus sending two disciples into the village to find a colt for Jesus to ride.  A very large crowd appears to form out of nowhere, clocks are spread on the ground, and branches are cut from the trees. As if on cue, the crowd erupts with shouts of Hosanna: “Hosanna!  Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!  Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!  Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

One of the most curious things about this event is that Jesus allows it to happen at all.  In fact, the procession appears to be his idea.  He is the one who sends the disciples to fetch the colt in the first place.  This is the same Jesus who was tempted in the wilderness after his baptism.  In Mark’s gospel, we are not about the specific temptations, but in Matthew and Luke, Jesus is tempted with glory and authority over all the kingdoms of the world.  Jesus replies with the words from Deuteronomy “Worship the Lord your God and serve him only.”  In all the gospels, Jesus declined to draw attention to himself and pointed the attention to the Kingdom of God.  Just a few verses before our gospel story this morning, Jesus said “I have come not to be served, but to serve, and to give my life as a ransom for all.”  How odd that Jesus, who has resisted power and glory throughout the gospel, will now allow himself to be the center of so much attention, the object of the disciples’ praise, and to move toward Jerusalem in seeming triumph.  

“I have come not to be served, but to serve, and to give my life as a ransom for all.”  When the disciples and the crowds rally around Jesus on the road to Jerusalem with shouts of praise, the words that Jesus spoke just a few verses ago are the last thing on their minds.  They are moving with Jesus toward Jerusalem where they have every hope that Jesus will do what King David did and make Israel a great and mighty kingdom again.  They are filled with hope that a better future is at hand.  Why, then, will we soon hear the “Hosannas” replaced with “crucify him!”

The reason, perhaps, is that the people who treat Jesus like a king want Jesus to go on their journey with them, rather than going with Jesus on his journey.  And perhaps the reason Jesus allows this procession to happen is because joining a parade is the only way people will follow him on his journey.

Palm Sunday calls us to go with Jesus on his journey, to make his journey our own, rather than to try to take Jesus where we want to go, even when the places we want to go are good and noble places.  Palm Sunday calls us to walk with Jesus on the journey through the last supper, his arrest and trial, his crucifixion and burial in the tomb, not because this path is easy, powerful, or glorious, but because Jesus’ path is the only way to resurrection.  There are no short cuts.  Jesus wanted the disciples and the crowds to follow, and Jesus wants us to follow, so that we will know and understand the king who came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for all.

Amen.