Easter Sunsay

Easter Sunday rolls around each year and for me it is a challenging Sunday to preach. How do I find the right words to convey the joy that comes with this day? Especially when I’ve heard the story all my life and the logical part of my brain says, “really, Jesus died, he was dead and three days later came back to life. Really?”  Then my faith reminds me Easter Sunday joy just doesn’t make sense. We can understand resuscitation. We see it on all the hospital dramas. People flat line their hearts stop and then paddles come out and that flat line starts to flutter. Resuscitation we can understand – it is a medical miracle.  But resurrection is another matter altogether. 

Resurrection is three days dead and all of sudden living, breathing, walking, talking. Resurrection is coming back to life – not like the in zombie movies and tv shows but to fullness of life. Not just existence but life filled with joy, possibility and hope.  It does not make logical or rational sense. So is it any wonder that Mary didn’t recognize Jesus and thought he was the gardener?

After finding the stone rolled away and the tomb empty, Mary runs to find Peter. “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” (John 20:2) she tells Peter.  Peter and the other unnamed disciple run to the tomb finding nothing but linen wrappings and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head rolled up in a place by itself. The two disciples not knowing what to make of the scene left and went home. Mary stayed. Mary always stayed. 

She stood outside the tomb weeping. Waiting. Watching. Finally Mary looks inside the tomb but filled with grief she can’t make sense of the linen wrappings. She hardly notices the two angels who ask her what is wrong but all she can manage to say is, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” (John 20:13) Then comes another voice that Mary thinks comes from the gardener, saying, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” (John 20:15) Hoping to find answers Mary says, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” (John 20:15)

What happens is amazing. Jesus says, “Mary!”  And somehow in hearing her name spoken everything is clear. It is because of this moment that John’s account of the resurrection is my favourite. A split second and one word transforms grief into joy. Mary hears her name changes her weeping to joy. Jesus says, “Mary!” and she turns and says “Rabbouni. Teacher” Nothing is the same again. Mary runs to the disciples and announces, “I have seen the Lord.” (John 20:18) 

Peter Buehler says, “Easter is an event beyond seasons, beyond time and space. Easter is resurrection: impossible hopes made possible by the power of Christ raised from the dead.” (Peter Buehler, Further Up And Further In! www.sermons.com)

We may not be able to logically explain resurrection and what happens at Easter. It is divine mystery. But we do know those holy moments like the moment Mary hears her name and her life changes.  Like those moments when we feel God’s presence. We remember that with God all things are possible – even if we can’t explain and we don’t understand it. Dead people stay dead except when God enters in and breaks all the rules and changes everything. And because Jesus is risen death loses its sting and holy mystery opens for us a life filled with hope and joy. In some divine mysterious way God changes everything. The tomb is empty. Jesus Christ is risen. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Say Something

One of my favourite childhood memories was the annual natal day parade in Halifax. The parade route started so close to my house you could hear the bands warming up. In my memory it was always a warm sunny summer’s day. My brother and I would sit on our front step waiting listening and then run down to the end of the street to watch the floats and my favourite pipe and drum bands march past us. There is so much joy in a parade – the music, the laughter, the children.   

Do you suppose that this is what the very first Palm Sunday parade was like? This parade didn’t have an organizing committee with a date set in advance – it was a spur of the moment kind of parade. By the time we arrive at our reading for today the stage has been set. There’s been miracles, the feeding of the 5000 and Lazarus was raised. The Pharisees and the high priest Caiphas sent out the word that they wanted Jesus arrested and they will pay for information. But the crowds who heard that Jesus was going to Jerusalem for the festival had something else in mind. 

They took branches from the palm trees and went out to meet him. In Jesus’ day Palms were a universal sign of victory whether it was athletic or in battle. Jesus finds a donkey which all the kings of the Old Testament rode. Horses were used for war. Jesus rides the donkey as the crowds yell, “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord—the King of Israel.” (John 12:13)

It’s a parade with a whole lot of expectations of a world and lives changed.  You can hear it in the cries of the crowds who gathered there that day. Hosanna quite literally means “save us.” As Jesus rides on the donkey, they cry out, “Save us the one who comes in the name of the lord. Save us king of Israel.”  The expectation rings out in every word and with every wave of the palm branch. The crowds expect Jesus is the one who will save them from the Romans and save them from their lives. 

The disciples hoped? knew that Jesus was the one to save their people from the heavy hand of the Romans who ruled the land. They hoped Jesus was the one who would end their misery. The same is true for us today. Scott Black Johnson writes: “When we wave our palms and boldly cry out, "Hosanna," do we dare imagine what we really want God to save us from? Save me from anger. Save me from cancer. Save me from depression. Save me from debt. Save me from the strife in my family. Save me from boredom... Save me from the endless cycle of violence. Save me from humiliation. Save me from staring at the ceiling at three a.m. wondering why I exist. Save me from bitterness. Save me from arrogance. Save me from loneliness. Save me, God, save me from my fears. Please God take the broken places that will tear us apart and make them whole. We beseech you, God, jump into the water and drag our almost-drowned selves to shore. "Save us." "Hosanna." (www.sermons.com)

Palm Sunday is more than the sweet band of children waving palm branches. It is an invitation to let Jesus come into the broken places in our lives. The disciples did that – they were people on the margins. Tax collectors that no one wanted to socialize with and people with demons that needed to be cast out and fishermen and people longing for something new. Peter followed Jesus from the start. He loved Jesus and he probably waved the palm branch harder than anyone else. Peter is at once the disciple who is closest to Jesus – who gets what Jesus is all about and the one who understands least. 

After the parade, Jesus takes his disciples aside and begins to teach them about what is to come next – how to live when he is no longer with them. Jesus washes their feet. Reminds that they are called to serve others. Gives them the commandment to love one another just as he has loved them. Peter asks “Lord, where are you going?” (John 13:36) But it is nowhere the disciples can follow. Peter jumps in, “Lord, why can I not follow you now? I will lay my life down for you.” (John 13: 37) Jesus looks at Peter and says, “Will you lay down your life for me? Very truly, I tell you, before the cock crows, you will have denied me three times.” (John 13:38)

We know the story – the painful cries of holy week. It is the ones like Peter who would follow him the ends of the earth who cry crucify and deny. In Peter’s story we find our own. Most of us long for that saving power to fall on us, to pick us up, to heal us and at the same time when it gets hard we say good bye. It is easier to go back to familiar ways. Peter is the rock upon which the church is built and the one who denies Jesus three times.

The days between Palm Sunday and Easter Sunday are sobering days. It is in going through the pain and sorrow of this time that we arrive at the good news of Easter. There are no short cuts only the promise that the hope will come. I’m about play you song. I’d heard it many times but one day as I pulled into the parking lot on Bannerman Street I heard something new. I heard Peter as he followed Jesus in the shadow of the cross. I heard my story. I heard our story as we wait in the shadows for the joy of Easter Sunday. 

Say something, I'm giving up on you
I'll be the one, if you want me to
Anywhere, I would've followed you
Say something, I'm giving up on you

And I am feeling so small
It was over my head
I know nothing at all

And I will stumble and fall
I'm still learning to love
Just starting to crawl

Say something, I'm giving up on you
I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you
Anywhere, I would've followed you
Say something, I'm giving up on you

And I will swallow my pride
You're the one that I love
And I'm saying goodbye

Say something, I'm giving up on you
And I'm sorry that I couldn't get to you
And anywhere, I would have followed you
Oh-oh-oh-oh say something, I'm giving up on you

Say something, I'm giving up on you
Say something. (A Great Big World) 

Living Faith

Today our journey begins. It is the first Sunday in Lent – special time set reflect on deep maters of life and faith. Wednesday on CBC’s lunch hour call-in show there was a discussion with people all across our province about Lent and whether or not people were observing the season. Some people called in to say they were giving up a whole variety of food items – chocolate being the top. Others talked about it being 40 days of compliments and others said they were adding something extra during this season. One person called or emailed in saying that Lent is irrelevant, antiquated and something only old people do. No surprise in the fact that I disagree. Lent is beautiful season.  A time set aside to dig deeper into our faith. It begins with a time to remember our human frailty on Ash Wednesday and then a whole 40 days to draw closer to God.

Nadia Bolz-Webber writes this about Lent, “Lent isn’t about punishing ourselves for being human – the practice of Lent is about peeling away layers of insulation and anesthesia which keep us from the truth of God’s promises. Lent is about looking at our lives in as bright a light as possible, the light of Christ.”

www.patheos.com/blogs/nadiabolzweber/2014/03/ash-wednesday-sermon-on-truth-dust-babies-and-fltuunerals/#disqus_thread

Lent is not antiquated or something no one does – it is counter cultural. When all the world around us sends message that defines our self-worth by the stuff we can accumulate. Lent reminds us that we are dependent on God’s love for us in Jesus. Lent asks us remember those who are suffering in our world. Lent reminds us that at the heart of faith is love for God and love for neighbor. Lent is an invitation to a Living Faith.

For the season of Lent we are going to explore that living faith with music and faith stories from around the world. And we do indeed have a living faith – don’t believe the rumours that the church is dying. Changing maybe but not dying. We have a living faith. Every day people in this community live out their faith through prayer, worship and acts of loving kindness. A living faith has many faces. It caring for those in our midst. It is the work done at Stella Burry where we are reminded that “hope lives here.” It people volunteering and bringing food for Bridges to Hope. It is raising money and bringing food so our school children have enough food to eat. A living faith is found as we worship on Sundays, as we care for friends and neighbours, as we try to make our world a better place.

That living faith is at work in places around the world as Christians gather to worship and care for their neighbours. James Murray a United Church minister shared this on the World Day of Prayer, “Back on New Year's Eve in 2010, a group of Islamic radicals bombed a Coptic church as Christians were gathering in worship. Dozens were killed in the attack. A week later, when the same Christians gathered to celebrate Christmas as they do on January 6^th, a group of Muslims formed a human chain around their churches to protect their neighbours as they prayed. A few weeks later the Arab Spring uprising came to Egypt. People gathered in Tahrir Square to demand democracy and freedom. And as the Muslims there bowed for their daily prayer, Christians held hands to form a human chain to protect their neighbours as they prayed. Only God has the power to bring us together.” (James Murray, World Day of Prayer)

 A living faith starts with a strong foundation – a relationship with God. It is easy when reading John’s gospel to get lost in the long narratives. Let me help set the scene. Jesus had just fed the multitudes who’d come to hear him preach with two loaves and five fish. Amazing. So the crowds have eaten. Jesus then goes on to with a new teaching. You know it is going to be a powerful message every time Jesus begins with the words, “I am” We hear a few times. I am the living water. I am the good shepherd. It reminds of the time when Moses asked to know God’s name and the answer was “I am who I am.”

Well now that the “I am” is walking and talking in the person of Jesus it is getting fleshed out a bit. Today Jesus says, “I am the bread of life.” At first glance that may seem simple. But the reminder that Jesus is the bread of life is a promise for daily life. Bread is a staple food. When I think of bread, I remember the smell of my mother’s homemade bread and the taste of that bread still warm form the oven with melted butter. Bread is a staple food.  

Bread is the food for life. So Jesus says “I am the bread of life.” And no one really understands what he is talking about because it is such a strange thing to say. So he tries to explain saying, “I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.” (John 6:51)

Today as we gather at the table we are reminded that Jesus is the bread of life. The one who sustains each day. When we eat the bread and drink from the cup, we are reminded that God is with us. Today cup we are using for communion today is called “the Bent Chalice.” It is bent because it is a reminder that all of us come to the Lord’s Table bent and broken in need of grace. The Potter describes it this way, “The bent chalice is a visual reminder that all people of faith can come the Welcoming Table just as they are bringing whatever broken pieces of life, whatever isn’t perfect, and whatever doesn’t measure up ... and know that we are created in the image of The Holy.” (Dancing Fiddler Potter)

            Each of us comes the Lord’s Table in our own way recognizing that through some mystery we can’t quite name we meet God. Strengthened by gifts of bread and wine we are renewed to live out our faith in ever new ways. Amen.

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust

In the past few weeks I’ve had a good reminder that there is truth in the words “You are dust and to dust you shall return.” The first happened at a funeral. I was with a family at the committal in the cemetery. Her sons had placed the casket. I moved my foot and before I knew what was happening my feet were dangling in the grave. I’ve been joking ever since that day I turned forty and now look I have one foot in the grave. But for a brief moment, in that split second mixed emotion where I was embarrassed, I scared of falling all the way in, there was something else. A reminder that life is unpredictable and that there are no guarantees. As we say in the funeral liturgy “All of us go down to the dust.”

The second reminder of this came courtesy of Facebook. A facebook friend found an old thumb drive with pictures from about 12 years ago. She posted them and as I scanned the pictures there was a younger version of myself smiling back at me. We are given a mere handful of days. We don’t stay same in those handful of days – lines from laughter and tears marks our faces. Responsibilities shift and change with each passing day. Joys and sorrows mix and mingle as we live taking each day as it comes.

Ash Wednesday is a reminder of all these things – life and death, pain and joy. Amy Biancollie in her blog “Figuring. Shit. Out. Life seems to dish it out. I seem to write about it.” writes beautifully about scars those you can see and those that can’t be seen with eyes.

“My biggest scars show no outward trace. But in the two and a half years since my kids and I absorbed the sudden blow of losing [my husband] Chris, a rough but healing dermis has formed around that wound, as well. A whole lot of life has occurred between then and now. The grief is still there. We can put our fingers on it, feel the bone beneath it, see the pucker of skin around its glossy ridge. It never fades, not completely — and it can hurt like hell during a flare-up. But our lives have grown around it. And thank God, they just keep growing.” (http://figuringshitout.net)

Scars are reminders of the healing that comes after nights of sorrow. Scars show how far we’ve come. In those painful moments before the scars are formed we need some help from friends and from God. We’ve done a really good job in the church of turning Jesus into a meek and mild with children sitting on his knee. But when it comes to dealing with hard topics like life and death and human failings, most of us need, want more. We need the Jesus who stands against death and destruction. We need the Jesus who eats with sinners and tax collectors because they are his people. We need the Jesus who is not afraid of those things in our world that tare down, destroy, and bring pain.

Jesus is the guy in the sheepfold fighting off the bandits and the thieves. It doesn’t say who exactly the thieves and bandits are but we can guess. They are pain causers, heartbreakers, the life destroyers. And Jesus is right there in it with us. Fighting the thieves and bandits. Reminding us that we are not in this alone.  Jesus is with us when things don’t work out, and on terrible days and when death comes. Jesus says, “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly. I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.”

The job of the shepherd is to guard the lives of the sheep. And that is good news for us. We are the sheep. Jesus the good shepherd stands with us. There is no instant cure to those things the hurt and destroy but there is the assurance that we are not alone. Jesus reminds us daily, “I came that you may have life, and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10)  Amen.

Faith is a Journey -- March 2nd

Today’s gospel reading from John is so simple that it is easy to skip it. Not only is it short but it sounds like other stories we’ve heard. After spending a few days in Samaria, Jesus heads back to his home turf in the area of Galilee. Today’s story takes place in Cana where Jesus turned the water into wine at the wedding banquet.

John doesn’t say what Jesus is doing in Cana only that a royal official from Capernaum comes to see Jesus. His son was at home dying. The royal official with all his prestige and money, had a problem that no amount of money or connections could fix. His son was at the point of death. Desperate times call for desperate measures. The royal official heard about Jesus – about his words and deeds of power. He thought maybe if he asked, no if he begged Jesus would help his son. He finds Jesus and begs for his son’s life.

We parents will do anything for our children – especially when they are sick. It seems as though Jesus is indifferent to this man’s plight. He says, “Unless you see signs and wonders you will not believe.” (John 4:48) The royal official is not put off by his indifference. The royal official persists. He says, “Sir, come down before my little boy dies.” (John 4:49) Jesus does not give the man what he wants but he gives him promise – something he can’t even see. Jesus says, “Go; your son will live.” (John 4:50) The royal official has a choice he can give in to despair or he can go home trusting in that promise.

Put yourself in the royal official’s shoes – maybe you’ve been there with your own child or a loved one. Your child is sick – to the point of death. Nothing seems to be working. Everything has been tried. But you hear about this guy – who from all accounts is more than just a prophet but God in human form. He’s in the neighbourhood and you go and beg for help. The words fall from your mouth, your little child whom you love, who you would give your life for is dying, please come, please help. And the only answer you get is indifference. Like a wall of silence from God.

So you beg again. Hoping that he’ll hear your desperation. Hoping that he will come and touch your child. Instead you are given the promise that if you go your son will live. Decision time. Do you go and believe this man’s word or do you give up? Maybe you like the royal official decide to walk the road of faith and walk the many miles to your home again not knowing if that word, that promise is true.

It is a heart wrenching scene. The royal official does not give into despair. He chooses the path of faith. It says, “The man believed the word that Jesus spoke to him and started on his way. It must have been the longest journey of his life – he probably couldn’t walk fast enough. As he walked his slaves met him and told him his son was alive. When he asked the when his son started to get better they said, “Yesterday at one in the afternoon the fever left him.” (John 4:52) The same time Jesus said, “Your son will live.”

God does not always answer us in the ways that we expect. Sometimes that wall of silence is really a promise. Sometimes new life comes in disguises that are hard to recognize. Nadia Bloz-Webber writes in her book Pastrix “New doesn’t always look perfect. …New looks like recovering alcoholics. New looks like reconciliation between family members who don’t actually deserve it. New looks like every time I manage to admit I was wrong and every time I manage not to mention when I’m right. New looks like a fresh start and every act of forgiveness and every moment of letting go of what we thought we couldn’t live without and then living without it anyway. New is the thing we never saw coming—never even hoped for – but ends up being what we needed all along.” (Pastrix p. 177)

The royal official got just that – what he didn’t even know he needed. Not only did his son live, but the royal official and his whole family got a new way of living.  He went to see Jesus expecting that he would come and lay hands on his son. Instead he was given a new way of living. Faith is not an answer it is a way of life. It is leaving not knowing whether or not his son will live but taking each step trusting in the promise that God is with us.

It is the same lesson that the disciples learned as they climbed the mountain. Peter, James, John and Jesus climb the winding trail that leads to the top of Mount Tabor not knowing what to expect or where Jesus is taking them. With each step they get increasingly short of breath. Jesus doesn’t seem to mind though. He is on a mission. His footsteps are steady. Jesus never seems to lose his breath or heart.

            At the top of the mountain, the disciples look down at the planes below and in the next instant Jesus’ face is shining like the sun and his clothes are dazzling white. It hurts the disciple’s eyes to look at Jesus. They squint to keep the radiant light from blinding them, Moses and Elijah appear and they are talking to Jesus.

            Their knees are shaking and hearts are racing. There is fear and wonder at the same time. Peter says, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish I will make three dwelling places here, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.” Peter keeps on talking, babbling because he’s nervous. Then a voice says, “This is my Son, the beloved, with him, I am well pleased, listen to him.” Peter, James and John fall to the ground, shaking with fear. After a couple of minutes, Jesus touches their shoulders and says, “Get up and do not be afraid.”  Then it all disappears and what remains is the feeling of standing in the presence of God most holy.

A moment spent with the holy and living God changes our lives – we are never the same again. The royal official knew or why else would he have headed home? The disciples knew it or who else could they have followed Jesus each day?

Faith is a daily journey with moments of great faith, periods of doubt and instances where God comes close. We cannot predict the days or times when these things will happen. We can’t always live in the shinning beauty of what happened when Jesus was transfigured. Those holy moments come and go. Faith is found as we climb to the top of the mountain and in the winding road that leads down into the valley. Faith is trusting in the promise of the one who offers new life. Faith is trusting that God is always there to give us what we need. So let’s go trusting, doubting, praying, working, building, knowing that God meets us wherever we are on the way today and every day. Amen

February 23 Sermon

Every four years it seems that we pause as a country to watch the Olympics. I love keep up with the results and watching just about every sport. It is the only time that I watch hockey. There is something special about watching the joy as our fellow Canadians achieve their goals and sharing in the sorrow of when it does not go as planned. While I tune in every four years to watch these sports, the athletes spend countless hours working, training and living their sport. I can’t begin to imagine what kind of dedication it takes to become a top ranked athlete who has the skills to compete at the international level. It is a labour of love.

            In many ways it is like the work of faith. Faith is a gift but it also requires work, time and dedication. It means being open to challenge and change. It means having the courage to get up again when life’s hard knocks come our way. Our gospel reading today tells just that kind of story.    

            She was a woman with no name – she probably did but it is not recorded.  She was from the wrong country. So she was of no account – except for the fact that she was the first one Jesus told the truth about who he was. Except she was the first person in John’s gospel to invite others to come and see Jesus. Except that even without a name and being from the wrong country her story has been told by generations and generations of believers.

            It is midday – high noon. Jesus is travelling from Judea back to Galilee. On the way, they stopped in a Samaritan city. This was a challenging place to stop because although both Jews and Samaritans believed in the same God they lived out their faith in different ways. Which means that the two peoples hated each other. They wanted nothing to do with each other.

            Jesus is at Jacob’s well – the disciples had gone to the closest city to find food. Jesus is taking a breather. A Samaritan woman comes to draw water from the well. What happens next breaks every rule. Jesus says, “Give me a drink.” (John 4: 7) Sounds innocent enough doesn’t it? But she is a Samaritan and he is Jew. They do not talk to one another. But even greater than that men and women unless they are related do not talk to one another. And they are at a well.

            Wells are significant places in the bible. They mean someone is getting married. It is like when you know who is going to fall in love in the movies based on how much the two hate each other or that special music or the slow motion meeting. Some pretty important people met at wells – think Jacob and Rebecca. A man and a woman at well in the bible means someone is getting married. Everyone in the story knows it.

            The woman can’t believe it and she says it, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” (John 4:9)  She asks good questions. This woman with no name could have just walked away, instead she wants to know more. As Jesus and the woman talk, it becomes clear that she’s had a hard time in life. She’s had five husbands – that means five funerals, five heartbreaks. A woman without a husband then was in a precarious place. She found herself in that hard place five times.  

Barbara Brown Taylor in her book An Altar in the World writes, “The practice of getting lost has nothing to do with wanting to go there. It is something that happens, like it or not. You lose your job. Your lover leaves. The baby dies. At this level, the advanced practice of getting lost consists of consenting to be lost, since you have no other choice. The consenting itself becomes your choice, as your explore the possibility that life is for you and not against you, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary.”

 

            The woman in our story must have refused to stay lost. Every time she picked herself up again and kept going. This is one of the hardest things to do. Now here she is standing at the well with Jesus talking about deep matters of faith. Hearing the promise that soon nothing will divide his people from her people. Hearing that the living water Jesus has is for her. Knowing that Jesus see her as someone of value.

            Jesus says, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.” (John 4:14) The woman goes back into the village and tells her story to anyone who will listen. “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?” (John 4: 29) At her word the people form the village came to meet Jesus and hear him speak. Because of her invitation, many people came to believe in Jesus. Amazing.

            This woman with no name invites us to come and see Jesus. The one who knows everything about us. The one who loves us and invites us to come and drink the life giving water that sees us through life’s ups and downs. Now that is a promise. Joyce Cowley inspired by this passages wrote the poem “The Quiet Pool”

There is within each of us

a quiet clear pool of living water

fed by one deep Source

and inseparable from it’

but so often hidden

by a tangle of activity

that we may not know

of its existence.

 

We can spend the proverbial forty years

wandering in strange deserts,

sinking unrewarding wells,

and moving on, driven by our own thirst,

but when we stop still long enough

to look inside ourselves, really look

beyond our ideas about water

and what and where it should be,

we discover it was with us all the time,

that quiet clear pool which is ageless,

the meaning of our existence

and the answer to all our wanderings.

 

And as we drink,

we know what Jesus meant when he said

we’d never be thirsty again.

 

The invitation to a life of faith comes with the blessing of living water. It does not mean that it will be an easy road. It does mean that we won’t be alone. Like athletes preparing for sports, we prepare for a life of faith in prayer, in caring for others and by giving thanks that with Jesus we will never be thirst

February 9th Sermon

In John’s Gospel this story of the cleansing of the temple marks Jesus letting the world know that he is God’s son. We’ve had some clues about Jesus. There is the invitation he gives to his first disciples to come and see, there is the gift lavish gift of joy in the gifts of water turning into wine. But it seems like it is all leading to this particular moment and place.

            The place is important – it is the temple mount in Jerusalem.  Today it is home of the Wailing Wall where people from all over the world come and tuck their prayer requests into the wall. It is home of Al Aqsa mosque where the Prophet Mohamed was transported in a dream from Meca. It is a place considered holy by Christians as they retrace Jesus’ footsteps, to Jewish people who pray at the wall, and to Muslims who make pilgrimages to the mosque.  

            In legend it is connected to one of the rivers flowing through the Garden of Eden. It is home of Mount Moriah where Abraham bound Isaac. It is where David brought the ark of the Lord – God’s presence and where Salomon built the temple. It was the centre of faith until the Babylonians destroyed the temple and is later rebuilt. It is the place where earth and heaven meet.

            Just before Passover, the celebration of God leading the people to freedom in the Promised Land, Jesus and his disciples go to Jerusalem. People from near and far were gathered for the Passover celebrations.  When they arrive at the temple, the first thing that Jesus sees is the normal business of the temple. He’s probably seen it most years as comes for holy days at the temple. The money changers, the people selling animals for sacrifice. Something happens with Jesus. It is not clear what. He makes a whip, he drives them all out of the temple, turning over the tables and dumping the money of the ground as he cries out, “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a market place!” (John 2:17)

            Then there is a strange reaction from the people watching. They don’t run and hide wondering what this person is doing. They don’t try to stop him. They ask him, “What sign can you show us for doing this?” (John 2:18) Really? That is their reaction? And then to make it worse the answer Jesus gives is a strange statement that is nearly impossible to understand unless you know about Jesus’ death and crucifixion. Jesus says “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” (John 2:19) Is it any wonder the crowds starts muttering and saying things like, “This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, you will raise it up in three days?” (John 20) And they walk away shaking their heads in disbelief. What just happened here?

            It is a hard story to make sense of – especially if you don’t know how the story ends. It is only after Jesus’ death and resurrection that the disciples remember that it is written, “Zeal for your house will consume me” (John 2:17) and that the narrator can say “But he was speaking of the temple of his body. After he was raised from the dead the disciples remembered that he had aid this; and they belied the scripture and the word Jesus had spoken.” (John 2:21 – 22)

            In Matthew, Mark, and Luke the cleansing of the temple happens at the end of the Gospel as though this is the culmination of Jesus’ frustration with the authorities. Not so in John. It is at the beginning only a few short verses after Jesus turns the water into wine. But in John it happens at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. It is an introduction of who Jesus is – God’s son. It is a reminder that with Jesus everything is changed.

            As the tables are turned and the animals used for temple worship are sent packing, Jesus is making a point about who he is and his ministry. It is like he is saying “something new is happening starting today and our relationship with God will never be the same.”  In the place where earth and heaven meet, the place where God dwells, Jesus is makes it clear that God’s presence is with him. It is a complete shift in how people meet God. Once it was only in the temple. Now we meet God in Jesus and we are all invited to come and see what this means.            The author Phyllis Tickle who wrote the book The Great Emergence argues that the church today is in a period of major transition. Not as major as the day Jesus clears the temple of vendors. She argues that this happens every 500 hundred or so years. Think of the Reformation as Martin Luther as he nailed his statements on the wall. She says it is like the church is having a giant rummage sale and is trying to pick what parts of our tradition to take with into the next period, what do needs to let go of, and what do needs to be reclaimed.

            In some ways, that is what happened in the temple. It was a complete shift in how people are invited to meet God. We are in a shifting and changing time in our world today too. Our culture, our way of living, our faith are all in transition. We hear it on the news in movements like the Occupy movement and the Arab spring. We know it in our churches. So many people are spiritual but not religious or fall under the category of none when it comes to religion. We feel it on Sunday mornings with fewer people in the pews. As individual churches and a denomination we are having to make hard choices about how we will live our faith into the next generations.

            It is a challenging time to be in the church. It is filled with so many uncertainties and challenges. But it is not a time without hope. No matter the challenges and changes we face we remember these words from Hebrews, “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” (Hebrews 13:8) This time of challenge and change is an invitation from Jesus to go deeper into our faith. It is time to share our story and to boldly proclaim that as followers of Jesus we are given a gift that is truly priceless – grace. Grace is not earned. It is freely given. Every time we gather at Jesus table for gifts of bread and wine we are reminded of that grace. For in them we are given new life, a love that will not let us down and strength for the coming day. Amen.