Jesus Ministers to Their Doubts - Luke 24:36b-49, Third Sunday of Easter

An experienced pastor once advised, "...that when making grief calls to a home, when it seems that the grieving are disoriented and having difficulty focusing, it is helpful to ask, 'Do you have the coffee pot on?…' It helps to keep going about ordinary tasks in the midst of life’s moments of disorientation.” I'm not sure where I read or heard that sage wisdom but it makes sense at some level to me.

As Jesus appears to the disciples, Luke describes the disciples as "startled" and "terrified" which might be a reflection of their own disorientation and inability to focus. Even after showing them his wounds, they are still struggling with who stands before them. That's when he asks, “Have you anything here to eat?”

In the midst of all this, Jesus helps the disciples get reoriented by helping them go about this ordinary task of eating. He continues to help them get back on track by again explaining the scriptures to them and then reminds them that they are witnesses of all of these happenings. They have a mission to be about. As I've been writing these notes I am reminded that while Jesus' helps the disciples be reoriented through the ordinary task of eating, eating in the gospels is never an ordinary thing. It always has political and theological significance. Who you eat with says a lot. So as Jesus reminds them to be about the ordinary tasks of living, he is also reminding them how those ordinary tasks and our manner of doing them points beyond ourselves to God.

It is easy in many ways to make sense of the crucifixion. Throughout history, we see people put to death for upsetting the status quo or for failing to bow down to the powers that be. But the resurrection? It just doesn't make sense; it doesn't seem to be in the realm of logical possibility. So I can see why the disciples are full of terror. But even in the midst of this disorientation though, Jesus is present to the disciples and still to us ministering to our doubts and fears.

Labels & The Second Sunday of Easter, John 20:19-31

Labels are difficult to move past, aren’t they? Maybe it is because of the assumptions and in turn the limitations that follow the labels. When we label, I believe it tends to limit the scope of our vision – we fail to see the whole person, we fail to see potential meanings, we fail to see how God’s imagination might be at work or where it might lead.

Even though this Gospel elsewhere portrays Thomas as devoted to Jesus (11:16) and theologically alert (14:5); even though a non-canonical gospel bears his name, even though tradition has it that Thomas went on a mission to India, because of this text, he has been labeled "Doubting Thomas."

I remember various preachers and their sermons on this text. They all seemed to tag Thomas with this label. This act was discouraging to me as a young person. I, like Thomas, would have liked to be able to put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side. It would have been easier to believe. Such sermons can create incredible guilt in those hearing such a message. “Don't be like Thomas; believe without seeing!” The preachers would say, “it's not like our modern conception of science where we don't believe until it can be seen, until it can be proven. You just have to believe. Don't be like ol' doubting Thomas."

These words can create incredible amounts of guilt on the part of the hearers. They begin to question their faith and even if they are worthy to be in the presence of such a group of believers. More often than not, I suspect that the feelings of guilt turn to feelings of anger directed at those in the congregation. Those labeled as being like ol' doubting Thomas feel they aren't good enough to be included by those in the church. Eventually, they leave or they remain with festering sores. I would guess that there aren't many who wouldn't feel the guilt imposed by such sermons. We all want to portray an image of a faithful Christian. That image is usually one of no questions, no doubts, and no problems. It is a title of great honor. To talk about feelings of doubt is not a possibility where such a label has been declared dishonorable. So we all go about as if nothing has happened. Hoping to be seen as a faithful Christian, even if we feel that we are not.

For those preachers who preach don't be like ol' doubting Thomas, faith is born full blown. Just add water and its done. I believe that is a naive assessment of our relationship with God as reflected in our own lives and the bible. It denies our struggle to live a faithful life; it denies our successes and our failures as Christians. A relationship with God is a journey with a variety of twists and turns in the road. Just consider Job or those to whom Paul wrote as to encourage their faith. In our own lives there are times when that journey is difficult - the loss of a loved one, the loss of a job, conflict in the church, conflict in our families. Sometimes, if we could touch the nail marks with our fingers, it might be easier.

Jesus comes to Thomas and invites him to do just that. He says to him, “See my hands and my feet, touch my side. See, I come among you as one of you.” Seeing is believing in John’s gospel. Jesus wants Thomas to see, and in turn wants us to see. He continues to invite us to see those wounds today. Where is it we see them today? Perhaps, we see them in the victims of terror, among those shut up in prisons and concentration camps, those worn out by ill treatment and torture, those who have been abducted, those who live daily with threats of violence, those who suffer unexpected calamity, those who are excluded and not invited into the community, and wherever we see sin, death, and brokenness. Christ invites us to touch these wounds.

Thomas encounters the wounds of the risen Christ. The wounds are there to touch but something is changed, Jesus is different, and the wounds are different. Because we also encounter the risen Christ, we see these wounds differently. When we touch the wounds of Christ, we realize that sin, death, and brokenness are not the last word. When we reach out to touch Christ’s wounds, we are empowered to do something about the places of those wounds.
Thomas Merton, a monk who lived a while at Gethsemane Monastery near Bardstown, Kentucky, once said, “A true encounter with Christ liberates something in us, a power we did not know we had, a hope, a capacity for life, a resilience, an ability to bounce back when we thought we were completely defeated, a capacity to grow and change, a power of creative transformation” (Citation lost).

Death does not have the last word. God who gives life does!

"Touching Jesus" - A New Hymn for Sunday

What follows is a hymn newly composed by my friend David Weiss. It particularly touched me and I asked David if I could share it in this forum. We are singing it this Sunday as our closing hymn at our 10:30 service. If you'd like a copy of the hymn formated as an insert for your bulletin, I've got that and would be glad to send it to you.

Precious Lord, in my need, many years did I bleed;
I reach out, and I touch - touch your hem.
I am healed, like the rest; lepers cleansed, children blest.
Touch your hem, precious Lord, make me whole!

By the well, as I drew, there to drink, I drank you.
I am down, I am out, I am naught.
But you stop, and you speak; you're the One whom we seek;
Our lives touch, precious Lord, and I'm whole!

At the edge, of the town, there I knelt, to the ground.
Pour the nard, wipe your feet, with my hair.
While you dine, on the bread, through my tears, see you dead
Precious Lord, fragrant love, in the air!

Easter morn, through my tears, call my name, bring me near,
And I hear, and I look, and I hope.
Over the cross, over death, bringing life, drawing breath;
Precious Lord, once again, you are whole!

Easter Eve, I'm away; you were there, but I say,
Let me see, let me touch, let me know.
Once again, there you are; fingertips touch your scars;
In my heart, precious Lord, now I know!

Precious Lord, still your hands, bear your wounds, many lands:
Some are lost, some are least, some are hurt,
Let me touch you in deed, as I touch those in need;
Use my hands, Precious Lord, make them whole!

Text: David R. Weiss b. 1959 (April 2006)
Tune: Thomas A. Dorsey, 1899-1993 (Precious Lord)

Author's note: This hymn, written for the 2nd Sunday of Easter (when we commemorate Thomas' need to touch Jesus), lifts up a variety of images of touching Jesus. Verse 1: the woman with the flow of blood (Mark 5:25-34). Verse 2: the woman at the well (John 4:4-29). Verse 3: the anointing at Bethany (John 12:1-8). Verse 4: Mary Magdalene at the tomb on Easter morning (John 20:1-18). Verse 5: Thomas' Easter encounter (John 20:19-29). And Verse 6 suggests that we, too, touch Jesus whenever we offer our healing touch to the wounds of the world today.

Seeing Is Believing - Easter Sunday, John 20:1-18

It appears that there are two stories within this one reading for the day, or at least two significant themes. One is the episode of Peter and the “Beloved” disciple racing to the cemetery after Mary’s discovery of the empty tomb (vv. 1-10). The “Beloved” arrives first but doesn’t enter. Peter arrives, enters, and inspects the findings. His companion follows him inside and believes. They turn and leave with no mention of the impact on Peter. Fred Craddock points out concerning the different responses of these two disciples that “miracles and faith that understands are not as closely joined as some might suppose” (Preaching: Year A, 246).

The other episode in this passage focuses upon the experience of Mary Magdalene at the empty tomb (vv. 12-18). She returns to the tomb and stands outside weeping. At this point she begins seeing. In John, seeing equates to faith. In Mary’s episode, she first sees the messengers from God. Then, she sees the gardener, and finally she sees Christ. After each, she enters into conversation – first with the messengers, then the gardener, and then Christ. I wonder why Mary doesn't recognize Jesus from the start? Perhaps it is because of some intended progression in Mary’s encounters. As with Peter, the empty tomb does not create faith. Still, it seems that the progressive steps of each encounter represent some significance.

Mary comes to faith when she hears Christ call her name and takes us back to John 10:3-4 which declares Jesus as the shepherd who knows his own. She comes to faith at hearing the word. How does a contemporary proclamation of the word continue to do this for the community and those outside the community? As most commentators remind us, the encounter between the resurrected Jesus and Mary is not a return to pre-crucifixion time but reflects a new kind of relationship. “Easter opens up a new future.” Maybe that's the reason Jesus says, “Do not hold on to me…” (v. 17).

It is also interesting to note how the passage opens, “Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark…” (NRSV). I wonder if there might be a connection with Gen 1:1 where darkness covers the deep, the Spirit moves, then there is light, and we have the first day. Here there is darkness, the light comes, and there is a new day and a new way of "seeing."

Palm Sunday - How It Really Unfolds in the Church Today?

The following is a note from my dear friend Ruth Channels. I asked and she agreed to allow me to use this in the blog as I thought it worthy of sharing with all of you.

"Greetings. While reading the Palm Sunday account in preparation for teaching SS last weekend, I had a really fun insight. It seems to me that on both sides, the arrival of a new minister is a Palm Sunday experience. He/she is to be the savior - bring in young people, grow the giving, get rid of... (fill in the blank). Eventually, the minister does something that over turns the money changers' tables - perhaps changing the order of worship or removing an American flag? It may take years or months or weeks, but in my own experience and that shared by others, eventually the Holy Week events play themselves out. You can imagine that Paul and I had great fun discussing this. However, as the time has passed, I think that some acknowledgement of this trap could help the process greatly." Ruth

Greeting Easter Morning - A Time of Worship for Home

Find a special place, outside or in, where you can begin this day in worship, alone or with your family. Select some music to play as you begin this time of worship - piano, instrumental classical, or instrumental jazz may provide the best option. Before you settle into your space for worship, turn off the phones, television, and any other possible distractions. Enter the space of worship and sense the joy of this day.

Opening Psalm from Psalm 118

Out of my distress I called upon You;
You answered, setting me
on a new path.
With You beside me, I do not fear.
What can others do to me?
You live within me and answer
my prayer as
I face the fears that
well up from within.
It is better to abandon yourself
to the Beloved
than to trust in yourself alone.
It is better to surrender to Love
than to seek the riches
of the world.

Gospel Reading John 20:1-10

Prayer
Risen Lord,
You step forth out of death into life, again, different, changed.

With your coming out, you splinter the tombs in which we live;
living with death all around us, you scatter our despair;
as the Water of Life you fill our parched souls.

Bathed in your light, you draw us to yourself and as we look
all around we see life, new and different.

In the radiance of your light, we worship and listen. Amen.

Silence
(Enter an extended period of silence and listen for God. As you settle into this time, do not worry if distracting thoughts enter your mind or if your mind wanders. Simply let the thoughts pass on through and let your mind return to listening.)

Epistle Reading Colossians 3:1-4

Prayer of Intercession
Let us pray for…
The whole world, the place of Jesus’ ministry,
death, and resurrection…

The church, that we may be one in witnessing to
the Good News…

Those divided by enmity, that the joy of this Easter
may be impetus to reconciliation…

Those who are hungry, thirsty, and naked, that
their hunger pangs may be sated, their thirst
quenched, and their bodies protected…

Those who live in fear and anxiety, that they may
know the wholeness of God…

Those who are ill and injured, that they may be
healed…

The leaders of the world, that they may be servants
of others and that they may rule with grace and
mercy…

Risen Lord, hear our prayers. Amen.

Benediction
Be graceful in spirit, hopeful in word, and faithful in deed.
Live for the Risen Christ as Christ lives in you.
Alleluia and Amen!

Where do we go from here?

Three years ago this past week (at least I think that is about the time it was) I found myself full of hope. Hope emerging from the pictures that looped through CNN, MSNBC, and all of the other news channels. They were pictures of cheering crowds pouring into the streets, statues being pulled over, palm branches waving in the air to welcome the marines and soldiers driving into Basra and Baghdad. The story they seemed to tell was one of joy, longed for liberation, of great hopefulness that things were on the brink of changing. Whether or not this is the way that such change should occur, regardless of your position on the war, I suspect that three years ago we all passionately hoped that the hopes of the Iraqi people would not be disappointed. Even with all of the uncertainty and the ongoing turmoil there today, we still desire that the hopes of the Iraqi people will not be disappointed.

I know I didn’t want my hopes to be disappointed either. As I saw those pictures three years ago, I was filled with hope that Neil, my brother-in-law, would not have to leave Nashville; that my cousin Alex would stay in Kentucky. Maybe it was the kind of hope of which the prophet Zechariah sings, “[the Messiah] will command peace to the nations” (9:10d).

These pictures that the news channels showed without ceasing must have been similar to the scene in Jerusalem 2,000 years ago. Many folks, Mark’s crowd doesn’t sound quite as large as the crowds in the other gospels, …many folks out along the road running up to Jerusalem from Bethphage and Bethany throwing their clothing as a carpet on the road before Jesus. Those there filled with hope of liberation from the Romans, and end to the occupation that had begun with the Greeks over 300 years before, with the exception of the brief period around the Maccabean revolt.

Just as soon as it had begun, though, it all ended. According to Mark, Jesus enters Jerusalem, goes to the temple, finds no one there, and then goes back out to Bethany for the night. The cheering, chanting, dizzy crowd goes home.

This whole scene is a bit puzzling. The crowd is there singing of Jesus’ enthronement as king. Yet nothing happens. Other than his instructions to the disciples to go and get the colt, Jesus remains silent through out this scene. He is really low-key about the whole thing. He doesn’t disagree with the chants of the crowd but then when he gets to the temple nothing happens. He and the disciples head back out to Bethany. The crowd in their excitement must have been somewhat disappointed. They are ready for the oppression at the hands of the Romans to end, ready to live in freedom after centuries of invasion and occupation, and ready to be led by the descendent of David, their king.

Jesus appears to take all of this in stride, handling it all very nonchalantly. He apparently doesn’t speak or even do anything other than ride in on this donkey. The expectations hang all around him lifting the hopes of the people to new heights. Yet he does nothing.

Well what in the world are we to do with that?

Culture's Liturgy & Crowning a New King

The beginning of April always includes several major sporting events. Tonight is the NCAA men’s basketball championship game between Florida and UCLA. Even though I didn’t pick either one to go this far, I expect to see Florida cutting the nets down on the front page of the paper tomorrow. The Masters starts Thursday down in Augusta. The weather looks like it is miserable down that direction right now. Yesterday was opening day of the Major League Baseball season. My favorite team, Cincinnati, opened up today – in the last report I heard, the Cubs were pounding Cincinnati. The season always begins filled with such hope and dreams of playing in October. There is always great ceremony around these opening games – celebrities throwing out the first pitches, the stands often filled with families, and kids who have cut class to go watch the first game of the season. But mostly it is adults that are the celebrants at such gatherings. It seems to me that around such sporting events we act out our cultural liturgy. With our rituals and officials on hand, we state through these celebrations our core beliefs as a society. Such times are always filled with such hopes and dreams – the promise that tomorrow will be better than today and all of the ideas like that.

In the church year, we stand on the cusp again of one such day in our life together as the church – Palm Sunday. It is a day when we in word and action retell the story of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, which initiates the telling of his passion story. As we act it out, we’ve always got the palm branches ready to wave. It is interesting that it is usually into the hands of our children that we place the palm fronds. I wonder if we do that because it is in them that we see hope. Hope for an end to the distress that the world always seems to live in the midst of? Hope that the story might turn out differently this time? Hope for something else? Why don't the adults pick up the palm fronds as well? Are our adults without such hope for themselves? Have we given up on this story? Is it because we know where it leads that we can no longer pick up the palm branches?

The lectionary readings for the day depend upon the year in which we live. In other words, the gospel readings rotate between the different versions of the story. But Psalm 118 is always included as a reading. Often entitled a psalm of victory, the feel of it to me is of an enthronement psalm. The victory psalm title comes from the description of the king, or some other national leader, facing some form of distress which is later described as being from the nations that surrounded him (vv. 10-11). He sings that it was a difficult trial but he survives (vv. 13-18). The part that strikes me as having to do with an enthronement is the part that we will read in worship this next Sunday – vv. 19-29. In these verses, the king leads a processional of people towards the city, maybe even around the city first, and then to the gate of the city where he knocks and calls for the gates to the city to be opened. We hear shouts of great praise for God as the processional moves towards the altar where the king ties the festal procession with branches to the horns of the altar. We find something similar with the coronation of King Jehu in 2 Kings 9:1-13 as well as with the success of the Maccabean revolt when they retake the citadel in Jerusalem (1 Maccabees 13:51) and the recovery and purification of the temple (2 Maccabees 10:6-7).

Are we to understand Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem in the same manner? Was he re-enacting a coronation processional into Jerusalem? If we are to understand his triumphal entry into Jerusalem in such a manner, then we need to understand how the Romans would have been threatened by such an act. It would amount to an act of revolt and they would have responded quickly and decisively to squash it. We know ultimately that is exactly what they did. We’ll be telling that story all next week.

Again I wonder why it is that we only put palm branches in the hands of our children when most of those in attendance – at the RCA Dome this evening, in Augusta at the Masters later this week, in the baseball parks all across the country, and in our churches next Sunday – will be adults?