May 3 Lectionary Gospel: John 10:1-10

The Good Shepherd and His Sheep

10 “Very truly I tell you Pharisees, anyone who does not enter the sheep pen by the gate, but climbs in by some other way, is a thief and a robber. 2 The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. 3 The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. 4 When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice. 5 But they will never follow a stranger; in fact, they will run away from him because they do not recognize a stranger’s voice.” 6 Jesus used this figure of speech, but the Pharisees did not understand what he was telling them.

7 Therefore Jesus said again, “Very truly I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. 8 All who have come before me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep have not listened to them. 9 I am the gate; whoever enters through me will be saved.[a] They will come in and go out, and find pasture. 10 The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.

                                                             ✟

Reading the Gospel of John, you encounter several instances where Jesus uses illustrations and figures of speech, and his hearers don't understand him.  This is one of those instances.  Jesus, in this case, is speaking with Pharisees:  the true shepherd enters the sheep pen by the gate.  False shepherds (thieves and bandits) jump the fence.  The Pharisees don't get it.

I feel them. I have a hard time getting Jesus in the Gospel of John.  What are you talking about, Jesus? Who are the thieves and bandits?  Who is the real shepherd?  Who are these sheep?  What does this have to do with the price of turtledoves in the marketplace?

So Jesus explains himself (ostensibly) by mixing metaphors, and, to be honest, mixing me up even more (and, I assume, the Pharisees, as well).  Now Jesus is the gate, and the sheep have to go in and out through the gate to find pleasant pastures. And then, back to the thief jumping the fence: the thief's goal is to kill (he's looking for a rack of lamb dinner).  But the Good shepherd (charged with protecting the sheep) leads his flock to abundant life (the pleasant pastures).

As is usually the case, when I read the Gospel of John, I have to let that stuff rattle around in my brain for three or four days before any marbles come rolling out.  And here's what came out today:

Jesus is the gate, and that gate is the direct path to abundant life.  This illustration is consistent with other sayings of Jesus in this Gospel:  Jesus is the way, the truth and the life.  Enter by the narrow gate.  Any other way out of the sheep pen (that is, on the shoulders of the thief, jumping over the fence) is the road to perdition.

We are tempted to follow false messiahs.  We seek salvation - no, to be more accurate, we seek escape, a numbing - from our idols.  They're not made of metal or wood and set on pedestals in pagan temples.  Our idols are gold and silver, sex and alcohol, consumerism and recognition, social status and power.  All of these false shepherds are thieves . . . they steal our souls.  The only Presence that brings life is God.  Jesus shows us the way to that abundant life . . . Jesus is the gateway to those pleasant pastures.

I'm discovering that this time of pandemic has been a rich time of self-reflection and spiritual discovery (there's not much else to do . . . I've binge-watched everything there is to see on Netflix).  The world has come screeching to a halt, and it's a gift.  It's an opportunity to step outside of the daily grind.  It's a chance to step out of the hamster wheel now that it's seized up.  And I'm realizing how much I have allowed those thieves to jump the fence and steal parts of my soul.

Working to the point of exhaustion, climbing the corporate ladder - there's one false god that was sucking the life out of my soul.  Suddenly I am finding more peace.  I've been able to cut my Zoloft tablets in half.  My stress level has dropped below the feverish rate. I am rediscovering my wife.  The aching longing to see my sons and grandson, whom I can see only on my smart phone, has heightened my appreciation and love for my children.

Most fulfilling, I am spending time in prayer and meditating on God's Word.  I am discovering first-hand that the gate really does lead to greener pastures.

Lectionary May 3: Acts 2:42-47

The marks of the first church, which one supposes should still be the marks of the church today.

There were four practices that marked this first Christian community: (1) attending to the apostles' teaching; (2) fellowship; (3) breaking bread together; and (4) prayers.  The new converts gathered at the Temple for worship, as well as individual homes for fellowship and sharing of meals.  Prayer was not just freeform prayer in small groups, but actually a service of worship, as in the synagogue.

Breaking of bread was not just having  Wednesday night supper at the church; it was, in fact, a communal meal that incorporated the celebration of the Lord's Supper.

Fellowship - the Greek word is koinonia - is more than just getting together for fun or for Bible study.  It was a very specific type of interaction, which involved caring for one another's needs. Thus, the community held everything in common, and believers sold their property and their personal goods to raise money to care for those who were economically disadvantaged.

This is one of the most controversial passages for American Christians - especially those Christians who have difficulty distinguishing between capitalism and Christianity.  But this was not a Marxist communism.  Selling of possessions was not mandatory, but was done as a faith response to God's grace in Jesus Christ, and because of love for one another.  Donations were made as needed, not on any schedule.

Christian worship in this community had two balancing elements; one without the other would throw the community's life out of  sync.  Believers gathered in the Temple (i.e. at church; in the sanctuary or worship center) AND in house churches (small groups).  We know in our own time and culture that churchgoers who only attend sanctuary worship have a much more anemic experience of corporate faith than those who also are involved in a Sunday School class, small group Bible study or shepherding group.  What you put into your community determines what you get out of it.

What does this say to us in the Time of COVID19?  If gathering together in our communal worship space and in our homes is a necessary part of being a worshipping community, how do we do that in a time of social distancing?  Thankfully, modern technology allows for a less robust experience of community than being together in person, but at least allows us to be a virtual community.  For instance, our congregation is worshipping via Facebook Live and holding Bible studies and small groups via Zoom.

Breaking bread is a little more difficult when sheltering in place!  But I have seen churches having virtual Eucharist, where each family sets the table at home with the bread and the cup and celebrate the supper as the pastor on the computer speaks the words of institution.

Now the sensitive issue:  how do we share our possessions with each other?  Let me point out that the first church was concerned with feeding its own members, and not the poor in the community at large.  But giving alms at the Temple was the method for taking care of the city's poor, and certainly, we can assume that the first Christians gave alms.

Today's church is much richer, with greater resources, than the first church.  It is logical that God would expect us to take care of more than just our own members.

At the conclusion of the passage, Luke writes that the gathering of these new believers was so attractive that it drew to itself those from outside the ecclesia (church), and the church grew day by day with new converts, wanting some of what these Jesus-followers had ("the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved").  How attractive is your church?  Do non-believers experience your community and are they inexorably drawn to you?

April 26 Lectionary Epistle Lesson: I Peter 1:17-23

The lectionary passage from I Peter, chapter 1, starts at v. 17 and goes through v. 23.  The passage itself, in context, should start at v. 13 and read through v. 25.  The passage is about committing to holiness, but we must be careful to understand what that means.  The author commands us not to return to our old ways, when we were, as Paul wrote, slaves to the elemental spirits.  We must be holy, as God is holy.

But what does it mean to be holy, in the context of life in the Spirit?  First of all, it means that we rely totally on God's grace (v. 13 - this is why it's important to read the whole passage, or we'd miss this subtle but important element).

This holiness is also powered by our faith in a risen Christ, who was from the beginning of time God's instrument for bringing salvation to creation.  This holiness also takes seriously the holiness of God, as well as the supreme price God paid, in the death of the Son, for our salvation.  So it is not enough to focus on the grace of God; we must also fear God, which I believe means a healthy reverence for God's generous love and a  commitment to respond to that grace with sanctified living.

Grace without holiness is a cheap grace.  Holiness without grace rapidly descends into pious self-righteousness.

It is also important to remember that our holiness is not the product of our own striving; instead, it is the result of our complete surrender to the grace of God.  And that holiness is expressed most fully in how we love one another, as God has loved us.

April 26 Lectionary passage from Acts

Acts 2:14a, 36-41

This passage contains the end of Peter's Pentecost sermon and the congregation's reaction.

I don't like replacing the Old Testament Lesson with a passage from the New Testament, as happens during Eastertide in this year's lectionary cycle.  I don't like lifting verses out of a longer passage, as this reading does.  I don't like a Pentecost passage being read at Eastertide.  And I don't like hellfire and damnation sermons.

I was schooled in preaching by three of the best:  Tom Long, Wade Huie and Will Ormond.  All three of them would agree on this:  a sermon should be about the Good News of the Gospel.  Preaching that manipulates its hearers with anger, guilt, anxiety and the threat of hell is not Good News preaching.

Peter would have flunked their homiletics courses.  This, the first Christian evangelistic sermon ever preached, was a "come-to-Jesus" sermon in the most literal sense.  The first verse of this reading proves as much:  "God made him Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified" (emphasis mine).  If that doesn't bring a sinner to his or her knees . . .

Remember the context:  Peter is preaching to Jews from all over the Roman Empire, as well as the hometown crew.  His tactic is to lay a guilt trip on the Jews gathered at the Temple for the crime of crucifying the One whom God has made Lord (worthy of praise and adoration) and Christ (Messiah - the Anointed One whom all Jews were awaiting).  NOTE:  none of these Jewish pilgrims actually crucified Jesus.  The Roman government carried out the execution.

Apparently, and contrary to my own professors' opinions, the technique works well.  Luke claims that 3,000 persons joined the new cult that day.

The focus of this passage is the response of those who received Peter's hellfire and brimstone sermon:  "cut to the heart," they asked, "What should we do?"  Peter answers, "Repent and be baptized." 

The converts receive baptism for the forgiveness of sins - a ritual with which pious Jews would be familiar - but with a new twist or two:  the baptism is also in the name of Jesus Christ, AND the mechanism for receiving the gift of the Holy Spirit (something the disciples only that morning had received themselves).

What, exactly are they repenting from?  Knowing the tradition of baptism for the forgiveness of sins, and looking forward to Peter's last quote in this passage ("save yourselves from this wicked generation"), it is the calling to turn away from sin and turn to God - to turn away from a lifestyle of self-serving behavior to a life of serving God.  This would not differ greatly from the baptismal call of the Essene sect, for instance, with the exception that repentance now also meant confessing loyalty to Jesus, raised from the dead, made Lord and Christ by God.

After giving Peter grief for disappointing my preaching professors with his Jonathan Edwards' "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" - style sermon, I must admit that there is a passage of Good News here, when Peter says, "for the promise is to you, and to your children, and to those who are far off."

Acts is about the expansion of the Jesus movement, which happens by the Holy Spirit blowing the walls off of religion and exploding our boundaries.  I'm sure that Peter understood himself to mean only Jews of the Diaspora when he uttered this promise, but we understand that the Holy Spirit meant EVERYONE whom the Lord calls to relationship with the Divine.

Today, we still try to erect walls around our religion.  The Church is suffering through such turmoil now when we forget our calling to love, and misconstrue our calling as one of judging right from wrong.  But that privilege belongs solely to God.  And we know that by the way Jesus lived and by what he taught ("first take the log out of your own eye . . .").  In response to our building walls, the Holy Spirit comes along and blows them down:  Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch. Peter's vision of the animals on the sheet descended from heaven.  Paul's conversion and call to preach to the Gentiles.

Who are those who are "far off" today?  Who are we leaving outside the doors of our worship spaces?  I remember when I was a kid in Tuscaloosa, I heard the story about how my church locked the doors of our sanctuary rather than allow African American college students join us in worship.  Ironically, the college those students attended was founded by the pastor of that same church, the Rev. Charles Stillman for whom the college is named.

By the time we joined First Presbyterian Church, the Holy Spirit had knocked down some walls, and the Stillman College Choir was invited annually to lead worship on Stillman Sunday.  Unfortunately, the church was still virtually lily white most other Sundays. But it was a start.

That was the 1950s and 1960s.  Who are we locking out of the church today?  Which sins are we selecting for attention and which are we overlooking?  Let me be clear: the promise and the call to repentance are inseparable.  One without the other is either cheap grace or hypocritical judgementalism.  But the journey to repentance begins inside the doors, and the doors have to be open and unlocked.

April 26 Lectionary Gospel: Luke 24:13-35

   The Road to Emmaus story is my favorite post-resurrection account.  First of all, what is Jesus doing outside of Jerusalem? Doesn't he have appearances to make in town?  And how does Jesus spend the whole afternoon and evening with these two disciples and still find time to appear to Simon Peter before these two can hoof it back to Jerusalem?

   Let's look at Cleopas and his unnamed friend.  They are conditioned by their history and culture to see what they see, as well as to overlook what they cannot see.  They are dejected and depressed because the man they considered a great prophet, and possibly even the promised Messiah, has been executed.  They could not comprehend of a different kind of Messiah than the one they've been taught to look for.  They are looking for another King David, or at least a political insurrectionist in line with the Maccabean brothers.

These two are also conditioned by their paternalistic culture to discount the women's account of the empty tomb.  Not until men of their company verify that the tomb is empty do they believe it.  And since these men did not actually see Jesus himself, they were skeptical of the claim that he was alive.  The disciples are no different. It is not until Peter recounts his interaction with Jesus that they accept the truth of Jesus' resurrection.

The two disciples, their faith thus limited, start down the road despondent and dejected.

Now, let's look at Jesus.  He has a wicked sense of humor. He approaches these two sad men, knowing full well why they are depressed.  Jesus is unrecognizable to them (why? did he make himself unrecognizable? Were the two walkers unable to recognize Jesus because they couldn't comprehend a risen Jesus? Is it just a literary technique?).  This Stranger pretends to be clueless about current events, and even eggs the two on as they relate the sad current events.  When they finish their story, the Lord responds with not a very polite retort: "You foolish and slow-witted guys.  Can't you understand the Scriptures? That the Messiah had to suffer in order to come into his glory?"

Of course these two didn't comprehend the Scriptures; because, they were conditioned to understand them otherwise.  Jesus then reveals to them the meaning of all scripture during the two-hour walk.  When the three of them reach Emmaus, Jesus pretends like he's continuing down the road.  Knowing that continuing to travel in the wilderness in the dark was very dangerous, they plead with Jesus to stay the night with them.

Jesus' last trick:  when it's time for dinner, Jesus - the guest - usurps the role of host, blesses the bread and breaks it and gives it to the two men. In that act, Jesus reveals his identity, and then disappears!  Do you see what I mean by a wicked sense of humor?

This is a rich story, which can be perceived from many different perspectives.  The application that appeals most to me is to understand the road to Emmaus as a worship experience of the Risen Christ.  The two disciples enter the journey despondent, their faith broken, their hope lost.  On the road, they hear the sermon: the Law and the Prophets interpreted and the Good News of Jesus Christ proclaimed.  The Spirit is moving in this exposition of Scripture -- "did not our hearts burn within us?"

The worshippers reach their home and gather at the table.  Where two or three are gathered, there is the Lord also, made known to the worshippers in the breaking of the bread.  Nourished with the Word preached and the Word consumed in the Eucharist, the two worshippers are restored. Their hearts warmed, their faith strengthened, their hope reborn.  And they go out to share the Good News.  They gather the courage to return to Jerusalem in the dark (remember how unsafe it is to travel at night?) to tell the others that the Lord is risen.

This passage reminds me how much we need to worship in the community of believers at all times, but certainly at this time in our history.  And yet, the worst thing we could do during a pandemic is to gather bodily together around the Table.  However, even as the Lord can appear on a dusty road in the middle of nowhere, Jesus can come to us wherever we are sheltering in place.

We can give thanks that the creators of Zoom and Facebook Live - unwitting ministers of God's grace that they might be - have given us the technology to continue to worship together, even if not in person.  And we can look forward to the day (and it will return!) when we can gather in our respective sanctuaries, mosques and synagogues.  In the meantime, whenever we break bread - around the dinner table, online, when we share our possessions (money, food, toilet paper) with those who are without - the presence of the Risen Lord will be revealed to us.

April 19 Gospel: John 20:19-31

The Gospel passage relates the post-resurrection appearance of Jesus, on the evening of the Day of Resurrection, in the locked upper room where the disciples were gathered, except for Thomas.  Days later, the disciples are gathered again, hiding in the upper room, this time with Thomas present.  Jesus challenges doubting Thomas to believe.  The punch line of the passage is Jesus' statement, "Blessed are they who have not seen and yet believe."

But I don't want to talk about that.  Everybody else will talk about that.  I want to talk about how Jesus announces himself when he appears (though a locked door!):  "Peace be with you."

It reminds me of what my Arabic friends say to me when we greet one another:  "As salaamu al-aikum."  Jesus spoke Aramaic, so he would have said, "Shlomo aleykhum."  Notice the similarity?  Was Jesus just saying, "Hi, y'all" in his colloquial language? Or was he saying something more profound?  Conversely, when we say, "Shalom" or "Salaam," are we simply acknowledging another, or are we blessing that one?

Just as Jesus took simple bread and wine and made something much more of it, I think he was also taking this simple, common greeting and making it sacramental.  Just as the Aramaic "Hi, y'all" has become the passing of the peace in liturgical Christian worship.  It is not meant to be rote and thoughtless.  It should be a deep, meaningful benediction that we offer to one another.

Jesus said, "Peace be unto you."  Ten frightened men, hiding behind a locked door, fearful for their lives.  How on earth were they going to feel anything near peace?  The peace, of course, comes from Jesus Messiah.  After he offers his blessing of peace to a group of men who could not possibly feel any sense of wholeness or security, Jesus then breathes upon them the Holy Spirit.

Why does Jesus breathe the spirit?  The spirit is breath (pneuma in Greek) and wind (ruach in Hebrew). What this says about Jesus is that he is Lord.  Not just a really good fellow.  But God the Divine Self.  The spirit (wind) of God moved upon the chaotic waters at creation.  God breathed life into the nostrils of Adam.  Jesus breathed the Spirit upon the disciples.  By the Spirit we can comprehend and bask in the peace that only God can offer.

Today is not a peaceful day.  There is so much fear and danger because of a virus.  There is so much political turmoil in a country that was already poignantly divided before this crisis arose.  There is no peace - no wholeness, no security - in the world.  But there is peace in God, from God.  This is how we, as Christians, can be counter-cultural - how we can chart a different path than the one we see on the television news or read on Twitter.   We can walk by faith in the peace of God and witness to a frightened world that God reigns.

"Peace be with you," Jesus said.  And he made this peace a reality by bathing us in the Holy Spirit.  Walk, then, as people of peace.

April 19 Lectionary Psalm 16

The Psalmist calls upon God to continue protecting and blessing him, as God has in the past.  He refuses to worship other gods, nor does he even acknowledge them, for to the Psalmist, God alone is Lord, and only God is worthy of the Psalmist's continuous worship.  Because the Psalmist walks with God (constantly in prayer and seeking God's will), his path is steady and sure.  With God at his right hand, he cannot falter.

Striking in this psalm is how the author moves from how God has blessed his earthly life, to how God will walk with him through death to the other side.  God will not let him fall into the Pit, for God's path is the path of life.  This is not a pagan belief in reincarnation or immortality of the soul, but a faithful confession that in God - and only in YHWH - is there life, now and beyond the grave.  It is not us who will defeat death, but God. And, as Paul wrote, because we participate in the death of Christ, we will also live eternally with him.

These words bring comfort as we face any and all of life's challenges, but even more immediately, as we struggle with a global viral pandemic.  This pestilence will bring death to many, and sickness to many more.  But even in the face of death, we can trust in God to walk beside us (at our right hand) onto the path of Life.

Worshipping other gods will bring us only sorrow.  Governments and scientists may mitigate the ravages of the pandemic, but they cannot defeat or repel it.  Our economy will not save us; like the gods made of stone and wood, Wall Street has failed us and jobless rates have soared.  Only the true God, YHWH, can save us.  In God alone must we put our trust.

New Testament Lectionary Passage for April 19: Acts 2:14a, 22-23

I find the lectionary reading from Acts a curious choice for several reasons: (1) it is more properly associated with Pentecost, which falls on  May 31, this year; (2) the reading snips out of the passage verse 14 (and only the first half, at that), and verses 22-23, which, de facto, takes the reading out of context.; and finally, (3) we are reading only about the crucifixion of Jesus - on the Sunday after Easter, no less - and leaving out the very next paragraph in Peter's sermon, which explicitly mentions the Resurrection.

Verse 14a will be repeated again on Sunday, April 26, signifying that the passage, once again, is a snippet of Peter's Pentecost sermon, and another (albeit fuller) excision from the text will be read (once again eliding out the Resurrection). 

Verses 22 and 23 are the "meat" - a thin slice - of the passage for Sunday.  Peter calls to mind to the "Israelites" in his audience the miraculous works of Jesus, about which they presumably heard, and being people of the Covenant, should have recognized that these miracles were evidence of God's anointing on Jesus (which, indeed, is the meaning of the word, "Messiah").  And yet, these same hearers Peter accuses of turning Jesus over to those "outside the Law" to be executed.

Older translations use the phrase "lawless men"; however, a more accurate translation is the NRSV's "those outside the Law," that is gentiles - the Romans.  The implication is a rubbing of salt in the wound, much like serving Jesus bacon or ham for his last meal before execution.

Can we directly blame the pilgrims standing at the Temple listening to Peter's sermon for Jesus' death?  That doesn't make sense to the Western mind, so immersed in individuality. However, in communal cultures, the concept of corporate sin is a reality (and should be in our culture as well).  To put it another way, "The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is that good (persons) do nothing" (attributed to Edmund Burke and Martin Luther King, Jr., among others).

The surprise in the passage comes in the last verse, where Peter, having only recently realized this himself, tells the congregation that this tragedy - the execution of the Messiah - was not an accident, because God foreknew and planned for this tragic event.  Herein lies the great paradox of Providence.  How can God agree to, accept or accommodate the execution of God's own Son?  Again, to our rational paradigm of thought, which is dualistic, it needs to be one way or the other.  But if we can begin to comprehend "both/and" thinking - to see more of a yin-yang than an either-or, we can begin to understand how God can be in control and yet out of it.  Or as John Calvin presciently put it, "nothing is done without God's will, not even that which is against his will" (Institutes, I.18.3).

This is the kernel, I think, that will preach.  When we are confronted by the darkest hour, God is still present, and in control.  As former moderator of the Presbyterian Church (USA) Dr. Joan Gray often says, "God will make a way where there is no way."

Today we are facing a crisis not known in our lifetime, as if the world literally stopped spinning because of a tiny snippet of RNA (not since the Spanish flu of 1918 have we been so affected by a pandemic).  We are in the midst of it right now, without a clear path to the other side.  Perhaps it is appropriate, this year, that the Lectionary passage ends abruptly before the mention of the Resurrection, because we are still walking through the valley of the shadow of death, and new life is only a vague mirage in the distance.

Many of us won't make it through the dark valley.  None of us will make it to the other side unchanged.  So what is the good news in the dark valley in which we find ourselves?  The good news is that God is here in the valley with us.  God did not bring COVID-19 upon us any more than God forced Judas to betray Jesus or the Romans to crucify him.  But God was at the cross - even when Jesus didn't believe it ("My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?").  And God is with us today. At the bedside in ICU.  At the drive-by testing site.  At the grocery store and in the grocery delivery van.  Sheltering in place with us.

God did not create COVID-19, but neither did the virus throw God a curveball. Even though the death and illness brought upon us by the virus was against God's will, it is still somehow encapsulated and overcome by God's Providence.

And even though the Lectionary text ends before the Resurrection, we know there is a Final Word that belongs to God, and not to the powers of darkness. Because we celebrated Easter last Sunday.  Even if I become infected, and, yes, even if I die, yet I will live again, because He lives.  Alleluia.