Fifth Sunday in Lent to Second Sunday of Easter.

Hoffman, Paul E. ; Telyea, Wesley C. ; Baker-Trinity, Nathan 等

April 6, 2014

Fifth Sunday in Lent

Ezekiel 37:1-14

Psalm 130

Romans 8:6-11

John 11:1-45

First Reading

A week away from Palm/Passion Sunday, depending on your congregation's tradition, and two weeks away from Easter, our readings today focus on the themes of hope and new life. In the Old Testament we read about Ezekiel who, in a dream, was taken by God into a valley of dry bones and commanded to prophesy. How odd this must have been for Ezekiel who, as a priest, just being around human remains would have made him ritually unclean (Lev 21:1-9). Yet not only is Ezekiel commanded to go and prophesy, to do the very thing that will make him unclean, but the message he speaks is how through "breath" (ruah: spirit, breath) the Lord will bring new life to the unclean (37:9). What is interesting to note in this text is how Ezekiel doesn't exhort the skeletons to get up; rather, the skeletons respond to the breath and come to life because of the word that is spoken to them! What hope must have been communicated in this message! Even better, God does this all so the bones will know that he is the Lord (37:6).

This message of hope for the desperate is reiterated in the psalm when the psalmist proclaims, "I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, in his word I hope" (130:5). The psalmist acknowledges here that the only relief for those who are confronted with the depth of their sin is found in God alone.

In Romans Paul talks about the tension between life in the flesh and life in the Spirit. This follows the great baptismal statements found in Romans 6, and serves to remind hearers that, as baptized members of the body of Christ, life in the Spirit frees people from their sinful nature, which is unable to please God (8:8), and gives them life through Christ (8:11).

In John once again we have a text ripe with the themes of new life and hope. Here Lazarus has died and Jesus will restore him to new life. This text is the climax to the first half of John's gospel, and in many ways points to Jesus' own resurrection. For preachers it is important to remember that while this text talks about the restoration of Lazarus, ultimately it is making a christological statement or, dare I say, a christological proclamation. Hence this text begins by stating that Lazarus' restoration "is for God's glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it (11:4)," and provides the opportunity for Jesus to state that he is the resurrection and the life (11:25). As the resurrection and the life Jesus brings his hearers belief, comfort, and hope that his work is the work of the Father (11:42).

Pastoral Reflections

My congregation is located in an affluent neighborhood on the east side of Seattle, Wash. Many of my parishioners work for large successful companies such as Microsoft, Boeing, and Amazon. To talk about hope and new life, especially in light of some kind of disappointment or struggle, is often an opportunity for this affluent neighborhood to talk about how a person's hard work has finally "paid off." Yet, these texts don't talk about hope and new life as a "pay off' for one's hard work. As a matter of fact these texts are not concerned with what people do, rather they are concerned with what God is doing.

I bring this up to point out the risk of the texts this week. For the preacher who is not careful, it is easy to take these texts and turn them into a preaching of a theology of glory. If you ask people how they have died and been raised, and through that dying and rising found hope and new life in the midst of life's many bumps, you would probably find that many of the stories would be examples of personal triumph.

The problem with this is that life isn't that clean, and the bumpy road of life doesn't always end with the kind of hope and new life we want to associate it with. For example, what about the woman who miscarries only to find out she is not able to have kids? Where is her resurrection? Where is her hope? Or the son or daughter who cannot kick their drug addiction, and one day suffers an overdose? What does new life look like for the family that is left to deal with the funeral?

In order to avoid a theology of glory those who preach these texts must boldly confront them. Maybe the preacher should take a page out of Paul's playbook and explore what it means to live in the tension between life in the Spirit and life in the flesh. Or, in light of the fact that Holy Week is quickly approaching, maybe the preacher should explore what it means that our hope is found on a cross that appears to the world as failure. Another avenue might be for the preacher to talk about new life in terms of failed worldly expectations, or, based on the Ezekiel text, the preacher could talk about the efficacy of the word, and how God's word does what it says. Whatever the preacher chooses to do, in order to avoid the trap of preaching a theology of glory, the preacher would be wise to remember that the main themes in our reading today, hope and new life, are gifts given by God to God's precious people.

In other words, hope and new life are not things people can control or use, rather they are the gifts that the people of God receive and respond to.

Wesley C. Telyea

April 13, 2014

Sunday of the Passion

Matthew 26-27

A story that preaches itself

In many parishes, there is no sermon on the Sunday of the Passion. The common assumption seems to be that hearing the entire passion story is sufficient, that the story "preaches itself." Hearing the entire passion account on what used to exclusively be called "Palm Sunday" has been strongly encouraged in recent years.

And for good reason. Negatively, attendance at Good Friday services continues to be spotty, and the rhythms of modern life continue to pay less and less attention to this day. The Sunday of the Passion offers us the opportunity to hear at least one evangelist's entire account of the death of Jesus.

Positively, hearing the entire story balances out the loud boisterousness of the following Sunday. We experience a real-life, tragic death before resurrection. Unlike the passion accounts, the resurrection accounts in all four Gospels are, of course, quite short. But they are usually (indeed, they must be!) followed by a robust and compelling sermon.

So how does one go about "preaching" this story? Along with reading the entire passion account, there is the strongly encouraged option of doing a dramatic "reader's theatre" style of reading. That is, to hear "the old, old story" in the contemporary voices of a few, brave members of your congregation. Any volunteers?

This has been a very meaningful practice for me in the three parishes I have served, as well as for most who have been a part of it. Nothing compels you to hear the gospel more personally than hearing your brother or sister in Christ speak the words of a particular character.

Who wants to be Judas?

Figuring out who will "preach" the story is the first step. Often it is assumed that one needs to "type-cast" each character. This makes sense, but it can also distract us from allowing the story to preach itself. The ultimate concern is not type-casting, but that each reader pay attention and read with conviction his or her part. So it need not be assumed that the pastor should be Jesus or that all the male characters have male voices. In our parish last year, the voice of Jesus was powerfully heard from the lips of a teenage girl. It was both a refreshing and challenging experience, for it helped us to hear again for the first time the powerful words of Jesus.

But who wants to be Judas? Who wants to be "the betrayer"? There is sometimes an amusing moment when someone is strong-armed into being this character that nobody wants to be. But for Matthew the role of Judas is no laughing matter. Judas' deep remorse and regret, in fact, are unique to Matthew's passion account.

In Matthew's gospel alone, Judas repents. After betraying him to death for thirty pieces of silver, Judas (we can assume from Matthew's narrative) is "following at a distance" like Peter. When Judas abruptly enters the narrative as the first disciple to witness Jesus' handing over to Pilate, it is assumed that he has been watching the religious trial in Caiaphas' courtyard:

   When Judas, his betrayer, saw that
   he was condemned, he repented and
   brought back the thirty pieces of silver
   to the chief priests and the elders, saying,
   "I have sinned in betraying innocent
   blood" (Matthew 27:3-4a RSV).

There is some exegetical murkiness, however, about whether Judas really repents. His suicide a few verses later raises a lot of post-Augustinian red flags. But it would also appear that Matthew's choice of word for "repent," [TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII] rather than the more common [TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII], surely indicates deeply remorseful feelings and regrets, but not "true repentance" that leads to a wholesale change of mind and heart in one's relation to God. (1)

The clean distinction between [TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII] and [TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII], however, fades when one encounters the general Hellenistic literature. (2) If we presume the Gospel writer's public proclamation of the passion as inherited from an earlier-popular oral tradition, might not the story fall into this category of "general literature" for a Hellenistic world that seeks to heighten Judas' deeply remorseful feelings rather than split theological hairs?

To add to the murkiness, Judas, in fact, makes an explicit confession to the official religious leaders: "I have sinned in betraying innocent blood." Remarkably, he makes no excuses for his sin. Moreover, the priests have the power to drop the false charges against Jesus. Does Judas intend to right his wrong? Finally, giving back thirty pieces of silver is no small matter for a man presumed to be greedy.

If Judas had not fallen into the despair of suicide, might he have heard the same words of peace that Jesus offered to the other eleven disciples after his resurrection? And without Augustine's teachings on suicide hanging over our head, might Matthew be inviting us to identify with Judas?

A Lutheran Judas

A compelling reading of the passion narrative invites the hearer into the darkest depths of human sin. Can the light of Christ shine on even so tragic a character as Judas? If you might be so bold as to offer a "brief devotional commentary" (as the Evangelical Lutheran Worship rubrics suggest) (3), consider taking up Matthew's challenge to pay attention to Judas. His tragic end invites a word of mercy and compassion for those whose sin wholly overcomes them.

Not so long ago, it was presumed there would be no forgiveness for someone whose life ended so tragically. None of us is literally Judas, of course, so it's easy to keep our distance and say, "Well, at least I'm not that bad!" Yet consider these words from the most recent translation of the well-known Lutheran passion hymn, "Ah, Holy Jesus":

   Who was the guilty? Who brought this
   upon thee?

   Alas, my treason, Jesus, hath undone
   thee.

   'Twas I, Lord Jesus, I it was denied thee;

   I crucified thee. (4)

We may presume to stand with Jesus, but we are also bound with Judas as a fellow sinner. Indeed, if we believe the words we sing, we are no better or worse than he is!

What Judas needs, and what we need, is what the church of Jesus Christ has been offering from the very beginning: unconditional mercy and forgiveness. Judas went to the wrong priests to confess his sins. He received no absolution but rather a callous "What is that to us? See to it yourself." Jesus' blood is on Judas' hands, but Judas' blood is on the priests hands! (Matt 27:4b RSV)

The church is called to say the words of absolution in the face of deep remorse and regret, as well as to have compassion for the tragic end of a fellow human being. We are called not to run away from the dark corners of human life but to boldly walk toward them, and dare to shine the light of forgiveness and peace that can come only from Jesus.

Only forgiveness leads to true repentance. Forgiveness must and always come first. Judas assumes he's unforgivable. We are called to say otherwise, and to confess that the God of the cross intercedes for all sinners--even for those as tragic as Judas.

   Lo, the Good Shepherd for the sheep
   is offered;

   the slave hath sinned, and the Son
   hath suffered;

   for our atonement, while we nothing
   heeded,

   God interceded. (5)

Nathan Baker-Trinity

April 17, 2014

Maundy Thursday

Exodus 12:1-4,[5-10], 11-14

Psalm 116:1-2, 12-19

1 Corinthians 11:23-26

John 13:1-17, 31b-35

First Reading

As with other feasts that re-use the same lectionary selections year after year, the frequent hearing of these texts challenges us to remain intentional about receiving them with fresh ears--listening perhaps more with the heart than with the head.

The readings that launch us into the Triduum are aptly chosen table teachings that bridge the centuries between Jewish Passover, the Last Supper, and the Christian Eucharist. They focus us on food, faith, and feet, and bid us to remember.

The call to remembrance begins in the Exodus text that roots the Jewish community in the annual Seder celebration, remembering the night when God's judgment broke forth in Egypt. The ritual meal recalls the details of the long ago event, with the food itself carrying the memories. The ancient story of deliverance is re-told and once more made present, proclaiming the faith that the LORD continues to act for liberation of God's people. They are to eat with shod feet, in readiness to be sent out when called.

Paul's teaching to the Christian community at Corinth reflects the heart of the traditio, handed down as sacred story from Jesus himself. The core memories once again are carried by food and drink--the bread and wine of Passover are imbued with new meanings. Faith is proclaimed in the breaking of the bread, recalling hands and feet that will be pierced in death and poured-out blood that will forge a new covenant.

"Do this in remembrance of me." The invitation to those at table is into anamnesis, a deep and abiding recollection which brings what is memory once again into present reality. As with the Seder celebration, the story is told not merely as past event but as current proclamation in which we participate: "This is my body that is for you." To remember here is not mere mental activity but wholehearted reception of the presence of the Risen Christ in our midst and in our lives.

The gospel text leads us into that wholehearted embodiment, from food to faith to feet. To remember Jesus, to re-connect with his animating presence, leads to concrete action. Here the washing of the feet flows directly from the sacred meal. The mandatum that gives this feast its name--"love one another as I have loved you"--cannot be separated from the remembrance of the meal. The table teaching "do this" moves us directly from the sharing of bread and wine to the embodiment of Christ-like love in tender care for the other.

Pastoral Reflections

"May I wash your shoes?" asked the elderly campesina as I trudged into the tiny Salvadoran village holding leather sandals dripping with mud. Outside of the Maundy Thursday ritual, this was the closest I have come to being asked if someone could wash my feet. We had made a long trek on a washed out road, and I must have looked like I needed a hospitable welcome. Her simple gesture was quite humbling to this North American gringa, who apparently had a bit to learn about appropriate footwear. It was one of many gifts I was to receive on that delegation visit to our Salvadoran sister parish in the late 1980s.

From these faithful Christians I first began to learn the depths of the agape love to which Christ calls us. To them the passion of betrayal and torture and death which Jesus speaks about at table was not some long-ago story, far removed from their experience. They have walked a similar via dolorosa. At table, along with generous servings of frijoles and tortillas, they fed us "eucharist" as we marveled at the presence of the Risen Christ in their own flesh and blood: in their trust, their courage, their unwavering commitment in the face of the cross. In turn, we "washed their feet" with the cleansing balm not of water but of a listening heart, as they shared their stories of loss, suffering, and hope.

The preacher would do well to search for stories from one's own experience or community where the raw reality of cross-bearing confronts our faith and we are motivated to embody the kind of love that Jesus lived. This love stretches us way beyond our comfort zone and strips us of all empty platitudes about being "one body in Christ." Perhaps this is why so many still hesitate to be part of the foot-washing ritual that is often included in this liturgy, because in that act we are brought face to foot with another, down on our knees, forced into a moment of surrender and self-giving. How can we continue to encourage this honest vulnerability and to create bonds of Christian community that nurture this kind of foot-washing love?

From these Central American brothers and sisters I also learned about the kind of remembrance to which the Eucharist calls us. Their deep faith shines through when they gather to remember their fallen martyrs with the cry presente!, proclaiming simultaneously that both the Risen Christ and those who have died in his name are truly present with them. They are not simply memory; they are living Body. How can one invoke this sense of "real presence" among those in the congregation? Can we practice such remembrance of the communion of saints that deepens and broadens our sense of church?

Maundy Thursday reminds us that memory is carried in meal, a day to bring ancient faith into present reality and to remember that, together with the Risen Christ and with one another, we are truly one Body--dirty feet and all.

Annette M. Andrews-Lux

April 18, 2014

Good Friday

Isaiah 52:13-53:12

Psalm 22

Hebrews 10:16-25

John 18:1-19:42

First Reading

When probed deeply, each of these four readings for Good Friday is a text that brings hope to the church as it gathers to celebrate the victory of its crucified Lord. However, the rich texture of these Good Friday texts, their length, their familiarity, and their history of interpretation create a potential danger. It is easy to imagine seeing each of these texts only in light of the crucifixion, and not on their own merit, in their own context.

It is tempting, for example, to jump from the Servant Song to the cross, ignoring the original setting of Isaiah. Similarly, it would be tempting to gloss over the depth of the Hebrews text, picking out the crucifixion allusions and failing to allow Hebrews to stand on its own substantial feet.

Psalm 22, serving as a liturgical reflection on the Isaiah 52/53 text, holds a helpful key with which to unlock and connect all the texts of the day while still allowing each its due. That key is hope as seen in verses 3 and 4:

   Yet you are holy, enthroned on the
   praises of Israel.

   In you our ancestors trusted;
   they trusted, and you delivered them.

   To you they cried, and were saved;
   in you they trusted and were not put
   to shame.

Israel, at least a remnant of Israel, trusted and was delivered. They cried and were saved. They were not put to shame. That's what holiness is: hope that does not disappoint.

And each text appointed for Good Friday gives voice to just such a hope. The holiness of God and the subsequent trust of God's people are affirmed in the face of one who suffers as Isaiah's Servant suffers. Hebrews proclaims a similar hope to a young church, "Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who has promised is faithful."

Each in their own way, these texts carry that word of hope. There is no place where human pain and suffering can be driven beyond the reach of our God, not suffering, not even the accursed tree (cp. Deut 21:23). Each reading appointed for Good Friday affirms that there is nowhere we might go that God has not already gone before us. Not even the grave.

These are not texts read at a funeral for Jesus. They are instead the word of God proclaimed to a hopeful and living church. They give voice to the triumph of God over the worst of the world's infirmities and diseases, our souls sin-sick even unto death.

John affirms that in our deepest fear there is inextinguishable hope. Those who carry Jesus to a borrowed tomb serve in secret. They carry in their bodies the age-old affliction with which every citizen of every century is familiar: fear. Yet, there is hope even there, for the tomb is in a garden. An ancient homily for Holy Saturday proclaims, "For the sake of you who left a garden, I was betrayed in a garden, and I was crucified in a garden. See on my face the spittle I received in order to restore to you the life I once breathed into you ... My sleep will rouse you from your sleep in hell." (6) Fear not. There is no place we might go that God has not already gone before us. Not even a garden's grave.

Convinced of the holiness of God in all places, we are bold to proclaim John's counter-cultural, saving word of the cross. More, we are bold to find in that proclamation the timeless support of the prophet Isaiah, the psalmist, and the writer of Hebrews.

Pastoral Reflections

The length, depth, and gravity of these combined pericopes provide the liturgical preacher with a significant challenge, particularly on an occasion when a brief, reflective homily is the norm. What direction to choose, what strand with which to weave a meaningful gospel word into the fabric of contemporary lives? Standing as these texts do in the center of the Triduum, and with John's gospel as the centerpiece of the day's proclamation, a hopeful and transformative word spoken into an aching world from the cross seems both pastoral and wise.

Convinced that the key to unlocking the mystery of both the day and these texts lies in the words of Christ himself, I suggest crafting a homily based on our Savior's final words: It is finished. Some prefer It is accomplished. Either way, hearing those words as the beginning of a new creation rather than as the miserable end of a brief and misunderstood life and ministry will ring a note of victorious cross-crowned triumph. Such a word will be consistent with John's entire passion narrative, indeed his entire gospel.

As at the Genesis account of creation, It is finished. Think of it in this way: It is finished, the new creation has begun. From those arms outstretched in love for the world, Christ by his dying accomplishes the Trinitarian work for which "the Word became flesh and lived among us, full of grace and truth." The blood and water gushing from his pierced side remind the church of the sacraments by which the Spirit will sustain the faithful in the proclamation of this saving word to the recreated cosmos. From the formless void of a borrowed tomb, the Creator will raise up the New Adam, as from the formless void in Genesis all things came into being.

Rather than attribute the unknown servant of Isaiah's Fourth Servant Song as a pre-Christ, let the reading stand instead as a testimony to the longevity of this fallen world's longing for that new creation. "All we like sheep have gone astray/we have all turned to our own way "(Isa 52:6). Could there be any more consistent witness for our separation from the Creator God? Turned to our own ways--incurvatus in se, in Luther-speak--we ache for this moment of cruciform transformation. It is finished, the new creation has begun.

Given this triumphant theme, it is not too early for the Good Friday homilist to point to the coming Vigil, or Easter's dawn. The writer of Hebrews leads the way. Those about to be washed in baptismal waters need this affirmation and assurance. In fact, the whole church celebrating in the Easter victory our baptismal promise of recreation cannot be reminded too soon nor too often: "Let us approach with a true heart in full assurance of faith ... our bodies washed with pure water" (Heb 10:22). We come to the cross, as to the empty tomb, in full assurance of faith.

In the homily of God's Friday, let the preacher be bold to proclaim the gospel hope. We are people transformed by the one who came to live deep in our human flesh, full of grace and truth. John reports that whenjesus received the wine, he said, It is finished. As we receive that body into our own and drink deeply of the wine that is his own offered to us, for us, may we rising from our knees at each Eucharist proclaim, It is finished. It is finished by Christ in us. Through his cross, we are a new creation.

Paul E. Hoffman

April 20, 2014

Easter Day

Acts 10:34-43

Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24

Colossians 3:1-4

Matthew 28:1-10

In post-World War II England, a Cambridgeshire priest preaches to his congregation on Easter Sunday:

   'We are Easter people,'.... 'This is not
   one day out of three hundred and sixty-five,
   but the mainspring of our faith,
   We carry the Easter message each day
   of our lives, lives in which the pain of
   the Cross and the suffering of humanity
   are followed by the uncomprehended
   magnitude of the Resurrection.'...
   The elderly looked benevolent and
   grateful, but the younger widows from
   the war carried a grief that could not
   be assuaged. [He] stressed that God
   must be one with whom humanity's
   pain and loneliness can identify, but he
   could tell that some of his parishioners
   could only look back at him and say,
   'Not this pain. Not this loneliness.' (7)

When you bring the resurrection word in your communities this Easter, you will look out and see the same faces of blessing and comfort, doubt and despair. The texts for this day bring that whole spectrum to your preaching. When we gather, we do so not in some questionable historical anomaly of death and life, but in the here and now of the presence of a living Savior. At the Eucharist we proclaim Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again. The heart of Easter is this fact: the cross and death are our past, risen life is our present, and God holds our future in hope.

Acts 10:34-43

Although the lectionary allows for an Old Testament reading in this place (Jer 31:1-6), one of the joys of the texts for the preacher in the whole Easter season is the series of first readings from Acts. Over the Great Fifty Days of Easter we hear Luke's narrative of how the first Christians established their communities of risen life and new faith. Hearing these texts (and perhaps preaching the series) brings fresh energy to our life as Christians. As Peter and Paul and all the others find their way in the culture of their day, so they can help us find our way in our day.

This text from chapter 10 comes from the story of Peter's great awakening to the inclusivity of God's grace. Having chosen to return to the home of the Roman centurion Cornelius and sit at table with him and his gentile household, Peter exclaims with real joy about the power of the good news of Jesus. Note these verses: 34--"I truly understand that God shows no partiality;" 36--"the message [God] sent ... preaching peace by Jesus Christ;" 41--"witnesses ... who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead." Peter's statement draws a picture of new communities of resurrection, where all eat and drink together just as Jesus did with the disciples and just as Peter has done in the house of Cornelius. This text is a wonderful opportunity to point people to the inclusivity of the meal God sets before us week after week, and how we experience anew the joy of the Easter feast every time we gather around that table.

Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24

The appointed psalm is the same in all three years. Using the familiar verse 24 as a repeated theme or congregational response throughout the sermon can be effective: "This is the day that the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. "

Colossians 3:1-4

This beautiful and mysterious text is part of the liturgical, celebrative style of Colossians and echoes some of the cosmic glory of the great hymn in 1:15-20. Verse 1 of this reading draws us into a remembrance of our baptism: "So if you have been raised with Christ ... you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God." If you had baptism at the Vigil, or have one on this day, this text provides a particular homiletic entry. This is a present tense text. Although it calls us to set our minds on things that are above, it proclaims that Christ is risen and points us to the future in hope: "When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory."

I heard a powerful sermon on this text on Easter Day, 1978. The preacher told five stories about death: his grandfather, father, mother, a brother and his daughter. They were simple, deathbed narratives, stories of joy at the end of long lives, and stories of great sorrow at the untimely deaths of brother and daughter. After he told the stories, he simply read this text. The words in verse 3, "for you have died and your life is hidden with Christ in God, " drew all his hearers into the mystery of the resurrection. And we understood anew that it is Christ who is our life. It is the privilege of the parish pastor to sit at the deathbeds of the saints. Your own stories with this text may draw your hearers into a new understanding of the powerful reality of death and new life.

Matthew 28:1-10

Although the preacher may use the Easter story in John 20:1-18 (and it is always tempting to do so for its poignancy and power), I encourage preaching the resurrection from Matthew. Mark leaves all in fear. Luke has the men disbelieving the women. Matthew draws together fear and joy in the presence of the Risen One.

The story has many of the favorite images that have come down through the tradition: here is the earthquake, the rolling away of the stone in the presence of the women and the guards, the amazing angel who looked like lightning. Another interesting picture here is of the angel sitting on the stone that has been rolled away. It's like an exclamation point on the action--this tomb is empty and there is now no block between death and life.

In verses 5 and 6, the angel tells Mary Magdalene and the other Mary (not the mother of Jesus), 'Do not be afraid.... Jesus who was crucified ... is not here; for he has been raised. " Then the angel sends them with the word that Jesus has been raised and that they will all meet in Galilee. Matthew reports that the women left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy and on the way Jesus meets them, simply saying, "Greetings!" (The Greek word is Chairete, the root of which is to rejoice or be joyful. Jesus gives them joyful greetings!) And, after they fall at his feet, he tells them, as the angel did, "Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me."

The relationship of Jesus with his disciples is of primary importance for Matthew. The Risen Christ meets the women in joy and speaks of meeting his "brothers." This story of resurrection is the story of new community, new relationships, of sisters and brothers gathered around the family table, the feast of the resurrection. And we come proclaiming the mystery of faith; Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.

The nineteenth century English poet Gerard Manley Hopkins has a poem simply titled Easter. Its closing stanza is food for preacher and hearers as we gather for the Feast of Feasts: Seek God's house in happy throng; /Crowded let [the] table be; /Mingle praises, prayer, and song,/ Singing to the Trinity. Henceforth let your souls alway/Make each morn an Easter Day.

Nancy L. Winder

April 27, 2014

Second Sunday of Easter

Acts 2:14a, 22-32

Psalm 16

1 Peter 1:3-9

John 20:19-31

First Reading

On the second Sunday of Easter the lilies and mums are still vibrant in their displays of blossoms, filling our noses with sweet fragrance. Yet, our ears are filled with lifeless statements of doubt declared from Thomas in the Gospel reading. This is the case each and every year. Why must we annually plummet from the heights of the empty tomb joy to the wallowing pit of refusal and unbelief? Look carefully at Thomas' statements--he has stooped lower than mere doubt, he has sunk all the way to actual refusal to believe (20:25). Thomas is no doubter. He's a refuser. He refuses to believe. Tradition has sold Thomas short--doubt is too soft, too mild to convey his obstinate, emphatic rejection. (8)

Thomas is only part of the Fourth Evangelist's resurrection narrative. Mary, the two disciples present at the empty tomb, the disciples behind the locked doors, and Thomas are all part of the whole resurrection chapter (20). Jesus reveals himself, risen and present, throughout this resurrection narrative. The evangelist's purpose is to bring readers to belief and life in Christ through the use of "signs" (20:30-31). The sign in this chapter is the resurrected, glorified Jesus. In the beginning of the resurrection narrative, as the first witnesses to the resurrection come to believe, their initial question of "Where is the Lord?" moves to "How can the risen Lord be experienced?" (9)

These questions provide a thread that is woven in each one of today's appointed readings. Peter's preaching answers the questions as he bears witness to life in the name of the risen Christ. The psalmist declares abundant life in the Lord God that overcomes fear. The new birth of a witnessing community that lives in hope regardless of what ones' senses can grasp spills out of the verses from 1 Peter.

Jesus himself provides the answers to these questions in the Gospel reading. "I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God" (20:17). Next he commissions the post-Easter community, the Spirit empowered and filled ones who are now sent to witness (20:21). The proclamation of the commissioned witnesses is what elicits Thomas' emphatic refusal. He is not content to believe simply based on the conveyed experience of the others. However, he has misunderstood. His belief isn't to be a product of their experience. Instead, their witness points him to encounter the risen Lord. As is evident throughout this gospel, belief is about an abiding relationship in Christ--life in his name--not simply an assent to a factual statement, experience or doctrine. Consider the Samaritan woman spreading the news of her encounter with Jesus. She pointed others to Jesus. Yet, ultimately their belief was grounded in their own abiding in him (cf. 4:39-42).

Pastoral Reflections

The depth of the evangelist's resurrection narrative allows the lectionary preacher multiple ways to give voice to this annual text. A closer look at Thomas is only one way to approach the pericope. In doing so, however, the preacher has an opportunity to override the dominant tradition of "doubting Thomas," and to redirect the main character focus from Thomas to Jesus.

Thomas' refusal to believe holds up a mirror for us to see ourselves. The preacher can help uncover ways that we construct our own contingencies:

   Unless I see my loved one survive this
   illness ...

   Unless I get the job ...

   Unless I see suffering and disasters in
   this world cease ...

   Unless I feel worthy enough ...

How often does faith rely on what I get out of it? As Jesus meets Thomas, Jesus offers what Thomas has demanded. The evangelist doesn't indicate whether or not Thomas put his finger in the mark of the nails or the pierced side of the crucified Son. Perhaps the silence on this critical detail is the detail. Thomas' own demands are no longer the source of his movement from unbelief to belief. Rather, it is his encounter with the Risen One that causes Thomas to gush forth confessing, "My Lord and my God."

Jesus' coming to Thomas, just as Jesus' encounter with Mary at the empty tomb, and the fearful disciples behind the locked door, inaugurate a post-Easter way of seeing and touching the glorified and risen Christ. Jesus fills his followers with his peace and empowers them with the gift of the Holy Spirit. Furthermore, the presence of the Risen Lord is now found in the witnessing community.

Witness is necessary in this new post-Easter era. Each of the followers in this narrative who experience the Risen Jesus are given authority to serve as witnesses through his command and the work of the Holy Spirit within them (20:17-18, 21-23, 27). Their testimony bears witness to the promises of Jesus and the post-Easter new life in his name (cf. John 2:18-22, 14:27, 16:33).

This resurrection narrative calls us to see, touch, and experience faith in ways that are embodied, yet able to transcend our sensate experiences. The community of believers is not simply a gathering; it serves as a witness to the presence of the glorified Christ. The bread and wine are not mere food and drink; they are the means to encounter the Bread of Life (cf. 6:35). The bath and word become a washing with the Living Water (cf. John 4:10-15).

Thomas, the obstinate refusing one, is a witness of faith that gives permission to believe despite questions, challenges, and feelings of abandonment. Thomas reminds us that our demands for faith cannot grasp the scope of what God has in store for us, nor are they the source of an abiding relationship in Christ. The evangelist's resurrection account proclaims that in the midst of uncertainty, fear, and yes, even unbelief, Jesus enters bringing peace and the fulfillment of the promise of new life in his name.

"Where is the Lord?" "How can the risen Lord be experienced?" They are perennial, ongoing questions that draw us again and again to this resurrection narrative.

Debbie Boyce

(1.) "The reference here is to remorse, not repentance. Judas sees that his action was guilty, and he gives way under the burden. The remorse of Judas ... does not have the power to overcome the destructive operation of sin." Theological Dictionary of the New Testament, Vol. IV, ed. Gerhard Kittel and Geoffrey W. Bromiley, trans. and ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1967), 628.

(2.) "When, therefore, the NT separates the meanings of [TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII] and [TEXT NOT REPRODUCIBLE IN ASCII], it displays a clear awareness of the unchangeable substance of both concepts. In contrast, Hellenistic usage often effaced the boundary between the two words." Ibid, 629.

(3.) Evangelical Lutheran Worship, Leader's Desk Edition (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2006), 36.

(4.) Evangelical Lutheran Worship (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. Minneapolis: Augsburg Fortress, 2006), 349.

(5.) Evangelical Lutheran Worship, 349.

(6.) A Triduum Sourcebook, Gabe Huck and Mary Ann Simcoe, eds. (Archdiocese of Chicago. Chicago: Liturgy Training Publications, 1983), 64-65.

(7.) James Runcie, The Shadow of Death (Bloomsbury, 2012), 206.

(8.) Note that unbelieving (apistos) is the Greek word, not doubt.

(9.) Sandra Schneiders, "Touching the Risen Jesus: Mary Magdalene and Thomas the Twin in John 20," in The Resurrection of Jesus in the Gospel of John, eds., C. Koester and R. Bieringer (Mohr Siebeck: 2008), 165.