Sermons: April 2022

Sunday, April 24, 2022

Jesus Has Left the Planet

April 24, 2022
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Jeremiah 31:31-34; Matthew24:30-44 [1]

We celebrated the Resurrection this last Sunday. The tomb was empty and Jesus, alive again, appeared to the disciples. Then, he ascended. Luke tells us, “He withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven.”[2] The first chapter of The Acts of the Apostles also tells us, “As they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight.”[3] He was gone, and they apparently stopped seeing him in the flesh. There would be, of course, the whole Pentecost event, with the Holy Spirit and tongues of fire, but that was not the same as seeing and touching Jesus. Jesus the person was gone. Sorry folks, you can all go home now. Jesus has left the planet.

They waited for him to come back. You see, he had said he was coming back. In the passage we heard from Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus answers the disciples’ questions about the end of the age by telling them, “They will see ‘the Son of Man coming on the clouds of heaven’ with power and great glory.”[4] And he even goes so far as to tell them, “This generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place.”[5]

The Apostle Paul says basically the same thing in his letters. In fact, there’s a whole section of First Thessalonians where Paul talks about the return of Jesus. A scholar of Paul, Bart Ehrman, summarizes:

This world was soon to end, when the God who created it returned to judge it; those who sided with God would be delivered, and those who did not would experience his wrath. Moreover, the way to side with this God, the creator and judge of all, was by believing in his Son, Jesus, who had died and been raised for the sins of the world and who would return soon for those who believe in him, to rescue them from the impending wrath.[6]

His converts had presumably taken his teaching to heart; they were eagerly awaiting the return of Jesus to deliver them from the wrath that was coming. But Jesus hadn’t returned and something troubling had happened: some of the members of the congregation had died.[7]

Paul tries to explain to them: “For this we declare to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will by no means precede those who have died.”[8] It’s OK, folks. Those who have died just get to be first in line, that’s all. Paul fully expects that Jesus will be coming back before he dies. There’s a small problem here; do you see it? Paul and all the disciples died almost two-thousand years ago, and Jesus hasn’t come back yet.

The Second Coming never happened. There have been many groups, or movements, which have predicted the end times over the centuries. Do you remember the 2012 Mayan calendar phenomenon? When I was serving the First Congregational Church of Western Springs, I was told about a previous pastor who stood on the corner outside the church at midnight, December 31, 1899, fully expecting the rapture. He was looking for a new job the next morning.

Paul wisely doesn’t try to make any predictions about exactly when Jesus is coming. And Jesus didn’t either. Jesus said, “About that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”[9] So, you think you’re good with numbers and you want to do the math? Well, I guess you must know more than Jesus…

Jesus tells us himself that it is pointless to try to predict when the end times will come. You won’t know what day, and it will be at an unexpected hour. But, be ready. Expect the unexpected. Live as if it could happen any time now. And I think that is what Paul, at least, was really trying to get at. We should live our lives in expectation, anticipating with how we live that way of life that will be ours when Christ does return.

Jeremiah, the Old Testament prophet, told us to always be prepared:

The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah… I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, ‘Know the Lord,’ for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.[10]

That is the way we are supposed to live. We are supposed to live as if we all know God. We are supposed to live as if the law of God is written on our hearts. Love God… and love your neighbor… you shall put these words on your heart and on your soul.

So, if Paul was right, if Jesus is coming back at any moment, what are you going to do? If you knew that any moment could be your last on earth, what would you do differently than you are doing now?

There is a song by John Mayer called “Waiting on the World to Change.” I always thought of that song as rather passive, just waiting. But if I am waiting expectantly, as if the Lord will appear at any time, I might conduct myself differently. That is what Jesus meant by “Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming.”[11]

A pastor named Hugh Beck has said,

It is amazing how ‘expecting the unexpected’ changes the ordinariness of life into a perpetual flutter of hope. It lightens the darkness. It breaks apart the chains of sin and death with a lively life that leaps for joy. For it knows that the ordinariness with which we are surrounded every day is not the last word. It is not a binding word. Into it and around it and through it there is a God who has transformed this ordinariness into an unexpected extraordinariness.[12]

Seeing the extraordinary hidden within the ordinary is one of the ways in which the Church stays ready and awake. Seen from a distance, Jesus was a pretty ordinary traveling holy man. You would have to follow him around for a while, listen to what he said, and watch what he did, in order to begin to see what an unusual person he was.

Even his crucifixion might have been seen as just a tragic injustice perpetrated by a sick imperial system, were it not for what happened three days later. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people – Jews, rebels, political prisoners – were crucified by the Romans in Judea. But wrapped up in the life and death of this person in particular was the world-changing power of God.

And it is only because of the Church, formed out of those scattered and fearful disciples, that the meaning of Jesus has been, and is still being, revealed. In a most extraordinary and unexpected way, God not only changed the course of the world but also brought life into the midst of our dying, restored hope where hope had vanished, and brought light into utter darkness.[13]

There is something extraordinary hidden within the waters that were poured on us at our baptism and the bread and cup we receive at the table of the Lord. To the casual eye, it is the same water we use to wash dishes and the same bread and wine that we serve at dinner. “But when we hear Jesus speak to us and say that hidden there within the water and bread and wine, he is present for us, we believe and know that this is the washing of grace, the bread of heaven, the cup of salvation. To expect the unexpected here is to receive life and hope and a new vision of what our lives can be by the blessing of God.”[14]

Amen.

[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

[2] Luke 24:51.

[3] Acts 1:9.

[4] Matthew 24:30.

[5] Matthew 24:34.

[6] Bart D. Ehrman, The New Testament: A Historical Introduction to the Early Christian Writings, 3^rd ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000, 2004), 307.

[7] Ibid., 312.

[8] 1 Thessalonians 4:15.

[9] Matthew 24:36.

[10] Jeremiah 31:31-34.

[11] Matthew 24:42.

[12] Hugh Beck, from: http://www.predigten.uni-goettingen.de/archiv-7/041128-4-e.html.

[13] Ibid., paraphrased.

[14] Ibid., paraphrased.

Sunday, April 17, 2022

Appearances

April 17, 2022 – Easter Sunday
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Isaiah 65:17-25; Luke 23:55 - 24:12[1]

He appeared. He had been arrested in the garden of Gethsemane, and some of them had even seen him crucified. At early dawn, on the third day, the women found the stone had been rolled away. There was no body in the tomb. It seemed an idle tale to the apostles.

And then the most amazing, unexpected, incredible thing happened. He appeared. He appeared to Peter, “The Rock,” one of the closest companions of Jesus. Though Peter had denied knowing him in the courtyard of the high priest, Jesus appeared.

He appeared on the road, as two of them traveled to Emmaus. At first their eyes were kept from recognizing him, and they told their story to one they thought a stranger. For them, it was at the table, when he took the bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. He appeared.

He appeared to the eleven. They were the ones who had followed him, learned from him, and served beside him, and yes, those who had fled at his arrest. He appeared to more than five hundred people at one time.

And, most amazingly, especially to Paul, he appeared to Paul! Paul, who, before his conversion, had tried to destroy the early Christian community, and who considered himself unfit to be called an apostle. Even so, Jesus appeared to Paul.

He appeared to Mary Magdalene in the garden, and called her by name. He appeared to Thomas, who doubted, and had to be convinced. He appeared to many others, throughout the centuries, and he is appearing still.

These days, when people say Jesus appeared to them, most of us scoff, or say under our breath, “this ought to be good.” I mean, really? Where was he this time? The image of Jesus has appeared in some strange places. He has appeared on a cheese pizza, in a water stain on some drywall, in ketchup on the side of a plastic bottle. These appearances can be amusing, and it is easy to explain how our brains form patterns out of chaos. But these are not what I’m talking about when I say Jesus appeared.

When Jesus appeared to Mary, Paul, Peter, and Thomas, it was not a face appearing on a loaf of bread. When Jesus appeared, it was a presence. What Mary experienced was no abstract image. Quite the contrary, the moment shared between the two of them was tangible, emotional, and deeply personal. He called her by name, “Mary,” and the sound of her name spoken by him rushed through her, touched all of her senses, and brought to life her broken, aching heart. Something within her shifted, and she was transformed by the experience.

This is how we all want to experience God. Like Mary, we long to be known by God. We want to be loved and cared for, to be held in the gaze of the one who knows us best. We want to be known in the deepest, most intimate corners of our hearts, our bodies, our past and present and future, in all that we hope for and all that we have lost. We want to experience the Living God as real and grounded, as a presence that touches all our senses.

I have heard my name spoken in this way. In the midst of an amazing worship experience, surrounded by cherished friends, I walked up to take communion. As I took the bread, I heard my name, and looked into the eyes of love, and Christ appeared. In my mind I know that it was just my friend Scott, offering me the cup of grape juice. But someplace beyond my mind’s power to know, I was touched in a way that I can still feel.

Perhaps you have also heard your name spoken and felt the world shift into place. Perhaps your world has been shattered, and in your confusion and loss you have experienced the presence of arms that held you and would not let go. Perhaps you have been overflowing with guilt and shame for what you have done, and in that moment when the bottom fell out you were lifted, and the pain fell away, and you breathed the fresh scent of a new day.

God appears. Not as often as we would like, not as obviously as we would like, but God appears. We may have to step outside of our daily experiences and embrace the mystery of what cannot be explained. We may have to walk in the garden at daybreak. We may have to climb a mountain. We may have to sail beyond the sight of land. But that is not the only way to become aware of the presence of God.

As people of faith, we are called to the mystery, but we are also called to live in the day-to-day, ordinary world. We must attend to our inner, spiritual lives, and strengthen our intellect, but we are also called to attend to our senses and our physical being. Jesus appears in ways that can be seen, touched, heard, smelled, and tasted, and it is important for us to hone these senses as well.

In the community of faith, as the gathered church, we experience Christ physically, emotionally, and communally. Christ can be known in the light shining through the windows, in the scent of the lilies, in the heft of the hymnal, or the thin pages of the Bible sitting heavy in our laps. Christ can be known in the taste of the bread and wine, or the sound of music that moves us deep within.

You didn’t come to church this morning simply to hear me talk about how Jesus loves you and wants you to share that love with the world. You are here because your bodies, all of your senses, need to be reminded that God lives. You came to have the unconscious and the ordinary stirred up within you and given new energy, new hope, and a renewed purpose. You are here because the life that could not be destroyed on the cross is ready to stage a resurrection in you.

The stone has been removed. A familiar voice is calling. May Christ appear to you this day, and every day. Amen.

Thursday, April 14, 2022

No Longer, But Not Yet

April 14, 2022 – Maundy Thursday
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Matthew 26:17-35, 27:27-38; Mark 15:1-15, 33-39; Luke 22:39-46; John 19:38-42 [1]

It is difficult to experience when something is no longer. We can’t wait for that feeling to be over. But it is worth it to take the time to stop, feel, think, pray, read, and dream. Even when it is painful, it can be valuable to acknowledge the pain before we try to escape from it. It is worth taking the time to grieve a loss, to feel the ache and not try to end it too quickly. It is important to mourn the death of a dream, if only so that we may let it go and begin the search for a new vision. And it is vital that we take the time to pray, to focus our attention on our relationship with God and perhaps experience Emmanuel, God-with-us.

That is why we remember those holy days. The day Jesus at the Last Supper he would have with the disciples, before he was betrayed, abandoned, arrested, beaten, and crucified, that was the Passover. It was a day of remembering the exodus from slavery in Egypt, remembering the deliverance brought by God. That day, when the crucified body of Jesus lay in the tomb, the day before the resurrected Jesus greeted the women in the garden, was a Sabbath day, a holy day of rest. And though it must have been agony to endure that long, empty day with no work to distract from the pain and loss, perhaps the disciples shared that day what God, too, experienced.

I have been reading a book by a seminary professor of mine, Ted Jennings, called Transforming Atonement[2]. Atonement is what the death of Jesus on the cross means, and how it effects salvation and the reestablishment of the relationship between God and sinners. Some of his thoughts are reflected in this message.

Something powerful happened after that awful day on Golgotha. Something about the way the world had been was fundamentally altered. The force of the powerful, exerted in violence and death, broke like a wave against the rock of mercy and life. The Messiah of God suffered the worst form of death that could be devised by the human mind, yet death and violence would not have the last word. Life refused to be held captive by death. Love refused to be held captive by division. Grace refused to be held captive by sin. Jesus refused to be held captive by the tomb, the stone, or even the guard of soldiers.

No longer could it be said that the way of violence and domination would rule the world. Jesus refused to engage in violence, and did not lead the battle to overthrow the occupying power of Rome. Instead, he engaged in a deliberate strategy of resistance to, and indeed provocation of, those who wielded the force of empire. Professor Jennings used the phrase nonviolent militancy to describe the way that Jesus used persuasion rather than force, justice and mercy rather than violence and ruthlessness, to overcome the world.[3] In the last century, the nonviolent tactics used by Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King, Jr. demonstrated that nonviolent militancy may be the way of God in the world.

No longer could it be said that God had no regard for human suffering. God became a weak and vulnerable human being, a mortal who, in Job’s words, “comes up like a flower and withers, flees like a shadow and does not last.”[4] When we and those we love are subjected to bodily suffering such as sickness, injury, and death, we know that God understands because God has lived in our flesh. Jesus spent much of his time surrounded by those who suffered, never drawing back but reaching out to touch, to heal, and to set free.

No longer could it be said that sin turns God against us. Jesus welcomed many who were regarded as sinners, and did not condemn the woman caught in adultery. “Indeed,” as John’s Gospel states, “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”[5]

No longer could it be said that God was distant and separated from humanity. As Jesus cried out and breathed his last, the curtain of the temple was torn in two. The purpose of the curtain was to separate the Holy of Holies, the sacred place of God’s presence, from the profane world of humanity. The role of the priests and the systems of sacrifice, intended to mediate between humanity and God, and to maintain the separation between humanity and God, was destroyed in this moment. No longer is God separated from the world in which we live, but is instead dispersed among humanity.[6] Emmanuel has truly come.

And yet, despite all that has changed in the world over two-thousand years, we live most of the time as if it is still Saturday and not yet Easter. Despite Jesus, Gandhi, MLK, and many others, violence and domination are still used to control the world. Despite all the advances of technology, medicine, and therapy, suffering is still the daily experience of most of the people in the world. Despite Paul’s assertion that “There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus,”[7] those who call themselves Christian regularly accuse and condemn the sins of others. And despite the torn temple curtain, and our annual singing of “O Come, O Come Emmanuel,” we often feel like God is distant and uninterested in the day-to-day aspects of our lives.

We no longer live in a world ruled by the domination and violence of the Roman Empire as it was experienced by Jesus and the disciples. But we do not yet live in the kingdom of God, either. We live in a world that rules by violence, exclusion, and judgment. But the mission of Jesus is also not yet over. We are invited to participate in that mission, to transform the world of violence into a world of solidarity, of generosity, of justice, peace, and joy.[8] Let us walk with God, who came, not in power and might, but in the cross of the Messiah.[9]

[2] Theodore W. Jennings, Jr., Transforming Atonement: A Political Theology of the Cross (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2009).

[3] Ibid., 59.

[4] Job 14:2.

[5] John 3:17.

[6] Jennings, 143.

[7] Romans 8:1.

[8] Jennings, 215.

[9] Ibid.

Sunday, April 10, 2022

Jesus Christ the Outlaw

April 10, 2022 – Palm Sunday
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29; Luke 19:28-40 [1]

He’s been called by many names: Prince of Peace, the Nazarene, Teacher, Mighty Counselor, Rabbi, Prophet. The disciples reported that he was called John the Baptist, Elijah, or another ancient prophet. We know him as Messiah, Christ, Savior. But when he entered Jerusalem that Sunday, as the crowd waved palms in the air, there were some who thought of him in a different way.

He was an outlaw, a trouble maker, a rabble-rouser who hung out with sinners, tax collectors, even (sniff) fishermen. Those in power were threatened by him. John’s Gospel tells us, “Now the chief priests and the Pharisees had given orders that anyone who knew where Jesus was should let them know, so that they might arrest him.”[2] They came for him, finally, at the end of that week, and when they caught him, Jesus said, “Have you come out with swords and clubs to arrest me as though I were a bandit?”[3]

I mean really, what had he done that was so bad? Matthew tells us that “At that time Jesus went through the grainfields on the sabbath; his disciples were hungry, and they began to pluck heads of grain and to eat. When the Pharisees saw it, they said to him, ‘Look, your disciples are doing what is not lawful to do on the sabbath.’”[4] Breaking the laws about doing work on the sabbath could get you in trouble.

Maybe it was because he kept forgiving people’s sins. The scribes said, “Why does this fellow speak in this way? It is blasphemy! Who can forgive sins but God alone?”[5] Maybe it was because of that whole “God is my Father” business. According to John, they wanted to kill him, “because he was not only breaking the sabbath, but was also calling God his own Father, thereby making himself equal to God.”[6]

There were some who clearly labeled him because of the company he kept. A tax collector, some fishermen, a bunch of women with questionable history – they were quite a motley crew. And Jesus even called them out on it. He said, “The Son of Man has come eating and drinking, and you say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’”[7] He must be bad news, I mean, just look at his friends!

I think it probably had something to do with stirring up the crowds, and that show he put on of cleansing the Temple of the buyers and sellers. Whatever the reason, some people had it out for him, and they labeled him “Outlaw.”

There is a song I heard many years ago called “The Outlaw” by Larry Norman. It begins like this:

Some say he was an outlaw;
that he roamed across the land
With a band of unschooled ruffians
and a few old fishermen.
No one knew just where he came from
or exactly what he’d done;
But they said it must be something bad,
it kept him on the run.[8]

Some say he was a poet, a teacher, or maybe a storyteller. Matthew tells us, “When Jesus saw the crowds, he went up the mountain; and after he sat down, his disciples came to him. Then he began to speak, and taught them.”[9] This is the beginning of what is known as the “Sermon on the Mount” which encompasses three chapters of Matthew’s Gospel. The people listened for hours, and even for days. Later in Matthew we hear Jesus say, “I have compassion for the crowd, because they have been with me now for three days and have nothing to eat; and I do not want to send them away hungry, for they might faint on the way.”[10] This begins the story of the “Feeding of the Five-Thousand.”

He taught them in parables, little stories that put the Kingdom of God in metaphorical imagery. “Jesus told the crowds all these things in parables; without a parable he told them nothing.”[11] Here was a poet, or perhaps a master storyteller, who mesmerized the crowds. Mark tells us they were “spellbound.”[12] The parables captured their attention, put the big cosmic questions into terms they could understand, and they were so simple that you could memorize them.

His voice could make the waves stand still. “A great windstorm arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, ‘Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?’ He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, ‘Peace! Be still!’ Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. He said to them, ‘Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?’ And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, ‘Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?’”[13]

Who is this? A magician? Is he a sorcerer? Is he an ancient alien, as the History Channel show would have us believe? “And early in the morning he came walking toward them on the sea. But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, saying, ‘It is a ghost!’ And they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them and said, ‘Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.’”[14] He certainly did many things that can only be described as miraculous. “He could walk upon the water; he could make the blind man see… and did tricks with fish and bread.”[15]

John’s gospel is filled with the mysterious acts of power that Jesus performed. At the wedding in Cana, you might be OK with me leading the ceremony, but Jesus is the one you want at the reception. Wine conjured out of water, six large jars full, and good quality at that![16] John also tells the story of a resurrection that came before Easter. His friend Lazarus, brother of Mary and Martha, had already been in the tomb four days when Jesus arrived. Deeply moved by the grief of Mary, Jesus shows them the glory of God. “He cried with a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’ The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, ‘Unbind him, and let him go.’”[17] This was no zombie. Lazarus was himself again. Of all the amazing signs that Jesus did, this is probably the one which scared the Pharisees the most.

Jesus had another side, the politician. He did not fear the religious authorities, or the Roman authorities. He spoke out, and to large crowds, about the hypocrisy and corruption of the leadership of Israel. During the first days of his ministry, in the synagogue, on the sabbath day, he took up the scroll of Isaiah and read this quote: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free.”[18] And then, in a manner we’re unaccustomed to with our own politicians, he went out and started actually doing it.

The Gospel of Matthew records a series of blessings, from the Sermon on the Mount, but there is also a series of “woes,” almost a tirade against the scribes and the Pharisees, which comes after the entrance to Jerusalem. “Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you lock people out of the kingdom of heaven. For you do not go in yourselves, and when others are going in, you stop them.”[19] “You blind guides! You strain out a gnat but swallow a camel! Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you clean the outside of the cup and of the plate, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence.”[20] Pretty strong stuff. You can imagine Jesus using his fire-and-brimstone voice, and the crowd, at first stunned, soon cheering him on. It’s no wonder they wanted to get rid of him, yet they were afraid of the crowds.

Who do we say that he is? Christ, Son of God, Savior. The people may have expected him to be a conquering hero; that’s likely what the procession into Jerusalem was about. For the Pharisees, that may have been their great fear. He would incite rebellion, and bring down the heavy hand of Rome upon them all. But Jesus didn’t come to be served, but to serve. He told them in many ways, “The greatest among you will be your servant.”[21] He even went so far as to wash the feet of his disciples, just to drive the point home.

So, who is he? “When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, ‘Who is this?’ The crowds were saying, ‘This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.’”[22] Some say he was an outlaw, a poet, a sorcerer, a politician. He is all of those things, and much, much more. This is the Messiah of God, the one who has come to make all things new. He is our loving, forgiving God, revealed in the flesh of a human being, and he has overcome the world. Amen.

[2] John 11:57.

[3] Mark 14:48.

[4] Matthew 12:1-2.

[5] Mark 2:7.

[6] John 5:18.

[7] Luke 7:34.

[9] Matthew 5:1-2.

[10] Matthew 15:32.

[11] Matthew 13:34.

[12] Mark 11:18.

[13] Mark 4:37-41.

[14] Matthew 14:25-27.

[15] Norman.

[16] John 2:1-11.

[17] John 11:43-44.

[18] Luke 4:18.

[19] Matthew 23:13.

[20] Matthew 23:24-25.

[21] Matthew 23:11.

[22] Matthew 21:10-11.

Sunday, April 3, 2022

Lost on the Way

April 3, 2022 – Lent 5
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Isaiah 43:16-21; John 12:1-8 [1]

They were having dinner in the home of Lazarus. Just a few verses earlier in John’s gospel, Lazarus was raised from the dead. I imagine there was conversation around the table that night about death. The chief priests and Pharisees planned to put Jesus to death, and the word was out that they were looking for him. The writing was on the wall, and Mary knew that her time with the Lord was running short. So in an extravagant act of love and devotion, she anoints the feet of Jesus.

We are not given to such startling displays of emotion. We are much more reserved, especially in church. We are more likely to respond to such an outburst with embarrassment. We’re more likely to think, like Judas, about the waste of such a precious resource, and of a better use for it. It is much easier for us to push away the thought of death and say to each other “You’ll be fine.” Even when death is inevitable, even when we know it is coming, we find it difficult to cope with.

Mary understood. Mary knew that life is fragile, even the life of Jesus, and that there is a time to really show how much we love someone. There are often flowers at the funeral, but they are perhaps more fitting in the hospital room. “The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume” (v. 3). The ambiance shifted as love was poured out. Was the scent of the perfume still with him at the end of that week? The memory of her act was surely still with him when he washed the feet of the disciples. Mary understood, she expressed her love and devotion, and in her actions revealed a glimpse of the extravagant love that God pours out on us.

Then Judas, the cynic, critiques the wasteful display. The mood shifts again to tension. And in response Jesus says: “You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me” (v. 8). Jesus is not saying that poverty is inevitable, that there will always be poor people. Rather, Jesus is telling them that you will always have people in your life who need your love and care. You will always have work to do to relieve suffering, heal sickness and brokenness, to bring hope and joy and peace. Even after Jesus is gone, the work of the disciples will go on.

The work will go on, and sometimes, you will not have Jesus with you. Sometimes you will get lost on the way, and there won’t be a guide, or a map, or GPS, or starlight, and you will have to carry on anyway. Sometimes your faith will leave you, even though your responsibilities don’t. Sometimes you will have a dark night of the soul, but you will still have to get up in the morning to feed the children.

Sometimes we lose touch with the meaning in our lives. Sometimes we’re doing good things, and other people appreciate us for what we are doing, yet we don’t feel it. We don’t feel inspired, connected, or engaged. Sometimes we just go through the motions.

There are times when we will have it all together. We will feel the meaning and importance of what we’re doing. We’ll know where we’re going, and why, and we’re ready. Sometimes all of the signs are in sight, we’re on the right track, and things are going great!

But then the wheels come off, and we get derailed. There might be something specific that throws us off our groove, some great loss or unexpected change, and what was all good and right yesterday is missing today. The job, or the relationship, or the class-work is still there, the obligations and tasks are still there, but it no longer feels the same. I’ve got a lot to do, but why am I doing it?

Jesus tells the disciples “you will not always have me” (v. 8). You will know darkness and despair. You will feel alone and unprepared. You will look for me and you will not find me. On that Saturday, so long ago, the disciples were faced with unbearable loss, and felt pain as they never had before. And we have, or we will, feel it too. It is the crashing wave of emptiness that washes over you when, instead of the beloved soldier, it is the officer, and the chaplain, who knock at the door. It is the dust falling over the city when you watched the towers fall, and those who rushed in did not come back out. It is the stabbing pain that causes you to fall when you arrive at the school only to be carefully escorted by the police officer toward the counselors. It is the silence of the watch in the night when the boat does not return to the harbor.

But take courage; you can survive this night. If you feel as if you’re lost and the way is no longer clear; if you feel like the Way, the Truth, and the Life have blown away on the wind; if you seek for Christ, for a sign that God is there, for the whisper of the Spirit and you find nothing; do not despair. It doesn’t mean that there is something wrong with you. It doesn’t mean that you haven’t been faithful. It means that you are living through a part of the journey of faith that we all experience. We all get lost on the way. Even Jesus, on the cross, felt forsaken.

The exile began in 587 bce, when, after Jerusalem and its temple were conquered and destroyed by Babylon, some of the survivors were marched into exile in Babylon some 800 miles away. There they lived as refugees, far from home and oppressed. There was sadness, loneliness, and grief. The people yearned for home and a place where they belonged. Many lost their sense of meaning and purpose. Fifty years later, in 539 bce, the Babylonian Empire was conquered by the Persians, who allowed them to return to their homeland.

The life of faith is about love and joy, hope and peace, and the deep connection with God that feels as close as Mary wiping the feet of Jesus with her hair. The journey of faith is also about loss, separation, loneliness, exile, and the vast distance between us and God. And faith is about the journey home, the renewal, rekindling, and rebirth of life, and love, and hope. In the depths of your darkness, take heart my friends. We are survivors, and we can return from exile. We are a resurrection people, and today, tomorrow, and the next day, the tomb is empty.

Elissa Johnk, a Pastor in Vermont, tells this story:

There once was a man who made beautiful things with trees. His hands, dirty and calloused, seemed to meld into the rich, rough bark with which he labored. He chose his materials carefully, looking for things that others considered flaws: here was the year of heavy rain. There, it had suffered - the black tattoo of a fire scarring the yearly rings. In his hands, those disfigurements were beautiful. Indeed, they were the focal points of the tree’s new creation - signs that it had seen hardship, and survived.

And when he was done transforming trees, he moved on to people. In the same way, he looked for what others considered flaws - sins and scars. And, in his hands, people found their wounds became beauty marks - signs that they had seen hardship, and survived. Many, however, didn’t want their wounds exposed, and so they sent him back to the trees.

The trees greeted him lovingly, the darkness of his skin once again melding with the wood. As he had once done for them, they stretched him into a new form - one where his wounds were the centerpieces of new life. Our new life.

You see, we tell this story not out of guilt, but hope. Hope that, in its telling, we might feel our wounds exposed. That we might feel our sins, our scars – our very selves – melded to the cross. That we might feel ourselves being carved, stretched by the Master Carpenter into a new form – one that allows us to proclaim not simply “He is risen!” But, “I am risen!” too.