Something Bigger Is Going On

March 13, 2022 – Lent 2
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Philippians 3:17 - 4:1; Luke 13:31-35[1]

It’s nice to be part of something bigger than yourself. In sports, its being part of the team. In school, its being part of the musical. In business, its being part of the company. In church, its being part of the choir. Being part of something bigger than ourselves allows us to accomplish more than we could on our own. It also allows us to share the joy of success and the agony of failure. I’m more than just me, I’m one of US. We won. WE did it. We’ll get through this together.

It felt great to cheer on the U.S. Olympians. You could feel the joy, the energy of the event, and that’s something we can all take part in. That’s us out there, twirling on the ice, racing down a ski slope.

Trouble is, even when we’re part of “us”, the “me” can take over. Like it or not, our world is obsessed with status and power. It’s not a bad thing to be the best, the most powerful, the one in control. What is bad is when that status and power is used to belittle, harm, or oppress others. It is that kind of power – corrupted power, abusive power – that is challenged by a kingdom where the last will be first and the first will be last.

The Herod that the Pharisees warn Jesus about is Herod Antipas, son of Herod the Great we hear about in the Christmas narrative. The kingdom of Herod the Great was divided upon his death, and Herod Antipas inherited the territories of Galilee and Perea. Then the Romans conquered the entire region. Herod was left to rule Galilee as a client state of the Roman Empire. His hold on power was tenuous; and Herod ruled only so long as he toed the line with Rome.

Fearing any threat to his power, Herod has already had John the Baptizer beheaded. Now Jesus is travelling Galilee preaching an upside-down kingdom. Not only will the first be last, but the last – those who have been kept down, treated like dirt, and ignored – they will rise to the top. This is not good news to Herod, and he responds to this threat to his power with his own threat of death. Yet his fear for himself misses the bigger story that is unfolding.

The mission and method of Jesus are rooted in the history of the prophets of Israel. The imagery here recalls the ancient promises of God’s care for Israel, but also God’s judgment when the people fail to be faithful in their covenant. Like Isaiah and Zechariah before him, Jesus speaks of gathering the scattered children of Israel and bringing them under the protective wings of God’s love. And like the earlier prophets, the words of Jesus go unheeded: “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

This lament gives us a glimpse of the true identity of Jesus, and hints at what is to come. He will continue with his work and face the danger that waits in Jerusalem with the same resolve and devotion a mother feels for her children.

I once read a story by N.T. Wright, a retired Anglican bishop, which described a fire in the hen house, and the aftermath:

Those cleaning up have found a dead hen, scorched and blackened, and live chicks sheltering under her wings. She has quite literally given her life to save them. It is a vivid and violent image of what Jesus declared he longed to do for Jerusalem and, by implication, for all Israel. But, at the moment, all he could see was chicks scurrying off in the opposite direction, taking no notice of the smoke and flames indicating the approach of danger, nor of the urgent warnings of the one who alone could give them safety.[2]

What a metaphor for God’s maternal love for everyone, even those who turn away, even those who reject and stone the prophets, even those who would kill to protect their power and privilege.

To be a prophet is to speak truth to power, to challenge those in authority when they fail to uphold their responsibilities. The kingdom Jesus proclaims is a threat to powers everywhere, to Herod of Galilee, certainly, but also to the Roman Governor of Jerusalem, and, perhaps more importantly, even the powerful in the villages. “Jesus went through one town and village after another,” (v. 22) with this message about the first and the last. Every town is a seat of power, and lives are more easily destroyed by local people than by distant policies. The people that Jesus meets one-by-one as he does his work have been hurt more by violence, shame, and exclusion committed by their neighbors than they have been hurt by the Romans. Jesus isn’t just taking on one provincial ruler.

Jesus is not just coming to overthrow this ruler or that, but to overthrow every human heart. All this stuff that seems so important: power, status, control, they mean nothing in God’s realm. What matters most is the love that we show to one another. Lent is the season of the church when we reevaluate our relationship with God and examine the ways we live that lead us toward death and destruction. This is the time to face what we fear and prepare ourselves to follow Jesus on the way to Jerusalem.

I find it curious that it’s the Pharisees who bring the warning. The Pharisees have been listening, and they know that their power is threatened as well. Why, then, would they warn Jesus of what is coming? One scholar suggests:

More than likely they have ulterior motives. Possibly they are in league with Herod and hope to drive Jesus out of Herod’s jurisdiction, into the arms of Pilate and Pilate’s responsibility. Then, like a state governor in our day passing on responsibility to federal authorities, at least Herod cannot be blamed for the results of this troublemaker’s actions. Maybe Pilate can figure out a way to get rid of Jesus altogether.[3]

In response, Jesus doesn’t hold back. He lets the Pharisees and Herod know he is not politically naïve. Listen! You tell that fox that I’m working on something bigger than he knows. I must be on my way, and your threats won’t stop me. Maybe Herod does want to kill me, but there is something bigger, something more important going on here. I won’t stop in the provinces. When I finish my work, I’m going to Jerusalem. Pilate will see me soon enough. I’m not just going down to Springfield, but all the way to Washington. And I’m fully aware of what they do to prophets there.

“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it!” (v. 34) I almost expect the next line to call for the destruction of the city. But here Jesus turns the tables again. It’s not a hound standing up to the fox; instead, it’s a hen trying to comfort her chicks. “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings.” You poor people with your little kingdoms, your tiny circles of power, don’t you see that you are just caught up in the storm, chirping into the wind, driven by your fear to run from the very security you seek? This life of power and control that you defend with such anxiety, this life is not what God wants for you.

As Paul writes to the church in Philippi, there is a way of life that makes you an enemy of the cross of Christ. “Their end is destruction; their god is the belly; and their glory is in their shame; their minds are set on earthly things” (v. 19). The message that Jesus brings is that things can be different. We don’t have to live this way. Life is bigger than power. Life is bigger than status. Life is bigger than fear.

We could live as if ruling one small piece of this world is all that is important. “But our citizenship is in heaven.” We belong to something bigger than what is happening in this little town, this province, this state. We are members of the commonwealth of heaven. We are the Body of Christ. We are part of something much bigger than ourselves.

We have been given gifts from God, talents, skills, and we can use them to shape this world into something better. When we use them together, we can make a remarkable difference in the lives of people here in Union, in Illinois, in the United States, and around the world. We are part of the Body of Christ, members of the household of God. We are all in this together – our friends, our neighbors, our classmates, our co-workers, and even our enemies, our homeless and hungry brothers and sisters, and all the living beings that cover the face of the globe. We may face danger, and we might have to walk the way that leads to the cross, but God waits for us on the other side, with love stronger than death.

Therefore, my brothers and sisters, stand firm in the Lord in this way, my beloved. Live according to the example we have in Christ. And when the time comes, let us say: “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.” Amen.

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[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] N. T. Wright, quoted in: http://i.ucc.org/StretchYourMind/OpeningtheBible/WeeklySeeds/tabid/81/articleType/ArticleView/articleId/382/Strong-and-Tender-Feb-22-28.aspx.

[3] Rodney Clapp, “Pastoral Perspective” on Luke 13:31-35 in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year C, Vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), p. 70.

Crosses

February 28, 2021
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Mark 8:31-38[1]

Almost every Christian gathering place has one. Often made of gold, silver, or brass, sometimes of wood, glass, or even plastic, they hold a depiction of Christ crucified or stand empty to symbolize resurrection. The cross, the Roman tool of public execution, is a focal point, present in almost every sanctuary, chapel, and home where God in Christ is worshiped.

That was where the journey of Jesus was headed. He knew it. His message was too disruptive, too threatening to the powerful for him to be ignored or swept aside. The empire lined the roads with them, the crucified rebels, bandits, and thieves. Go against the power of Rome and this will be your end. Jesus knew where the journey would take him.

He knew also that his path would set him against the religious authorities, the chief priests, the elders, and the scribes. They would be disturbed, disrupted by this holy man who healed on the sabbath and tried to connect people to God, not through the Temple with its economy of sacrifices, but directly, without intermediary. Not loved, but tolerated by the empire, the religious leaders feared the heavy hand of Rome would crush them given any excuse. Yet Jesus knew they would reject him, said so openly, and tried to teach the disciples that this was the way.

Until now, the disciples had mainly heard the parables, witnessed the healings, and experienced a few miracles. The death of John the Baptist had been upsetting, but not unnerving. Excitement is building. The foreshadowing of the crucifixion and resurrection comes as Peter has just proclaimed his belief that Jesus is the Messiah. Perhaps knowing that they did not truly grasp the meaning of that title, Jesus begins to teach them about betrayal, denial, suffering, death, and still unimagined resurrection. You’ve come this far with me, he seems to say, do you think you’re ready for what comes next? “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”[2]

Living the life of discipleship means losing your life, sacrificing your own personal success and achievement in sacrificial love for others. You might gain the whole world, but to what end, if you forfeit your life? If you want to save your life, you must lose it for the sake of the gospel. You must take up your own cross, take the journey that may bring you suffering because it leads through suffering to the saving grace of redemption and resurrection. The salvation of the cross happens for us, but also through and within us. Do we have to suffer all that Jesus suffered? No, but the road through life is painful at times for us all; and each of us can know that God understands what we have suffered.

The writers of the New Testament, and all the theologians since, have tried to explain what happened on the cross. Paul’s letters had already worked out saving work of the crucifixion and the Good News of Christ’s death and resurrection long before Mark wrote down this Gospel. Already the church had formed and begun to preserve and interpret the meaning of the cross. But as one recent writer explains, “Mark has put this teaching moment of Jesus with his disciples and with those who desired to become his disciples at the center of his Gospel.”[3] The first call to ministry was not to ordination, or to teach theology, or even to be apostles; it was to be disciples, to deny themselves, take up their cross and follow Jesus on the journey of faith.

To get to the meaning of our own crosses, we need to have an understanding of the cross of Christ. A Lutheran Pastor from Denver, Nadia Bolz-Weber, was interviewed for a film series called The Work of the People. In the segment entitled “The Antidote,” she explores what happened on the cross. She remarks that “I’ve always felt like the cross was about God saying, ‘I’d rather die than be in the sin-accounting business anymore.’”[4] Jesus doesn’t condemn, let alone do violence to, his own crucifiers. To have all the power of the universe, to be entirely justified in using it, and to choose not to. Incredible. How incredibly redemptive.

It is shocking, then, to me that so many ascribe to condemnation and violence as integral to the Christian faith. One form this takes is Substitutionary Atonement – the idea that sinners deserve to die and face God’s judgement because of their sin. Jesus Christ, by dying on the cross, was the substitute for sinners, paying the price of death for us. That theology is in the Bible; it’s in Mark, in chapter 10 where we read “For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”[5] And it’s in 1 Peter: “He himself bore our sins in his body on the cross.”[6] In the way it tries to explain salvation, Substitutionary Atonement says that God is not a god of peace and love but an angry and vengeful god who demands that the cost of sin be paid in death.

Imagine, God had a little boy, and loved that little boy so much. But God had to kill him because you stole a candy bar, or disobeyed to your parents, or looked at another man’s wife with lust. And now you have to be grateful for your whole life that God killed Jesus. Really? That’s messed up!

That theology is not what I believe happened on the cross. And it’s not Trinitarian. You see, that’s not God’s little boy on the cross, that’s God. Jesus is God. The Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are three Persons in one Godhead. They share the same essence or substance.[7] That’s God on the cross, taking in all of our sin, all of our brokenness, all of how messed up we are into that broken human body. God takes in all of our desire for vengeance, all of our hatred and anger and fear, all of our desire to use power against other people, and gives back only forgiveness and grace.

It is God’s nature to create and to redeem creation. God is continually trying to redeem us, all the time, even if we don’t see it. God is continually trying to heal a broken world, and our broken hearts, our broken minds and bodies. That is the nature of God, not to punish, not to harm, but to heal, and to love, and to forgive.

To take up our own crosses, then, is to take on the work of redemption, of healing and loving a broken world. As people who have received God’s mercy, God’s forgiveness, we might just get the chance to help bring that into the world. We can, in spite of our often selfish, fearful, broken nature, offer healing, peace, love, and grace as the hands of Christ in the world. In that way, by having been redeemed ourselves, it is possible for us to offer redemption to others. “Opportunities are daily before us, times when we may give our lives sacrificially to acts of love, compassion, justice, and peace, even in the face of the same imperial forces of sin and death that confronted Jesus.”[8]

Now, we’re not suddenly made perfect. We’re still broken, but we’re healing. We can’t make the bad things of the world go away, but we can be companions for others on the road to healing. If we want to be disciples of Jesus, the suffering and brokenness of the world should cause us to offer healing, forgiveness, and love. Having carried our crosses, having suffered brokenness and received healing ourselves, mercy and love that heal can pour out of us like an antidote to the sickness that infects the human condition. Let us set our minds on divine things, and go out to love and serve the world.  Amen.

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[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] Mark 8:34.

[3] Paul C. Shupe, “Pastoral Perspective on Mark 8:31-38” in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year B, Vol. 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, General Editors (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), p. 70.

[4] The Rev. Nadia Bolz-Weber, “The Antidote” featured on The Work of the People: Films for Discovery and Transformation, Copyright © 2021 The Work of the People, online at: https://www.theworkofthepeople.com/the-antidote.

[5] Mark 10:45.

[6] 1 Peter 2:24.

[7] See “Trinity, doctrine of the” in Donald K. McKim, Westminster Dictionary of Theological Terms (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 1996), p. 288.

[8] Shupe, 72.

Discipleship: The Path of Service and Self-Sacrifice

November 1, 2020

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

Matthew 23:1-12[1]

How would you define discipleship? One way is to think of it as apprenticeship, learning from someone who is a master at a trade or who has special skills and knowledge. That is how the ancient Greeks understood discipleship. A person would work closely with a master in order to acquire practical and theoretical knowledge. Some disciples were even expected to pay the master in order for the privilege of learning the trade.

Around the time of Jesus’ ministry on earth, a Jewish student of religion was expected to learn not only the Hebrew Bible Scriptures, but also the oral traditions, the traditions of the fathers. A man, and yes, back then they were all men, would attach himself to a Rabbi, who would serve as a guide for the student as they studied the Scriptures. “One dared not to interpret the Scriptures independently, and could only speak with authority after years of study under a master. Since there were several masters, there sprang up several schools of rabbinical thought, each in competition with the others.”[2]

This is part of what is going on with the scribes and the Pharisees, as well as the Sadducees. These groups were teachers of the Law of Moses, but they had some different interpretations of those laws and exactly how they should be followed. And each group had their disciples. For them, the disciple was expected to submit to one of the authorities who served as teacher, guide, and leader. The leaders jealously guarded their position of authority. This is what their conflict with Jesus was all about.

The authority of the scribes and the Pharisees gave them power over their disciples, and of the Jewish people in general. They had carefully studied the Torah and created a legal code of 365 prohibitions and 250 commandments.[3] This is what Jesus was talking about when he said, “They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on the shoulders of others.”[4] If you take the time to read through all of the Laws of Moses, and try to abide by them all, you’ll find, as some people recently have, that it is extremely difficult, if not impossible, to accomplish. The invitation from Jesus at the end of chapter 11 would have sounded like good news indeed:

Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.[5]

The scribes and the Pharisees enjoyed having disciples because they loved the admiration, the respect, and the reverence of others. In the Monty Python comedy film History of the World, Part I, Mel Brooks has a great line: “It’s good to be the king.”[6] Well, it’s good to be a Pharisee. “They love to have the place of honor at banquets and the best seats in the synagogues, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have people call them rabbi.”[7] Fame just isn’t fame without the fans, or the paparazzi.

Jesus, however, has a different definition of disciple. In Caesarea Philippi he asked, “‘Who do you say that I am?’ Simon Peter answered, ‘You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.’”[8] But just when they’re thrilled that they have figured out who he is, that they have found the Messiah, Jesus warns them that he has not come to lead a revolt. He has not come to make them into wise leaders with lots of loyal fans. He must undergo suffering, be killed, and on the third day rise. “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”[9]

OK, whoa! Back it up. You want us to what?! We thought we were going to be important people. We thought we were doing great things, and that we would get to have the best seats, and respect, and all that. And instead of all that good stuff, we have to deny ourselves? And what was that about the cross?

This was a new definition of discipleship, and it turned their expectations upside down. For starters, the students are supposed to choose the master. But Jesus chose them. He called out to the fishermen “Follow me.”[10] And he even told some who wanted to follow him that they couldn’t, like the scribe whom he told, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”[11]

The disciples expected that they would one day be great leaders. But Jesus told them that the way they must walk was the path of service and self-sacrifice. “You are not to be called rabbi”[12] or instructor, or teacher. There is only one whom you may call Teacher. This is not about titles and power. You will be important; you will be great; you may even be called a saint. But your greatness will not be measured by the number of disciples you have; it will be measured by how many people you serve. “The greatest among you will be your servant.”[13]

It doesn’t sound easy, and it’s not. It is hard work being a disciple of Jesus. But it is good work. It is the kind of work that will lift your spirits. By serving others, by helping them to bear their burdens, we find our own burdens much easier to bear. By listening to another, we might hear what God is doing in the world outside of our own heads. When we take the time to help another, when we allow our plans and routines to be interrupted by the needs of another, we just might be able to release our own anxieties and make room for God to refocus our attention on what is really important.

To take up our cross and follow Christ means that we will sometimes have to bear the burdens of others. We will have to suffer and endure one another, and not so we can fix or control the other, but so that we can allow them to be free. It is a burden, it is difficult, to allow someone else to be who they are, to not judge them, to not expect them to conform, to allow them to be strange, peculiar, broken and scarred, imperfect. When we allow the needs of another to supersede our own, we just might find our burdens easing. Who knows, we may find that the other we are serving is the one who knows us best.

In the twenty-fifth chapter of Matthew, Jesus tried to give a practical explanation of what discipleship is all about.

I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me… I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.[14]

What does discipleship mean? It means that you must humble yourself. It means to serve the world, in the name and in the manner of Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ, the Messiah, our Teacher, the one who has called out “Follow me.”  Amen.

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[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] Robert L. Deffinbaugh, Th.M., Community Bible Chapel, Richardson, Texas. “Discipleship: Its Definitions and Dangers (Matthew 23:1-12)” from the Series: Highlights in the Life and Ministry of Jesus Christ © 1998 Biblical Studies Press, L.L.C. and the authors. All rights reserved. Reprinted with permission from http://bible.org.
Source URL: http://bible.org/seriespage/discipleship-its-definitions-and-dangers-matthew-231-12.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Matthew 23:4.

[5] Matthew 11:28-30.

[6] Mel Brooks, History of the World, Part I, © 1981, 20^th Century Fox.

[7] Matthew 23:6-7.

[8] Matthew 16:15-16.

[9] Matthew 16:24.

[10] Cf. Matthew 4:19, 21.

[11] Matthew 8:20.

[12] Matthew 23:8.

[13] Matthew 23:11.

[14] Matthew 25:35-36, 40.

Down the Road

April 26, 2020

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

Luke 24:13-35

How did we get here? I have been reading a lot about what has brought us to this crisis, the breakdown of systems that has left us vulnerable to this disease. I have also been reading about the dedication and sacrifice of those who are doing their best to save lives and provide for the needs of others. I am grateful for those who are helping me understand how all that is happening connects to the larger story of who we are. And this story of an encounter on the road to Emmaus draws similar connections between the intense events of that week in Jerusalem so long ago, and the long history of God’s work of salvation.

This passage from Luke would actually fit chronologically before the story from last week. In Luke’s telling, the women who go to the tomb in the early morning see only two men in dazzling clothes; they do not encounter the risen Jesus. This journey to Emmaus reflects the ambiguous time between the empty tomb and the appearance of Jesus to the disciples and Thomas behind locked doors.

As they travel, the two disciples converse about the dramatic events of the past few days. When the stranger joins them, the recount the mission of Jesus and the events of the passion, but without fully understanding their meaning.

Luke’s Gospel sets the entire story in the context of journey, the journey from Galilee to Jerusalem, and in the following story of Acts, the journey of the early community from Jerusalem “to the ends of the earth.”[1] The early Christians were known as the people of the Way, or people of the journey. As one scholar describes it, “For Luke the journey of Jesus and of the church itself expresses the unfolding history of salvation that finds its origin In Israel and through the Spirit extends salvation to the ‘ends of the earth.’”[2]

What Jesus interpreted to them from the scriptures, from Moses and all the prophets, is the story of God’s saving work revealed through the people and history of Israel. God’s story is one of life emerging from death, of the journey of renewal, reconciliation, and transformation. As Jesus reveals the connections between the story they know and the story they have just witnessed, they begin to understand the meaning of Jesus’ death and resurrection. This is some of what they might have heard.

The story of the Exodus from Egypt is a story of bondage, liberation, a journey, and a destination. It begins with the Hebrews as slaves in Egypt. Daily life was hard labor with perhaps enough food to survive on, but not much more. By means of the plagues, God liberates the people from Pharaoh. They are led into the wilderness by Moses. There they journey for forty years toward the Promised Land.

This story suggests that the human condition is slavery or bondage. You and I are in bondage to many things, such as cultural messages about what we should be like, what it means to be successful, attractive, and to live the good life. We can also be enslaved to fears, addictions, or other kinds of oppression. We might be trapped by debt, or the fear of losing employer-supplied health insurance. The story of Moses and the people seeking freedom remains a particularly poignant one for the descendants of African slaves in America.

God’s salvation comes as the people are led from bondage to liberation, leaving Egypt and Pharaoh. It also involves a journey through the wilderness. It is in the wilderness where God is encountered and known. It can also be a place of fear and anxiety where we sometimes find ourselves longing for the security of Egypt, of the familiar things of the past. But the wilderness is also a place where we are nourished by God and where God journeys with us. The destination is life in the presence of God.

We might think our current situation is bondage, trapped in our homes by fear of the virus and the need to slow the spread so that our hospitals are not overwhelmed. But maybe we are really in the wilderness, a journey of the mind and the spirit, experiencing anxiety and a longing for what we had before. But in the wilderness, we might find ourselves sustained by the manna of God, the efforts of our family and friends to reach out over the phone and the internet to support one another. And the end of this journey may reveal a new way of living more carefully with one another, more grateful for the opportunity to gather, and more blessed by the touch of a hand or a hug.

Through the prophets we learn of the exile. The exile began in 587 BCE, when, after Jerusalem and its temple were conquered and destroyed by the Babylonians, some of the survivors were marched into exile in Babylon some 800 miles away. There they lived as refugees, far from home and oppressed. Fifty years later, the Babylonian Empire was conquered by the Persians, who allowed the Jews to return to their homeland.

We live in a time when millions of exiles and refugees know this experience firsthand. It is an experience of separation from all that is familiar. People contend with powerlessness and often oppression and victimization. There is sadness, loneliness, and grief. It is a yearning for home and a place where we belong. It can also mean the loss of meaning or a sense of purpose. These feelings may be familiar to us in this time, when familiar ways of working, learning, gathering, and traveling have changed.

God’s salvation from exile leads the people on a journey of return. The religious life is a journey to the place where God is present, a homecoming, and God assists those who undertake the journey. We may not be able to return from our exile yet. But there will be a return, a time to gather once again in familiar places with friends and family. As God spoke through the prophet Jeremiah, “I will bring you back to the place from which I sent you into exile.”[3] As the days of our quarantine stretch into weeks and months, we may ask, like the exiles, “How could we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?”[4] Perhaps in the days ahead we will sing a new song, a song of joy as we gather together again.

Another way in which we understand salvation comes from the days of the temple, the priesthood, and sacrifice. It is a story of sin, guilt, sacrifice, and forgiveness. When we people turn away from God, we are in a state of sin and brokenness. When we are lost from the ways of God we need to return to God, to repent, to be cleansed, washed, or covering over. When we have done wrong, we need forgiveness. We need to sacrifice to God to make up for what we have done wrong. Since the early Middle Ages, some Christians have understood Jesus as the dying savior whose death is a sacrifice for our sins, thereby making our forgiveness by God possible. “Jesus died for our sins.”

This image of Jesus is powerful, and can be a sign of God’s great love for us, as we know from John 3:16, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.” The message is simple, direct, and radical: we are accepted, just as we are. Our own sense of sin, impurity, and guilt need not stand between us and God. New beginnings are possible.

Each of these stories is part of the grand story of God’s work of salvation. For some of us, the need is liberation; for others, the need is homecoming; and for still others, the need is acceptance. Each of these stories helps us to understand what it means to be Christian, living life as a journey whose central quality is a deepening and transforming relationship with God.

Where do we go from here? The story doesn’t end with supper that night in Emmaus. That was a moment of revelation, a vision of the living Christ in the breaking of the bread. It was also a moment of understanding that their journey was not ended, but just beginning.

The story of Jesus is the story of discipleship. The word disciple means “a follower after somebody.” Discipleship is a following after Jesus, a journeying with Jesus. It is a journey, not alone, but in a company of fellow disciples. The Christian life is about being in relationship with God, which transforms us into more and more compassionate beings, changing into the likeness of Christ.

Our journey also continues, and though we can’t yet leave our homes, we can think about what is coming down the road. Things won’t be the “normal” we had before. The disciples didn’t just go back to fishing. We will make changes in our lives. If nothing else, we will begin to see and appreciate more of the people who make the world work, the grocery clerks, truck drivers, farmers and field hands, janitors, meat packers, mail carriers, and others who are more essential than we realized. We’ll have a greater appreciation for doctors and nurses, lab techs and EMTs.

I hope that down the road we will realize our interconnectedness in new ways, and be more grateful for all the people in our lives. I hope that when we break bread together, the living Christ will be made known to us. And I pray that we will continue on in the Way, the journey which takes us ever-closer to the One who saves us.  Amen.

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[1] Acts 1:8. 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] Donald Senior, Exegetical Perspective on Luke 24:13-35 in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year A, Vol. 2, David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, General Editors (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), p. 421.

[3] Jeremiah 29:14.

[4] Psalm 137:4.