Not Orphaned

“I will not leave you orphaned,” Jesus promises us in today’s gospel. God is not some ruthless heavenly spectator judging us as on reality television, relishing our failures, wishing to exchange us for a better or more attractive child, no curmudgeonly “Daddy Warbucks” in the sky. Rather, God comes to love us in Jesus, singularly loving and accepting, seeking our trust, promising to be ever-present with us in the Holy Spirit. This Holy Advocate moves us even when we don’t recognize its power, even when it seems “an unknown God” (Acts 17:23). Though we might battle an elemental loneliness, we have not been abandoned.

Many life experiences can leave us feeling orphaned or abandoned. Family can ease that feeling but also magnify it if our family relationships are strained or if our families live far away. [...] The Internet, webcams, Skype, [Zoom], and social networking can link people across the miles but can further aggravate loneliness and isolation when these substitute for real intimacy in our highly connected world. How do we experience this loneliness and this longing for home and belonging? How does Jesus’ promise that he will not leave us orphaned speak to these real-life concerns?

When Jesus makes this string of promises in John 14, saying that he will remain with us in the Holy Spirit as our Advocate, it’s hard to envision how this support comes to us sometimes. When we do not get to see or hear those we love, the simple gifts Jesus offers in body and blood, bread and wine shared with real warm neighbors have great power. Even when life keeps delivering bad news about how far apart we are from another, how broken our relationships are, “I will not leave you orphaned” is the godly reassurance that we are not alone.

from Sundays and Seasons

Along the Way

The underground railroad that saved the lives of countless enslaved husbands and mothers and babies tortured by America’s original sin of slavery depended upon safe refuge along the journey to freedom—a place prepared.

Through desert dangers where thieves waited and beasts preyed in the night, weary travelers along the Silk Road took restful shelter in inns along their way—a place prepared.

From the dense streets of Kolkata, India, where poverty’s scourges lie thick over crowds of people, and disease lingers in the sluggish air, humble compassion clad in white and blue saris gathers the wretched into a home for the destitute and dying—a place prepared.

Around the globe, in the midst of despair, people fleeing from war die in the sea, are lost in the desert, swarm at borders, scale walls, weep at fences, hang on trains, trudge every landscape imaginable hoping for a home at the end of a trail—a place prepared.

Jesus promised the most remarkable thing to his disciples: “I go to prepare a place for you” (John 14:2). And they asked, “Where? We don’t understand! Show us!” Jesus’ answer to his disciples does not offer a spiritualized road to heaven or a settled spot in Galilee, but it does offer all that matters: “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). Jesus is the destination and the path. There is a refuge—a place prepared—in his love. The home of peace and safety that we all long for is found in Jesus. Jesus is with us all along the roads, streets, and alleyways, in places unseen and unknown. Jesus is with us, goes before us to prepare the place, and shows us the way.

From Sundays and Seasons

I am the Gate

As he prepared to return home near the end of three years in a state prison, the man wrote to the church where, before his arrest, he had worshiped, attended Bible study, and played guitar in the music program. While an inmate, he went to chapel and showed up at Bible study on a regular basis. He was ready and hopeful to return to his faith community. Days before his release, he received a letter from the church: “We cannot allow you to fellowship with us until our mission committee meets to decide whether to admit you.”

“I am the gate,” says Jesus, the shepherd and the bringer of life. Jesus is the one who opens the way. For all who suffer rejection—barred from entrance and denied community because of who they are, how they behave, where they come from, what they’ve done, how they look, or what they believe—it is shocking to hear Jesus say, “I am the gate, and I came to bring abundant life to all my sheep.” We may think, Really? Me? Can it be so?

To the religious leaders who saw themselves as gatekeepers—the deniers and allowers, the definers and approvers, the deciders and assigners—Jesus voiced his graced rebuke: “No! I am the gate, and the gate is open. All with ears listening and hearts aching for mercy, come this way. Enough of those who kill your hope, destroy your spirit, steal your worth! Thieves and bandits they are, in righteous disguise.”

And to the church, Jesus voices this nonnegotiable word: “I am the gate. The gate is open, bringing goodness and mercy to all. There are no exceptions and no exclusions. So, my sheep, pour my wine, break my bread, splash my water, serve my meal, spend my life, be my body, welcome all as my own. The gate is open.”

The message of the Gospel for the Fourth Sunday of Easter

From Sundays and Seasons

Touching the wounds of Christ

The Gospel lesson for April 19th is the story we all think of as "Doubting Thomas".  As is true of so many stories we read from the Bible, there are several things we can focus on.  The act of doubting or the sharing of peace can be a focus of this story.  But also is the recognition that we too can touch the wounds of Christ.

We touch the wounds whenever we see the need in others.  The wounds in God's creation, both human and in the world we share with all living creatures.  During this pandemic there is even more need.  Those who were wounded before the virus are even more at risk now.  Essential workers have needs.  There is more loneliness and fear.  There is certainly doubt and anxiety.  And there is sickness. 

But touching the wounds does not mean despair.  It means that there is opportunity for healing.  We can help each other through this time.  Indeed we must.  Together our actions will "flatten the curve" and we will stop the spread.  Individually there may be opportunities to help others:  pick up groceries for someone who can't leave the house, call someone who is alone, stay in touch with family and friends, and keep all the wounded in our prayers.  Simply staying home is helping.

One interesting effect from the virus and lockdown, is that some of the wounds on our earth have been healing.  We know that human activities have wounded the land, water and air, plants and animals.  Have you seen some of the pictures showing how by us staying home, air pollution has reduced and fish are in clear waters where they haven't been seen in generations?

Easter is not about going back to what was.  Easter people go forward into the new.  We don't know what the days ahead will hold, but we do know that with God we can touch the new reality as Thomas did.  Resurrection holds our woundedness and brokenness, our hurt and failure and loss.  Thomas shows us the courage to touch the wounds, to name them and share them.  And through God, we are given new life.

We are invited to connect with Christ and challenged to have Thomas’s courage to reach out to touch our own and others’ wounds with healing and grace.

We are Easter people.

Easter is love in action

As part of her invitation to Easter worship, Pastor Tuula reminds us that physical distancing is love in action.  As is Easter.  As you hear the trumpets and bells and voices of Easter, may you also hear the love in all the story and the music and the people.  In the actions of Jesus and His Father.

And so, we are an Easter people.  We look for joy that comes from faith and grows through unselfish love for neighbour.  And to live as Easter people means working together toward a single purpose: love.

To borrow from St. Augustine who said it so well:

We are an Easter people and Alleluia is our song!