A Sermon about Unconditional Love

The Rev. Joshua Rodriguez
John 14:15-21
1 Peter 3:13-22

Jesus said to his disciples, “If you love me, you will keep my commandments.
And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever.”

Let’s just start out this morning by admitting that this was a terrible verse on which to begin our reading from John’s Gospel. Whenever someone begins a sentence with, “If you love me,” it never ends well. N e v e r. I am not always the smartest person when it comes to relationships, but even I know better than that. And to hear something so conditional from the lips of Jesus, something that makes it sound like the gift of the Holy Spirit is really a loan, because it’s contingent on my good behavior, well, hearing something like that could send any of us into a crisis of faith. One of those deep childhood fears that many of us still carry with us is that we will somehow do something that will make us unlovable.

This is a manufactured crises, though, because our reading this morning picks up in the middle of a very long conversation that Jesus has with his disciples after the Last Supper. Jesus isn’t dumb enough to start the conversation with “If you love me.” This week, pick up your Bible and begin with John 13 before you read John 14. It makes everything make much more sense. It makes everything sound much less panic attack inducing to me. In context, Jesus’ conversation with the disciples reduces the number of commandments from 612—the number of commandments in the Law of Moses—to one: “Love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” That sounds a lot more manageable, doesn’t it? Jesus isn’t telling us that we have to be perfect to love him. He’s telling us that we can’t claim to love him if we don’t love our neighbors.

Now, I’m not sure if that makes things better for me. I am going to do much better with one commandment than I am with 612, but it’s still a really hard commandment. It’s one that I struggle to keep. However, what the compilers of our lectionary got right was pairing our reading from John’s Gospel with our reading from 1 Peter. 1 Peter points us back to baptism, where our attempts at following at following Jesus began. At baptism, we either made a lot of promises to God, or we had them made on our behalf and affirmed them when we were confirmed. They’re big promises. We promised to continue in the apostle’s teaching and fellowship. We promised to persevere in resisting evil. We promised to proclaim the Gospel by our word and example. We promised to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourself. We promised to strive for peace and justice among all people. But if you think back to the last baptism you attended, we don’t just say “I will” to these promises. We say, “I will, with God’s help.” We can’t keep the promises we make at our baptisms. Not by ourselves anyway. God knows this. God knows that this whole Christian life thing stretches us, that so often the thing that we know we’re supposed to do is just beyond our grasp. God knows this, and God accepts us anyway.

We don’t just do this at baptisms, for the record. We do it at ordinations, too. When Arianne and I were ordained priests, we made vows before God and the Church. We made really big commitments that we will never be able to keep perfectly on our own. That’s why, during our ordinations, the bishops who ordained us prayed that God would give us the grace we needed to keep our vows. We do this at weddings, too. After the couple has exchanged their vows, the congregation prays that God give everyone in the room the grace we need to keep the vows that each of us has made in our lives.

At each of these sacramental moments in our lives, we believe that God gives us grace. That’s what a sacrament is: an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace. God’s grace isn’t confined to the sacraments. It pervades every corner of our lives. The sacraments are moments when we are assured of grace, but there are other moments of grace in our lives. That grace in which we live and move and have our being is how we love Jesus. That’s how I manage to love my neighbor as myself in spite of myself. That grace is what assures us, as St. Paul says, that neither height nor depth nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Jesus Christ. That grace is the Holy Spirit, our Advocate, moving in our lives. That grace is the assurance that Jesus will not leave us as orphans.

In his novel, Les Miserables, Victor Hugo wrote, “To love another person is to see the face of God.” That’s why the new commandment Jesus gives us is to love one another. That’s why we will never be left orphaned, because we see God in the faces of those we love. At our baptisms, a priest dipped his or her finger into a vial of blessed oil and made the sign of the cross on our forehead. That priest spoke words of grace and promise, calling us by name and telling us that we were sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as God’s own forever. Forever. At its heart, the Gospel is a story that tells us that God’s love for us is unconditional. That love, freely given, calls us to freely love. And, in doing so, we see God. Amen.

We are getting ready!


I am ready, oh my children. When Jesus walks through that door. I’ll be there, come morning. Don’t weep for me I’ll be with my Lord. Amen.

Are we ready? Are we preparing for Jesus? Can I get an AMEN! Now I’ll go back to being an Episcopalian....

Our gospel this morning is a flashback. It’s Maundy Thursday – the night Jesus sits with the disciples, institutes the Lord’s Supper – and makes everyone uncomfortable (then and always) by washing feet.

Why do we hear a Holy Week gospel in the Great 50 Days of Easter Resurrection?

This passage is heard often at funerals. It’s at the top of my list for suggestions when people ask my opinion. The image of God’s house – which at that service we hear as heaven – with many dwelling places lends itself to the spiritual diversity you often have in the pews at a funeral. And the comforting words of Jesus – do not be troubled – remind us that God is here with us now, and holds in love the person around whom we gather to say goodbye.

But at that service the excerpt is half as long and ends on verse 6 with – No one comes to the Father except through me. And I, like many other priests, most often opt to cut that out. Ending instead with Jesus’ reminder that he is the way, the truth and the life.

If you think about it a moment, I bet you can guess why it is so often removed. That verse has been used many times to exclude people. It’s a verse used by some to say – see, it says it right here in the bible – you can’t get to God unless you go through Jesus. If you don’t go through Jesus you can’t be saved. And frankly, at a funeral, I’m not excluding anyone from the love of God.

Richard Rohr the priest and author who is very inclusive in his understanding of our relationship with the Divine and the validity of many paths– has had this verse hurled at him more than once. And his consistent reply is “When Jesus said, I am the way and the truth and the life, it means that you are not.”

That is certainly a helpful reminder that we don’t need to be the arbiters of who gets to God. And something else to pay attention to is the very specific identifier Jesus uses. He doesn’t say – no one comes to God or no one gets to heaven – he says no one comes to the Father. God as Father is unique to Jesus’ teachings. So really all Jesus is reminding his followers – who are now called Christian – that if Christians want to get to God – they are to follow the way of Jesus. Because if they want to know truth – if they want to know life – walking in the footsteps of Christ is how they will be led there.

Maybe we hear a Holy Week story in Easter because Holy Week is about walking with Jesus to the cross. And even with the blessed assurance that Christ is risen, Christ is risen indeed – we are still always walking in Holy Week. We always are walking in a world that is filled with suffering – our own, personal struggles – and the suffering that surrounds us even when it is far away. We are a resurrected people – but that doesn’t mean our hearts are not troubled. There is a lot in this world to be troubled about.

What troubles us, troubled Jesus. When Jesus sees Martha weeping over the death of her brother Lazarus – it says Jesus’s spirit was greatly disturbed and he was deeply moved (11:33). When Jesus is praying in the garden of Gethsemane he tells the same disciples – that at this hour his soul is troubled – but what is he to do? Ask the Father to save him from what lies ahead? (12:26). And just moments before this exchange we read - Jesus, troubled in spirit declared, very truly I tell you one of you will betray me. (13:21) Death, anxiety, fear and sadness. Jesus knows the trouble we’ve seen.

But in each of these instances – Jesus’ troubled heart and spirit don’t keep him from walking. Believe in God, believe also in me – he says to those disciples. When we are troubled – keep believing there is life ahead. That’s faith, right? The real and incredible trust on our part to keep on walking towards God in the midst of fear and doubt.

Thomas and Philip need a more immediate and concrete response. Give me the GPS coordinates – Thomas says. Tell me exactly where it is I will be when this troubling time is over. And Philip says – show me God, then we’ll be satisfied. They, like us, want the destination, the goal, the answer. It’s a lot like when Jesus stands before Pilate and Pilate asks him, “What is truth?” There’s nothing for Jesus to say, because Pilate is staring truth in the face.

With his followers though he tries to give more of an explanation – it isn’t about the destination, the goal, the answer. It is about Jesus – which means – it is about walking the way. That’s what got Stephen brutally killed – in our reading from Acts. He stood before a council who accused him of wanting to do away with all of their religious traditions – and he said – this has always been the problem. And starting back with Abraham he goes through the narrative of God’s people describing – those who welcome new ways of finding God. Those who step out in faith like Sarah, believing into God when they have no idea if they are right. Those who trust the words inscribed on their hearts like Moses, even when they stand alone.

Stephen was part of a new way that sought out the poor and the marginalized – to be with them – not just help them – but be with them – and that was not what religious folk were supposed to do. But it was what Jesus did. And Stephen followed that way. And when they stoned him to death for it – he continued to follow in the way – uttering words of forgiveness in the face of hatred. And who stood on the sidelines looking on in approval? The man whose letters we read almost every Sunday around the world to tell us that nothing separates us from the love of God (Rom 8). St. Paul – persecutor of those who followed the Way. What does teach us about how God ability to turn hearts?

All of which to say, everything we do as a body of Christ is about walking the way. When we listen to the reports of our leaders – when we read about the ministries of this past year – there are accomplishments to celebrate, indeed. We need wins – we all need wins. But are the accomplishments what matter most in the life of a church? Will there ever be a time when we don’t need to build a house for Habitat, or cook a casserole for our Daily Bread, or fill out a pledge card – no. No matter how many houses or casseroles or balanced budgets we achieve – we are walking a way that doesn’t end. We don’t believe in endings, we believe in new beginnings. We are always getting ready!

So as a people who walk in the way of Jesus – what are we asking for in his name? If in my name you ask me for anything – I will do it – he says. And when we hear that we should hear – If in my name, y’all ask me for anything, I will do it. It’s plural – he is speaking to the small band of followers, the living stones that over two thousand years have been built into a spiritual house of God. Could that be the house Jesus is preparing? How are we preparing? What are we asking for in Christ’s name?

When I look at what we do, I see that we ask that people be fed and clothed – Habitat, Neighbor-to-Neighbor, Paul’s Place and our Daily Bread. We ask that people be nourished – spiritual enrichment – worship and fellowship – Sunday School and J2A. We ask that our house is a home. We have tasted here that the Lord is good. We ask that more people walk in this way with us.

I would ask you today – as you listen to the good news of God, as you listen to your sisters and brothers share the good news of this place – ask yourself – am I walking in the way with this body of Christ? Am I walking with those I worship with through participating in these ministries? Am I walking with those I worship with to invite people to this place? Am I walking with those I worship with to seek new ways we can grow in relationship with each other and with our community? Am taking part in getting ready?

In this house there are indeed so many wonderful and incredible ways to abide with God. That’s the dwelling place. God in us. We are God’s people. We are God’s own people called out of darkness and into light. And there is so much light and goodness that surrounds the Church of the Good Shepherd – this is a blessed community.

Let us pray – Almighty God, to know you is to know everlasting life here and now. Help us to know your Son Jesus Christ to be the way, the truth and the life – so that we may continue to be generous and courageous in how we share that good news in our world. Amen. - The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks

The 5th Sunday of Easter, The Church of the Good Shepherd
John 14:1-11; Sermon at Annual Meeting

“What’s Doubt Got to Do with It?”

2 Easter, Year A

John 20:19-31

The Rev. Joshua Rodriguez

“Doubting” Thomas gets a bad rap. It’s true. Throughout John’s Gospel, he's one of the most committed of the disciples. When the Jewish authorities are seeking to kill Jesus, before Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead, Thomas silences all of the other disciples’ objections and says: “Let’s go back to Judea and die with him.” And in the Gospel reading we heard this morning, Thomas gives us the most complete confession of Jesus’ identity we find in the Fourth Gospel: “My Lord and my God.”

Did you remember these things about Thomas? Be honest. Most of us don’t. Most of us, myself included, immediately identify Thomas as “Doubting.” He is, in our minds, the only disciple who didn’t believe in the resurrection. But that’s not true.

Our Gospel opens with the statement: When it was evening on the day of Resurrection, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews. . . That’s hardly the confidence we associate with the disciples after the resurrection. It sounds a lot like doubt. The disciples have heard the news of the resurrection by this point. Mary Magdalene has come and told them that she saw Jesus in the Garden. Peter and John have run to the tomb and found it empty. But they are huddled inside a locked house, afraid.

They have good reason to be afraid. Their Lord and Master, Jesus, was just betrayed and handed over to the Romans, who executed him as an insurrectionist. And they had hoped that he might be the one to redeem Israel. They’re afraid that they might also be arrested, beaten, and crucified as coconspirators. They’re afraid that the Jewish high priests, whose authority came from Rome, might see them as a threat to that authority, just like they saw Jesus as a threat. They have heard the good news of the resurrection, they have seen the empty tomb, but they are still afraid. Maybe, what they’re most afraid of is that the resurrection actually happened. Because that would change everything.

But Thomas wasn’t with the other disciples. On the evening of the resurrection, he is the only disciple who is not cowering behind a locked door. And so he misses out on the revelation that the other disciples have of Jesus. Only after Jesus appears to them, only after Jesus shows them the holes in his hands and in his side, only after these things do the other disciples really believe that he is risen. And Thomas misses that. We talk about Thomas’ doubt like it’s a bad thing, we act like it’s unreasonable for him to demand proof of the resurrection, but all he is asking for is the same sign that the other disciples received.

We have this tendency to see doubt as the opposite of faith, as if people of faith, “Good Christians,” never doubt. Let me tell you, that's a lie. I have doubts. I go through those periods when my spiritual life seems so dry, so arid, that it seems as if God has abandoned me. Have you experienced that? Has there been a time in your life when it seemed like your doubts outnumbered your faith?

C. S. Lewis wrote a little book called The Screwtape Letters, which is the imagined correspondence between two demons who are trying to damn a man’s soul to hell. The elder demon, Screwtape, writing to his nephew, passes on the following advice: “The dryness and dullness through which your patient is now going are not, as you fondly suppose, your workmanship; they are merely a natural phenomenon which will do us no good unless you make a good use of it. [. . .] It may surprise you to learn that in [God’s] efforts to get permanent possession of a soul, He relies on the troughs even more often than the peaks; some of his special favorites have gone through longer and deeper troughs than anyone else.”[1]

Screwtape is right, when you sit down and read the lives of the saints, you find out that Augustine, Julian of Norwich, Thomas a Kempis, Teresa of Avila, John of the Cross, Mother Teresa, and so many others, went through what John of the Cross called “the dark night of the soul,” the time when God seemed to disappear and when doubts increased. What the saints invariably said, when they went through these times of doubt, was that doubt became the seed of faith.

That’s the case with Thomas, isn’t it? That doubt, that desire for confirmation, leads to his great confession of Jesus: “My Lord and my God!” Doubt blossoms into faith. Doubt deepens our faith; it does not destroy it. Apathy destroys faith. A smug confidence that we have figured out the mysteries of the spiritual life destroys faith. But doubt, good, clean, honest doubt, doubt can deepen our faith. Doubt can bring us from despair to hope, with Jesus’ help.

Before Jesus appeared to Thomas after the resurrection, Mark tells us that he encountered a man whose son was ill. This father asked Jesus to heal his son, if he was able. Jesus replies, “All things are able for one who believes.” The father then cries out, “I believe! Help my unbelief!”

This is the truth that Thomas also reminds us of. Faith and doubt are always mingled in us. C.S. Lewis’ demon, Wormwood, warns his nephew: “It is during such trough periods, much more than during the peak periods, that [the human soul] is growing into the sort of creature [God] wants it to be. Hence the prayers offered in the state of dryness are those which please him best.”[2]

In the midst of our doubts, may we always pray: “I believe! Help my unbelief!” And may Jesus come to us in the mystery of bread and wine and coach us to say: “My Lord and my God.” Amen.

---

[1] C. S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters (New York: Macmillan, 1950), 45.

[2] ibid., 47.

Practice Resurrection!

Easter Sunday
4/20/14
Matt 28:1-10

In the Name of the one who lived, died and rose again so that we might know forgiveness and everlasting life, our Savior, Jesus Christ.  Amen.

Welcome and Happy Easter!  Such a beautiful church and a beautiful day.  It’s quite a gift when creation reflects the glory of the resurrection we celebrate on Easter Sunday.

In Matthew’s gospel all of creation reflects the divine events taking place over these three days.  They are just too big – too important – to not send aftershocks into the earth itself.

When Jesus is dying on the cross – darkness overshadows the whole land.  When Jesus cries out and breathes his last – the curtain of the temple, the very fabric of reality, is torn in two; the earth trembles and rocks shatter.

And three days later, when the women (and just the women) courageously make their way to Christ’s tomb in the eerie first light of dawn – an earthquake rumbles the ground under their feet as lightning strikes amidst an angel’s descent.

For just as the heavens and earth were filled with the glory of God when Christ broke into the world – the heavens and earth resound with the glory of God when Christ breaks free from the bonds of death!

Earlier this week I was talking to someone at a dinner party.  She was telling me about attending an Easter service at St. Thomas’ on 5^th Avenue in New York City.  Amazing architecture – it’s enormous – world-famous boys choir.  If you like church buildings – it’s a must see.

Anyway she is there amidst the throngs, standing in her pew as this gospel is proclaimed.  And when the words – And suddenly there was a great earthquake – aloud – her heartbeat quickens as she literally feels the floor start to shake and tremble underneath her feet and she is like – What…is….happening?  And for the rest of the service she is wide-eyed with that feeling of – holy….moley – wondering – what is God trying to tell me!

Later that day while sharing this life-changing moment with someone – they casually inform her – well, I don’t think that was God exactly, because you know  – the 4, 5, and 6 subway runs directly underneath St. Thomas’ so what you thought was divine intervention was probably just the express train!

Was that a let down for her?  No.  Because, as she and I agreed - if I’m listening to holy scripture about an earthquake – and at that exact moment the earth under my feet starts shaking – I don’t care what the reason – you better believe I’m going to assign some significance to that occurrence and consider it more than just a coincidence.  That would get my attention.  The simultaneous reaction of creation is intended to do exactly that - get our attention.  

Because resurrection: the act of life conquering death; of light overcoming darkness; of love defeating hate; resurrection is the most important event of the Christian life!  The redemptive and restorative act of God which forever and eternally changed our relationship with God – and upon which our faith is built. 

Which is why it is also – the hardest act for so many to believe.  I would imagine loads of people – religious or not – would find at least some synchronicity in my friend who felt the ground shake when hearing a story about the same thing.  But ask people if they believe that Jesus Christ was raised from the dead – and many more people – Christians included – struggle to explain how we believe in something so unverifiable.  It’s beyond belief.

Why is that?  Well – I think we believe it more than we know.

Let’s change gears.  If I sing these three words – Let it go – what movie am I referring to?  Yes – “Frozen” – show of hands – who has seen it – ok if you’re worried about spoilers, they’re coming, so start tuning out - if you haven’t already.

I don’t know about you – but I loved that movie – couldn’t stop singing after I left – despite the pleas from my daughter to stop embarrassing her in the Hunt Valley parking lot.  Thanks to people like me and you – and millions more – this is the highest grossing animated movie of all time.  And like all of those types of movies there are princesses and princes – who we expect to save the day, and the girl, as they always do – with a kiss – prince to princess - of the romantic variety.

I’m not going through the whole thing – but in the end – in the climatic, culminating event when all of creation reflects the sturm und drang of the story – what happens?  As the heroine, Princess Anna struggles to stay alive, her heart literally freezing to death, she fights to make her way through the raging storm.  Trying to get to her ‘prince’ Kristoff for that kiss, that true love kiss which is supposed to save her from death.

But then she sees her sister, Elsa about to be killed by the evil villain. So what does she do? She changes course and instead of saving herself she sacrifices herself and throws herself in front of the fatal blow.  Her heart stops - it freezes.  She dies – it’s the end.

“No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” (Jn 15:13)

No matter the story, the death part – the letting go part – saying goodbye – it always has to happen first.

And then we learn what “true love” really is.  It’s not the romantic kind.  True love – is sacrificial love.   Acting on behalf of another, giving of self on behalf of another – that is true love – and what does it lead to?  For Princess Anna?  Her sister?  The whole community? 

Resurrection.

The world doesn’t disbelieve resurrection.  Quite the opposite.  We are a people desperately yearning to experience resurrection – so much so – that we have cooperatively spent $1.11 billion (and counting) to watch an animated version of it – and it’s certainly not the only one.  Turn on the TV – and watch a show with Resurrection for a title!  

And yes, it is hard to believe that Jesus Christ was raised from the dead – because you’re right – there will never be a definitive “C.S.I. Jerusalem” that’s going to be able to prove it beyond a shadow of doubt – so ask yourself this – why for over 2,000 years do we keep telling – and listening to the story? 

Or better yet, ask yourself this, when has someone sacrificed for me - bringing light to my darkness – when has someone brought new life into mine?

Ask yourself, when has the ground underneath my feet given way because unexpected news changed everything – but here I am – I made it through.

When have we seen the devastation – of an earthquake, a tornado, a hurricane – and then seen the hands and feet of those who sacrifice their money and energy to get to work rebuilding?

When did I see – the towers my parents worked in crash to the ground – and then in the weeks and months that followed watched throngs of people enter the city to feed and comfort and work alongside people – just like you and me – to do what – to bring new life.

In all those situations – yours, mine, ours – Jesus was right there when the earth and hearts were torn in two.  And then just like at the empty tomb – Jesus is out there, in front – calling us to get up – go! Join with God to show that out of death comes life.

Resurrection isn’t something we believe in or not.  Resurrection is something we practice, or not.  We read the gospel, and tell lots of other stories – animated and otherwise – to remind ourselves that resurrection is real.  It’s like faith – how can you explain it? We don’t need to explain it – we need to point to it.  To see it and participate in it and tell about it.  We need to practice resurrection – that is what fully connects us with meaningful living – here and now.

You have been raised with Christ – Alleluia!  That’s what we give thanks for today. So set your minds on things from above and use your hands and your heart – to be and bring “Alleluia” into those places that need resurrection!  Jesus is out there ahead of you – don’t be afraid – practice, practice, practice – not because we’ll ever be perfect – but because it will reveal to you everything that matters – the the alpha and omega – the beginning and the end of love and joy known fully through life in God through Jesus Christ.  Amen.

- The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks

Will the real blind person please stand up?

Lent 4, Year A; John 9:1-41

The Rev. Joshua Rodriguez

Jesus said, “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.”

Is it just me, or does that saying of Jesus make you a little uneasy, too? All of our readings this morning are about light and darkness, about seeing and being blind. And they’ve been paired in the lectionary to lead us to ask ourselves a question this morning: Can I see? Well, can you? Now, maybe you don’t want to answer this question too soon, maybe you should take some time to really think about it, because, as Jesus tells us at the end of our Gospel reading, “I came… so that… who do see may become blind.” That makes me hesitate to answer that question: Can I see?

I know that not everyone is a baseball fan, but tomorrow is Major League Baseball’s opening day, so there was no way that baseball wasn’t going to make it into this sermon. So, if you’re not a baseball fan, please bear with me. The fact is, if the Gospels were about baseball, they wouldn’t be written from the perspective of the New York Yankees. No offense to those of you who are Yankees fans, but most fans of other teams love to hate the Yankees. The Yankees are the top dogs, the big, rich, powerful team, and the Gospel is the story about how God came and lived as a human being so that the last could be first and the first could be last. Still, the Gospel wouldn’t be written from the Orioles’ perspective either. I know that the O’s are beloved in Baltimore, and as a Rangers fan, I can certainly sympathize with loyal O’s fan, who have supported a team that had fourteen straight losing seaons. But the O’s aren’t at the bottom; they’re solidly in the middle of the pack. No, if the Gospel were about baseball, it would be written from the perspective of the Chicago Cubs, who haven’t won a World Series since 1908, whose fans are the most long-suffering of them all. The Cubs are a team who know what it is to be on the bottom, and the Gospel is the story of how God sided with the people on the bottom.

But the reason why Jesus makes me nervous in this Gospel story is that you and I aren’t Cubs fans. If we keep extending our baseball metaphor, we citizens of the most powerful nation on earth, we nice, respectable Episcopalians, we’re the Yankees. There’s a prayer practice that I love called Ignatian meditation, where you imagine yourself as part of a Bible story. And generally, I find myself picking a “good” part: one of the disciples, or someone who gets healed by Jesus. I never pick a Pharisee. But the fact is, if I’m looking for myself in this story from John’s Gospel, I’m most like the Pharisees. I’m one of the religious insiders, and I’ve got the collar around my neck to prove it. All of us gathered here this morning probably have more in common with the Pharisees than the blind man, and this story doesn’t end all that well for the Pharisees, does it? Jesus said to them, “If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains.”

This Gospel story doesn’t sound like good news for us Pharisees at first, but it really is, I promise you. We just have to admit that we’re blind. And, luckily, our readings this morning remind us that we are. We don’t see as God sees. Jesus isn’t the king who we’d have picked out for ourselves. We’d have picked Eliab, like Samuel did. Once we get to the point of admitting that we’re blind, of admitting that we are powerless to save ourselves, the Gospel can become good news for us Pharisees, for us Yankees. Jesus can take us back to the beginning and teach us how to be Cubs fans.

There’s freedom in admitting our blindness. Lutheran pastor Nadia Bolz-Weber says: “Every time we draw a line between us and others, Jesus is always on the other side of it.” Drawing lines is what Pharisees do. It’s what I do. But when I admit that I am blind, that I am incapable of drawing the lines that signify who God loves correctly, Jesus can heal my blindness by helping me draw a line that excludes no one, because no one is on the other side of God’s love: not even me.

The good news of this Gospel story is that it leads us to ask: Who is the real blind person in this story? Jesus gives each of us the answer: Me. And then he opens my eyes.

Amen.

Immediate Cravings and Eternal Desires

Lent 3, Year A

Exodus: 17:1-7; John 4

The people quarreled with Moses, and said, "Give us water to drink."  The Lord said to Moses, "Strike the rock, and water will come out of it, so that the people may drink."

Jesus said, "Those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life."

What is the difference between craving and desire?  That is a question I hear bouncing between our excerpts from Exodus and John’s gospel. To my mind, cravings are about feeding an immediate hunger.  Literally – as in wanting a burger from Five Guys when I’m famished – and metaphorically – as in I want what I want – in my life, my job, my relationships, my prayers – when I want it which is pretty much right now.

Desire, on the other hand, is a deeper longing.  We desire meaning – peace –reconciliation.  We desire love.  Desire connects us with things eternal. 

There is water we crave when we’re thirsty.  There is living water to quench our desire for God.

As I’m sure you know, two pretty big events are chronicled in the two chapters previous to what we hear from Exodus this morning.  In chapter 14 – the people are racing for their lives in the desert, with the Pharaoh and his army in hot pursuit.  And the escaped Israelites hurl their fear at Moses - "Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness? What have you done to us, bringing us out of Egypt?”(Exodus 14:11).  To which Moses replies – do not be afraid.  Stand firm in the Lord. (14:13). 

And you know what happens – the parting of the Red Sea – walls of water on either side – and the Israelites cross on dry ground.  And when the Egyptians continue their pursuit the waves come crashing down and it says the entire army was destroyed.  See Cecil B. DeMille’s epic film, The Ten Commandments, for the classic movie version.

And then, the next big event two chapters and about two weeks later – the freed and wandering people of God are famished and again, they hurl their complaints at Moses - "If only we had died by the hand of the LORD in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread; for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger."  (Exodus 16:3).  To which the Lord tells Moses – tell the people I have heard their complaining and I will rain down bread from heaven (16:4ff).  Which happens and the people who gather up the manna are filled.

I remind us of this because it is on the heel of these events – instances when immediate needs were literally addressed by God – that we hear this morning, the people yet again hurl fear and complaints at their leader, “Why did you bring us out of Egypt, to kill us and our children and livestock with thirst?” 

Did they forget what God had done? (Just like we do?) Why do they continue to accuse Moses – and God – of trying to kill them with suffering when God has consistently responded to their cries?

Because, as I think we all know, desire is forgettable in the face of immediate cravings.  The people had been enslaved and oppressed.  They truly desired freedom and liberation.  But getting there is hard.  That scripture of Paul from Romans reads really well in advance of the journey – we know that suffering produces endurance and endurance produces character and character produces hope – and hope does not disappoint (Rom 5:3-5a)  But when we are in the midst of the wilderness of not having answers, or life-threatening circumstance, or identity changing choices – words don’t often satisfy our cravings.  We want fixes and solutions.  We want to just get to the other side of “it” already.

We want a tangible answer in the affirmative to the ultimate question of faith – Is God with us, is God with me, or not?

Unlike the people in Exodus – the woman at the well seems to be having a pretty ordinary day – going about her chores getting some water.  (I always think of this passage when doing chores,  picturing Jesus just sitting there and waiting for me to strike up a conversation!)  It’s a long scripture passage – edited here – so read and reread it.  A lot of inferences and assumption have been made about this woman, who she is and what her problems are.  But it’s a simple story of Jesus meeting someone where they are and tapping right into their desire for God, for a connection to the eternal, for a trust in belief.

Like most of us, the woman wants literal answers to her question.  Jesus directs her attention to something more.  It’s not literal water that Jesus brings, it’s the waters of life.  It’s not about which mountain or city you worship in, it’s about a desire for God in Spirit and truth.  And through taking the time to talk with God the woman’s true desires are met and she goes and shares the good news of that conversation with the people she meets.  She pours out what she has been given to help others who struggle with that question – is God with me or not?

God knows, when we are in the midst of the more challenging circumstances – we are going to call on God just like those Israelites – but it will be about the immediate need.  And our prayers are not always answered immediately. 

God is always with us – but it does not always feel that way.  If at present, you are at a crossroads in your journey – if you are in the midst of challenging circumstances – cry out to God, hurl your fears and prayers at the Almighty.  Our faith is built on people over the ages who did likewise; who were reminded instantly or inevitably that God responds.  The Lord is full of compassion and mercy, slow to anger and of great kindness (Ps 103).

If, on the other hand, at present in your journey things are going ok, pretty well even, why not strike up more conversations with God in the midst of your ordinary chores?  Perhaps in doing so you will follow in the footsteps of people over the ages who came away from that time with God renewed.  And in turn go and share words of experience, strength, faith and hope – with other children of God longing to connect with things eternal.  And through you the question is answered in the affirmative – yes, God is with me.

We walk by faith – not by sight (2 Cor 5:7).  It is a path, a journey, a climb up the mountain and then back down, of getting from one side of the desert to the next again and again.  There is eternal life to be found in walking that road paying attention to our desires for meaning – for peace – for reconciliation – for love. And just like the people the woman shares her story with, we have to come to know and hear and see it for ourselves.  For out of love God has poured that desire into our hearts.  Amen.

The Rev. Arianne R. Weeks