More Than Memories

John 14: 15-21

[Jesus said] “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.  This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you. “I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you.  In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live. 

On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you.  They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me; and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.”

Memorial Day was originally called Decoration Day, and it began after the Civil War to remember and honor all the soldiers, both Union and Confederate, who had fought and died in that war. Then as now, volunteers would place US flags at the gravesites of soldiers. Later, parades began to be held. Nowadays, it sometimes seems, this national holiday is mostly marked by barbecues and appliance sales as a way to spend the extra day off from school and work. But in the midst of all that, we do still remember and honor those who gave their lives to protect our freedom.

Every Memorial Day weekend when I was growing up, after church on Sunday, my mom and dad would get my grandma and we would have lunch, then head over to White Chapel cemetery, where we would drive somewhere into the center, near a large sculpture I can still see in my mind’s eye, and stop the car, and count our way down the rows and then down the grave sites, until we found the grave site of my Uncle Kenny, who I never met; my dad’s older brother, who was killed in France in 1944 during World War II.

Dad would carefully trim away any grass that was growing long around the edges of the gravestone, while Mom and I took the upside down vase out of the ground, turned it right side up, went to a nearby pump and filled a container we had brought with water. We’d transfer the water into the vase, and then carefully arrange half the flowers we had brought from our garden in the vase, saving the other half for my grandpa’s gravesite nearby. A bit of the water would be poured carefully onto the gravestone so we could rub it clean. I can still remember the feeling of my fingers outlining the name and the cross etched into it, or the water and the cool stone, or the times it had been warmed by the sun.

I remember how strange it seemed to go to my grandpa’s gravesite next, and see my grandma’s name already etched into it, her birth year there too, with a dash next to it, waiting for the unknown future year of her death to be added later, even as she was standing there with me.

I haven’t been back there since Grandma died while I was in high school. I stopped going when I went away to college, and I don’t think I’ve been there since. But I’m going to go there this afternoon, to search for their graves, and to remember them in that strange, tangible way that cemeteries seem to offer us. It seems like a cemetery is one of those places where you feel like you are in that thin space between heaven and earth, where you can sense them both.

And in that time of standing still, of kneeling down to lovingly clean up the gravestone, of placing flowers, and during the drive there and back in the car, the memories do come back to you. You remember the times you spent with the person, and you think of the stories you have been told, even if you never met them. It is all a part of you, and through these memories they abide with you, they remain a part of you.

When Jesus speaks the words of our scripture text this morning to the disciples, they still do not understand what is coming; that this young man, this teacher they follow, will die a violent death in just a few days.

He is trying to prepare them for what is to come.

He knows that they will feel like they have been orphaned, these disciples who have left their work, their homes, their families to follow him. And he knows they will think that all they have left are the memories of the brief time they had with him. And so he tells them, I will not leave you orphaned.

         You will see me, even though the world cannot.

         You will live because I live.

         You will be in me, and I will be in you.

It sounds a bit like memories, doesn’t it? The way those we love seem to live on inside of us, in our memories.

But Jesus is speaking of more than memories. He tells them that God will give them another Advocate, the Spirit of truth. He tells them that this Spirit already abides with them and will be in them.

He knows that memories will not be enough to sustain them for the kingdom work that lies ahead for them all, for us all.  And as time goes on, and all of us who are followers of Christ look back over the past 2000 years, and we try to understand the meaning of Christ’s life and death and resurrection, and to explain to others the hope and promise that has been given to us, we need more than memories, too.

The Bible, on its own, is a type of memory book, a scrapbook, a recording of the ways that God has worked in the world, how God has taken the brokenness of humanity, over and over again, and redeemed it, redeemed us.

But the Bible is more than memories, because it comes alive through the Holy Spirit. It is because the Spirit abides in us that we keep Christ’s commandments, to love God and love one another. Our memories are transformed by the power of the Holy Spirit into the ways God calls us to action.

Christ says, if you love me, you will keep my commandments. If you love me, you will live a life of obedience to my commandments. And what are those commandments? To love God with our whole heart, mind, strength, and to love our neighbors the same way we love ourselves. Our memories – both our personal experiences and the stories we hear that remain with us, including the Bible stories –

our memories go beyond just making us feel good, when we let the Holy Spirit work on us to show us what to learn, how to live, how to love. How to love God, and how to love one another. 

Sometimes the Holy Spirit is helping us see through our experiences and our memories how not to love God, and how not to love one another.

Always, the Holy Spirit is there as our Advocate, our Counselor, our Trusted Advisor and our Friend.

This is God abiding in us, helping us to know what to do, helping us to translate and interpret our memories and the stories of life all around us into new direction, new hope, new ways to work together – if we will open ourselves to hear. Joan Chittister wrote, “God is calling lovingly to us always, if we will only stop the noise within us long enough to hear.”

It is by the power of the Holy Spirit that God calls to us, that Christ comes to us. We are not alone, in any of our joys or our sorrows, because God has given us the Holy Spirit, to be with us, to abide with us forever. Christ is revealed to us in our everyday lives, in the Holy Spirit who urges us toward love, who urges us toward keeping Christ’s commandments. This participation of the Holy Spirit in our understanding and our actions, is about so much more than memory; it is what forms the ongoing life of discipleship; it is what shows us how to live our lives in new ways, as Easter people; it is what Jesus told his disciples they (and we) would have to provide help along the way; it is the Spirit of the life that has conquered death, the life that truly is life.

And so our lives as disciples are not just based upon memories, even as we continue through our lives to hear and to ponder and to tell others the stories, as the words of a hymn put it, “to tell the old, old stories, of Jesus and his love.” We continue to take these old, old stories and interpret them in the new contexts of today’s world, in communion with the Holy Spirit, in order to use these stories full of memory and of future hope, to dedicate our lives to loving God and loving one another, and in that way reflecting our love of Christ to the world, recognizing with grateful hearts that God has given us so much more than memory in order to guide us in lives of obedience to Christ’s commandments.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Abundant Life Together

Psalm 23; Acts 2: 42-47; John 10: 1-10  (Easter 5A)

The use of sheep and shepherd as a description of us, and of Christ, can be found throughout the New Testament. And, of course, the 23^rd Psalm (which the choir sang so beautifully today, and) which reminds us of all the ways that the Lord is our shepherd, is just one of many places in the Old Testament where the people of God are compared to sheep, and the Lord is the shepherd.

There are way more intelligent animals to which we could be compared. In fact, relatively speaking, sheep are really quite stupid. They are utterly dependent on the shepherd for their survival. They are easy prey for wolves. There are stories of sheep standing around, watching, while a wolf eats a lamb right in the midst of them. They don’t know enough to run away from danger. They do fare better when they are together rather than separate,   but that’s only because there is typically a shepherd there to protect the whole lot of them. They want to go out on their own just as much as the shepherd wants to keep them safe in the flock.

And when they do get out, they will run off and often get stuck in a crevice or a crag in a mountainside where there is a bit of grass to be eaten. And the shepherds know that there is no point in going after them until they have eaten all the grass that is there, and they are starting to get too hungry and too weak to run away. Because if he pursues them one minute sooner, they will just jump off the crevice, and likely fall to their death. So the good shepherd waits until they are sufficiently weakened, and then goes after it, and it is lifted onto shoulders and gently carried back to the fold.

A good shepherd keeps the flock together, in order to keep them safe. The shepherd is who the sheep rely upon for everything in their lives – for abundant green pasture, and deep cooling water. For rest and safety, away from the wolves and other predators.  In order to provide this, the flock and the shepherd are not able to stay in one place, but must move from place to place, to continue searching for the next sources of food and water. They sometimes must go through valleys where there is great risk of predators.  The sheep’s lives are dependent on the protection of the shepherd. And protection comes not only through use of the rod and the staff, but also in the way the shepherd serves as a gate for the sheepfold.

When Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd; I lay down my life for the sheep”, he is describing the way the shepherd literally lays down at the entrance to the sheepfold, and becomes the gate, so that nothing can pass through and endanger the sheep.

One writer compared the care of a shepherd for the sheep to that of a mother’s love – fierce, ready to lay down one’s life for the child’s sake, the sheep’s sake.

How can we relate to this, in this day and age? What does this have to say to us today? This was a great analogy to use back in Biblical times, because there were sheep and shepherds all over the place.

Everybody understood immediately what it meant to have Jesus as the good shepherd, to have their human tendencies to go off and try to make it on their own be so accurately compared to sheep.

So for us, this description fits when we begin to acknowledge that we, too, want to take matters into our own hands, to take care of ourselves, and not to turn ourselves over to the care of our Shepherd Lord.

But life on our own terms is not abundant life. For abundant life, we must trust Christ, and follow where he leads.

David Lose, who is a professor at Luther Seminary in St Paul, has this to say:

“I suspect that authentic abundant life demands that we be more vulnerable than we're prepared to be. So much of our life is about protecting ourselves: giving the impression that we really do have it all together and in this way guarding ourselves against vulnerability. The difficulty, though, is that we cannot experience abundant life without exposing those very vulnerabilities we want to hide.

Think about it: so much of our life is caught in a double-bind. We want honesty in our relationships –with each other and with God – and yet we simultaneously hold back, not taking the risk to expose ourselves fully to others, for fear that they may reject us.

It seems like a legitimate fear, because people have rejected us in the past. And so we wrap ourselves in emotional armor, hoping to protect ourselves from hurt, perhaps all the while knowing that as long as we are not honest about who we are we cannot trust the love and acceptance others would offer us. After all, would they accept us, we silently ask ourselves, if they really knew us?

But through the incarnation, Jesus knows who we are. Jesus, the good shepherd, knows his sheep, and as sheep we know him, we know his voice.

Jesus knows our deepest fears and insecurities and has embraced them all.

And in his resurrection, he comes bearing the peace he has offered all along, accompanied with the promise that his love is greater than fear and that his new life is greater than death."

This is how Jesus shepherds us, (as we sang earlier), beyond our wants, beyond our fears, from death into life.

But then what we need to do is to claim this promise for ourselves.

And it is a promise!

Abundant life is a promise; it’s not something to earn or achieve, save up for, budget, buy or barter for.

Rather, it is a gift, the sheer gift of a God who loves us enough to lay down his life for us.

There are so many thieves and bandits in this world who would rob us of life, who would cheat us of abundance, who would convince us to live lives of scarcity and fear.

But into the midst of that, Jesus comes as the gatekeeper and good shepherd, the one who knows his sheep – intimately and truly – and who calls us by name so that we can not only hear the first difficult truth about ourselves and our utter inability to create abundant life on our own, but that we also may believe and receive the second and wonderful truth about God's great and victorious love for us all.

 So with this promise of abundant life, let us come together as a flock, let us trust in the Good Shepherd who lays down his life for us, let us worship and learn together just like those of the early church, and let us listen as one people, one congregation, for God’s plans for us together.

Let’s listen together as the Good Shepherd calls us by name, calls us from death into life, calls us on the path that leads to green pastures, to still waters, to restored souls.

Come, let us listen together.

Reference: WorkingPreacher.org May 2011

Known in Breaking

Luke 24:13-35 (NRSV)

Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. And he said to them, "What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?"

They stood still, looking sad. Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, "Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?"

He asked them, "What things?" They replied, "The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place.

Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him." Then he said to them, "Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?" Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.

As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, "Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over." So he went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight.

They said to each other, "Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?" That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. They were saying, "The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!" Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

[Orange, banana, loaf of bread, cracked clay pot, on table]

We like things to be unbroken. When things are unbroken, they are prettier. They seem more put together; more likely to last, greater value.

We like our apples unbruised, our bread loaves with beautiful crusts, our oranges to be unpeeled, with shiny, unblemished skin.

We like our bananas to be that perfect shade of yellow; not green, and not too many of those brown spots. Even our clay pots. Even though they have holes in the bottom to let them drain, we want those holes to be the perfect ones, right? Any other chips or cracks or holes and we know that the pot is damaged goods, not as good as the ones that look like they “should”, the ones that are like all the others.

When we think about something being broken, we consider it to be hurt or damaged in some way. It may have come apart, and we can see inside it. We think of sin as brokenness. We are not as we ought to be, when we sin. We are not perfect. Perfect is good, broken is bad.

There are scripture passages about being perfect that can get confusing sometimes. When Jesus says, “be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect”, we can easily conclude that God is expecting perfection from us. Seems impossible. But it’s more a translation problem than an expectation problem. The Greek word used here is teleos – which means complete, entire, full-grown.

The poet Kathleen Norris, in her book “Amazing Grace: A Vocabulary of Faith” says “perfection, in a Christian sense, means becoming mature enough to give ourselves to others. Whatever we have, no matter how little it seems, is something that can be shared with those who are poorer. This sort of perfection demands that we become fully ourselves as God would have us: mature, ripe, full, ready for what befalls us, for whatever is to come.”

When we are ripe and ready to break open and share our selves, our lives, all that we have with others, then we are complete; we are perfect.

When Cleopas and the other disciple encountered that person they did not recognize, while walking the seven mile journey on the road from Jerusalem to Emmaus that day, they expressed to him their discouragement, their utter disappointment, how they had once hoped that Jesus of Nazareth would be the one to redeem Israel. The Savior, the Messiah. And so he opened up the scriptures to them, interpreting all that was said about him.

Still they did not recognize him. But something made them decide to invite him to dinner, to keep him from walking ahead on the road and leaving them.

And at dinner, he took bread, blessed it, and broke it open. And as the bread was broken open, their eyes were opened, and they recognized him. Jesus the Christ was revealed to them, was made known to them in the breaking of the bread. The salvation they had hoped for became accessible to them, became real. And even as Jesus vanished from their site, they ran out the door, all the way back to Jerusalem, to tell the others.

When New Life PC was born three years ago, I suspect you had hoped that this would be the way to save the churches from which you were formed, didn’t you? And I would imagine that you have all had your moments of discouragement and disappointment in the three years since then.

But if we are mature enough, ripe, ready for whatever befalls us, in the words of Kathleen Norris – if we are perfectly ready to be broken open, then, just like the seeds and the buds that break forth in this spring season of rebirth, we can be changed, we can embrace the New Life that God has in store for us.

If we are willing for our eyes to be opened, then we can recognize Christ in our midst, just as the disciples recognized him in the breaking of the bread.

In order for God’s will to be revealed, we must be ready to be broken open, so that God’s glory can be accessible and useful for our new mission in the world.

It is not about keeping ourselves pretty, and unbroken, and well put together, looking just as we always did. It is about breaking ourselves open so that through our collective resources, through ourselves, the love of God can be shared with others, so that we can help bring forth the kingdom of God.

CS Lewis wrote about what it takes to keep one’s heart from being broken. He said, “To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.”  [from The Four Loves]

I think these words fit well in thinking about the church, too. If we protect ourselves from getting broken open, we will become unbreakable, and therefore unusable for the will of God. To love is to let ourselves be vulnerable.

Heather Kopp is a recovering alcoholic who wrote a book called “Sober Mercies”. She has heard from many people who read the book and tell her that they experience community more in AA and other 12 step recovery groups than they do in church.

In response to this, she writes:

“Let's agree that many churches do work hard to provide the kind of openness and safety that invite intimate fellowship. And of course, beliefs and brokenness aren't mutually exclusive; you can embrace both, and most Christians I know try to do this. That said, I do think the church could learn something from recovery groups about how to create safe places where intimate community can happen.

Too often, it seems like we Christians care more about what people believe than we do about loving them. And when "right beliefs" become the basis for inclusion in our fellowships, some of the most broken among us don't feel welcome. But inviting that person into our heart space where we may feel broken open ourselves takes courage.

Lately a friend of mine who recently lost her husband came to stay in our guest room for a week. As much as she was tempted to isolate at home, she had the bravery to finally admit she needs to be around people right now, and let them into her grief.

And here's the beautiful part. My husband and I needed this, too. Since all our kids are long gone, her presence in our home felt like such a gift.

Having her join us for dinner or watching TV – she in her pajamas – gave us a dose of that family feeling we keenly miss.

Today, I find myself thinking about how all this relates to the gospel. How the Old Testament Law failed to bring mankind close enough to God. How God sent his Son to die – beaten and broken on the cross – so He could make his home in our very soul. Maybe God understood that we bond more deeply over shared brokenness than we do over shared beliefs – not just with each other, but with God, too.”  [From Bonding Over Brokenness - Huffington Post]

Inside the orange or banana, once we break it open, we find the fruit that nourishes us, and that we can share with others. When we break open the beautiful, crusty loaf of bread, we find inside the nourishment in the soft loaf of bread.

As we travel the journey as a congregation toward full merger and community, we must recognize – open our eyes - to the brokenness that is part of this journey – the grief associated with changing familiar identities and comfortable communities, the fear associated with moving in together, the loss of familiarity – and we must treat this as a brokenness that we share, a mutual breaking open of ourselves, so that we can all respond with the love of Christ to one another.

We must all break ourselves open, to be fully accessible to one another and to the world, to create new bonds of community, and to seek to discover together God’s will for us. And we do this, knowing that it is Christ’s broken body that brings us our salvation, and giving thanks to God for that, now and always.