Keeping the Season

"Still Life Xmas Card" by Derek Finch, on Flickr

Reading for the day: John 12:20-36

from We Would See Jesus
by Ann Weems

That it had to come to this!
That Jesus had to die
in order for us to live!
Just as wheat dies to the earth
and later bears much fruit,
Jesus had to die to the world
that he could live again
for all of us
that we through him could live.

I had a plant that died one winter.
Because of the ice-covered earth,
I put the plant in the garage,
thinking I would throw it away
when the ice thawed,
wash out the pot, and replant.

When spring came, I went to
the darkness of the garage
and there in the pot
the plant boomed green.
Resurrection in my face.

"L'interminable/The never ending/La interminable" by Elf-8, on Flickr

In Blackwater Woods
by Mary Oliver

Look, the trees
are turning
their own bodies
into pillars

of light,
are giving off the rich
fragrance of cinnamon
and fulfillment,

the long tapers
of cattails
are bursting and floating away over
the blue shoulders

of the ponds,
and every pond,
no matter what its
name is, is

nameless now.
Every year
everything
I have ever learned

in my lifetime
leads back to this: the fires
and the black river of loss
whose other side

is salvation,
whose meaning
none of us will ever know.
To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

-in New and Selected Poems, Vol. 1

anatomy" by Ben Giles, on Flickr

Acts 3:12–19
When Peter saw it, he addressed the people, "You Israelites, why do you wonder at this, or why do you stare at us, as though by our own power or piety we had made him walk? The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, the God of our ancestors has glorified his servant Jesus, whom you handed over and rejected in the presence of Pilate, though he had decided to release him. But you rejected the Holy and Righteous One and asked to have a murderer given to you, and you killed the Author of life, whom God raised from the dead. To this we are witnesses. And by faith in his name, his name itself has made this man strong, whom you see and know; and the faith that is through Jesus has given him this perfect health in the presence of all of you. And now, friends, I know that you acted in ignorance, as did also your rulers. In this way God fulfilled what he had foretold through all the prophets, that his Messiah would suffer. Repent therefore, and turn to God so that your sins may be wiped out.

1 John 3:1–7
See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are. The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him. Beloved, we are God's children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is. And all who have this hope in him purify themselves, just as he is pure. Everyone who commits sin is guilty of lawlessness; sin is lawlessness. You know that he was revealed to take away sins, and in him there is no sin. No one who abides in him sins; no one who sins has either seen him or known him. Little children, let no one deceive you. Everyone who does what is right is righteous, just as he is righteous.

Luke 24:36b–48
[Jesus said,] "Peace be with you." [The disciples] were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost. He said to them, "Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have." And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet. While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering, he said to them, "Have you anything here to eat?" They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate in their presence. Then he said to them, "These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you — that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled." Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures, and he said to them, "Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. You are witnesses of these things.
---

So you may have noticed that today’s gospel reading from Luke, on the surface, sounds suspiciously similar to last week’s gospel reading from John. Nope, you haven’t stepped into a weird time warp where you are stuck repeating Easter 2 over and over and over again like the movie Groundhog Day, I promise!

Today, we have another story of the resurrected Jesus showing up among the disciples. Like last week’s account from John, the disciples are gathered together in a room, hidden away. Like last week’s gospel, Jesus shows up among them and says, “Peace be with you.” Like last week’s gospel, Jesus shows them his hands and feet, and the disciples, eventually, come to believe.

What is different between John’s gospel last week and Luke’s gospel today is the question of what the gospel writers were trying to prove about the resurrected Jesus. John, I think, was trying to establish the identity of Jesus post-resurrection. Jesus appeared to the disciples and to Thomas as if to say, “hey look, it’s me, Jesus, and not somebody else!” When Thomas finally gets his chance to encounter the risen Christ, he responds with a declaration of identity: “My Lord and my God!”

Luke’s gospel is less concerned with the identity of the risen Christ, and far more concerned with his bodily reality.

Maybe it’s because tradition says that Luke was a physician that he seems more concerned than the other gospel writers with matters of Christ’s humanity, even from the very outset of his gospel. Luke is the only gospel that gives us a real birth narrative. Luke’s gospel is concerned with establishing Jesus as the real human savior for real human needs like hunger and pain and poverty and oppression. And here, after the resurrection, Luke takes care to establish not just the identity of the resurrected Jesus, but also his bodily reality. For Luke, it is important that the disciples and all of us know that Jesus, who fully died, has been fully raised.

"Why are you frightened?” Jesus asks, “And why do doubts arise in your hearts? Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have." And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet.

But even having seen these wounds, Luke tells us that the disciples, even in their joy, were yet also disbelieving and still wondering, and so Jesus takes it one step further: He said to them, "Have you anything here to eat?" They gave him a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate in their presence. Ghosts, spirits, disembodied souls: they do not need to eat. But bodies do.

And so he shows his hands and feet and eats a snack to prove that he is, indeed, resurrected in the flesh, because anything less fleshly would cease to be resurrection and would cease to be salvation.

In the opening stanzas of his marvelous poem, “Seven Stanzas for Easter,” John Updike writes,

Make no mistake: if He rose at all
it was as His body;
if the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
reknit, the amino acids rekindle,
the Church will fall.

It was not as the flowers,
each soft Spring recurrent;
it was not as His Spirit in the mouths and fuddled
eyes of the eleven apostles;
it was as His flesh: ours.

The heart of our Christian faith rests upon this truth that Christ was born - really born; body, mind, and spirit - and that Christ died - really died; body, mind, and spirit - and that Christ then rose again - really rose; body, mind, and spirit. He's not a ghost. He is touchable. He is hungry. He has wounds and scars. He - his body - is resurrected from the dead, so that our bodies will also will be resurrected at the end of all things.

Saint Gregory of Nazianzus, writing in the fourth century, said “That which He has not assumed He has not healed; but that which is united to His Godhead is also saved.”

By this he means that Christ had to take on flesh so that we, as children of the flesh, might be redeemed. More than this, the very death and resurrection of Christ’s own body has united us with God and, in the words of 1 John, has made us “children of God; and that is what we are.” 1 John goes on to say that when Christ is finally revealed, “we will be like him.” Just as Christ was raised not on in spirit but also in body, so will we be like him in our own resurrection - raised not only in spirit but also in body.

This is the same message as we get in Peter’s sermon in Acts today. The crowds have just watched the apostles heal a lame man at the entrance to the temple, and they are amazed, so Peter starts preaching. He asks, ”Why do you wonder about this? Is the power to heal bodies not the very power of God, the same power that forgives sins and the same power that raised Christ from the dead?” Peter’s message here is that the power of God to raise Christ in the flesh is the power of God to forgive us and to heal our human bodies and to save our created world.

Even though we live a bodily, earthy, dirty life, I think that it is sometimes much easier for us to imagine the work of God taking place the spiritual realm, the neighborhood of the soul, the purification of minds and desires, than it is to understand the work of God on behalf of bodies, and not just human bodies, but animal bodies and plants and trees and the entire body of creation.

But when we, in our confession of faith, proclaim, “I believe in the resurrection of the body,” we are confessing that we have a God who cares about not just souls, but bodies; a God who cares not just for the heavenly realm, but for the created matter of this universe; a God who cares not just for matters of the spirit, but for matters of flesh, too.

And why is this so very important, that God cares about bodies?

It is important because somewhere, there is a transgender youth who is trying to figure out what to do with a body and an identity that don’t fit together.

It is important because somewhere, there is a 99 year old man whose joints are failing who feels creaky and useless as he waits out his days in a care facility.

It is important because somewhere, there is a 45 year old woman who has been yo-yo dieting since she was 14, who believes that her body will forever remain unloveable.

It is important because somewhere, there is a college wrestler with an eating disorder who believes that his whole worth is tied u pin how well his body can perform.

It is important because somewhere, there is an infertile couple who feel like their bodies have completely failed them.

It is important because somewhere, there is a woman with a physical deformity that makes her feel excluded and invisible.

It is important because somewhere, there is a child with leukemia who has been sick for more days in their life than they have been well.

This is the power of the bodily resurrection: That Christ in his flesh has won for us the salvation of our bodies and the body of this world.

This is the power of the bodily resurrection: That Christ in his flesh has ushered the kingdom of God into our midst as it unfolds here and now and in the real stuff of crumbling housing projects and cancer and the dirty feet of children whose shoes have holes and the sunken faces of families who don’t have enough to eat.

This is the power of the bodily resurrection: That Christ in his flesh empowers us to feed hungry people and clothe naked people and march for justice and weep over prejudice and care for the frail and heal broken bodies; to care about carbon emissions and polluted water and to be conscious of how much trash we generate and which animal habitats we are destroying.

This is the power of the bodily resurrection: That Christ comes to us each week in this holy meal, where we touch and taste his body, and remember with our hearts and our tongues and our bodies and our spirits that Christ is here, among us, and that this bread and wine that we can touch are the elements of our salvation.

Brothers and sisters, just as the disciples touched the risen Christ, in the body, and by touching were assured of their salvation, so also do we touch Christ not only in the elements of communion, but in the body of Christ gathered here. If you were to reach out and touch the shoulder of the person next to you, you would be touching Christ’s body. If you were to clasp your own hands, you would be touching Christ’s body. If you were to plant your feet firmly on the ground to feel the strength of the foundations of the earth below, you would be touching Christ’s body.

Whatever you feel about your body - love it, hate it, whether it is strong or weak, a finished product or a work in progress - your body is blessed and saved and will be resurrected, and it is given the very power of God to be a blessing in the world.

So let us close by blessing these very bodies that God has given us, through which we know God, by which we are called to be a blessing in the body of this world.

You have heard the holy and saving gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ. Now receive the sign of that gospel on your body and in your heart, that you may know the Lord and the power of his resurrection.

As a sign of God’s endless love and mercy for you,
Receive the + sign of the cross on your forehead.

That you may hear the gospel of Christ, the word of life,
receive the + cross on your ears.

That you may see the light of Christ illumining your way,
receive the + cross on your eyes.

That you may sing the praise of Christ, the joy of the church,
receive the + cross on your lips.

That God may dwell within you by faith,
receive the + cross on your heart.

That you may bear the gentle yoke of Christ,
receive the + cross on your shoulders.

That God's mercy may be known in your work,
receive the + cross on your hands.

That you may follow in the way of Christ,
receive the + cross on your feet.

May God bring you in peace and joy to fullness of life in the risen Christ. May the God of all grace, who has called you to glory, support you and make you strong, now and forever. Amen.
(from the ELW “Welcome to Baptism” rite)

"Des pieds et des mains" by Benoit Courti, on Flickr

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.

-Teresa of Avila (1515–1582)

"Caravaggio - The Incredulity of Saint Thomas"

John 20:19-21
When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained."

But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, "We have seen the Lord." But he said to them, "Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe."

A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe." Thomas answered him, "My Lord and my God!" Jesus said to him, "Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe."

Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.

"Sunset Fields" by Amanda, on Flickr

"Dulverton - Saint Stanislaus - Palm Sunday Painting" by david cronin, on Flickr

Mark 11:1-11
​When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, [Jesus] sent two of his disciples and said to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. If anyone says to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.’ ” They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, some of the bystanders said to them, “What are you doing, untying the colt?” They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it. Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting,

“Hosanna!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.

---
At the Minnesota State Fair,
walking through the livestock barns,
we came eye to eye with the tallest horse we’d ever seen.

His back, as tall as the top of my head;
his eyes, the size of oranges,
long-lashed and omniscient.
His head, towering above and
his mane, trailing down the slope of his neck.

Strong-stepped and graceful,
terrifying and gentle,
fully creature and yet otherworldly.

Next to his giant hooves, we were
but ants
or rodents.
The usual categories of “big” or “small”
seemed too narrow to contain
the height and weight and depth and length
of such a beast.

To ride such a creature would be to lord over all creation below.
Speed, height, strength, divinity, all conveyed
by the outline of a giant gentle beast.

But it was not upon this massive steed that Christ rode into the city.
It was not upon a Clydesdale, nor a racehorse, nor a wild horse from Chincoteague.

It was upon a mockery of a horse that this Savior came to town
(himself to be mocked).
He rode in on donkey.
On a colt, the foal of a donkey.

Humble beast of humble beasts,
low to the ground, pot-bellied,
like a zebra without its stripes.
Barely enough room for one man to ride,
slow-stepping, stubborn, clumsy,
a loyal but low down beast of burden.

Upon this ordinary creature,
an extraordinary Savior
crept in the back door of the city.

Pilate, doing political duty,
marched in the front gate
making an appearance (as politicians do).
The Passover festival meant a city
crowded with constituents.
His procession was
the hand of Rome marching to the heart
of Jewish celebration and identity;
He was a governor, lord over an occupied people,
marching in to celebrate with them
the ancient circumstances
of their liberation.

Through the front gate,
the noble procession of the Roman governor,
whose fanfares and banners and stewards preceded him,
who waved to a wide road
flooded with tourists and travelers and subjects.

Jesus entered the city from the other side.

Concerning Jerusalem,
Jesus did not hold the keys to the kingdom.
Concerning his entrance into Jerusalem,
there were no banners raised, no trumpets sounding,
just the cloud of faithful witnesses,
turning their garments into a fervent, pathetic red carpet,
decorating the path not with streamers and ribbons,
but tree branches plucked from the side of the road.

Who is this king of Glory?
The Lord, strong and mighty?
Is it this one, who totters in on a donkey’s child,
along a back road littered with leaves and muddy overcoats?

Hosanna! Blessing! -
to the one who comes in the name of the Lord,
who does not exploit the name of the Lord,
nor the fame of Pilate,
but turns his face toward Jerusalem,
setting his course,
riding in
knowing that he will not ride out
until his resurrected body will
ride up on the clouds.

Hosanna! Blessing! -
to the one who takes the back roads
into the back gates of
the holy city
but who does not turn backward
from his terrible destiny.

Palm Sunday is a story for
all those who sneak in the back door,
who arrive late,
who leave early,
so that no one will catch their gaze
or notice them
or judge them.

It is a story
for those who hang back
because of
fear shame vulnerability
grief anxiety secrets
doubts humility—humiliation.

Ride on,
ride on in majesty, king Jesus,
through the back streets,
through the back pews,
through the back doors,

ride on in pomp
to suffer
to die
to take on the depth
of our shadows and our tears.

Palm Sunday Jesus
took on flesh to save us in the flesh;
took on life to give us life;
took on the prick of pain and sting of death
to poke fun at the powers of
sins, devils, deaths…
and to trample them underfoot,
like broken palm branches marched over
by hoof and foot alike.

Hosanna! Blessing! -
if we were not shouting,
the very stones would cry out,
for the King of kings and Lord of lords
has come near,
has come here,
to fling wide the gates,
to be our courage,
to return our dignity,
to restore our lives,
to lead us from the back gates
to the pearly gates.

Hosanna! Blessing! -
to the Christ who comes in the name of the Lord.
He enters the city.
His face is set like flint

For this city,
the Jerusalem for whom Jesus wept,
is his destiny.

It is not his kingdom,
it is not his destination,
it is not his glory.

It is his self-emptying.
It is his demise.
It is his end.

And it is our beginning.

Hosanna.
Blessed is the one who comes
in the name of the Lord.

Hosanna.

Kelly Renee Gissendaner with the theologian Jürgen Moltmann in 2011, when she completed a prison theology program. Credit Ann Borden/Emory University; photo from New York Times

Genesis 17:1–7, 15–16
When Abram was ninety-nine years old, the LORD appeared to Abram, and said to him, "I am God Almighty; walk before me, and be blameless. 2And I will make my covenant between me and you, and will make you exceedingly numerous." 3Then Abram fell on his face; and God said to him, 4"As for me, this is my covenant with you: You shall be the ancestor of a multitude of nations. 5No longer shall your name be Abram, but your name shall be Abraham; for I have made you the ancestor of a multitude of nations. 6I will make you exceedingly fruitful; and I will make nations of you, and kings shall come from you. 7I will establish my covenant between me and you, and your offspring after you throughout their generations, for an everlasting covenant, to be God to you and to your offspring after you. 15God said to Abraham, "As for Sarai your wife, you shall not call her Sarai, but Sarah shall be her name. 16I will bless her, and moreover I will give you a son by her. I will bless her, and she shall give rise to nations; kings of peoples shall come from her."

Romans 4:13–25
13For the promise that he would inherit the world did not come to Abraham or to his descendants through the law but through the righteousness of faith. 14If it is the adherents of the law who are to be the heirs, faith is null and the promise is void. 15For the law brings wrath; but where there is no law, neither is there violation. 16For this reason it depends on faith, in order that the promise may rest on grace and be guaranteed to all his descendants, not only to the adherents of the law but also to those who share the faith of Abraham (for he is the father of all of us, 17as it is written, "I have made you the father of many nations") — in the presence of the God in whom he believed, who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist. 18Hoping against hope, he believed that he would become "the father of many nations," according to what was said, "So numerous shall your descendants be." 19He did not weaken in faith when he considered his own body, which was already as good as dead (for he was about a hundred years old), or when he considered the barrenness of Sarah's womb. 20No distrust made him waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God, 21being fully convinced that God was able to do what he had promised. 22Therefore his faith "was reckoned to him as righteousness." 23Now the words, "it was reckoned to him," were written not for his sake alone, 24but for ours also. It will be reckoned to us who believe in him who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead, 25who was handed over to death for our trespasses and was raised for our justification.

Mark 8:31–38
31Then [Jesus] began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. 32He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. 33But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, "Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things." 34He called the crowd with his disciples, and said to them, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. 35For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. 36For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? 37Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? 38Those who are ashamed of me and of my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels."

---
There are times that you sit down with the lectionary and can think of a million different directions to preach. And then there are times when you don't have any clear idea, and so you pray - beg, even - for the Holy Spirit to show up. The problem is that sometimes, when you beg, the Holy Spirit indeed shows up...and you sort of wish she hadn't.

Today is one of those days. I'm sure that if I hadn't begged for the Spirit's inspiration, I would have preached some bland but nice sermon about God's covenant promise with Abraham and about the covenant promise that God makes with us through the cross of Christ. But instead, I prayed for the Holy Spirit.

And in a five-minute span, two things happened.

First, I read anew today’s reading from Paul's letter to the Romans, where he contrasts the judgement of the law with the promise of faith: "The law brings wrath,” he writes, and “for this reason [our inheritance] depends on faith, in order that [God’s] promise may rest on grace and be guaranteed to all his descendants.”

Second, I did a quick check of the news, and tripped face-first over the story of Kelly Renee Gissendaner, someone for whom the wrath of the law and the promise of faith stand in dire opposition.

See, Ms. Gissendaner is a death row inmate in Georgia. She was sent to prison in 1998 for orchestrating the murder of her husband at the hands of her boyfriend. Earlier this week, her final petition for clemency was denied by the Georgia board of parole, and she is scheduled to be executed by lethal injection this Monday (tomorrow).

In 2010, Ms. Gissendaner joined some of her fellow inmates in a year-long theology course, run by Atlanta-area divinity schools and universities. She became a dedicated student of theology, passionately devouring works by the likes of Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Rowan Williams, and Jurgen Moltmann. As it turned out, Ms. Gissendaner's theology professor was friends with Professor Moltmann. If you aren't quite up on your contemporary theologians, Jurgenn Moltmann is a biggie. He's eighty-something years old and his works are pretty much required reading at all seminaries and divinity schools. With nothing to lose, Ms. Gissendaner asked her teacher whether it might be okay for her to write to him, thanking him for his writings, which had so moved and inspired her. The two became unlikely pen pals, sharing their faith and their insights with one another. Professor Moltmann even offered a commencement address for Ms. Gissendaner and the ten other inmates who were graduating the year-long theology course.

Ms. Gissendaner continued her theology studies even after the program ended, and has kept up her friendship with Professor Moltmann. She has leaned on her ever-deepening faith to sustain her through these last years in prison, and now into these last few days of her life. She has served as spiritual advisor and counselor to other women in prison with her. She has admitted to the brutal and broken circumstances of her crime. She has prayed and confessed and become a sign of the mercy of God. She has turned to God with her moments of trust and moments of doubt and moments of anger. And now, she looks to God as the giver of resurrection and life as she stares her own mortality squarely in the face.

Jesus says, "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life?"

Yes, Jesus says, the value of life is infinite, incomprehensible. So what does it profit any one of us to gain the whole world, and in the meantime, lose our lives? What is the cost of losing a life, either outside the law or at the hands of the law? What does it profit any one of us to be arbitrator of life and death? In the grand scheme of things, knowing that none of us will escape the cost of death, what is the true value of our lives, and where does that value come from?

Jesus, being no stranger to human life, human suffering, and human death, is also no stranger to being handed a life sentence. I have to believe that these words about the way of the cross are, at least in part, born out of the terror and grief of staring down his own untimely death at the hands of an empire, a law, and a people who will fail him.

We, as humans, routinely, spectacularly fail one another. Abraham and Sarah had failed one another in their childless old age. Peter had failed Jesus in a moment of weakness (and would continue to do so). Kelly Renee Gissendaner, by her actions, failed herself and her boyfriend and her husband and the social contract. And parole boards and prosecutors and judges and juries have now failed her. Someday, we, too, will be failed by our systems and structures, and ultimately, by our mortal bodies themselves.

The threat of death makes us honest, I think. Makes us see more clearly what really matters. Makes us more desperate to imagine a future with hope. Makes us more concerned with finding a word of promise to leave for those who will come after us.

This word of promise doesn't come from laws or institutions or human logic. Friends, our justice system will not save us. Neither will any attempts at vigilante justice. Neither capitalism nor Congress, banks nor universities, hospitals nor public servants will be able to guarantee us health, happiness, and life.

But Abraham and Sarah's story, the fervent and effective witness of Peter and Paul and all the apostles, and the very resurrection of Christ serve as reminders to us that the promise of God is an unbreakable promise for a future, and a future with hope, no matter how unlikely it seems. A future that is bigger than we are, a future that does not depend upon fallible human hands and hearts. A future of reconciliation and mercy and beautiful justice that God is ushering in despite all of our best attempts to mess it up.

My heart grieves, it breaks, for Kelly Renee Gissendaner. And for all criminals on death row. It breaks for their friends and peers and for their jailers. It breaks for lawyers and for parole boards and judges and juries. My heart breaks for the victims of violent crimes and their families and friends and supporters. I mean...my heart breaks for a lot of things. Basically, it breaks for all the ways that the laws of this world, written and unwritten, miss the mark in securing a hopeful future for all of our weary world.

The antidote to our grieving, breaking hearts? It is to lose ourselves in faith; to be absorbed by the divine light who gave us life; to put down the cross of anxiety or fear and to take up the cross of Christ; to be willing to lose everything that we might, at the mouth of the empty tomb, gain back everything we hoped for and more. Christ's resurrection is our unshakable assurance of God's promises fulfilled, of the perfect completion of the covenant that God makes with each of us.

When we set our minds on these divine things, rather than on human things, we will see that, though none of us is righteous by our own means, we yet receive righteousness reckoned to us by faith. And whenever and however our mortal lives are taken from us, it is by our faith in the gospel that we - and even Kelly - will yet receive life everlasting.

In the words of the aforementioned Jurgen Moltmann, from his work, Theology of Hope:

Faith…becomes itself a contradiction to the world of death. That is why faith, wherever it develops into hope, causes not rest but unrest, not patience but impatience. It does not calm the unquiet heart, but is itself this unquiet heart in man. Those who hope in Christ can no longer put up with reality as it is, but begin to suffer under it, to contradict it. Peace with God means conflict with the world, for the goad of the promised future stabs inexorably into the flesh of every unfulfilled present.

The promise of God for us and for all creation is permanently marked on each and every one of us, in that oil-drawn cross on our foreheads, given to us in baptism. The oil may have long faded away, but the cross marks us forever. It remains our assurance of hope, but is also stands as a testament to our calling.

May we bear God's hope into the world in many and various ways, but specifically as we, the baptized, take seriously our vocation: To live among God's faithful people; to hear the word of God and share in the Lord's supper; to proclaim the good news of God in Christ in word and deed; to serve all people, following the example of Jesus; and perhaps most importantly in our current world, to work for justice and peace in all the world; not peace as the world gives, but peace according to the compassion of Christ.

I pray today for you and for me, that God would raise up in our hearts a fire for justice and an tenderness toward all creation. I pray that we might not fear, but be bold in our proclamation that God's foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God's promise of hope is deeper than human ambition. I pray for Kelly and those who love her. I pray for her murdered husband and all who love him. I pray that we, as a society, continue to question and struggle and seek ways to protect and preserve life. I pray that each of us, driven by our faith, will anticipate God's risen and restored future, and work to bring about glimmers of that light-filled kingdom, however imperfectly.

We pray, come, Holy Spirit, come. Live in us. Move in us. Breathe in us. Challenge us. And send us out as signs of hope, symbols of peace, living witnesses to Christ, our savior, our redeemer, and the life of the world.

Amen.

"All saints' Day - Kära farmor" by Capelson, on Flickr

"They live on, those giants of our childhood. They manage to even take death in their stride. Death may take them, but it can never take our relationship with them. However else they still live on, they still live on in us. Memory is more than looking back to a time gone by; it is looking into another kind of time altogether. A time where everything that was continues to be – and grows and changes with the life that is in us.

The people we loved and who loved us; for good or for ill, taught us things. Dead though they may be, as we come to understand them in new ways, it is though they come to understand us – and we come to understand ourselves – in new ways too.

Who knows what 'the communion of saints' means, but surely it means that these people we once knew are not just voices that have ceased to speak. They are saints because though them the power and richness of life not only touched us once, but continues to touch us still.

They have their business to get on with – moving 'from strength to strength' – whatever that means. We might imagine ourselves on a fading shore as they move on to whatever shore may await them. But they carry with them something of us, as we do of them. And so, to think of them is not only to remember how they used to be. It is, in some way, to see and hear them as they now are.

If they had things to say to us then, they have things to say to us now – as we have to them. And the things now spoken may not be what they once were."

-Frederick Buechner

"poppies sunrise" by C-Smooth, on Flickr

---

Easter Morning
by Ann Weems

The stirring wildness of God
Calls brittle bones to leaping
And stone hearts to soaring.
Old women dance among the stars.

"Pebble balancing..." by Giulia Torra, on Flickr

---

Mary Magdalene, Remembering:
by Madeleine L'Engle

All time is holy.
We move through the dark
following his footprints by touch.
He walked the lonesome valley.
His time is holy.

We will break bread together.
We will move through the dark.
He has gone away from us.
The wine is poured out.
We will eat broken bread.

That Friday was good.
We will move through the dark.
Death died on Friday.
The blood-stained cross bore hope.
His Friday is good.

We will hold hands
as we move through the dark.
Saturday he walked through hell,
making all things new.
We will hold hands.

This is the meaning
of our walk through the dark.
Love’s light will lead us
through the stone at the tomb.
He is the meaning.

He called me by name
as I stood in the dark.
Suddenly I knew him.
He came. Then he left us,
he will come again.

"unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit" by Aaron Klinefelter, on Flickr

---

In Harvest
by Sophie Jewett

Mown meadows skirt the standing wheat;
I linger, for the hay is sweet,
New-cut and curing in the sun.
Like furrows, straight, the windrows run,
Fallen, gallant ranks that tossed and bent
When, yesterday, the west wind went
A-rioting through grass and grain.
To-day no least breath stirs the plain;
Only the hot air, quivering, yields
Illusive motion to the fields
Where not the slenderest tassel swings.
Across the wheat flash sky-blue wings;
A goldfinch dangles from a tall,
Full-flowered yellow mullein; all
The world seems turning blue and gold.
Unstartled, since, even from of old,
Beauty has brought keen sense of her,
I feel the withering grasses stir;
Along the edges of the wheat,
I hear the rustle of her feet:
And yet I know the whole sea lies,
And half the earth, between our eyes.

"Raising of Lazarus" by Jason Watson, on Flickr

John 11:1-45
Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped his feet with her hair; her brother Lazarus was ill. So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, "Lord, he whom you love is ill." But when Jesus heard it, he said, "This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God's glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it." Accordingly, though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.

Then after this he said to the disciples, "Let us go to Judea again." The disciples said to him, "Rabbi, the Jews were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?" Jesus answered, "Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Those who walk during the day do not stumble, because they see the light of this world. But those who walk at night stumble, because the light is not in them." After saying this, he told them, "Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him." The disciples said to him, "Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will be all right." Jesus, however, had been speaking about his death, but they thought that he was referring merely to sleep. Then Jesus told them plainly, "Lazarus is dead. For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him." Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, "Let us also go, that we may die with him."

When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. Martha said to Jesus, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him." Jesus said to her, "Your brother will rise again." Martha said to him, "I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day." Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?" She said to him, "Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world."

When she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary, and told her privately, "The Teacher is here and is calling for you." And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet come to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. The Jews who were with her in the house, consoling her, saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, "Where have you laid him?" They said to him, "Lord, come and see." Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, "See how he loved him!" But some of them said, "Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?"

Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, "Take away the stone." Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, "Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days." Jesus said to her, "Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?" So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, "Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me." When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out!" The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, "Unbind him, and let him go."

Many of the Jews therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him.

"'Rebirth' by Anne-Mari Burger" by Cue Online, on Flickr

John 3:1-17
Now there was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a leader of the Jews. He came to Jesus by night and said to him, "Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God." 
Jesus answered him, "Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above." 

Nicodemus said to him, "How can anyone be born after having grown old? Can one enter a second time into the mother's womb and be born?" 

Jesus answered, "Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit. Do not be astonished that I said to you, 'You must be born from above.' The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit." 

Nicodemus said to him, "How can these things be?" 

Jesus answered him, "Are you a teacher of Israel, and yet you do not understand these things?

Very truly, I tell you, we speak of what we know and testify to what we have seen; yet you do not receive our testimony. If I have told you about earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you about heavenly things? No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

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.

Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.
---

Nicodemus’s encounter with Jesus, under the cover of dark, brings before us this question of what it means to be born again. As Lutherans, we might not talk too often in terms of being “born again,” and yet there is something important enough to the idea that we include our assurance of rebirth in our liturgy for morning prayer. If you turn to page 302 in our hymnal (Evangelical Lutheran Worship), there it is: "You have been born anew through the living and abiding word of God." Let’s practice singing that dialogue:

You have been born anew. Through the living and abiding word of God.

This is our refrain for the rest of our sermon time. I invite you to sing that response as it comes up throughout the sermon. And now, let us begin.

You have been born anew. Through the living and abiding word of God.

It was sixth grade. Our middle school youth group was attending Super Second Saturday, a nondenominational Christian youth rally, a one-night event with speakers and music, held in a big arena. The seats were blue, and we were sitting in the first rows off the floor, right behind a railing. The band Petra played, which if you aren't familiar, was maybe the most famous Christian hair band of the eighties. Late in the evening, the emcee, over quiet piano music in the background, explained to the gathered crowd about how God loved us so much that he sent Jesus to die for us, and that even though we were all sinners, Jesus died to save us. And then he offered up the invitation: If you were ready to be born again, to accept Jesus into your heart, then you were supposed to come to the floor of the arena, where there would be somebody waiting to pray with you. Or if you were already a believer but you wanted to recommit your life to Christ, you could also come down.

Sarah and I were perhaps a bit naive. But we were also working very hard to take our faith seriously, so we decided that there was no harm to be done in affirming our faith by recommitting our lives to Christ. And so we went, together, and a very nice college student met us at the bottom of the aisle, and we walked off, behind the set, to an empty section of seats. He took down our names and addresses, and checked the box on the form that said "recommitting." And then we said a short prayer. He prayed first, and then Sarah and I each were supposed to say something, and I remember it being very unceremonious and a little bit awkward. After we said "amen," he said some encouraging and celebratory things, and then we found our way back to the group.

If I was working to take my faith seriously at 11 years old, I was also very shy about such things. In the next weeks, I received a series of mailings from the organizers of the rally. A letter of congratulations for choosing to be born again in Christ, and various resources intended for new Christians including a pamphlet explaining to me the basics of Christianity, complete with a line drawing of a great cavern labeled “sin,” with me on one side and God on the other, and then a second line drawing of that same cavern, except this time with a cross labeled “Jesus” bridging the gap. I was mortified to receive these mailings, and terrified that my parents might ask me about them. I had grown up in the church, and couldn't remember a time before I believed in God, and it made me feel like I had done something wrong at the rally or somehow miscommunicated with the guy taking down my information, because I wasn’t a new Christian. I didn’t need these mailings. I hid them away on the shelf above my bed, where I kept my secret stuff, and resolved not to get caught up in something like this again.

You have been born anew. Through the living and abiding word of God.

Fast forward to my first semester of seminary. It was finals week, and I grabbed a bunch of books and notecards and walked downtown to Starbucks to study over some coffee. I was studying for my Old Testament final, and my textbook was sitting on the table next to my cup. A man walked by the table, dropped a tract onto my notes, and pointed to my book, saying "If you like that, then you might be interested in what that booklet has to say."

My first reaction: frustration and offense. I wasn’t sure what vibe I was giving off to make him assume that I wasn’t a person of faith.

My second (and better) reaction: to kindly explain to him the irony of the situation. And so I spoke up and said, "Oh. Well, I'm actually in seminary studying to be a pastor right now..." and trailed off, hoping that he would realize that he probably didn't need to be worrying about my faith or salvation, and leave me alone, because my notes really weren't going to study themselves.

Instead, he took the opportunity to pull up a chair and talk to me about how I must, then, understand and appreciate how important it was to evangelize people, and that it was important to ensure that people were born again so that they would know their destiny when they died. I didn't say much in the conversation, and was very glad when it was over.

You have been born anew. Through the living and abiding word of God.

Nicodemus comes to Jesus at night, curious about the kingdom of God, and Jesus tells him, "you must be born anew." The word, in Greek, can be translated "anew" or "again" or "from above." All of them pointing to the idea that believing in God and following Christ is somehow so transformative that it is as if we are given an entirely new life, that we are reborn.

Christians struggle among themselves to make sense of this idea of being born again. Is it a decision that humans make for Christ? Is it not a decision, but an awareness of the moment when we consciously come to faith? Or is it something else?

Jesus says that rebirth is a matter of the Spirit, a Spirit who blows where it may, rushing through the dry bones of this fleshy existence and re-enlivening our souls, apart from our own power, apart from our own choosing. He implies born anew is something elemental, like the rush of both wind and water. It is an awakening, like the way that the earth rises from sleep when springtime begins to unfold.

There was that day last week when it first felt like spring. The sun was shining and the temperature crept into the 50's. A breeze blew over the face of the earth, and you could feel, deep in your bones, that spring was on its way.

It wasn't just that the breeze was warm. It was that the wind carried with the scent of earth, of green and growing things. The giant mounds of snow collapsed in on themselves, giving off running canals of melted water, flowing into the streets, washing away the ice and the sand of winter. Everything was muddy, damp. Water rested in giant pools and puddles on the sidewalk, and it flowed under and around the soles of your feet as it rolled downhill, seeking lower ground. In the water, in the wind, you could feel in your very bones that spring was not far off. The promise of buds and shoots and the resurrection of the earth could not be ignored.

And it filled the senses. The sight of mud and melting, the smell of green earth, the taste of the breeze, the sound of birds, the feel of the sun on your hair, the feeling of spring deep in your soul and body.

Isn't this what rebirth is supposed to feel like? Isn't rebirth bigger than a blue stadium seat and more life-transforming than a drive-by evangelism at a coffee shop?

You have been born anew. Through the living and abiding word of God.

At the beginning of all things, we read that the Spirit of God hovered over the waters, and from water and spirit came the birth of all creation. At the end of all things, we read about the rebirth of all creation, where the river of the water of life flows from the throne of God, bright as crystal, watering a towering tree of life, whose leaves are for the healing of the nations.

Baptism is our own opportunity to enter into these moving waters, flowing from creation to new creation, making of each of us a new creation by water and the Spirit. Baptism is one moment of rebirth in a series of rebirths that take place in our lives, for as Martin Luther says, we daily drown to sin and rise as a reborn person in God-in-Christ.

And rebirth always takes place in the passive voice. We are reborn. We have been born anew. We are daily born again. Rebirth is not something we do, it is something that happens to us. Jesus teaches Nicodemus that rebirth is more than a moment and more than a decision. Rebirth is the work of God's Spirit, overpowering us and transforming us. God is the active agent in rebirth, and not ourselves.

For this is the God who so loved the world that he gave his only Son, not to condemn the world, but to save it, and not to leave us to death, but to raise us to eternal life. This is the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, the God of the covenant, the God who keeps his promises. And God’s promise for you and for me, in this time and in this place, is that we have been born anew, not by any feat of our own strength, but because our God is merciful, and loves his whole creation.

So to all those parts of you that feel frozen, creaky, weak, or dying;
to the dry and dusty corners of your soul,
to the despair of this first life,
to the frailty and even futility of this flesh,
Hear this good news:
You must be born anew, by water and the spirit.
You are born anew, by water and the spirit.
The Spirit blows where it chooses, and you see not where it comes from nor where it goes,
But when it rushes through you, you feel new breath in your lungs,
new hope in your soul,
A lingering sense that today, this very day, you have been given new life.
You have been reborn.

You have been born anew. Through the living and abiding word of God.

"All Saints' Day" by Lady Nessa, on Flickr

A Litany for All Saints Day
by Mary Lou Kownacki, OSB

O Cosmic Christ,
in you
and through you
and for you,
all things were created;
in you
all things hold together
and have their being.

Through Teilhard de Chardin,
scientist of the cosmos,
you imagined a new heaven and a new earth.
Through Teresa of Avila,
charismatic leader,
you inspired a church of courage and wisdom.
Through Mahatma Gandhi,
great soul,
you became nonviolent in the struggle for justice.
Through Catherine of Siena,
fearless visionary,
you forged a new path for women.
Through Meister Eckhart,
creative mystic,
you refused to abandon the inner light.
Through Hildegard of Bingen,
greenness of God,
you poured out juicy, rich grace on all creation.
Through Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.,
drum major of freedom,
you shattered racial barriers
and freed dreamers to dream.
Through Anne Frank,
writer and witness,
you preserved goodness in the midst of great evil.
Through Cesar Chavez,
noble farmworker,
you transformed the dignity of human labor.
Through Harriet Tubman,
prophet and pilgrim,
you led the captives into freedom.
Through Vincent Van Gogh,
artist of light,
you revealed the sacredness
in sunflowers
and in starry nights.
Through Thea Bowman,
healer songbird,
you danced the African-American culture
into the Church.
Through Pope John XXIII,
window to the world,
you awakened awareness to the signs of the times.
Through Mother Teresa of Calcutta,
guardian of the unwanted,
you enfleshed a reverence for all life.
Through Thomas Merton,
universal monk,
you explored the sanctity of every human search.
Through Mary Magdalene,
apostle to the apostles,
you ordained women to proclaim the good news.
Through Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart,
musician of Holy Mystery,
you bathed the world in beauty.
Through Julian of Norwich,
anchoress and seer,
you showed the Mother image of God.
Through Dom Bede Griffiths,
marriage of East and West,
you unveiled the divine face
at the heart of the world.
Through Joan of Arc,
defender and protector,
you remained true to personal conscience
over institutional law.
Through Rumi,
poet in ecstasy,
you illuminated friendship as mystical union.
Through Maura Clarke and Companions,
martyrs of El Salvador,
you rise again in the hopes of the dispossessed.
Through Rabbi Abraham Heschel,
Hasidic sage,
you answered our search for meaning
with wonder, pathos for the poor, and Sabbath rest.
Through Dorothy Day,
pillar of the poor,
you recognized holiness as bread for the hungry.

O Cosmic Christ,
in your heart
all history finds meaning and purpose.
In the new millennium,
in the celebration of jubilee
help us find that which we all seek:
a communion of love
with each other
and with you, the Alpha and Omega,
the first and last,
the yesterday, today, and tomorrow,
the beginning without end.
Amen.

"Look up, look down" by wesley peyton, on Flickr

Then the word of the LORD came to [Elijah], saying, Go now to Zarephath, which belongs to Sidon, and live there; for I have commanded a widow there to feed you. So he set out and went to Zarephath. When he came to the gate of the town, a widow was there gathering sticks; he called to her and said, "Bring me a little water in a vessel, so that I may drink." As she was going to bring it, he called to her and said, "Bring me a morsel of bread in your hand." But she said, "As the LORD your God lives, I have nothing baked, only a handful of meal in a jar, and a little oil in a jug; I am now gathering a couple of sticks, so that I may go home and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it, and die." Elijah said to her, "Do not be afraid; go and do as you have said; but first make me a little cake of it and bring it to me, and afterwards make something for yourself and your son. For thus says the LORD the God of Israel: The jar of meal will not be emptied and the jug of oil will not fail until the day that the LORD sends rain on the earth." She went and did as Elijah said, so that she as well as he and her household ate for many days. The jar of meal was not emptied, neither did the jug of oil fail, according to the word of the LORD that he spoke by Elijah. After this the son of the woman, the mistress of the house, became ill; his illness was so severe that there was no breath left in him. She then said to Elijah, "What have you against me, O man of God? You have come to me to bring my sin to remembrance, and to cause the death of my son!" But he said to her, "Give me your son." He took him from her bosom, carried him up into the upper chamber where he was lodging, and laid him on his own bed. He cried out to the LORD, "O LORD my God, have you brought calamity even upon the widow with whom I am staying, by killing her son?" Then he stretched himself upon the child three times, and cried out to the LORD, "O LORD my God, let this child's life come into him again." The LORD listened to the voice of Elijah; the life of the child came into him again, and he revived. Elijah took the child, brought him down from the upper chamber into the house, and gave him to his mother; then Elijah said, "See, your son is alive." So the woman said to Elijah, "Now I know that you are a man of God, and that the word of the LORD in your mouth is truth." (1 Kings 17:8-24)

Soon afterwards [Jesus] went to a town called Nain, and his disciples and a large crowd went with him. As he approached the gate of the town, a man who had died was being carried out. He was his mother's only son, and she was a widow; and with her was a large crowd from the town. When the Lord saw her, he had compassion for her and said to her, "Do not weep." Then he came forward and touched the bier, and the bearers stood still. And he said, "Young man, I say to you, rise!" The dead man sat up and began to speak, and Jesus gave him to his mother. Fear seized all of them; and they glorified God, saying, "A great prophet has risen among us!" and "God has looked favorably on his people!" This word about him spread throughout Judea and all the surrounding country.(Luke 7:11-17)

---
The story of Elijah and the widow of Zarephath is an old favorite of mine. I remember listening to Bible story tapes before bed as a child, and even to this day distinctly remember hearing about the jar of meal that wouldn’t run out and the jug of oil that was never emptied. I think that I imagined the neverending jug of oil as something similar to a fake glass of orange juice that came as part of a toy kitchen set; the glass was double-walled and between those two walls was the fake orange juice. When you tipped the cup, the liquid disappeared as if you were drinking it or pouring it out. But when you righted the glass, the liquid ran back, “refilling” the cup. I was pretty sure as a kid that the jug of oil functioned exactly like that glass.

But here’s the thing. This story of Elijah and the widow? The Sunday School version of the story only talks about the flour and the oil. Because it’s the fun part of the story: the awesome amazing miracle that leaves everybody happy. But as you know from today’s first reading, there’s more to the story. And it’s not particularly happy. The whole thing is actually a little gritty; when you look at the details, it’s really a story about hitting bottom.

To set the stage, we have to back up one chapter to 1 Kings 16, where we hear about the unfaithfulness of King Ahab. He has hit a new low in unfaithfulness, being deemed the king who has “done more to provoke the anger of the Lord…than had all the kings of Israel who were before him.”

In response, God has sent a drought upon the land as judgment for Ahab’s unfaithfulness. This means that a whole nation is in peril, as creeks dry up and crops wither away. Times are dire.

It is at this point that we meet the widow of Zarephath. She, through no fault of her own, is hovering close to the bottom. For starters, she is a widow. This means that she has no voice, no portion, and no protection outside of her only son. More than that, because of the lingering drought, her knuckles have been scraping the bottom of her jar of meal for days now, and on this particular day when Elijah shows up, she is gathering sticks to build a fire and prepare a last meal for herself and her son.

The audacity, then, of Elijah to prevail upon her, even after hearing her dire story, and insist that she first feed him. Perhaps she is moved to compassion by a fellow human being who knows hunger and thirst. Perhaps she is naively wooed by Elijah’s impossible promise of neverending flour and meal as a reward. Perhaps she has been so beaten down in life that she knows nothing other than being taken advantage of.

But there, at the very bottom, she makes that small cake for Elijah, prepares the rest of her stores for herself and her son, and come the next day, she finds that the jar which she thought she’d emptied still had flour in it, and the jug that she thought she’d poured out still had oil in it. Once at the very bottom, at the brink of death, she was now able to feed herself and her household indefinitely, rewarded by God for her hospitality and faithfulness.

It would be wonderful if this were the end of the story. Then I’d get to preach a sermon about how God comes through for us when it looks like we have nothing. Or about how God gives us the strength to be generous even in our times of scarcity.

But the story marches on. Barely have we had time to rejoice in the miracle of the flour and oil when the widow’s son falls ill. Ill to the point of death. There is no breath left in him.

If starving to death seemed like hitting bottom, then this tragedy has plummeted the widow through the floor into the basement below. Dying of starvation in the midst of a drought is one thing. A widow losing her only son, her only protection, her only hope, is quite another. Mixed-up together is the pain of grief, the fear for her future, and the shock and whiplash of being saved from death only to be cast at its feet.

“What have you against me?” she asks Elijah. “Why have you saved us with the miracle of food only to rip my only son from me?”

She has, once again, hit the bottom.

This is a cycle that we are all familiar with, in some fashion or another. Cycles of good news and bad news that repeat, cycles of depression that follow moments of joy, times when tragedies and deaths pile up one after another, times when we pull ourselves up and out of bad habits or addictions and then fall back into them again.

The widow of Zarephath, like the widow of Nain or Job or any other Bible character who has had their hope pulled out from under them, raises the question with us, “Where is God when we have hit bottom? Where is God when we have absolutely nothing left?”

Where is God when long winters and cold, rainy springs threaten our farms and livelihoods? Where is God when we have a good, new job in a new town, but not the money to pay the security deposit on an apartment to move there? Where is God when we grieve children who have died so many years too soon?

Where is God when we have absolutely nothing left? When we have hit bottom? One answer would be that when we hit bottom, God pulls us up.

This is certainly what happens in our readings today. Elijah cries out to God and the widow of Zarephath’s son is raised from the dead. Jesus has compassion on the widow of Nain and her son is raised from the dead.

So the simple answer here might something like God always brings life out of our death, and when we hit the very bottom and have nothing left, God shows up to give us back our lives. And I believe this is true. This is the hope that I cling to when the world around me seems too far gone.
But I think that there is a deeper, more satisfying, and perhaps even more faithful answer to the question of “Where is God when we have hit bottom and have nothing left?”

The answer is that God is with us. Always. No matter what. This is the heart of the good news in our readings today.

Elijah, at the death of the widow’s son, didn’t give her any trite assurances. He didn’t get defensive when she challenged him. He didn’t get up and walk away. Elijah, the man of God, the man serving as the mouthpiece of the Lord, went to the child and grieved, right alongside the widow. He cried out to God even as he was a walking, talking, weeping symbol of God’s presence, even there at the very bottom.

And Jesus, seeing the funeral procession heading out of town, took one look at the grieving widow and was moved to compassion. Nobody asked him to perform a miracle. Nobody called him over to the weeping crowds. Jesus took it upon himself to walk into the middle of the grief, and to care for this widow, this stranger, in her time of need. Jesus didn’t ignore the crowds, nor did he shoot off a miracle from afar. He put himself right in the center of grief, walking along the road with those who had hit the very bottom of their grief.

And so even as we cling to this everlasting hope that Christ is our resurrection, and that through him we have the power to know life even in our moments of grief and death, we also take yet greater comfort in knowing that God is never far off from us. That no matter how hard we hit the bottom, God doesn’t forget us. As it says in Romans, “For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

For I am convinced that nothing in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God. That is sublimely good news. And it is the heart of our Christian witness.

Because the heart our faith isn’t to naively promise everybody that everything will be just peachy; that life with God will always be good and happy and satisfying. The heart of our faith is to preach a Christ who walked with us to the point of death, who fed us a last meal in his dying days that might sustain us in our dying days, who promised never to leave us nor forsake us.

New creation is coming, yes. But while we wait, we have companionship with a God who is as unfailing as that jar of meal and that jug of oil. A God who pours himself out for us and is never spent. A God who never runs dry. A God who stands with us on the mountain peaks and weeps with us at rock bottom.

So eat this meal today, the flour and the oil of everlasting hope. Trust in a God who will not fail you. Take comfort in a savior who sees you with compassion, and who promises to walk with you every step of this life. Be sustained by God’s love, which will not fail.

"Rustic" by HD41117, on Flickr

Then the word of the LORD came to [Elijah], saying, Go now to Zarephath, which belongs to Sidon, and live there; for I have commanded a widow there to feed you. So he set out and went to Zarephath. When he came to the gate of the town, a widow was there gathering sticks; he called to her and said, "Bring me a little water in a vessel, so that I may drink." As she was going to bring it, he called to her and said, "Bring me a morsel of bread in your hand." But she said, "As the LORD your God lives, I have nothing baked, only a handful of meal in a jar, and a little oil in a jug; I am now gathering a couple of sticks, so that I may go home and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it, and die." Elijah said to her, "Do not be afraid; go and do as you have said; but first make me a little cake of it and bring it to me, and afterwards make something for yourself and your son. For thus says the LORD the God of Israel: The jar of meal will not be emptied and the jug of oil will not fail until the day that the LORD sends rain on the earth." She went and did as Elijah said, so that she as well as he and her household ate for many days. The jar of meal was not emptied, neither did the jug of oil fail, according to the word of the LORD that he spoke by Elijah.

After this the son of the woman, the mistress of the house, became ill; his illness was so severe that there was no breath left in him. She then said to Elijah, "What have you against me, O man of God? You have come to me to bring my sin to remembrance, and to cause the death of my son!" But he said to her, "Give me your son." He took him from her bosom, carried him up into the upper chamber where he was lodging, and laid him on his own bed. He cried out to the LORD, "O LORD my God, have you brought calamity even upon the widow with whom I am staying, by killing her son?" Then he stretched himself upon the child three times, and cried out to the LORD, "O LORD my God, let this child's life come into him again." The LORD listened to the voice of Elijah; the life of the child came into him again, and he revived. Elijah took the child, brought him down from the upper chamber into the house, and gave him to his mother; then Elijah said, "See, your son is alive." So the woman said to Elijah, "Now I know that you are a man of God, and that the word of the LORD in your mouth is truth." (1 Kings 17:8-24)

Send Us Your Spirit
David Haas

Come Lord Jesus. Send us your Spirit. Renew the face of the earth.
Come Lord Jesus. Send us your Spirit. Renew the face of the earth.

Come to us, Spirit of God. Breathe in us now. We sing together.
Spirit of hope and of light, be in our lives.
Come to us, Spirit of God.

Come Lord Jesus. Send us your Spirit. Renew the face of the earth.
Come Lord Jesus. Send us your Spirit. Renew the face of the earth.

Fill us with the fire of your love. Burn in us now. Bring us together.
Come to us; dwell in us. Change our lives, oh Lord.
Come to us, Spirit of God.

Come Lord Jesus. Send us your Spirit. Renew the face of the earth.
Come Lord Jesus. Send us your Spirit. Renew the face of the earth.

Send us the wings of new birth.
Fill all the earth with the love you have taught us.
Let all creation now be shaken with love.
Come to us, Spirit of God.

Come Lord Jesus. Send us your Spirit. Renew the face of the earth.
Come Lord Jesus. Send us your Spirit. Renew the face of the earth.

So many times I've gone away
from here, where I'd rather be
than any place I know, to go
off into the air for which
my only gift is breath, for I have
of myself no wings. It is death.
Farewell, my dearest ones.
Farewell, my lovely fields. Farewell,
my grazing flock, my patient horses,
Maggie my ardent dog. Farewell,
tall woods always so full of song.

However long I've stayed away,
coming home is resurrection. The man
who has been gone comes back to his place
as he would come naked and cold
into his own clothes. And they
are here, the known beloved: family,
neighbors obliging and dear. The dead,
too, denying their graves, haunt
the places they were known in and knew,
field and barn, riverbank and woods.
The familiar animals all are here.

Coming back is brightening in a grave,
such is the presage of old hymns.
To the place we parted from in sorrow
we return in joy: the beautiful shore,
eternal morning, unclouded day.

--Wendell Berry