FYI – I recommend listening to the recording because I improvised the opening paragraph below….
What’s your secret power? What’s something that you know or can do that no one would ever expect? SHOW CROSS STITCH. EXPLAIN WHY I ENJOY THAT HOBBY. Folks are always surprised when they find out about my hobby. Isn’t it weird how folks pigeonhole us? Why do they do that? Make all sorts of assumptions about what we can or can’t do. Folks thought I was an art major in undergrad. Folks thought I was a restaurant server in the pride band. On the one hand, it can be fun to surprise people. But other times being pigeonholed is hard. You get left out of things, or dismissed.
Jesus’ disciples knew all about being pigeonholed. A lot of them were from the region of Galilee. Which wasn’t a spectacular place. A few cities, but mainly a bunch of little country towns. Kind of like Indiana outside of Indianapolis. But it’s diverse. You can find Jews, Samaritans, and even Gentiles. They’ve got plenty of synagogues. They’ve even got Pharisees. So Galilee isn’t some backwater place with full of rednecks. They know a thing or two about religion and culture. But down south in the big city of Jerusalem, folks don’t care for their Galilean cousins from up north. They think Galileans are backwards. They don’t know Torah. They’re superstitious. They’re bad Jews. Basically, they’re trash because they’re not from Jerusalem. Folks from Galilee are all pigeonholed like this. Like someone said, can anything good come out of Nazareth? Because you know how they are.
In the world but not of the world. Have you ever heard that phrase? What does it mean? Like holding ourselves to a high standard. Being disciplined. Abstaining from worldly influences. It is a good way to be popular? Probably not. I remember when I was in high school. My family was Catholic, but we never went to church. But then a classmate down the street invited me to her Baptist youth group. So I went, and I had a great time. I really got sucked into the group. It gave me a real awakening of faith. Now, a big part of the culture was to be strong for the Lord. No drinking or smoking or sex. You could only listen to Christian music or watch Christian TV. You had to be careful who you hung out with so you wouldn’t be led astray. I was ok with that because I felt like I was being a true disciple. Except then I graduated and went to a Lutheran university, and it was all depravity from there…. (just kidding!)
In the world but not of the world. For a lot of Christians, this means that you’re trying to follow Jesus. To be pure and holy. But you’ve got a problem. You’re stuck in this broken world that keeps derailing you from your mission. The world’s full of strife. Politics. Racism. Mask-wearers versus anti-maskers. What we think about the police. So many issues, which may not seem religious, but a lot of folks believe this is supposed to be a Christian nation, so everything starts to feel religious. You pick the “right” side and avoid folks on the other side because they’re a bad influence.
But something seems off about that kind of avoidance. We don’t remember Jesus avoiding anyone. He was drawn to sinners and called them friends. So “in the world but not of the world” becomes more of an internal thing. Where it’s ok to have friends we disagree with, as long as we stand up for truth. Because maybe it’ll rub off on them. Or so we hope. Except, I don’t know about you, but friendship seems a lot harder these days. Or even getting along with co-workers or family members. Folks seem a lot less guarded about what comes out of their mouths. We’ve really got to watch what we say, so we don’t trigger those folks who disagree with us. We want to avoid arguments. We want to avoid risking our relationships. So, “in the world but not of the world” feels like it’s still about avoidance, but now we just avoid rocking the boat.
This week, our gospel reading is a difficult passage. Jesus is trying to teach his disciples about love. But love is a hard word to pin down. We have such different ideas about what it means. It starts with what we learn as children. Maybe your family always told that you were loved, and everything’s gregarious and demonstrative. Or maybe they avoided saying the word out loud, but showed it by their actions. Or maybe love was something that was given or withheld as a way to manipulate folks into doing what you want them to do. Lots of situations. As adults, that stuff still plays out in our relationships. Or therapy wouldn’t be a thing, right? Not that we’re just stuck on repeat. We all change in one way or another. But our love still has baggage. It’s complicated.
It’s complicated for Jesus’ disciples too. Jesus tells them, “As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love.” That’s reassuring, considering that Jesus has been telling them how he’s going to be taken away from them. But then Jesus says something strange. “If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love.” Now, when we think of Jesus, we think of how he loves sinners. Forgiveness and unconditional love. But here it sounds like Jesus is basically saying if you do what I say, then I will still love you. If-then. So right away, what’s our first question? What happens if we don’t? Will Jesus stop loving us? And it doesn’t help that Jesus just told the parable where he’s the true vine and his Father is the vinegrower. Jesus says, “He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned.” That’s not reassuring.
Most of you know I’ve been in the candidacy process for a long time. A really long time. Like, I think there was life before candidacy and seminary but I can’t really remember what that was like anymore. Now, we have a great candidacy committee, and the process has been good. But it started out in a rocky way. You interview with a panel who asks you really personal questions like “Tell us about your prayer life.” “What does Jesus mean to you?” They just want to get to know you, but it feel like a test. It’s been too long ago to remember everything, except what one person asked me. What will you do if no congregation will call you? Since you’re gay? Wasn’t ready for that question. It was such a shock that I don’t remember what I said.
Our reading from Acts reminds me of that question. Peter and the Ethiopian eunuch. This story always catches the attention of a lot of LGBTQ folks, because a eunuch was someone who didn’t fit into society’s conventions for gender or sexuality. We know what that feels like. Folks in every age have always had rigid ideas of what it means to be a man or woman, and that there can only be 2 categories. So when those rules are broken there’s always a cost. Persecution. Stereotypes. Biases. Condemnation. So, this story catches our attention because we want to know what happens with this guy. And we especially want to know what God thinks about him. Is he accepted or rejected? That’s a really telling question, isn’t it? Because it says we’re not sure. If faith is about confidence, but we’re not so confident, then what?
In case you didn’t get the memo, this is Good Shepherd Sunday. Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.” Good news up front! Now, it’s a parable, so what do we always do? We try to figure out which character we are. So by faith we hear Jesus telling us that he’s our shepherd and we’re his sheep. So naturally we compare our life of faith to sheep. Sheep are smelly and dumb, so let’s be humble. Sheep make bad decisions, so let’s admit we need a shepherd. Sheep recognize their shepherd’s voice, so we listen for Jesus’ voice in the tumult. I could keep going, but you get the point. We could talk about shepherds in the same way, but we’ll save that for another sermon. That just leaves the hired hand and the wolf, but we’ll get to them soon enough.
Now, whenever Jesus tells a parable, it matters who Jesus is telling it to. If he’s talking to his disciples, then we figure Jesus is teaching with love and compassion. Except what’s interesting here is that Jesus isn’t talking to his followers. He’s talking to a bunch of raging Pharisees. And Jesus is pretty angry too. Here’s what happened. Jesus gave sight to a blind man. And of all the miracle stories, this one stands out because there’s all kinds of interrogation afterwards. Neighbors drag the man to the Pharisees for questioning. The Pharisees don’t like his answers. So they summon his parents and question them. Now, his parents are painfully aware that if they don’t watch their mouths they’ll be kicked out of synagogue. You can’t afford that kind of social death in a small village. So they say “we don’t know. Ask him.” Then the Pharisees haul in the man for another round of interrogation. It’s a real Gestapo situation. Finally they get so outraged that they drive out the man. Jesus hears about it. He seeks out the man like a good shepherd. And he says these words. “I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind.” Naturally the Pharisees hear, because they’ve got ears everywhere. They say, “Surely we are not blind, are we?” Jesus answers, “If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, ‘We see,’ your sin remains. Then he tells this parable.
See, this is a parable of comdemnation. It may have good news in it, but not for these folks. Jesus is judging them. Not just because they refuse to acknowledge who Jesus is, or because they refuse to believe that such a miracle could happen. It’s that they’ve already written off the man as condemned by God. To them, blindness only means one thing. This man has sinned, and it’s unforgiveable. So for him to dare suggest that his blindness wasn’t his own fault? They’re outraged and tell him so. “You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?” So Jesus lays everything out. I am the good shepherd who lays down his life for the sheep. The hired hand, who is not she shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and abandons the sheep. And the wolf snatches them. Jesus is calling the Pharisees hired hands. These folks who God has called to tend the congregation. What do they do? They establish doctrine and judgment. I mean, you’ve got to have rules and categories, so that it’s abundantly clear who’s liable for everything that’s wrong. Because what would it mean if you couldn’t explain why bad things happen? That everything’s arbitrary? That we’re stuck in the hands of an angry God with no hope?
What does it mean to be a “child of God”? Is it about keeping God’s commandments, or just the fact that we’re born? Do they point fingers or keep mum? “Whenever you point a finger at someone else, you point 3 fingers back at yourself.” Maybe that makes it hard to feel like a child of God? It gets even more complicated with our 2nd reading for today from 1 John. It’s got a really strong opinion about what it means to be a child of God, so let’s take a look at that.
So here’s the situation. There’s a schism happening in some unknown congregation. A group of folks have split off because of an argument over doctrine. The folks staying behind are irate. Now, the doctrine isn’t what’s important here, but I know you’re curious, so long story short, was Jesus really human? In case you didn’t get the memo, yes, Jesus is totally human and divine. But this is the early church, so they don’t have 2000 years of teaching to fall back on. Everything’s up for grabs. They’ve got a lot to sort out. Though we’re not much better. Go around telling folks that Jesus pooped and farted and see what reactions you get. Clearly we’re still not totally comfortable with a human Jesus. The epistle is really worried that more folks were going to be lured over to the dark side back then. So it must have been pretty persuasive.
Last week I wrote a greeting card for a friend’s birthday. Naturally I waited until the day of, so I had to drop it off at his house. I think I put it off because it was so awkward. He lost his wife to covid some months back, and the family’s still struggling with it. I struggle in these situations because it feels weird to celebrate in the middle of such sadness, but I did my best. Just as I was walking to his mailbox, he saw me and came outside to talk. That was nice. He mentioned that since his wife’s death, he’s been a hermit, not really wanting to talk to folks. And it reminded me of when my mom died a few weeks ago. My sister told me how she was getting calls from a bunch of the cousins, but she wasn’t answering because she just didn’t feel like talking to anyone. Have you ever felt like that? You lose someone you love and then you just want to lock out the world?
This is the passion of our Lord Jesus Christ. He arrives in Jerusalem and everyone’s ecstatic. Loud hosannas and the waving of palms. But in just a few days we hear the crowd yell for Jesus to be crucified. How does that happen? Scripture says that the priests and scribes rile up the crowd. Inflaming their hate. But are folks really that impressionable? Or is something else going on? What makes people turn so dramatically from love to hate?
Have you ever wanted to be famous? What did you want to be famous for? Music? Acting? Writing a book? Glory is kind of a two-edged sword if you think about it. I mean, it’s exciting to imagine having some kind of talent that draws praise and makes you popular. But, the downside is that after a while, that’s the only thing that people want from you. How many child actors have discovered that? Glory makes it really hard to get folks to see that there’s more to you than just the thing that they want.
Glory was hard for Jesus too. From the beginning his message was simple. “The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe in the good news.” He forgives sins and announces the dawn of a new age. Like a new world order of compassion and justice, where the first will be last and the last will be first. It’s just the kind of message that folks are dying to hear. They run and tell their friends. Before you know it, this crowd starts to grow around him, following him wherever he goes. But Jesus isn’t just about words. He’s about action too. So he also starts healing folks by the power of the Spirit. Curing disease. Casting out demons. Giving folks a taste of real freedom from everything holding them back. Really miraculous stuff. So if his words weren’t enough to make him famous, his miracles more than made up for it. Folks start dragging people to Jesus for his healing touch.
The story of the Exodus is a real case study in trust. For 40 years Moses leads the Israelites from Egypt to the land of Canaan. Along the way it’s a constant series of hardships and struggles. They hunger and thirst. They fight with each other. They’re attacked by other nations. Each time, Moses calls upon God, and God intervenes in miraculous ways. Manna and quail to eat. Water from stones. Giving the commandments on Mt. Sinai. Giving them victory over more powerful enemies. God always steps in whenever the Israelites hit bottom. God’s determined to keep the promise even though the Israelites have some pretty big character defects, like mistrust. They never really seem to trust Moses or God.
Now, we shouldn’t be surprised. These miracles only come when folks are desperate, and they’re always the stuff of CGI and special effects. They’re mystifying. Water from a stone? So, if we’re honest, do they really feel trustworthy? And then there’s Moses. He doesn’t inspire confidence. He’s always wracked with self-doubt. Right from the start, God comes to him in the burning bush to call him, but Moses is like, who am I to lead the Israelites? What do I say? What if they don’t believe me? What about my stutter? God keeps countering him with solutions until God’s had enough, and then “the anger of the Lord was kindled against Moses.” On the journey, folks keep arguing with Moses, and he laments to God, “What shall I do with this people? They’re ready to stone me!” Don’t folks pick up on that kind of vibe? It doesn’t inspire trust. And then there’s when Moses hikes up Mt. Sinai to receive God’s covenant. He’s gone for weeks without a word. Folks figure he cut and ran, and that’s how you get a golden calf. No wonder they miss Egypt. Never mind that they were beaten and worked to death. Memory’s always a little selective. Who doesn’t lament “the good old days”? But were they really that good? I’m not sure our memories are that trustworthy.
gracewerks 