Jesus – Southwest Conference Blog

Keeping the Faith for Passover

When I was five years of age my family moved to a different neighborhood. For a year we stayed in the house of my paternal grandfather, along with my Great Aunt Olive and Uncle Bruce, who lived in his basement.

For 25 years they had worked as missionaries in India, and with Mahatma Gandhi, to build a hospital and a school. In retirement they were living on a $22 a month pension.

My earliest memories include eating pieces of toast with applesauce for breakfast. A simple prayer accompanied the simplest of meals. My Uncle Bruce was a theologian and mathematician.

Listening to what he had to say, about matters of faith and belief, fed my interest in learning. I came to believe that Jesus is the son of man; because Jesus is the best the world has to offer in terms of love, forgiveness, and grace.

Jews were among the first to recognize Jesus as having messianic characteristics. In the teachings of Jesus, Nicodemus recognized Jesus as worthy of the titles: ‘Son of God,’ ‘King of Kings,’ and ‘Prince of Peace.’

When my father, mother, two younger sisters, and I moved to a house of our own, I discovered the Kampner family. We shared a common driveway. I soon realized I belonged in the Kampner household. On Sunday mornings, for over ten years, I waited for the phone to ring, knowing the call meant I would be going with Mr. Kampner to Irving’s Delicatessen in Pontiac, Michigan to buy New York onion rolls, lox, bagels, and cream cheese.

The phone always rang. The Kampner boys, Stan and Paul, were home from the University of Michigan on weekends. I managed to eat as much as they did.

On other occasions I read at Passover seders. The table was set with a place for Elijah. During my first seder, the doorbell rang, just as I asked: “How is this night different from all other nights?” Mr. Kampner told me to go let Elijah come in. It was the paperboy.

Mr. Kampner was president of his Rotary Club. He took me to their annual father and son banquet. He was president of his synagogue too.

On a Friday evening, I walked to services with Mr. Kampner. As I stood with nine Jewish men, Mr. Kampner turned to me and declared: “Jimmy, tonight you are a man, you make our minyan.”

For six decades the Kampner family was part of my life.

Before Mr. Kampner died, I traveled to see Moe and Rose Kampner in California. I sought out Stan, and reconnected with Paul shortly before he died in Chicago. Stan came to visit me.

For two millennia the messiah has come again, and again, season after season; because traditional services remind believers of the life of Jesus, his death, and resurrection. Such historic rites and rituals can lead to understanding, and community.

I last saw Mrs. Kampner in California on the occasion of her 100th birthday. Upon seeing me, she exclaimed: “Jimmy!” “Who’s Jesus?” I said: “Rose, Jesus was a Jew. Christians believe Christ will come again. Since Jews believe the messiah is yet to come, next time around everybody’s happy.”

When I prepared and served the sacrament of holy communion, I wore a Tallit. The prayer shawl of a rabbi invited me to think about the history and traditions that Jews and Christians have in common.

Sometimes I think about what I learned in religious studies, and what I have experienced in relationships with friends and colleagues of various faiths, traditions, and cultures.

When I do think about such things, I recall the kindness and acceptance I experienced in the home of the Kampner family.

Before I moved to Oro Valley, I officiated for the funeral of Ivan Bootzin, in Medford, Wisconsin. The secretary of a rabbi in Wausau helped to prepare me. I wore Ivan’s kippah.

It was the largest funeral in the history of the city. In addition to standing room only, inside the fourth-generation funeral home, dozens more stood outside, in the dead of winter, listening to the service on a loudspeaker.

Jews were pleased, relieved, and satisfied. Christians found the service to be familiar. I had selected prayers we have in common, from the Gates of Prayer for Shabbat and Weekdays.

So, who is Jesus? Jesus is the one who embodies the spirit of God in Christ. Jesus is the one who invites us to love one another in his name. When I am asked if I believe Jesus is the messiah, I say: “Who else you got?”

What kind of day is Palm Sunday?

by Rev. Paul A. Whitlock

It’s the observance of a tragedy. It’s not a day of simple optimism. We know all about optimism; we’ve tried to be optimistic while the various countries of the world, including our own, position for war. We’ve tried to be optimistic while our government is falling apart and lacks the moral leadership to dig us out of this hole.
Palm Sunday is the observance of a tragedy, but not a day of despair.

Palm Sunday is one bright and glorious moment in human history when we proclaim the courage and the integrity of God in Christ. Palm Sunday isn’t a day when we throw up our hands because Jesus was killed. It’s not a day of pessimism when we condemn the people of the first century, the crowds which later became ugly. It’s not a day when we get morose over the money changers in the temple and declare that nothing ever turns out well.

Palm Sunday, rather, is a day when knowing…

People are fickle and get tired of parades and go home
Religious leaders like things neat and tidy and kill reformers
The humble truth teller is walked upon
People will sell their souls for a handful of silver
Even good friends will sleep while we suffer

Knowing all of this, Jesus still came riding into town.

Palm Sunday is a bright and glorious day when love turned into courage and integrity and became a small parade headed for the gallows. It’s the day that Jesus the Christ, knowing the facts of life – the truth about our person, and the truth of what we do when we get together – knowing all this Jesus loving does what he is called to do, and does it without bitter and ill feeling towards us. It’s so tragic that it had to come to this. It’s so tragic that God had to do that for us.

Palm Sunday is a tragedy, but a tragedy worth celebrating.

photo credit: Rev. Paul A. Whitlock, Church of the Palms UCC

All Shall Be Well: “While We Are Waiting, Come”

Rev. Deb Beloved Church

“While we are waiting, come; while we are waiting, come.
Jesus, our Lord, Emmanuel, while we are waiting, come.”

“With power and glory, come; with power and glory, come.
Jesus, our Lord, Emmanuel, while we are waiting, come.”

“Come, Savior, quickly come; come, Savior, quickly come.
Jesus, our Lord, Emmanuel, while we are waiting, come.”

These are the lyrics of an Advent hymn (entitled, appropriately, “While We Are Waiting, Come”) that we’ve been singing at White Rock Presbyterian Church, during these weeks of Advent, as a prayer before the scripture lessons for the day are read and the sermon, preached. [Click here to hear it sung by the Morgan State University Choir.]

It seems to encapsulate a lovely prayer for Advent:

Come to us, Lord Jesus, while we are waiting for the celebration of your birth. Come with power and glory and be with us. Come quickly, Lord Jesus, and save us. Amen!

During Advent, it is my prayer that God will indeed come to us while we are waiting–waiting during this holy season for the God who has already come, to come to us yet again…waiting in stolen moments of stillness and longing, alone and with one another, for glimpses of healing and wholeness…waiting in the midst of this world so busy and angry and loud and hurting, for whispers of peace and shimmers of Light…

While we are waiting, Lord Jesus, come…

During Advent, it is my prayer that God will indeed come to us with power and glory–power that stirs hope and courage within us…glory that moves us to awe and wonder…power and glory that wake us from our mindless stumbling through our lives to alertness and awakeness…glory and power that call us to be on the lookout for prophetic truth and deep beauty and redeeming love…

While we are waiting, Lord Jesus, come…

During Advent, it is my prayer that God will indeed come to us quickly–that God will save us from our comfort with complacency–quickly! That God will save us from our familiar temptations–quickly! That God will save us from our hardness of heart and our secret smugness and superiority–quickly! That God will save us from our blindness (whether chosen or unconsidered) to the Reality of all that is Holy, all around us, and within all of us–quickly.

While we are waiting, Lord Jesus, come…

Come to us, Lord Jesus, while we are waiting for the celebration of your birth. Come with power and glory and be with us. Come quickly, Lord Jesus, and save us. Amen!

It’s a lovely prayer for Advent for us who are people of faith.

Indeed, it seems a prayer of Love for all seasons, and for all people.

May the witness of Jesus the Christ, in whom we see what it can be to live and love, teach and touch, laugh and cry, bless and curse, heal and pray, fully embodying the Divine Love that is God–call us all to greater courage, greater truth, greater wholeness, and greater Love, in our lives and in our world. It is so desperately needed.

Merry Christmas!

And amen.

That Was Me

The Church of the Palms used the following litany, written by Rev. Max Klinkenborg, at the dedication of the “Homeless Jesus” sculpture on Saturday, November 18, 2023.

Jesus said, ”I’m telling the solemn truth; whenever you did one of these things to someone overlooked or ignored, that was me – you did it unto me.” Matthew 25:40

Leader: Once I saw a man eating from a buffet of leftovers in a dumpster.

All: That was me!

Leader: Once I smelled the urine soaked clothes of an old women wearing two coats on a city bus.

All: That was me!

Leader: Once I saw a frozen body covered in snow with no coat, hat, shoes or gloves.

All: That was me!

Leader: Once I saw a man fall to the street; his shoes were stolen before he could get up.

All: That was me!

Leader: Once I heard the screams of a man set on fire in a dumpster for stealing drugs.

All: That was Me!

Leader: Once I felt the despair of a man turned away on a cold night from an overcrowded shelter.

All: That was Me.

Leader: Once I saw a woman on a bike pulling two carriers filled with her earthly possession.

All: That was Me.

Leader: Once I heard a person arguing with themself at full volume as they pushed a grocery cart.

All: That was Me.

Leader: Once I gagged at an infected blister under a blood soaked sock on the sole of a woman’s foot.

All: That was Me!

Leader: Once I wept as I saw a boy and his sister eating ketchup on crackers, alone in a restaurant.

All: That was me!

Leader: Once I saw three adults, four children and a dog sleeping in a minivan.

All: That was Me!

Leader: Once I heard a shivering man in a wheel chair, stuck in snow, calling to no avail for help.

All: That was Me!

Leader: Once I saw a man asleep on a park bench covered by newspaper.

All: That was Me!

Leader: Once I smelled burning flesh when a woman fell on a steel grate in August and no one helped her get up.

All: That was Me!

Leader: Once I sent Christmas cards to a woman’s prison; a woman thanked me later for her only card or gift.

All: That was Me!

Leader: Once I heard a bone-rattling cough from a pile of rags holding a blood soaked rag to her mouth.

All: That was Me!

Think about what you believe. Then see if you believe what you think.

by Rev. James Briney

I like what Jesus did. He noticed what was going on for others, did what he could and moved on. Jesus did what he did as a matter of faith. He lived for what he believed and he died for what he believed. But his last words indicate that he did not know if it was worth it: “My God why have you forsaken me.” Jesus understood that when you know the right thing to do, but are not certain of the outcome, do it anyway. That’s all any of us can do.

A challenge of ministry is the futility of it all. If it weren’t for so darn many flawed human beings, clergy would be out of business. More congregations would be extinct and forming community would be left to amateurs. Professionally—or not—the key is to minister. Show up. Be present. Be in the practice of ministry, not the ministerial business.

The major religions of the world have one thing in common. No one knows anything. Religious practices are based on faith and belief, not proof and knowledge. We all are just trying to figure out where we come from, why we are here, and where we are going. The best we can do is employ words and symbols to express such concerns.

I like who Jesus was, and is. He still is, and will continue to be, for as long as he is remembered, thought about, and talked about. Jesus was anointed as the messiah by those who recognized him as the King of Kings, the Prince of Peace, the Lord of Lords, and the Son of God; not the Caesars, who claimed those titles for themselves.

When Jesus was confronted by the law-givers, who were out to do him in, he did not say he was the ‘only’ way to be in relationship with God. Jesus said: “I am the way.” I take that to mean, I am the way to be. Be the way I am.

Jesus is not some sort of magic man who did things we can’t do. He was not being modest when he said: “You will do greater things than I.” Jesus understood, hoped for, and trusted that every person is capable of being and becoming the soul that God intends for them to be.

It is tempting to give up on humanity, or to blame God in the context of overwhelming tragedies, horrors, and sorrows. It is seductive to settle for a life of distractions that prevent us from thinking about that which matters most.

I am a person of faith. I believe there is more to life than life itself, perhaps experienced in the afterlife as manifestations of consciousness and energy. I once told an atheist who ridiculed my faith, to try to be gracious should he meet God face to face.

God has given all of Creation everything we need. Everything in this world that is wrong, unfair, hostile, and unjust is on us. Trust the Spirit that is Holy within you. All that you experience and all that you do is part of the Eternal.

There is no my god, your god, or our god. There is one God, by a variety of names. The Church is a flawed institution, not the Kingdom of God. Individuals that understand the basics, fundamentals, and particulars of their own faith—and the faith of others—give me some hope.

It’s scary to contemplate our fate and to wonder where we came from, why we are here and where we are going. But do it anyway. When you are satisfied that you have all the answers start over. Think about what you believe. Then see if you believe what you think.

Over 25 years of ordained ministry the Reverend James Briney served congregations in Indiana, Michigan, Wisconsin, and Arizona. Early on, Jim earned degrees in Philosophy and Theology. He is retired and living in Oro Valley. (Photo by: Lou Waters.)

The Unexpected Parade

by Rev. Lynne Hinton

In an essay entitled “In Today, Already Walks Tomorrow,” Joseph Hankins recalls a Peanuts cartoon from years ago. In the first panel Charlie Brown says to Linus, “I learned something in school today. I signed up for folk guitar, computer programming, art, and a music appreciation class.” He continues, “I got spelling, history, arithmetic, and two study periods.” “So, what did you learn?” Linus asks. And Charlie Brown replies, “I learned that what you sign up for and what you get are two different things.” (Vital Speeches of the Day, October, 1997.)

If you’ve lived long enough, you totally understand what Charlie Brown is saying. One author wrote, “If you want to hear God laugh, go ahead and tell your plans.” Life rarely turns out like we expect. And perhaps no event teaches us this lesson more clearly than the event of Palm Sunday.

From the gospels we learn that Jesus and his followers come into Jerusalem and there is quite a show. For all reasonable purposes, it certainly seems like a parade and it seems like a political parade because of the waving of palms, the symbol of Jewish independence, waved for national heroes and because of what they say, at least in Mark’s version. They shout Hosanna, the nearest translation in English being, “God save the king!” The people participating in this parade, people marching and singing and shouting and waving palms, have a certain expectation of what this event means. Jesus is the new king of Israel and the days of oppression under Rome are coming to an end. Jesus is taking them to a revolution, to freedom from occupation. Jesus is finally setting them free. That’s what they expect. The parade people, maybe the disciples, maybe everyone, expect that Jesus is getting ready to change everything. And on that mark, they are right, but their expectations of how Jesus was going to do that were however, completely off the mark.

There is a lot about life that turns out that way, don’t you think? There are a lot of things we begin with that turn out to be completely different in the end. We get married and expect that we will always be in love with that person. We expect that we will be together until death do us part. And then, well, marriage isn’t quite what we expected and we find ourselves separated and then divorced. We have children, raise them up expecting them to share our values, want the same things in life that we do, and then we discover that our children are nothing like we expected. We go to college, pick a major, and expect that we will find careers that suit us, that fit who we are, and that we will stay in the same place with the same company forever. And well, all of us know how that turns out. We put our money in 401K’s. We invest in secure places. We expect that we can retire and live without too much discomfort and oh, haven’t we discovered that our expectations didn’t work out quite as we had thought? We expect that we will be ready for the deaths of loved ones and we aren’t. We expect that our health will hold up and it doesn’t. We expect that our church will always be there and we expect that nations will be moral. So often, none of these things are true. But the important part of this story is that Jesus shows up. Even when he must understand the peoples’ presence, his disciples’ expectations and friends’ dreams are not in line with what is about to happen. Still he shows up, with humility and wisdom. And love.

John Vannorsdall wrote: “Palm Sunday is not a day when we throw up our hands because Jesus was killed. It’s not a day of pessimism when we condemn the people who went home to supper, the crowds which later became ugly. It’s not a day when we get morose over the money changers in the temple and declare that nothing ever turns out well, that even God’s small parade was a fiasco. Palm Sunday, rather, is a day when we say, knowing all of this, knowing that people are fickle, get tired of parades and go home, knowing that religious leaders like things neat and tidy and kill reformers, knowing that the humble truth teller is walked upon, knowing that people will sell their souls for a handful of silver, knowing that even good friends will sleep when we suffer, it’s a day when knowing all this, Jesus came riding.”

The truth in Palm Sunday is that the event that started in a parade to celebrate Jesus, ended in a mob gathering to kill Jesus. And the lesson to be learned is that nothing ever really turns out as we expected. That doesn’t, however, mean that we have been forsaken by God. It doesn’t mean we are being punished or abandoned. It means that even when the parade doesn’t take you where you want to go, there is still the opportunity to grow in your faith, and share in the work of grace you have been called to do. Even as our expectations are not fulfilled, God is still present, active, and involved in our lives.

Pick Up Your Mat and Walk (Part 2!)

by Rev. Deb Worley

Jesus said to him, “Stand up, take your mat and walk.” At once the man was made well, and he took up his mat and began to walk. (John 5:8-9, CEB)

For those of you who were here last Sunday, you may be wondering if I forgot to change the Gospel passage for today, and accidentally read the same passage as last week! Whoops! That’s embarrassing!!

Except, I didn’t forget to change the Gospel passage. I chose to stick with this passage for another week. When I went home last Sunday, after worship and then the “God Sightings” discussion, I felt like there was more to consider, more that needed to be said. Which is true, of course, with every scripture passage, always! There’s never a time when everything has been said that needs to be said about any one scripture passage. It’s the Living Word. There’s always more to say…because God is still speaking.

But with this passage in particular, at this particular time, I felt the need to have another go. So…here we go!

Because not all of you were here last week, and because this past week has been…well, it’s been quite a week…I’m going to start with a very quick review of the gist of last week’s sermon. (Part 1)

Those of you who were here will likely remember the story I began with, about growing up on a farm in upstate NY, and a specific memory of my dad asking my then-teenaged brother, one wintry day, if he’d like to help him bring in some wood for the wood stove, and my brother saying, “Umm, no,” and my dad getting mad and my mom telling my dad that if he wanted my brother to help him, then to just tell him to help him, don’t ask him! Remember??

Well, as you can see and have heard, all three of those family members are here this morning! And all three of them will confirm the veracity of that story after the service, if anyone was thinking I made it up…

But then I shifted from the question my dad asked my brother, to the question Jesus asked the man in today’s passage: “Do you want to get well?”

And I pointed to how the man didn’t respond with yes or no, but with some of the reasons he hadn’t gotten well up to that point, some of the reasons he was still sick after thirty-eight years of sitting by the side of the pool…

And I imagined some of what the man might have been feeling: hopelessness, discouragement, despair. I imagined that he might have felt like being well would take more courage than he had, that doing things differently than he had done them for his whole life would take more strength and commitment than he had, that stepping into a new way of living would be hard and uncomfortable and scary–even if that way of living led from sickness and a diminished self to healing and wholeness–and that changing, even for the better, would take more patience and practice than he thought he could find.

And I imagined how Jesus might have responded, from his heart to the man’s heart, taking into account his fears and his despair, his excuses and his stuck-ness, his reluctance to say, “Yes! I want to be well!”… And I wondered if we, too, might need to hear that response, because we, too, can be reluctant to commit to being made well; we, too, aren’t always sure that we have the courage and strength we need to be made whole; we, too, can doubt that healing is worth the hard work and discomfort and commitment that are required…

And just quickly, here’s what I suggested Jesus might have communicated to the man by the side of the pool in his hopelessness, and what he might also be communicating to us in our own stuckness:

Yes, it will be hard to be well. Harder than it has been to be sick.

Yes, it will require courage. Remaining stuck is easy.

Yes, it will require strength. It takes no effort to keep doing what you’ve always done.

Yes, it will require patience and commitment and practice. I will get you started; you will have to keep choosing to be well. Day after day, hour after hour, moment by moment.

Yes, it will be uncomfortable and unfamiliar and scary.

And it will be hard! Or did I mention that already??

Get up. Pick up your mat and walk.

Stop watching others participate in the world around you, and step more fully into living yourself. Live life more deeply and be who God created you to be more fully.

Get up. Pick up your mat and walk.

What you’ve been doing all these years that’s comfortable? Do less of that. Leave that behind.

What you’re considering doing right now that feels uncomfortable? Do more of that. Walk toward that.

Those thoughts of “It’s too hard. I’m scared. It doesn’t feel good!”? Acknowledge them, name them, say them out loud. And let go of them. They are not going to make you well.

Get up. Pick up your mat and walk.

Walk forward. One foot in front of the other. One step at a time.

Walk toward healing. Toward wellness. Toward being whole.

And step into Life.

Get up. Pick up your mat and walk.

So, a lot of that was me taking literary license. Imagining what might have been going on in the man, and, yes, in Jesus. Imagining what it might have been like for someone who had been sick, who had been incapacitated, who had been diminished in his self, in some way, for 38 years, most of his life–and at that point to be offered healing… And I imagined what that healing might have looked like, what that healing would feel like, what, really, it was that Jesus was offering.

And we are told, after Jesus said to him, “Stand up, take your mat and walk,” that “At once the man was made well, and he took up his mat and began to walk.” (Jn. 5:8-9)

And again, I can’t help but wonder!! Did it really happen like that? Was the man completely healed, once and for all? Able to walk with confidence and strength, without a single stumble or misstep, without needing to rest? Simply getting up and stepping into this new way of being, with no looking back?

“Stand up,” Jesus told him. “Take your mat and walk.” And “At once the man was made well, and he took up his mat and began to walk.”

I wonder…because in our lives and in our world, we need healing. Desperately. In our lives and in our world, we need to be made well. There’s so much pain, so much brokenness, so much suffering, so much chaos, so much darkness…

We need healing, so that as people of faith we can stand up.

We need healing, so that as people of faith we can stand up and begin to walk.

We need healing, so that as people of faith we can stand up and speak up.

We need healing, so that as people of faith we can stand up and be light in the darkness.

We need healing, so that as people of faith we can stand up and fight for justice.

And, we need courage. And strength. And commitment. And patience. And practice. Because while maybe the man in today’s passage was completely healed, once and for all, never to stumble again, my experience has generally been otherwise, and I suspect yours has been, too.

We can say yes to healing and stand up–with God’s help–and begin to walk toward healing–with God’s help–with courage and strength and commitment–with God’s help–and we still stumble. We still take missteps, maybe even falling flat on our faces. We still need to rest from time to time.

But then we can say yes to healing again–with God’s help. And we can stand up again–with God’s help. And we can begin to speak up, with courage and strength and commitment–with God’s help! And then we stumble and misstep and fall and need to rest. Again.

And then we can say yes to healing again–are you seeing the pattern??–and stand up again, and be light in the darkness and fight for justice–all with God’s help.

All, and always, with God’s help.

With God’s help, always.

With God’s presence, always.

With God’s power, always…

Hear these words once more, from God’s heart to ours, knowing that as God reaches out to us and offers healing and wholeness, God knows our fears and our despair and the comfort we find in our familiar stuckness. And God continues to call us to new life:

Yes, it will be hard to be well. Harder than it has been to be sick.

Yes, it will require courage. Remaining stuck is easy.

Yes, it will require strength. It takes no effort to keep doing what you’ve always done.

Yes, it will require patience and commitment and practice. I will get you started, and will be with you; you will have to keep choosing to be well. Day after day, hour after hour, moment by moment. Again and again and again.

Yes, it will be uncomfortable and unfamiliar and scary.

And it will be hard! Or did I mention that already??

All of that is true. And I am here, I am with you, and I want you to be well!

Get up. Pick up your mat and walk.

And this morning, hear these additional words:

Get up and walk–and when you stumble, which you will, reach out for me and steady yourself, and keep going. Get up and walk–and when you take a misstep, which you will, look for me and reorient yourself, and keep going. Get up and walk–and when you fall flat on your face, which you will, let me help you up and brush you off, so you can take a breath, and keep going. Get up and walk–and when you need to rest, which you will, rest. Find the sacred in your rest. And when you’ve rested, keep going.

Get up. Pick up your mat and walk.

And know that I am with you, always.

May each of you, and me, and all of us, and our world, find the healing we so desperately need, the healing God offers us in Jesus Christ.

Amen.

Good Enough Faith Keeps Coming Back

by Southwest Conference Minister, Rev. Dr. Bill Lyons, as preached at Scottsdale Congregational UCC on Easter Sunday, April 17, 2022

Easter presents real challenges. It has from the very beginning.

How exactly were the troops going to explain the disappeared body on their watch? Are they really going to tell their superiors: there was suddenly a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow.

How were the women going to move the stone? And when they found the tomb opened already, imagine their shock and agony and fear!

Mary Magdalene didn’t wait for explanations. John tells us “she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Resurrection didn’t even enter Mary’s mind when she first visited the open tomb. The other women went inside and were perplexed. Messengers – one or two, no one quite remembered – on the stone or inside the vault, that got mixed up too – it’s tricky – but everyone agrees – messengers in dazzling clothes appeared out of nowhere and said, “Don’t be afraid. I know why you are here. The one you watched die three days ago is alive and He told you this would happen. Remember his words? By the way, he’s heading to Galilee and you can see him there.”

That last line in the angels’ message sounds like a set up. Go to Galilee?! Where Herod ruled and John the Baptizer lost his head?! Jesus’s followers had been in hiding for the last three days. They had plenty of examples of what Roman troops did to the friends of people who had been crucified. And now with the body missing, who do you think the troops identified as ‘people of interest’ in connection with all of this? That’s more than tricky!

Two disciples took the risk and ventured out – back to the cemetery. One went inside; one didn’t. No telling who was in there waiting for them. No angels this time, just a pile of grave wrappings and a shroud folded neatly on the niche where Jesus’s body should have been. Well, part of the women’s story was accurate, anyway. I wonder if they looked at Mary who stood outside the tomb and thought. “Did you women stage this? How did you manage it? Where did you put the body? Do you realize what will happen if the troops find out?!”

Nobody believed the women. The first resurrection sermon had no takers. Talk about a problem with Easter!

Mary stayed at the tomb after everyone else left. It’s the last place she’d see her Lord. She was looking for answers. She was looking for Jesus, albeit a dead Jesus. When she found him she couldn’t see him even when the living Jesus, a man she’d spent years following and living in community with, stood right in front of her talking. Her faith wasn’t ready for that. But she’d come back. And when Jesus said her name, she believed!

It took Mary two visits to accept the living Christ. It’s not how many visits it took that mattered. What’s important is that she came back, kept looking, kept listening.

It’s not always in church that we find ourselves re-visiting his tomb or that we hear Jesus say our name.

Ambulance attendants wheeled him into room 14 – the resuscitation suite. He had been found in a doorway of a downtown building unresponsive. The clinical signs told us he had been dead for quite some time. Still, the ER team did everything possible. Then the moment came to stop the effort, and a time of death was pronounced by the attending physician.

An hour or so later the deceased man’s family members and friends began arriving at the hospital and I was called to meet them. They cried and held each other and began to pray and to sing. Their pastor arrived and anointed the body. Then she turned to me and said in broken English, “You tell doctor shock him and he will live now.”

In the break room the attending physician looked at me with wide eyes. “WOW! Chaplain, if they can bring him back with prayer, I’ll start going to church.”

“Doc, I go to church because I know one man God brought back after three days. But right now, I need you to come in and explain to his family that this man has already been shocked and is gone. I’ll take it from there.”

The doctor shook his head. He was well aware that only doctors were permitted to share medical information with families. So, he explained the reality of the team’s resuscitation efforts and the certainty of biological death compassionately and succinctly. The pastor looked right at him and said, “We prayed. You shock him and he will live now.”

Usually when docs finished that kind of conversation, they left the room and let the support team facilitate a grieving process. But this time the doc stepped back, leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, and was as attentive as every family member there. I offered my sincere respect and appreciation for the family and the pastor’s faith in a God who could raise the dead. I too believed in that God. I knew in the end everyone who died trusting Jesus will live again. And I also knew that sometimes, as possible as a resurrection is, God takes a person to live where God is. Silence. Startlingly the pastor responded with jubílense, “¡Alabado sea Dios, se ha ido a casa!” “Praise God, he’s gone home!” and she began to pray.

I heard his pager go off during the prayer, and when I looked up the doc was gone. He found me later and said he didn’t mean to be rude and walk out in the middle of a prayer. I said to him, “What I noticed was this time you stayed for the spiritual explanation of your patient dying.” He looked at me and smiled. “You noticed that, did you.” And then one of our pagers went off…

I wonder, how many trips to Jesus’s tomb we make over time? How have your expectations or questions about what you’ll find there changed since your last visit? Maybe you decided to visit Jesus’s empty tomb this morning wondering. “How?!” Or maybe you’re at the empty tomb again not having thought much about what you’d find – an obstacle or an opening, the expected or a surprise.

Maybe the resurrection seems “like an idle tale” – dazzling extraterrestrials, a three-days-dead corpse walking and talking – the same way the testimony of the women fell on the ears of the disciples.

Maybe you’ve been trying to “remember what he told you,” a faith from childhood, lessons from catechism, or a loved one’s witness.

Perhaps the angelic questions resonate with you. “Why are you looking for the living among the dead?” “Who are you looking for?” [pause] “Who are you looking for?”

Maybe you’re waiting for an invitation to “come and see,” to take a closer look at this place where Jesus is supposed to be found.

Perchance, like Peter,– you’ve seen and still aren’t ready to step in. Or maybe like John – you believe but just aren’t sure how to explain it all.

Or like Mary, you’ve been here before. You’re back because wondering why Jesus isn’t where you thought he’d be, asking questions, making bargains.

It’s even possible all of this leaves you at a loss for words and afraid.

It’s equally possible you heard Jesus say your name once, and you just want to hear it again.

Maybe Easter, is, for you, a day to say, “Alleluia! I’ve seen the Lord!!

Whatever brings you to the empty tomb this time, wherever you find yourself in the story, what matters is you are here! That’s good enough!! Surely there’s room for all of us to grow in our faith. Easter is for celebrating that whatever faith we have in the living Jesus, that’s good enough. Because whatever else we aren’t sure of in our faith, we can be certain of this: Jesus is alive enough to have brought you back. How much more alive does he need to be? Easter faith is good enough when it keeps us coming back. Christ is risen!

He is risen indeed!!

Checklist

by Rev. Deb Worley

“I Will Light Candles This Christmas”
By Howard Thurman

I will light candles this Christmas;
Candles of joy despite all sadness,
Candles of hope where despair keeps watch,
Candles of courage for fears ever present,
Candles of peace for tempest-tossed days,
Candles of grace to ease heavy burdens,
Candles of love to inspire all my living,
Candles that will burn all the year long.

At this time of year, we talk of Santa’s checklist:
Naughty or nice?

But this poem generates a different checklist in my mind, a 2020 [and 2021!] checklist:

Sadness? Check.
Despair? Check.
Fears ever present? Check.
Tempest-tossed days and heavy burdens?
Check and, sadly, check.

What a [couple of] years this has been….A year of struggle, a year of chaos, a year of darkness.

In the midst of all of this darkness, the world needs light more than ever. The world needs your light, and my light; the world needs our light. When my light is flickering, perhaps yours can make mine stronger [as it most certainly has!]; when your light grows weak, maybe the light of another can give yours new life. Our world needs light that is shared, so that the light might be multiplied…

Our world needs us to light Thurman’s candles this Christmas, so that we might step into this season and beyond with yet another checklist:

Joy? Check!
Hope? Check!
Courage? Check!
Peace and grace and love?
Check, check, and yes, check!

In this season of darkness, we need light. We need the Light that shines in the darkness and was not overcome. We need the Light of Christ. O Come, O Come, Emmanuel!

Peace be with us all in this holy season.

Deb