Sheep Poem in 4 parts

             Poetry is weird. 

            Poetry is a kind of truthful seeing, put into words. 
The poet takes metaphors and analogies and images,
and they gather together, 
and are seen and said, 
in just such a way that a truer truth crystalizes, 
because these images were collected and connected.

 

            The 23^rd Psalm is a braiding of three thought threads
—Sheep, 
Pilgrimage to Jerusalem, 
and Life in God, 
crystalized together and packed so tightly by the religious imaginations of both Jews and Christians down through the centuries
that this Psalm gathers meaning upon meaning into it, 
like a cartoon snowball rolling down a hill.

            So today, we’re going to take a little time to carefully hear the expanding meaning of this most celebrated of Psalms.

Prayer

 

            Imagine the life of a sheep who is well cared for by its shepherd.

            Yes, you are vulnerable to a variety of dangers and prone to wander. 
But the shepherd’s voice calls you in to the flock. 
He leads you through peril, 
provides an abundance of green grass for you, 
and he ensures that you have a secure sheepfold 
in which to live out all of your days. 

 

            And something about that idea, shakes loose another image. 
Aren’t those pilgrims traveling to Mount Zion, 
to the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, 
aren’t they like a flock.

            In their dessert travels, 
they seek oasis and wadi, 
green pasture and potable water. 
A guide, 
or at least guiding words from those who’ve made the journey before them, 
are crucial, 
for there are many dangers 
on the steep and windy road from Jericho to Jerusalem.

            Along the way, 
and still more once they arrive in Jerusalem, 
they hope for hospitality, 
for a safe home to stay in, 
for cool and cleansing oil, 
a place to decamp before the main event, 
the ultimate destination
—the temple where God’s glory resides, 
visiting the home of God.

 

            Pilgrimage though, that thought pushes the imagination further still, 
this movement to the center of Holiness, 
is it not also a description of Life in God?

            Our existence itself, 
being thrown into reality, 
is from God, 
and God continually provides for us our whole life long
—all that is necessary and nourishing, 
a good gift.

            In the good times, 
God is there to be thanked, 
and serves as a solid rock on which to stand, 
when we need to be upheld, 
and serves as a bed upon which to rest and recuperate 
in the rough patches.

            God, you have broad shoulders, 
they can bear our every disappointment, anger, and bitterness; 
Lord, your shoulder is a shoulder to cry upon 
and draw courage from as well; 
You are with us in the shadow of death and threat of evil.

            In you, we find sustenance and healing, 
hospitality and invitation; 
you love us so O God.

            We are restless until we rest in You, 
the promised end of the journey, 
our pilgrimage, is the embrace of God.

            Jesus is our Shepherd
—the Good Shepherd.

            When we hear the Gospel, learn the faith, 
prepare for Baptism
—that is green pasture for us.

            When the physical sign of word and water meet you in worship, 
you are being called by name like Mary at the Resurrection, 
is that not the still waters we yearn for?

            The Holy Spirit restores your soul, 
and is sealed upon your brow with oil and promise.

            Our lives lived as Kingdom people, 
are the right pathways on this pilgrimage, 
guided and guarded.

            Christ’s voice calling us onward, 
is the comfort of his rod and his staff, 
He is before us
for he goes on ahead of us to prepare a place for us, 
he gives us an example and empowers us 
to follow his loving call to be disciples.

            Holy communion is the table he prepared for us 
at the last supper, 
a thankful meal for us
—abundant life
—a rich feast.

            This life of belonging
—we need each other dear church
—the community of the Church; 
among us, is found the goodness and mercy of God that lasts a lifetime.

An Easter Sunrise Service riff on the traditional "Paschal Homily"

All you Lovers of God, enjoy this Easter Celebration, this delightful festival of God’s love.

All you wearied from your Lenten spiritual practices and journey, now is your reward.

All you grateful and tired servants, rejoice and enter into Christ’s joy.

All you crucified ones, martyrs, and the dead, rest and reside in the Resurrection.

All you vigil holders and early risers, Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia.

All of you, 
You who are eager to run the race—look the Way of Jesus is ever before you!

Believers still puzzling over what you have found—is this not all our lot in life, faith seeking understanding?

Weeping Ones troubled by blunt question marks—take them as best you can and know he is present with you in your grief.

Christ seekers yearning to say, “I have seen the Lord!”—look for here is among us, where two or three gather, Christ is present.

All of you!

Christ is risen. (Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia.)

 

         When Kingdoms rage and tyrants stomp blood stained feet—do not forget that our Ascended Lord and the Reign of God has been revealed.

         When hunger rumbles, join his joyful feast.

         When our life’s mistakes make us o’ so heavy, weep not, for forgiveness has dawned from the tomb.

         When friends die too young, when heartbreak hangs heavy upon us, when the loneliness of old age and death overshadows… be not afraid, for by joining us in death, the Savor has set us free.

         Hades swallowed him up, he went down deep into death, and yet it was death who was bound.

         The Grave encountered Jesus Christ and came up short. See, the bitterness of death bites it’s teeth, for death is abolished, mocked, death is slain and the rule of death is overthrown.

         See, it sought a human life, and found God. It accepted earth, but met heaven. It received a visible thing, and fell for the invisible.

         Say now: “O death, where is thy sting? O hades, where is thy victory?”

Christ is risen, and thou art cast down.

Christ is risen, and the demons are fallen.

Christ is risen, and the angels rejoice.

Christ is risen, and life flourisheth.

Christ is risen, and there is none dead in the tombs.

For Christ, being risen from the dead, is become the first-fruits of them that have fallen asleep. To Him be glory and dominion unto the ages of ages. Christ is risen. (Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia.)

Mary Magdalene meets her risen Lord.

          Christ is Risen, 

He is Risen indeed, Alleluia!

         Throughout the Season of Lent we’ve been preparing for this! 
Reading how six ordinary people
—Nichodemus, 
the Samaritan Woman, 
the Man Born Blind, 
and Martha, Mary, and Lazarus
—had their ordinary lives transformed into extraordinary lives
Because they encountered Jesus Christ
—they experienced God in sandals
—the Creator in the flesh ministering to them and to their needs.

 

         And today is the culmination of these stories by John: 
Mary Magdalene meets her risen Lord.

Prayer

 

         Mary was there at the cross, 
with the other women. 
She had witnessed 
his arrest, 
beating, 
humiliation, 
and execution. 
Now, alone and in the dark…
—remember John has a thing about lighting…

(Nick meets Jesus at night, 
the Samaritan Woman at high noon, 
the Man Born Blind has his night turned to day, 
and Jesus calls Lazarus out of an oh so dark tomb)

—In John’s gospel exposure to the Sun in the sky 
indicates an ongoing relationship with the Son of God…

         So Mary, assuming death has put an end to 
her relationship with Jesus, 
goes alone in darkness to the tomb, 
and finds the tomb not as they left it… 

 

         Have you ever had an awful week, 
and then, when you finally think it’s at least done, 
had one more thing piled atop it?

         That’s where Mary is
—The stone’s removal is not initially received as good news, 
but instead one last indignity, 
one more thing in a hellish week…

         “Oh Lord! Now we’ve got to find the body!”

         

         After the strange footrace between Peter and… 
the beloved Disciple, (probably Lazarus)
Mary finds herself alone again.

         She peers into the darkness of the tomb, 
yet another reminder that following Jesus seems to be a dead end.

         She peers in, and is surprised by two angels asking about her tears.

         “Why am I crying? 
My beloved teacher was executed 
and now I have to find the body!”

 

         And then, she turns around, 
and is asked again about her tears… 
and this man, 
perhaps the gardener, 
asks, 
“For whom are you looking?”

-What would soothe your soul?
-Right the wrongs of this world? 
-Whose presence would make God fully present for you?

         But she goes to the immediate problem… 
as most of us would…
“I need my Lord’s body, 
even if I have to drag it back here myself!”

         Then, the one she seeks, the one she needs, 
says her name:

         “Mary!”

         “Rabbouni!” she replies.

 

         She wants to hold onto him a little longer, 
so he won’t leave her again… 
and thank God, he’ll never leave her, 
he’ll always abide with her 
(and with us)
—that’s the promise of John’s gospel!
He abides with us 
as God abides with him!

 

         However, 
the story has to continue, 
there is more to come, 
the fullness of the resurrection, 
Jesus’ Lordship over a NEW Creation 
is already and not yet a tangible, experienced reality.
The Good Gardner is still planting a New Creation!

 

         The Lord
The One to whom Angels Minister
The Teacher
Our Ascendant Lord
The connection point with God
is establishing for us all an intimate relationship with 
His Father and our Father, 
his God and our God…

         Abiding in the extraordinary Love of God.

 

         It’s already here! 
Look at Mary. 

         She began warning the disciples that the body was taken, 
Now, at first light, 
she’s been commissioned by Christ to be the Apostle to the Apostles, 
announcing Jesus’ ascension, 
his enthronement as Lord of all… 
more than that, 
she is able to say, “I have seen the Lord!”

 

         I pray that we too, in the midst of our shouts and songs of Alleluia… 
and in our ordinary lives, 
will encounter the Love of God found in the Resurrected Lord
—Jesus Christ.

         I pray that like Nichodemus 
we may come to honor the one in whom we encounter eternity.

         Like the Samaritan Woman, 
may we experience the abundant life that is found in Jesus.

         When we’re driven outside the gates of goodness, 
may we, like the man born blind, be found by Jesus.

         Like Lazarus and his family, 
may service, joy, and life all be part of our faith.

         May we be able to say, 
as Mary said, “I have seen the Lord!”

Amen and Alleluia!

“Why do we tell these stories?”

            “Why is this night different from every other night?” The youngest guest at the Passover meal asks, reciting then the symbolic changes found in the meal

—flat bread because they had to get out of Egypt quickly, 
bitter herbs because slavery was bitter, 
greenery and Charioset to symbolize the gratitude and sweetness of escape, 
a meal seated—because a free people get to sit at meal…

            These questions, and symbols consumed, exist so that the story of God breaking the Jews out of slavery and bringing them into freedom 
might be passed on generation to generation.

            And tonight, on Maundy Thursday, our closest analogy to Passover
—it is worth ruminating on a similar question: “Why do we tell these stories?”

Prayer

 

“Why do we tell these stories?”

            We could tell the story of Pharaoh, 
the story told by magnificent monuments made with slave labor that still overshadow us to this very day. 
We could tell the many stories of slave revolts put down, 
Spartacus, Vesey, and everyone in between. 
Those are stories that are fairly common, 
of might making right, 
the status quo, even when stifling and oppressive, staying put…

            But we tell the story of a people’s hurried hustle out of Egypt. 
God siding with slaves, 
the transformation of tears into sweet gratitude, 
backs straight and heads held high, 
on the other side of the Red Sea, a people forming, 
formed by the story of God’s goodness to them. 
A story’s retelling generation to generation as significant as any monument. 
God’s judgement and release retold among families forever.

 

“Why do we tell these stories?”

            We could tell the story of King Herod or Governor Pilate at table in one palace or another. 
We could recite stories of leaders exalting themselves to vainglorious heights
—that’s not uncommon, is it? 
Or stories about the banishment of betrayers 
and how ruptures in relationship so often result in escalating, tit for tat, hatred!

            But we tell the story of the Teacher learning from Mary and Martha
—service & foot washing the example of love that endures, 
sitting at table with Lazarus who was dead but now is alive. 
A last meal that includes too, 
Peter who will deny him 
and Judas who will betray him. 
Even in such company, the great command 
experienced in washing and in meal
is “Love One Another!”

 

“Why do we tell these stories?”

            We could tell the story of the closed table of Corinth. 
How their religious practice degenerated into hypocrisy, 
how that Christian community in Corinth was so wed to their culture 
that they were using their new religion to reinforce hierarchies of wealth and education, 
an upstairs/downstairs type of faith where the majority were left humiliated and hungry. 
This too is a common story, is it not? 
A pattern that even good intentioned religious communities can fall into, 
chaplains of the surrounding culture 
and exclusive cliques.

            But we tell the corrective story Paul tells to the Corinthians; 
Jesus’ last supper is one different than cultural expectations
—in fact it overturns them, even as it gets him killed. 
Every time we recite and receive this meal, his life-giving service becomes the organizing principle of our life together.

 

“Why do we tell these stories?”

            We could tell all kinds of awful stories, 
read our world wrong, 
reinforce and justify every bad impulse in us… 

            But instead, we tell those stories that sit well with our souls.

Stories of freedom and dignity

Humility, love, service, and friendship

The best of religion overcoming the worst of culture, 
communities where everyone matters.

            We tell these stories so that we can store up hope, 
pass on a future that reaches for something more 
more than hatred, hypocrisy and holding other people down. 

            We tell stories that are out of the ordinary, 
miraculous even; 
stories that could only be taken seriously because a loving God exists,

a loving God who is glorified in: 

liberation of the oppressed,
loving service, 
and proclamation of Gospel.

Amen.

Sermon: Mary, Martha, and Lazarus

         The Gospel of John is filled with profound encounters with Jesus
—stories of the extraordinary
—being ministered to by the invisible God made visible.

         Nick met Jesus at night, 
the Samaritan Woman meets him at high noon, 
the Man Born Blind has his night transformed into day.

         And today, it’s a family affair. 
Three siblings, Martha, Mary, and Lazarus
—have their lives transformed by Jesus.

Prayer

 

         Martha, Mary, and Lazarus
—the famous family who live in Bethany, 
a suburb of Jerusalem… 
They serve as Jesus’ home base when he goes down south, out of Galilee.

         When I lived in South Plainfield my couch was sometimes a home base for folk who wanted to travel in to New York City
—a 40-minute train ride from Metro Park Station to New York Penn Station… 
So too the sibling’s home.

         They have an ongoing relationship with Jesus
—they’re friends of his
—they are the core of his disciples near Jerusalem.

         Mary and Martha are sometimes lifted up as symbols of two types of Christians. 
Mary the good Disciple, one who follows…
Martha the good Deacon, one who serves…
For that matter, Lazarus is thought to be the mysterious “Beloved Disciples” of John’s Gospel.

         What I’m saying is their faith in Jesus is deep, 
and, rightly, so is their disappointment with his late arrival.

 

         After Jesus’ back and forth banter with Thomas about 
night and day, 
light and darkness, 
sleeping and waking, 
life and death… 
Jesus travels to his home away from home. 

         Martha expresses her grief
“if you’d been here, then Lazarus would not have died.

         Sure, he’ll live again when God makes all things right… 
but today? 
Today! 
What an astonishing claim, Jesus! 
But yes, I believe it!”

         Then, just like Andrew goes and calls his brother Peter to come and meet Jesus, 
so too, Martha goes and calls her sister Mary to Jesus’ side… 

         Mary runs to him, 
and the crowd follows after her (remember she’s known for her discipleship
—her following Jesus skills, 
so this is true to type)
         She repeats the same disappointment and grief her sister felt
—If you’d been here, then he would not have died…

         And this is some real stuff
—this is the grief of so many of our hearts, 
the disappointments we keep bottled up, 
some of us because we think such lines of logic are unfaithful… 
         Well Mary asks this fairly universal question, 
and then calls Jesus to her side, 
to the hollowest valley of her grief… 
her brother’s tomb: 
“Come and see!”

         “Jesus come and see my sorrow! 
Come and see your dear one’s pain and loss and despair.

         To this, Jesus weeps…

 

         Jesus wept, 
and then prays aloud for our sake, 
so that we can hear God’s heart revealed to God’s whole self… 
see God’s tears on God’s cheeks.

         God revealed as coming down into this world for us. 
God entering into the tomb with us that we might come out. 
That we might be unbound, freed.

 

         The one weeping with us, Teacher, Lord, Messiah, 
our friend Jesus!
is the Son of God, coming into the world, 
who has God’s ear 
and who raises from the dead
—God’s beloved son. 
Who is the Life Beyond Life, 
the I AM… 
so close to God that when you look, you can’t separate one from the other…

         He too will go down further still into the tomb, 
will identify with us so fully that he will die, 
and will draw us so close to him that he will rise so that we too shall rise.

 

         The one weeping with Mary and Martha for Lazarus, will see them again—so soon… 

         Their lives touched tenderly by divinity, 
will be clearly seen, 
clearly transformed, 
their ordinary lives now extraordinary
—at the Last Supper.

         On Maundy Thursday we’ll enact, however imperfectly, Martha, Mary, and Lazarus’ transformed lives. 

         Martha will serve at table, and will catch Jesus’ eye and become THE example of Christian Love, 
the concrete example of Jesus’ command, “Love one another.” Serving one another as the ultimate act of love. Disappointment gives way to loving service.
         Mary will anoint her friend Jesus’ feet with a grand abundance of glad and joyous oils
—oil originally meant to cover the stink of death, 
will spread the scent of life instead. 
Mourning smelling of abundant joy.

         Lazarus very much alive, leaning upon his Lord at table, eating with Jesus. 
In the ancient world that was how you’d know a person was flesh and blood and not a ghost—if they ate… 
and he will eat, with his Lord, 
at his final meal before Good Friday. 
Death transformed into life.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Sermon: The man, born blind

          As we march through John’s Gospel we continually find stories of people having profound encounters with Jesus… 

not stories of ordinary life, but extraordinary life
—God in the flesh, face to face

         First Nichodemus came to Jesus at night, 
then Jesus met the Samaritan Woman at High Noon… 
and now Jesus sees this Man Born Blind, 
and transforms night into day for him.

 

Prayer

 

         This man is born blind from birth
—he’s never seen the sun that warms his face, 
More than that, 
he may not be able to 
discern the difference between day and night. 
He has lived with a particular set of circumstances, 
and he’s probably been pigeonholed into a single role in his community.

 

         He’s been made into an object lesson, 
a prop used to make a point, 
an example to be trotted out to talk about the questions of the day.

         Both the Pharisees and Disciples use him in this way
—let’s talk about sin... 
using his life and identity as an in 
seeing him as nothing more than a conversation starter.

         

         But Jesus, 
he sees this man differently
—he sees him as a disciple to be, 
one who will be sent to witness the good works of God, 
sent to testify to the Light of the World.

         So, Jesus
—like God in genesis chapter 2
—gets down in the dirt and creates something new
—packs the man’s eyes with mud, 
and sends him to be washed in the water called Sent.

 

         Washed in the water called sent…

         Washed in the water, 
sight given, 
and sent 
to witness…

         You know this story isn’t only about this man… right? 
As folk washed in the waters of Baptism, 
we see differently
and we are sent out into the world 
to witness to the Goodness of God 
in word and in deed…

          He sees, 
and is surrounded by neighbors packed with questions.

 

         This man sees, and receives a new identity, right? 

He is no longer “The Blind Man” 
that role, 
that relationship with those around him,
is no longer his… 
and as such he becomes unidentifiable to his neighbors…

         They don’t know what to do with him… 
they had confused his disability with his distinctive identity. 
They’d invested every aspect of their relationship with him, 
on that one feature of who his was… 
Bet the whole relationship on his blindness
and now that has changed, 
and they can’t handle it! 
“It can’t be him!”

 

         Kindly enough, he explains what has happened, 
both to the crowd gathered there 
and then to the religious authorities… 
he re-tells his story 
again and again 
until he believes it himself…

         That’s one of the best things about: 
telling people about your faith, 
teaching it on to the next generation, 
hearing faith stories… 
it transforms us, 
it strengthens and develops our own faith. 
Through such actions our faith seeks understanding.

 

         By the end of these conversations this man, formerly blind, told these folk about Jesus six times:

-“The man called Jesus made mud…
-“Then I washed…
-“He is a Prophet… 

-“I was blind, now I see…
-“…Do you also want to become his disciples?

-“…If this man were not from God, he could do nothing.”

 

         What begins as a conversation about who he is, 
and how it all happened, 
becomes a conversation about discipleship… 
following Jesus… 

         They push him into it, 
walk him logically through what has happened… 
their own logic
—used on him as an object of their theological speculation
—swings back around, 
like a door pushed too hard,
The logic flies back at ‘em.

-“You don’t know from where Jesus comes. 
-God listens to those who worship and obey…

-Only God could open my eyes.

-Jesus opened my eyes. 

-Jesus is from God.”

 

         To this they respond by forcing the man back into an object, 
a prop, 
an example of sin, 
and its dispersion.

         They expel him. 
They drive him out, 
they can’t handle a healed man, 
having to deal with his whole identity, 
having to come to grips with God’s grip on his life…

 

         Expelled by his community, 
he finds himself among the community of the expelled… 
those who follow Jesus.

-Jesus too is labeled a sinner, 
-Jesus too is grilled by the religious authorities,

-Jesus too is weighed down by questions about his identity and his origins, 
-Jesus too is driven out, 
…Jesus, crucified outside the gates of Jerusalem.

         Expelled by his community, 
he finds himself among the community of the expelled… 
those who follow Jesus.

         

         He is driven out, 
and again encounters the one who healed him… 
He is found by Jesus Christ.

         There he confesses, witnesses to Jesus, 
two more times…
Like the Samaritan Woman before him, he does so with a question mark:

         She asked, “He couldn’t be the messiah, could he?”

         This man asks, “Who is the Son of Man? For I want to believe!”

The Son of Man…

-He is the Teacher and Prophet.
-He is the Giver of Sight and Revealer of Truth.

-He is the Light of the World.

-He is the One who is from God.

-He is to be worshipped.

-He is the I AM.

 

“Lord, I believe!” 
Amen.

The Woman at the Well

               As I said last week, we’re in the thick of thing in John’s Gospel

—graced week after week with stories of people having profound encounter with Jesus.
These aren’t stories of ordinary life
—but extraordinary life,
being ministered to by God in the flesh!
Being at the right time and place to be face to face with their Creator…

-Last week, Nichodemus came to Jesus at night,
-Today the Samaritan Woman meets Jesus at high noon.

 

Prayer

              She’s a Samaritan…
as John scholar Karoine Lewis, writes, “Samaria would be the last place not the first, expected for Jesus to show God’s love for the world.”

              “Jews don’t share things in common with Samaritans” is an understatement of understatements…
there is a 750-year history of estrangement between these two peoples,
 both religious and ethnic walls between them.

              She’s also a woman… one who has had five husbands…

              You might remember the sermon about a month back,
where I talked about marriage in the ancient world
—how it could be rather brutal,
cut short by a husband dissatisfied by the slightest thing…

              To have had five husbands…
this is a painful tragedy, likely abuse piled atop abuse…
surviving as a woman in a world where women were often considered akin to property…
God help her…

              As close to the center of religious and cultural power as Nichodemus was,
this woman is the opposite…
Yet, paradoxically, there is a night and day difference spiritually
—he comes to Jesus in the night of skepticism;
Jesus comes to her in the blazing sun of trust, relationship, and belief.

 

              Jesus comes to her, by this well, the well of Jacob
—a Well with a history recognized by both their respective cultures
—Samaritan and Jew…

              He asks her for the very thing he is offering
—water…
thirst at high noon quenched
—belief, relationship, and trust, quenched…

              Living water…
a moving stream, reliable, rejuvenating, bubbling up fresh and clean…

 

              Now the entire time I lived in Wyoming,
we were in the midst of a decades long drought
—the only grass I really knew to grow in Wyoming was buffalo grass
—stubbly, brown-grey, and curly…
but when I returned for my 10 year high school reunion
—it was transformed, lush greens and trees returned to health…
 I’d never seen such a thing…
enough snow pack,
enough water to fill dry dead streams,
living water!

 

              And so too on offer to this woman
—her life a dead stream of drought…
quenched…
drink deeply and flourish…
a life more stable and whole than husbands’ disapproval, societal shame, subsistence living.
A relationship with God in the flesh (or to put it another way God with sandals on)

 

              This is too much to hope for,
so she shifts the conversation to controversy
—where to worship God?

              Now, a century previous the Jewish ruler John Hyrcanus had razed the Samaritan’s temple…
so this was yet another bitter point of contention in those 750 years of hatred and conflict…

              “Where ought we worship God?”
Where does the Glory of the Lord reside
—the heft of God in the Holy of Holies in Mt. Zion,
or among the Samaritans on Mt. Gerezim?

              Neither says Jesus
—worship of God is taking place in this very moment,
the Temple is his body before her
—God present with her in that very moment…
the Glory of the Lord in the person of Jesus Christ.

 

              He is Living water… a living temple… shocking stuff…

              He is a prophet
—speaking words truer than fact
—telling of all things.

              He is the I AM
—God’s name revealed to both Samaritans and Jews
—I AM present not as a memory of a burning bush before Moses,
but living flesh and blood ministering to her… to us.

              He is Messiah,
the One Anointed to make all things right.

              He is Savior
—in John’s Gospel she alone names him such
—Savior of the World..

He is the one who saves by being present,
by being with us and for us,
God in sandals, walking alongside us, always with us.

 

She lets go of her jar,
lets go of every smallness of life,
transformed into a luscious living garden.

              She bolts from him once the disciples return,
so she can do what the disciples are slow to do among the Samaritans
—Go and Tell, Invite and Witness.

              She is a minister of the Gospel,
pointing to Jesus
—look! God in Sandals!

              She plants the good news,
trusting that the living water will make it grow.
Plants it among her community,
telling of her encounter with Jesus…

              AND, she does all this
—points to Jesus…
with a Question Mark!

              This is important!

              She knows she’s received living water…
a sustained and lasting experience of God
—but she doesn’t fully understand it…
who does, right?

              These questions don’t stop her
—stop her from telling folk…
She asks questions as a form of Testimony;
her earnest doubt is part of her God conversation.

              “He can’t be the Messiah, can he?”

              There isn’t something tricky or duplicitous in this question…
Before she can explain everything nice and tidy,
she tells about it,
she enters into conversation as Jesus did with her…

              And so can we!
Testify to what we know and don’t know
and trust that the Spirit will move between lips and ears.

 

              And her words, rejuvenated and joyful
—earn Jesus an audience among her people…
he stays with this woman’s neighbors for 2 days…

              No, that’s a bad translation
—Jesus Abides with them…
again, this is John’s point in writing about all of these encounters with Jesus
—Abiding.

              Skin to skin intimacy with God.
Like a babe with her mother.

              So are we.

              Jesus’ Abba, Pappa, Father
—abides with Jesus,
and Jesus abides with us…

              God in sandals with us.
God’s living water,
a sprouting green and pleasant life for the ages…
the Savior of the World savored by us,
abides with us.
Amen.

Sermon: Nick at Night

         For the next four weeks, 

five if you count Easter, 
we’ll be reading about, 
and hopefully inhabiting and taking with us out into our week, 
people having profound encounters with Jesus
—conversations that are transformative, 
experiences that stick with them.

         Today, we begin with Nichodemus meeting with Jesus at night… 
Nick at Night.

Prayer

 

Nick at Night.

         Nichodemus, 
a Pharisee, 
a leader, 
one who arrives by night… 
these are all important things to know about him.

         A Pharisee
—a type of religious person who encourages, 
arguably in a very imperfect way,
a popularized piety,
Religion that is for all the people, 
they are often found at odds with Jesus
—but most people thing this has to do with them agreeing on so much,
 that the disagreements sting all the more.

         A leader
—he’s got skin in the game, the system as it stands, 
temple compromised by Herod and a stagnant type of lackey imperialism
—he’s part of it all.

         He arrives at night
—This tells us more than we’d first expect it to. 

         If John’s gospel was a play or movie, the director would have to be very intentional about lighting. 
You see, the Lighting of John’s Gospel tells us what we need to know about those who meet Jesus…

John uses Lighting to indicate level of belief scene by scene, character by character…

         As we’ll see in these 5 weeks, time of day, tells an internal story about each person’s encounter with Jesus. 
John’s Gospel uses the time of day
—where the Sun is in the sky
—to let us know about belief and doubt, 
trust and hesitancy… 

 

         For Nichodemus, it is dark
—he does not see clearly, 
his relationship with Jesus is tentative, 
his trust in him, timid at best. 

         I’d go so far as to call Nichodemus a “healthy skeptic”
—a what-about-ism guy… 
but universally so… 
he’s willing to listen to Jesus, 
to give him a shot, 
ask him for an explanation
—a fair hearing, 
or at least something close to it.

         He arrives at night
—the night after the attack
—yes, John’s gospel sticks Jesus’ attack on the temple money changers at the start, 
already done by chapter 3, 
John makes it the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, not it’s ending (like the other Gospels)…

         Nichodemus comes, wanting to know what Jesus is up to… 
“What kind of sign is this?”

Chasing folk out of the courtyard and quoting scripture, “Zeal for God’s house shall consume me.”

         Perhaps Nick butters Jesus up to begin with, 
“Rabbi, teacher, you come from God.” 
He’s putting Jesus on a similar stage to himself
—setting him up as an equal, 
just two religious leaders talking to each other.

         That won’t do… 

Jesus takes any expected conversation
—set on Nichodemus’ terms, 
and wrenches them up to the sky. 
Jesus begins this back and forth about being born from above… 
and they are clearly talking on different planes…

 

         The second thing a director would have to do if they adapted John’s gospel into a play would be hire a good stage and set designer… some real carpenters would be needed…

         You see, the stage would have to have multiple levels… 
because John fundamentally assumes a multitier, multi-story universe… there is what is happening in the Earthly Realm, 
and what’s happening in the Spiritual Realm.

 

         Have you seen the TV show “Stranger Things?” 
It has a multi-tiered universe
—the normal world of High Schoolers, D&D and the Cold War in the 1980s, 
and the Upside-down with twisted surreal scenery, telekinetic powers, and monsters galore.

 

         So too John’s universe
—there is the surface things happening to Jesus and those who encounter him, 
but then there is also a heavy heavenly reality permeating the whole thing
—Jesus is heaven breaking through to the other side.

 

         Yes… Jesus…

         is the one born of God, 
of Water and Spirit.

         The one descending from heaven
So the invisible God might be made visible.

         The one who is telling the truth about God.
For he abides with God, skin to skin.

         The one who bridges worlds, 
for Love’s sake.

         The one who faces rejection by the world 
and turns it into a rescue operation.

         The one sent to save.

 

         Poor Nick
—it’s like he’s a soup cracker that’s been sandblasted. All his working assumptions about the universe are shredded.
Pulled into a truer reality, 
faced with the Kingdom of God in the flesh.

Not a teacher from God, 
but God’s only son, 
bringing eternity into the present.

 

         This is not Nick’s last act… 
When the religious folk first think to capture Jesus, 
Nick insists Jesus deserves to be heard out… 
to which those in authority respond with an implied threat, “you’re one of them, aren’t you?”

 

         Then finally, after Jesus’ execution, 
it is Nichodemus who prepares the body with a ridiculous abundance of myrrh… 
it is Nick who is the last one to see Jesus, 
before Mary sees him on the other side of Death. 

         Nichodemus, who first came to Jesus by night, 
risks ridicule and worse, exposed and out in the open,
to honor the one in whom God loved the whole world. Amen.