Your Faith Journey - Finding God Through Words, Song and Praise

This is a special musical performance of A Festival Introit for Easter by the Faith Lutheran Chancel Choir with Eli Rachlin on trumpet at Faith Lutheran Church in Okemos, Michigan.

I love the questions our young people often feel free to ask. In fact, I wish more adults would feel free to ask similar questions. Anyway, on multiple occasions, I have received from our youth questions about faith, the life of Jesus, questions about the existence of God, and questions that show they have an element of doubt regarding many aspects of faith. I truly encourage these questions because that is how we learn, that is how we grow, and that is how we are taken to new places. Austrian poet and novelist, Rainer Maria Rilke, once said, "Live the questions!" I truly believe that is the best way we learn. I also believe that as Christians, when we ask questions, we need to be honest about our doubt. Far too often the church has discouraged doubt. However, doubt is really a healthy aspect of faith. In fact, theologian, Paul Tillich, said doubt is a very necessary element of faith. And, theologian, Frederick Buechner, writes these words about doubt, "Whether your faith is that there is a God or that there is not a God, if you don't have any doubts, you are either kidding yourself or asleep. Doubts are the ants in the pants of faith. They keep it awake and moving." (Wishful Thinking.) In other words, doubt is not only an element of faith, but doubt also becomes the process through which faith grows and faith is deepened. Vibrant, living faith is nurtured and born in the mix of a rich environment where we have the freedom to ask questions, voice our doubts, articulate our wonderings about this person we call Jesus, and let go of old elementary images of God. For all of us, there is a real need for our old understandings of Jesus and our old understanding of faith to die. Our old understandings need to be eaten away by doubts so that a new and deeper faith may be born.

In today's gospel reading, questions and doubt come to the forefront in the story of Thomas. However, the truth is that all the disciples were questioning and experiencing doubt. It is still the day of Jesus' resurrection and here we find the disciples sitting in a room behind locked doors because of their fear, their doubt, and quite likely more than a little shame. They have blown it completely, they are hiding in fear, and they are doubting everything their master had said. And what is so fascinating is that, in the gospel of John, when Jesus appears to his disciples after the resurrection, nobody, not one person, initially recognizes him. Notice in the beginning of today's reading, the disciples do not recognize him until Jesus shows them his hands and side. They all doubted him! They doubted it was Jesus! It is only after Jesus shows them his hands and side that the disciples rejoice because they have seen the Lord. And while the other disciples also doubt, for some strange reason, only Thomas gets labeled "doubter."

Far too often we judge Thomas because of his doubt. We need to cut him some slack and give him a break. In Thomas we find the yearning of one who desperately wants to see with his eyes and touch with his hands that of which he has been told. He has real questions, real concerns, and a desire for a real encounter with the risen Lord. I think the story of Thomas captures our hearts and minds because we, too, were absent from the Resurrection experience two thousand years ago. When faced with the mystery of the Resurrection, the story of Thomas names that part in each of us that wants to scream out, "Show me!"

Thomas has just had a very harsh encounter with reality. Reality had hit hard in the form of a cross when his dear friend had been crucified. And, when he fled that horrible scene, not only had Jesus died, Thomas' hopes and dreams had also died. Jesus' crucifixion had destroyed his hopes for the future and very poignantly reminded him that there is an end. And it is the same for us. When the harsh realities of life hit us – whether it be the death of a family member, the loss of a job, an unexpected illness, a broken relationship, or whatever – reality deeply cuts into our hopes, our dreams, the very fabric of our relationships, and we are reminded that there is an end. There is an end over which we have no control as we feel we have been taken captive by an extremely cruel conqueror.

The reality that sliced into Thomas's hopes and dreams left him emotionally bleeding and broken. As he again joins the community of disciples, within the context of those who proclaim Jesus is alive, Thomas lays bare his doubt. He is very honest as he says, "Unless I see in his hands the print of the nails and place my finger in the mark of the nails, and place my hand in his side, I will not believe." In the depth of despair Thomas articulates his doubt, and it is in that place where he is now confronted with the risen Christ. It is in that place of despair that Thomas is greeted by the risen Lord whose presence exudes forgiveness and grace as he hears the words, "Peace be with you." In that moment, Thomas knows he is in the presence of God, and he believes.

Thomas lays bare his doubt which takes him to this encounter with the grace of God, a grace embodied and enfleshed in the risen Lord Jesus, and his entire reality is changed. Wow!! Did you get that? Reality itself has changed. The despairing Thomas does not escape from the real world and there is not a break from the tangible reality of the world. No. But there is something very different, something very, very new. God's grace and God's kingdom have invaded the real world, transformed it, and nothing will ever be the same again.

I think Thomas experiences Easter in the way many of us begin to experience it. Thomas finally gets Easter when he brings forth his questions. He wants to see and touch. He wants tangible proof and needs his own encounter before he can trust the story. It is doubt that compels Thomas to ask the questions and it is doubt that takes him to the place where he is looking for what is truly real and what truly matters. You see, without doubt, our faith is shallow and rootless. Without doubt, we fail to go down deep. Doubt is a sign of a healthy, deeply rooted faith, though most of us are taught to believe the opposite. And, when doubt takes us to deeper places in faith, our reality changes. We are transformed and our perspective on all of life changes as we live into a new reality.

This is what Easter is all about and what Easter means for each one of us. This new reality is a way of life, expressed as we come together to worship and be fed by the very life of the Risen Christ. We participate in the work of our risen Lord and live into this new reality as we see the hungry in this world and work for change, whether it is by distributing bags of food to Meridian Township families so they can have an Easter dinner, by routinely filling our micro pantries, or working with the refugees who are living in the Parish House as we help to provide for them a life of hope. We live this new reality when we intentionally work to end extreme poverty, racism, sexism, and all the isms that seem so prevalent in this culture. We live this new reality when we work to address climate change, working to bring healing and wholeness to the environment and the profound brokenness in this world God so deeply loves.

As the community of faith gathers and we allow ourselves to be vulnerable, voice our doubts and ask our questions, Jesus does appear. The community of faith is not the place where we have and know all the answers. It is a place where a searching faith can develop and become authentic and alive. Such an environment creates the space for an authentic encounter with God as the risen Christ appears.

So, Samantha, as you are confirmed on this day, I challenge you to continue to ask the questions. Continue to let your doubt take you deeper in understanding the story, because the questions that arise within you are the very heartbeat of your faith. The story of Thomas, his questions and his doubt, is one of the most compelling, believable, realistic stories in the Bible because it is your story, and it is our story. And the risen Christ is always breaking into our doubt and our questions and working to make us new. Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia!

As I studied our gospel reading for today, I started thinking about fear. I have been thinking about the way fear moves us to focus on security issues, and the way fear and security play such an important role in our lives, controlling so much of our behavior. It is fear that drives us to intently focus on and invest in various forms of security. If we listen to the daily news we will inevitably hear about issues and concerns regarding global security, national security, security within our community, security in our homes and our own personal security. Security issues have become so important to us they have evolved into big business in our culture. Security is used as a marketing tool for cars, tires, homes, internet resources, investment banking, politics, travel – the list goes on and on. Everyone is interested in keeping us safe. Cell phones, security systems, airport security lines, getting the right medical tests before or after the age of 50 – just about everything can be sold as a way to keep us free from threats, a way to keep us safe. And, while I do not want to minimize the need for security, I do want to suggest this incessant focus adds to the fear and anxiety that already permeates our culture and our very lives.

Well, in the last chapters of Matthew's gospel, we find people who were fearful and intently focused on security concerns. Security seems to be on everyone's mind. When Jesus was betrayed, it was temple security personnel armed with swords and clubs who came to arrest him. As this happened, the disciples sought their security in the cover of darkness, deserting Jesus and fleeing the garden. Peter sought security and safety in a courtyard by trying to keep a safe distance from Jesus while following what happened to Jesus during his trial. And, after Jesus was safely dead, the chief priests still felt this immense need for security and asked Pilate to place guards at the sealed tomb where Jesus' body was laid to rest. So, Pilate told his security detail – the soldiers – to "make that tomb as secure as you can," and he placed twenty-four-hour guards to keep watch.

And guess what! It did not work, and it does not work! It did not work for Peter who ended up denying Jesus three times. And it did not work for the chief priests who tried to secure and seal Jesus in a tomb. It did not work because Jesus, the Word made flesh, cannot and will not be contained. All attempts at achieving security were shattered when the very foundations of the earth shook. And, by a power greater than all attempts to achieve security, Jesus was raised!

When the very foundations of the earth shook as tectonic plates shifted, even Pilate's security detail fell to the ground in fear. As the soldiers become like dead men, paralyzed by fear, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary are greeted by the angel who says, "Don't be afraid. I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, 'He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.' This is my message for you."

The women then go, and what is so interesting is that they leave the tomb with both fear and joy! While they are joyful, an element of fear has not left them, and they apparently do not exactly feel secure and safe. You see, they are living an experience in which the very foundation of the earth under their feet has shaken them to the core. Their dear friend who was dead has not stayed dead!! Talk about not feeling secure and safe! And, as they run to tell the disciples, who should run into them but Jesus. Jesus, their risen Lord stands before them and says to them, "Do not be afraid." They encounter the risen Christ and hear him say, "Do not be afraid," and it is the very last time in Matthew's gospel that we hear anything about fear.

As the women encounter the risen Christ, it becomes very clear to them that reality itself had changed. The Rev. Dr. Mary Hinkle Shore describes this change in the women and all of Jesus' disciples by saying:

As the first Christians came to recognize the risen Christ, they experienced boldness and freedom of speech that surprises those of us who read their stories. It is as if their security came from the inside out. They were not afraid of people who scoffed at their claims. They were not afraid of authorities who ordered them to stop speaking of Jesus. They were free from what the neighbors thought about them and free from what the established power structure could do to them.

Now, we know that the disciples did face threats and persecution following Christ's resurrection. The history of the early church indicates many of them were killed for professing Christ as Savior and proclaiming their faith. However, after experiencing Christ's resurrection, even the threats made against their lives by those who were in power did not own them or define them. Fear no longer defined the way they lived or their proclamation of the good news. And what is so amazing is that even all the mistakes they had made, all of their fear induced foolishness and prior cowardly behavior, was met by the risen Christ who did meet them in Galilee. Their encounter with the risen Christ freed them from all that had been, and their reality was forever changed. And, even more, the risen Christ promised to be with them to the end of the age.

So, on this Easter morning, what might that kind of freedom mean for you? How does this good news free you from the fear that binds and imprisons you? How does this good news change the way you hear the daily news reports? How does this good news change the way you welcome strangers and those who are different, those you might consider other? How does this good news transform all that defines you? How does this good news transform this faith community and the way we live in the greater Okemos community and the world? How does this good news transform the way this faith community looks to the future? The risen Christ stands before us saying, "Do not be afraid!"

Because of Easter, we know the foundation of all that once was has been shaken and God is creating a new heaven and a new earth. And, because of Easter our lives are secure and held with Christ in the very God of all creation. Do not be afraid, because we know a Savior who died on the cross to break the power of everything that threatens to enslave or oppress or distort or destroy our humanity. Do not be afraid, because of Easter we know a God who takes all our pain and sorrow and suffering and sadness and loss and even death and turns it all into new life. Do not be afraid, because of Easter we believe the new life that came into being on that early morning two thousand years ago will one day transform everything and everyone. Do not be afraid, because of Easter we believe in a God who brings hope out of hopelessness and new life out of death. Do not be afraid, because of Easter we believe in a God who is working to bring grace and peace and mercy and love and justice and freedom and joy and life into every life. Do not be afraid, because of Easter and because we believe in a God who raised Jesus from the dead, we know that even death does not have the last word. God alone has the last word. You are secure!! We are secure!!

Do not be afraid! Because of Easter we are secure, and our future is secure! For the powers of death have been defeated already and no matter how violently they rage and no matter what power or authority they try to claim, Christ has already won the victory! Christ is Risen! He is Risen indeed! Alleluia!

This is a special musical performance of Christ is Risen, Alleluia! by the Faith Lutheran Chancel Choir with Emmet Lewis and Jaylen Hall on trumpet and David O'Donnell and Gracy Tomek on trombone at Faith Lutheran Church in Okemos, Michigan.

Many of us gathered here tonight have spent time sitting at the bedside of a relative or friend who is dying. Ken and I intimately shared this experience with Dorothy this past October as she faced the end of her life. Such an experience is sacred, and it is a deathwatch. Quite frankly, this experience will inevitably be part of every human being's life because none of us can escape death, whether it is the death of a dearly loved relative, a friend, or even our own death. Being present in a deathwatch is a necessary work and ritual, as we walk with loved ones to the endpoint of life.

Tonight, on this day we call Good Friday, we gather and stand at the foot of the cross to experience a deathwatch. We stand together in community as we watch our friend, Jesus, draw his last breath, and we experience a form of liturgy. The word liturgy literally means "the work of the people." So, as we come together tonight, we come to experience a necessary form of the work of the people, a liturgical deathwatch. And we wonder, "Where is God in the midst of such horror?" Throughout this week we have been remembering the unspeakable suffering and violence Jesus faced during his last week of life. And I have no doubt that the people who stood at the foot of the cross some 2,000 years ago wondered, "Where is God in the midst of such suffering?" Tonight, we stand at the foot of the cross, and we wait, and we wonder.

Friends and family have gathered for this deathwatch, looking on as Jesus is executed. Gathered here under the cross we find a menagerie of humanity and I wonder what role I play. I see the executioners, the guards and the gamblers, the mourners, the friends, the followers, the mother, the criminals, the devout religious elite, the politicians, the passersby, the innocent bystanders. And all I can do is wonder how Jesus can continue to love this lot of human beings even as he breathes his last breath. Yes, this is a liturgical deathwatch.

Frederick Buechner, in his book Waiting in the Dark, writes, "At no time more than at a painful time do we live out of the depths of who we are instead of out of the shallows." As we gather and watch Jesus breathe his last, I wonder, and I think about this. I think about the fact that we need to go to a deeper place to make sense of this horror. I am reminded of the necessary, disturbing, yet cathartic aspect of this experience. I am reminded of the way in which we replay the details of this story year after year. I am reminded of the way in which we find ourselves in the story and consider our own culpability. Yes, this is a necessary work of the people, even if repulsive. Theologian, William Cavanaugh, has written, this is "a kind of perverse liturgy in which the body of the victim is the ritual site where the state's power is manifested in its most awesome form." It is a perverted, violent, diseased form of liturgy. It is a diseased form of the work of the people. Yet, as we experience this work of the people, waiting and watching as Jesus faces the brutal, violent end of life, we come face to face with love! A perverted, diseased liturgy comes face to face with true liturgy as we begin to see the very heart of God, a God who embraces even the deepest brokenness of this world in love and continues to love.

In this execution of our friend Jesus, we see a God who is present in the deepest, darkest, most violent places in life. What juxtaposition we find as we again experience this true liturgy. Every time we replay this deathwatch, we experience a true liturgy which is the Eucharist. We enter the place where the body of the victim, our friend, Jesus, makes possible the creation of a new body. For, it is in the death of Jesus' body that a new body is formed – the community of believers – a new body which lives by resurrection hope.

Yes, this is a necessary liturgical deathwatch. We need to replay this work of the people every year. As Jesus hangs on a cross before us, he holds up a mirror to all our diseased, distorted liturgies. We need to experience this liturgy because we need to be reminded of the diseased, counter liturgies that are taking place in the world and in our culture, the other liturgies we live by in which bodies are scripted into other dramas – like the dramas of fear, hatred. and exclusion. Such are the liturgies that unite people in today's violent world, liturgies we continually see enacted in the epidemic gun violence that plagues our culture. In the routine child sacrifices we make to the god of guns. This is truly a diseased, sick ritual or liturgy we allow to happen over and over again. Such are the liturgies embodied in reactive behaviors that lead to exclusion and fear, liturgies we see as policies created to ban books and marginalize the LGBTQIA community, liturgies that criminalize compassion and care for transgender youth. Such are the liturgies that lead to forms of division and hatred, liturgies that attempt to whitewash the history of slavery in this country and walk back the civil rights movement, liturgies that create a mentality of us vs them. These are the deeply distorted, diseased forms of liturgy, the truly perverted works of the people we experience on a daily basis. And, in the cross of Jesus we find that God still lovingly embraces us, takes our sordid, perverted, deadly liturgies into God's very self, enters the tombs we create, breaks the chains of death that hold us, and then transforms our very lives through grace and love.

Tonight, as we face the cross, we move toward the end. As we stand at the foot of the cross, we hear Jesus' last words as he proclaims, "It is finished." Tonight, we move toward the conclusion and purpose of this Lenten journey. And, as we watch Jesus die, we astonishingly watch him embrace this deeply broken world with love, and then we are called to remember that the liturgy we enact as people of faith is one of hope, not fear. The work of the people we are called to enact and live is one of embrace, not exclusion. As we live this liturgical deathwatch, we know that in Jesus, we find hope, a vibrant living hope, we find grace, and we find love. We also know he has promised that, after three days, he will rise again! And, in Jesus, our dear friend who hangs there dead and lifeless, we see a world that is truly over-turning, and there, in that place, we find the reorientation of our entire existence. Our liturgical deathwatch is coming to an end as we watch humanity kill its Creator. But, we remember that "in God accepting this end in Jesus, there is now nowhere that we go that God has not been before, not even death. And this descent into death in itself is not the last word because Sunday, yes Sunday, is just around the corner." (Frederick Buechner)

I am a people watcher. I love watching how people react and respond in various situations and circumstances, and I learn a lot about people and human behavior by doing this people watching. I find it fascinating to watch people's actions when forced to move beyond their comfort zones. Quite honestly, when any one of us is forced to move beyond our comfort zone because of changing circumstances, we often react adversely. One can expect that when we step outside of our comfort zone, we usually experience added stress and anxiety. And, when this happens, people can become quite reactive – often displaying unpleasant behavior. So, the gospel reading on this night is captivating because we see the disciples having to move way beyond their comfort zones.

In biblical times, the washing of feet was a non-religious, ordinary part of everyday life. It was as ordinary as brushing your teeth or washing your hands before a meal. It was a secular practice that routinely took place after entering a dwelling, especially if you would be sitting down and preparing to eat a meal. After all, peoples' feet would get very dirty from all of that walking in those sandals on dusty roads. Furthermore, this foot washing was always done by the lowliest of servants. So, when Jesus gets up from the table and begins washing the disciples' feet, his action is truly shocking. In fact, it is disgraceful and scandalous, and it moves the disciples to a place of real unease. It moves them beyond their comfort zones.

Reactive Peter, always the outspoken one, always a work in progress, knows that servants wash the feet of their master. Masters do not wash the feet of their servants. This is just NOT how the world works. So, certainly Jesus, the one they see as the Messiah, should not be the one touching their feet! Peter's world is structured by domination, power, hierarchy, and tradition. Foot washing revealed the societal pecking order. It was usually done by slaves, children, and women, those who had no standing in society. The lower class washed the upper class. Now, I have to say, our world is not all that different from Peter's. Those who have power, wealth, intelligence, beauty, and position are the ones who are washed, they make sure they get the best of everything and hire others to do the menial work. Those who don't have power, wealth, intelligence, beauty and position – well, they are the washers.

But this night is different, this foot washing is different. Once again Jesus is breaking the rules and the social order is being realigned as Jesus forces the disciples to move beyond their comfort zones. In the middle of supper Jesus gets up from the table, removes his outer robe, ties a towel around himself, pours water into a basin, and he begins to wash the disciples' feet. With this action, the boundaries that establish status and power are completely reversed, and all human images of protective barriers that provide security are removed. And what is the result? Turmoil fills the room. Peter is alarmed. His world is being changed. This is truly uncomfortable. Peter does not like it and he does not understand it.

As we ponder Peter's reaction, I ask you to think about the past few years of our lives, about how our world has changed. I ask you to think about how you may have felt threatened by that change. Think about the last time some circumstance forced you to move beyond your comfort zone. Even when it's for our own good we often resist, get angry, or fight back. At a minimum, we grumble under our breath or vent to a trusted friend. So, Peter responds saying, "You will never wash my feet! I am hanging on to what I know, to what I have. I don't want you messing with my world. This is just not right and definitely not comfortable." Today in the church we might respond, "We've never done it like this before and we're just not really interested in starting now."

Jesus is always setting before us one example after another of what God's life in the world looks like. God's life in this world is always going to shake us up and move us to places that quite frequently seem uncomfortable and downright risky. For Peter, Jesus' action looks like nothing he has ever seen or done before. As he reacts, I wonder if he might be pondering, "If this is how the Messiah acts, what will be expected of the Messiah's disciples? Whose feet might I be asked to wash for the love of Christ?"

Well, as Peter objects and wonders, he hears Jesus say, "You also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master." Listen to the way theologian, John Shelby Spong, describes what Jesus is saying. Spong writes:

Peter, do not resist the freeing power of divine love through which I am calling you into a new dimension of what it means to be truly human. Here status needs are not relevant. Those rules apply only in the world of consistent human yearning, the world of human becoming. I am a doorway for you into being itself. Come through me and you will become more fully human. I am inviting you into an experience that will make you whole. If I do not wash your feet, you cannot be part of the God I am revealing and of the humanity I am offering. (John Shelby Spong, The Fourth Gospel: Tales of a Jewish Mystic)

In the gospel of John, Jesus is always calling us into a new way of being, new life that truly matters. And, tonight, we see Jesus sets before the disciples and before us an example of love, servant love. That is the kind of love he has lived and that is the kind of love he calls us to live. By doing this, Jesus has washed away the old ways of domination and hierarchy. He has replaced those old ways with something new, communion and love. There are no feet excluded from God's love, and God's very self is defined as love. There are no feet unworthy of being washed. Even Judas's feet were washed. And, the unconditional love of Jesus always means moving beyond our comfort zone and going to the places where Jesus goes.

Think of all the feet that pass through our lives in a day, a month, a year, a lifetime. What have we done with those feet? What will we do with them? Maybe we ignore them. Maybe we have stepped on them. Maybe we have received them into our lives and maybe we have not. So many feet. Young, old, tired, lost, angry, hurt. There are all sorts of feet. Feet that have walked through the muck of life. Feet that have trespassed into places they shouldn't have gone. Feet that have stood on holy ground. Feet that have carried the message of good news. Feet that dance to a different beat or walk a path different from ours.

Those are the very feet Jesus washed. They are the feet of the world. They are the ones he commands us to wash. And guess what? They are no different from our own feet. We too have walked through the muck of life. Our feet have trespassed into places they shouldn't have gone. Our feet have stood on holy ground. Our feet have carried the message of good news. Our feet have sometimes walked a unique, if not strange, path.

Well, still feeling the discomfort of this situation, Peter hears Jesus then say, "I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."

Jesus, through his action of washing the disciples' feet, has just taken on the role of the servant. He is showing the disciples that love means serving others, all others! The love he has for them also means providing routine physical, even intimate care for others. Jesus subverts the religious expectations of the moment by turning this non-religious deed into an act of humility, service, and love. And he moves his disciples way beyond their comfort zones. Yes, that is where love will always take us. That is what love does because love always takes us to the cross.

Tonight, Jesus comes to each one of us and, through his very humble deed, shows us and teaches us what love is all about. The self-giving love of Jesus connects us to the very source of love, God's very self. It is a love we will see lifted high on a cross. And it is that self-giving, healing love that empowers us to move beyond our comfort zones as we share God's love for the sake of a very broken world.

This is a special musical performance of O Love, How Deep, How Broad, How High by the Faith Lutheran Chancel Choir with a solo on Clarinet by Michael Fox at Faith Lutheran Church in Okemos, Michigan.

As a hospital chaplain, when family members tell me that they're "praying for a miracle", this is usually the miracle they're referring to

This miracle occurs at the pinnacle of Jesus' ministry

demonstrating his close connection to, and unity with God

Jesus has been going around performing various miracles

From the wedding at Cana, turning water into wine

To healing many who were sick

To feeding five thousand people with a few loaves of bread and fish

To walking on water and calming the sea

To the miracle we heard just last week of restoring a man's sight

Today we hear about Jesus performing the ultimate miracle

When Jesus brings Lazarus out of his grave,

Wrapped in cloth

After being dead for four days…

It is truly an incredible story

So incredible, it really messes with the logic and reason side of our brain

We don't know where to put this story, as we wonder

"Did this really happen?!" / / /

"Did this really happen?" is a fair question

Doubt is not the opposite of faith

Indifference is

Doubt is an indication of a true, and curious relationship

And we learn, week after week, about how relationship is the thing that God most desires from us

So, fresh from seminary studies, learning both Hebrew and Greek, delving into the historical, cultural and theological meanings of scripture, I'll tell you…

Did this really happen?

I don't know.

But… what I DO know, is that to focus on the logic and reason of this

And really ANY scripture story

Misses the depth, breadth, and beauty that scripture stories offer us

Instead of "Did this really happen?"

I prefer to focus on questions like

"What does this say about Jesus?"

"What do we learn about Jesus' relationship with God…

and with others through this story?"

"What do we learn about the nature of God here?"

We read excerpts of the gospel each week, and it's crucial to consider today's passage in the midst of the arc of what's happening in John's gospel

Last week Jesus restored the blind man's sight

On the holy day of the Sabbath

Which really got the attention of the religious leaders, the Pharisees, in the community

They really began to wonder how Jesus might be threatening their community as he challenged the rules of the Sabbath

Then Jesus goes and raises Lazarus

Which is THE public act that tips the religious leaders toward putting him to death

Today is the day

That religious leaders decide Jesus has gone too far,

He becomes a threat

To understand this threat, let's consider a bit about how first century Jews thought about God and holiness

Jews maintained a strict purity system that protected God's holiness

And this system was enforced by the religious leaders like the priests and Pharisees

Impurities like blood, some illnesses, and death

Were controlled, and there were regulations around handling these impurities appropriately

There were very clear boundaries in this Jewish culture

Between where God could be (places and times deemed holy)

And where God could not be (places and times deemed impure)

These boundaries served two purposes

One to ensure God's continued presence in the Jewish temple

The other was to ensure the people's access to God, or

To continue to be in relationship with God and one another

Basically, they didn't want to get kicked out or force God to leave because of impurities

The book of Leviticus is filled with details about this

So throughout Jesus' ministry, and especially today, Jesus has been threatening what the Jews believed about these boundaries and God

He's been threatening what it means to be in relationship with God

Today, as Jesus faces the greatest impurity within the force of death

He challenges Jewish religious understanding on a new level

Focusing just on the raising of Lazarus is to miss an essential part of the story,

which is Jesus' identity and how God is revealed through him

Jesus proclaims: "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." (Jn 11:25)

This "I am" is a primary focus, and thread, of Jesus, throughout the gospel of John

Jesus' declaration of "I am" is a statement of his connectedness to God

sharing fully in the power of God

And God revealing Godself through Jesus

As Christians, this might not sound as revolutionary is it did to Jewish believers in the first century

Because we believe in the Trinity

But for ancient Jews, God was in the temple, in the holy of holies,

with very limited access, with strict boundaries

But Jesus' declaration "I am" shifts the Jewish perspective of God

From God as a static being

Toward God's presence here, now, then, and there… everywhere and always

From God as separate from the impurities of life

Toward God reigning in the midst of those impurities…

Moving and flowing and changing lives

This moving and flowing is not controlled or contained

God cannot be threatened, even by the most impure and powerful force of death

But the power of God, through the person of Jesus, is breaking all of the "rules"

This threatened to shatter how the region of Judea, the communities of Bethany, and Jerusalem, understood how the world worked

We are not so unlike the Pharisees and people of Judea

We prefer logic and reason over the supernatural

We prefer boundaries, control and predictability

We think we all ready know and understand how the world – and God -- work

So today Jesus challenges us as much as he challenges the people two thousand years ago

What if you don't know?

What if God is so powerful that God remains connected to us always and through all things

Through hunger, thirst and injustice

Through sickness, pain and hurt

Through immobilizing fear and anxiety

Through rejection, isolation, and losing our way

Even through death

Jesus demonstrates today, and throughout his ministry, that NOTHING separates us from God

"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." (Jn 11:25)

God's power is always flowing, transforming, resurrecting US from the depths of our selves

And we are connected to this divine, supernatural power of God

If we allow it

If we are open to it

If we accept it

/ / /

"Did this really happen?"

I don't know

But the next time I pray for a miracle

Maybe I'll think…

It's all ready happened

Maybe I'll realize…

God is with me still, even now

Maybe I'll wonder…

What will God do with me next

Maybe I'll believe

The divine can crash through what I think I know is possible

Maybe I'll realize

What living really means

Amen.

This is a special musical performance of Lonesome Valley by the Faith Lutheran Chancel Choir at Faith Lutheran Church in Okemos, Michigan.

"I once was lost, but now am found, 'twas blind, but now I see." "'Twas blind, but now I see." These are the words that come from the lips of the blind man who was healed in today's gospel reading. However, most of you know them best as part of the hymn, "Amazing Grace," written by John Newton. In his first career John Newton was a sea captain, and a slave trader. During a violent storm he cried out for Christ's mercy. He was "saved" from the violent storm and his life was transformed. He eventually became a minister of the gospel, and he played an important role in the abolitionist movement in England. It was after that transformational experience that he wrote the hymn "Amazing Grace."

"'Twas blind, but now I see." All of today's readings connect in some way to blindness and sight. In the First Reading we have the prophet Samuel who is able to see what David's father, Jesse, cannot see – that this youngest son of less lofty stature, forgotten and out in the fields, is the chosen one. Jesse's youngest son, David, is the one God has chosen to be king of Israel. And Samuel essentially communicates this message, "Humans see only appearances, but God sees the heart."

"'Twas blind, but now I see." In today's Second Reading from Ephesians, we hear words encouraging us to do our own "shadow work" as Richard Rohr would say, our own work on self. That is where we look to discover our blind spots. We are encouraged to bring our self-deceptions into the light. At the time when Ephesians was written, those who were preparing to be baptized were being encouraged to do what was called a moral inventory and look at their own self. Psychologists will tell you that we must bring our shames and our denials into the light, or they kill us from within. In essence, this is what repentance is about, and it brings not only newness of life, but also a new way of seeing.

"'Twas blind, but now I see." Finally, we come to today's gospel reading. This passage from John's gospel is one of the most profound and rich in the whole New Testament. Today we are given this great theater-piece of a Gospel reading about a man born blind. In fact, because this story has so many clear roles, interacting characters, and dramatic lines, some scholars think this story was enacted in sanctuaries in the early church. While there are layers and layers of meaning in this passage, we can only touch upon the surface here this morning. However, I want to share with you some of the major themes so you cannot miss them. And I invite you to take your bulletin home and think about them throughout the week. Here is the way Richard Rohr lists the major themes:

• The "man born blind" is the archetype for all of us at the beginning of life's journey.
• The moral blame game as to why or who caused human suffering is a waste of time.
• The man does not even ask to be healed. It is just offered and given.
• Religious authorities are often more concerned about control and correct theology than actually healing people. They are presented as narrow and unloving people throughout the story.
• Many people have made their spiritual conclusions before the facts are in front of them. The man is a predefined "sinner" and has no credibility for them.
• Belief in and love of Jesus come after the fact, subsequent to the healing. Perfect faith or motivation is not always a prerequisite for God's action. Sometimes God does things for God's own purposes.
• Spirituality is about seeing. Sin is about blindness, or as Gregory of Nyssa once said, "Sin is always a refusal to grow."
• Finally, the one who knows little, learns much and those who have all their answers already, learn nothing.

"Twas blind, but now I see." Today's gospel reading is one in which Jesus invites us into the story, a reading that is truly our story, and it speaks to multiple forms of blindness. This reading not only addresses one man's literal blindness. It also addresses a simplistic understanding of sin that was a common view of the day, yet another form of blindness. When the disciples voice this simplistic understanding of sin by referencing disability or hardship as somehow the result of sin, Jesus adamantly disagrees. Also, when the Pharisees assume that knowledge of the law automatically grants righteousness, Jesus counters this thinking by saying that precisely because they deny their sin and claim to "see," they are in fact sinning and they are the blind ones. Jesus says this because "sin" at its most basic level is not recognizing Jesus as God's messiah, the person through whom God is at work to save the world.

Blindness is not about the quality of our vision or the condition of our eyes. It is not about the darkness around us but, rather the darkness within us. How we se others, what we see in the world, the way we see life, is always less about the objects of our seeing and more about ourselves. Too often, we do not see God, people, things, or circumstances as they are but as WE are. Until our eyes are opened by Christ, our seeing is really just a projection of ourselves onto the world. What we see and how we see manifest and make known our inner world. They describe and point to the fears, attachments, and beliefs within us.

If we wish to see God, life, and others as they really are then we must attend to what is going on within us. True seeing begins in the heart, not the eyes. We must begin to acknowledge the fears, attachments, and beliefs that live within us and how they have impaired our vision.

To follow Jesus is to see differently. Sometimes, to follow Jesus is to be brought into a messy situation, maybe even a crisis. But, in the mess, God is doing a new thing. And, to have a conversation with Jesus and follow him is to be opened to newness. Sometimes, this newness means discovering we are blinded when we think we see perfectly. Sometimes, this newness means to be given new insight, a new way of thinking and being. This blind man was made new, and he was given new sight, a new life, and a new chance.

Theologian, Nadia Bolz Weber, writes, "New is often messy. New looks like recovering alcoholics. New looks like reconciliation between family members who don't actually deserve it. New looks like every time I manage to admit I was wrong and every time I manage to not mention when I'm right. New looks like a very fresh start and every act of forgiveness. New is the thing we never saw coming – never even hoped for – like our blind guy in this story. But new ends up being what I needed all along." And, by the way, such newness is also what we call grace, it is what we call love. Bolz-Weber continues by saying, "God simply keeps reaching down…reaching down into the dirt of your humanity and resurrecting you from the graves you dig for yourself through your violence, your lies, your selfishness, your arrogance, and your addictions. And God keeps loving you back to life over and over….There are times when faith feels like a friendship with God. But there are other times when it feels….I don't know….more vacant. Yet none of that matters in the end. How you feel about Jesus or how close you feel to God is meaningless next to how God acts upon you. How God indeed enters into your messy life and loves you through it, maybe whether you want God's help or not."

Yes, maybe whether you want God's help or not. In today's story, one of the most remarkable things is the fact that the blind man didn't seek out Jesus or ask for his help. Yet, he was healed and made whole in the end. And the powerful, life-giving truth of the gospel is that our suffering, our grief, and even our sin, will not have the last word.

This story is truly our story. The inner darkness of our fears, our attachments, and beliefs is what keeps us from seeing. They cover our eyes like the mud on the eyes of the man born blind. In placing mud on the blind man's eyes, Jesus is holding before him the reality of his blindness. He wears thick black lenses of fear, attachments, and beliefs. We all do. Those who know this are sent to wash in the pool, to be re-created, to be made new in the waters of our baptism, and to see with new eyes. And, as the cool and refreshing waters of life wash over us – those baptismal waters in which we daily live – our eyes and our hearts are opened to behold the living Christ, standing before us as the chains of death and hell lay broken at his feet. There is then no other response than to raise our voice and cry out at last, "'Twas blind, but now I see! Lord! I believe!"