Fiery Courage: May 10

 Year A, Easter 6                                            John 14:16-21  

           One of my earliest memories is riding on a plane for the first time. I was really excited about what it would be like to fly through the clouds.  From down below the clouds look like the cotton you see growing on the plant before it’s harvested.  I imagined that once you were flying in the clouds, it would look the same way.  Maybe I would see some angels with harps.  You can imagine my disappointment when we first broke through the clouds.  It was just hazy.  You couldn’t see much of anything.  There were no places for angels to lounge gracefully.  I thought that these clouds were something you could really wrap your arms around, like a really amazing pillow.  It was a real let down seeing them close up. Now that I am an adult, I know that angels don’t lounge on clouds and heaven is another realm, not just really high in the sky.  Yet I still long for things that can be grasped.        

          The season of Easter is a bit confusing when it comes to our readings.  The first few Sundays, we have stories of the resurrected Jesus…which makes a lot of sense for the season of Easter. Then last week we shifted to John 14 which contains the words Jesus shared before he died.   Today we have a continuation of what we started last week.  It’s usually referred to as the farewell discourse, which is just a fancy way of saying---the long good bye. These were words that Jesus shared with his disciples as he prepared them not just for his death, but also his resurrection and then life after that—life without Jesus’ presence. 

This week’s portion is the introduction to the Advocate. The word Advocate comes from the Greek word parakletos.  I try not to randomly drop Greek words into a sermon because I think it just confuses people most of the time. However, when the word doesn’t have a simple translation, then I like to mention it.  Parakletos is translated to a bunch of different things in the New Testament.  The most literal translation is “called to one’s side.”  It is often translated to Advocate, Comforter, or Helper.  It’s also another way of describing the Holy Spirit.

The Holy Spirit is impossible to explain.  We use all kinds of images for it.  When Jesus was baptized, the Spirit descended in the form of a dove.  On Pentecost, the Spirit came in the shape of flames.  When Jesus returned from the dead and appeared to them, he breathed on them so that they might receive the Holy Spirit. In the Old Testament, it is depicted as wind.  So let’s see….dove, flames, breath and wind.  Those are not very consistent images. 

To be honest, I never really paid much attention to the Holy Spirit…maybe for the same reason the clouds were so disappointing to me. I like something I can hold onto.  It’s probably why we love our phones so much.  It’s something we can hold, something that gives us all the answers we want, yet few that we actually need. 

          The first time I remember really appreciating the Holy Spirit was reading a book called “The Shack.” I won’t explain the whole plot, but the book tried to depict all the parts of the Trinity in human or human like form.  Both God and Jesus were humans, but the Holy Spirit was almost like a colorful fairy who talked and did human like things, but was also incandescent. While the book is far from perfect theologically, I thought it did a really good job of bringing the Trinity to life.  One year, I used only that book for my youth confirmation class. At the end, I asked them all the same question I asked previous classes.  Which part of the Trinity to you feel closest to? Which do you pray to? Previous classes all said Jesus, or God the Father.  However, in this confirmation class, most said the Holy Spirit because they understood it in a more tangible way. 

The 2^nd time I really connected with the Holy Spirit was when I was very ill and confined to a hospital bed. For the first time in my life, Jesus felt far away.   But the Holy Spirit I could sense at times. She helped me feel a little less alone.  That’s what I think Jesus hoped the Holy Spirit would do, help us feel less alone.

          Jesus knew not only how hard his death would be for this disciples, but how hard it would be to be left on this earth without him.  Jesus also knew how hard it would be for the generations after him who would have no experience with the Jesus who walked on this earth.  He understood that we would all need someone to walk along side us.

          He said to his disciples, “I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you.  In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live.”  In other words, I will never abandon you.  I will always be with you.  While you may not see me, that does not mean that I am not with you.  Death is not the end. My death will enable you to inherit eternal life with me.  I will see you again soon, and in the mean time, I will be with you in spirit.  Even as I reconstruct John’s words using simpler language, I can see that words are not what enable us to understand.  Knowing the stories, knowing that Jesus kept all those promises he made, that is what helps us to understand. No matter how many times he tried to explain it to his disciples, deep down, he must have known that they would not understand.  They would only comprehend the meaning of his words after the resurrection.  You can’t blame him for trying.  He had to try, because that is how much Jesus cares for us. He will not leave us ignorant or shield us from the hard lessons of life. He might leave us a little confused, but never unaware. 

          Even in our confusion, we still know that we have a place to turn, and that is the advocate, the spirit of truth.    We don’t have to understand the Holy Spirit to believe in the Holy Spirit. While there are a lot of translations for parakletos, the one I found that really resonated with me is: helping the dispirited person be brave.[1]  When we translate parakletos to comforter, or helper, we think of someone who will sympathize, or give us a big hug.  While everyone needs that at times, I don’t think that was Jesus’ intention.  Jesus knew that his departure would leave his disciples distraught.  He knew that they would face many obstacles, and most likely a violent death.  Thus he left them exactly what they needed, courage.

          We still need that courage.  I wouldn’t say we need courage more than ever. I am sure most of us can think of times we have needed courage, even more than now.  But I think this is a time in our nation and our world where Christians need more than a helper or comforter.  We don’t need a dove or a gentle wind.  We need that fire that we will witness on Pentecost, the fire that refuses to be quashed, the fire that spreads.

I heard a quote when I was writing this sermon--“That we have a God who might protect us from nothing, but who will sustain us in everything.”[2]  I often wish that God would swoop in and keep bad things from happening, that God would protect us all from the harsh realities of this life.  Yet again and again I see that is not how God operates. I could complain about that (and I do sometimes) or I could just release that expectation and instead focus on what God is doing.  God doesn’t protect us from the hard things, but God does sustain us when we are facing the hard things. God gives us the courage that we need.  So let us harness that courage.  Let us call on the Holy Spirit to make us braver, braver than we ever could be on our own.

 

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[1]Barclay, William.  The Gospel of John volume 2, p.167.

[2] Rev’d up for Sunday podcast: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aGPyMmWDhxE

 

God's Chosen Strangers: May 3

2^nd Peter 2:2-10                            Year A, Easter 5                                                                                      

    Every three years we read a portion of 1^st Peter six weeks in a row, then people like me and I assume others as well, kind of forget about it.  Usually our 2^nd New Testament reading comes from one of Paul’s letters.  He wrote a good portion of the New Testament, but not all of it.  Paul’s letters were almost always directed to communities.  Even when there was an individual recipient, it was usually written with the idea that the individual would share the letter with a specific community.  However, this letter that is attributed to Peter, is geared toward a wider audience.  The very first line of the letter says “To God’s chosen strangers in the world of the diaspora, who live in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia.”[1]  I love that line—God’s chosen strangers.  Most scholars believe that this letter was written about 30 years after Jesus died to fledgling Christian communities who were in more hostile environments, places where communities were spread out more.  Most of these were places Paul didn’t even get to in his missionary journeys.

          There really wasn’t much of a Christian identity at the time.  The term Christian only appears in our Bible three times—twice in the Book of Acts and once in the 4^th chapter of Peter.  It seems like the term is associated with the crucified Christ.  The fact that Jesus was crucified was often used as a reason to prove that Jesus wasn’t the Messiah.  It certainly wasn’t proof that he was.  Most who became followers of Christ were ostracized from their communities.  Some were able to convert enough of their family to create a new community, but some were just pushed out and isolated.

In the last few weeks we have been hearing celebratory stories from the Book of Acts about thousands being baptized in a day.  Last week we heard about how wonderful and supportive those early Christian communities were.   For the last month, we have been basking in the Easter glow.   This Sunday, our Acts reading tells the story of the stoning of Stephen, our first Christian martyr.  (A martyr is someone who dies for their faith.) The terrifying reality of our faith is that, there has never been a point where it was easy to be a Christian.  It was never meant to be easy.  When we become too comfortable with our Christianity, when it has been watered down so it can be more palatable, then we have become complacent, and that is rarely a good thing.

          One of the lines in first Peter really jumps out at you, “But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people…” You can just hear certain people taking that out of context. It hasn’t happened yet---I checked.  But it’s just a matter of time until someone does a deep dive and finds the phrase, “holy nation” or “chosen race.”  Those phrases should make us a little uncomfortable. It sounds like we are excluding certain people, that Jesus just came for the chosen race.  Or, that Jesus wants us to create a holy nation, rather than be a holy people.  It sounds exclusive and that should make Episcopalians and any Christians who put an emphasis on inclusivity want to cringe a little.

          But it actually means the exact opposite (and this is your monthly reminder that we always have to read the text in context.)  Remember how 1^st Peter began: “to God’s chosen strangers in the world of the diaspora…”  These words are meant for a people who are feeling cut off and ostracized, either because of their location, or the people who are around them.  They don’t have a community.  They might just have a few families who are followers of Christ that they know.  But there is also a good chance, they have been forced to leave their community or even their family of origin.  

There wasn’t Christian persecution on a large scale at this time, but we can see from Acts, that Christians were being persecuted. Peter was saying to these chosen strangers, people in the diaspora, “I know you are suffering. I know you feel alone. But you are part of a holy nation, a holy priesthood, a chosen race.” This holy nation doesn’t have physical boundaries.   You can be a part of this holy nation wherever you live. It doesn’t exclude anyone who has committed to following Jesus.  And this chosen race isn’t based on the color of your skin, where you were born, who your parents are, it’s the human race, a people that were created by God.    To a people who were displaced and pushed out, knowing that they had this distinct identity, that they were part of a holy nation created by God-- that had to be incredibly comforting.

          I think most of us know what it is to be in a place where you feel like you don’t belong.  Usually, it’s temporary.  Typically there is some place in your life you feel like you belong. Yet there are many people in our world, maybe even some people here, who understand too well, that feeling of being isolated and not belonging all the time.  To you, I want to say, you do belong. I am not saying that because we are a progressive and welcoming church.  (That is true, but not the salient point here.) I am saying that because you belong to Jesus. “You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people.”  God’s own people.  You are God’s people, and that’s a good people to be. 

If you belong to God, then there is no place you don’t actually belong.  There are people and places that will try to exclude you and push you out and some of them might call themselves Christian.  If and when that happens, I want you to pull this verse out of the depths of your memory and remind yourself that you belong to God and that is no small thing.  It’s the biggest thing.

This reading from John 14 contains a very misused and misunderstood verse. “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.”  Jesus had been telling his disciples about a place that he had prepared for them.  They were confused about where that place was, so they asked.  Jesus answered their question by saying, “I am the way, and the truth and the life.” In doing so, he was telling them, where, isn’t the point.  All that matters is that you are with me.  Because you belong to me. You (everyone of you) belong to God.  That is no small thing. It’s the biggest thing.

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[1] Translation is Common English Bible