Jesus is the answer
Commentary
Object:
Decades ago, Andre Crouch's chorus "Jesus Is The Answer" was sung in every corner of
evangelical Christianity. Those who wished to make fun of these supposedly simplistic
religious folk often carried banners or shouted slogans of this kind: "What's the
question?"
To say "Jesus is the answer/for the world today" may seem trite, but it is absolutely true. All three of our lectionary passages have this theme as the key element. It was the crowning testimony of Stephen as he approached death by martyrdom. It was the essence of Peter's call to faithfulness in a challenging world that would cause his readers much suffering for their beliefs in the days just ahead. And, it is the powerful comfort that Jesus gives to his disciples on the night before he died. Jesus is the answer. Maybe not all the questions are quite clear as of yet, but whatever they are, today's preaching must get to this great declaration of faith.
Acts 7:55-60
Stephen was appointed by the apostles as one of the first seven deacons of the Jerusalem congregation (Acts 6). As the community grew rapidly, its pastoral care needs multiplied, and the original twelve-person apostolic leadership team became overwhelmed. They spread the responsibilities and empowered a team of social developers with the mandate to ensure that care was provided for the Greek-speaking widows of the early Jerusalem Christian congregation. Stephen did not get to practice his ministry very long, for he quickly became the target of neighborhood anger. Stephen was multi-talented, exercising the healing powers of the Spirit and confounding those who tried to argue about the messianic identity of Jesus.
Brought to trial at the Sanhedrin because of false accusations made about him, Stephen preached a long sermon in his defense. While it is clear that Stephen was passionate about what he was saying, it is hard for us to understand why others got so upset. The homily seems meandering and lacking the gripping communication techniques of modern evangelistic preaching.
But a second reading of Stephen's sermon makes it clear that he was tracking Israel's national history and pointing out those occasions in which God worked outside the expected or prescribed system in order to bring blessing. This grated on his hearers' ears, especially in light of recent events, for their very argument against Stephen and other Jesus-followers was that God didn't work in the ways they were talking about. According to Stephen's detractors, God was predictable and the strange and unpredicted events of Jesus' ministry, including the fantastic report of his resurrection, were simply not in the divine character. When Stephen reminded the crowds of God's own track record, in which the holy one regularly operated outside of the expected human system, they were incensed. Even more so, since God's unpredictable actions came most often during those times when the Israelites had become religiously callous, and God needed to do unusual things to get their attention.
If all of this was true, then Stephen's history-lesson homily was a sharp blow to their religious egos. Hence, the cruel and vitriolic response in which they mobbed the man and stoned him to death. This was not the kind of preaching that they could stomach.
Stephen's dying testimony involves a vision of Jesus similar to that which Saul/Paul would experience a short while later as his anger at Stephen was dissolved in repentance; and like that which John would have years later on the island of Patmos, when Jesus revealed to him the messages of the Apocalypse. Then, as the stones of death are hurled at him, Stephen mirrors a lesson from his Master, and in the throws of execution turns a loving face toward his killers and speaks to them a blessing of forgiveness. Those in the crowd who were at the cross of Jesus could hardly help but see the parallels and must have been overwhelmed with the mysterious "coincidence."
This is not an easy passage to preach unless one gets into its whole story. But that requires reading, or at least telling the story, of the whole of Acts 6-7. If the homiletic text is limited to the lectionary passage for today, there are a few trigger points for message development, but they are more tangential to the text rather than essential to its literary and theological development.
First, one can use the stoning of Stephen to call the congregation to solidarity about the plight of the persecuted church. This is a good opportunity to expand the congregation's gaze beyond its own concerns and place it again in the global fellowship of the faith. If one part of the body of Christ suffers, all share the pain. This text is a fitting springboard to address that issue.
Second, the vision of Jesus that Stephen sees is a reminder that we live in a world that is incomplete when the focus is only on its physical dimensions. We are living in a universe where angels and demons dwell alongside humans and animals. We are residents of a planet that was created by God as a garden where heaven and earth could touch and interact. Only because of sin and the limitations it has brought are we able to think that the spiritual dimension of life does not exist. It is in our hubris that we pretend to be ultimate lords and masters of the universe. We make such testimonies to our own hurt. Stephen, in the moment of his death, was granted full clarity about the union of physical and spiritual and declared the true order of things. A sermon on this passage could focus on spiritual blindness and remind those who have grown too attached to the merely physical that they are growing cold to the true meaning of life. One possible illustration to use in this regard might be the story of Eustace and the dragon's cave in C. S. Lewis' Narnia tale The Voyage of the Dawntreader. In his growing attachment to the dragon's horde of gold and jewels, Eustace himself becomes a dragon. Only when Aslan (Jesus) tears open Eustace's dragon flesh in a painful scene of repentance does the boy re- emerge as son of the great creator king in whom both spiritual and physical realms find their source and meaning.
Third, Stephen's words of forgiveness are worth a sermon in themselves. Certainly the preacher must connect Stephen's prayer of grace to that of Jesus from his cross. In so doing, a natural behavior for all Christians can be espoused. The act of the master is the pattern for the disciple. In this litigious world, one of the striking features of Christian behavior, is its refusal to seek revenge and its ability to express forgiveness. Stephen is a hero of the faith and a model for others who would be faithful to the mind of Christ.
1 Peter 2:2-10
About the time that Paul was engaged in his final communications with Timothy and Titus, Peter made his own last swing through churches of northern and eastern Asia Minor. This was quite a trip for an older gentleman to take (exceeding the reach of all of Paul's journeys recorded in Acts) since Peter was based in Rome at the time. He calls it "Babylon" (1 Peter 5:13), but that was a code term already circulating throughout the Christian church, hinting at the persecutions looming from the ruler of the world in a way similar to the Babylonian pressures against Judah centuries before. It may well have been that Peter was invited to officiate at a number of large baptism ceremonies, since the tone of his first letter is that of instruction for new members to the Christian community.
Peter writes in powerful terms of the great salvation recently brought to humankind by Jesus, and irreversibly guaranteed, by way of both Jesus' resurrection and ascension, for those who believe (1 Peter 1:3-12). Then follows an extended exhortation to holy living, because these believers in Jesus are God's special people (1 Peter 1:13--2:10), who follow in the footsteps of Jesus (1 Peter 2:11--3:12), and must face, with their master, the sufferings that will fall on all his disciples in these challenging times (1 Peter 3:12--4:19). Peter gives a special word of encouragement to the elders who lead the various congregations (1 Peter 5:1-4), and then expands these words of advice to the broader community (1 Peter 5:5-11) before closing with brief personal greetings (1 Peter 5:12- 14).
The tone of Peter's letter is far darker than any of the writings of Paul. There is an ominous pall of suffering that clouds every perspective. Jesus suffered. You will suffer, if you are faithful. You must follow Jesus in and through suffering. New trials and greater suffering are coming. Whether by way of external hints or from the inner promptings of the Spirit, Peter seems to have been anticipating the sharp clout of Nero's official pogroms just ahead.
Yet through the murky shrieks and dark valleys, Peter never loses confidence in God's sovereignty or care. God is judge of evil, faithful Creator, and the chief shepherd who will soon bring untarnishing crowns of glory for those who remain true.
The human race becomes homeless in its home. We are aliens in our own environment and increasingly disconnected from God. This is the starting point for Peter's message. But it is not the end. Quickly, as Peter notes in these verses, he speaks about the unique identity that followers of Jesus claim even in an alien land. They become a building, a temple, raised on top of the great cornerstone of Jesus.
Robert Wuthnow gave a striking example of this. He remembers his first day of teaching at Princeton University. He walked into a seminar room without a class list and passed a sheet of paper around the room, asking students to write their names. When the page was returned, Wuthnow found he had received more than he had requested. Next to each person's name was an apostrophe and a two-digit number: John Alexander '76; Frederick Thompson '77; Charles Francis Lovell '76; Philip Norton III '76....
It didn't take Professor Wuthnow long to figure it out: The numbers corresponded with the year that each student expected to graduate from Princeton. "Interesting," he thought. "Once a person enrolls at Princeton he or she gains a new identity. There is a vast network of Princeton people all over the world, and they know each other by their labels - - a name and a date."
For more than two centuries it has been like that: Once you are a part of the brotherhood of Princeton, you belong. You have an identity. In fact, at the start of each school year, Princeton people gather from the far reaches of travel for the annual "P-rade." Banners are lifted for each year of the past, the present, and the future, and Princeton people march proudly in their regiments, forming links in a chain forged year by year at this, their alma mater.
The term alma mater originated in the ancient Greek legends of Ceres and Cybele. These women, according to the storytellers, gathered homeless and sick children and mothered them back to life, loved them back to health, and gave them a place in society with a name and an identity. The Greeks called Ceres and Cybele fostering mothers -- alma maters.
It is with that in mind that Princeton people march each year under the banner of their alma mater. Princeton has mothered them into a common life.
Wuthnow reflected on this fascinating expression of our human need. It reminds us, he said, how important it is for each of us to gain an identity. We need to know who we are, not just within ourselves, but also in the context of a social system that matters. In fact, when Wuthnow conducted extensive surveys, he found that roughly 90% of all people give their highest priority and most energy in life to the task of "finding themselves" and then projecting a unique personal identity.
Our obsession with personal identity is betrayed by the manner in which we introduce ourselves. We want people to know our names. We tell them what work we do or what successes we have accomplished. We trace our family roots and community backgrounds. All of this becomes a statement of who we are.
Wuthnow also said that, unfortunately, most of us never do become fully aware of who we are. Inside we carry about with us great insecurities. We secretly believe that we project more than we can deliver, and that much of our public persona is deceitful.
For that reason we keep searching for alma maters, "fostering mothers" who will take us in, and dress our egos, and give us names of significance. We run, said Wuthnow, from this possession to that career, from this title to that university degree, from this accomplishment to that social club, hoping that somewhere among them we can find the mother who will tell us who we truly are.
That is why labels are important to us. Generic brands may be fine for toilet paper and canned soup, but humans need a product stamp that restores their sense of holy self. Such is the case with Peter's words in today's lectionary passage. Heaping up quotations and allusions from the Old Testament, Peter equates the New Testament church with the identity forged by God for Israel. Because of Jesus Christ, all who find their identity in him are now the new assembly of God.
John 14:1-14
These are some of the most well known of Jesus' words. They are part of the marvelous "Farewell Discourse" of Jesus (for a great treatment of this discourse see The Literary Development of John 13-17: A Chiastic Reading, published by SBL in 2000), in which Jesus binds his disciples closely to himself on the eve of his death. The lectionary reading provides comfort in the knowledge that we are not orphans in the universe, for Jesus is going "home" to bring us "home" one day with him. Furthermore, in his brief dialogue with Thomas, Jesus declares himself to be "the way, the truth and the life," a cryptic phrase that signals access to the blessings of eternity as occurring only through a spiritual connectedness with Jesus himself. And in Jesus' response to Philip's question, John reinforces the divinity of Jesus that is intrinsically intertwined with the very essence of the creator God worshiped from time immemorial by the Hebrew/Jewish people.
But a good sermon can focus only on one major theme. The primary emotional impact of the passage is on its assurance of comfort in the face of death, Jesus' own and also ours.
A friend of mine was awakened suddenly on a Saturday morning by a telephone call across three time zones. His brother had been injured and was hospitalized in the critical care unit with a cracked skull and a swelling brain. My friend langored in helplessness. No airplane could get him to his brother's side before either the injury might prove fatal or the swelling would subside and the emergency pass. Enforced patience drummed him with nervous fret, a burden he did not want to bear.
Our world is imperfect, with corners that bump knees and scorpions that poison hands. We get lonely, we get pained; we struggle to survive and are old in body before our youthful ideals get a chance to catch up. We try to find a little comfort and come away addicted to work or booze or drugs or sex; always far short of heaven.
The patience of waiting is tied to our understanding of how time will get resolved into eternity. If there is no God outside the system, we are stuck with cycles of repetition, crushed beneath recurring tasks and tedium that never ends. But if there is a God who has promised to interrupt history with healing and hope and harmony, we wait with expectation.
My friend's brother died from his head injuries. Now my friend waits for the return of Jesus. He is confident that then he will see his brother again in the mansions of the Father, according to the promises Jesus makes here. Without that promise he could not be patient. In an impatient world, his is a remarkable hope. A religious hope.
Application
Each of us is asked, now and again, to introduce ourselves. Our typical responses involve names, jobs, achievements, home addresses, and/or family. Perhaps because we live in a world dominated by Christian churches and heritage, we don't often include our relationship with God in the mix. But the passages for today demand that we learn to think about our connection with Jesus as primary, above all other identifying marks. If this can be communicated in the homily for today, it will resonate with all three readings.
Alternative Application
John 14:1-14. The words of Jesus in John 14 are so marvelous and so rich that they easily command treatment on their own. One powerful theme to use is the idea of emigration/immigration. Someone who leaves her current country for another needs to know the means of access, the source of hospitality in the future country, and the porters or friends who will help to make the journey. In Jesus' words to his disciples, he is the source of all these things. Using video clips from a documentary like God Grew Tired of Us (2006), about the lost boys of the Sudan, may well bring the point home in a powerful way, and provide connections that link directly to the religious core of the congregation's identity.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16
In a bookshelf in my living room sits a testimony to change. On the bottom shelf is a row of 45 rpm records. Among them are greats by Gene Pitney, the Beach Boys, and the Beatles. On the next shelf resides several rows of 33 1/3 rpm record albums. Among these are collections by such greats as Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, and a dizzying assortment of one-album wonders. Above that shelf are a few old 8-track tapes. Remember those? The labels have long since peeled away from these and who knows what music is hidden inside? Yet another shelf reveals scores of cassette tapes, many of which are personal mix tapes including favorite tunes recorded to suit certain moods and times of life. Then, of course, come the CDs. But they too have fallen away as I plug in my MP3 player, which contains a full 100 days' worth of continuous music.
In what feels like a few short years, the change within the music medium has been tectonic. The pace of it is dizzying, and it shows no signs of slowing down any time soon. It seems that much of life is changing at the same rate as the technology we use to listen to music. Everything is changing. Fashions, employment, housing, even the church! All of it is shifting and moving quicker than most can even perceive.
It's in the midst of the storms of change that the words to the old Lutheran hymn emerge. "A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing!" Taken from this psalm, these words call us to claim that which will not go away. Through the vapors of a fickle culture we cling to the rock which is our God. Above the squabble and bickering of ideology and politics, we climb upon the rock that is our God.
As we look to this solid rock for safety and security, for something solid in the storm, it seems funny that Jesus used this same language to describe Peter (Matthew 16:18). Volatile, uneven, and finally a betrayer, Peter gets to be a rock as well. Herein is a hint of the possibilities that await us.
There is no doubt that God is our rock and our salvation. There is no questioning that this is the refuge to which we cling, but in Christ Jesus there is the possibility of partnership in and with this rock. It is no accident that Jesus called Peter the rock, and for us it is a hint of our own salvation.
If Peter can rise above his failure to be a foundation stone for the church, what might be possible for you and me? How is it that the unmoving, unmovable love of God can move in and transform us so that we too might be foundation stones for the building of the kingdom?
In this time of new life and new hope such questions are worth pondering. Such possibilities are worth embracing.
To say "Jesus is the answer/for the world today" may seem trite, but it is absolutely true. All three of our lectionary passages have this theme as the key element. It was the crowning testimony of Stephen as he approached death by martyrdom. It was the essence of Peter's call to faithfulness in a challenging world that would cause his readers much suffering for their beliefs in the days just ahead. And, it is the powerful comfort that Jesus gives to his disciples on the night before he died. Jesus is the answer. Maybe not all the questions are quite clear as of yet, but whatever they are, today's preaching must get to this great declaration of faith.
Acts 7:55-60
Stephen was appointed by the apostles as one of the first seven deacons of the Jerusalem congregation (Acts 6). As the community grew rapidly, its pastoral care needs multiplied, and the original twelve-person apostolic leadership team became overwhelmed. They spread the responsibilities and empowered a team of social developers with the mandate to ensure that care was provided for the Greek-speaking widows of the early Jerusalem Christian congregation. Stephen did not get to practice his ministry very long, for he quickly became the target of neighborhood anger. Stephen was multi-talented, exercising the healing powers of the Spirit and confounding those who tried to argue about the messianic identity of Jesus.
Brought to trial at the Sanhedrin because of false accusations made about him, Stephen preached a long sermon in his defense. While it is clear that Stephen was passionate about what he was saying, it is hard for us to understand why others got so upset. The homily seems meandering and lacking the gripping communication techniques of modern evangelistic preaching.
But a second reading of Stephen's sermon makes it clear that he was tracking Israel's national history and pointing out those occasions in which God worked outside the expected or prescribed system in order to bring blessing. This grated on his hearers' ears, especially in light of recent events, for their very argument against Stephen and other Jesus-followers was that God didn't work in the ways they were talking about. According to Stephen's detractors, God was predictable and the strange and unpredicted events of Jesus' ministry, including the fantastic report of his resurrection, were simply not in the divine character. When Stephen reminded the crowds of God's own track record, in which the holy one regularly operated outside of the expected human system, they were incensed. Even more so, since God's unpredictable actions came most often during those times when the Israelites had become religiously callous, and God needed to do unusual things to get their attention.
If all of this was true, then Stephen's history-lesson homily was a sharp blow to their religious egos. Hence, the cruel and vitriolic response in which they mobbed the man and stoned him to death. This was not the kind of preaching that they could stomach.
Stephen's dying testimony involves a vision of Jesus similar to that which Saul/Paul would experience a short while later as his anger at Stephen was dissolved in repentance; and like that which John would have years later on the island of Patmos, when Jesus revealed to him the messages of the Apocalypse. Then, as the stones of death are hurled at him, Stephen mirrors a lesson from his Master, and in the throws of execution turns a loving face toward his killers and speaks to them a blessing of forgiveness. Those in the crowd who were at the cross of Jesus could hardly help but see the parallels and must have been overwhelmed with the mysterious "coincidence."
This is not an easy passage to preach unless one gets into its whole story. But that requires reading, or at least telling the story, of the whole of Acts 6-7. If the homiletic text is limited to the lectionary passage for today, there are a few trigger points for message development, but they are more tangential to the text rather than essential to its literary and theological development.
First, one can use the stoning of Stephen to call the congregation to solidarity about the plight of the persecuted church. This is a good opportunity to expand the congregation's gaze beyond its own concerns and place it again in the global fellowship of the faith. If one part of the body of Christ suffers, all share the pain. This text is a fitting springboard to address that issue.
Second, the vision of Jesus that Stephen sees is a reminder that we live in a world that is incomplete when the focus is only on its physical dimensions. We are living in a universe where angels and demons dwell alongside humans and animals. We are residents of a planet that was created by God as a garden where heaven and earth could touch and interact. Only because of sin and the limitations it has brought are we able to think that the spiritual dimension of life does not exist. It is in our hubris that we pretend to be ultimate lords and masters of the universe. We make such testimonies to our own hurt. Stephen, in the moment of his death, was granted full clarity about the union of physical and spiritual and declared the true order of things. A sermon on this passage could focus on spiritual blindness and remind those who have grown too attached to the merely physical that they are growing cold to the true meaning of life. One possible illustration to use in this regard might be the story of Eustace and the dragon's cave in C. S. Lewis' Narnia tale The Voyage of the Dawntreader. In his growing attachment to the dragon's horde of gold and jewels, Eustace himself becomes a dragon. Only when Aslan (Jesus) tears open Eustace's dragon flesh in a painful scene of repentance does the boy re- emerge as son of the great creator king in whom both spiritual and physical realms find their source and meaning.
Third, Stephen's words of forgiveness are worth a sermon in themselves. Certainly the preacher must connect Stephen's prayer of grace to that of Jesus from his cross. In so doing, a natural behavior for all Christians can be espoused. The act of the master is the pattern for the disciple. In this litigious world, one of the striking features of Christian behavior, is its refusal to seek revenge and its ability to express forgiveness. Stephen is a hero of the faith and a model for others who would be faithful to the mind of Christ.
1 Peter 2:2-10
About the time that Paul was engaged in his final communications with Timothy and Titus, Peter made his own last swing through churches of northern and eastern Asia Minor. This was quite a trip for an older gentleman to take (exceeding the reach of all of Paul's journeys recorded in Acts) since Peter was based in Rome at the time. He calls it "Babylon" (1 Peter 5:13), but that was a code term already circulating throughout the Christian church, hinting at the persecutions looming from the ruler of the world in a way similar to the Babylonian pressures against Judah centuries before. It may well have been that Peter was invited to officiate at a number of large baptism ceremonies, since the tone of his first letter is that of instruction for new members to the Christian community.
Peter writes in powerful terms of the great salvation recently brought to humankind by Jesus, and irreversibly guaranteed, by way of both Jesus' resurrection and ascension, for those who believe (1 Peter 1:3-12). Then follows an extended exhortation to holy living, because these believers in Jesus are God's special people (1 Peter 1:13--2:10), who follow in the footsteps of Jesus (1 Peter 2:11--3:12), and must face, with their master, the sufferings that will fall on all his disciples in these challenging times (1 Peter 3:12--4:19). Peter gives a special word of encouragement to the elders who lead the various congregations (1 Peter 5:1-4), and then expands these words of advice to the broader community (1 Peter 5:5-11) before closing with brief personal greetings (1 Peter 5:12- 14).
The tone of Peter's letter is far darker than any of the writings of Paul. There is an ominous pall of suffering that clouds every perspective. Jesus suffered. You will suffer, if you are faithful. You must follow Jesus in and through suffering. New trials and greater suffering are coming. Whether by way of external hints or from the inner promptings of the Spirit, Peter seems to have been anticipating the sharp clout of Nero's official pogroms just ahead.
Yet through the murky shrieks and dark valleys, Peter never loses confidence in God's sovereignty or care. God is judge of evil, faithful Creator, and the chief shepherd who will soon bring untarnishing crowns of glory for those who remain true.
The human race becomes homeless in its home. We are aliens in our own environment and increasingly disconnected from God. This is the starting point for Peter's message. But it is not the end. Quickly, as Peter notes in these verses, he speaks about the unique identity that followers of Jesus claim even in an alien land. They become a building, a temple, raised on top of the great cornerstone of Jesus.
Robert Wuthnow gave a striking example of this. He remembers his first day of teaching at Princeton University. He walked into a seminar room without a class list and passed a sheet of paper around the room, asking students to write their names. When the page was returned, Wuthnow found he had received more than he had requested. Next to each person's name was an apostrophe and a two-digit number: John Alexander '76; Frederick Thompson '77; Charles Francis Lovell '76; Philip Norton III '76....
It didn't take Professor Wuthnow long to figure it out: The numbers corresponded with the year that each student expected to graduate from Princeton. "Interesting," he thought. "Once a person enrolls at Princeton he or she gains a new identity. There is a vast network of Princeton people all over the world, and they know each other by their labels - - a name and a date."
For more than two centuries it has been like that: Once you are a part of the brotherhood of Princeton, you belong. You have an identity. In fact, at the start of each school year, Princeton people gather from the far reaches of travel for the annual "P-rade." Banners are lifted for each year of the past, the present, and the future, and Princeton people march proudly in their regiments, forming links in a chain forged year by year at this, their alma mater.
The term alma mater originated in the ancient Greek legends of Ceres and Cybele. These women, according to the storytellers, gathered homeless and sick children and mothered them back to life, loved them back to health, and gave them a place in society with a name and an identity. The Greeks called Ceres and Cybele fostering mothers -- alma maters.
It is with that in mind that Princeton people march each year under the banner of their alma mater. Princeton has mothered them into a common life.
Wuthnow reflected on this fascinating expression of our human need. It reminds us, he said, how important it is for each of us to gain an identity. We need to know who we are, not just within ourselves, but also in the context of a social system that matters. In fact, when Wuthnow conducted extensive surveys, he found that roughly 90% of all people give their highest priority and most energy in life to the task of "finding themselves" and then projecting a unique personal identity.
Our obsession with personal identity is betrayed by the manner in which we introduce ourselves. We want people to know our names. We tell them what work we do or what successes we have accomplished. We trace our family roots and community backgrounds. All of this becomes a statement of who we are.
Wuthnow also said that, unfortunately, most of us never do become fully aware of who we are. Inside we carry about with us great insecurities. We secretly believe that we project more than we can deliver, and that much of our public persona is deceitful.
For that reason we keep searching for alma maters, "fostering mothers" who will take us in, and dress our egos, and give us names of significance. We run, said Wuthnow, from this possession to that career, from this title to that university degree, from this accomplishment to that social club, hoping that somewhere among them we can find the mother who will tell us who we truly are.
That is why labels are important to us. Generic brands may be fine for toilet paper and canned soup, but humans need a product stamp that restores their sense of holy self. Such is the case with Peter's words in today's lectionary passage. Heaping up quotations and allusions from the Old Testament, Peter equates the New Testament church with the identity forged by God for Israel. Because of Jesus Christ, all who find their identity in him are now the new assembly of God.
John 14:1-14
These are some of the most well known of Jesus' words. They are part of the marvelous "Farewell Discourse" of Jesus (for a great treatment of this discourse see The Literary Development of John 13-17: A Chiastic Reading, published by SBL in 2000), in which Jesus binds his disciples closely to himself on the eve of his death. The lectionary reading provides comfort in the knowledge that we are not orphans in the universe, for Jesus is going "home" to bring us "home" one day with him. Furthermore, in his brief dialogue with Thomas, Jesus declares himself to be "the way, the truth and the life," a cryptic phrase that signals access to the blessings of eternity as occurring only through a spiritual connectedness with Jesus himself. And in Jesus' response to Philip's question, John reinforces the divinity of Jesus that is intrinsically intertwined with the very essence of the creator God worshiped from time immemorial by the Hebrew/Jewish people.
But a good sermon can focus only on one major theme. The primary emotional impact of the passage is on its assurance of comfort in the face of death, Jesus' own and also ours.
A friend of mine was awakened suddenly on a Saturday morning by a telephone call across three time zones. His brother had been injured and was hospitalized in the critical care unit with a cracked skull and a swelling brain. My friend langored in helplessness. No airplane could get him to his brother's side before either the injury might prove fatal or the swelling would subside and the emergency pass. Enforced patience drummed him with nervous fret, a burden he did not want to bear.
Our world is imperfect, with corners that bump knees and scorpions that poison hands. We get lonely, we get pained; we struggle to survive and are old in body before our youthful ideals get a chance to catch up. We try to find a little comfort and come away addicted to work or booze or drugs or sex; always far short of heaven.
The patience of waiting is tied to our understanding of how time will get resolved into eternity. If there is no God outside the system, we are stuck with cycles of repetition, crushed beneath recurring tasks and tedium that never ends. But if there is a God who has promised to interrupt history with healing and hope and harmony, we wait with expectation.
My friend's brother died from his head injuries. Now my friend waits for the return of Jesus. He is confident that then he will see his brother again in the mansions of the Father, according to the promises Jesus makes here. Without that promise he could not be patient. In an impatient world, his is a remarkable hope. A religious hope.
Application
Each of us is asked, now and again, to introduce ourselves. Our typical responses involve names, jobs, achievements, home addresses, and/or family. Perhaps because we live in a world dominated by Christian churches and heritage, we don't often include our relationship with God in the mix. But the passages for today demand that we learn to think about our connection with Jesus as primary, above all other identifying marks. If this can be communicated in the homily for today, it will resonate with all three readings.
Alternative Application
John 14:1-14. The words of Jesus in John 14 are so marvelous and so rich that they easily command treatment on their own. One powerful theme to use is the idea of emigration/immigration. Someone who leaves her current country for another needs to know the means of access, the source of hospitality in the future country, and the porters or friends who will help to make the journey. In Jesus' words to his disciples, he is the source of all these things. Using video clips from a documentary like God Grew Tired of Us (2006), about the lost boys of the Sudan, may well bring the point home in a powerful way, and provide connections that link directly to the religious core of the congregation's identity.
Preaching The Psalm
Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16
In a bookshelf in my living room sits a testimony to change. On the bottom shelf is a row of 45 rpm records. Among them are greats by Gene Pitney, the Beach Boys, and the Beatles. On the next shelf resides several rows of 33 1/3 rpm record albums. Among these are collections by such greats as Bob Dylan, Jimi Hendrix, and a dizzying assortment of one-album wonders. Above that shelf are a few old 8-track tapes. Remember those? The labels have long since peeled away from these and who knows what music is hidden inside? Yet another shelf reveals scores of cassette tapes, many of which are personal mix tapes including favorite tunes recorded to suit certain moods and times of life. Then, of course, come the CDs. But they too have fallen away as I plug in my MP3 player, which contains a full 100 days' worth of continuous music.
In what feels like a few short years, the change within the music medium has been tectonic. The pace of it is dizzying, and it shows no signs of slowing down any time soon. It seems that much of life is changing at the same rate as the technology we use to listen to music. Everything is changing. Fashions, employment, housing, even the church! All of it is shifting and moving quicker than most can even perceive.
It's in the midst of the storms of change that the words to the old Lutheran hymn emerge. "A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing!" Taken from this psalm, these words call us to claim that which will not go away. Through the vapors of a fickle culture we cling to the rock which is our God. Above the squabble and bickering of ideology and politics, we climb upon the rock that is our God.
As we look to this solid rock for safety and security, for something solid in the storm, it seems funny that Jesus used this same language to describe Peter (Matthew 16:18). Volatile, uneven, and finally a betrayer, Peter gets to be a rock as well. Herein is a hint of the possibilities that await us.
There is no doubt that God is our rock and our salvation. There is no questioning that this is the refuge to which we cling, but in Christ Jesus there is the possibility of partnership in and with this rock. It is no accident that Jesus called Peter the rock, and for us it is a hint of our own salvation.
If Peter can rise above his failure to be a foundation stone for the church, what might be possible for you and me? How is it that the unmoving, unmovable love of God can move in and transform us so that we too might be foundation stones for the building of the kingdom?
In this time of new life and new hope such questions are worth pondering. Such possibilities are worth embracing.
