Ash Wednesday
February 14, 2018
John 10:1-18
INTRODUCTION
Normally
when we hear today’s passage, it is divorced from its context, that is, from
the sign that appears just before this that precipitates Jesus discourse. But
this time around, we are hearing it in relative sequence – the context was this
past Sunday’s reading. Anyone remember the story we heard on Sunday? It was
about the man who was born blind, whom Jesus healed and no one could make any
sense of it. The formerly blind man’s friends don’t even recognize him now that
he can see. The Pharisees are put out by Jesus having healed on the Sabbath,
saying he is a sinner. The formerly blind man insists that Jesus can’t be a
sinner if he can heal like that, and the Jewish authorities kick the man out of
the synagogue. It’s a story of being in, and being out, a story of what it
means to be blind, or to see, and a story of how resistant we can be to someone
offering something different from what we have always known to be true.
So now, what we’re about to hear is
the discourse that follows that sign and the people’s reaction to it. Jesus
will offer us some familiar images, calling himself the Door (which is
translated here as Gate, to fit better with the pastoral imagery) and then the
Good Shepherd, but let us remember as we hear them the context to which he
offers them: a man has received his sight, but been thrown out of his
community, the bystanders aren’t sure what to make of someone completely
shifting their worldview, and the Pharisees have just been told that although
they think they can see, they in fact still live in sin (which for John mean,
they lack an abiding relationship with Jesus). Now, let’s hear what Jesus has
to say about that. Please rise for the Gospel acclamation.
[READ]
Grace
to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
A friend of
mine from high school spent a year studying aboard in Brazil. My mom had been
sort of a mentor to him, and so to thank her for helping him see some of his
potential, he brought her a gift from Brazil. It was a photograph he had taken
of a door. It wasn’t especially beautiful or ornate, but it was stunning in its
color, its ruggedness, and in the fact that it did not seal very well so you
could see the light shining around it. As I’m imagining it, I remember it maybe
even being slightly ajar. When I picture the image of that door in my mind’s
eye, the word that comes to mind is: possibility.
Perhaps that
image is responsible for my intrigue with doors. Beautiful or plain, large or
small, rugged or ornate, they all carry that same potential – when you walk
through them, you walk into something different. For better or worse, what you
find on the other side of the door is different from where you currently are.
Inside to outside, narthex to sanctuary, hallway to classroom, cold to warm, dark
to light… I often stand outside my kids’ bedroom door (they share a room), and
listen to them talking together in their toddler gibberish, realizing that on
the other side of that closed door they are in their own world, where they play
games and have conversations to which only they are privy… and then I walk
through the door and they greet me with their beautiful grins and welcome me
into their world.
Walking through a door always brings
with it that potential of walking into something new and amazing.
In today’s
Gospel reading, we might be focused on the known and loved good shepherd image.
But before Jesus calls himself the good shepherd, he calls himself the door, or
the gate. He calls himself that thing by which one enter into a new
possibility, a new reality. “I am the door,” he says. “Whoever enters by me
will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture.” And then he goes
on to explain what it means to be saved: “I
came that they may have life and have it abundantly.”
It’s what
we’ve been hearing from Jesus since he turned that water into wine even before
his ministry began. When Jesus is involved, there is abundance. There is life.
There is the possibility of walking through a door, and entering something new,
abundant, and life-giving.
There is a
particular church in the South Bronx – in a neighborhood that is high crime,
and high poverty, a “bad” neighborhood. The church is located below street
level. They never finished construction on the church building; they just
roofed over the basement, and all that appears on the street is: a door. To
some, perhaps that is all that it is – just a door – but to others, it is a
very special door. For when you enter that door, you leave the peril of the
street life, and you enter into a different realm: a realm in which people have
identities, where they are called by name, where there is compassion and mutual
support. You leave the high-tension street environment, and go into a reality
of love. That door is much more than a door. It is an entry-point into a
different life.
Jesus said, “I am the door.” There it
is.
I find this door
image to be an incredibly powerful one for us as we begin this Lenten season. A
moment ago you came forward and heard those words, “Remember that you are dust
and to dust you shall return,” as an ashen cross was traced over the oil cross
you received at baptism. That’s pretty profound. I mean think about it, you
willingly came up here and let me say to your face, “You are dirt,” and then smudge
that reality across your forehead. Your willingness to do that tells me that in
your soul you know something very important: that the only way you can ever
have abundant and eternal life, is Jesus. That the only hope you have is to
step through The Door that is our Lord. That if you truly want to live life
abundantly, you must walk through that Door, again and again.
Today, on
Ash Wednesday, we stand on the doorstep. We have gotten this far. This season
of Lent is a time when we focus on what it will take to step on through the
doorway. The mood and practices of the Lenten season make space to do that: It
is a time when we lament and grieve where we have fallen short of our calling
as disciples of Christ. It is a time when we repent of these shortcomings, and
return to God who is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in
steadfast love. It is a time when we keep our focus on the cross. All of these
things help us know how to take that step through the Door.
As I
mentioned before, this whole exchange about Jesus being the door happens by way
of explanation of his healing the man blind from birth. How perfect that we are
beginning our Lenten journey this year with a healing story, since our focus
this year is on healing and wholeness. When we hear Jesus say, “I came that
they may have life and have it abundantly,” we must think about that formerly
blind man. For him, the healing he craved that would offer him abundant life
was to be able to see. It compels us to think for ourselves: what sort of
healing do I crave? What sort of healing would help me to live into the
abundant life that Jesus came to give? Or said another way, what brokenness is
keeping me from walking through that door? What brokenness keeps me from having
as full and abiding relationship with God as I could? In the coming days and
weeks, I hope you will join me in reflecting on these questions for yourself,
and seeking during these 40 days how you might find healing in whatever
brokenness you experience, whether it is of body, mind or spirit. Could it be
healing in an important relationship? Could it be deepening your prayer life?
Could the healing you seek be in the form of more gratitude or generosity in
your life? Or in seeking forgiveness for yourself or someone who has hurt you?
Christ came
that we would have life and have it abundantly. Let us walk through the Door this
Lenten season, following in the way of our Good Shepherd, so that we might also
walk into the newness of the whole, healthy, and abundant life that God
promises us in love.
Let us pray…
Christ, our Door, we stand at your
doorstep, eager to step into the abundant life you offer. Be with us in this
Lenten season, showing us the way toward health and wholeness. In the name of
the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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