Sermon: Loving people is hard (April 24, 2016)

Easter 5C

April 24, 2016

Revelation 21:1-6

John 13:31-35

            This week in confirmation class, I left a few minutes at the end of class for us to play a little game I like to call, “Stump the Pastor.” That is, I let the kids ask anything they want about faith, the Bible, or anything else we had talked about in class, and see if they could stump me. One student said, “Our main commandment as Christians is to love each, right?” He was referring, of course, to the Gospel text we hear today, in which Jesus, after washing his disciples’ feet on the night of his betrayal, tells his disciples, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another… just as I have loved you.” Yes, I said, that’s what Jesus tells us. “If that’s the case,” he went on, “Then how do so many Christians justify persecuting people of other religions.” “Great question!” I said, enthusiastically, then, “Next question?” He did it. He stumped me!

            Now, of course I tried to come up with some sort of answer, but who knows if it was satisfying at all – the truth is, I didn’t know how to answer it. Since then, though, I have continued to think about it. I thought about it in terms of a bumper sticker I saw in the parking lot when I went to vote in the primary this week that said simply, “Every person matters.” I thought about it in terms of the very election I voted in, as I thought about how well the different candidates for president fulfill that most important commandment from Jesus. I even thought about it in more mundane ways, when things people did this week annoyed me. How is it, I thought, that the commandment that Jesus left with his disciples on his last night on earth, to love one another, is so very hard for us to fulfill? What is so hard about loving one another?

            Of course, love isn’t always hard. Sometimes it is a joy! At least once a day, Michael and I listen to our beautiful daughter being her chatty self and say to each other, “I love her so much!” I talk to my parents at least once a week and we always finish the phone call by telling each other, “I love you.” We even tell Klaus, our devoted Dachshund, that we love him! Loving is easy when we are loved back, or when we really like something or someone, or when there is no risk, or when it doesn’t require us to get too far out of ourselves.

            Loving is less easy when we are appalled by a person, when someone has hurt us, or when

loving someone puts us out in some way. Following this week’s primary, I heard several people say, “I wish I could have written someone in. I don’t like any of these people.” And yes, I agree that while all the candidates I’m sure have something to offer, none of them really thrills me across the board. As I thought about Jesus’ commandment this week, I tried to apply it to these five candidates. “Can you love Donald Trump? Can you love Bernie Sanders? Can you love Ted Cruz, or John Kasich, or Hillary Clinton? If you can love one of them, can you love also the one on the opposite end of the spectrum?” I don’t mean, can you agree with all of them (that would be impossible!). I mean, can you love them with Christian love? … It’s getting harder and harder to follow Jesus’ commandment!

            Sometimes we express our Christian love simply by praying for someone. How many of you here pray for yourselves sometimes? How many pray for your loved ones? How many pray for people in need around the world? How many of you pray regularly for your enemies? How many of you pray for the presidential candidates of the opposite party? How many of you pray for people who have hurt you during the course of your day – not for vengeance, but for their well-being? I heard of a poll recently that asked people what they pray for. Not surprisingly, the largest area for prayer was for

family and friends. A whopping 21% had prayed on some sort of regular basis for a winning lottery ticket! And yet, only less than 40% said they prayed with any sort of regularity for people who had hurt them, or for their enemies – even though that’s one of the specific things that Jesus does tell us to pray for.

            If praying for those we consider our enemies is hard, loving them is even harder. Loving people who are different, who believe something different, especially if that something different is at odds with what we ourselves believe – it may be Jesus’ most important commandment, but it also can be the hardest thing he asks us to do.

            And yet, I wonder if this seemingly simple command, to love one another, is what might start to bring about that new heaven and new earth that John talks about in our reading from Revelation. The book of Revelation is often thought to describe the end of the world, though John uses so much symbolism, it is perhaps dishonest to take it all literally. But all the strange creatures and symbolism aside, this vision we hear about at the end of the book, the vision of a new heaven and earth in which there will be no more crying or pain, death or mourning – that is a vision of pure hope. It is the reality that we long for, the reality we cling to in this faith. It is a vision of peace and harmony and – dare I say – love. Is it possible that we could catch a glimpse of this new reality, even today?

Suzanne Guthrie tells a story about how that might look: “Not long ago,” she writes, “I was driving to a meeting in an unfamiliar town on a rainy Saturday morning. I stopped at a red light and noticed some kind of protest happening on the street corner – a group of people wearing sandwich boards with huge lettering. Some signs said, ‘Stop Abortion,’ while others read, ‘Pro-choice’ – both interspersed with harsher messages. These passionately opposing individuals stood amidst one

another, laughing and talking and drinking steaming coffee in the cold rain. Nearby, two people wearing opposing signs embraced. Ah, I thought, see how they love one another.” [Christian Century, May 2, 2001]

Two opposing groups, both driven by their deeply held beliefs, both driven by their love for the group of people they believe they are protecting. But their love for these groups – in one case, for unborn children, and in the other, for the autonomy of pregnant women – did not keep them from also loving each other. Two people, wearing opposing signs, embrace one another – Ms. Guthrie likens this to the new heaven and new earth described in Revelation. She writes, “Here is the holy city adorned as a bride for her husband. A new heaven, a new earth, breaking forth through the rain, hidden as a sign on the street corner. See how they love one another passionately enough to embrace this moment of reconciliation and still more passionately to continue their opposing struggles on behalf of others.”

            You don’t have to agree with someone to love them, see? You don’t even really have to like someone to love them with Christian love. You remember that Jesus offers this new commandment on the night he was betrayed, denied, and deserted by his best friends – I’m betting he wasn’t too pleased with them that night, and yet he never ceases to love them, and indeed expresses in word and deed the most humbly radical sort of love. So it seems, loving someone as Jesus loves us doesn’t mean liking or approving of their actions. But it does mean seeing them as children of God who are worthy of God’s love, children of God for whom Jesus died and rose again, for whom God through Christ conquered death so that we all could live with God in eternal life. To love one another with this love is more powerful than disagreement, more powerful than disappointment, more powerful than the difficulty of forgiveness. Indeed to love someone with God’s love is more powerful than anything else on this earth.

            Let us pray… Loving God, you bid us to love one another as you love us, but in our human brokenness, we often find this difficult. Give us courage to love those we find unlovable, to see each person as a child of God who is worthy of love. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Your homework assignment: pray this week for the presidential candidate you dislike the most. Pray for their health, for their families, that they would find time to rest during this crazy time, and that they, too, would search their hearts and find a way to love even people they don't really like or are scared of.

Sermon: Baptism and the Good Shepherd (April 17, 2016)

Easter 4C

April 17, 2016

Psalm 23

Grace to you and peace from our Good Shepherd, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

            Psalm 23 is perhaps the most loved and most well-known passage in all of scripture. If I asked you to recite it for me right now, I suspect at least half of you could at least fumble your way through most of it from memory. It is recited at weddings, funerals, and is cross-stitched on wall hangings and couch pillows. If there is one passage you know by heart, this is it.

            We always hear it on this fourth Sunday of Easter because this Sunday is always deemed Good Shepherd Sunday. After hearing the excitement of Easter morning, the fear and doubt of the next Sunday, and about several of the stunning post-resurrection appearances of Jesus, today we dwell on this image of comfort: the idea of Christ as our shepherd, our guide, our provider, our

protector, our caregiver. All are very familiar, very comforting images. (There’s a reason we read this Psalm in times when we seek comfort!)

But today I’m thinking about Psalm 23 in a different light. I’m thinking about it in terms of our baptism. Today at Bethlehem, we have the joy of celebrating the baptism of Charlotte Jane, so that is of course the main reason. But we have been remembering and giving thanks for the gift of baptism throughout Easter, through a rite at the beginning of worship where we give thanks for the gift of water and all the ways God has used it to save us, God’s people. Easter, the season of new life and celebration, is a time for remembering this gift of new life that God gives to all the baptized.

But if I’m being honest, I don’t think we spend enough time, energy, thought, and prayer, remembering and giving thanks for baptism. I think most people kind of have a vague notion that they were baptized at some point, probably as an infant, but don’t spend much time thinking about that or what it means for their lives today. I asked in a sermon a few years ago how many people even remembered the date of the baptism, and precious few people did. Well, even if you don’t remember the precise date or the event, it is well worth remembering. And since Psalm 23 is something many of you do remember, today we are going to remember our baptism through the lens of Psalm 23.

Before we begin, I have an assignment for you. Turn to the Psalm in your bulletin, and look at those words once again. There is so much rich imagery in this Psalm, and so many comforting words, but I want you to pick one phrase or image that you are particularly drawn to. Do it right now (don’t worry, you can change your mind later if you want!). What phrase speaks to you the most? … Okay, now, throughout Easter, we will continue giving thanks for baptism each Sunday, and at Bethlehem we have the added benefit that in two weeks, we have another baptism, and another one a month after that, so you will have ample time to use this verse to remember your baptism. Each time we participate in this rite, I want you to view it through the lens of your verse or phrase. Do you understand the assignment? Okay, good. J

Now, today is your lucky day: I’m going to help you with the assignment. For the rest of this sermon, we will work through some of those images, and talk about what they mean for baptized people of God. Maybe you will even want to make a few notes to help you in your assignment (you didn’t know you were coming to class today, did you?).

The first image I want to lift up in this Psalm is that of abundance. We see that in several places, especially at the beginning. “I shall not want,” reminds us that with God, we have all we need,

and more. We want for nothing. God provides us food, water, shelter, protection – all we need – and in addition to those basics, the forgiveness of sins. And this is the promise we find in our baptism: that even though we do not deserve it, God assures us the forgiveness of sins, not only at the moment that water is poured on our heads, but every day thereafter, every time we ask, every time we come to this table and receive Christ’s body and blood. With this gift, the forgiveness of sins, we truly can be grateful and trust that with God as our shepherd, we do have all we could possibly need, and more. Our cup runneth over.

A second theme that presents itself is the theme of safety and protection. That is the primary purpose of a shepherd, right? To protect the sheep. Jesus tells us that the shepherd would even leave the 99 other sheep just to ensure the safety of the one sheep who has wandered away and may be in danger. The shepherd is dedicated to his sheep. And so the Psalmist tells us that with God as our Good Shepherd, we need not fear the valley of the shadow of death. The shepherd’s rod and staff – the tools used to fend off danger and pull the wayward sheep back to safety – bring comfort. Indeed, instead of evil and darkness, the Psalmist writes, goodness and mercy shall follow or “pursue” us all the days of our lives – pursue us far more ardently even than our enemies. God’s mercy and goodness will always win.

And so it is also in baptism. One of the images of baptism is that we “die to sin and rise again with Christ.” Just as Christ defeated death on that Easter morning, showing us that fear and death do not have the final word, so we, in our baptism, are brought into that promise: that death does not have the final word in our lives either. Just as the shepherd relentlessly seeks the safety and protection of his sheep, God will continually bring the baptized from death into new life – not just on the day of

Public Domain,
https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=508911

baptism, but on every single day thereafter.

I would be remiss not to finish with the promise offered in that last verse: “I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.” That, of course, is the greatest gift of all that we receive in baptism. It is the assurance that we are members of Christ’s family, claimed as daughters and sons of the living Christ, and God will never, ever let us go – not in this life, as we face the dark valleys of life, or the various beasts that would threaten our lives, and not when we prepare to enter eternal life. This promise of baptism, that we are sealed with the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ and forever, is a promise that we belong to God, and can be assured of God’s presence with us from now until eternity. That is quite a gift!

My prayer for Charlotte this day is that she always knows these things, that her baptism will not be over today, but that she will continue to see it as a sustaining part of her life. In fact, this is my prayer for all of us: that we would be grateful every day for the gifts and promises of baptism, for God’s abundance in our lives, for the forgiveness of sins, for God’s relentless protection, and for the great gift of belonging to Christ, today, tomorrow, and for all of eternity. Thanks be to God!

Let us pray… God our Good Shepherd, guide and protect us through our lives of faith as a shepherd does his sheep, reminding us at every turn in the path and in every dark valley that you love us, forgive us, protect us, sustain us, and embrace us. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: Daily conversions (April 10, 2016)

Easter 3C

April 10, 2016

Acts 9:1-20

One of the many things I’m grateful for in this life is that I got my mom’s eyesight, and not my dad’s. My mom didn’t wear glasses until she was in her 40s; my dad wore thick glasses when he was just 11 years old. He talks about the first time he put those glasses on. His whole life, he had just dealt with his blurry vision, not knowing any different. He sat in the front of class so he could see. It finally became clear that he couldn’t see when he couldn’t read a giant sign, and his parents brought him in to the doctor. The first time he put on those glasses, he says, it was this amazing moment in which suddenly, the world became clear and beautiful. What a thrill that must of have been! To suddenly see the world, the only world he had ever known, with a completely new and unexpected clarity.

Because who can resist a Dachshund
wearing glasses?

Though I have never had that moment of suddenly clarity with my eyes and the way I physically see the world, I have had similar moments in my life in which suddenly everything becomes clear. I’m sure you have as well. Sometimes they come easily and joyfully, as simple as putting on a pair of glasses. But often they come with more difficulty, because often a new realization requires you to admit your old vision or perspective was lacking in some way, if not downright wrong. It is not easy to admit to mistakes or blindness on something. Often when we are confronted with a mistake, our first inclination is to justify it. “I only said that because…” “I wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t…” We point the finger at other people or circumstances to get ourselves off the hook, being hesitant or unwilling just to say, “I didn’t know any better. I wasn’t in a good place. I was defensive and said things that were unfair or disrespectful. I have learned some things since then, and now I know better.” Admitting there was a time of weakness, a time when we might have been wrong, especially if that time was in recent history (maybe even just this morning, in an argument with your spouse!), is not something we much like to do.

But when that recognition and admittance finally happens, it usually leads to new life. In church-talk, we call this moment a “conversion of the heart.” We talk a lot about conversion of the heart during Lent (repentance is another word meaning the same thing), but it’s so important and continuous in the Christian life that here now in Easter, we are still hearing about it – now in the dramatic story of Saul’s conversion on the road to Damascus. From Saul “breathing murderous threats” against Jesus’ disciples, to his order to bind and deliver anyone he finds following “the Way,” to his dramatic encounter on the road with the disembodied voice of Jesus and being blinded by a bright light, to that famous moment when he hears the Word of God from Ananias and “something like scales” fall from his eyes, and suddenly everything becomes clear. Now called “Paul,” he is baptized and spends the rest of his days traveling and corresponding with the known world about the

"Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?"

love of Jesus, and writing what has become a good chunk of what we know as the New Testament. What a conversion story!

I don’t have a conversion story quite like that. Like many of you, I am a cradle Christian, which also has its perks, but I always wanted this dramatic come-to-Jesus moment like Paul’s encounter on the road to Damascus. But while I lack a story with quite so much drama, I am certainly not without a conversion experience – in fact, several conversion experiences – and I think you might have some, too.

Perhaps that surprises you. After all, I just said I am a cradle Christian – isn’t a conversion when you change from one faith (or no faith) to another? Certainly that is one sort, and I do know some people who have experiences of that, some more dramatic, some more intentional and thoughtful. In some pockets of Christianity, such a conversion experience might lead to being “born again,” and so-called “born-again Christians” are some of the most outwardly passionate of Christians.

But this is not the only way we are converted, and not the only way to be born again. In fact, Lutheran theologian Martin Marty talks about how we are not just born again, they are born again and again and again. Every day, we are born anew. Martin Luther says in the Small Catechism, “daily a new person is to come forth and rise up to live before God in righteousness and purity forever.” Daily! In other words, we are born again, born anew, every single day of our baptized lives! Every day we live the Easter promise that we die to sin and rise into new life with Christ. Every day, we are converted, our hearts turned toward walking a life of faithfulness with Christ.

“Daily conversion”…“Born anew” – they’re sort of strange ways of talking, right? Not phrases we use in our everyday language. So what does that actually look like in day-to-day life? Well, a conversion is any experience you have where your heart is turned away from judgment, envy, anger, pride… and instead toward compassion, love, joy, humility… In short, an experience where your heart is turned away from sin and toward Christ. It’s any time you have an “aha” moment in which you realize your previous behavior needed to change; though it may have been the best you could do at the time, you now have recognized that Christ is calling you toward a different way of living, acting, talking, being. This sort of thing can be as mundane as my experience the other day at an intersection where I routinely get annoyed that people don’t use their blinkers when they’re turning left – and then lo and behold one Sunday on my way to church I was distracted and forgot to use MY blinker! I immediately realized how judgmental I have been of other drivers, and how easy it is simply to forget something like that. Since then, I have tried to be more patient and understanding.

Or maybe your conversion is more dramatic or public than that. Recently, Speaker for the House Paul Ryan made a public apology for the way he has in the past talked about poor people in this country. He said, “There was a time that I would talk about a difference between ‘makers’ and ‘takers’ in our country, referring to people who accepted government benefits. But as I spent more time listening, and really learning the root causes of poverty, I realized something. I realized that I was wrong. ‘Takers’ wasn’t how to refer to a single mom stuck in a poverty trap, trying to take care of her family. Most people don’t want to be dependent. And to label a whole group of Americans that way was wrong. I shouldn’t castigate a large group of Americans just to make a point.” I have no idea if that realization was rooted in or driven by his faith, but it was certainly a conversion moment, a come-to-Jesus moment, in which a very powerful political figure admitted his previous blindness around a situation and turned toward the love and compassion that Jesus models and teaches. It takes guts to make such a public apology, to convert to openly!

What about you? What conversion stories do you have? Mundane (like tempering road rage),

Detail from Caravaggio's "Conversion of St. Paul"

or dramatic (like a light and disembodied voice knocking you to the ground and blinding you), or somewhere in between, what are those moments in life where you experienced “something like scales” falling from your eyes, in which you suddenly realized that your vision had been clouded by sin, judgment, resentment, baggage from your past… but now, you see more clearly?

Perhaps the more important question to ask is, what scales are currently blocking your vision, and keeping you from seeing the world through the compassionate eyes of Christ? What blindness do you currently endure, and how might God be calling you toward conversion?

God had a very important job for Saul, to share the good news of Christ with the world. This dramatic conversion experience was the first step toward Saul – Paul – fulfilling that task. Our first step toward sharing Christ’ love with the world was in our baptism, when God claimed us as His own, and empowered us with the Holy Spirit to fulfill the work of ministry. As we continue on the journey begun in baptism, we continue to be attentive to what may block our vision, trusting that Christ will always lead us toward him, toward his ways, and finally, toward eternal life.

Let us pray… God of new life, we are often blinded by our prejudice, our judgments, our sins, and our past hurts. As you did for Saul, make the scales fall from our eyes so that we would see your love and your glory, and be empowered to turn toward you and love and serve the world in your name. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Sermon: New couch, new life (April 3, 2016)

Easter 2C

April 3, 2016

John 20:19-31

Grace to you and peace from the one who is and who was and who is to come. Amen.

            This week, on Easter Monday, we bought a couch. We didn’t really mean to, or at least I didn’t. I thought we were going to check it out, consider, then maybe go back later and buy it. But we talked about how we would rearrange the living room to accommodate the new seating, how the new set-up would create a little space for Grace to play, and possibly even make room for a piano, and then I even started envisioning Grace making a fort out of the cushions of this couch, like I used to growing up… and I got all swept up in the excitement, and we bought the couch.

            But soon enough, doubt overcame my excitement. As we started putting the order in, I said, “Wait, we’re not actually buying this now, are we? What if it doesn’t work in the space after all? What it is too big? What if it’s uncomfortable? What if we hate the way it changes the flow of how we move around our living space? You realize we’ll have to change our patterns, right? Our habits are going to have to change. Do we really want to do this?” Well, we did end up buying it – but not

The couch we ordered, in roughly the same color!
(Different living room, though.)

until I had made sure that if we think it is terrible when it arrives, we have the option of sending it back. Better safe than sorry, when you’re making such a big investment that is going to really change your daily habits.

            I’ve always been this way. I’m a visionary, a dreamer, a wannabe risk-taker… but as soon as it looks like something might actually become of my dreams, I come up with all the reasons it probably won’t really work. I think to some extent, this is human nature: we are resistant to change, even as we may long for it – because we don’t want to change our daily routine, we are afraid of the unknown, we prefer to understand how things will work, and we definitely do not want to regret anything.

            I imagine that this is how the disciples felt at their post-resurrection gathering in the upper room. We often call this text “doubting Thomas,” but truthfully I think they were all experiencing some doubt here. It’s not that they didn’t believe Mary, that Jesus had really risen from the dead (though maybe that as well), but rather, they didn’t know what this would mean for their lives. They were without their beloved teacher, the one they had left everything to follow. And now they likely feared that, because they were his disciples, their lives were also in danger. They didn’t know what to do. Surely, they wished Jesus had not died, and maybe, that they had been bold enough to do something to prevent it – I imagine their conversations between Friday and Sunday were full of “if onlys” and “what ifs.” Now, according to Mary Magdelene, they have gotten what they wanted – Jesus was alive! – but instead of joy they are filled with fear, such fear that they have locked themselves away in the upper room.

            When Jesus then appears to them in that place of hiding and fear, everything changes! But even as they rejoiced that Jesus was, indeed, alive, I suspect there was still some fear there. After all, one week later, they are still in that locked upper room! But now, the cause of their fear has changed.

Jesus appears to disciples in the upper room

Before Jesus appeared to them, they feared death. They feared what had happened to Jesus and they feared that something similar might happen to them. But then Jesus comes to them, and tells them, “As the Father sent me, so I send you.” And now? Now their fear is not of death, but of this new life that they are being sent into by the Resurrected Christ.

            We talked a lot about new life last week. That’s what Easter is about, after all – all the ways that God takes the old, dead things in our lives and turns them into new opportunities, new beginnings, new perspectives. It seems like pretty good news – new things often are. New clothing, new house, new baby, new relationship – all have positive connotations.

            But not all new things are good. In fact, new things can often be frustrating or even scary, because they are unfamiliar. I mean, Michael and I really needed a new couch, but even though the prospect of a new couch excited me, it didn’t take long before the fear of the new way of using our living room put a damper on my excitement. We’ve already rearranged the room so we can get used to it before the couch comes, and I admit, the first time I came home and couldn’t put Grace’s car seat where I normally do, I thought, “Ugh, I don’t like this new set-up. It’s different. It’s not the way I’m used to living.”

            If I can be that uppity and resistant about living room furniture, just imagine how the disciples felt, hearing their once-dead-now-living teacher tell them, “Hey guys. Peace. I’m alive. And I’m here to tell you that I’m sending you out to carry on my mission in the world – you know, the mission that got me hung on a cross this weekend. Peace out.” Uh, yeah, I imagine if I were among the disciples, I would have stayed locked safely in that upper room a little longer, too. Forget Thomas’s doubt – I would definitely be doubting right about now! I would be doubting my own abilities, not to mention my own courage, to carry out this mission Jesus was giving us, doubting whether Jesus really meant to put us in such danger, doubting whether I really wanted to keep doing this, or just get back to my safe, familiar life.

            But that’s the catch about Easter, you see – after the resurrection, there is no going back to your safe, familiar life. With the resurrection, everything changes. Life can no longer be the same. Death and fear are defeated, and life becomes new.

What does that new life look like? Jesus says to the disciples gathered there, “As the Father sent me, so I send you.” In other words, that new life looks like living the way Jesus commanded and demonstrated – in fact, the way he commanded and demonstrated most powerfully just 10 days before, on Maundy Thursday, when he knelt down and washed their feet, saying to them, “I give you a new commandment, to love one another as I have loved you.” That is, love each other in a humbling, self-sacrificing way, in a way that shows that we are called to serve one another rather than one-up each other. Love one another – even those who deny they know you, or betray you, or desert you in your hour of need. Love one another. As the Father sent Jesus to love and serve the world, so does Jesus send us to love and serve the world in humility.

It’s a tall order, even an impossible one – were in not for the other gifts Jesus offers to the disciples locked in the upper room. First of all, he offers peace. Three times in this passage we hear this from Jesus: “peace be with you.” What comforting words for those of us who find the prospect of new life – especially a self-sacrificing, humble life of service – to be terrifying. Perhaps as the disciples consider what this new life will mean, they are thinking, like I did about my new couch, “Wait, we’re not actually doing this now, are we? What if it doesn’t work? What it is too big a task for us? What if it’s uncomfortable? What if we hate the way it changes the flow of how we live our lives? You realize we’ll have to change our patterns, right? Our habits are going to have to change. Do we really want to do this?” And to this fear of change and regret, Jesus offers, three times, “Peace

be with you.”

And secondly, he offers them the gift of the Holy Spirit. “He breathed on them,” John tells us, “and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’” With this gift, Jesus offers to his disciples the very same gift that God offered humanity when he breathed into Adam’s nostrils and made life come about. God’s breath has this kind of power: the power to bring to life, to comfort, to support, to sustain, to encourage, to empower. Christ breathes on his disciples – and on us – and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit,” and suddenly we have the power to fulfill his mission, to do his work in the world, despite what fears and hesitations we may have.

Peace be with you, sisters and brothers. As God the Father sent Christ into our world and our lives to show us what love and service look like, to show us that life will always overcome death, so Christ now sends us to continue giving this message to the world, offering us peace in the midst of our fear and doubt, sustaining us with his breath, and empowering us, always, with the Holy Spirit.

Let us pray… Resurrected Christ, breathe your empowering breath on us as we continue to walk into resurrected life. Come to us in our fears and our doubts and offer us your peace, and show us how to live out your gospel in all that we do. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.