Easter 5A
May 10, 2020
John 14:1-14,
Acts 7:55-60, Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16, 1 Peter 2:2-10
INTRODUCTION
On this 5th Sunday of Easter, we will hear a lot about rocks. First, in Acts, we’ll hear the story of the stoning of Stephen, the first Christian martyr. His ministry role was to bring food to widows, which seems benign enough but somehow this upset people. Notice that Saul, who will become St. Paul, makes an appearance in this story. In response to that reading, the Psalm identifies God as our strong rock and safe castle. Positive rock image. And 1 Peter follows suit, reminding us that Christ is the cornerstone, and calling us to be like living stones. So we get some bad images of rocks – as a weapon, an instrument of death. And some good ones – as refuge, strength, stability and comfort.
The Gospel doesn’t offer us any explicit rocks, but you may see more metaphorical ones, perhaps that line a pathway (a Way that is Jesus), and the type that weigh down our hearts when we are grieving. Today’s text takes us back to Holy Week, to the night of Jesus’ arrest, as he is gathered with his disciples to wash their feet, share a meal, bid them farewell, and pray for them. This is a text often read at funerals, and with good reason: Jesus’ words are comforting ones for a group of people who, though they don’t know exactly what will happen next, they are tasting a sort of grief, knowing as they do that everything they have known is about to change. Boy, that hits close to home!
There are so many comforting images in today’s texts, rocks and otherwise – solid rocks, places of refuge, hope for eternal life, the promise of an abiding place with Jesus. And although we share a common grief right now, we also each carry our own personal griefs. As you listen today, listen for what image or word of comfort or solace speaks to you and your needs in this time, this week. Let’s listen.
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Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Risen Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
If you are friends with me on Facebook, you may have noticed: this week has not been an easy one for me. I am feeling the weight of the world, just like everyone, and the weight of all the big decisions that have to be made: when in-person worship will be possible again and what it will look like is hot on my mind right now, and more personally, the questions of when and whether to send the kids back to school and daycare, what our personal finances will look like in the coming months and how we will make everything work. In addition, like Jesus’ disciples who are experiencing an anticipatory grief in our Gospel lesson today, as they know things are about to change but they know not yet how, my heart has ached this week with the realization about just how much of what brings me joy will not be returning nearly as soon as I had expected it to.
The weight of all of this came crashing down on me on Tuesday night. As I sat weeping alone on my couch, feeling devastated and desperate, I got that feeling like stones were crowding into my heart. You know the one? Like the weight of everything was in fact in the form of these large rocks in my chest. For all of the positive rock imagery in our texts this morning, I found myself thinking about those bad rocks in Acts – not the cornerstone of 1 Peter, not the stronghold of the Psalm, but the stones that cause destruction and pain, even death.
All of this got me thinking about a wonderful children’s book we borrowed from the St. Paul’s library a while back. It’s called Adriana’s Angels. It’s about a Colombian girl who is watched over by two angels, Milagros (miracle) and Alegria (joy). Adriana and her family have to leave Colombia as refugees and come to Chicago, and it is an understandably difficult transition for young Adriana. As kids make fun of her, she starts to develop sharp stones in her heart. The two angels are always listening for God’s advice (and God always knows the very best things to say!). So while Adriana sleeps, the angels whisper messages from God in her ear. As they whisper, all those sharp stones start to fall out of her heart. I’ve been picturing that particular illustration, the one with her sleeping, one arm dangling off her bed, and all the stones falling out of her heart, and the peacefulness she then finds.
Maybe you’re wondering, well what did they whisper? How did the stones fall out? Here is what God had the angels whisper in Adriana’s ear: “You are still riding in God’s strong hand. You are right at home.”
Oh man – that turns my mind toward so many of those comforting images in our other readings. “You are still riding in God’s strong hand.” Suddenly, I’m brought away from those harmful stones of Acts, and find myself instead in the Psalm: “Be my strong rock, a castle to keep me safe… Into your hand I commend my spirit… My times are in your hand; rescue me from the hand of my enemy.”
Now, a quick word about reading Psalms: don’t fall into the trap of thinking that “the enemy” is another person. While it may be, the enemy is far more often sin itself – that is, the enemy is anything at all that causes us to focus on that which is not-God. And in this time of fear and uncertainty, of loss and grief, of longing and loneliness, it is very easy to slip into that abyss, and to forget that God does hold us in His strong hand. Our times are in God’s hand, and a prayer to save us from the hand of these particular enemies is a timely one indeed! Be my strong rock, O God! Into your hand, I commend my spirit!
And that second part of the angels’ whispering, “You are right at home,” drops us right down into the Gospel lesson. “Do not let your heart be troubled,” Jesus says. “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you?” Prepare a place for us – a home, right with God! The translation we read says “dwelling places,” but the word for dwelling in Greek has the same root as the one Jesus uses to talk about “abiding,” which for the evangelist John, is what it means to have faith: to abide with Jesus. To rest, to dwell, to find your home with Jesus. To have relationship with Jesus. So in these words to the disciples, Jesus is promising, “You will always have a home, a place to abide, with me. We’ll make sure of that!”
So, it sounds like pretty good news, right, for Jesus to tell us this… but I gotta say, I am so grateful that the disciples ask some questions. They’re not on board right away, they’re not immediately comforted by his words because guess what? Grief is hard, and it has a strong grip, and it does not suddenly dissipate with a single word, even a word from God’s own Son. And just reading these words was not enough to shake me out of my despair this week. Of course, I know, I know, God is my rock, Jesus is the cornerstone, I believe that, but I am still really sad, and through my bleary, tear-filled eyes I can’t always see right away how to get out of that grief place. With Philip, I ask, “I can’t see God. Where is the Father? Show me the Father!” And with Thomas I ask, “How can we know the way through this?”
And of course Jesus’ response is one of the most famous lines in the Bible: “I am the way, and the truth and the life.” Leave it to Jesus to speak in riddles in such a visceral moment! And indeed, this statement, Jesus’ final “I AM” statement, has been dramatically misinterpreted over the years to mean exclusion for anyone who doesn’t follow Jesus. In fact this, like all the other I AM statements, is meant as a word of promise, signaling Jesus as the very source of life and abundance and grace, and the very presence of God. In other words, Thomas wants to know the way to the heart of God, and Jesus says, “You’re looking at it. You’ve already found it. You already believe in me, you are already in relationship with me, you already abide with me. We’re in this together, and I’ve got you.”
Sisters and brothers in Christ, whatever particular challenges you are going through right now, whatever sharp stones may be weighing down your heart, whatever questions you have that may keep you from immediately grabbing hold right away of the strong rock and cornerstone that is our God, be assured of this: You are still riding in God’s strong hand. With God, you are right at home. You are safe, and secure, and whether or not you feel like “you’ve got this” (whatever challenge “this” is for you), the truth is: whether or not you’ve got this, God has got you. And will never let you go.
Let us pray… Come, our way, our truth, our life. Hold us in your strong hand, and help us to make our home in you. Remove the sharp stones from our hearts, that we would put our trust in you, our refuge and strength. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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