A Time to Wait

May 12, 2024May 12, 2024 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “A Time to Wait” Acts 1:1-11

for all the Moms out there

Waiting isn’t easy. Just ask any Mom. She waited through nine months of pregnancy. The first trimester brought big changes. Breasts tender. Taste and smell heightened. Early morning nausea. Hormone-induced mood swings, headaches, and even acne. Don’t forget the digestive challenges – bloating, gas, and constipation.

The second trimester was better. But, oh, the appetite! Eating for two or sending the spouse out for late-night ice cream and pickles. The leg cramps, stuffy nose, and heartburn kicked in. An ever-growing abdomen turned an innie bellybutton into an outie. Big ligaments in hips, groin, and abdomen stretched uncomfortably to accommodate the growing womb. The stretch marks appeared, no matter how much cocoa butter was applied.

The third trimester was the homestretch. The baby’s kicks felt like an internal tap dance. Sleep was hard to come by. Every restroom was a welcome pitstop. The wall of exhaustion followed even simple efforts, like walking the dog or shopping for groceries. Braxton Hicks contractions launched a torrent of worry—is this it? We won’t even go into the final week or the actual delivery. Suffice it to say that Moms can affirm the words of the late rocker Tom Petty, “The waiting is the hardest part.”

In today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles, Jesus told his followers to wait in Jerusalem for the promise of the Father. Jesus didn’t even give his friends a timeline. He just told them to stay put and wait for God to take action.

I’m sure that the disciples didn’t like the prospect of waiting any more than a pregnant woman does. In the forty days since the resurrection, Jesus had been with his friends, interpreting the scriptures, and helping them to see his suffering and death as part of God’s ultimate plan for salvation. Jesus’ friends had gotten accustomed to having the risen Lord around. Perhaps they even hoped he would stay forever. That’s why they asked, “Is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” They hoped that Jesus would use his holy power to rout the Romans and restore David’s Kingdom. Jesus put a damper on their hopes and ambition. The only power the apostles would get was the holy power that the Spirit would bring. Until the Spirit’s arrival, they needed to stay put and wait – without him.

According to our reading, as Jesus ascended to the Father, the disciples stood around looking up. The Bible scholars like to say that the exaltation of Jesus’ ascension vindicates the humiliation of the crucifixion. But for the disciples, I suspect that watching their friend disappear felt just as frightening and uncomfortable as it was exhilarating and awe-inspiring. Returning to the upper room and waiting for an unspecified period of time for the next big thing may have made the disciples feel as restless and anxious as a Mom in her thirty-ninth week of pregnancy.

Of course, we don’t like waiting any more than our pregnant Moms or the post-Ascension disciples did. To be human is to wait. There’s the incidental waiting of every day: for the microwave to finish cooking the popcorn, for the cashier to ring us through at the Grand Union, for the last night of frost so that we can plant the garden. And there is tougher waiting: for responses to our college applications, for our savings to reach that perfect point for retirement, for the doctor to call with test results. Then there’s existential waiting: We wait for the nations to beat their swords into plowshares; We wait for the world to wake up to the growing climate crisis; we wait (like the disciples) for the coming Kingdom, when we shall at last live into God’s perfect plan for creation. To live is to wait, even though we don’t like it very much, even though it can make us impatient and frustrated, annoyed and angry.

We don’t like to hear that waiting is part of God’s plan. Scripture is filled with stories of folks forced to wait, not very patiently. Abram and Sarai were a couple of childless Arameans when God told them to head to Israel so that God could make a great nation of them. God didn’t tell them that they would both be old as dirt and good as dead by the time baby Isaac arrived. When God led the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt, the people had visions of soon settling in a land of milk and honey. No one told them it would take forty years to get there. David, who would become Israel’s greatest king, may have been anointed for leadership as a shepherd boy, but he would be a grizzled veteran of many battles before he would wear the crown. The Hebrew people had to wait through half a century of exile in Babylon. That’s why Isaiah had to remind them, “Those who wait on the Lord shall renew their strength. They shall rise up on wings like eagles; they shall run and not grow weary; they shall walk and not grow faint.”

If waiting is part of God’s plan, then it stands to reason that it must have a purpose. Maybe Abram and Sarai needed to be that old before they trusted God to provide. The Israelites needed forty years in the wilderness to learn those ten commandments and leave the ways of Egypt behind. David needed all those years of struggle and persecution to unite the tribes of Israel into a mighty nation. The exiles needed a long time-out from the Promised Land to understand the generosity of God and the goodness of a life lived in righteousness.

So, when the disciples were told to wait without Jesus for what God would do next, the most discerning among them may have thought, “Aha! There’s a reason for this.” If we were to continue to read in the Acts of the Apostles, we’d learn that the disciples followed Jesus’ instruction to return to Jerusalem. They headed to the upper room where they were staying. There they did a lot of praying, along with the women. They realized that, without Judas, they weren’t complete. They needed a twelfth disciple. After much debate and the casting of lots, they chose Mathias.

We can trust that there were other things that happened in those ten days of waiting. There were shared meals and the goodness of community. There was the telling of memories and the joy that came with remembering all that Jesus had said and done. They realized that without God’s will and work, they would never fill those big sandals, but they trusted that somehow God could be at work to make them more. By day ten, they had stopped being disciples and they had become something new. Something poised on the edge of action. The waiting was hard, but it was important.

On this Mother’s Day, the Moms among us can testify to both the challenges of those nine months of pregnancy and the importance of the waiting time. Yes, their bodies needed to change to prepare for the monumental task of giving birth. Yet those nine months were also filled with dreaming and planning. There was news to share, first with that inner circle of family and confidantes and then with others. There was work to do: a nursery to prepare, clothes to buy, little sweaters to knit, the huge supply of diapers to squirrel away. There were childbirth classes, lessons learned from their own mothers, and all the doctor’s visits. There was the deepening bond of marriage as the two who had been made one would soon become a family. There were prayers, many, many prayers. Somewhere along the way, those women stopped being whom they had always been. They changed; they transformed into something more. They became Moms. The waiting was hard, but it was important.

We don’t like waiting any more than our pregnant Moms or the post-Ascension disciples did, but I think the convergence of Mother’s Day and Ascension Sunday can help us to see our waiting times in a new light. As we do, we just may feel a little less impatient and frustrated, annoyed and angry. Yes, the waiting is the hardest part; yet, maybe we need to wait. Maybe we aren’t ready yet. There may be a lesson we have still to learn, a self-understanding that is yet to develop, a worldview that we cannot see, a God-view that is yet to be disclosed. One day, we’ll get it. We’ll trust more and grumble less, knowing that God is faithful. We’ll be transformed, even as we wait. We’ll grow—slowly, achingly, beautifully—into the people God created us to be. May it be so.

Resources

Nicole Harris. “Your Pregnancy Symptoms Week by Week” in Parents, October 23, 2022. Accessed online at Your Pregnancy Symptoms Week by Week (parents.com)

Kristi Walker. “What Does It Mean to Wait on the Lord?” in Christianity.com, June 24, 2022. Accessed online at What Does it Mean to Wait on the Lord? (christianity.com)

Frank L. Crouch. “Commentary on Acts 1:1-11” in Preaching This Week, May 5, 2016. Accessed online at Commentary on Acts 1:1-11 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

F. Scott Spencer. “Commentary on Acts 1:1-11” in Preaching This Week, May 9, 2024. Accessed online at Commentary on Acts 1:1-11 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

William Barclay. Acts 1:1-11 in The Acts of the Apostles (The New Daily Bible Study). Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2015.

Acts 1:1-11

1In the first book, Theophilus, I wrote about all that Jesus did and taught from the beginning ²until the day when he was taken up to heaven, after giving instructions through the Holy Spirit to the apostles whom he had chosen. ³After his suffering he presented himself alive to them by many convincing proofs, appearing to them during forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God. ⁴While staying with them, he ordered them not to leave Jerusalem, but to wait there for the promise of the Father. “This,” he said, “is what you have heard from me; ⁵for John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now.”

⁶So when they had come together, they asked him, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?” ⁷He replied, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority. ⁸But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” ⁹When he had said this, as they were watching, he was lifted up, and a cloud took him out of their sight. ¹⁰While he was going and they were gazing up toward heaven, suddenly two men in white robes stood by them. ¹¹They said, “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven.”

A Wider Welcome

May 5, 2024 / reverendjoannwhite / 1 Comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “A Wider Welcome” Acts 10:44-48

Judy Woodruff is a seasoned journalist with five decades of experience, reporting for NBC, CNN, and PBS. In the early days of her career during the Carter administration, Judy recalls dinner parties in Washington, with elected officials from both parties in attendance. There would be lively debate over policy and platforms, but there were also deep friendships and mutual concern that bridged divides, with conversations about school-aged kids, family traditions, beloved sports teams, and great books.

Woodruff says that spirit of respectful disagreement and abiding friendship has practically vanished in the nation’s capital. We might agree that the same is true for us. Nowadays, it feels like our nation and our communities are divided on almost every front, with bitter disagreement ready to explode at any moment, whether we are speaking of guns, the southern border, the books our children read, the state of our economy, or the war in Gaza. We don’t dare to have thoughtful, adult conversations about tough topics for fear that we will be attacked, shunned, or maligned. We don’t like it. In fact, 93% of us feel that our national divisions are a major problem, and we aren’t very optimistic about our ability to bridge those barriers.

Today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles tells a story about the power of the Holy Spirit to overcome divisions and forge a new community. It begins with two dreams.

In his duty as a centurion of the Roman Empire, Cornelius had been deployed to Israel, an often-fractious outpost where the Jewish locals resented and sometimes rebelled against occupation. With the one-hundred-man cohort under his command, Cornelius had sailed across the Mediterranean to Caesarea Maritime, the Roman capital of Israel. They settled into imperial housing. They trained, drilled, and were sent out, from time to time, to put down civil unrest, like in Jerusalem at the Passover when Jewish dreams of freedom ran high. Cornelius had not only moved his men across the sea, he had also uprooted his whole family with their servants, slaves, and dependents. All now lived as strangers in a strange land.

But Cornelius, who was raised as a pagan, had fallen in love with the God of Israel. He studied the Torah and offered his prayers to God Almighty. He got to know local Jewish leaders and shared many acts of kindness and charity with the community. Then one day, as he was praying, Cornelius had a vision. An angel appeared to Cornelius, saying that God had heard his prayers and seen his good works. Cornelius must send immediately for the Apostle Peter, who had a message that needed to be heard.

We have all had times when we have been Cornelius. Work or school takes us to a new community. Uprooted in a place that does not feel like home, we make the best of it. We do our job or attend to our studies. We settle ourselves and our family. We try to make connections in the community. But underneath it all, we may feel like strangers in a strange land, unsure and a little homesick.

Meanwhile, Peter had his own dream. Resting and praying in the heat of the day at the home of his friend Simon the Tanner, Peter had also seen a vision, not once but three times. Something like a sheet was lowered by its four corners from the heavens. When Peter peeped inside, he was shocked to see unclean things: scuttling crabs and snapping lobsters, squealing pigs and hopping hares, awkward ostriches and clacking oysters. What really horrified Peter, though, was what God said next, “Get up Peter, kill and eat. What I have made clean, you must not call profane.” Eat all those disgusting, unclean foods that were forbidden by the Torah? Peter was still puzzling over his repeated vision when there was a knock on the door, the delegation from Cornelius arrived to take the apostle to meet the Roman centurion.

Peter began to wonder if his triple vision was really about food, or if God had something else in mind. Peter was not excited about the invitation to meet with the household of Cornelius; those foreign occupiers were about as appealing to Peter as Oysters Rockefeller. Peter’s travel to Caesarea must have been filled with big worries and huge doubts. He struggled with questions, “Didn’t the Torah and the tradition of the elders say that contact with Gentiles was unclean and undesirable? Was he really going to meet with the very worst kind of Gentile – a Roman occupier, the very people who had hung Jesus on a cross?”

We have all been like Peter. We feel pretty clear about what God expects of us. We don’t share Peter’s bias about kosher foods, but we do have opinions about the company we keep. We swing the door of welcome wide for family, friends, and those who seem like us. We’re not so sure about the town drunk or the mentally ill man who is waiting for the alien invasion. We’re not so sure about the colleague who tells racist jokes in the break room or the neighbor whose yard is posted with partisan placards. We might not want to open the door at all to the skinhead or the zealot.

When Peter finally arrived at the home of Cornelius, his apprehension soon vanished. The powerful Roman military officer fell to his knees, humbled that God had brought a human messenger to satisfy his spiritual hunger. As Peter helped his host to his feet and the two men shared their strange and unexpected dreams, Peter came to a new realization. Looking at Cornelius and the eager assembly of Gentile family and friends who had gathered to hear his message, Peter said, “I finally get it. God has shown me that I must not call any person profane or unclean.”

What happened next, was a little like God’s big stamp of approval for the whole barrier breaking encounter. As Peter shared the story of Jesus, his helping, healing ministry, his unselfish suffering on the cross, and his resurrection that broke the earthly powers of sin and death, something remarkable happened. Before Peter had even finished his sermon, the Holy Spirit arrived, falling on those uncircumcised Gentile outsiders. The house erupted with songs of praise and gifts or prayer, with the sound of ecstatic language and words of prophecy. It was a Gentile Pentecost that tore down every barrier that the Roman Empire, the people of Israel, or the Apostle Peter might want to build up.

It began with two dreams. But I wonder if we could add a third dream, one of our own. We won’t have a knock on the door this week, summoning us to Caesarea Maritime. Yet I trust that we will have moments of uncomfortable encounter, moments when we will find ourselves dealing with other people who stir our natural biases and preferences. It will be tempting, perhaps even second nature in this time of deep divisions, to set them straight, write them off, or turn our backs entirely. But what if those moments of aggravation and irritation that punctuate our days are actually moments of grace? Could we even imagine that those encounters are divinely appointed moments in which the Spirit can work to overcome differences and bridge divides?

Judy Woodruff, the seasoned journalist whom I mentioned at the start of my message, is in the middle of a two-year project that she calls “America at the Crossroads.” Her goal is to meet with and listen to as many Americans as she can, to try to understand why we’re so divided. In the first eleven months of her reporting, she visited fourteen states and put together twenty-one reports. She’s still dismayed about our divides, but she sees signs of hope where community members overcome their differences to work together to address local needs.

It reminds me of our local ecumenical council. As congregations, we have some big differences. We can’t agree on whether to take the Bible literally or to read it through the lens of scholarship and social historic research. We can’t agree on the sort of music we should play on Sunday mornings—pipe organ or praise band? We can’t agree on how we pray—liturgy, the words of the pastor, or the ecstatic sound of tongues? We can’t even agree on whether or not women can actually be pastors. But if you present us with a community concern, like hunger or homelessness, the Spirit prompts us to set aside our differences and get busy for the common good, launching the Food Pantry and Grace Pantry, the Community Lunchbox and Samaritan House.

So, if Peter could move past his natural bias to welcome Cornelius, if local churches can overlook our differences to meet human need, then maybe there is hope for our nation yet. It can begin with us. The next time we want to turn away from those whose beliefs and practices are unlike our own, we can remember that they aren’t necessarily evil. It just might be that our discomfort stems from the stretching of our preconceived notions and natural bias. We can dare to remember that God’s welcome is always wider than we imagine. God may be calling us to try something new, to welcome someone new, to build a world where the words “us and them” are heard less, and the words “we and us” are heard more.

We may not be able to singlehandedly overcome America’s divisions, but we can trust that the Holy Spirit can. May we live into the Spirit’s leading and dare to practice a wider welcome.

Resources:

Judy Woodruff. “This is what political division looks like in the U.S. right now” in PBS News Hour, Dec. 19, 2023. Accessed online at This is what political division looks like in the U.S. right now | PBS NewsHour

Sara Machi. Nine in ten Americans say overcoming divisiveness is now more important than ever before in IPSOS, April 27, 2021. Accessed online at Nine in ten Americans say overcoming divisiveness is now more important than ever before | Ipsos

Richard Jensen. “Commentary on Acts 10:44-48” in Preaching This Week, May 17, 2009. Accessed online at Commentary on Acts 10:44-48 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Jacob Myers. “Commentary on Acts 10:44-48” in Preaching This Week, May 13, 2012. Accessed online at Commentary on Acts 10:44-48 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Jerusha Matson Neal. “Commentary on Acts 10:44-48” in Preaching This Week, May 9, 2021. Accessed online at Commentary on Acts 10:44-48 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

F. Scott Spencer. “Commentary on Acts 10:44-48” in Preaching This Week, May 5, 2024. Accessed online at Commentary on Acts 10:44-48 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Acts 10:44-48

⁴⁴While Peter was still speaking, the Holy Spirit fell upon all who heard the word. ⁴⁵The circumcised believers who had come with Peter were astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out even on the Gentiles, ⁴⁶for they heard them speaking in tongues and extolling God. Then Peter said, ⁴⁷“Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?” ⁴⁸So he ordered them to be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ. Then they invited him to stay for several days.

“Baptism of Cornelius” by Francesco Trevisani, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Abiding in Christ

April 28, 2024 / reverendjoannwhite / 1 Comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Abiding in Christ” John 15:1-8

Last week, our gospel reading invited us to consider Jesus the Good Shepherd. This week, John’s gospel brings us another of Jesus’ bold statements of identity, “I am the true vine.” Herding sheep and tending a vineyard are tasks far removed from our daily experience, but these agricultural metaphors would have been familiar to Jesus’ listeners. In Jesus’ world, vineyards were an essential part of the landscape. Grapes were eaten as fresh fruit, dried into raisins, and mashed into jams. Grapes were turned into wine, sweet syrup, and vinegar. Vineyards passed from generation to generation within families. As fruit ripened, whole communities pitched in with all-hands-on-deck to bring in the harvest.

When Jesus told his disciples, “I am the vine, you are the branches,” he was alluding to grafting, a vineyard practice that is as important in the wine industry today as it was for first century vine growers. Brent Young, a viticulturalist at Jordan Vineyard and Winery in Sonoma, CA, gets animated when he describes the work of grafting new varieties of grape onto old root stock. First, old grape vines, which are well-established and especially suited to the soil, are cut off, leaving a stump that is allowed to freely bleed and weep for about a week. Then a specialized team is called in. The vinedressers move along the row of cut vines, scoring each stump with a sharp knife. Next, the vinedresser slips a few small budding branches or scions into the scores. The scions are then carefully wrapped to secure their new home in the old vine. Over the following weeks, something wonderful happens, the old root stock gives life to the new scion. It grows, branches, and eventually bears new fruit.

Jesus’s words, “I am the vine, you are the branches,” were meant to comfort and exhort his friends. As Jesus spoke, it was his last evening with the disciples. He had washed his friends’ feet and shared a special meal with them. Judas had already slipped away to betray him. The disciples needed a word of wisdom to guide them through the terror that would soon grip them. Jesus was the true vine, his life revealed God’s will and word for humanity. His death would demonstrate God’s limitless love. Soon the true vine would be cut down, yet the disciples could endure because Jesus was an essential part of them. He would always be with them and, grafted into him, they could put forth miraculous new life and branch out in his purpose.

In viticulture, if the budding scion that the vinedresser attaches to the root stock loses its connection, it withers and dies. Separated from the vine, no life-giving sap can nurture and sustain it. Likewise, Jesus reminded his friends that they would need to abide in him. The Greek word for abide that Jesus used here, meinate, means to stay or remain, to live, dwell, lodge. Abiding in Jesus means cultivating an ongoing, inward, personal bond with the Lord that imparts nurture, meaning, and purpose for our lives.

We long for the meaning and purpose that come with abiding in Christ. But unlike the viticulturalists at the Jordan Vineyard and Winery in Sonoma, we don’t have an expert team of vinedressers to ensure that we keep our connection with the lifegiving true vine of the Lord. I’d like to focus on three ways that we can abide in Jesus the true vine.

Abiding in Christ means feasting upon his words in scripture, whether listening to Sunday sermons, reading the Bible, or participating in Christian Education. The late Fred Craddock, who taught preaching and New Testament at Emory University, once shared that the most influential person in his life was his Sunday school teacher, Miss Emma Stone. She gave him his first Bible and taught him to memorize scripture verses, saying “Just put it in your heart.” Miss Stone taught Fred a verse for each letter of the alphabet. Years later, Craddock reflected upon the importance of those twenty-six verses of scripture that he learned as a child, saying “I can’t think of anything, anything in all my life that has made such a radical difference as those verses. The Spirit of God brings them to mind time and time again.”

We have likewise been sustained by the abiding promises of scripture. In our bleakest moments, we find ourselves praying with the words, “Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for thou art with me” (Psalm 23:4). When we’ve made a mess of things and lost our way, we hold to the promise that “God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son so that whosoever believeth in him may not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16). When we are feeling vulnerable or overwhelmed, we remember the words of the Apostle Paul, “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me” (Phil. 4:13). What are the holy words that help you to abide in Christ?

We also abide through prayer. We all have stories of learning to pray. Sometimes we learn in church. Author and spiritual director Jane E. Vennard writes that although she came from a family of staunch church goers, they never prayed together. Yet every Sunday in church, she was inspired by the beautiful prayers of her pastor. He had survived childhood polio, which left him partially paralyzed, but on Sunday mornings he stood in the pulpit with the help of crutches, stretched out his arms, and lifted his face to pray with a look of pure joy. The beauty and ardor of those prayers inspired Jane to her own lifetime of prayerful connection with God.

Others among us learned to pray from family members. One woman tells the story of learning prayer from her German grandmother. Every night, she would run up the stairs to her grandmother’s room, climb into bed with her, and snuggle under the blanket while her grandmother prayed. An adult now, she says, “I don’t know what she was saying, but her words seemed full of love, just like her arms around me.”

We have similar stories of parents, grandparents, or caring friends who modeled for us a prayer-filled life. As we’ve grown, we’ve learned to make prayers of our own. We share table graces with our families. We recite the Lord’s Prayer each morning as a daily devotion. We find holy refreshment in centering prayer. We may even resort to what author Anne Lamott says are the only two prayers we will ever need to know, “Help me, help me, help me. Thank you, thank you, thank you.” How has prayer equipped you to abide in Christ?

Abiding in Christ comes naturally when we are part of a community that loves and serves the Lord. I think about this church’s United Presbyterian Women, women like Evelyn Outcalt, Anna Ferree, Jan Bristol, Carroll Dixon, and Gert Bickford. They were the heartbeat of this church for many years. Most of them were already in their eighties when I came to Saranac Lake almost two decades ago, yet they still gathered monthly for fellowship and spiritual friendship. They had been woven together by years of rummage sales and potlucks, births and celebrations, family tragedies and deaths. They were there for one another with prayers and casseroles, Hallmark cards and simple kindnesses. In that faithful fellowship, they knew the abiding presence of Jesus.

The UPW may be no more, but we continue to find Jesus in this church community. We abide in Christ as we gather each Sunday morning to praise and worship him. We abide in Christ with singing as harmonies are learned and voices blend to the glory of God. We abide in Christ when we grapple together with the big questions of faith in Bible and book studies. We abide in Christ with the fellowship of Coffee Hour, camp outs, and picnics. We abide as we merge our gifts for leadership and care as elders and deacons. How have we abided, growing closer to God and one another in the body of Christ?

Jesus taught his friends that as they abided in him, they would bear fruit. Our growing identity as branches of the true vine is revealed in fruitful works and ministries that reveal the love of Christ to others. When we are grafted into the true vine, we work together to serve others. We find ourselves teaching Sunday School, extending Coffee Hour hospitality, and cooking healthy meals for friends in tough times. When we are grafted into Christ, we serve our vulnerable neighbors. We grow produce in the church garden and share it at the Food Pantry. We pray fervently for folks in every kind of need with the prayer chain. We support neighbors in crisis with the Deacons’ Fund. We help vulnerable world neighbors, like the widows of Mzuzu, through the Women of Grace. As we abide in Christ, his ministry finds new life in us, and the world is blessed by that good fruit.

We may never be viticulturalists, but we have been grafted into the true vine. We are the branches. May we abide in Jesus with scripture, prayer, and the blessing of Christian community. And may we bear good fruit to the glory of God and for the good of our neighbors.

Resources

Jane E. Vennard. “Learning to Pray,” The Alban Institute at Duke Divinity School, July 24, 2006. Accessed online at alban.org.

Brent Young. “Field Grafting Grapevines,” wine education video, 2012. Jordan Vineyard & Winery. Accessed online at Field Grafting Grapevines | How Grapes are Grafted to Change Varieties | Wine Education Videos (youtube.com)

Robert M. Brearley. “Homiletical Perspective on John 15:1-11” in Feasting on the Gospels, John, vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press), 2015.

Luis Menendez-Antuña. “Exegetical Perspective on John 15:1-11” in Feasting on the Gospels, John, vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press), 2015. Karoline Lewis. “Commentary on John 15:1-8” in Preaching This Week, April 28, 2024. Accessed online at Commentary on John 15:1-8 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

John 15:1-8

15”I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower. ²He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. ³You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you. ⁴Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. ⁵I am the vine, you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. ⁶Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. ⁷If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. ⁸My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.

Good Shepherds

April 21, 2024 / reverendjoannwhite / 2 Comments

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Good Shepherds” John 10 and 1 John 3:16-24

There are 35.3 million refugees in our world, global neighbors who have been forced to flee their homes and cross borders in search of safety and a future. A further 62.5 million people are internally displaced, still residing within their country of origin but homeless. 10 million people are asylum seekers. For them, going home would mean certain death. Last year saw the largest single-year increase in the forced displacement of people in modern history, more even than in the chaos of the Second World War.

4.5 million people of Sudan have been forced to flee amid civil violence. Awad decided to flee to the neighboring village of Mafot when fighting erupted in his hometown. His 80-year-old mother Dawa was too frail to make the two-day journey by foot, so Awad hid her in the bush for three days while he moved his wife and nine children to safety. Awad returned for his mother and carried her to Mafot. After several months, the artillery shells again began to fall. Awad’s family fled further. For 15 days, Awad carried his elderly mother and his daughter Zainab on his back, until they reached the border crossing into South Sudan. Awad’s family now lives with 56,000 other refugees in the Gendrassa camp. Awad knows he will never go home, but he hopes for a day when he will again farm.

The civil conflict in Syria is now in its 14th year. Syrians account for 20% of the world’s refugee population with 6.5 million people hosted in 131 countries. Within Syria, 13.5 million people, more than half of the population, are displaced. Yehia is a Syrian farmer, who raised wheat and barley near the city of Hama. Before the civil war, Yehia says that the family had “the best life.” But in 2017, fighting destroyed their family home. Yehia’s 10-year-old son and one-year-old daughter were killed along with five other family members. Rescuers pulled his four-year-old girl Shahad from the rubble and rushed her to a local clinic, where an overworked medic stitched her badly lacerated face. They then fled for the border. On the way, they were stopped at dozens of checkpoints, where they feared being detained and imprisoned. Seventeen hours later, after midnight, they arrived in Lebanon with nothing but a suitcase. Now at a refugee camp in Lebanon, Yehia is doing what he can to support the surviving members of his family.

In its first year, the Russian invasion drove eight million people out of Ukraine. Almost four million Ukrainians are internally displaced, driven from their homes by violence. Elena Yurchuk worked as a nurse in the northern town of Chernihiv. She tended the injured in a hospital that overflowed with the wounded and dying, even as the Russian bombs fell around them. When the hospital was reduced to rubble, Elena, like many of her neighbors, fled for her life. In a hastily packed car, Elena and her family set out for the Romanian border town of Suceava. Along the way, a car with a young family that followed them was blown up. Elena says, “I don’t know if I have a home or not. Our city is under siege and we barely escaped.”

In a world where 108 million people live the precarious life of refugees and the displaced, the promise of a Good Shepherd sounds especially sweet. When Jesus chose the metaphor of the Good Shepherd to describe himself and his ministry, he drew on a favorite image from the world of the ancient Near East. Kings, emperors, and religious leaders were characterized as shepherds of the people. Good shepherds protected their people from foreign invaders, provided food in times of famine, took particular care of vulnerable widows and orphans, and maintained justice in the land. Bad shepherds were more like wolves. They profited at the people’s expense by conscripting men for endless warfare, taxing villages to pay for imperial luxuries, neglecting the widow and orphan, and selling justice to the highest bidder. The Hebrew scriptures, whether we are reading the twenty-third psalm or the Prophet Ezekiel (34), affirm that God is the best shepherd, and God longs for a world where people are shepherded with compassion and infinite care – with abundant pastures, flowing streams, protection from enemies, and safety even in the presence of death.

Jesus tells us that he is the Good Shepherd, sent by God to care for God’s people. Jesus’ life was an object lesson in good shepherding. He worked miracles of healing that brought new life to even the most hopeless of cases. He fed hungry crowds abundantly, multiplying scanty provisions to satisfy multitudes. Jesus specially cared for the most vulnerable members of the flock, widows and children, lepers and demoniacs. Jesus sought and saved the lost. He dined with social refugees, like sinners, tax collectors, and prostitutes. In Jesus, we saw the perfect fulfillment of God’s promise to raise up a messianic Good Shepherd to redeem the lost, lonely, hurting, and oppressed people of Israel.

Perhaps Jesus’s good shepherding was strengthened by his own experience of vulnerability. As refugees, Jesus’s family fled Bethlehem for the safe haven of Egypt, just one step ahead of Herod’s death squad. A homeless rabbi, Jesus lamented that foxes had holes, birds had nests, yet he had no place to lay his head. A target of powerful religious and political enemies, Jesus endured the criticism of scribes and Pharisees, elders and priests. He suffered the insults, torture, and injustice of Herod and Pilate. Jesus, our Good Shepherd, knew first hand a world where bad shepherds called the shots, and he longed to set it straight.

In a world where refugees and displaced people abound, the Good Shepherd reminds us that we cannot turn a blind eye to the suffering of our global neighbors. We belong to one another, just as we belong to God. Jesus told his friends that he had other sheep, that did not belong to their fold. Those other sheep listened for his voice, and he longed to welcome them. Whether we call Saranac Lake our home, we shelter like Awad in the Gendrassa Camp of South Sudan, we seek safety like Yehia in Lebanon, or like Elena we are on the run from war-torn Ukraine, we are a single global flock, loved by a sovereign God. Professor Gennifer Benjamin Brooks of Garrett Evangelical Seminary says that we cannot love the shepherd without loving the flock, in all the diversity of our world.

Being a member of the Good Shepherd’s flock becomes a call to action, to work for the help and healing of our world. We are summoned to the task of shepherding, of living with and for the best interest of others. Jesus tells us that the Good Shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. Indeed, on a lonely cross, stationed between two common criminals, beaten and bloodied, subjected to the verbal abuse of jeering crowds, the good shepherd laid down his life for the flock and reconciled us to God and one another.

In his first letter, the Apostle John characterized the Christian life as living for others, writing, “We know love by this, that Jesus laid down his life for us—and we ought to lay down our lives for one another. How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help? Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action.” That imperative to act has prompted this church to give generously to One Great Hour of Sharing, lace up our sneakers and stride out for CROP Walk, and advocate for humanitarian parole for the Hamidullah Family languishing in Kabul, Afghanistan. All are ministries that serve the most vulnerable members of the world’s flock. The more we listen to and follow the shepherd’s voice, the more we live with his care and compassion, the more our world begins to resemble that holy Kingdom where the Good Shepherd reigns triumphant and eternal.

We, who follow the Good Shepherd, seek a different kind of future for the exiled and displaced. We long to build a world where the global flock knows its belovedness and belongingness. It will be a world where Awad plants fields of green and his family puts down roots. It’s a world where Yehia and the war-ravaged people of Syria go back to ancestral homes amid the blessing of peace. It’s a world where Elena returns to the mundane duties of nursing in Ukraine, safe from the blast of bombs. May we make it so.

I’d like to close this message with “A Prayer to the Shepherd” written by Andrew King, who blogs at “A Poetic Kind of Place.”

O Lord our Shepherd,

may your flock not want

in the refugee camps

of Yarmouk, of Darfur, of Dadaab.

May life-giving pastures of nourishment be theirs

in Sudan, in Niger, in Chad.

May waters of peacefulness and healing flow

in Somalia, in Syria, in Ukraine.

And may souls be restored in our own cities and towns

where violence and hunger still live.

O Lord our Shepherd,

death shadows the valleys

and the houses and hills of our lands.

May the strength of your grace and

the assurance of your love

ever with us and ever embracing,

bring comfort to the grieving and alone.

May there be a table of reconciliation prepared

where enemies may sit down in peace

and may the cup of joy overflow for those

whose suffering has been their drink.

Let your goodness and mercy attend your flock,

O Shepherd, our Lord,

and may all your flock dwell

in the unity of your love

as long as life endures.

Resources:

Andrew King. “A Prayer to the Shepherd” in A Poetic Kind of Place, April 10, 2016. Accessed online at https://earth2earth.wordpress.com/tag/the-good-shepherd/

USA for UNHCR. “Refugee Statistics” in Refugee Facts 2024. Accessed online at Refugee Statistics | USA for UNHCR (unrefugees.org)

–. “Refugee Stories: Mapping a Crisis.” The Choices Program, Brown University Department of History. Accessed online at www.choices.ed

Stephen McGrath. “Ukraine refugees tell harrowing tales even as numbers ease” in The Associated Press, March 13, 2022. Accessed online at Ukraine refugees tell harrowing tales even as numbers ease | AP News.

Lucy Lind Hogan. “Commentary on John 10:11-18” in Preaching This Week, April 29, 2012. Accessed online at Commentary on John 10:11-18 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Gennifer Benjamin Brooks. “Commentary on John 10:11-18” in Preaching This Week, April 25, 2021. Accessed online at Commentary on John 10:11-18 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Susan Hedahl. “Commentary on John 10:11-18” in Preaching This Week, May 3, 2009. Accessed online at Commentary on John 10:11-18 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

John 10:1-26

10“Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. ²The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. ³The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. ⁴When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. ⁵They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from him because they do not know the voice of strangers.” ⁶Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them. ⁷So again Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. ⁸All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. ⁹I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. ¹⁰The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly. ¹¹“I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. ¹²The hired hand, who is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and runs away—and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. ¹³The hired hand runs away because a hired hand does not care for the sheep. ¹⁴I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, ¹⁵just as the Father knows me and I know the Father. And I lay down my life for the sheep. ¹⁶I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd. ¹⁷For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life in order to take it up again. ¹⁸No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have power to lay it down, and I have power to take it up again. I have received this command from my Father.”

¹⁹Again the Jews were divided because of these words. ²⁰Many of them were saying, “He has a demon and is out of his mind. Why listen to him?” ²¹Others were saying, “These are not the words of one who has a demon. Can a demon open the eyes of the blind?”

²²At that time the festival of the Dedication took place in Jerusalem. It was winter, ²³and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the portico of Solomon. ²⁴So the Jews gathered around him and said to him, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” ²⁵Jesus answered, “I have told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me; ²⁶but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. ²⁷My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.

Start Where You Are At

April 14, 2024 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Start Where You Are At” Luke 24:36b-48

Krista comes to church on Sunday mornings feeling worn out. She works full-time. She and her husband are raising three very busy school-age children. Last year, Krista’s Mom died unexpectedly. Krista has been helping her father prepare to sell their family home. Krista is constantly on the move. Working, grocery shopping, cooking, and taxying children to extra-curricular activities. Cleaning out the attic at her Dad’s place, running a yard sale, and making many runs to the dump. She misses her Mom.

Charlie comes to church on Sunday mornings feeling stressed out. It’s his only day off from a job that gets bigger every year. So many people depend upon him. His boss expects him to work miracles of productivity and profit, even when he is desperately short-staffed. His colleagues count on him to cast the vision and manage the team. With a big mortgage and kids soon headed to college, his family needs the substantial paycheck. At some point, a job that once felt interesting and fulfilling began to feel like a recipe for burnout, and there doesn’t seem to be much that he can do about it.

Rita and Nate come to church on Sunday morning feeling worried and afraid. Retired now, they are committed to a legion of community concerns: volunteering at the soup kitchen, caring for pets at the animal shelter, helping out for Winter Carnival, and more. Being retired, they spend a LOT of time together, more than ever before in the course of their long marriage. Between annoying habits and differing opinions, it isn’t always easy. Now, one of them has a health crisis. They are on a long journey through the scary, inhospitable realm of healthcare. It feels overwhelming.

Luke tells us how the disciples felt on Easter evening: filled with fear and doubt. They had made a Passover journey to Jerusalem with their friend and rabbi Jesus, whom they believed to be the Messiah. They entered the city feeling hopeful, triumphant even. Yet, their week had taken a foreboding and sinister turn. Tension mounted, day by day. Powerful opponents waited in the Temple courts to challenge Jesus’ authority, seeking to entrap and discredit him. When they could not best Jesus with deceitful words, they put a price on his head. For thirty pieces of silver, one of them had betrayed him. A kiss sent Jesus to the cross while everyone ran for their lives, all love and loyalty forgotten. Beyond fear and doubt, Jesus’ friends were filled with despair, grief, and the bitter self-recrimination that comes when we know that we have failed those whom we love most.

They were ready to give up and go home, slipping out of the city in anonymous pairs as soon as the time was right. But Easter morning brought confusion and anxiety. Some of the women returned from the gravesite, telling a curious tale of an empty tomb and heavenly messengers. “He is risen!” cried Mary Magdalene, trying to shake them from the stupor of grief, but they could not listen and did not believe. Later, Cleopas and his companion returned with an equally implausible story of Jesus on the road, opening the scriptures to them and sharing an evening meal. In our reading from Luke’s gospel, the disciples had their own terrifying encounter with the risen Lord. Despite the locked door and the secrecy of their location, Jesus found them and stood among them with the greeting of peace.

When Lucy Lind Hogan, who taught at Wesley Seminary in Washington for many years, teaches about today’s scripture reading, she likes to use five “e” words: encounter, explanation, eating, enlightenment, and exit. It begins with encounter, that sudden appearance and shocking greeting of peace in the upper room. Then there is an explanation: visible wounds are shown and touched to assuage fear and doubt. Next comes the eating; after all, Jesus loved to break bread with all kinds of people, even fearful, failed disciples. As Jesus patiently used the Hebrew scripture to reveal that his suffering, death, and resurrection were all part of God’s plan for the Messiah and the salvation of the world, the disciples found enlightenment. Their minds were opened and they understood. Lastly, Jesus vanished, making an exit, but not before giving his friends a mission that would bring meaning and purpose to their lives.

When we come to church on Sunday mornings, our experience is a lot like the disciples on that first Easter evening. We come filled with a weight of experience and feeling. Like Krista, we may be worn-out, stretched thin, and grieved. Like Charlie, we may be stressed-out, over-worked, and under-supported. Like Rita and Nate, we may feel worried and afraid, ill-equipped to face the crises that come, especially as we age. Take a look around. There’s a lot going on inside us on Sunday mornings. We come to church hoping for whatever it may be that we need to send us back out there into a new week.

Somehow on Sunday mornings at church, we find those five “e’s” of Easter evening. We encounter Jesus. He’s here in the smiles, handshakes, and hugs of those who worship alongside us. We feel his mercy and grace as we confess our sins and know that we are forgiven. Through scripture read, the word proclaimed, and the sharing or prayers, we find our explanation and grow in understanding. At least once a month, we eat with Jesus, breaking the bread and lifting the cup that are his body and blood for us. As worship ends, we go forth enlightened. Even though we arrive feeling worn-out, burned-out, or down and out, we trust that we are loved and we are not alone. As we make our exit, the risen Christ walks with us into a new week, and we find what is needed to begin again. Thanks be to God.

Jesus hoped that his friends would go forth from Easter evening with the willingness to do for others what he had done for them. There was a world of people out there who needed his mission, and the Lord trusted that the men and women who followed him would go forth in his purpose. There were outsiders who needed to be welcomed and children who could use a blessing. There were sick people longing for healing. There were sinners who dreamed of forgiveness, and everywhere so many people needed to know that God loved and accepted them in all their frailty. The disciples could handle that mission. They could simply start where they were at, right there in Jerusalem, extending to one another the mercy that Jesus had extended to them and trusting that Jesus would be known through their witness.

Perhaps we can follow in the footsteps of the disciples this morning. Redeemed and renewed by the risen Lord, we can start where we are at, simply carrying the love, grace, and peace that we find on Sunday mornings out there, to a world that is worn-out, stressed-out, and down and out. For us, taking the love of Christ and the good news of repentance and forgiveness to all nations might look like sharing the faith with Bible stories for our children and grandchildren or inviting a neighbor to come to church. We can tell the story with more than words. We can share it with helping hands and caring thoughts, inviting someone who struggles to join us for a home-cooked meal or meet us for a cup of coffee. We can sow the seeds of Christ’s love by choosing to love our hard to love neighbors with patience and compassion. We can bear witness that healing and forgiveness are always possible with God, when we dare to let go of old hurts and allow the past to be the past. We share the hope of new life and the life eternal as we help others begin again – whether that new beginning comes after divorce, or as a new career path is undertaken, or as the slow tide of grief that comes with loss ebbs and flows. How will we start where we are at? How will we pursue Christ’s mission this week?

I trust that as we go forth in Jesus’s purpose, the world will begin to feel a little less burned-out, stressed-out, down and out — and so will we. People like Krista, who are stretched thin and weighed down by grief, will find helping hands and solace for sadness. People like Charlie, caught in big workplace commitments, will find conversation partners who listen, encourage, and help them to set healthier boundaries. Friends who are struggling, like Rita and Nate, will find caring presence, good advice, and timely help with healthcare and counseling resources. As we pray alongside others and remind them that God is powerful when we are not, we can trust that Christ’s mission continues. The world will know those five “e’s” of Easter evening and experience the blessing we find on Sunday mornings. May it be so.

Resources

Michael Joseph Brown. “Commentary on Luke 24:36b-48” in Preaching This Week, April 14, 2024. Accessed online at Commentary on Luke 24:36b-48 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Lucy Lind Hogan. “Commentary on Luke 24:36b-48” in Preaching This Week, April 22, 2012. Accessed online at Commentary on Luke 24:36b-48 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Jacob Myers. “Commentary on Luke 24:36b-48” in Preaching This Week, April 19, 2015. Accessed online at Commentary on Luke 24:36b-48 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Luke 24:36b-48

³⁶While they were talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” ³⁷They were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost. ³⁸He said to them, “Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? ³⁹Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.” ⁴⁰And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet. ⁴¹While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering, he said to them, “Have you anything here to eat?” ⁴²They gave him a piece of broiled fish, ⁴³and he took it and ate in their presence. ⁴⁴Then he said to them, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you—that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.” ⁴⁵Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures, ⁴⁶and he said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, ⁴⁷and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. ⁴⁸You are witnesses of these things.

Rise Up!

March 31, 2024March 31, 2024 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Rise Up!” Mark 16:1-8

In three weeks, when we traditionally celebrate Good Shepherd Sunday, our cousins in the Orthodox tradition will commemorate the Sunday of Myrrh-bearing Women. They have been doing so since the fifth century when John Chrysostom, the Bishop of Constantinople, first honored those women who went to the tomb, armed with burial spices and anointing oil. In Orthodox churches on the Sunday of Myrrh-bearing Women, censers will be filled with smoking incense, and the priest will swing them with a practiced arm, venerating all four sides of the altar, the congregation, the bread and wine of communion, and the church itself. Prayers will remember the faithful witness of the women. The sermon may even make the connection between the myrrh-bearers and the long history of women who have served the church. The hymn of the day will be introduced with the words, “The women disciples bring myrrh unto Christ. And I bring a hymn as [if] it were myrrh unto them.”

Our Orthodox cousins also remember the myrrh-bearing women with a long tradition of iconography, sacred art that is used as an invitation to prayer and reflection. Perhaps you have seen the icons. Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome are depicted at the tomb. The holy messenger in dazzling white points to the empty graveclothes, proclaiming that Jesus has risen. The women, with heads covered and flowing robes, carry ceramic flasks of oil. Their faces are wide-eyed with fear and lined with tears. One of the women is often painted with her back to the angel, as if poised to run. She looks back over her shoulder, torn between learning what has happened to Jesus and succumbing to holy terror.

After the sabbath, when the myrrh-bearers rose early, purchased spices, and walked to the tomb, they were well-acquainted with death. In first-century Israel, tending the dead was women’s work. It fell to women to prepare bodies for the grave: washing, anointing with oil, and wrapping in a simple linen shroud. For three days, women accompanied the body, walking to the tomb each morning, singing psalms, and sharing tears and cries of mourning. The myrrh-bearers had buried many people and tended many bodies: elderly parents, aged husbands, dear friends, solitary neighbors, and in a world where only one in five children lived to adulthood, they had buried children, many children.

Jesus warned the disciples that death waited in the Holy City. But the week before the women had rejoiced and danced into Jerusalem. Filled with hope, they sang and played their drums, waved palm branches and rejoiced to be in the company of the Messiah. That week the city turned hostile, even murderous. On the night of the Passover, the women saw Jesus betrayed, abandoned, and led off like a lamb to the slaughter. On Friday, the women followed their bloody, broken Lord as he stumbled beneath the terrible burden of the cross. From a distance, they watched while soldiers gambled and the mob taunted and mocked. As the sun failed and darkness covered the land, they saw Jesus surrender his spirit. As the day grew late and the sabbath neared, two of the women followed Joseph of Arimathea. They watched him claim the body, wrap it in linen, and hastily stow it in a rock-hewn tomb. All through the Sabbath, the women sat with their grief and loss. They weren’t sure who they were anymore, what their purpose was, or how they could go on. But as the rosy promise of a new week crept above the eastern horizon, they found the courage to do what women always did when a beloved one died. They purchased their burial spices and anointing oil and walked to the tomb.

We are not myrrh-bearers in the traditional sense of the word. We leave it to the mortuary or the crematorium to tend to the bodies of our dead. Yet we are not strangers to death. We know what it is like to walk to the tomb, to face squarely our loss and pain, our disbelief and defeat. We know the untimely death of our beloved ones. We know the death of our endeavors: the marriage that flounders and fails; the business that goes under; the degree we never finish. We know the death of friendships and kinships: the forgiveness we never extend, the trust that is betrayed, the selfish interest that drives home the killing wedge. We know death writ large upon the world stage: our planet groaning beneath the burden of our abuse, the blood of Palestinians and Israelis crying from the ground of a broken land, the lament of refugees longing for welcome and home. In the dark hours before dawn, we know how the myrrh-bearers felt. We know the unbearable grief. We may even wonder who we are, what our purpose is, or how we can go on.

When the women arrived at the tomb, the stone was rolled back. They hesitated in fear outside, each too frightened to go in alone, and so they decide to venture in together, a fearful little band bound by their love for Jesus and their common duty as myrrh-bearers. Mary Magdalene, Mary the Mother of James, and Salome entered the tomb, anticipating death. But there in the cold stone crypt, still smelling of blood and suffering, the women were shocked to find life. A holy messenger shared the good news that God could take all the evil of their world and work from it a miracle of life.

In the hours before dawn, as the earth rolled on to meet the morning and the last stars faded from the western sky, Jesus rose. He stretched and stood, testing his bruised body. He stepped out of the tomb and into the garden, breathing deep the cool of the dying night. God’s amazing love had broken the power of sin and death.

Mary Magdalene whispered, “Jesus is alive,”

Mary the mother of James gasped, “Jesus has been raised, just as he promised.”

Salome dared to hope, “Jesus has gone ahead to Galilee. We’ll see him there.”

On Easter morning, we dare to imagine that if God can raise Jesus from dead, then surely there is hope for us and all the ways that we are well-acquainted with death. We can trust that, just as God was at work to overcome the world’s sin and hate to raise Jesus, God is at work even now to help and to heal, to raise up the promise of new life.

Yes, we know the grief that comes with the death of our beloved ones, but we also trust that we are raised with Christ. The promise of the life everlasting and the heavenly shore awaits. Rise up!

Yes, we are well-acquainted with failure, but God is faithful and a new day dawns. One day we may love again, or find fresh purpose, or hear the knock of opportunity. Rise up!

Yes, we know the death of friendship and kinship, but if God can win the victory over sin, then maybe with the Lord’s assistance we can pick up the phone or write that letter or ask for help. Rise up!

Yes, we know global death and destruction, but if Jesus is raised, then maybe there is hope for our world yet. We can learn to tread lightly on God’s good earth. Peace can break out in the midst of war. The homeless poor can find home at last. Rise up!

We are well-acquainted with death, but on Easter morning, we join the myrrh-bearers, with great hope and holy fear, for with God the last word is always life.

Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome came to the tomb in the traditional women’s role of myrrh-bearer; yet, they soon had a new vocation. Commissioned by God to be the first gospel-bearers, they rose up. They dropped their flasks of oil, lifted their skirts, and fled back into Jerusalem. Somewhere along the way, they overcame their fear and found their voices. They shared their good news with Peter and the disciples, saying, “Death does not have the last word. God has won the victory! Jesus is risen!”

I suspect that our cousins in the Orthodox tradition are right. Those myrrh-bearers are worthy of our gratitude and remembrance on at least one Sunday a year. They may even have something to teach us. If three women can overcome their fear to rise up and launch a tidal wave of hope and love that laps the shores of today, then think what we can do. We may be well-acquainted with death, but oh the life, sweet life! Let’s trade our myrrh for the gospel, my friends. There is good news to share. Rise up!

Resources

C. Clifton Black. “Commentary on Mark 16:1-8,” in Preaching This Week (Narrative Lectionary), March 27, 2016. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 16:1-8 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Greek Orthodox Diocese of America. “Learn: Sunday of The Myrrhbearers.” Accessed online at https://www.goarch.org/myrrhbearers-learn

Kaufman Kohler. “Burial” in Jewish Encyclopedia. Accessed online at https://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/articles/3842-burial#anchor6.

Nelson Rivera. “Theological Perspective on Mark 16:1-8” in Feasting on the Gospels: Mark. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014.

John Sanidopolous. “Sunday of the Myrrhbearers Resource Page,” Orthodox Christianity: Then and Now, April 30, 2017. Accessed online at https://www.johnsanidopoulos.com/2017/04/sunday-of-myrrhbearing-women-resource.html

Oliver Yarbrough. “Homiletical Perspective on Mark 16:1-8” in Feasting on the Gospels: Mark. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014.

Mark 16:1-8

16When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. ²And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. ³They had been saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” ⁴When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. ⁵As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. ⁶But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. ⁷But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.” ⁸So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

“The Holy Myrrh-bearers.” Accessed online at https://www.allsaintstoronto.ca/services-events/soo-gdthh-2ptfc-lng35-c8gjx-xaf3p

Extravagant Love

March 24, 2024 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Extravagant Love” March 11:1-11, 14:3-9

There are many ways to express love. In Japan, where public displays of affection are frowned upon, you might show your love for your husband by preparing an elaborate lunch and carefully packing it into a bento box to be unpacked later in the break room at work. In Fiji, if you are looking to make a special connection with your father-in-law or seek the forgiveness of someone whom you have wronged, then you would present them with the gift of a tabua—the ivory tooth of a sperm whale. In India, your love for someone and your hope that they might have good health and longevity is expressed in fasting on their behalf. In Alaska, the Tlingit people say that you know someone really loves you when they bring you dried fish.

We have our own ways of expressing love. When someone takes the time to learn our best-loved recipes and cook our favorite meal, we know we are loved. When a doting grandma plies her knitting needles or handpieces a quilt for us, we know we are loved. When a devoted dad spends hours teaching us how to play catch, build models, or tackle quadratic equations, we know we are loved. When someone proposes to us on the jumbotron at Yankee stadium in front of all those baseball fans, we know we are loved.

I suspect each of us has warm memories of feeling specially loved. Those loving moments can bring a smile to our worst day or feel like a lighthouse, guiding us through a storm. Love expressed at the right time, in the right way, may be just what we need to persevere and prevail over the hardship and sorrow that touch every life.

Our reading from Mark’s gospel describes a remarkable and timely act of love.

Jesus and his friends came to Jerusalem to celebrate Passover. The week began with a parade. On Palm Sunday, Jesus, humble and riding on a donkey like the long-promised Prince of Peace (Zech 9:9), traveled up to the Holy City. The pilgrims that surrounded Jesus celebrated, rejoicing with psalms of praise and waving palm branches as if Jesus were one of the Maccabees, newly returned from vanquishing their enemies. They spread their cloaks upon the road, like Israel’s old-time generals pledging allegiance to the new king.

But that week, Jesus would be plagued by the challenge and critique of powerful enemies. Scribes and Pharisees, chief priests and elders, all did their best to discredit and shame Jesus in front of the crowds that seemed to love him so. Soon the city’s mood would turn murderous. Soon his opponents would plot his death. As the week drew to a close, there would be another parade. Jesus, broken and bloodied, would drag a crossbeam through the streets of Jerusalem to his execution. The fans who had welcomed him with pleas of “Hosanna! Save us!” would utterly reject him, shouting “Crucify him!”

Between the Palm Sunday and Good Friday parades, a beautiful thing happened. As Jesus and his friends dined at the house of Simon the Leper in Bethany, their dinner party was interrupted by an uninvited guest: an unnamed woman. She broke open an alabaster jar and poured anointing oil on Jesus. The spikenard was pressed from plants that grew in the foothills of the Himalayas. It had been transported 4,000 miles overland by caravan to Israel. So valuable was this oil that a laborer would need to work 300 days to cover the expense. In today’s economy, where a day laborer might earn $15 an hour, the oil would cost $36,000. Poured out in a single, wildly generous stream, the oil flowed down upon Jesus’ head and over the collar of his robe. The conversation fell silent as the room filled with the sweet fragrance of unimaginable love and generosity.

In first-century Israel, anointing with oil was a gesture of love. In welcoming a guest, a host would offer water for the washing of hands and feet and a few drops of oil to bless the head. In the history of Israel, anointing with oil was a sign of God’s love and blessing for a chosen ruler. When the Prophet Samuel laid eyes on David, he broke out the anointing oil and poured it out on the boy who would one day be king. And, as Jesus indicated, oil was used to anoint the body of a beloved one, purifying and preparing the dead for the grave.

Mark tells us that the men who broke bread with Jesus were outraged by the woman’s action. Indeed, they scolded and shamed her like a bad child or a simpleton. But I suspect that their anger flared less from any genuine concern for the poor and more from the realization that she had done without a single word what they had not. She acted as host, extending a courtesy that Simon the Leper failed to practice. She took on the historically male role of prophet and proclaimed Jesus the Messiah. And she named the elephant in the room: the week would end in death. In the verses leading up to this story, Jesus’ enemies plotted his arrest and execution. In the verses following this story, Judas would accept a bribe to bring about betrayal. In three days, in the time of crisis, not one of the men reclining around the dinner table would come to Jesus’ defense.

Jesus came to the woman’s defense. He spends four verses praising the appropriateness and the timeliness of what she did. Jesus knew the dark truth that he’d soon be hanging from a cross. As the precious oil flowed down, I imagine that Jesus felt extravagantly loved. Like a Japanese husband opening his carefully packed lunchbox. Like a Tlingit person, feasting on the gift of dried fish. Like a child wrapped in Grammy’s homemade quilt. In the darkness of that night, Jesus might have felt as if the sun were shining on him. Perhaps it was the last time in his earthly life that Jesus felt truly loved—special, safe, treasured, appreciated, and understood.

We instinctively know that there is nothing better than extravagant love. We seize it in the moment and wrap it around us like a fiery mantle of glory. We hold it in our hearts as a remedy for the days when we are bullied at school or our best friend decides they’re not going to talk to us anymore or the boss is expecting the impossible or the nightly news leaves us shaking in our boots. Extravagant love is our lifeline in a world where folks want to set limits and attach strings, like the dinner guests buzzing like a nest of angry hornets about the foolishness and waste of what the woman did for Jesus.

Our world tends to limit love, to mete it out in tablespoons, to reserve it for those who “earn” it or “deserve” it, to lavish it upon the successful and the popular and the beautiful. But the unnamed woman with her alabaster jar of costly nard reminds us that God doesn’t work that way. Jesus didn’t work that way. Jesus lavished his love upon six-year-olds and sinners. He poured out his love upon unnamed women and Judas. He lavished his love upon the blind and lame, the deaf and demented, the paralyzed and possessed. Jesus poured out his life in extravagant love for you and for me. Jesus taught us that our highest and only calling in life is to love God and neighbor and self with all that we have and all that we are.

When we get right down to it, the woman with the alabaster jar knew, Jesus knew, we know that our essential calling is to love extravagantly. It’s only our brokenness that makes us want to turn away from the invitation to love. It’s only our sinfulness that prompts us to attach the strings, break out the tape measure, turn a harsh eye of judgment to the world around us, and debate who is really worthy of our generous and loving intent. But we, my friends, are called to love without counting the cost.

The woman with the alabaster jar disappears from the pages of scripture. We never see or hear from her again. Although all four gospels report that a woman anointed Jesus, they don’t agree upon who she was or why she did it or even what part of his body got anointed. Was it the head or was it the feet? But we remember her and the rightness and timeliness of her love. I like to imagine that after she left the home of Simon the Leper, with cheeks flushed by the shame heaped upon her by the men, she shook off the criticism. She held in her heart the words of Jesus. She knew that she had done a beautiful thing. Later, she imagined that as Jesus hung upon the cross, he held onto her love, that it guided him like a lighthouse through the storm, like a lifeline amid the pain and unfathomable sorrow. She continued to love with body, mind, spirit, and every last denarii, despite what the critics had to say.

Let us love extravagantly.

Resources:

Jouette Basler. “Exegetical Perspective on Mark 14:3-9” in Feasting on the Gospels: Mark. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014.

Paul S. Berge, “Commentary on Mark 11:1-11, 14:3-9” in Preaching This Week: Narrative Lectionary, April 1, 2012. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 11:1-10, Mark 14:3-11 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

C. Clifton Black. “Commentary on Mark 11:1-11, 14:3-9” in Preaching This Week: Narrative Lectionary, March 20, 2016. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 11:1-11 or Mark 14:3-9 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Thomas Currie. “Theological Perspective on Mark 14:3-9” in Feasting on the Gospels: Mark. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014.

Carmen Nanko-Fernandez. “Pastoral Perspective on Mark 14:3-9” in Feasting on the Gospels: Mark. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014.

Editorial Team. “Exploring Affection: How Different Cultures Show Love” in Better Help, March 21, 2024.

Mark 11:1-11, 14:3-9

11When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples ²and said to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. ³If anyone says to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.’” ⁴They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, ⁵some of the bystanders said to them, “What are you doing, untying the colt?” ⁶They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it. ⁷Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. ⁸Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. ⁹Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting,

“Hosanna!Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
¹⁰Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

¹¹Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.

³While he was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as he sat at the table, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very costly ointment of nard, and she broke open the jar and poured the ointment on his head. ⁴But some were there who said to one another in anger, “Why was the ointment wasted in this way? ⁵For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor.” And they scolded her. ⁶But Jesus said, “Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me. ⁷For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always have me. ⁸She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial. ⁹Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.”

Photo by eberhard grossgasteiger on Pexels.com

The End Is the Beginning

March 17, 2024 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “The End Is the Beginning” Mark 13:1-8, 24-37

Sometimes the end is the beginning.

Glenn was a young boy when he was terribly injured by a fire at school. Doctors warned his parents that Glenn would likely die, and even if he did survive, the burns to his lower body were so significant that he would be severely handicapped. When he was eventually discharged from the hospital, Glenn had no motor function in his lower body. He was confined to a wheelchair, his thin legs unable to walk.

Kris was a successful thirty-one-year-old actress and photographer, with a growing portfolio of film, advertising, and stage acting credits. She was living her dream when she woke up feeling like she had been hit by a truck. The doctor thought she was having gallbladder trouble—too much rich food and good wine, but tests said otherwise. On Valentine’s Day 2003, Kris was diagnosed with a rare, incurable sarcoma, stage four cancer that was attacking her liver and lungs.

Edward grew up loving the outdoors. His earliest memories were of hiking, rock climbing, and sailing with his father, who was an avid adventurer. By the time he was a teenager, Edward had learned to sky dive and earned a blackbelt in Shotokan karate. After college, he climbed big mountains in Nepal, before enlisting in the military as a paratrooper. In 1996, while on a training mission in Kenya, Edward’s parachute failed to fully open. He survived the fall by landing on the pack on his back, but three vertebrae were crushed by the impact, ending his career as a paratrooper.

Jesus knew his ministry was coming to an end. It was his final week in Jerusalem. The critics attacked him daily, seeking to discredit his teaching. The Romans, always concerned by the threat of insurrection at Passover, were looking for an excuse to set a public example of what happens to dissidents. The chief priests and scribes were plotting Jesus’ arrest and execution. Before the week was out, Jesus would be dead. His followers would scatter, mourning their dashed dreams and failed hopes.

The words that Jesus spoke in today’s lesson from Mark have long been called the little apocalypse. Those frightening images of war, earthquake, famine, the sun going dark, the stars falling from the sky, sound like the end of the world. They sound like the inner chaos and the outer tumult that would soon engulf Jesus’ friends. Their hopes and dreams and messianic expectations were coming to an end. But according to Jesus, God wasn’t finished with them yet. Amid the chaos, uncertainty, and fear, the Kingdom would come. The Son of Man drew near. Indeed, the fearful events of the coming days would be but the birth pangs of a new creation.

We’ve all had times when we felt we were at the end. A marriage begun with the greatest of love grows cold, distant, and dissolves in divorce. The workplace that brought us professional fulfillment and put food on the table hands us a pink slip. Our kid makes some bad choices and winds up alienated from us and in a world of trouble. The doctor gives us that difficult diagnosis, the one that makes our heart skip a beat. No one escapes those unexpected and unwanted “ends” that leave us mourning our dashed dreams and failed expectations. When we are at the end, it is hard to have hope for tomorrow. It’s hard to know what to do. With our plans for the future on permanent hold, we cannot return to the way things used to be, and we cannot imagine how we might move ahead.

Jesus knew that his followers would need words of encouragement to guide them through the days to come when his arrest and crucifixion would feel like the worst end imaginable to their beautiful dream of discipleship. So, he told them the parable of a man going on a journey, who left his slaves in charge of the household. Not knowing the date or time of their master’s homecoming, the servants were called to live with vigilance, as if their master were returning tomorrow. In the years to come, the disciples would need to keep hope alive by working together, encouraging and supporting one another, trusting that although the beautiful dream of Jesus’ earthly ministry had come to an end, God was up to something new and they could be a part of it, showing up each day and doing what was expected of them.

Fred Rogers was notorious for saving quips and quotes that he found inspiring. His wife Joanne said that he clipped them out of newspapers or magazines or copied them from books and kept them in his wallet, next to his neatly folded bills, or in the pages of his planner. After Fred’s death, Joanne and his friends at their production company Family Communications Incorporated were asked to compile a volume of their favorite quotes from Fred, the words that had made them sit up and pay attention or that had struck a chord with Fred’s viewers on “Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood.” The resulting book, The World According to Mr. Rogers, was an instant bestseller, filled with the sort of practical wisdom and kindness that Fred so embodied. One of my favorite quotes from Fred is “Often when you think you’re at the end of something, you’re at the beginning of something else. I’ve felt that many times. My hope for all of us is that the ‘miles we go before we sleep’ will be filled with all the feelings that come from deep caring—delight, sadness, joy, wisdom—and that in all the endings of our life, we will be able to see the new beginnings.” It reminds me of Jesus with his disciples on the Mount of Olives, knowing that his friends’ world was about to end, hoping that they would understand that God would make a new beginning.

The disciples did, indeed, learn that the end can be the beginning. On the far side of Good Friday, there was an Easter Sunday miracle. Jesus rose. He sent his friends forth into the world with the good news of a love that is stronger than death. Yes, life brings endings, but sometimes the end can be the beginning.

I want to circle back to the people I mentioned at the beginning of this message, people who experienced lifechanging, unwanted endings. Glenn, who was terribly injured by a fire at school, decided that he didn’t want to live his life in a wheelchair. One day, left alone in the yard, he overturned his chair, dragged himself over to the fence, pulled himself up, and tried to walk. He did this every day, slowly regaining the ability to stand and walk haltingly. He began to walk to school and eventually to run. He went to college and made the track team. In February 1934, in Madison Square Garden, Glenn Cunningham ran the world’s fastest mile.

Kris Carr, who received that frightening cancer diagnosis, decided that even if her disease was incurable, she would learn to live with it to the best of her ability. She read up on the power of healthy nutrition, exercise, a good support network, clean living, meditation and prayer to help in treating cancer. In fact, she became an expert in the lifestyle that physicians now understand is essential in fighting cancer. Kris decided to share that learning with others. She has written nine NY Times bestselling books and been the subject of the documentary “Crazy Sexy Cancer.” Kris says that her most treasured accomplishment is being able to help people take back their health and feel more empowered. Two decades after her diagnosis, Kris is still going strong.

Edward, who crushed three vertebrae in a parachuting accident, spent eighteen months in intensive rehabilitation. He recovered and went on to become one of the youngest climbers ever to reach the summit of Mount Everest. Better known by his family knick-name “Bear,” he went on to star in seven seasons of the Discovery Channel’s series “Man vs. Wild,” which became one of the most-watched shows on the planet, reaching an estimated 1.2 billion viewers. Bear Grylls describes his Christian faith as the “backbone” of his life, saying, “You can’t keep God out. He’s all around us, if we’re just still enough to listen.”

Just as the disciples—and Glenn, Kris, and Bear—learned, I trust that we, too, will see that our ends just may be beginnings. On the far side of our loss and chaos, on the far side of our dashed dreams and withered hopes, new life stirs. It may not be easy. It may feel slow in coming. But even now God is at work. God is always up to something new, and we can be a part of it. May it be so.

Resources

–. “He suffered severe leg burns as a kid but that didn’t stop Cunningham from winning an Olympic medal” in Scroll, June 15, 2020. Accessed online at https://scroll.in/field/964606/he-suffered-severe-leg-burns-as-a-kid-but-that-didnt-stop-cunningham-from-winning-an-olympic-medal

Glenn Cunningham, the child who was told would never walk again (youtube.com)

Kris Carr. “Celebrating a Decade Thriving with Cancer” in HuffPost, Feb. 21, 2013. https://www.huffpost.com/entry/living-with-cancer_b_2663548

https://kriscarr.com/about#

John Cole. “Pastoral Perspective on Mark 13:1-8” in Feasting on the Gospels: Mark. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014.

Ira Brent Driggers. “Commentary on Mark 13:1-8, 24-37” in Preaching This Week (Narrative Lectionary), March 17, 2024. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/narrative-lectionary/end-of-the-age-2/commentary-on-mark-131-8-24-37-3

Bear Grylls. Mud Sweat and Tears. London and New York: William Morrow, 2013.

About Bear Grylls

Fred Rogers. The World According to Mr. Rogers. New York: Hyperion, 2004.

Lisa Stein. “Living with Cancer: Kris Carr’s Story” in Scientific American, July 16, 2008. https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/living-with-cancer-kris-carr/

Mark 13:1-8, 24-37

13As he came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, “Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!” ²Then Jesus asked him, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.”

³When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately, ⁴“Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?” ⁵Then Jesus began to say to them, “Beware that no one leads you astray. ⁶Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray. ⁷When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. ⁸For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birthpangs.

²⁴“But in those days, after that suffering,

the sun will be darkened,and the moon will not give its light,
²⁵and the stars will be falling from heaven,and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

²⁶Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with great power and glory. ²⁷Then he will send out the angels, and gather his elect from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.

²⁸“From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is near. ²⁹So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that he is near, at the very gates. ³⁰Truly I tell you, this generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place. ³¹Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

³²“But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. ³³Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come. ³⁴It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. ³⁵Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, ³⁶or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. ³⁷And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”

Wholehearted Love

March 10, 2024 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Wholehearted Love” Mark 12:28-44

Progressive Insurance has been having some fun at the expense of young home owners. Have you seen the ads? Dr. Rick “coaches” young adults in letting go of the behaviors that are turning them into their parents. In one ad, he stands next to a dumpster with a young woman who introduces her peers to her tissue box covers. You know the kind made from plastic mesh that has been embroidered with yarn. Dr. Rick reminds her that tissues come in their own boxes, and the tissue box covers go into the dumpster.

Next up is a young man who has been holding onto odd pieces of wooden crown molding because you never know when you might need them.

“I do,” quips Dr. Rick, “Never.” Into the dumpster the crown molding goes.

Another man is next. He proudly displays the automobile floor mats that he has saved.

“Do you still own that car?” Dr. Rick asks. The answer is no and into the dumpster the floor mats go.

Finally, a woman bravely stands next to Dr. Rick. She is holding a large stack of plastic tubs, the kind that margarine comes in. She bravely says, “I know now that plastic is meant for recycling, not for saving my leftovers.”

“This is a big moment, people,” Dr. Rick celebrates.

The tag line on the ad is that Progressive can’t save us from becoming our parents, but they can save us a bundle on our home owner’s insurance. I can’t vouch for the truth of that claim—I’m not a Progressive customer. But I do know that I’ve laughed at the ad and its ability to call into question our assumptions and ways of doing things that may not be the best.

In our gospel reading this morning, Jesus calls into question the assumptions of his followers. It’s a lengthy teaching that begins as a scribe, impressed by Jesus’ teaching in the Temple courts, challenged the Lord to name which of the 613 laws of the Torah was the most important to observe. We all know Jesus’ answer by heart. We are to love the Lord our God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength; and we are to love our neighbor as ourselves. As our gospel lesson continues, we are given a glimpse of life in the Temple during that Passover week. Some worshippers have gotten the imperative to love right. They embody that greatest commandment. While others have fallen short.

Jesus first considered the scribes. For first century Israel, they were models of faithfulness as experts in the Torah. As the scribes enter the courts of the Temple, wearing beautiful, flowing, fringed robes, a way cleared before them. In a sign of respect, other worshippers lowered their voices and bowed their heads. Every so often a scribe would pause in his self-importance to offer a perfunctory prayer. Flowery, empty phrases were heaped up, without heart or soul. The disciples, with their secret longing for greatness, would have been impressed by the scribes, but Jesus saw that they had gotten it all wrong.

With their long years of study, the scribes knew what God required of them: wholehearted love for God and neighbor, especially their most vulnerable of neighbors, especially widows. Because they were unable to inherit, widows were dependent upon the guardianship of others. It was not uncommon for a first century husband to appoint in his will a Jewish legal expert—a scribe—to be the executor of his estate. This gave the executor authority to oversee the widow’s financial well-being. A corrupt scribe found legal ways to swindle a widow out of the provision that had been made for her. According to Jesus, the scribes were devouring for their own benefit the meager means left to the widow. At the heart of it, they loved neither God nor neighbor.

Jesus then wandered into the outer courts and took a seat opposite the treasury and watched the people. The Mishnah tells us that the treasury consisted of thirteen large metal boxes outside the Court of the Women. Those metal boxes had an unusual shape, broad at the bottom and very small at the top, so no one could reach a hand down in and take money out. A large gift made a loud noise as it was dropped, coin by coin, into the funnel and clinked to the bottom. A small gift to the treasury made very little noise.

Of all the gifts made, Jesus saw one as the most extraordinary, but his praise must have sounded ridiculous to the disciples. To begin with, the gift was made by a lowly and vulnerable widow, and the gift this widow made was very, very small. She gave two lepton, two tiny copper coins. Added together, those coins were worth 1/64th of the daily wage for a laborer. In light of today’s minimum wage for New York state of $15 an hour. The woman’s gift would have been $1.88. In the grand scheme of Temple economics, the widow’s gift was practically worthless.

Yet, as only Jesus could, he saw into the widow’s heart and realized that she had made an extraordinary gift—everything she had to live on. The words Jesus used for her offering are holon ton bion autaes, it literally means that she gave, “her whole life.” She alone, of all the worshippers in the Temple, truly loved God with all her heart, soul, mind, and strength.

It isn’t a Progressive ad, but as example stories go, Jesus couldn’t be any clearer. Don’t be like the scribes, whose piety is a big show, whose care for the vulnerable is a sham. Be like the widow, who gives her all for God, even when she has so little. From our twenty-first century vantage point, it’s hard to imagine how counter-cultural—even offensive—this teaching would have been. Instead of patterning themselves after some of the most powerful and spiritually influential people in the nation, the disciples were to identify with someone who was marginal and lowly. This extended example story about the scribes and the widow would have felt like a slap in the face, designed to reorient the disciples to the way of God’s Kingdom.

For those who were poor and vulnerable, however, Jesus’ words would have felt like a treasured affirmation. God wants our whole selves. We can give that, even if we are little, at-risk, even worthless in the eyes of the world. It’s an invitation to live wholeheartedly for God, which according to Jesus also demands that we live wholeheartedly for others.

Rufus M. Jones, one of the most influential Quaker thinkers of the 20^th century, taught that, “God’s life and our lives are bound together, as a vine with branches, as a body with members, so corporate are we that no one can give a cup of cold water to the least person in the world without giving it to God.” Our love and care for neighbors flows from our love for God. Indeed, love is the moral debt we owe to our neighbors, no matter how unworthy we may perceive them to be, because they bear the image of God—male and female, young and old, rich and poor, sinner and saint, widows or even young home owners who are becoming their parents. All are deserving of our love. All are an opportunity to put into action our love for God Almighty.

I imagine that as Jesus called his friends over with praise for the poor widow, he was thinking of another gift soon to be made. The widow’s gift anticipated the offering that the Jesus himself would make. Within days, Jesus would be arrested, unjustly tried, tortured, and condemned to death. Within days, Jesus would carry the cross through the streets of Jerusalem. Within days, he would hang on the cross, flanked by criminals, jeered at by spectators. Within days, Jesus would pour out his very life for the redemption of our world. Jesus would give his whole life—holon ton bion autaes—for us. It’s humbling and reorienting to realize that God has given it all for us.

Every Sunday—especially during the season of Lent when we reflect upon the cross—offers us the chance to be renewed in the way of love. We find the courage to make the counter-cultural choice for love when we begin to consider the enormity of God’s self-giving love for us, a love that was revealed in our Lord Jesus. We turn away from the ways that our piety has become like that of the scribes: showy, perfunctory, empty hearted, empty-headed, and empty handed. On our good days, we may even dare, like that poor widow to give our whole selves—holon ton bion autaes—in love for the Lord, who has given so much for us, who comes to us in the guise of our neighbors.

May we go forth to love wholeheartedly.

Resources:

N. Clayton Croy. “Commentary on Mark 12:28-44” in Preach This Week (Narrative Lectionary), March 6, 2016. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 12:28-44 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Ira Brent Driggers. “Commentary on Mark 12:28-44” in Preach This Week (Narrative Lectionary), March 10, 2024. Accessed online at Commentary on Mark 12:28-44 – Working Preacher from Luther Seminary

Ashley Fetters Maloy. “Afraid of becoming your parents? Dr. Rick comes to the rescue, smartly satirizing a generational divide” in The Washington Post, March 16, 2021. Accessed online at The story behind Dr. Rick of the Progressive insurance ads – The Washington Post

Victor McCracken. “Theological Perspective on Mark 12:28-34” in Feasting on the Word: Year B, Vol. 4. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009.

Progressive Insurance ad Bing Videos

Mark 12:28-44

²⁸One of the scribes came near and heard them disputing with one another, and seeing that he answered them well, he asked him, “Which commandment is the first of all?” ²⁹Jesus answered, “The first is, ‘Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one; ³⁰you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength.’ ³¹The second is this, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than these.” ³²Then the scribe said to him, “You are right, Teacher; you have truly said that ‘he is one, and besides him there is no other’; ³³and ‘to love him with all the heart, and with all the understanding, and with all the strength,’ and ‘to love one’s neighbor as oneself,’ —this is much more important than all whole burnt offerings and sacrifices.” ³⁴When Jesus saw that he answered wisely, he said to him, “You are not far from the kingdom of God.” After that no one dared to ask him any question.

³⁵While Jesus was teaching in the temple, he said, “How can the scribes say that the Messiah is the son of David? ³⁶David himself, by the Holy Spirit, declared,

‘The Lord said to my Lord,
“Sit at my right hand,until I put your enemies under your feet.”’

³⁷David himself calls him Lord; so how can he be his son?” And the large crowd was listening to him with delight.

³⁸As he taught, he said, “Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, ³⁹and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets! ⁴⁰They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers. They will receive the greater condemnation.”

⁴¹He sat down opposite the treasury, and watched the crowd putting money into the treasury. Many rich people put in large sums. ⁴²A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which are worth a penny. ⁴³Then he called his disciples and said to them, “Truly I tell you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the treasury. ⁴⁴For all of them have contributed out of their abundance; but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”

Climate Change and the Cornerstone

March 3, 2024 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts -“Climate Change and the Cornerstone” Mark 12:1-12

The numbers are in. Worldwide, this February was the warmest February on record. Across Europe, ski resorts closed when snow melted to mud from France to Bosnia to Italy. Wildfires, spurred by record heat, killed 133 people in Chile. In Tokyo, the cherry blossoms were out a full month earlier. When the numbers are confirmed in a couple of weeks by the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, this February will mark the ninth consecutive month in which the temperature record has been broken. The world is warming.

We don’t need to travel to Bosnia, Chile, or Tokyo, to affirm that climate change is real. Consider Lake Champlain. Matthew Vaughan, chief scientist with the Lake Champlain Basin Program, reports that from 1816 until 1950 the lake froze over almost every winter. Now, the lake freezes about once in four years. By 2050, we can expect the lake to freeze only once in a decade. The last time the lake froze was five years ago in March 2019. That’s bad news for our cold-water fish, like lake trout and Atlantic salmon. It’s bad news for swimmers, boaters, and wildlife, too, as toxic bacterial and algae blooms increase with the warming water.

Here in the Tri-Lakes we are feeling the changes. No snow meant no Winter Fun Day this year. How crummy is that?! Warming winters have brought a surge in ticks and tick-borne illness, like Lyme Disease and anaplasmosis. Heavy rain, characterized by a storm of two inches or more, is falling more frequently. Last year, we saw record-breaking rain in the summer and road closures from flooding in the winter. This past week, we saw hazy skies as smoke swept south from Canada, which in the past year has recorded record-setting wildfires fires in Alberta, British Columbia, the Northwest Territories, Nova Scotia, Ontario, and Quebec.

If you are like me, you live here because it is glorious. We love our little corner of God’s good earth. In fact, we feel amazingly close to God in all this beauty. But, let’s face it, the good earth is changing, and it has us worried.

Our reading from Mark’s gospel tells the worrisome story of some wicked tenants who occupy a vineyard and refuse to honor the claims of the vineyard owner. As Jesus related this story, he was in Jerusalem for the Passover. Things weren’t going so well. Sure, he had made a triumphal entry to the city, but it got complicated fast. Scandalized by the corruption and greed that he saw in the Temple courts, Jesus had turned over tables and disrupted business. That made him some powerful enemies. Chief priests, scribes, and elders confronted Jesus and challenged his authority. Soon the minions of Herod would try to entrap him with questions about paying taxes, and the religious and economic elite of Jerusalem—the Sadducees—would be in his face with questions about the resurrection.

Jesus answered his critics with this tough, exaggerated story of judgment. A landowner lovingly planted a beautiful vineyard and entrusted his good creation to tenants before going away on a long journey. From the start, there was trouble. The tenants held the absentee landlord in contempt and seemed to think the vineyard existed to serve their own economic interests. Any landowner in his right mind would have evicted the tenants and called in the law to teach them a painful, violent lesson. But Jesus described a landowner who didn’t know when to quit. Merciful to the point of foolishness, he repeatedly sent servants, prophets, messengers—even a beloved son—to confront the tenants with the truth and return them to the right path. But sending those messengers didn’t work in the story any more than it would work that Passover week in Jerusalem. As Jesus spoke about the violence that the beloved son encountered in the vineyard, Jesus was alluding to the violence that he soon would endure: Jesus himself outside the walls of the city, nailed to a cross, and breathing his last. As Jesus concluded his parable, he invited his critics to pass judgment. Mark says that they knew that Jesus was talking about them; they were behaving like wicked, greedy tenants, holding God in contempt, bent on rejecting and murdering the beloved son.

Eric Baretto, who teaches New Testament at Luther Seminary in St. Paul, teaches that parables, especially parables of judgment like this one, are meant to shock the conscience—kind of like when your parents used to give you the “Come to Jesus” talk. We listen to this parable and we side with the vineyard owner. We are outraged by the treatment of the messengers and the son. But the shock to our conscience is that we are actually the tenants, profiting from the vineyard, denying and abusing anyone who confronts us with uncomfortable truth, treating God with contempt.

Nowhere does this feel more uncomfortably true than when we consider our warming planet, this glorious vineyard that has been entrusted to our care. It is a scientific fact that we are the cause of the increased greenhouse gas emissions that are warming our planet. NASA reports that the four major gases that contribute to the Greenhouse Effect are all driven by human activity. Carbon dioxide is generated by burning fossil fuels and deforestation. Methane is emitted by the livestock we eat. It comprises seventy to ninety percent of the natural gas we burn, and it leaks from fossil fuel production and transportation. Nitrous oxide is released during fertilizer production and use, as well as in the burning of vegetation. Chlorofluorocarbons do not exist in nature—they are entirely of industrial origin: refrigerants, solvents, and spray-can propellants. We are the problem. We’ve been bad tenants, feeling entitled to profit from the planet. We don’t heed the warning cry of the prophetic voices that call for change. Jesus might caution us that Judgment Day is coming.

Jesus followed his tough parable by quoting Psalm 118: the stone that the builders rejected would become the cornerstone. In other words, even though all those powerful critics would reject Jesus, God would have the last word. The cornerstone is the first stone set during the building process. Every stone in a structure is set in relation to the cornerstone. In the ancient world, it was believed that the position of stars and planets regulated life, fortune, and success; therefore, cornerstones were commonly placed facing the Northeast because it was thought that this location would bring harmony and prosperity to the building and its owners. A ceremonial ritual marked the placement of the cornerstone. Builders would place a sacrifice, such as wine, grain, water, or even blood, atop the cornerstone and dedicate it to their gods. Jesus’ words about the cornerstone tell us that his death would be the offering that would mark the building of something new. He would be the cornerstone, because he had been and would always be aligned with God’s creative intention when the world was first spoken into being.

Jesus’ allusion to the cornerstone was a hard-to-hear invitation to critics to not be so hasty in their rejection of him. It was an uncomfortable reminder that God is the great architect and builder of their world. Not the chief priests, scribes, and elders, not the Herodians or even the Sadducees. God Almighty had a plan that they could either honor or reject, building their lives around the cornerstone or choosing to go their own way at great peril and impending judgment.

Perhaps this morning, Jesus’ words about the vineyard and the cornerstone can serve as an invitation to us. We can continue to exploit our planet for personal profit at great peril to ourselves and our children and grandchildren—and all creation. Or, we can be reoriented in our custody of the vineyard that God has entrusted to our care. We can trade our wicked tenancy for a faithful reverence. We can work to honor the beauty and balance, the vulnerability and limit, of a world created from the very stuff of God.

What might it look like for us to faithfully tend the Lord’s vineyard? Dr. Janel Hanrahan, associate professor of atmospheric sciences at Northern Vermont University, has devoted her professional life to studying the effects of our warming world on the Great Lakes and Lake Champlain. She says there is plenty to worry about out there. But “the best thing about climate change is that humans are the cause. So that means that we also have a huge role in what happens moving forward.”

Even simple measures taken in our own homes can reduce our greenhouse gas emissions and make us better stewards of the planet. Bring your own reusable cup or coffee mug instead of using single use plastics or disposable paper products. Change up the lighting by replacing inefficient bulbs with high quality LEDs that use a fraction of the energy. Turn down the thermostat by two degrees, cutting energy use and saving three to five percent on the heating bill. Wash clothes in cold water. Most of the energy used in doing a load of laundry comes from warming the water itself. Bike more, walk more, and drive less. Eat less meat and dairy. Use your voice. Write, call, or visit government representatives about environmental issues—like Caroline Dodd did this past week, participating in the Adirondack Park Lobby Day in Albany.

This vineyard we inhabit isn’t ours. It belongs to God, who shaped it with great patience and infinite love over billions of years. We can honor that—or reject it at great peril to the planet and all creation. We can choose to adopt simple everyday measures that tread lightly on the earth. We can model this good tenancy for our children. We can share it with our neighbors. We can demand it of our elected officials. We can lay the cornerstone for a future where we fulfill God’s expectation that we will care well for the vineyard. May it be so.

Resources:

Eric Baretto. “Exegetical Commentary on Mark 12:1-12” in Feasting on the Gospels: Mark. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014.

Chloe Bennett. “First installment of state climate assessment points to a warming Adirondacks” in The Adirondack Explorer, Jan. 18, 2024. Accessed online at https://www.adirondackexplorer.org/stories/state-climate-report-adirondacks

Brianna Borghi. “Why Lake Champlain isn’t freezing over as often as it used to” in NBC 5 News, Feb. 23, 2024. Accessed online at https://www.mynbc5.com/article/why-lake-champlain-isnt-freezing-over-as-often-as-it-used-to/39194456

Jake Spring. “Spring came early: February likely warmest on record amid climate change” in Reuters, Feb. 29, 2024. Accessed online at https://www.reuters.com/business/environment/spring-came-early-february-likely-warmest-record-amid-climate-change-2024-02-29/

Kat Kerlin. “18 Simple Things You Can Do About Climate Change” in Climate Change, Jan. 8, 2019. Accessed online at https://climatechange.ucdavis.edu/climate/what-can-i-do/18-simple-things-you-can-do-about-climate-change

NASA. “The Causes of Climate Change: Human activities are driving the global warming trend observed since the mid-20th century.” Accessed online at https://climate.nasa.gov/causes/#:~:text=Human%20Activity%20Is%20the%20Cause,air%20to%20make%20CO2.

Dean Thompson. “Homiletical Commentary on Mark 12:1-12” in Feasting on the Gospels: Mark. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2014.

Bill Whittaker. “The Little-Known Purpose of the Cornerstone,” July 24, 2019. Accessed online at https://www.billwarch.com/blog/the-little-known-purpose-of-the-cornerstone/

Mark 12:1-12 [13-17]

12Then he began to speak to them in parables. “A man planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a pit for the wine press, and built a watchtower; then he leased it to tenants and went to another country. ²When the season came, he sent a slave to the tenants to collect from them his share of the produce of the vineyard. ³But they seized him, and beat him, and sent him away empty-handed. ⁴And again he sent another slave to them; this one they beat over the head and insulted. ⁵Then he sent another, and that one they killed. And so it was with many others; some they beat, and others they killed. ⁶He had still one other, a beloved son. Finally he sent him to them, saying, ‘They will respect my son.’ ⁷But those tenants said to one another, ‘This is the heir; come, let us kill him, and the inheritance will be ours.’ ⁸So they seized him, killed him, and threw him out of the vineyard. ⁹What then will the owner of the vineyard do? He will come and destroy the tenants and give the vineyard to others. ¹⁰Have you not read this scripture:

‘The stone that the builders rejectedhas become the cornerstone;
¹¹this was the Lord’s doing,and it is amazing in our eyes’?”

¹²When they realized that he had told this parable against them, they wanted to arrest him, but they feared the crowd. So they left him and went away.

Joann White

writer, pastor, spiritual director, and enthusiast of wild places

A Time to Wait

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “A Time to Wait” Acts 1:1-11

Acts 1:1-11

A Wider Welcome

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “A Wider Welcome” Acts 10:44-48

Acts 10:44-48

Abiding in Christ

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Abiding in Christ” John 15:1-8

John 15:1-8

Good Shepherds

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Good Shepherds” John 10 and 1 John 3:16-24

John 10:1-26

Start Where You Are At

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Start Where You Are At” Luke 24:36b-48

Luke 24:36b-48

Rise Up!

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Rise Up!” Mark 16:1-8

Mark 16:1-8

Extravagant Love

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Extravagant Love” March 11:1-11, 14:3-9

Mark 11:1-11, 14:3-9

The End Is the Beginning

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “The End Is the Beginning” Mark 13:1-8, 24-37

Mark 13:1-8, 24-37

Wholehearted Love

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Wholehearted Love” Mark 12:28-44

Mark 12:28-44

Climate Change and the Cornerstone

Sabbath Day Thoughts -“Climate Change and the Cornerstone” Mark 12:1-12

Mark 12:1-12 [13-17]