Songs and Stories for Eastertide

April 12, 2026 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts (and songs) — “Songs and Stories for Eastertide” John 20:19-29

This message includes hotlinks for each of the hymns. Click and sing along, if you wish!

Our first hymn features words originally written in Latin in the fifth century. These lyrics have been sung by Christians to celebrate the resurrection for more than 1,500 years! The Medieval melody was adapted by the German composer and organist Michael Praetorius in 1609. Praetorius was born Michael Schultze, the youngest son of a radical Lutheran pastor. Perhaps to distance himself from his father, Michael latinized his name from Schultze to Praetorius during his university studies.

We use the term “Renaissance man” to describe very versatile people with multiple specialties. By that definition, Praetorius certainly qualifies. He served as an organist, choirmaster, music theorist, and royal court official. As such, he composed a lot of music—and somehow found time to write an encyclopedic treatise on music that scholars have found very useful for more than 400 years.

Praetorious studied at Frankfurt and was organist and eventually court musician to Duke Heinrich Julius. After his patron’s death in 1613, Praetorius spent more than two years at Dresden, where he heard and was influenced by the intricate melodies and harmonies of the latest Italianate music. In his last years, he was asked to visit many German courts as a director, performer, and consultant. Zealous for the advancement of music, he had a predilection for rich and varied settings for voices and instruments. His musical encyclopedia was published in nine volumes between 1605 and 1611. It contains a whopping 1,244 chorale settings for sacred music. When he died in 1620, he was entombed beneath the pipe organ of his home church, the Marienkirche in Frankfurt. Let us sing “That Easter Day with Joy Was Bright.”

That Easter Day with Joy was Bright (PUER NOBIS NASCITUR)

Our next Easter hymn reflects the musical style of the 1970s charismatic church movement, which was heavily influenced by folk music. The Charismatic movement emphasized baptism in the Holy Spirit and the active operation of spiritual gifts (charismata) among believers. These gifts include speaking in tongues, prophecy, healing, and discernment of spirits. Charismatic Christians believe these gifts are manifestations of the Holy Spirit’s presence and power in the lives of people today. The boom in charismatic hymns was prompted by the accessibility of the guitar and the sing-ability of the tunes, especially for those worshipers who were unaccustomed to choral singing or liturgical (service) music.

This hymn was composed by Donald Fishel. He joined the Word of God, a charismatic Catholic community based in Ann Arbor, MI, where he was the group’s music leader and orchestral conductor from 1969 to 1981. Fishel’s principal instrument is the flute. He has taught and performed in a number of settings, including serving as principal flutist with the Dexter Community Orchestra in Dexter, MI. “Alleluia, Alleluia! Give Thanks” was the first church music that Donald Fishel ever composed. According to Fishel, it came together very quickly – in about an hour! Let us sing “Alleluia, Alleluia! Give Thanks.”

Alleluia, Alleluia! Give Thanks

Our next hymn features the beautiful hymn tune Suo Gan, a traditional Welsh lullaby written by an anonymous composer. It was first recorded in print around 1800. The words of the hymn were written by John Bell and Graham Maule. Bell is a minister in the Church of Scotland, a fellow of the Royal School of Church Music, and a member of the Iona Community. He gives music workshops throughout the United Kingdom and the United States. Bell is passionate about the importance of congregational singing. He says that Christian singing should lead to Christian action. His words often express the thirst for social justice and the Kingdom of God.

Bell says, “My frustration is that the church’s singing is full of churchy words. We don’t have songs with a word like economics in them, or a word like kitchen. A substantial amount of biblical witness tells us God is interested in economics. We know that much of Jesus’ time was spent in kitchens. But we are disenfranchised from singing about some realities in his and our lives.” As you sing “Christ Has Risen While Earth Slumbers,” listen for ways that Bell expresses the real experience of people in the pews.

Christ has risen while earth slumbers HD

Our next Easter carol uses the allegory of the dying and rising of grain to allude to Christ’s resurrection. The lyrics were written by Anglican clergyman, author, and hymnwriter John Macleod Campbell Crum. His grandfather was the Scottish minister and Reformed theologian John Macleod Campbell, who was controversial for his preaching of universal atonement – the belief that Christ died for all humankind. This view conflicted with the teachings of the Church of Scotland. His scandalous belief led to a “presbyterial visitation.” A representative group of the leaders from the Church of Scotland appeared at his church one Sunday morning to hear Rev. Campbell and examine him. They didn’t like what they heard. He was accused of heresy and forced to leave the Scottish church.

Influenced by his grandfather’s thought and experience, John Macleod Campbell Crum emphasized that the good news of Jesus Christ is for all people. As you sing the hymn, pay attention to verse four. It celebrates the power of God to raise hearts to new life, even when we feel dead and barren. The hymn has had great appeal in Great Britain where it is sung in churches and has been recorded by popular musicians like Steve Winwood, David Harbottle, Laura Wright, and the King’s College Choir. Let us sing “Now the Green Blade Rises.”

Laura Wright – Now The Green Blade Rises

Our next hymn, “The Day of Resurrection,” teams 8^th century words by John of Damascus with a lively 19^th century English tune. John of Damascus was an Arab Christian monk, priest, and defender of the faith. John was born to a prominent Syrian family. His father was intent upon John receiving a classical education, and so the boy’s tutor was a monk by the name of Cosmas, who was kidnapped by Arab slave-traders from his home in Sicily. Seeing the value of such a devout and learned slave, John’s father paid a great price for Cosmas.

John served as a civil servant for the Caliph in Damascus before his ordination. He then became a priest and monk at the Mar Saba monastery near Jerusalem. Perhaps his greatest service to the church was his defense of icons, holy images used to invite worshippers to prayer and reflection. John’s greatest opponent on the matter of icons was Emperor Leo III. In an effort to discredit John, Leo sent forged documents to the Caliph of Damascus which implicated John in a plot to attack the city. The Caliph was outraged and ordered John’s right hand be cut off and hung up in public view.

According to tradition, some days afterwards, John asked for his hand back. He prayed fervently to Mary the mother of our Lord before her icon, and his hand was said to have been miraculously restored. In gratitude for this healing, he attached a silver hand to the icon, which thereafter became known as the “Three-handed Mary” or Tricherousa. The icon can still be seen in the Hilandar monastery in Mount Athos, Greece. Let us sing “The Day of Resurrection.”

Hymn “The Day of Resurrection” | Lancashire

Our final hymn is “Woman, Weeping in the Garden.” The words tell the story of Mary Magdalene and her transformation from weeping to dancing as she encountered her risen Lord on Easter morning. The words were written by Daniel Charles Damon.

Daniel remembers that when he was in high school, he told his Grandpa Damon that he might want to become a minister. His Grandpa questioned whether young Daniel had the right stuff, “That’s the highest calling there is,” Grandpa said. Looking at his grandson’s long hair and bangs that hid much of his face, Grandpa said more, “You know, you can tell a man’s intelligence by the width of his forehead.” Clearly, Daniel’s conservative Free Methodist grandfather did not approve of his grandson’s church aspirations, so much for that idea.

After graduation from Greenville College, Daniel taught high school band and choir in South Dakota before moving to San Francisco to work full-time as a jazz musician. He found a job at a sing-along piano bar called the Curtain Call.

After a few years of making a living playing in hotels and restaurants, Daniel was burning out on the bar scene when a conversation with his pastor sent him back on a path to seminary at the Graduate Theological Union. There, Daniel discovered a deeper sense of calling to be a pastor and a hymnwriter. He served a number of small California churches where he preached, played the piano, led congregational singing, directed choirs, and even typed the bulletins.

Daniel often writes hymns on social justice themes. The way we treat people is very important to him. He has written hymns for children, women, the elderly, people living with disabilities, and for the poor and the oppressed. If his conservative Grandfather were still alive, he would undoubtedly not approve. That’s ok with Daniel. Let us sing “Woman, Weeping in the Garden.”

Woman Weeping in the Garden

John 20:19-29

¹⁹When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors were locked where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” ²⁰After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. ²¹Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” ²²When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. ²³If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”

²⁴But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. ²⁵So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

²⁶A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” ²⁷Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.” ²⁸Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!” ²⁹Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

Roll Back the Stone

April 5, 2026 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Roll Back the Stone” Matthew 28:1-10

We all carry stones.

Almaza a-Sultan shoulders the stone of injustice in her life in a Gaza refugee camp. Although her family has no connection to Hamas, their home was destroyed by bombs early in the Israel-Hamas War. Life in the camp is tough. Almaza and her daughters cut their long hair because there were no cleaning products or shampoos, and lice are rampant in the filthy living conditions. The few hygiene products available on the market are exorbitantly priced, far beyond the means of homeless refugees. Sometimes Almaza’s husband goes to bombed homes to scavenge. When he returns with a leftover piece of soap, they rejoice because they can shower properly and feel as if they are born again.

Sharon carries the stone of failure and dashed dreams. She filed for divorce after eight years of marriage. She loves her husband. She remembers those hopeful early days they shared, but then his addictions and poor choices made life terribly hard: jobs lost, savings blown, erratic—sometimes frightening—behavior, promises broken, repeated attempts at rehab failed. One day, Sharon knew that for the sake of her children and her own well-being, they had to leave. She feels guilty and ashamed. She weeps for the sweet possibility that came to such a bitter end.

Ronnie is burdened by the stone of grief. Ronnie and his wife Jenny were high school sweethearts who raised a family and forged a happy life. A few years ago, Jenny was diagnosed with bone cancer. She underwent surgery which took her lower leg. Then, she went through chemo with its debilitating side effects. When the cancer came back after a brief remission, Jenny was admitted to a clinical trial for a new immunotherapy. It sounded promising, yet didn’t work. They decided to stop treatment, and within weeks, Jenny died. Ronnie is glad that his wife is free from pain and suffering. He believes in God and heaven. He just doesn’t know how to live without Jenny.

Matthew’s gospel tells us of the two Marys walking to the tomb in the pre-dawn darkness. Like Almaza a-Sultan, the Marys knew the stone of injustice. They had seen the Lord of love arrested in the deep of the night and marched off to a secret hearing at the home of Caiaphas. There he was beaten, convicted on false charges, and sentenced to death. The Marys saw Jesus handed over to the Romans, who charged the peaceful Jesus a second time, on charges of insurrection. Then the Romans did what empires do best: silenced opposition with brutality and death. The Marys saw the injustice of a good and innocent man crucified between two common thieves.

Like Sharon, the Marys knew the stone of failure and dashed dreams. They loved Jesus, had provided for him from their own purses. They had been filled with starry-eyed hope for a new world order where God ruled, the poor could be filled, those who weep would be comforted, the meek would inherit the earth, and love would prevail. But as they walked to the tomb on that terrible morning, their hopes had failed and the promise of possibility had been drowned out by mocking priests, gambling soldiers, and the crowd’s cries of, “Crucify! Crucify!” When the Lord breathed his last, only the women were there to weep at the foot of the cross. The Kingdom that Jesus promised seemed utterly defeated by the twin powers of Temple and empire.

On Easter morning, we all carry stones. We carry the stone of injustice, of a broken world torn apart by violence, greed, hate, and lust for power. We carry the stone of dashed dreams, of relationships begun in hope only to die at the hands of poor communication and indifference, hardened hearts and the inability to forgive. We bear the stone of failure—businesses closed, degrees never earned, opportunities missed, jobs lost. We carry the stone of grief: the loss of ability, the slow creep of age, the death of beloved ones who leave behind an unbearable hole in our hearts. We all carry stones. What is the stone that you bear this morning?

Every gospel writer remembers the story of the resurrection a little differently. In Mark’s original ending, the women flee the tomb in terror and silence. In Luke, the women come bearing spices to tend Jesus’ body. John remembers Mary Magdalene weeping alone in the garden. Matthew pays special attention to the stone. Indeed, in Matthew’s gospel, after the crucifixion, we are allowed to listen in on a meeting between Pilate, the chief priests, and Pharisees (MT 27:64-66). Afraid that Jesus’ body will disappear and the disciples will claim a resurrection miracle, Pilate takes special steps. The grooved track in front of the tomb is fitted with an enormous capstone to block the entrance. Next, an imperial seal is placed to secure the entrance and warn of the consequences of defying the emperor. Finally, two Roman guards are stationed to prevent any mischief. In Matthew’s gospel, the women do not carry spices or oil. In Matthew’s gospel, the women simply come to see the tomb, to weep and say goodbye, numbed by sorrow, disappointment, and the weight of the stones they bear.

On that first Easter morning, despite their burdens, the two Marys went to the tomb. There, as the dawn stretched above the horizon, roosters crowed to greet the dawn, the sleeping city began to awaken, and the women learned that God was at work to confound the death-dealing powers of this world. It would be God, who would have the last word. Like a flash of lightning, the barrier between heaven and earth was broken, the earth shook, the grave’s seal was broken, the stone rolled back and fell away, and God’s messenger took a victorious seat on that symbol of imperial power. Pilate’s intimidating guards were rendered powerless.

In the mystery of an empty tomb, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary learned that God had overcome the earthly powers of empire and Temple. In the mystery of an empty tomb, the women understood the limitless power of God’s love, which could face head-on the crushing stones of injustice and shame, dashed dreams, failure, and death and work from it all a miracle of life. The women’s stones were real and big, but God’s love was every bit as real and even bigger.

As the two Marys fled back into the sleeping city on a holy mission to share their good news, they encountered Jesus, who greeted them with words they needed to hear. “Do not be afraid.” Then the women did what the moment called for: they worshipped Jesus, falling at his feet with tears of joy and cries of “Alleluia!” Mary Magdalene and the other Mary realized that although life brought injustice and dashed dreams, failure, and death, they could bear all that would make their hearts tremble. They could rise and go forth with courage because they would not be alone. Jesus would be with them to roll back the stones that they could not.

The women were commissioned a second time by Jesus—to go and tell what they had seen. I like to imagine the two Marys holding hands and running through the streets of the waking city. They must have felt oddly light and hopeful, brimming over with the simple knowledge that although life brings heavy stones, love prevails. God had fought the battle and won the victory. With news that good, they could face their stones and live with joy.

On this Easter morning, we come bearing stones—the stones of injustice and dashed dreams, failure, grief, and death. Yet, at the empty tomb, we remember that love prevails. The empire and the Temple, the cross and even death itself do not have the last word. God does. God can take the worst that this world has to offer and work from it a miracle of life. The stone rolls back and we see possibility. The stone rolls back and we find hope. The stone rolls back and we know that we are cherished beyond limits by God, who loves us enough to bear our stones, die for us, and rise for us.

So perhaps on this Easter morning, we can be a little like the Marys. We can go forth into the world with hope and joy. We can draw near to those who labor beneath the stones of all that holds us captive. We can bear the news of a holy love that is more than a match for this world’s pain, the love that is stronger than death. For the people of Gaza, like Almaza a-Sultan, we can remember them, seeking their safety and justice in a world that has already moved on to the latest catastrophe of war. For friends like Sharon, who struggles with the dashed dreams of a failed relationship, we can offer our compassion, encouragement, and hopes for a better tomorrow. For folks like Ronnie, who live with the heartbreak of grief, we can listen and simply walk with them through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. We can share the promise that on the far side of death waits the promise of eternal life.

It’s Easter morning, my friends. Christ is alive. Let us go forth to roll back the stone.

Resources

Almaza a-Sultan’s story of her life in Gaza is from Voices from Gaza, Feb. 25, 2026. Accessed online at btselem.org.

Martha Moore Keish. “Theological Perspective on Matthew 28:1-10” in Preaching on the Gospels, Matthew, vol. 2. WJK Press, 2013.

Ephraim Agosto. “Exegetical Perspective on Matthew 28:1-10” in Preaching on the Gospels, Matthew, vol. 2. WJK Press, 2013.

Barbara Brown Taylor. “Homiletical Perspective on Matthew 28:1-10” in Preaching on the Gospels, Matthew, vol. 2. WJK Press, 2013.

Matt Skinner. “Commentary on Matthew 28:1-10” in Preaching This Week, April 5, 2026. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/resurrection-of-our-lord/commentary-on-matthew-281-10-14

Judith Jones. “Commentary on Matthew 28:1-10” in Preaching This Week, April 5, 2026. Accessed online at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/resurrection-of-our-lord/commentary-on-matthew-281-10-9

Matthew 28:1-10

28 After the Sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. ²And suddenly there was a great earthquake, for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. ³His appearance was like lightning and his clothing white as snow. ⁴For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men. ⁵But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. ⁶He is not here, for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. ⁷Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.’ This is my message for you.” ⁸So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy and ran to tell his disciples. ⁹Suddenly Jesus met them and said, “Greetings!” And they came to him, took hold of his feet, and worshiped him. ¹⁰Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers and sisters to go to Galilee; there they will see 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.

From Sheep to Shepherd

May 8, 2022 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “From Sheep to Shepherd” Acts 9:36-43

The noise was deafening. Widows of every age surrounded me. Some cast back their heads in ululation. Others sobbed in lament. Some pressed upon me the work of her hands, pointing to a finely woven flax tunic, a weighty woolen shawl, or the fine tracery of crimson embroidery threaded along the cuff of a sleeve. “Help us, help us! Who will help us?” they pleaded. I looked over to the husband, who sat on a bench in the courtyard, nearly catatonic with grief.

I was still fairly new to this apostle thing. In fact, I had considered giving up after the resurrection. In all honesty, I had proven to be a fairly worthless disciple. I thought I knew it all. I slept when I should have been praying. I ran when I was needed to stand my ground. In the Chief Priest’s courtyard, I had cursed in fear and panic, insisting that I didn’t know the Lord, had never met him, had nothing to do with him. If the resurrection had convinced me of anything, it was of the greatness of God, the holiness of my Lord Jesus, and my utter worthlessness as a disciple.

In fact, I had returned to my home in Galilee and the familiar work of fishing. The waves on the water, the heft of the net in my hands, the rise and fall of the boat under sail. But I had proven to be a failure even at what was my birthright. Then, in the early morning on the rocky shore with the smoke of the charcoal fire in my eyes and the taste of grilled fish and fresh bread on my tongue, the risen Lord had restored me to my purpose. “Do you love me?” he asked. “Tend my flock,” he commanded. For the love of Jesus, I was trying.

Now if ever there were sheep without a shepherd, these women were it. Across the Great Sea, the Greeks and Romans do things differently, but here we live by the Old Ways. Our women do not have inheritance rights. The death of a husband or a grown son leaves a woman at the mercy of a new patriarch, and some are by no means merciful. That was obvious. A toothless crone with two canes wailed at my elbow. A cross-eyed woman with an addled brain babbled for my attention. An emaciated young mother, with two small children clinging to her skirt, sobbed hopelessly. A bald woman with a goiter the size of a pomegranate held up an intricately woven kerchief.

From their stories, it was clear that Tabitha – or I should say Dorcas – had been their shepherd. She had clothed them, fed them, and provided for them from her own purse. Her death was a tragedy for all. It started with a cough, followed by the spike of a fever. Her breathing had grown labored, her breath fetid. Within a few days, she was gone. Now these lost sheep surrounded me with their tears and the ridiculous expectation that I should raise the dead. They pushed me up the stairs, shoved me into the upper room, closed the door, and continued their non-stop racket.

The room was dark. I crossed to the window, parted the curtains, and opened the shutters, flooding the room with light and a sea breeze. Near the window, where the light was the best, stood a loom, threaded with a work in progress. Across the room, the body lay on a bed, shrouded by a woolen pall. I peeled back the cloth. Dark curls, like soft clouds, surrounded a kind face with creases left behind by years of smiles. She wore a simple linen tunic. Her hands were folded on her chest above her heart and she held an olive-wood cross. So natural and peaceful. I placed my hand on hers and shrank back from the cold flesh, inert and lifeless.

I began to pace, as is often the case when I am worried, anxious, or angry. What was I doing? Who was I to raise the dead? What would happen when I failed, as I undoubtedly would? I had agreed to tend the flock, but I didn’t sign up for this. All those expectations of the keening widows pressed in on me. I felt like I was the one wrapped in a pall, a shroud of their lament. I began to hyperventilate. “Feed my sheep?” I wheezed. “Thanks a lot, Jesus.”

“What seems to be the problem, Peter?” I knew that voice better than my own. He stood with his back to the window, his face in shadows. The sunshine, flooding into the room, seemed to shimmer and surge around his silhouette. I stopped hyperventilating.

“Jesus!” I shouted, half-angry, half-relieved. “C’mon. you don’t expect me to raise this woman. Do you? I can’t do it! I can’t!” It may have been my imagination, but the wailing in the hallway outside the room seemed to escalate.

Jesus nodded, as he often did when I stated the obvious. “No, you can’t do it, Peter.”

This wasn’t helping my confidence at all. I paced some more while he watched. I stopped and pointed at him accusingly, “You could do it! You raised Jairus’s daughter. I was there. I saw her smile. I saw her stretch her arms up to be held. How about the widow of Nain’s son, hopping off his funeral byre as if her were embarrassed to be caught napping? Remember, Lazarus? Three-days-dead and stinking, you called him out of the tomb. You can do it! You can do it! But I’m not you.”

Jesus agreed, “No, you’re not.”

I paced some more. I couldn’t do it, but Jesus could. I shot a look at him where he was now leaning with an elbow on the window sill, and I swear, he raised his eyebrows like he does when he is waiting for me to draw an obvious conclusion. I stopped.

“Are you really here, Lord?”

Now, he was smiling. “Didn’t I promise to be with you always, Peter, even to the end of the age?”

He had made that promise. He had even sent his Holy Spirit as a perpetual reminder. As Jesus pushed away from the window and took a step closer to me, I felt the Spirit ripple within me. It was obvious. I turned away from Jesus and looked over at the peaceful and thoroughly dead Tabitha—or should I say Dorcas? “I can’t do it,” I said again, “but you can.”

I moved toward the bed. The sun warmed my back and moved along my limbs. I stepped closer still to the body and my shadow fell across her face. I raised my arms with power and words of authority that were mine, but not mine, sounded loud. “Tabitha! Get up!”

The first thing I noticed was the slow throb of a vein, pulsing at her temple. Next, her chest began to gently rise and fall with the soft swell of her breath. Her mouth opened in an enormous yawn and a hand fluttered up to cover it. Here eyelids blinked open, once, twice. “O, Jesus! You came!” she smiled.

I whirled around to see if the Lord was still behind me at the window. The room was empty. The curtains fluttered in the sea breeze, the threads dangling from the loom danced in the shifting air. Beyond the door, the keening of the women was undiminished and someone had broken out a shofar, blowing long, slow, mournful notes.

I bent down and took the hand of the no-longer-dead woman. She was still clutching the olive wood cross but had kicked off the woolen shroud and was wiggling her toes. I helped her up. “Sister,” I said to the puzzled Tabitha, “I know some people who will be happy to see you.”

As I opened the door and guided her through, there was a moment of stunned silence. Then, mourning shifted to joy. There were glad shouts of recognition and fervent alleluias. Tears of joy streamed down jubilant faces. The crone brandished her canes in celebration. The fool sang a psalm of rejoicing. The two children danced, hand-in-hand with their mother. The woman with the goiter could only repeat, again and again, “Glory be to the great God of Israel, holy be His name!” Arms reached out to Tabitha, touching, hugging, holding. Tabitha was swept downstairs and out into the streets in a parade of rejoicing that they are still talking about in Joppa to this day.

I lingered in the upper room, leaning against the sill where the Lord’s elbow had rested, watching the celebration on the street below. I still felt that I was not very good at this apostle thing. Thank goodness that no one had been in the room with me to witness my panic. But I learned that it is not so much about me as it is about Jesus. Nine times out of ten, I can’t do what is asked of me. I can’t rise to the expectations that they have for me. But Jesus can, and even when I walk through the darkest valley, he is with me.

Acts of the Apostles 9:36-43

³⁶Now in Joppa there was a disciple whose name was Tabitha, which in Greek is Dorcas. She was devoted to good works and acts of charity. ³⁷At that time she became ill and died. When they had washed her, they laid her in a room upstairs. ³⁸Since Lydda was near Joppa, the disciples, who heard that Peter was there, sent two men to him with the request, “Please come to us without delay.” ³⁹So Peter got up and went with them, and when he arrived, they took him to the room upstairs. All the widows stood beside him, weeping and showing tunics and other clothing that Dorcas had made while she was with them. ⁴⁰Peter put all of them outside, and then he knelt down and prayed. He turned to the body and said, “Tabitha, get up.” Then she opened her eyes, and seeing Peter, she sat up. ⁴¹He gave her his hand and helped her up. Then calling the saints and widows, he showed her to be alive. ⁴²This became known throughout Joppa, and many believed in the Lord. ⁴³Meanwhile, he stayed in Joppa for some time with a certain Simon, a tanner.

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

Fed, Forgiven, Sent

May 1, 2022 / reverendjoannwhite / Leave a comment

Sabbath Day Thoughts — “Fed, Forgiven, Sent” John 21:1-19

“Feed My Sheep”

—Mary Baker Eddy

Shepherd, show me how to go

“O’er the hillside steep,

How to gather, how to sow—

How to feed Thy sheep;

I will listen for Thy voice,

Lest my footsteps stray;

I will follow and rejoice

All the rugged way.

Thou wilt bind the stubborn will,

Wound the callous breast,

Make self-righteousness be still,

Break earth’s stupid rest.

Strangers on a barren shore,

Lab’ring long and lone,

We would enter by the door,

And Thou know’st Thine own;

So, when day grows dark and cold,

Tear or triumph harms,

Lead Thy lambkins to the fold,

Take them in Thine arms;

Feed the hungry, heal the heart,

Till the morning’s beam;

White as wool, ere they depart,

Shepherd, wash them clean.”

What’s next? It’s the question of the Easter season. The sanctuary is still decked in Easter white, but the lilies are beginning to fade. The Easter crowd has ebbed and may not be seen again until Christmas Eve. Yet, we have rejoiced together and affirmed that Jesus has risen and God has won the victory over sin and death. So, what are we to do and how are we to live in this post-resurrection world? Our reading from John’s gospel suggests that Eastertide is all about being fed, finding grace, and going forth in Christ’s purpose.

What’s next? That question must have been on Peter’s mind. After the disciples encountered the risen Lord on Easter evening, they had made their way back to the Galilee. After the chaos and trauma of Good Friday, Peter must have felt the comforting pull of the familiar, and so he returned to the well-known rhythms of fishing. With six of his friends, he climbed into a boat, pushed out into deep water, and spent a fruitless night casting his nets.

As the sun rose above the Golan Heights, Jesus stood on the beach and guided his friends to a surprisingly bountiful catch. When the disciples returned to shore, Jesus knew that folks who have been out all night long, rowing and towing a drag net, need to be fed, so he invited them to a breakfast of bread and fish, grilled on a charcoal fire. Have you ever noticed how good food tastes when it is fresh, simply prepared, and eaten outdoors? As the disciples filled their bellies in Jesus’s good company, I suspect they felt “fed” in more ways than one.

We all need to be fed. If life is a spiritual journey, then we need good food to sustain us along the Way. In our Lenten Study this year, a dozen of us considered what sustains us along life’s spiritual journey. We all need nourishment. We all need ways in which we connect with God — because it is there that we find the refreshment and energy that are needed to live faithfully. In fact, the class brainstormed a list of things that are bread for our journey. On the list were worship, scripture, the Lord’s Supper, meditation and prayer, fellowship, nature, the arts, and more. How are you fed for the spiritual journey? This Easter season invites us to know the risen Lord and to deepen our relationship with him. As we spend time with Jesus — in church, with others, or in nature — we are filled and energized.

I am certain that, as Peter enjoyed that fish breakfast on the beach with Jesus, the apostle was struggling with guilt and shame. After all, he had promised to follow Jesus, even if the way led to suffering and death. But on the night of Jesus’s arrest, fear had gotten the better of Peter. The last time that Peter had warmed his hands at a charcoal fire, he had been in the courtyard of the high priest. There he had repeatedly and vehemently denied even knowing Jesus. Jesus, seeing his friend’s inner turmoil, gave Peter a second, third, and fourth chance—a Mulligan, a “do-over.” Peter found much-needed grace and forgiveness as he affirmed his love for Jesus three times. It was the perfect, poignant remedy to those three haunting denials.

We all need mercy and grace. We may not have denied Jesus three times to save our own skin, but we all stumble and fall short in right living. We have treated our relationship with Jesus as an after-thought to be sprinkled around the edges of our lives at our personal convenience. We have made mistakes in our personal lives. We have been impatient with our spouse, insensitive to our children, or unavailable for our friends. We have remained silent at injustice, indifferent to suffering, and unwilling to share with those who need our help, compassion, and generosity. Where do you need grace this morning? In this Easter season, we remember the enormity of God’s love for us. If Christ can forgive a repentant thief, his executioners, and the Apostle Peter, then we can trust that Jesus forgives us. In this Easter season, we can trust that grace and forgiveness abound for us.

As Peter was fed and forgiven, he learned that Jesus had a purpose for him. The Lord asked Peter to feed and tend the flock that was being entrusted to his care. Through Peter, Jesus would continue to reach out, heal, and bless a world that was desperately hungry for good news. When we read the Book of Acts, we note that Peter answered that calling. Peter would heal a lame beggar on the doorstep of the Temple. He would raise from the dead the beloved Dorcas, who had so generously cared for the widows of Joppa. Peter would venture into enemy territory, taking the gospel to the household of Cornelius the Centurion in Caesarea. Through Peter, and those other disciples who answered Jesus’s call, Christ’s love would be made known and shared from one side of the Roman Empire to the other.

Jesus continues to entrust his ministry to flawed people like Peter, to flawed people like us. Jesus’s flock needs faithful people who will love and feed them, and the Lord trusts that we, too, will reach out with healing, help, and blessing for neighbors who hunger for good news. When we plant the church garden and we bring food offerings to the pack basket at the side entrance, the flock gets fed. And when we pray for others in the Prayers of the People or share concerns with the Prayer Chain, the flock is tended. When the deacons reach out with calls and cards, or we invite a hurting friend to church, the flock is blessed. In this Easter season, we find our purpose and fulfill our calling when we answer Christ’s call to love and serve the neighbors that he entrusts to us.

What’s next? It’s the question of the Easter season. What are we to do and how are we to live in this post-resurrection world? According to Jesus, Eastertide is all about being fed, finding grace, and going forth in his purpose. May it be so.

“Shepherd, show me how to go

O’er the hillside steep,

How to gather, how to sow—

How to feed Thy sheep;

I will listen for Thy voice,

Lest my footsteps stray;

I will follow and rejoice

All the rugged way.”

Resources:

Thomas Troeger. “Homiletical Perspective on John 21:1-19” in Feasting on the Word, Year C, vol. 2. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009.

Gary D. Jones. “Exegetical Perspective on John 21:1-19” in Feasting on the Word, Year C, vol. 2. Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009.

Robert Hoch. “Commentary on John 21:1-19” in Preaching This Week, April 10, 2016. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

Joy Moore. “Commentary on John 21:1-19” in Preaching This Week, May 5, 2019. Accessed online at workingpreacher.org.

David Lose. “Two Things Everyone Needs” in Dear Partner in Preaching, April 5, 2016. Accessed online at davidlose.net.

Longyear Museum. When The Heart Speaks: Feed My Sheep. Poems by Mary Baker Eddy set to music in the Christian Science Hymnal. October 1, 2021. Accessed online at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8xI1J5sGbEM

John 21:1-19

21 After these things Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he showed himself in this way. 2 Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his disciples. 3 Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We will go with you.” They went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing.

4 Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. 5 Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They answered him, “No.” 6 He said to them, “Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. 7 That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. 8 But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, only about a hundred yards off.

9 When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. 10 Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” 11 So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them; and though there were so many, the net was not torn. 12 Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, “Who are you?” because they knew it was the Lord. 13 Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. 14 This was now the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.

15 When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.” 16 A second time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.” 17 He said to him the third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter felt hurt because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” And he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep. 18 Very truly, I tell you, when you were younger, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.” 19 (He said this to indicate the kind of death by which he would glorify God.) After this he said to him, “Follow me.”

Joann White

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

Eastertide