Fantasies or Visions

Easter 5C; Acts 11:1-18; Rev. 21:1-6; Jn. 13:31-35; St. Paul’s; 4/24/2016

Jim Melnyk: “Fantasies or Visions”

When I was a youngster I used to daydream about playing Major League Baseball for the Yankees – roaming the outfield or snagging ground balls at second base – knowing quite fully that I lacked the skill to ever see that happen.  Later in life, as a young man, I would still have my daydreams – these brought on by former Yankee Jim Bouton, who though his arm was ruined, developed a knuckle ball and made it back to the big leagues.  If I could just master a knuckle ball – just think of what I could do – wearing pinstripes and pitching for the Yankees.

Daydreams – fantasies – things “conjured up” in our minds that “seldom kindle any real change in our consciousness” (The Rev. Martin L. Smith, Sojourners Online, Preaching the Word, 4/24/2016).  Fantasies can be fun, but in the end, unless we happen to be skilled writers or producers who can weave a great storyline, they do little more than entertain or keep us preoccupied or distracted.

Visions, on the other hand, can be life-changing.  They can be for us an “interruption of newness” that “reveals a vista of possibility and creativity” – a revelation that opens us to new realities – to new promises (ibid).  Visions, when considering our lives from the perspective of faith, speak to us of God’s inbreaking presence in our lives, and in the life of the world.  Visions, in these settings, are open invitations from God to participate in the coming kingdom, or communion, of heaven – invitations to participate in the unfolding of that reality in our very midst.

Today’s lessons offer us three visions – four if you count the Psalmist’s vision of the whole of creation rising up to praise God – all of them have to do with new and promising life in this world.  Along with those visions is one memorable commandment: a commandment which weaves its way through all four visions, and is foundational to our life in Christ.

Visions are challenging because they demand that we step out of our current realities and see life as it could be.  Visions are challenging “interruptions of newness” which take us out of our comfort zones – they are “interruptions of newness” that invite us to consider the Dream of God – that invite us to consider, and then act in ways conversant with God’s Dream for this world.

Theologian Walter Brueggemann points to Peter’s witness in Acts.  When challenged by Jewish followers of Jesus about his conduct in accepting gentiles into the faith, Peter recounts [to them] “step by step,” like he’s talking to a room filled with children, “his vision concerning all sorts of ‘unclean animals’ and the voice of ‘the Spirit’ that led him to ‘not make a distinction’ between clean and unclean. His narrative is about the force of God’s purpose crashing against all established social protocols to make something new possible.”  Peter “ends with a rhetorical question: ‘Who was I that I could hinder God?’” (Sojourners Online, Preaching the Word, 4/24/2016). 

By breaking open the doors of faith to the gentiles – to the “uncircumcised” – Peter understands how in Christ “God is reaching out to include all who have been excluded or regarded as second-class by our tribal passions. Peter, [it seems, understands] that he, [along with] all the followers of Jesus, are under a new commandment, [a commandment] that readily violates usual social arrangements (John 13:34-35).” Brueggemann puts it, “The Spirit that crosses boundaries is the presence of the risen Christ” (ibid).

To see how others in the Church understood what was taking place in the preaching of Apostle’s like Peter and Paul we need only look further to the vision from John as he lived out his exile on the island of Patmos: “And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them as their God; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them…” (Rev 21:2-3).

The author of Revelation will go on to say of the Holy City, “The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their glory into it. Its gates will never be shut by day—and there will be no night there. People will bring into it the glory and the honor of the nations” (21:24-26).  The author’s vision is that of God dwelling in the Holy City with all nations coming through its many gates to receive healing and new life from God.  No distinctions.  No divisions.  No one left outside the Holy City.  The Spirit of God crossing all boundaries in a movement of “generous love” for all people (Brueggemann).

Finally we hear the vision Jesus proclaims among his followers and friends on the night he was betrayed.  Facing arrest, torture, and death, Jesus has a vision of the glory of God, as well as the glory that awaits Jesus in the days to come.  Although evil and death will apparently win the battle in the coming hours, that victory will be short-lived.  God’s power over death will be revealed in all its glory on Easter Day, and the movement that victory will spark will change the world.

The fruit of Jesus’ vision of glory finds its fulfillment in how we love one another.  Peter’s and John’s visions are a witness to the power of that love.  In two short verses of John 13 we find three sentences with the command to love one another strung together and building upon one another – all pointing to the foundation of Jesus’ vision of glory for those who choose to follow him.  Those verses are unambiguous, they are without exception, and they are undeniable in their meaning: “’I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another”’ (13:34-35).

Author Barbara Berry-Bailey writes, “According to Jesus, the prime directive for us as people of God is simply this: to love one another—to love one another as Jesus loved us ... to go deep within ourselves to hear the still, small voice; to go deep within ourselves to feel the strength of those everlasting arms; to go deep within ourselves to rise to meet the challenge to love when everything else in our society tells us to strike out in fear, when everything else in our society tells us to lash out in hatred or to release anger in a violent manner” (Barbara Berry-Bailey, Synthesis Today, 4/202016).  Or as poet/priest Ernesto Cardenal puts it, “God's love is the water we drink, the air we breathe, and the light we see” (Ernesto Cardenal, Synthesis Today, 4/19/2016). 

Our love for God, our love for our neighbor, and our love for the stranger – the sojourner living among us – should be as real as the water we drink, should be as real as the air we breathe, and should be as real as the light we see.  This is God’s vision for us as proclaimed by the life, death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Fantasy is so much easier than vision.  Daydreaming about life is so much easier than living out our lives.  As fun as the fantasy may be, I will never roam the outfield or pitch for the New York Yankees, just as I may never perfectly emulate Christ in my life.  The difference is this: that while the former, playing for the Yankees, will never happen for me, the latter, emulating Christ in my life, always has the promise of possibility – if only because of God’s Holy Spirit dwelling in me.  And the same is true for each one of us.

What Will You Do With My Love?

Easter 4C; John 10:22-30 St. Paul’s Smithfield, NC 4/17/2016

Jim Melnyk “What Will You Do With My Love?”

Taking a stand on anything can set us up for critique – just try talking Blue Devils/Tarheels during any season – and don’t even get me started on the Carolina Gamecocks versus the Tarheels.  So it’s no wonder that taking a stand centered in the Gospel – centered in the teachings of Jesus – and speaking out for compassion, for justice, or for mercy often turns heads and causes consternation for a lot of people.

Have you ever noticed?  All it takes is one voice – one voice speaking for the disenfranchised, for the oppressed, for the forgotten, or for the unloved, and people start to get uneasy – or angry.  Sometimes folks start to get worried and begin wondering, “Are they talking about me?” or “How will all this crazy Jesus talk affect me?”  And so those who find themselves in love with power or authority or comfort – those whose lives are comfortable and secure, especially at the cost of others – well, a word spoken to those in such powerful places is a disconcerting word at best.  The powerful find themselves tempted to ask, “What are you up to?  What are you trying to prove?  What are you trying to pull over on us?”

The leaders in Jerusalem where asking deep, metaphysical questions of Jesus – “Just who are you, anyway, Jesus?”  “How long will you keep us in suspense?” they ask.  “Tell us plainly!”  The phrase in their ancient idiom actually translates, “How long will you keep on killing us?  How long will you keep on annoying us – badgering us?  Just come out with it, Jesus!  Are you the Messiah or not?”  You see, Jesus is keeping them on pins and needles. 

They can’t figure out which way to turn – what to do with this peasant troublemaker from the sticks in Galilee.  If Jesus were to say “No, I’m not,” they could simply dismiss him and the crowds would eventually get tired of him and leave.  If Jesus were to say “Yes,” they could charge him with blasphemy, and hopefully still, the crowds would leave – perhaps out of fear of being tarred with the same brush.

But Jesus will have nothing to do with them.  “Look at who I am,” he says.  “Consider what you’ve seen and heard – let your own eyes and ears tell you.  But,” Jesus seems to be saying to those in power, “But, until you’re actually ready to hear – until you’re actually read to see and believe – whatever I tell you will make no sense.  No matter what I say, you need to decide for yourselves just who it is that I am.”

Jesus, with his one, small voice proclaiming the compassion of God, stirs up the people’s spirits until he becomes a bona fide threat to the power of the religious and political leaders of his day.  Jesus’ message of compassion – his message of mercy – his message of justice – his message of the love of God made present among them – gets in their faces, and their hard-heartedness and anger become their own judgment.

Just a few moments earlier in the encounter – in verses we read on other years for the Fourth Sunday of Easter – Jesus claims the title of “Good Shepherd,” the One who hears the cry of his people – the One who knows their voices, and whose voice is known by all.  He also calls himself to be the very Gate through which the sheep enter safely, and the One who stands watch at the gate so that no thief may break in.  Jesus is the Good Shepherd, the One who is willing to lay down his life for his sheep, even when those who claim to be the shepherds of Israel will not.  And this One Voice is too much for those who have claimed the role of shepherd for so long.

Those hearing Jesus call himself the Good Shepherd cannot help but be mindful of the rich metaphorical history of shepherds in the stories of their faith.  Moses was a shepherd when God called to him out of a burning bush and sent him back to Egypt to shepherd God’s people out of slavery into freedom.  David was a young shepherd who was not even invited to the celebration when the prophet Samuel eventually anoints him the new king of Israel.  Rulers who abused the people during time leading up to the exile were described by the prophets, and therefore described by God, as negligent shepherds who didn’t care for their flock.  And suddenly here is this no-account Jesus – one of the sheep, mind you – putting the shepherds on their ears and taking from them their title.

But as much as Jesus is unwilling to play word games with his antagonists, he can’t resist pushing them from a different direction.  When Jesus claims, “The Father and I are one,” he’s making more than a metaphysical statement the Church will end up debating ad nauseam in the third and fourth centuries.  What he’s saying has a down-to-earth, real-life, meaning to it.  See me – see God.  In Jesus there is a palpable presence of God – and through Jesus there is a uniquely new way of understanding and knowing God.  “The Father and I are one. 

We speak with one voice – we speak with one agenda – we speak with one goal – the reconciliation of all humankind – the reconciliation of the whole of creation with the very God of creation.

“For God so love the world,” that God gave us God’s only son – to be a vision – to be a voice – to be the presence and the promise of God’s saving love for all people for all time.  In Christ Jesus we receive an over abundance of God’s love poured out for us – and poured out within us: a veritable love-fest for all of creation – but a love that’s meant to make a difference in this world – a love that says to us, “I don’t make junk – it’s time for you to start loving one another.”

The Good Shepherd’s voice is the voice of love that asks us, “What will you do with my love?  How will you let my love for you – how will you let my love for this world – change your life?  Where will it stand you on your head?  When will it turn your heart inside out?  When will it give voice to the song that sings in your heart, that stirs your soul, and makes your spirit long to dance?”  The Good Shepherd’s voice is the voice of love that asks our world, “When will you stop drawing lines in the sand that separate you from one another, and separate you from God, and start drawing circles that welcome each other into my love?”

Speak out for compassion – speak out for justice – speak out for mercy – proclaim a love of God that welcomes all rather than excludes – and you’ll freak out more than a few folks.  It happens when Jesus tries it – and it happens today.  Speak out about gun violence, or about homelessness, or healthcare, or hunger and heartache, and a lot of folks feel threatened.  Speak out against discrimination in its too many poisonous guises, and folks will get antsy.  And sometimes even though we agree that these things need to be addressed, we get angry with one another over how they should be fixed.  Put it in terms of the Gospel and then we’ve gone from preaching to meddling.  Speak out about the love of God in the fullness of its glory, and there are people who will feel threatened!  Surely God couldn’t love that person, or that group, or people who believe that way!

People will feel threatened by the love of God because it’s the kind of love that turns tables upside down and hearts inside out.  Speak about the love of God in all its radical reality and some will turn and walk away – because it’s the kind of love that changes people’s lives – it’s the kind of love that changes people’s hearts – it’s the kind of love that makes a difference in this world – the kind of love that can make this a different world – and not everyone wants to see those changes. 

The love of God is the kind of love that challenges us – that moves us – that pushes us – that prods us – the kind of love that makes our hearts sing and our hands work – it’s the kind of love that makes us want to be better people – it’s the kind of love that makes us want to be better followers of Jesus.

Not About the Doubt

Easter 2C, John 20:19-31; St. Paul’s, 4/03/2016

Jim Melnyk: “Not About the Doubt”

I have rarely visited the West Coast in my life.  On two occasions my uncle took me to a beach just north of San Francisco near Reyes Point. 

On the second trip I was looking forward to my return to this particular beach.  Our son Jake was with me and I wanted him to experience the beauty I had experienced nearly three years before.  We had to hike down a long trail alongside a deep ravine to get to the beach itself.  I remembered my visit to a long, crescent-shaped stretch of sand and rock which was bordered by high cliffs.  Far off to the left I knew we’d find a huge outcropping of rock – perhaps 30 – 40 feet high.  I remembered how awesome it felt to climb those rocks and just sit there for a while, watching the wild Pacific Ocean waves smash on the boulders just below my perch.

But the beach was different the second time around.  My first clue came as we reached the end of the trail.  Nearly three years prior – in the late summer – I had stepped almost directly onto the beach from the path.  On the return trip – this time in early spring – we had to scramble down a high rock face to reach ground level.  We came out from between the cliff walls to what was for me a completely different, foreign beach. 

The large outcrop of rock I had climbed once before was still there – complete with crashing waves and wild spray!  But strewn across the beach between us and our destination were smaller outcroppings of rock I did not recall, amid a field of huge boulders – some more than six feet in diameter – and a whole lot of smaller stones – with almost no sand anywhere in sight.  There were hundreds of rocks – of all shapes and sizes.  It didn’t take long for us to realize there were just too many stones, haphazardly piled against one another, for us to even try walking to the end of the beach.             

Apparently the beaches in that area change rather drastically from season to season. 

It seems that during the winter a lot of the sand gets pulled away from the shore, only to get dumped back in place by summer’s end.  The rocks that blocked our way were there three years before – just buried under tons of sand.  Though geographically this was the same beach I had visited not so very long ago, my experience didn’t bear that out – it was as if they were two completely different places.  Time, tide, and experience made it so.

That beach reminds me of the Gospel reading for today.  The Christian faith – our stories and our experiences – are a lot like my beach.  We don’t hear and experience Holy Scripture today the same way it was experienced when first proclaimed and then written down somewhere around the year100 in the Common Era.  And in fact, those hearing and experiencing this Gospel story when it was first written down and shared most likely heard and experienced the stories in a way different from those who walked with Jesus, John, Thomas and the others, some 70 years before. 

It’s a little like comparing the same beach years apart – but not just three years apart, but 70 years, and then a couple thousand years apart.  Below the surface there is something that is the reality of the beach – the reality of many different faith experiences – but on the surface life seems quite different.  Which beach – which faith experience – is the more real?

When we read John’s Gospel account – one of the four accepted Gospels of Jesus in our canon of Holy Scripture – we get a particular view of Jesus – and a particular view of Thomas.  And every year on the Second Sunday of Easter we read the same story about Thomas.  He’s the one who, according to John, was always trying to figure out what Jesus was saying, but never quite getting it right.  He’s the one who just knows in his heart Jesus is going to Jerusalem to die – well, he got that part right – and figures the disciples ought to go and die with him – though their deaths would all come much later. 

Thomas is the one who, when Jesus says, “You know where I’m going,” replies, “We don’t know what you’re talking about!”  Thomas is the one who is missing when Jesus first shows up in the Upper Room, breathing the Holy Spirit upon those gathered.  “Where was he, anyway?” is a question we might be tempted to ask, but can never actually answer.  Thomas is branded as the one who doubts – the one who demands proof – asking for what the other disciples have already received.  The picture we get of Thomas from John is less than flattering, and it is quite possible that what we have in John’s Gospel is actually evidence of a dispute between followers of John and followers of Thomas.  The author of John seems to go out of his way to paint a questionable picture of the disciple Thomas.

But you may recall that there are other stories of faith that show Thomas to be a faithful chronicler of the life and teachings of Jesus.  The Gospel of Thomas – one of the so-called “lost gospels” – perhaps as old as John’s Gospel – offers other views of what Jesus may have taught his disciples – other views of what we should know about Jesus and those of us who still follow him.  And perhaps, as Biblical scholar and author Elaine Pagels suggests, Thomas’ Gospel view lost out as the newly formed church struggled to understand and show Jesus in a totally unique light.

More so than the three synoptic gospels (Matthew, Mark and Luke), John paints a picture of Jesus as the unique Son of God – not only One who points the way to God, though this is a real part of John’s Gospel – but One who is the divine Logos – the preexistent Word made flesh – and the only true expression of the Living God. 

Thomas, on the other hand, gives us a Jesus who teaches the fullness of God in all living beings – the Light that is within us – the Spirit who is within us and who is from God and of God.  John tells us, in many ways, that the only way to God is through Jesus. 

Thomas tells us that the way to God is found within us because the Spirit of God is within us as well.  We can even catch glimpses of this in today’s lesson from John – when Jesus sends his disciples out with the power of Holy Spirit to live out his ministry – or in other places when Jesus tells his followers, “The kingdom of heaven is within you” (Luke 17:21).  Or even, “The Holy Spirit will enable you to do greater works than I do” (John 16:13).

Two theologians: John and Thomas.  Two experiences of Jesus.  Two ways of life and faith – like two seemingly different beaches that, in the end, are the same place.

It would have been easy for me to accept only one version of the beach if that was all I had experienced.  Faced with two different experiences, the temptation for me is to decide which of the two incarnations of beach is the right one, or the better one, or even perhaps, the more real of the two.  But both were expressions of the reality of that particular beach.

We, as followers of Jesus, can struggle to live with one right way of knowing and experiencing Jesus – one better or more real way of experiencing the promise of God as it’s made known to us in Christ.  Lord knows there are enough Christian groups today who say, “Not only is Jesus the only way to God; but that our way – our particular faith tradition is the only way to Jesus!” 

We can continue to say year after year, “Poor old Doubting Thomas – he just didn’t have enough faith!”  Or, we can look more deeply at the richness and diversity of the early church’s experience of Jesus – both the Jesus who walked the dusty streets of Galilee and Jerusalem, as well as the Risen Christ who came declaring “Peace be with you” to fearful followers behind locked doors.

Today’s Gospel at its best says something about the uniqueness of Jesus and the presence of God in each of us.  It tells of the importance of meeting and receiving Jesus as he makes himself known to us; and in realizing the gift of God’s Holy Spirit dwelling within each of us – making us ministers of Christ’s reconciling love – making us more and more into the image of God in Christ – allowing us to do things we once thought only Jesus could do. 

The depth and breadth of early Christian experience may well remind us that there’s more to Jesus than meets the eye or finds its way into our daily and Sunday lectionaries – and just perhaps there’s more to Jesus and God in each of us than meets the eye or gets told in the “official” stories of our faith.

Perhaps when Jesus says, “The kingdom – or the community – of God is within you,” it’s the honest-to-God’s truth.  We just need to decide what we’re going to do with that!  Amen.