Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread. Luke 24:35

If your house is like mine, you probably get a lot of catalogues – some for things you are interested in, and others are for items you would never have any intention of buying. I sometimes enjoy looking at the catalogues that feature T-shirts with various sayings, and one of my favorites of the years has read: “Life is a journey. Take snacks and a magazine.” On one level, this saying takes a truth of some depth and moves it to a humorous and day-to-day reality. Life is a journey; it takes time; you’ll need some sustenance along the way; you might be a little bored or lonely at times; there will be occasions when all you can do is wait for the next thing to happen. All of this is wrapped up in that little quip.

The idea of faith and following Jesus as a journey is central to understanding what it means to be a Christian. And today’s Gospel reading makes that very clear. The setting is Easter day. In Luke’s version of the Resurrection, he names the women who went to the tomb as Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary (the mother of James), and some others. They went to Jesus’ place of burial, found the stone rolled away, and the tomb empty, and were very puzzled. Then two angels appeared, announced that Jesus had been raised from the dead, and reminded the women of what Jesus had told them before the Crucifixion. When they went back to the apostles and told them what they had seen and heard, they were not believed. Peter went to look for himself, but found only the empty tomb, and was more confused than ever.

This is where today’s passage picks up. Two of Jesus’ followers had set out for the village of Emmaus – we don’t know why – sad, and full of the momentous events of the last three days, and they encounter a stranger walking on the road with them. He engages them in conversation. He gets the disciples to tell him all about the things that have so rocked their world, and their sadness, and incomprehension.

This stranger than takes them to task: “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe!” And he takes them through a Bible reflection on the Scriptures and what they have to say about the Messiah. You’d think at that point those disciples would have gotten a clue as to who this stranger was, but that’s not the way it works – for them, and so often for us. Sometimes we are so focused on what we think, or hope, or expect that Jesus will do for us, that we miss his actual presence and purpose in our midst.

Why does that happen? Sometimes it’s because we have preconceived notions of how God will act, just the way we sometimes do with people in our lives, as in: “If you really loved me, you would….” act in this way, or stop doing that, or some other litmus test of the other person’s affection and commitment. Other times we miss seeing Jesus because our conception of God is too small. We get so stuck in a mechanistic world view that says only what we can see, touch, hear, taste, analyze, quantify is real and anything else is not possible, a fantasy, that we miss God’s mighty deeds and miracles. On the other hand, sometimes we expect and long for God to intervene in our lives by waving a magic wand and making things all better. There have been many times I’ve wished that this could be true. But if we expect dramatic magic-wand action we will miss the powerful, but sometimes subtle, shifts of hearts and minds that may not make everything all better, but absolutely give us hope in God’s strength and goodness.

One of the aspects of Christian faith being a journey is that we learn, over time, all these different ways that God acts. Through trial and error, through practice and experience, through listening to the Holy Spirit - in Scripture, in conversation with others, and in the still, small voice in our own hearts – we learn to recognize and discern Jesus’ presence.

The disciples on the Emmaus road walked with the Risen Christ, they had a conversation with him, they listened to him discuss the Scriptures – God’s big story. And when they described this journey later, they realized that their hearts were burning within them. But even before they had words for their experience, they offered an act of hospitality; they invited this stranger to stay with them because it was getting late – time for the evening meal and a rest. And the stranger accepted their invitation. We don’t know where they were staying – at an inn, at the house of a friend, or even their own house; no matter. When they sat down to dinner, their guest took the round loaf of bread that was the staple of their meal, and gave thanks to God:
Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech Ha’Olam Hamotzi lechem min haaretz.
Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the Universe, Who brings forth bread from the earth.

He then broke the bread and gave it to them, just as he had done at the Last Supper. It was then that the disciples recognized that this was their friend Jesus, their rabbi, their Lord and Messiah, risen from the dead, just as the women had told them. And Jesus disappeared from their sight, one of those resurrection comings and goings for which the best we can say is that the reality of God’s realm we call heaven and our earthly existence overlap in wonderful and unpredictable ways.

For Luke’s Gospel, this is the first reported Resurrection appearance. We need to pay attention to that. Luke is telling us that Jesus is most often found on the journey, outside our comfort zone, in the presence of strangers, when reading and discussing the Scriptures, when offering hospitality, when breaking bread with others, in the bread and wine of the Eucharist. It was true for the first disciples, and it is just as true for us today – we who follow in Jesus’ Way. But don’t expect a big flashing neon sign to say: Jesus is here! You may get those signs, and you shouldn’t rule them out, but more often you’ll find the presence of the Risen Lord on the road, on the journey, bit by bit. But always sustained by the breaking of bread – knowing that at every feast Jesus is both the Host and the Guest; the One we invite by our words, our prayers, by welcoming the stranger into our midst. Jesus is the One who welcomes us with all our questions, problems, loneliness, grief, pain, and joy and says: Welcome – wherever you are, I am with you, and you are home.

When we walk this way with Jesus, when we practice opening ourselves in hospitality and welcome, when we put aside our fear of the stranger (whether the stranger is a person, an idea, a part of ourselves we don’t want to acknowledge, or the depths of Scripture that may be unfamiliar to us), we learn increasingly and over time to recognize Jesus and to know the joy and sustenance of his presence. And we can offer it to others.

Let us pray.
Lord Jesus, stay with us, for evening is at hand and the day is past; be our companion in the way, kindle our hearts, and awaken hope, that we may know you as you are revealed in Scripture and the breaking of bread. Grant this for the sake of your love. Amen. Alleluia.

Victoria Geer McGrath
All Saints’ Church, Millington, NJ
Third Sunday of Easter
April 30, 2017

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. John 20:1

“Early on the first day of the week…”; those of us who are early risers – whether daily, or weekly, or only every-so-often, know that the transition from dark to dawn can be breath-taking. The world looks new and fresh; the day stretches infinitely in front of us; and each tree, leaf, flower, bird, blade of grass seems so full of life. And on this particular morning, I’m sure Mary, the one who came from the town of Magdala, who had stood at the foot of the Cross with the other women, was glad for whatever sense of life and hope she could get from her surroundings as she went to the tomb of her friend and rabbi; a tomb that was located in a garden, not far from the place of crucifixion. Mary showed up, the way we often do, when someone we love has died – to grieve, to bring the burial spices, to be a witness to a life.

She came on the dawn of the new day, the first day of the week, what in Judaism is understood to be the day of new creation. “Early on the first day of the week…” In telling the story this way John, the Gospel writer, wants us to hear the echoes of the opening of Genesis, the story of the first creation: “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God, the Spirit of God, the breath of God, swept over the face of the waters.” Genesis goes on in the second account of Creation to describe a garden, a beautiful ordered world into which God places humankind as stewards and caretakers. We know from looking around us at this time of year, when the world is coming into bloom, how strong that sense of living in God’s garden can be, if we have eyes to see, if we pay attention.

So John wants us to pay attention, to hear clearly, what Mary is seeing and experiencing – the New Life, the New Creation that God had promised throughout the ages and the pages of Scripture has come to fruition. Jesus has been raised from the dead – in the midst of a garden, a new beginning with an echo of the Garden of Eden, undoing the ancient sin of that first garden, the disobedience and separation from God that seems to lurk in our genes.

And yet, Mary did not recognize Jesus at first; through her tears, she thought he might be the gardener of that place. It was when he spoke her name that she recognized him: Rabbi; Teacher; Messiah. It was Jesus, gone through the grave and gate of death and come out the other side, himself, yet different; a new sort of physicality that is much more full of Life (with a capital L) than his previous body, a harbinger of the New Creation that God has in store for us all. The image of a renewed humanity coming New Life in a garden is God’s very clear statement of God’s promises coming to fruition at last. A renewed human family – of which Jesus is the first-born; a renewed Creation, of which the garden is a symbol and sign. Here at All Saints’ we are reminded of this every time we come to worship, for there on the wall above our altar is the Resurrection window, the Risen Christ with the marks of the nails in his hands, and two of the women who had come to the tomb gazing with love, adoration, and awe. And all of this is placed in a garden with a landscape of hills and trees in the distance – the world for which Jesus died and rose to New Life.

So why does all this matter? What difference does it make to us that a first-century Jewish rabbi who grew up in a carpenter’s family in Galilee should be arrested, tortured, executed in a collusion between the religious authorities and the military governor, all the while having been abandoned by most of his friends and followers? And what difference does it make to us that God then raised him to life three days later? Not a resuscitation, to die again later on, but a resurrection to New Life?

It matters because this is the way God faithfully kept his promise to renew and redeem his Creation, including us his people. It matters because after centuries of suffering, sin, death, and despair in the world, God came into human life in the person of Jesus, and took upon himself the very worst the powers-that-be (both human and spiritual) could dish out. Jesus took all that upon himself on the Cross – and that includes the very worst that we have ever done, or had done to us. All our brokenness, fear, shame, doubt, anger, anxiety, hubris, faithlessness, discord, abandonment, was put to death on the Cross along with Jesus – borne in his heart, and upon his shoulders. He became us, and we all – in a sense – became him. By his taking all that on he broke the back and ultimate power of Death and all its minions.

Jesus’ Resurrection opened for us a new path to life for us and for the whole world; a life in which all humanity is in the process of being restored to right relationship with God. with each other, and with all Creation. This was always the plan, always the purpose and the promise at some point in God’s future. But in the Resurrection, God’s future has come to meet us, and we see clearly what we are meant to be: brothers and sisters with Jesus, children of God our Father, care-takers and stewards of this life and beautiful creation God has given us. That future is far from complete, not yet fully-arrived. But as we put our faith and trust in Jesus, as we are faithful to God who is faithful to us, as we live in Jesus’ way and center our hearts and minds and actions on him, we will know and grow God’ life in us. It’s like nurturing and watering a seedling that breaks from the earth in joy and hope, but still needs careful cultivation if it is to grow to its full height and strength and bear fruit.

The path of New Life that the Resurrection opened for us is very much about the way we live here and now. It is also about resting with God after our death - the stuff of our existence being taken up into God, like the monarch caterpillar in its chrysalis dissolving so that only its DNA is left, before it finally emerges as a butterfly. After our death, we rest in God until such time as God’s Kingdom comes in completeness to all Creation. And then we, too, will be raised to New Life, to a Spirit-infused body, in a Spirit-infused world. What this all means is that nothing that has been made is ever lost to God, unless we turn our backs on God’s faithfulness.

This is, indeed, the Eighth Day, the Day of New Creation, New Life in which the Risen Christ has opened the way for all who will follow. This is the Day of life, and joy, and hope, and glory, and peace…and we go on from here. Thanks be to God! Amen. Alleluia!
 
Victoria Geer McGrath
All Saints’ Church, Millington, NJ
The Sunday of the Resurrection: Easter Day
April 16, 2017

Pilate therefore said to him, "Do you refuse to speak to me? Do you not know that I have power to release you, and power to crucify you?" Jesus answered him, "You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above; therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin." John 19:10-11

From all outward appearances, Good Friday is a failure. Jesus’ mission, rolled out over three years, and coming to a crescendo at his entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday has come to a screeching halt. One of his own betrayed him. His inner circle scatters. Even his closest friend Peter sleeps through Jesus’ night of agonizing prayer in the garden, only to flat-out deny knowing him at the very moment that his leader, his rabbi, the one he called “Lord” is on trial for his life. The religious establishment presents Jesus on trumped-up charges to the military governor, who then has an awkward and seemingly-futile exchange with him on the nature of truth. When that doesn’t produce results, Jesus is beaten, and the guards take the opportunity of his weakness and pain to mock and humiliate him – the crown hastily twisted together from the branches of a near-by thorn bush, a purple robe that might have been left behind by a merchant on a previous “visit” to the guard house. Ultimately, the governor puts the question to the people – Jesus’ own: life or death? Thumbs up, or thumbs down – according to the Roman blood sport of gladiators. And the people choose thumbs down. So Jesus is put to death by state-sanctioned torture, the brutality reserved for those who sought to undermine the power and authority of the Empire in ways large and small. Those few of his followers who attend the execution beg for his body, so that he can be buried according to custom, and not left to be tossed into a common grave, or even the city garbage dump. A large stone is rolled across the entrance to the tomb, and that is that. Done. Finished. No hope. Death triumphant. Failure.

But that’s looking at the account of Good Friday from the outside. When we focus on Jesus himself, and the conversation he has with Pilate, in particular, we see something different.

Pilate: Your own nation and the chief priests have handed you over to me. What have you done?
Jesus: My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over … But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.
Pilate: So you are a king?
Jesus: You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.
Pilate: What is truth?
When Pilate presents Jesus to the crowd and they call for his crucifixion, the conversation continues.
Pilate: Where are you from?
Jesus: silence
Pilate: Do you refuse to speak to me? Do you not know that I have power to release you, and power to crucify you?
Jesus: You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above; therefore the one who handed me over to you is guilty of a greater sin.

Pilate is attempting to exercise his authority; he claims the full power and backing of the Roman Empire, which is his right and responsibility as the Emperor’s agent. But Jesus undercuts all of that. True authority belongs to God. He is saying to Pilate: “You have not much power. There are forces at work here that are way above your pay grade.” Woah! Roman rule was intended to strike fear and awe into its subjects, yet Jesus is not afraid. That disturbs Pilate greatly; he really just wants to walk away.

What are the powers and influences playing out here; larger, unseen forces that run continually in the background, but come into sharp focus as the kaleidoscope of this trial unfolds? Some of them are brutality, violence, control for its own sake, lust for power, the idolatry of the imperial system, cruelty, maintenance of position, sin, death. Of course, these powers were not only operative during Roman times; they are universal, part and parcel of human life on this side of the Garden of Eden, what it means to live in a fallen world. And we today are not immune from any of these powers.

We need to be clear that however strong these powers may be, Jesus’ Passion – his arrest, trial, suffering, and death – is not a struggle between Good and Evil, although both goodness and evil abound here. This is not a contest between equal and opposite forces. The powers that throw themselves against Jesus with screaming force are the dark and twisted remains of God’s good creation that have turned inward on themselves, becoming idols – offering to those who seek after them and embrace them a false promise of glory and power.

In JRR Tolkein’s epic spiritual fantasy novel “The Lord of the Rings” one of the characters, a Hobbit named Sméagol, comes into possession of the One Ring of Power, drawn to its promise of utmost power over others. Sméagol call the Ring “My Precious” and willingly gives it his soul. Over time, this Hobbit is deformed and enslaved in both body and mind by his idolatry of power, becoming the creature known as Gollum. While this is a graphic and fantastic depiction of the results of idolatry, Tolkein, a faithful Christian, knew what he was about. Those who make a god of anything less than the true Creator and Lord of the Universe will fall into idolatry and reap its rewards – at some level.

So in Jesus’ conversation with Pilate the powers are unmasked. And in Pilate’s exchange with the crowds, their betrayal of the sovereignty of God is stunning: “Take him away! Crucify him! We have no king but Caesar!” Ae these not the very same people who came to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover, the festival of freedom and new life given by the Lord God? Are these not the very same people who acclaimed Jesus with shouts of “Hosanna”? How quickly they deny their whole history and identity.

But if we try to distance ourselves and say that we would never deny Christ, that we would never engage in idolatry, we are sadly mistaken. Just by the fact of our humanity we are drawn to the promise of power and its misuse. Sin seeps into our hearts and minds, and we find ourselves thinking, and saying, and doing things that fly in the face of our best intentions, of our loyalty and fidelity to God.

And in the midst of it all, Jesus silently embodies and reflects God’s love – the greatest power of all – into the world; to Pilate, to the crowds, to the soldiers and the mocking passersby, to the disciples, and to us – because we all have a place in this story.

God’s love is the greatest power of all, poured out in the Crucifixion. What appeared to be a failure will show itself to be, on Easter morning, a triumph, a victory, a setting to rights the ways of the world. God’s strength and power and ultimate authority will re-order the creation around the New Life that is given in the Resurrection. So for now we stand in the shadow of the Cross, but we know that Sunday’s coming, and death will be defeated, and the Risen Christ will share generously his New Life with all who offer their trust, praise, loyalty, and love.

Let us pray.
 O God, Author of the world’s joy, Bearer of the world’s pain; At the heart of all our trouble and sorrow let unconquerable gladness dwell; through our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. ~ “For Christian Gladness” from A Prayer Book for Soldiers and Sailors, 1941

Victoria Geer McGrath
All Saints’ Church, Millington, NJ
Good Friday
April 14, 2017
 

Jesus said: So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one anothers' feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. John 13:14-15

Here we are, at the beginning of the Triduum – a Latin word for the three-day period of the most central and cataclysmic events of the life of Jesus, and of us, his followers. It is often remarked that Christian faith in general, and certainly what we do on these days of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter is counter-cultural, going against the grain of society. While that has always been true at some level, our culture’s slide into narcissism has become more and more obvious. The culture of “me” and everything revolving around “me” shows up in ways large and small. And it’s hard to fight being pulled into that orbit, where the center of gravity is “self.”

One example of this is the language that is sometimes used when people talk about their experience of volunteering for some cause or other. When asked why they do what they do, a volunteer will often give this sort of answer: “I love being involved with this project because it gives me such a good feeling. What the people I am helping receive is great, but what I get back is so much greater.” That sounds innocent enough, and it may well be true, but it makes the focus all about the volunteer, all about me and my good feeling. It is important and vital to be generous and self-giving, especially for Christians, but the motivation for helping others should be their genuine need. And the effect of our service and tangible efforts should be that we are changed in the process…and change is often hard, and does not feel particularly good.

When we enter into someone else’s concern, need, situation, life, we enter as servants, we are there to offer ourselves – body and soul – but it’s not about us. And yet this is where we learn the paradox the Jesus has been teaching us for two thousand years: ‘If any of you want to come the way I’m going, you must say “no” to your own selves, pick up your cross, and follow me. Yes: if you want to save your life, you’ll lose it; but if you lose your life because of me and the Message [of the Gospel] you’ll save it.’ (Mark 8:34-35) By being willing to put aside our own comfort, our preferences, our desires in the service of listening deeply to the truth of another person’s life and needs, we will find out who we really are, the stuff we are made of, our deep-down value – a process of listening and learning humility before God and others that will lead to our salvation.

The clearest example of this I know is when I was leading youth mission trips to Honduras to do small building projects at two different children’s homes: building cinder block walls or sidewalks, painting. The expectation was that what we were going to do was good and helpful – and it was, on some level. But really, it would have been much more effective to take the money we spent on travel, room and board for twenty-five teen-agers and their adult advisors and wire it to Honduras where there are skilled workmen who would have done the work well – and have gotten paid, to boot. It was a great temptation for the kids to think that they were going to “save the world” and that no one else could do it. What they learned was that work is hard, and hot, and the different water, diet, and hot sun sometimes made them sick, and that their skills in building were often woefully lacking. But as they looked and listened and asked questions about a place so different from their own, as they got to know some of the children and the orphanage staff and observed that the very survival of these children depended on their ability to work together, to put someone else first, the teenagers began to see that the real “work” of their trip was to offer their love and attention to others so different from themselves. And in the process, they learned that their own value was not in grades, or sports, or social status, or having the right clothes or hanging with the right crowd, but in their capacity to give and receive love – just for who they were. Humility, freedom, and salvation, indeed.

At the Last Supper Jesus gave us a New Commandment: that we should love one another. That’s not just a vague feeling, but an intention to action and deep caring. And Jesus showed us how to do it, he gave us a real-life example to follow in taking on the role of a servant when he wrapped himself in a towel before dinner and washed the dusty, dirty feet of his followers. It was not an act of hygiene; it was a measure of hospitality and service.

The Church is in many ways a school for Christian living in the context of a worshiping community. Because we gather to worship and serve our Lord Jesus, we must also learn to serve one another. We practice loving service; we practice loving service – which means we don’t always get it right, it doesn’t always feel good, it’s not about us and what we like or want, but about who the Holy Spirit is forming us to be if we are to follow Jesus and serve God’s world. Our worship, our community life are all a training ground, a way to get in shape to that we may be of best use to God and those with whom we share this world God has made. In in the process of loving, listening, serving, often going against the grain of our culture and our own inclinations, we will find ourselves in the heart of God, which is our salvation.

Let us pray.“Jesu, Jesu, fill us with your love,
show us how to serve
the neighbors we have from you.

Kneel at the feet of our friends,
silently washing their feet;
this is the way we should live with you.” Amen

Victoria Geer McGrath
All Saints’ Church, Millington, NJMaundy ThursdayApril 13, 2017