May 28, 2017 - Easter 7 - Dayenu

Acts 1:6-14; 1 Peter 4:12-14, 5:6-11; John 17:1-11

“Is it time yet?” “Is it now??” “How many more sleeps?” “How much longer?!?”

I am guessing you could all name a situation in which you’ve heard children wondering (I was going to say whining) about when something is going to happen. 

Now, to be fair, children often ask out loud what adults are thinking in their heads. We can probably all remember times when we have had to sit for what seems like an unbearably long time in one place, waiting for something to happen: Waiting for the gridlock in front of us to clear up, waiting on the tarmac for the crew to resolve mechanical issues so the plane can take off, waiting for a particularly long sermon to wrap up. Then there are the more intense periods of waiting, like waiting for the specialist to call back about test results, waiting for a loved one’s suffering to be over, waiting for our own feelings of grief and loss over something to pass. These are harder, because we don’t know when they’ll be over. We don’t even know when to expect these things to be resolved. We’re waiting, desperately, for the time to come, but we don’t know when that time is, or even what it will look like when it does arrive.

This was the situation the first Christians found themselves in. After Jesus had died, and been resurrected, the first Christians found themselves still waiting. They had been waiting for things to change, even though they didn’t quite know into what, and now they were still unsure. In our reading from Acts, they ask Jesus, “Is this the time?” And in our second reading, from 1 Peter, the recipients of that letter also seem to be wondering: Is this it? Is this the kingdom of God? When will our suffering be over? How much longer? I imagine that the families of the Coptic Christians who were killed on Friday are asking the same questions.

Unfortunately, the answers are not particularly helpful. In response to the disciples’ questions in Acts, Jesus says, “It is not for you to know the times.” The writer of 1 Peter responds with, “In due time.” Our Scriptures are frustratingly vague about when all of these things that God has promised will happen. There are references to the time “to come,” and “in that day,” and “in the end times,” but this is like responding to a child who is wondering, “When will it happen?” with the answer, “Soon. It’ll happen soon.” How is that supposed to help?

In our Gospel reading, Jesus complicates the situation even further when he says, “The hour has come.” Now, he’s talking about his arrest in the Garden of Gethsemane and his crucifixion. But he’s also talking about “the hour.” The time when God will restore everything, when we will finally be “there,” when we will not have to wait any longer for the world’s suffering to be over. Jesus is saying that that time “has come.” So why do things still look the same? 

The answers continue to be complicated. When the disciples ask him after his resurrection if the time is here now, he says, “It will come. You will receive power.” And in 1 Peter, the writer says, God “will restore, support, strengthen, and establish you.” Time is all mixed up. It’s time, it’s not time, it will be time, the time has already come. How are we to understand all of this? More to the point, when we are suffering, because of a deep loss that has happened or a loss that we are expecting to happen, how are we to wait through all of this? We do not doubt that God will fulfill God’s promises, and wipe away every tear from every face, as it says in both Isaiah and the Book of Revelation, but how are we to wait? How are we to understand that the time has already come when we are still suffering? How do we get through this?

Well, it seems to me that there are two different ways to do this. The first comes from our second reading, which says, very clearly, “Cast all your anxiety on God, because God cares for you.” Be steadfast, and resist despair. Get through the waiting by just waiting. God will make all things new. God will bring you through this period of suffering, and God will restore you.

Now, if that works for you, if that alone is enough to sustain you through all your suffering, then you are indeed blessed, and I envy you. Some people have indeed been blessed by the Holy Spirit so that they are able to endure all kinds of suffering, for truly extended periods of time, simply by waiting in hope. I am not one of those people, and I suspect I’m not alone.

So for those who are not able to just wait, God offers another way. It still involves waiting, but there’s more. This second way of waiting has a long tradition in the church, and in the Jewish tradition that precedes us. This second way of waiting is how Jesus waited for his suffering to be over, how Paul and the first disciples waited for their suffering to come to an end. Its effectiveness comes from remembering all of the times in the past when we had to endure suffering, and when God restored us then. It is looking at our history, and identifying those times when God blessed us and brought an end to the waiting of that moment.

In the Jewish celebration of Passover, which Jesus and Paul both celebrated, there is a point, after the story of the deliverance from Egypt has been told, when something called the Dayenu is recited. Dayenu means, “it would have been enough.” And the Passover Dayenu says, among other things, “If God had split the sea for us, and not led us through it on dry land, Dayenu.” It would have been enough. “If God had satisfied our needs in the desert for forty years, and not fed us the manna, Dayenu.” It would have been enough. “If God had fed us the manna, and not given us the Sabbath, Dayenu.” It would have been enough. “If God had given us the Sabbath, and not brought us to Mount Sinai, Dayenu. If God had brought us to Mount Sinai, and not given us the Torah, Dayenu. If God had given us the Torah, and not brought us into Israel, Dayenu.” Dayenu, dayenu, dayenu. It would have enough. In their exodus, even if God had done only that very first thing, it would have been enough. This kind of waiting encourages us to look at what God has already given us, so that even as we mourn what we have lost, we are grateful for what we have been given. 

As St. John comes to a close, many of us wonder how we will endure the suffering that comes with the loss of this congregation. God promises us that our feelings of grief will subside, and that we will one day be restored to one another, but we don’t know when. It is hard to imagine that that time will come. Some of us are able to cast all our anxieties on God and just wait. But for those of us who are not, I offer this Dayenu for St. John, this remembrance of what God has already given:

Had God sent Christ to redeem us, and not given us baptism, Dayenu. It would have been enough.

Had God given us baptism, and not given us Holy Communion to strengthen us, Dayenu.

Had God given us Holy Communion, and not given us the church of every time and every place, Dayenu.

Had God given us the church of every time and every place, and not founded this congregation, Dayenu.

Had God founded this congregation, and not built this building for us, Dayenu.

Had God built this building for us, and not sent singers and musicians to help us worship, Dayenu.

Had God sent singers and musicians to help us worship, and not given us children to nurture in Sunday School, Dayenu.

Had God given us children to nourish in Sunday School, and not enabled us to support organizations like CLWR and the Women’s Shelter, Dayenu.

Had God enabled us to support organizations like CLWR and the Women’s Shelter, and not sent us friends to cherish for so many years, Dayenu.

Had God sent us friends to cherish for so many years, and not brought us to this day, Dayenu. 

The last time my kids were waiting for a big event, they kept asking, “Is it time yet?” And, to their intense frustration, my husband and I just kept answering, “Yup.” In a way, this is how God answers our questions of “Is it time yet?” Yes, it is time. We do not wait for God to restore the things we have lost or to ease our suffering. God has done so and is doing so even now. God has given us Christ, and the Sacraments, and the church, and community. Had God given the people of St. John only one of these things, we would indeed have been given more than enough. Praise and thanksgiving and thanks to our God who has given us all these things and even more, from whom even these last few services together are an overabundance of blessings and gifts from God. It would have been enough, it is enough, it will be enough. Thanks be to God. Amen.

May 14, 2017 - Easter 5 - Praying that God is Seen in Us

John 14:1-14

If you are a parent, no doubt you’ve had that moment when you say something to your children, or react to them in some way, and all of a sudden it’s not you, but your mother who’s somehow speaking through you. In some moment of stress, you channel your parents and at the same time, watch yourself ,thinking, “Oh my goodness, I’ve become my mother!”

On the flip side, if you’re a parent, or a close uncle or aunt, or a regular caregiver of any kind, you may have also noticed the reverse: that there are moments when the children under your care all of a sudden repeat back to you the words that you yourself have said to them. And that is particularly disorienting. Children become mirrors of us. Their words and actions reflect our behaviour to them, and, this can be good or bad. Of course, most of the time, we only notice when they reflect our bad behaviours––impatience or annoyance, but there are the good things, too. Whatever you value, truly value, I mean, is what your children will often value as well, even if they don’t quite realize it.

It really comes down to that phrase we hear, and perhaps say, so often: Do as I say, not as I do. We repeat this phrase so often because, in fact, the reality is the opposite. Children don’t do what their parents say, they do what their parents do.

And this is where our Gospel reading comes in. Because this is essentially what Jesus is saying. He does what his Father does, his deeds reflect God. He says to Philip, “Whoever has seen me has seen the Father,” and says that all of the words he speaks and all of the things he does are not his own doing, but “the Father who dwells in” him. This is why Christians confess that when we see Jesus, we see God. For the same reason that we might look at someone’s child and say, “Oh, I see your mother in you.” Only with Jesus, this reflection, or this embodiment, is so much more intense that we say, in the end, that Jesus is God.

And so, from Jesus, we see that God is compassionate, merciful, forgiving, and wants to see us live in wholeness. Through Jesus, we see that God values justice for the poor, love for one’s enemies, and mending relationships. Through Jesus, we see that God searches out and shines in every darkness, and is willing to die for us. And, in this Easter season, through Jesus we see that God values life over death, and commits everything to that.

But Jesus is not the only one of God’s children. We are, too. And so Jesus’ words apply to us, as well. We also should think of ourselves that whoever sees us has seen God, and that the words we say and the deeds we do are not our own doing, but God who dwells in us. And indeed, Jesus says this, when he says, “the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these.” Jesus is saying that we, too, reflect and embody God in our actions. When people see us, they see God.

Which is, frankly, intimidating. But true. When we are public about being Christian, whether that means our neighbours know, or we have some kind of cross bumper sticker, then every action and every word that we do or say is seen as a reflection of God. When we are kind, that is how people think God must be. When we are forgiving, or generous, or gracious, the world sees this as a reflection of the God we worship. Which is as it should be-––children who are gracious and kind reflect the graciousness and kindness of their parents. But when we are cruel, or bossy, or pushy, or intolerant, or hypocritical, or entitled, that is also how people think God must be. It’s not necessarily fair, but that’s the way it is. Children who are bullies or unfair reflect the cruelty of their parents. And when it comes to Christians reflecting God, when we speak words of hate, when we are silent in the face of injustice, when we deny that we have done any wrong, the world sees us, and they think that the God we worship is hateful, does not care about the poor, and is cruel, fickle, and power-hungry. They see our actions, and they think they are seeing God. And we see the results of this, which is people turning away from God. It’s not because they are horrible people, but because, throughout history and even now, we have been horrible people, and those who see us think that means our God must be horrible, too. We may not like to hear it, but this is the truth. Our works and our actions are taken to be reflections of God––good and bad.

So at this point, there are two ways we can go with this. The first is to become despondent and despair because we are bound by the limitations of our human nature and we can’t fully reflect the goodness of God, and as a result, people will never get the truest picture of God. We can accept this, and we can give up.

But the other way, which Luther himself emphasized, is to note that before Jesus tells us that we, too, are reflections of God, he reminds us that he will bring us to God. In other words, Jesus reassures us that our reflections of God, our attempts to do as God does, are not entirely up to us. God is involved. God comes to dwell in us, moving us to greater good. The Holy Spirit comes to be with us, inspiring us every day to be truer reflections of God. And every time we pray in Jesus’ name, as he says, which is to say, any time we pray that our lives would reflect Jesus, and thus God, it is done. If there is one prayer that I am sure thatGod answers, it is the prayer that we become more like Jesus, and that we do as he would do.

And this is our comfort, both as Christians and as parents: that the Spirit of God working in us is more powerful than we, which means that God’s goodness and mercy and love shines brighter our own human failings. Do not let your hearts be troubled: God’s light shines even in the darkness we create, as a church and in our families, and God brings new life to the deaths that we inadvertently cause.

Jesus acted so that we might see God, and we act so that others might see Jesus. And so we ask, in Jesus’ name, that our deeds be such that one day people might look at us and say, “Oh, I see your God in you.” And Jesus will do it. Thanks be to God. Amen.