​READING: John 14:8-17 
 
8Philip said to [Jesus,] “Lord, show us the Father, and we will be satisfied.” 9Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you all this time, Philip, and you still do not know me? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? 10Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I say to you I do not speak on my own; but the Father who dwells in me does his works. 11Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves. 12Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. 13I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. 14If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it. 
  15“If you love me, you will keep my commandments. 16And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. 17This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.” 
 
A few years ago, I had the opportunity to spend time in Tanzania, visiting the Lutheran church based in Arusha right at the tip of Lake Victoria. In Tanzania, as in many countries in Africa, children growing up in villages first learn the language of their tribe, the language spoken by the people they live with every day. If their parents came from different villages, they may learn two languages from the time they learn to speak.
 
Once they start school, they begin to learn Swahili, if they haven’t already learned it at home. And they not only learn Swahili, they learn IN Swahili. Swahili is the language that bridges all villages in Tanzania, the language that all Tanzanians learn to speak if they are going to communicate with people beyond their village. By the time a child is 10 or so, they already know at least two languages.
 
For those fortunate enough to have the opportunity to go on to high school, English becomes the language of instruction. Many students board at school, because their villages are simply too far to travel every day, and from the time they wake up to the time they go to sleep, students are encouraged and rewarded for speaking English at all times, so they become as proficient as possible. English is the language that bridges Tanzania to other African countries, and the world at large. By the time they are 18, Tanzanians who have gone to high school and have a capacity for languages are trilingual.
 
As we travelled, we visited a music conservatory, a university of sorts that focused on music. Our guide and translator translated some of the songs, but not all, and after the concert, she explained why. Some of the songs were in Swahili, which of course she knew well. One of the songs was in a tribal language she had grown up with. And the rest were in languages she didn’t know, and couldn’t translate. She explained that many of the people, as they add language to language as they grow older, become immersed in Swahili and English, and often will lose some of their tribal language along the way. And as they lose the nuances of their tribal language, they also lose the music that is unique to their language, their culture. You lose your language, and you lose your culture.
 
In today’s reading from Acts, we enter a scene that, like the big cities of Tanzania, includes people from many different places, speaking many different languages. They may have had language in common, as the Tanzanian people do, but finding someone in Jerusalem who speaks YOUR language—the language you grew up with, the language of YOUR people—was probably very rare. You lose your language, you lose your culture.
 
And then, the Holy Spirit comes in. The apostles had been told—Jesus had said the Spirit would come to them and teach them all they needed to know—but I would guess that what happened was not at all how they might have pictured it. The wind blows. The flames appear. They are all touched by the Holy Spirit’s inspiration. And, suddenly, all of those people from far off lands heard something they may not have heard for a long time: the apostles came out of the room, began to preach, and everyone heard them speaking THEIR LANGUAGE. The language of their lullabies. The language of their parents. The language of their prayers. The language of their hearts.
 
When we went to worship in Arusha, it was in Swahili, and although we didn’t know it, the service was familiar enough that, for the most part, we had a pretty good idea of what was happening. There was much, though, that we didn’t understand. We knew they were reading from the Bible, but what passage? Prayers were being offered, but what for? What was the pastor saying, as he preached? Fortunately for us, our two guides were there, like modern day apostles, to bridge the gap. One of them wrote notes on scraps of paper, summarizing what was happening—she would write a sentence, and pass it down our pew. Write another sentence, and pass it down. Another sentence, pass it down. Over and over, for the entire service. Our other guide was not so subtle—for those close enough to hear her, she just translated out loud what was being said. Everyone, they thought, should hear what was happening in their own language.
 
The story of Pentecost shows us that God agrees! The people gathered to hear the word of God didn’t magically learn a new language, or hear the apostles speaking just any language. They heard the promise of God in their language, the language of their heart. And the Spirit empowered the apostles to speak in languages they didn’t even know, so that could happen. Once again, the word of God meets us right where we are, speaking to us in the language of our hearts. And we are sent to meet others where they are, empowered to share the boundless love of God, in the language of their hearts.
 
The love of God is not limited to any particular language, or gender, or age, or social status, or culture, or place, or time. God’s Spirit flows through and in all of us, and as we hear in Acts today, it can sometimes look so different from what we expect that we don’t believe it at first glance. The Spirit blows into every corner, comforting and guiding and healing and inspiring each of us, as individuals, and all of us, as a community. Open the doors and windows, because here she

READING: John 14:23-29                            
 
23Jesus answered [Judas (not Iscariot),] “Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. 24Whoever does not love me does not keep my words; and the word that you hear is not mine, but is from the Father who sent me.
  25“I have said these things to you while I am still with you. 26But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you. 27Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid. 28You heard me say to you, ‘I am going away, and I am coming to you.’ If you loved me, you would rejoice that I am going to the Father, because the Father is greater than I. 29And now I have told you this before it occurs, so that when it does occur, you may believe.”
 
It’s funny how the Spirit works sometimes! This week, as I was thinking about our readings for today, and reflecting on Memorial Day and honoring our vets this morning, I having trouble putting it all together, so I asked some text study friends if they had any thoughts. And one of the participants immediately shared a story about his dad. His father served in the navy, in active combat, and at one point his ship was destroyed. He and the survivors were left to swim two miles to land. As he swam across the ocean to safety, a hymn kept running through his mind: “When you pass through raging waters in the sea you shall not drown, when you walk amid the burning flames, you shall not be harmed, when you stand before the powers of hell, and death is at your side, know that I am with you, through it all!”
 
My friend said that these words gave his father a sense of peace that was completely unrelated to the situation he was in. All logic, all evidence he had as he slowly made his way through turbulent waters to safety, indicated that there was little or no peace to be found. The promise of God reflected in this hymn gave him a peace that came not from calm and safe surroundings or certain outcomes, but from the promises of God to be present in the storm.
 
Many of you may relate to this experience, one way or another. “Peace I leave with you,” Jesus said. “I do not give to you as the world gives.” The peace Jesus promises defies rational explanations, and shows up at seemingly the most unlikely times.
 
The peace of God can show up on the battlefield, or in a military aircraft, in camp as you are eating rations and waiting to find out your next orders, or as you make necessary and difficult decisions that impact the lives and families of those under your command.
 
God’s peace can show up while you are learning about a new diagnosis, or waiting for test results to come through.
 
The peace Jesus promises can show up at the graveside of a loved one, or in the treatment center after you or a family member has hit bottom in a struggle with addiction or mental illness.
 
The peace of God may come to rest on the parent fleeing for their life to a foreign land in the desperate hope that their children may survive.
 
You may experience God’s peace in the midst of extended unemployment, or a painful and wounding divorce.
 
God’s peace may come as you grapple with a pregnancy that ends in miscarriage, or comes with medical complications that require hard and even tragic decisions, or as you struggle with infertility and all of the grief and shame that can bring.
  
This promise of God can be incredibly challenging to accept at times. Because although the promise Jesus makes is absolutely steadfast, it is helpful to remember that it probably didn’t offer much comfort in the moment Jesus was talking with his disciples, who just simply wanted Jesus to step up and fix everything, RIGHT NOW. (I’m sure no one here can relate to that, right??) I have had experiences in my own life where, to be perfectly honest, I felt like saying, OK, God, you can just keep your peace-that-comes-in-the-storm, I just want this done already, give me the solution, the direction, an end to this chaos.
 
And I think Jesus understands this, because he told his disciples that he was saying all of this before it happened, so that they would know it when it happened. I don’t know about you, but I feel sometimes that my hindsight is 20/20, when my understanding of what is happening today can be near blind. So often, it is only in looking back that I can see how God has carried and guided me when things were at their worst. And having had experiences of seeing God at work in hindsight, has made it more possible, and a LITTLE easier, to see God at work in the messiness, confusion, and even pain of the present.
 
Most important, perhaps, is to note that Jesus is not giving this message to an individual, but to a community. And I have learned that when I am struggling the most to trust God, and keep swimming in turbulent waters, God’s peace will often reveal itself in the words and actions and love and support of my community.
 
We at Bethel continue on this journey together from where we are into our future, not knowing yet what it will look like, and now more than ever, we need one another. None of us can move forward on our own. We can remind each other of the promise Jesus gave us, and embody that promise as we offer grace, support, trust, energy and love to our fellow travelers.
 
We can take courage from the story of my friend’s father, the naval officer who found peace while literally navigating turbulent water. On this Memorial Day weekend, we are thankful for all of the military veterans and their families who have given so much, and have modelled for us what it means to face the unknown, and place their trust in something greater than themselves, for the cause of justice and peace. We witness and know that however we may be experiencing raging waters, or burning flames, or the fires of hell, or even death, in our own lives, God is with us even though we can’t see him. And God’s peace will be with, us, defying all the world’s logic. Thanks be to God!

​READING: John 13:31-35                                                
 
31When he had gone out, Jesus said, “Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. 32If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. 33Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come.’ 34I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. 35By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
 
I feel like I talk a lot about how much God loves each one of us. How the love God has for us is transformational, as we realize that no matter what we might say, or do, or think, we are worthy of the love of the one who created us. In John today, as part of Jesus’ last words to his disciples before he is arrested, Jesus talks again about love. We are to love one another, Jesus tells us, as God has loved us. But today’s texts seem to take this further, adding a surprising and challenging twist to what we know about God’s love.
 
In today’s passage from Acts, Peter is going about his business, going about God’s business, really, sharing the good news with those to whom he is sent. And Peter has been an advocate for allowing Gentiles to enter the church, become a part of the community of Jesus’ followers that is growing fast, and crossing the typical lines and borders they are used to observing.
 
Not everyone agreed with him. There were those among Peter’s fellow apostles who felt that if Gentiles were to be baptized, and admitted into the fellowship, they would need to be circumcised, follow Jewish dietary law, observe Jewish religious traditions—to in effect become Jewish. Allowing a non-Jewish person to be fully a part of this small community of Jewish people who were following Jesus just didn’t make sense to them. The only way to include them would be if “they” became part of “us” in a concrete way. Invite “them” to come in, to be a part of “us.”
 
 
Peter called the early church, and calls us today, to re-examine our ideas of what it means to be a follower of Jesus. But first, before he could do that, Peter had some things he had to wrestle with for himself. Peter’s vision is, of course, significant in his awakening to God’s inclusive love. We often talk about this vision as being the moment when Peter realizes Jewish dietary law doesn’t matter anymore, but is about so much more than food. And we know from so many other stories in Acts and Paul’s letters that God did not intend to erase or eliminate Jewish law. This is about Peter recognizing, bit by bit as he processes what he has seen and then spends time with Cornelius, that God’s love includes people that are very different from him. God’s love includes people seen as sinners. God’s love includes people who he had been taught to see as outsiders.
 
With the Spirit’s guidance and wisdom through the vision, Peter can justify going to Cornelius’ house when he is summoned, spending time with them, talking with them and teaching about the good news of God’s love revealed in Jesus. Even though Cornelius and his family are Gentiles. Even though Cornelius himself is a soldier, and at that time soldiers were often feared and hated for the ways they participated in oppressing the people. And while he was there, following the lead of the vision he had received from God, something miraculous happened. The Spirit of God came upon Cornelius and his household, just the same way it had come upon the rest of the apostles and followers of Jesus since that first Pentecost.
 
Peter had a lot of explaining to do, when he returned to Jerusalem. Why had he eaten with Cornelius and his family, when their way of eating was seen as unclean? Why had he baptized them, when they were not circumcised, and did not follow Jewish tradition? What happened in Caesarea was confusing, and perhaps even offensive. Because here’s the thing—rather than bringing Cornelius and his household into the neatly drawn circle of Jewish life, Cornelius’ conversion and baptism pushed the circle out, broke its smooth, predictable line, and made the church bigger. And that changed everything.
 
We are no longer talking about bringing “them” in to be part of “us.” Because this story and experience shared, and the evidence of the extravagant abundance of the Spirit poured out, shows us that in God’s world, there is no “them” and “us.” We are all God’s children, in all of the beauty and messiness and joy and challenge of our infinite diversity.
 
God’s children speak all languages. God’s children eat meat, and abstain from meat. God’s children wear clothing from all nations and cultures and tribes. God’s children walk, and drive, and fly, and travel by horse and camel and canoe. God’s children study for degrees in ivy league universities, gain valuable trades and skills at community colleges, and learn farming or fishing or hunting or building at their parents’ side. God’s people travel to all corners of the world, and spend their lives living and loving and working and praying in the community in which they were born.
 
Perhaps the greatest miracle of the experience Peter had, and shared with his friends when he got back to Jerusalem, is that God didn’t wait to work in Cornelius’ life until Peter arrived to bring the good news. Cornelius, we are told, was already walking with God, serving others, loving his neighbors, listening for God’s guidance in his life. He was already listening, which is how he knew to invite Peter to come. Perhaps Peter’s visit to Cornelius, as much as it may have brought inspiration and encouragement to Cornelius’ household, was more transformational for Peter, and for us who hear the story today! As Peter says to those who question him, “If then God gave them the same gift that he gave us when we believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I that I could hinder God?”
 
And so, Peter ate with them. And baptized them. Just as we baptize those who come to us. And each Sunday, we come to the table, God’s table which has no limitations. And today, we will welcome Aiden and Ryker to that table for the first time, as they receive their first communions.
 
Love one another as I have loved you. God loves us in our uniqueness, delights in who we are, and calls us to contribute the gifts we have been given to the beauty of this world. And we are called to love all those we encounter in their uniqueness, pushing out the circle until it disappears. Because the Spirit is coming, and where the Spirit is, there is no “them” and “us.” Thanks be to God!
 

READING: John 10:22-30                                                
 
Jesus responds to questions about his identity with the remarkable claim that he and the Father are one. Those who understand this are his sheep; they hear his voice, follow, and will never be snatched from his hand.

​22At that time the festival of the Dedication took place in Jerusalem. It was winter, 23and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the portico of Solomon. 24So the Jews gathered around him and said to him, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.” 25Jesus answered, “I have told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me; 26but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. 27My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. 28I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand. 29What my Father has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand. 30The Father and I are one.”
 
As I read these texts, all I see is new life, all over—Peter calls on God to raise Tabitha, Jesus promises to give his sheep eternal life, the faithful are brought through what Revelation calls “the ordeal,” and will have food, drink, and shelter from the heat—God will lead them to water. It is Easter, and Jesus is risen indeed!
 
Revelation is not usually my “go to” preaching text, but as I looked at the passages for this week, especially in light of what is happening in this season in the world all around us, I found myself really drawn to these words. There is so much promise here, and such a profound hope woven into this ancient vision. And what is particularly captivating to me is the nature of the promises.
 
This is not a promise of great wealth, or strength, or power, and it is not speaking specifically to those who HAVE great wealth and strength and power. It is speaking life and hope to those who have been through “the ordeal.”
 
Have you been hungry? Have you been thirsty? Have you had to comfort your children when you didn’t have enough to feed them?
 
Have you been imprisoned, or enslaved, trapped in a system designed to control you and keep you and “your people” in their place?
 
Have you been ill, your body impacted by a disease that is managed and treated but not cured, and been judged as weak and broken? Have you been financially devastated by medical costs because the treatment or cure you need is too expensive to afford in a health care system that doesn’t always seem to care about those who are ill and poor at the same time?
 
Have you been without a place to call home, exiled, perhaps even cast away from your own family? Have people told you that you do not have value, are outside the realm of God’s love?
 
Have you been told that your very existence is illegal, or that you and everyone like you are a threat to society? Have you been told that you don’t have a right to seek a better life in a new place, but must resign yourself to staying in a place of violence, deep chronic poverty, environmental devastation, or other horrors that make just staying alive almost impossible?
 
Have you been through the ordeal?
 
This word is for you! Among people, lines are drawn, borders established, norms and expectations set, and some are in and others are out. With God, revealed in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, the lines are erased, borders eliminated, and norms and expectations ignored.
 
Multitudes come from all corners of the Earth. Language, tribe, nation, do not prevent anyone from coming before God. There are no barriers or restrictions. No minimum or maximum income, no work requirement, no fees, no judgement based on religion, no baseline of success that must be met. You will not find yourself excluded because others have found you unworthy. In fact, those who have been through the ordeal are particularly invited.
 
Jesus himself went through the ordeal. He was challenged, interrogated, tortured and put to death because he stood, with every fiber of his being, against the power of the systems that tried to write him off and cast him out. Who better to invite us in and lead us through, than the one who walked through the ordeal, and came out alive? Jesus, John tells us, is the Good Shepherd, one who does not ever abandon the sheep, no matter what happens. We can trust Jesus to guide us not just when things are clear and easy, but when they are at their most challenging, complicated, and even painful. The shepherd is with us for the long haul.
 
“For this reason they are before the throne of God, and worship him day and night within his temple, and the one who is seated on the throne will shelter them. 16 They will hunger no more, and thirst no more; the sun will not strike them, nor any scorching heat; 17 for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd, and he will guide them to springs of the water of life, and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.” This is the promise of God revealed in Jesus, the promise made to all those who have been through the ordeal. Whatever you have been through, whatever ordeal you have faced, this promise is for you.
 
Are you hungry? Come, and eat. Are you thirsty, drink! Does your body carry pain, illness, scars? Come, and find whatever will bring you and your body rest, care, and healing. Are you alone, abandoned, rejected? You are welcome, valued, and loved—come and be embraced by the God who will not ever cast you out.
 
Easter reveals hope that comes only after Good Friday, only after death, only on the other side of the ordeal. We read texts like these and know that in Christ, death will never be the end of the story, and that resurrection, healing, life, and hope come when we challenge injustice with faith. When we face the systems that marginalize, stand up against the powers and protocols that judge and oppress, name injustice, and reach our hands across the artificial lines that divide us, we are acting in the faith that God’s vision and promise for us, all of us, is an end to the ordeal.
 
It can be hard to believe this, can’t it, when the ordeal persists? When the challenges, the pain, the rejection, the failures, continue? Jesus invites us is to join him, to reach out for his hand. Reach out your hand for another who is walking through the ordeal, and is too tired to move. Ask someone to lift you up and carry you when you don’t have the energy to even stand anymore. And know that we may not see it yet, but we are coming closer with every step to the day when the ordeal will end, justice and the love of God will prevail, and John’s vision will come to pass. Thanks be to God!

​READING: John 21:1-19                             
 
1After [he appeared to his followers in Jerusalem,] Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he showed himself in this way. 2Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his disciples. 3Simon 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. 
  4Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. 5Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They answered him, “No.” 6He 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. 7That 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. 8But 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. 
  9When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. 10Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” 11So 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. 12Jesus 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. 13Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. 14This was now the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead. 
  15When 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.” 16A 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.” 17He 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. 18Very 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.” 
 
The first time Peter met Jesus, he was on a boat, fishing. They had been out all night, hoping to bring in enough to pay the bills, but hadn’t had any luck. Until Jesus shows up, suggests they cast the net to the other side of the boat. And they hauled in more fish than the nets could hold. A miracle of abundance.
 
Three years or so later, Peter is once again on the boat. Once again, he had been out all night, and not a fish to be had. And this time, it wasn’t just trying to feed his family that was weighing on his mind. Jesus, the one who had opened Peter’s mind to the impossible, had died. And Peter, for all his passionate promises that he would stay by Jesus’ side, that he would never abandon him, that he would stand and fight and suffer death himself rather than leave Jesus alone, had denied him. Not once, but three times.
 
None of us ever know, really, how we will respond when we are put to the test, do we? Will we say something when we hear a someone tell a joke that is racist or homophobic or anti-Semitic? Even if the person making the joke is close friend, or relative? Will we take it upon ourselves to sit next to the person sitting by themselves in the lunch room, the break room, the classroom or staff meeting, the one who doesn’t fit in with the rest? Will we stand up for a person who is being mistreated, abused, discriminated against, or will we turn away, as Peter did, and pretend we didn’t see, didn’t know?
 
We all fail at this stuff, at times. We all turn away when we should turn toward, stay silent when we should speak, claim ignorance as a way to try to distance ourselves from what we know. So we can all imagine how Peter must have felt, on that second time out on the boat, as he tried to forget his guilt, his shame, his despair and exhaustion. And the shock and perhaps even a little bit of dread, when it happened again. That voice, asking them to put the nets out on the other side of the boat. The weight and tension, and the sound of the nets as they stretched to the breaking point, and his fellow fishers straining to heave them up before the nets snapped. And Peter knew. They all did. It could only be Jesus. What could Peter possibly say, to him?
 
Back on the shore, they ate their fill of the fish they had caught. And then, finally, Jesus and Peter talk. Three times, Peter had denied he knew Jesus. And three times, Jesus asks, and Peter claims, passionately—he loves Jesus.
 
Peter isn’t perfect, is he? But Jesus calls him anyway, seeing that, in spite of Peter’s mistakes, his human failure, he really does love Jesus. Truly wants to serve God and God’s people. And God seems to be in the habit of calling imperfect people, the most unlikely of disciples. Moses had trouble speaking. David, King David, hero of Israel, committed adultery and murder. Mary was poor, unknown, a woman in a patriarchal world.
 
And of course there is Saul, who had spent years hunting down, arresting, and executing followers of The Way, early Christians, after Jesus’ death. Ananias was afraid to go to Saul after he was struck blind on the Road to Damascus, but he did, anyway, and Saul became Paul, one of the primary leaders and teachers of the early Christian church. A most unlikely disciple, indeed.
 
And Peter, for all his weakness under pressure, becomes among the strongest and bravest of the Apostles, one of those who followed Jesus, quite literally to the cross. In the end, he keeps his promise to Jesus, even though it means his own death.
 
It is no coincidence that Jesus’ command to Peter, in response to Peter’s claims that he does love Jesus, is to feed and tend his sheep. Care for the people of God. We, too, are called to care for each other. Share the abundance that God has given for ALL, making sure that no one is hungry, that everyone has a place to call home. Stand against injustice, proclaiming the message of God’s radical, inclusive, love and grace for all people, without exceptions. Recognize that the differences among us are evidence of the creative abundance of the God who made us all, that none of us has all the answers, and that we do better, all of us, when we stand together.
 
As Pastor Amy Ogden, Director for Evangelical Mission at the Northeast MN Synod, reflected on this story in preparation for the Synod Assembly which took place this weekend. She wrote, “We have heard and learned here at this Synod Assembly a lot about accompaniment. How accompaniment happens where “my story” and “your story” meet “God’s story” in an intersection of relationships where we walk together in God, through the Spirit, and by Christ’s example.  Just as Jesus accompanies the disciples in the midst of their exhaustion and confusion, revealing himself, making sense of his death on the cross and the biblical prophecies about him, and making himself known among them through a meal on the beach - So too are we called to be like Christ in a humble journey together as companions along Christ’s path - and we can trust that God is present among us in both our joys and sorrows, in our deep gratitude and in all our doubts.”
 
We, like Moses, like David, like Mary, like Saul, and Peter, are human, imperfect, beloved children of God. We claim and celebrate this truth each time we come together as a community to witness a baptism, as we will today for Bentley.
We may not feel we are qualified, may in fact feel, as Peter did, that the mistakes we have made make us about the least qualified people to follow Jesus. We aren’t perfect, and don’t always know how we will do when put to the test. It may come as a surprise to realize that, for all our challenges, we really do love God, and want to follow him, and even more surprising that God would want us. But then, God seems to be in a habit of calling unlikely disciples.
 

READING: John 20:1-18 
1Early 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. 2So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” 3Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. 4The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. 5He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. 6Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, 7and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. 8Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; 9for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. 10Then the disciples returned to their homes. 
 
  11But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; 12and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. 13They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” 14When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. 15Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” 16Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). 17Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’ ” 18Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her. 
 
Resurrection joy to you in the name of Jesus, the risen one!
 
Two days ago, we stood at the cross. As we listened and looked on, Jesus told his friend and mother to watch over each other. He asked for something to drink. He told the person hanging on the cross next to him that there would be a place for him in paradise. He asked God to forgive the ones who were killing him. He cried out in despair: “My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?” And finally, Jesus commended himself to God, and he died.
 
His side was pierced by a sword, and after soldiers had determined that Jesus was dead, his body was removed from the cross, and laid in his mother’s arms. She held him as she wept. Jesus was wrapped in linens, and placed in a borrowed tomb. His family didn’t expect him to die like that, and didn’t have one prepared. A large stone was rolled in the front of the tomb to seal it off.
 
In A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens declares, “Marley was dead, to begin with. This must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.” And I say to you this morning, “Jesus was dead, to begin with, and this must be distinctly understood, or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.”
 
Because, although Jesus’ death is not the end of the story, if we don’t know the sacredness and intimacy of Maundy Thursday, the horror of Good Friday, and the silent despair of Holy Saturday, Easter Sunday comes like too much chocolate or jelly beans on an empty stomach. It tastes really good, but it won’t get us very far.
 
The women who went to the tomb that morning, bearing spices, were there when Jesus died. They knew he was gone, and didn’t have the slightest expectation that he had survived all that had happened. They were drawn to the tomb that morning not by the thought that Jesus might be alive, but by the call of their faith to honor one they had loved and followed by anointing the body that was left. They were there because they were not afraid to face the darkness of the tomb.
 
They faced the darkness, walked into the tomb, and saw evidence of the miracle. The stone, rolled away. An empty tomb. A pile of linen, left lying on the floor. What would you have thought, had you been there? How would you have told the story to the others, waiting back in the Upper Room to hear about their visit to the tomb? What would you have thought, if you were one of Jesus’ other followers, hearing this story?
 
Miracles are very hard to explain, and nearly impossible to prove. “Jesus is gone!’ “What?” “The tomb is empty, the linens are just lying there on the ground, and he’s gone!” “What are you talking about? The stone takes two men to move, and the tomb has been sealed since Friday.” “I know, but still he’s gone, and the men there said we shouldn’t seek the living among the dead. I think . . . I think he might be alive!” “OK, why don’t you sit down here, and let us get you something to eat.” “You aren’t listening! Remember what Jesus said, about how he would be handed over, and killed, and would be raised on the third day? This is the third day, and we think it’s actually happened!”
 
The women themselves did not believe it at first. Mary was sure that someone was playing a cruel trick, that Jesus’ body had been stolen and hidden. As Mary begs to know where Jesus is, she hears the voice—that voice, the one she knew so well—saying her name. And she believed. And knowing how crazy it might sound, she goes to tell the others.
 
Resurrection is impossible to explain or prove, and yet . . . for those who have experienced it, it changes everything. The women who went to the tomb and the other disciples who followed them, the disciples on the road to Emmaus . . . once they had witnessed the resurrection, they were never the same. They faced the darkness of the tomb, knew the despair, and were transformed when they discovered that death was not the final word.
 

 
And resurrection was not just a one-time event, but is a promise from God in Jesus that when we enter the tomb, God will be there. Those who have been to the tomb know this. People who have lived with the devastation of addiction and found recovery. People who have experienced profound grief, and found to their surprise one day that, if only for a moment, they could feel joy again. People who have found reconciliation after years of estrangement, or healing and empowerment after living with abuse.
 
In times of darkness and destruction, we need to hear this promise. As we witness the ashes of Notre Dame Cathedral in France, and the horror of racism that has led to the burning of yet three more black churches in the last month in our own country, we need to know that even in the face of fire, oppression, and grief, death will never be the final word.
 
Resurrection is not a magic eraser that takes away the pain, and the darkness, and the despair. Jesus was dead, to begin with, and nothing can ever change the horror of that. What resurrection does is reveal the loving, redemptive, presence of God in the midst. And that changes everything.
 
The promise of the resurrection brought first by the women who visited the tomb that morning is that no matter how dark the tomb is, God is with us in the tomb, and there is light and life and healing and hope on the other side. When we know that, we can face the tomb even if we are afraid. Resurrection is hard to explain, and impossible to prove, but when we see it, we have to tell the story. Today, just like the women who loved Jesus, God calls our name, and we are called to be witnesses to the resurrection. All we have to do is gather our spices and go to the tomb. Come with me, and then tell anyone who ​will listen: Alleluia! Christ is risen!

​reading: John 13:1-17, 31b-35                                                         
1Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. 2The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him. And during supper 3Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, 4got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. 5Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. 6He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” 7Jesus answered, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” 8Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” 9Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” 10Jesus said to him, “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.” 11For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, “Not all of you are clean.” 
  12After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, “Do you know what I have done to you? 13You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. 14So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. 15For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. 16Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. 17If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.” 
 
  31b“Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. 32If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. 33Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come.’ 34I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. 35By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” 
 
Grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
 
What traditions or wisdom have been handed on to you? I learned how to make popcorn from my grandmother. Use a big pan—the kind with two handles on it—and put in just enough oil to cover the bottom. Add exactly three kernels of popcorn, put it on medium heat on the stove, and when the third kernel pops, add the rest of the popcorn. Shake occasionally. When the popping slows, remove from the heat, and when all the popping has stopped, pour the popcorn into the bowl. Add real melted butter and salt—don’t skimp!
 
Over the years, I have tried many ways of making popcorn, from air poppers to oil poppers to kettle corn makers and even microwave, and none have ever measured up. A big part of it is the taste, of course, but more important than that is the connection I feel to my grandmother. Sure, I use olive oil instead of Wesson oil, and Kosher salt instead of regular table salt, but in all essentials, each time I make popcorn on the stove, I am participating in what my grandmother handed on to me. What has been handed on to you?
 
Jesus knew the hour had come for him to depart from this world. Jesus knew that this was the last time he would sit with his disciples, share Passover with them. It was his last opportunity to hand on his most sacred thoughts before he died, his last chance to show them, and us, what is really important.
 
Today we celebrate Maundy Thursday, and so we begin the most sacred days of the Christian church year. This is a time set aside for us as a community to remember. We have come before our God, acknowledged our sin, and received God’s love and forgiveness. We have prepared ourselves, and now we begin this journey. Over these days, we remember the extravagant, redemptive, love of God for us and for all of creation revealed in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. And today, we remember what our dear friend, Jesus, handed on to us in the final hours before he died.
 
Jesus and his friends were celebrating Passover together that night. Just as we gather today to remember, they gathered to remember how God saved them and guided them in the desert. They were following an ancient command that had been handed on to them to tell and retell the story of how God brought them out of slavery and led them through the unknown, to freedom.
Jesus wants us to remember, too. You and I are on a journey into the unknown together, an opportunity to explore where you have been as a congregation and where you are going, to ask yourselves how God is calling you to minister together from here. What traditions and ways of being are serving God well, and what is God calling us to let go of so we can better contribute to the Kin-dom of God in the world? Times of transition call us to these questions, and Jesus wants us to remember that we are not alone on the journey. God freed the Israelites, and guided them every step of their way. God frees us from all that enslaves us, and guides us on our way. The command to remember has been handed on for centuries, and it is ours now.
 
On that last night, sharing a final meal with his friends, Jesus wanted us to know that God frees us and guides us. The journey in the desert can feel dry and long and lonely sometimes. Jesus wanted his friends to know that in spite of what would happen later that night and the next day, no matter how much grief and despair they would feel, Jesus’s death would not be the final word. In times like this, with so much division and hatred and fear in our country and in the world, we need to know that God can bring life out of death. We need to know that God is with us, even, and perhaps especially, when things are at their darkest. Jesus tells us to share the Eucharist as a remembrance of his death and promise of resurrection, and every time we celebrate the Eucharist, Jesus shares his very life with us.
 
Jesus wants us to remember that the promise of the resurrection is that God will always be with us. We celebrate the Eucharist and we are nourished, body and soul, as our bodies are fed and our spirits filled again with the promise of life and forgiveness. Paul says, “For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you.” And so it has been handed on to us.
 
After Jesus and his disciples had finished eating their final meal before his death, Jesus knelt down and washed the feet of his disciples. It was, of course, an act of humility and service. But more than that, washing another person’s feet is incredibly vulnerable, intimate, full of love.
 
Jesus was telling his friends, “I know you. I know those parts of you that you keep hidden. I know your dirt, your sweat, your warts, your pain, your exhaustion. And I love you.” On the night before he died, at the last meal he would share with his friends, Jesus showed them how intimately God loves us, warts and all. There is no part of you that God does not know, intimately. And there is no part of you that God does not love.
 
And here is the most remarkable thing about Jesus’ act of intimate love: Jesus washed the feet of not only John, who will stay at Jesus’ side, holding Jesus’ mother while he dies, but of all of the disciples. The ones who will abandon him. Peter, who will deny he knew Jesus. Even Judas, who will betray him, turn him over to be tortured and killed. God knows us intimately, and loves us fully, even when we abandon and deny and betray God, and one another.
 
And then Jesus says, “For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.” We are called to know and love one another that way, actively, humbly, intimately. We are called to see one another’s warts, and love them. We are called to allow God, and others, to see our warts, and let them love us. In the face of acts of terror, of messages of fear and hatred of those different from us, the call to draw lines between those who are in and out, this is Jesus’s message to us. Be vulnerable to one another. Love one another, no matter what. This vulnerability is terrifying . . . and it is precisely how God heals and frees us to be the people we were created to be. And how God works through us to heal and free others. This kind of love will not be contained. It must be handed on, and on, and on.
 
As we gather to remember, and as we hear the story of the washing of the feet, we are reminded of the waters of our baptisms, and the promise of God’s radical, unconditional love and forgiveness. We are called to remember that God overcomes even death. We are called to remember that no matter what has us enslaved, God has set us free. This is what has been handed on to us, and this is what we are called to hand on to those who come after us.
 
Today we come together to carry on sacred traditions handed on to us, and as happens each time I make my grandmother’s popcorn, we are carried beyond ourselves, beyond this moment in time. This is about us, but it is not just about us. As we share the Eucharist, and tell the stories, we are profoundly connected to God, and to our whole Christian family going back generations and generations. We remember who we are, who we are called to be, as children of God. This is what has been handed on to you. How will you hand that on to those coming after us?
 
Amen.

Grace and peace to you, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.
“There is a time to weep, and a time to laugh. A time to mourn, and a time to dance. A time to live, and a time to die.” Weeping, laughing, mourning, dancing, living, dying, all are part of life. And today, David and Joanne, Beth and Matt, and Christopher, and dear friends and colleagues and neighbors, we gather in a time of mourning as we say goodbye to Dorie Anderson.
My time with Dorie was brief, but the memories of you who knew and loved her is long, and deep. Dorie had such a beautiful, warm, presence, impacting so many people during her journey here on earth. You may remember her standing with Herb, welcoming people as they came into Bethel Lutheran and making sure everyone felt connected and included in the community. You might have encountered her coordinating weddings, singing and playing bells, serving as financial secretary or on the Altar Guild, and so many other things here at Bethel. Perhaps you can see Dorie pan-frying her now iconic meatballs for the annual Lutefisk Dinner—oven-baking would never do, in her opinion!
You may know Dorie’s work with Lutheran Social Services, which she did for nearly 50 years, helping to provide housing for people with developmental disabilities, creating a rummage sale to support that ministry. David, you recall that if Dorie wasn’t at Bethel, she was probably working with LSS! Dorie was so committed to living out her faith in her community.

Or, you might picture Dorie making endless Christmas cookies and candy with family, playing Yahtzee, camping, or singing Amazing Grace. When Dorie was around, people knew her presence, if only because she so often whistled while she did almost anything, and I am told you could read her mood by how it sounded!
Today, her journey is coming to an end. Dorie passed away at Little Falls Care Center early Saturday morning, and her body has returned to the dust from which it came. And this morning, we gather as a community to mark this time, this time to mourn, and send Dorie’s family with our blessings. On Monday they will carry Dorie’s ashes to their final resting place, and even now, Dorie is reunited with her beloved husband Herb and her daughter Janet. There is a time to mourn, a time to weep. And today, is that time.
As we gather in faith to give thanks for Dorie’s life, and mourn her death, we are reminded on this Eve of Holy Week and the final days of Jesus’ life before his death, that although Dorie’s journey on earth among us has come to an end, and she has died, as all of us will, death is not the end of the story. Jesus’ death was followed by resurrection and new life, and through him, we too are promised new life. In the Gospel passage Dorie chose for this day, Jesus calls us to him. Through Christ, our burdens are lifted, and we find rest for our weariness. When we come burdened with weariness, and even death, the love and mercy of God will never fail. In the waters of baptism, we were welcomed into that grace, the promise that although our lives here are temporary, death will not have the final word. God claimed Dorie as his daughter, and promised that even death would not separate her from his love.
Dorie’s death leaves a hole in your lives. As you continue your journey here, it will be without her physical presence among you. It is a time of grieving and loss, a time for sharing memories with gratitude. And it is a time to recognize that God is with you, and holds you in the midst of grief and sadness. God is always present, always faithful to us. And as Dorie modelled so well, we can live out the promise of God, trusting in God to lift our burdens, and help to lift the burdens of others as we walk this journey together.
In baptism, Dorie was welcomed into the grace of God, and now that she has died, through the promise of Jesus’ death and resurrection, she has been welcomed home. So in the days to come, as you grieve, and remember, and share stories with one another, this is a time mourn, and God walks that journey with us. As you celebrate who Dorie was, and embrace the promise of God revealed in Jesus, it is also a time to laugh, and sing, and even whistle! There is a time, and season for everything. And God is there in all of it.
Thanks be to God!

​READING: John 12:1-8                       
                                               
1Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. 2There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. 3Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. 4But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, 5“Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” 6(He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) 7Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. 8You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”
 
I love the words and images in the first reading from Isaiah today. They just wash over me, full of hope and promise and life. “I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. The wild animals will honor me, the jackals and the ostriches; for I give water in the wilderness, rivers in the desert, to give drink to my chosen people, the people whom I formed for myself so that they might declare my praise.”
 
So much promise, and so appropriate to hear these words while we are surrounded by a creation that is springing forth around us. Just two weeks ago, we went snow tubing! And now, there are bunnies hopping around on bare ground (and fleeing from our cats, who are constantly wining to be let out these days!), ducks quacking and swimming and splashing in ponds and lakes, grass starting to green, and peonies popping purplish sprouts through bare earth that just a few weeks ago was covered with snow. Spring is bringing newness of life, proof that life persists even when death seems to have won the day. And when we head to the farm today, we will likely see many signs of new life springing forth, if we keep our eyes open!
 
And in a way, the story of Jesus and Mary today are speaking this same hope and promise and life right into the certainty of Jesus’ death. There is a lavishness about Mary’s radical act. The way she pours out perfume to anoint Jesus, so valuable and in such quantities that Judas protests, saying that the perfume could have been sold for what is thought to amount to 300 days of labor! But this is exactly the generous lavishness of God, as we are told so many times in the scriptures.
 
A new thing is springing forth, just when we think death has won. Abundant grace and mercy is all around us, just when we thought all was lost.
 
How sad that Judas cannot see it! Stuck in his own world of lack and scarcity, Judas is like the dwarves at the end of CS Lewis’ Narnia Chronicles. They are sitting in a tight little circle, looking only at each other, fighting over what they are convinced is food mixed with dung and hay in a creepy, smelly, dark barn. The children and Aslan (CS Lewis’ representation of Jesus) try to convince the dwarves that if they just open their eyes, they will see that they are actually in a beautiful field, and that the table before them holds only the best food and drink, but the dwarves won’t trust anyone but themselves.
 
Judas can only trust himself as he struggles to figure out how to get Jesus to do what he thinks has to be done to change the minds of their leaders, so that the oppressive Roman rule can be overthrown at last. Judas wants so badly to talk Jesus into being the savior he thinks he should be, that he completely misses the savior that Jesus is!
 
In a way, it is no wonder that Judas was a little confused about what Jesus tried to tell him. So are we, often, when we think we hear Jesus saying, never mind about the poor, they’ll always be here, no need to worry about helping them out right now. But knowing Jesus’ commitment to those living in poverty and oppression, throughout his ministry, and knowing the over-the-top generosity of our God, gives us a different lens to look through—it opens our eyes in a way that Judas was too stingy, or perhaps more likely too afraid, to do.
 
Jesus in the flesh will not always be with us, Jesus tells us, and yet in the present reality of all people, and especially those who live in poverty, Jesus is and always will be with us. And, in clearer translations of the last few words of Jesus’ message to Judas, Jesus is telling us not to dismiss the poor, but rather, to keep those experiencing poverty close. Don’t set them over there, to be hidden or pitied or judged or plain forgotten.
 
Don’t postpone sharing God’s abundance for later, or see that sharing as something to be done only at special times and places. Open your eyes to see that all people are a part of us, and God’s bounty is for all of God’s people, not just a few. Jesus is calling us to embrace all of our siblings, and especially those living in poverty, as fully us, fully members of this family of God in which all people share in God’s extravagant abundance. Keep the poor close!
 
Paul is quick to remind the Philippians, and us, that we will always be works in progress, that we will always be moving toward the ideal of living into God’s kin-dom, no matter how much we achieve on our own accord. And that should give us great hope as we walk together on this journey, growing more and more into who we are as God’s children.
 
Isaiah is calling out for us to see and hear and feel the new life that is coming! Mary takes a step into that, as she claims life in the midst of death. And Jesus reminds us to claim all people as siblings, and to trust that the abundance of God will be enough for all. Over and over, he has proven it to us. “I am about to do a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.”
 
Today, as we surround ourselves with the beauty of creation blooming into spring, lambs being tended by their mothers, and an abundance of food and land and air, let us feel gratitude for the extravagant love and bounty of God, who invites us to walk into life together! Thanks be to God!