The water was calm and cool that day. So calm you could see your reflection. And though the sun was hot, the water was cool near the banks of the Jordan River. There, surrounded by the lush trees and shrubs, John the Baptizer was performing the baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. This strange man who dressed in odd clothes and ate bizarre food had developed quite a following. He preached a message of repentance for all to prepare themselves for the powerful One who would soon come. He told the crowds present that he was baptizing with water but One greater than he would soon come and baptize with the Holy Spirit. And that One – that One was so great – that John wasn’t even worthy enough to untie His sandals. John was preparing the way for this powerful One, yet little did he know that on that day The Way had arrived.

One by one John baptized the people who came to him in the banks of the Jordan River. As each one came up out of the water, he saw the reflection of the next one. As John gazed into the water that day in preparation for the next person he saw a special reflection. He turned around and there was Jesus. John recognized him. He knew this was the One he had told everyone about. I imagine that John’s mind must have raced. Was he seeing things? Why was Jesus coming to John? John knew it was he who should be baptized by Jesus. I’m sure John protested for a few minutes, but Jesus would insist. Jesus was about to begin his public ministry and this baptism was necessary.

It was so necessary that Jesus came down from Galilee to the Jordan River to be baptized. He came a long way. The Jordan River is a long winding river. It’s less than 100 miles long if you measured it straight, but because it is such a meandering zigzag it measures almost 200 miles long. When John spoke about making the crooked places straight, I’m sure he thought about that very river. The name Jordan means descender and the river descends from 1000 feet above sea level from its beginning North at Galilee near Mt. Harmon to 1300 feet below sea level into the Dead Sea. That’s a long steep descent, but not as long as the descent God made to become Flesh. There’s no place too deep that God won’t go to bring us salvation.

That’s why Jesus went down into the Jordan River that day. This marked the beginning of his public ministry. Jesus knew what His calling in life was and it was time to make that known. And as Jesus rose up out of the water that day He saw the heavens torn apart. The clouds didn’t just move aside; the heavens were ripped open, torn apart. Later in Mark’s gospel we will hear this same language when the curtains of the temple where God was believed to dwell would be torn apart immediately after Jesus died. Baptism reminds us that birth and death are inseparable. Jesus willingly descended into the Jordan river to be baptized not because He needed His sins washed away – for He was sinless – but in obedience to His calling to fulfill God’s covenant promise of salvation for all people. Jesus plunged into flesh to transform our flesh. Jesus plunged into darkness to transform the darkness into light. Jesus plunged into death to transform it to life – a life that is filled with power through the gift of baptism.  

Through baptism our connection with God is sealed. We become children of God. And just as the Spirit of the Living God descended on Jesus like a dove, through baptism we are forever sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever. Just as Jesus heard the words, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased,” God speaks to us and pours grace upon us in the waters of baptism. We are strengthened just like Jesus for the task of public ministry and like Jesus’ ministry, it won’t be easy. Immediately after Jesus’ baptism, the Spirit drove Him into the wilderness. It didn’t suggest or guide Him; it drove Him – compelled Him – into the wilderness to face temptations.

Our life as a Christian drives us to battle with the forces of evil too. A life of a Christian is not a guarantee of a life of ease. On the contrary, it is a guarantee of a life of struggle, for we are called to stand up for justice no matter what the cost. We are called to stand up for the truth even if it causes us pain. We are called to stand up for peace even if it brings us ridicule. We are called not only to love our enemies, but love them so much that we no longer see them as enemies, but see them as children of God. There will be opposition, but we do not struggle alone. God is with us. And while the water and the word of baptism free us from a life enslaved to sin, we are still human and sin is a part of our broken world, but sin no longer dominates us. That is why we need to be reminded of our baptism daily. God, through baptism, has given us a new hope and not one that is merely in the future, but part of our present day reality.

Martin Luther called baptism the most priceless treasure. It’s told that when he was filled with discouragement and anguish that he would yell out loud “I am baptized!” He did this because it brought him peace during those difficult times. Let us proclaim, I am baptized! when we find ourselves shaken to the core. In the face of financial oppression – I am baptized!. In the pain of illness – I am baptized! In the face of ridicule – I am baptized! In the face of doubt – I am baptized! In the face of mistreatment – I am baptized! In the face of depression – I am baptized! In the face of loneliness – I am baptized! In the face of heartache – I am baptized!  In whatever situation we find ourselves in – there is no place that the waters of baptism cannot restore and transform us.

And once renewed and transformed we are compelled to share this Good News to the entire world – in our schools and in our jobs, our neighborhoods, prisons, the grocery stores, the banks, the movie theatres, the laundry mats, the local pub. Every day there is someone we meet that needs to hear that God has come to set them free. The voice from heaven is waiting to speak to others through us. I’m not talking about lengthy sermons; I’m talking about responding with a word of kindness and love when someone says they hate us. It’s speaking a word of forgiveness when we have been wounded. It’s speaking a word of hope to someone who questions the value of their own life. It’s speaking a word of compassion to someone who has made a mistake knowing that we all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. It’s speaking a word of grace when someone is speaking evil of another person. It’s speaking a word of love when someone is speaking a word of violence. We are baptized and we must descend on the world like a dove and be instruments of God’s peace and love; a love that tears open the darkest places and reveals God’s glory and light, a love that plunges into the depths of humanity with a light that cannot be stopped, a hope that cannot be squelched and a fire that cannot be put out. Amen.

I love rocks. I used to collect them when I was young and even today I have a bowl in my living room with several different kinds of unusual rocks and stones. Each one is unique and tells a story – a story of where it came from, what it’s made of and what its shape resembles. No matter where I travel, there’s never a shortage. Just look at the region of the country we live in – NH, the granite state; no shortage of rock here. And there certainly was no shortage of rocks and stones where Jesus lived. We read in the Scriptures of Jesus traveling in the wilderness walking long miles every day over hot, sandy, stones. He preached on a mountain made of rock, was tempted to turn stones to bread, challenged people not to throw stones at a woman accused of sin, and it was a rock that sealed his tomb.Rocks can be used to destroy or to build up.

But in today’s Gospel we hear of a different kind of rock. Jesus calls Peter Πέτρος in Greek- πέτρᾳ or Rock. Why would Jesus give Peter a new name and one so similar sounding to his own? Was he just playing with words or did he have something more important in mind? Jesus said on this rock I will build my church. Was he referring to Peter or was he referring to the statement Peter made? You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God. Or was Jesus referring to himself, the rock on which the church is built? The setting for the question posed to the disciples gives us a hint.

In the previous chapter in Matthew we read about the Pharisees and scribes questioning Jesus about the letter of the law. They were concerned with dietary and purification laws, but Jesus tried to tell them it’s what’s inside a person that makes him clean or unclean, but they didn’t understand. Then Jesus fed the multitudes, but afterwards the disciples were the ones who didn’t understand what Jesus was trying to tell them. After that, he and the disciples travelled 25 miles north of the Sea of Galillee to Cesarea Philippi. It is here that Jesus asks the question “Who do you say that I am?” to the disciples. It was an odd place to ask such a pivotal question. Cesarea Philippi was a place filled with all kinds of temples to various gods. There was a giant marble temple built for Caesar Augustus and his son Philippi who were worshipped as gods, a temple to the Syrian god Baal, a temple to the Greek god Pan – god of shepherds and flocks and various other temples. It was an odd place to ask such a question – among all those other gods – wasn’t it? Or maybe it was the perfect setting.

Some people, said the disciples, thought he was John the Baptist come back from the dead or even Elijah. But Jesus was not concerned with what anyone else thought. Jesus wanted to know what they thought. Surrounded by the rumors of who he might be, surrounded by the temples to the various gods, Jesus asked the disciples “Who do you say that I am?” And Peter’s response “You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God” stood out among all the false gods that surrounded them. It was on this truth, this rock, that Jesus would build His church.

It’s the first time in the four gospels that Jesus specifically refers to the church, the body of believers. Yet, he tells the disciples not to reveal he is the Christ, the Messiah, to anyone at that time. Peter finally proclaims who Jesus is and they were supposed to keep it a secret? Peter may have proclaimed it, but he didn’t understand it. We see that in next week’s gospel when Peter will try and prevent Jesus from going to the cross and Jesus will say “Get behind me Satan.” Peter wanted an earthly Messiah. He wanted an earthly god, perhaps much like the ones that they looked at among the temples that day at Cesarea Philippi. Perhaps Jesus said to keep it a secret, because He knew they didn’t understand. To say Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Living God is no small statement and it comes with consequences.

Jesus asks us this same question today. “Who do you say that I am?” He is not interested in the memorized creeds or the written confessions if they do not come from our hearts. He wants to know from the depths of our souls who we believe Jesus is. And if we say Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Living God, we must be ready for the consequences or we might as well keep it a secret. To say You Are the Christ is to echo the words I AM spoken by God to Moses on the mountain. It is to acknowledge Jesus is the Son of the Triune God and is the Savior of the world. This profession changes everything.

It changes the way we think, the way we act, the way we live our lives. To say that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Living God means that we love others as He does. We love the outcasts as much as our best friends. We forgive those who hurt us because we have been forgiven. We treasure all God’s children because we ourselves are treasured by God.

The church, unlike the stones I collect, is made of living stones. Each one is unique and has a story – a story of where we came from, what we are made of, and who we resemble. We were born with a purpose from our Creator, each with different gifts yet all resembling the image of God from whom we were created. To say that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Living God means that He is the Lord of our life and not any of the false gods we are tempted to worship. Like Peter, we too have been given keys – keys to unlock hardened hearts with the Word of God. We are called to reveal God’s grace to the world, a world that desperately needs to hear the Good News of Christ, the Solid Rock on which we stand. We are the living rocks that make up the church. What kind of rocks are we? Will we destory or will we build up?  Amen

Less than three months ago we embarked on this mysterious journey called CPE – Clinical Pastoral Education. We quickly were introduced to a new vocabulary of didactics, IPR’s and verbatims. What concerned us all the most was what were we going to say to these strangers who needed our help? We worried over finding the right words and doing the right things. We knew we couldn’t heal them, but we wanted to try.

And try we did. We encountered people who suffered from dementia and saw their minds fade in and out of awareness. We sat beside people who were undergoing chemotherapy hoping for a cure and listened with compassion to those who revealed they only had a short time left to live. We stood by the beds and in the rooms of those anxious about an upcoming surgery, we read to those who were lonely and felt alone, we sat at the bedsides gently holding the hands of those who were taking their last breaths in this life, and prayed and breathed new life into those who needed to feel the Spirit of the living God.

And through it all we experienced our own personal tragedies. Our pain, ever so close to the surface at times, kept veiled enough to keep those for whom we encountered from feeling our own burdens. Yet laughter and joy somehow found its way in the spaces between. The space between life and death. The space between today’s anxieties and tomorrow’s peace.  The space between fear and hope. It’s where we all live and where we do our ministry – in the space between. And our job as ministers is to help people see God in the spaces between.

Henri Nouwen in his book The Wounded Healer, tells a story about fugitive hiding in a small village. The people were kind to him and offered him a place to stay. But when the soldiers who sought the fugitive asked where he was hiding, everyone became afraid. The soldiers threatened to burn the village and kill everyone if they didn’t hand over the fugitive before dawn. The minister didn’t want to hand over the fugitive or see the villagers killed so the minister went to his room and read his Bible hoping to find an answer. He read “It is better that one man dies than that the whole people be lost.” So the minister told the soldiers where the fugitive was hiding. The entire village celebrated because their lives were saved, but the minister was deeply troubled because the fugitive was killed. That night an angel came to him and asked “What have you done?” The minister said, “I handed over the fugitive to the enemy.” Then the angel said, ‘But don’t you know that you have handed over the Messiah?” “How could I know?” the minister asked. Then the angel said “If, instead of reading your Bible, you had visited this young man just once and looked into his eyes, you would have known.”

Ministry is not just about studying theology or searching the Bible for the right answers. It is about meeting people where they are – in the spaces between – and looking them in the eyes and seeing the Messiah. It is seeing the one in whose image we were all created, and revealing to others this image of God through our eyes. We do not need to speak the right words, God speaks through us.

Our eyes have been opened through this journey called CPE and we have been touched by those we have encountered as much as we have touched their lives. We have learned that it is not only in giving that we receive, but that in receiving we give.

We understand now with new minds.

We see now with new eyes.

We feel now with new hands.

And we love one another with new hearts.

We may have begun this journey in the hopes of healing others, but we ourselves have been healed in the process. For those encounters – the ones we prayed with, laughed with, cried with and rejoiced with – were sacred. They were holy encounters because whenever God is present all is made holy. And it is our mission to proclaim that God is always present even when it is not obvious or least expected. It is on this holy journey that we continue forward. Amen.

Go on ahead of me; I’ll catch up with you later. Haven’t we all said this at one time or another? We make plans to do something with our friends and we remember we have something we need to do first. So we tell them to go ahead and we’ll meet them there, wherever there is.

That’s exactly what Jesus said to the disciples in today’s Gospel. He had just fed the multitudes with 5 loaves and 2 fish and he said to the disciples you go get in the boat and I’ll catch up with you later. He wanted to go up to the mountain, away from the crowds, and pray. You see, for Jesus, it all began with prayer. Before he did anything, he prayed. Prayer was what joined him with the Father. Prayer is what joined him with the power of the Holy Spirit. Through prayer, the Divine relationship was complete.

Meanwhile, back in the boat, while Jesus was praying, the disciples were enjoying time out in the open seas. The waves were high and the winds were rough, but the disciples were used to rocky seas. They were fisherman and they enjoyed the sense of excitement and adventure that the wind and waves gave to a fishing trip. They were out on the water having a good time expecting to see Jesus on the other side. They were not expecting to see someone walking on the water! That’s what terrified them. It wasn’t the waves or the wind it was what they thought was a ghost! When you’re out on the rough waters you don’t expect someone to be walking on the water.

But it was Jesus. How could they not see that it was Jesus? How could they not recognize him? They were friends. They ate together, fished together, laughed together. He was like one of them, except for the miracles. There were the miracles. But he looked like them. This image walking on the water didn’t look like them. This image, this ghostly apparition, was frightening. It was powerful. It walked on the chaotic waters. It defied the laws of nature. This was something all- together too powerful. This was not something they knew, so they were terrified and they cried out in fear. Immediately, Jesus spoke to them and said “It is I; do not be afraid.” It is I.

These words are the same ones spoken to Moses from the Burning Bush. It is I or I AM. When Moses came down from the mountain he was changed, transformed and his face glowed from seeing the living God. When Jesus came down from the mountain after praying, he too was on fire with the light of the living God. He was filled with a power that was too much for the disciples to comprehend. So Jesus says, “It is I. Do not be afraid.” But Jesus’ words do not comfort them and so Peter says “Lord, if it is you, command me to come to you on the water.” That small word if makes a big difference.

“If it is you, command me to come to you on the water” Peter demanded. “If it is you, command these stones to turn into bread” Satan tempted. “If it is you, come down off of that cross” the soldiers mocked.Peter wasn’t just questioning whether it was Jesus on the water that day, he was questioning whether Jesus was truly the Son of God – just like Satan in the wilderness, just like the soldiers at the foot of the cross, just like us. We test God.

“If it is you, give me the money I need.”

“If it is you, make my family treat me better.”

“If it is you, take away my pain.”

“If it is you, make all the sufferings in the world disappear.”

“If it is you, give me whatever I want.”

 Like Peter, we want to walk on the water too. We want to be like God and we want to tell God what to do. But when we do that we fail because ultimately God is in control, not us.  Like Peter we sink into the depths and need rescuing. And just as Jesus was right there to pull Peter out of the sea, Jesus reaches out his hand to pull us out the chaos we find ourselves in.

Today’s Gospel message is not about Peter coming to Christ; it is about Christ coming to Peter and each to each one of us. Jesus gave the disciples a command to go on ahead of him in the boat and he would meet them on the other side.
Staying in the boat with each other was Jesus’ command, but Peter was not satisfied with that. He didn’t trust that Jesus would meet them.

God has given each one of us a command and purpose too. Sometimes it may seem like we aren’t doing anything. Like the disciples, we’re in the boat together, but there’s not much going on. We wonder if we are making a difference. We don’t see any progress. We want to do something bigger, something that will make a huge impact on the world and we fail to see that we are right where God wants us to be. He didn’t ask Peter or any of the disciples to walk on the water. He asked them to get in the boat and go where he sent them. He asked them to stay the course, no matter how mundane it may seem or how difficult it may be.

A Vietnamese monk, peace activist, poet and writer named Thich Nhat Hahn wrote that “The miracle is not to walk on water but on the earth.” That’s a real miracle at times isn’t it. It’s hard to walk on the earth, sometimes it seems almost impossible. We have to go where we may not want to go. We get a diagnosis that shatters our hopes.
We’re faced with a decision that leaves us feeling torn apart. Illnesses, pain, anxieties batter us like the waves of the ocean and we are thrown deep into a sea of depression, drowning and crying out to God for help. We look at the winds of change and we are frightened. We are terrified at what we see. Is this God walking toward us to aid us in our distress or is it an illusion only to leave us alone.

It is the faithful and merciful God who walks toward us. Who walks on top of the chaos of life, who rules over the turbulent waters and the troubled earth. We need not fear. It is the Great I AM who saw a suffering world and filled with compassion reached out from heaven and sent a Savior wrapped in swaddling clothes to live among us and bring us hope. It is the Great I AM who hung on cross to save us from death itself and redeem our souls.  It is the Great I AM who rose from the dead and is alive – walking with us, abiding in us, stirring up the Holy Spirit to intercede with sighs too deep for words when our words are gone. It is the Great I Am who reaches out in love to grasp us from whatever is holding us down.

We do not have to walk on water. It is enough to walk on the earth. It is the Great I AM who reaches out with love and grace and brings us safely to the other side. Just hold on, pray, and be not afraid. Amen.

A tiny seed, a bit of yeast, a grain of sand….What do these three things have in common? Apparently, they reveal to us something about the kingdom of heaven, at least from Jesus’ point of view. “The kingdom of heaven is near.” This is what we hear Jesus say frequently in the gospel of Matthew.  But for the disciples and those listening to Jesus, they had a hard time understanding what he was talking about. They couldn’t figure out where. Where is the kingdom? They were looking for a kingdom far different than Jesus was talking about.

And so Jesus spoke in parables – short stories – to explain what he was talking about. He gave them visual aids through his descriptive stories – stories about seeds, and planting, and soil. Stories that they could relate to, but they – like us – didn’t always understand, even when he told parables. So as the disciples and the crowds gathered under the hot Middle Eastern sun, much like the heat we are experiencing lately only drier, he tried again to explain about the kingdom of heaven.

In today’s gospel we hear five new comparisons. The kingdom of heaven is like: a mustard seed, yeast, a hidden treasure buried in a field, a merchant searching for a priceless pearl and a net thrown into the sea to catch fish of every kind. It’s an odd combination of stories because they don’t seem to have anything in common. These parables seem to leave us more confused than before. Some of this is due to the context in which Jesus told these stories.

For example, yeast to us comes in a small neat package that when added to flour and water activates the mixture to rise and form bread. But for the people hearing this story in Jesus’ time, yeast was very different. Yeast – or leaven as it was called back then – was a small portion of bread set aside to spoil. Then a small piece of this was added to the batter to make it rise. If the leaven was not spoiled enough it would not cause the batter to rise and if it was too spoiled it would not only ruin the bread but it could turn poisonous and be fatal. It was considered “unclean” and leaven would be cleaned from the house during Passover where only unleavened bread was eaten. So only a small piece of leaven or yeast was needed to produce nourishing bread – a tiny portion, just like the mustard seed.

The tiny mustard seed grows to over 10 feet high, sometimes almost 15 feet! High enough Jesus said for “the birds of the air to make nest in its branches.” Again, for the people in Jesus’ time this mustard seed that was said to grow like a tree had a very different meaning than it does for us today. You see, a mustard seed grows more like a shrub and actually is …well, a weed, a weed that no respecting farmer would want in his or her garden. They wouldn’t intentionally plant it because it would take over everything! It would grow so tall that it would overrun the rest of the crop. So if the tiny mustard seeds go into the garden and grow, they would be pulled out right away. But Jesus talks about someone deliberately planting these mustard seeds – these mustard weeds. Why would anyone do such a thing?
The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard weed…it doesn’t make any sense.

And then Jesus continues with his parables. The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure that is hidden in a field or a priceless pearl, both of which people sell all they have to own. And the kingdom is compared to a net that catches all kinds of fish – good and bad. Where is Jesus going with all of this? He gives us quite a lot of different images to explain what the kingdom of heaven is like, but how do you explain something as important and magnificent and divine as that? A seed, a piece of yeast, a grain of sand – so small – so seemingly insignificant. These are odd images and hardly ones that I’d use to explain something so unfathomable as the kingdom of heaven.

So why does Jesus use these odd and ordinary things to explain God’s kingdom? Perhaps because it is the odd and ordinary that make up such a kingdom. The tiny mustard seed grows into a massive weed that overtakes the garden just like God’s kingdom will spread to the ends of the earth – not from extraordinary perfect people, but from ordinary imperfect weeds. Christianity didn’t start by a massive invasion. It began with a group of 12 men – ordinary common fishermen, tax collectors and people who were considered rejects to society much like the mustard weed. And god still uses the weeds of society today  – the poor, the needy, the homeless, the addicted the abandoned, the rejected – to grow the kingdom of heaven. God plants the kingdom of heaven with weeds such as these.

God uses the spoils of society to grow the kingdom. Just like the spoiled leaven or yeast that the woman in the parable today used to make bread. In fact, she used three measures of flour with only one small piece of yeast and three measures would be enough to feed a multitude. A spoiled piece of bread produced life nourishing bread.

Sometimes it feels like our life is ruined. Our dreams have gone stale. Our hopes are rotting and we feel as useless as a moldy piece of bread. But that piece of moldy bread is not useless. We have been set aside by God to grow the kingdom. It is the spoils of our life that produce our capacity for compassion, for understanding, for patience and for love. God is hidden in the spoiled places of our lives.

The struggles, hardships and irritations that cause us pain are the very substances that produce the greatest treasures, just like the priceless pearl. A pearl is formed when a small piece of sand irritates the inside of a clamshell. The clam produces substances to deal with the irritation and this wrestling produces the pearl. When we prayerfully wrestle with the irritations in our lives, pearls of wisdom are formed. Blessings are born.

So what do a tiny seed, a small piece of yeast and a grain of sand have in common? Though they are small, they have the capacity to produce greatness – greatness hidden in adversity. We may see a weed, but God sees a tree of life. We may see a rotting piece of yeast, but God sees bread for the world. We may see a life shattered and broken, but God sees a vessel of grace. We may see a homeless bum on the street, but God sees a precious child of God. We may see an addict, but God sees a life of promise. We may see a handicap, but God sees a channel for prayer. We may see a tiny baby in a dirty manger, but God sees the Hope of humanity. We may see an innocent man hanging on a cross as failure, but God sees a Savior redeeming the world, bringing forth the kingdom of heaven.

The kingdom of heaven is near. It is as near as a tiny seed. It is as near as a piece of yeast. It is as near as a grain of sand. The kingdom of heaven is here among us in the risen Christ, the Word made flesh. In Christ, the Divine has been revealed. The kingdom of heaven is as close as the breath of the Spirit that lives within each one of us. Amen.

“He who welcomes you welcomes me. And he who welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me.”  Jesus not only was speaking to his disciples when he said these words, he was speaking to all of us as well. It’s easy to be welcoming to people who are like us and can give us back something in return. It’s not so easy when there is a risk involved. When they are different or can potentially harm us or even worse, harm our reputation. I’d like to share with you a tale of a local church who found out what Jesus really meant by hospitality.

 One cold Saturday in late February, the members of a local congregation decided to host a masquerade party. It would be a boost to their spirits during that time of year when the holidays were over and spring just couldn’t arrive soon enough. So the plans began and everyone in the congregation was on board. They got so caught up in the excitement that they even put an ad in the local paper. They thought, hey, who knows who might show up and they may even get more members to join the church. After all, Jesus did say to go and make disciples of all nations and increasing church membership was a way they felt they could measure that.

 The mood of the church really changed during the weeks that they planned this party. The older members weren’t as agitated by the young folks who had such different ideas and different tastes in music. In fact, they even agreed to play a variety of music at the party so that everyone could hear something they like.

 They had to keep a close eye on the finances though so as not to go over budget. So they thought of creative ways to keep the costs down. Everyone chipped in and organized a spectacular pot-luck. The more they planned this party, the more their morale improved despite the cold dark winter.

 They needed this party. They were tired. The church really took social ministry very seriously. They prepared meals for the homeless, visited the sick, had an active prison ministry, and even helped with building projects in the community. They wanted to show God’s love to others and although they didn’t brag, they felt they were doing a pretty good job at that.

 The night of the masquerade party – Winterfest they called it – had arrived. The turn-out was even bigger than they had anticipated. Everyone enjoyed the music, food, fellowship, and the costumes. That was the biggest delight. Colorful costumes and creative masks helped this large crowd celebrate life. They felt blessed and they shared stories with one another and were inspired. Now one of the rules of the masquerade party was that they weren’t supposed to let anyone know who they were. Of course, they could probably figure that out from the voice and the conversation. But the surprising thing was that they were hearing stories they hadn’t heard before. Someone told how they were struggling financially, but didn’t want to let anyone know. Another said they lost their job and felt embarrassed to say anything. What would people think of them? And some others said they were a new family in the community and this was a great way to make a connection.
One by one the stories kept flowing and as people learned more about one another than ever before they felt closer to each other and to God who was speaking through each and every person.

 At the end of the night, as the music finished, a lone voice spoke up and said he had never felt so welcomed and loved. He had always felt so isolated. A couple other voices expressed similar gratitude and as they did tears began to fall down their faces. They had to take off their masks to wipe away the tears. That is when the shock hit the members of the congregation in the room.

 One by one more masks were removed to reveal the faces of people they had never seen or should I say welcomed. There was the homeless man who had looked so frightening to them before. There was the teenager with the crazy hair and piercings that had previously shown up as a visitor one Sunday but never came back because she felt unwelcomed from the stares. There was the foreign family who immigrated here to escape religious persecution in their own country only to receive a new kind of isolation – not even a hello at the grocery store, not to mention being asked to come to church even if it was to get to know about their religion. The older woman who had a mental illness and was too much of a distraction to others whenever she stopped in as a visitor and the three gruff individuals who rode up one afternoon on their motorcycles looking for a place to worship and were greeted only with condemning stares. Yes, they were all there. Their masks were off and their truth was exposed. So was the truth of the congregation.

 These people who had enriched their lives during the party- laughed with them, ate with them – were the same people who they had rejected because they were too different or seemed like a potential threat. Instead of welcoming them, they gave them strange glances or even worse had not looked at them at all. But now, now they could see them for who they really were and could see themselves for who they were. They were not the welcoming church community they thought they were. They didn’t even know the stories of members of their own congregation!

 The words of Matthew’s gospel took on a whole new meaning that night. “He who welcomes you welcomes me….” They hadn’t welcomed Jesus. By shutting out these wonderful people, they had shut Him out too. They had been reaching out only to those they felt comfortable reaching out to and in the process they had missed out on receiving the grace these strangers possessed. God was working through them too only they hadn’t seen it.

 What made these strangers accept the invitation after they had previously been rejected from the church? Everyone in that room that night knew it was the prompting of the Holy Spirit – the same Spirit that unites us all as children of God. All of us. In the sight of God we are all one family. And behind the masks we all wear, lies the face of God. And we welcome Christ and the one who sent him “Whenever we give even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones.” Amen

Cleopas and his friend were heading north – about 7 miles northwest of Jerusalem to be exact – to the small insignificant town of Emmaus. Emmaus was known as the place of warm springs or hot baths. Maybe they could soak their troubles away. It was the 3^rd day after the horrible crucifixion and they were filled with sadness and disappointment. Why did Jesus have to die? As they walked that dusty, stony parched road, that’s all they could talk about.

Why? Why did this have to happen? They asked each other. What are we going to do now? It doesn’t make any sense, especially today. Those women are delirious! Said one of them. I mean, I’d love nothing more than to believe Jesus is alive too. But, the tomb is empty? Empty? Where is Jesus’ body? And angels? Angels, Cleopas? Really? Don’t you think if Jesus was alive we’d see Him? I can’t take any more of this Cleopas! I just can’t take any more! Do you see Jesus?

And so they continued on their walk, feeling depressed and hopeless because things had not worked out according to their plans. But now someone joins them on their walk and asks why they are so upset. Really? They exclaim. Have you been in a cave or something that you don’t know what’s happened? (Well, actually he has been in a cave, but they didn’t recognize who they were talking to.) So Cleopas and his friend tell this apparent stranger all about Jesus’ arrest and crucifixion and about the empty tomb. They tell their story. And then the stranger tells them His story. He tells them why it was necessary for all these things to happen. It was necessary because God loved the world so much that God was not going to let sin and death destroy all people. Jesus died on the cross so all people could have eternal life. And while Jesus is talking to them they are captivated. The Scriptures come alive and they come alive. Their hearts are “on fire” with excitement and they don’t want it to end.

Haven’t you ever been in the company of a great story-teller? Someone who is so engaging that you cling to every word? I have and I was so captivated that I lost track of time. Or maybe it’s a movie that’s drawn you in and you’re on the edge of your seat. You planned to watch a few minutes and before you know it you’ve watched the whole movie because you just can’t tear yourself away. That’s the way it was with Cleopas and his friend. They were drawn in to the greatest story ever told and they had no idea what was happening. They were on the road to Emmaus trying to get away from their pain. All they could see were their troubles. They were trying to find some comfort, but Comfort found them – only they couldn’t see Him.

And here we are, the third Sunday after Easter and we’re walking our own road to Emmaus. Maybe we’re not headed toward an insignificant village on a dusty, stony road, but perhaps we’re trying to get away from our own kind of pain. We too have heard that the tomb is empty, but so are many of our hearts. We’re still dealing with illness, disease, broken marriages, poverty and death. The tomb is empty but so are the tables of many who have nothing to eat, or nowhere to live, or no one to call them friend. Maybe our hearts are burning, but they’re burning with anger or hatred or hunger. What kind of hunger? Is it a hunger for justice or a hunger for revenge? Is it a hunger for Jesus or a hunger for something else to satisfy our deepest desires? No one can satisfy our hunger but Jesus. Nothing can fill the void but God.

So how do we see Jesus through all of this suffering? Where is God in the midst of this turmoil and pain? If the tomb is empty, where – like the question of Cleopas and his friend – is Jesus? He’s right beside us only we don’t always recognize Him either. We too are lost in our own pain and inner dialogues that we can’t see who it is talking to us.  We can’t hear God speaking to us because we don’t always want to hear what God is saying. We want God to make life easier even though God never promised us that life would be easy. What God has promised is that God will always be with us. And God is faithful to those promises.

 There are many ways in which God comes to us and often it is through other people. Jesus comes to us on our journeys as well. We don’t have to go crazy looking for Him, He is right here with us. So often when I find myself feeling lost or alone Jesus walks up next to me by an unexpected phone call from a friend. Sometimes it’s an email, or a card in the mail, or a cashier at the store who is particularly helpful, or a smile from a stranger. Who knows how much gospel is exchanged between smiles. And sometimes it’s in the beauty of a song, or a poem, or laugher, or the open arms of a hug when there’s nothing words can say. God uses the ordinary to reveal the Divine.

The two on the road to Emmaus that day recognized Jesus in the breaking of the bread and that is where we can find Him too. He is most present in the breaking of the bread. We come on Sunday mornings not to remember the Lord’s Supper, but to participate in it. Communion is not just ordinary bread and wine. It is significant. It is the true presence of Jesus Christ who suffered and died and rose for each one of us. When we hear the words The Body of Christ given for you and the Blood of Christ shed for you, they aren’t just words. Jesus is here. He is alive.

 I’ll never forget one Sunday when a couple and their young son who were originally from India came to our church and when it was time for Communion they walked up to the front with no shoes. The next few Sundays I continued to pay attention and every time before they went up for Communion they took off their shoes. I was moved, because like Moses when he encountered God in the burning bush, they were acknowledging that this was Holy Ground. They recognized that Jesus was truly present in the bread and the wine. And every time we receive the bread and wine in Communion we are in the presence of the living God. Are our hearts not on fire too?

 We don’t have to look for Jesus; Jesus comes to us. And because His Spirit dwells within us we can be that comfort to one another. We can be Christ for others. No one has to walk the difficult roads of life alone. Reach out and pray for one another. Share a word of hope and comfort. Step out of your comfort zone and get to know someone who is different from you and feels hopeless. Forgive one another and pray that your enemies will become friends. Turn around. Do you see Jesus?

What’s shocking in today’s Gospel is that when Jesus is about to perform one of the greatest miracles in the New Testament, Martha says to Jesus…wait…hold on….

 Isn’t that what Martha and Mary were initially upset about? When Jesus heard of Lazarus’ illness, he waited two extra days to get back to them. They agreed he could have prevented Lazarus’ death – not that they were angry with him according to the text – but let’s face it, I’m sure they were a little angry. Wouldn’t any of us be angry? Jesus, who had performed many miracles up to this point, could have done something. So why stop him now, when he is about to do something?

 Martha and Mary were not the only ones in the story trying to stop Jesus. Up to this point, the Pharisees and Jewish leaders were trying to stop Jesus. His teachings were too radical. It was too much to handle. They felt it was blasphemy for Jesus to say “I am the Son of God.” or “I and the Father are one.” In their eyes Jesus had to be stopped.

 In today’s Gospel, when Jesus tells his disciples he is finally going to go to Bethany where Martha and Mary are because Lazarus has died, they too, try to prevent him from going. What a minute! Hold on! You are heading right back to Jerusalem where the Jewish leaders are trying to have you arrested and killed! Don’t go! Think this through! It’s too dangerous! But Jesus had to go.

 When Jesus arrives on the scene where Martha and Mary are – there is a crowd of mourners – which at that time was not uncustomary to be publicly mourning for some time. Everyone is weeping. They are overcome with grief and we see a side of Jesus that we have not seen before. The Son of God is weeping. We don’t know exactly why he is weeping. The original word in Greek indicates a sense of strong emotion, perhaps even anger. What could Jesus possibly be angry or disturbed about? Some suggest it is because they are mourning excessively as those with no hope? Didn’t they get it by now as to who he was? Is he grieving the loss of his dear friend Lazarus too or weeping in empathy with Martha and Mary? Is it that he is overcome by the nearness of his own impending death? I think he’s weeping for all these reasons and more. In times of great trauma, the depth of emotions is overwhelming to any of us. Jesus is not excluded from this. And it is comforting today to know that Jesus is truly present, experiencing and feeling our pain right along with us.

 But then, at the tomb of Lazarus, Jesus prays, and he is ready to act. When again, he is told to wait. Hold on, Martha says. “Jesus, there’s a stench. Lazarus has been dead for four days.” In other words, don’t open that cave, that tomb! He is decomposing, rotting. You open that tomb and it’s going to let all that horrible smell out and make us all unclean! Jewish customs were very strict on laws of cleanliness and being in contact with death was not a good thing at all. He’s dead. What’s done is done. What’s the point.

 Can we really blame her here? I mean, who wants to smell something rotting, especially a human corpse? We try to avoid foul smelling odors as much as possible and that’s not a bad thing. For years, my parents ate blue cheese and as much as I love cheese, that stench was just too much for me to handle. Sure, they told me it was good for you, but no way was I going to eat cheese that according to research was injected with mold and in some cases grown in dark temperature controlled caves. And that’s just cheese. There was something even worse growing in Lazarus’ cave. So, no, I can’t blame Martha at all for saying what she did to Jesus. Hold on…think this through. Do you really want to open that cave?

 But the truth is, Jesus did think this through. He deliberately waited to arrive back in Bethany until after Lazarus was dead for four days so that God’s glory could be revealed. Jesus knew exactly what he was doing. It was Martha, and Mary who didn’t have a clue what Jesus was up to. And, it’s all of us who don’t have a clue what Jesus is up to today. We want to tell Jesus what to do. We want to tell God how our glory should be revealed, not his. We want God to act in our time, in our way, and according to our plans. We don’t want to wait and we want fairness – according to our standards. It’s not fair when bad things happen to good people. It’s not fair that Lazarus, who loved Jesus, had to get sick and die. It’s not fair when people today get sick and sometimes die  tragic deaths. It’s not fair when people lose their jobs, their homes, their minds. It’s not fair, according to our standards. It doesn’t make any sense. There’s too much suffering in the world and we want God to fix it all and more importantly to prevent it, just like Jesus could have prevented the death of Lazarus. But by doing this, are we getting in the way of allowing God’s glory to be revealed? Because even though God does not always cause suffering, he can always bring good out of what was meant for evil, even if it doesn’t make sense to us at the time.

 The point of the Gospel today is that while we are busy asking God to do something about all of our problems we are forgetting two very important things. The first – and most important – is that God has already done something about all our pain and suffering. Jesus’ death on the cross has released us from the bondage of sin and death. The words spoken by Jesus to Martha are the same words spoken to us today. “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” He’s not just speaking to Martha.

This leads to the second point. If we truly believe this, why are we getting in the way of the tomb? Why like Martha are we saying, don’t make us open it up. Don’t make us open up the things we have hidden away in the dark corners of our life. It’s dark in there. There’s something rotting in there. Whatever is in there is too far gone for you to do anything about. But, Jesus answers no! No, you’re not too far gone. No one is too far gone. No matter how dark and smelly and rotten and decomposed your life is, I can breathe new life into it. I can make you come alive again! I will call you out of your lives of darkness and into a life of light with me, the Light of the world!

 And Lazarus came out, his hands and his feet bound and his face wrapped and Jesus said to those standing near, “Unbind him, and let him go.” Jesus breathes new life into us today and because he has unbound us we can’t be afraid to bring God’s word of hope to others who are trapped in darkness. We need to unbind those who are trapped in the stench of despair, the stench of poverty, the stench of addictions,  the stench of homelessness, the stench of isolation because they are different from us. We are called forth to unbind others with the Good News of hope and the promise that God is with us even in those times when all seems hopeless. Let us not stand in the way of God’s glory. It is time to unbind each other with the Gospel of hope and life.   Amen.

Who do you think you are? Have those words ever been spoken to you? Were they said in jest or were they said in an insulting way to inflict pain? Words have power and words can either give life or wound your soul.

 The woman in today’s Gospel lesson experienced both. I can imagine her walking the long road to the well for water. Who do you think you are? These words echoed in her mind over and over on the long walk in the hot noonday sun. She had to go at noon instead of in the coolness of the early morning because most people wouldn’t associate with her. She was a woman, who in those days was not much higher in status than a dog. She was an outsider, a Samaritan, one of those people, the enemy. She was a sinner. She had been married five times and the person she was with now was not her husband. Everyone assumed she was immoral, people gossiped just like they do today. But did they bother to ask why she had been married five times? Did it even cross their minds to find out if she had been widowed or trapped in a Levirate marriage – that law that forced her to marry her dead husband’s brother in order to survive? No, no one cared about the circumstances. No one cared about who she was. She was just labeled immoral and someone to be shunned. Stay away from the likes of her.

So she walked, alone, without friends, without hope. Day after day she walked to the well alone, perhaps several times a day to get the water she needed. She felt more thirsty when she left the well than when she arrived. Sure, the water was cool, but it was a heavy load to carry. But it wasn’t just water she needed or was burdened with. She thirsted for more. She wanted to be understood, to be heard, to be seen, to be loved. Loved? With tears streaming down her face she said, Who do you think you are? You are a nobody.

But today, today was different. There was a man at the well. Now, in those days a man did sometimes wait at the well for a woman. This, after all, was Jacob’s well. It was here that Jacob met his wife Rachel. Who could forget that beautiful love story? But this woman knew that wasn’t the case for her. She had been through one bad situation after another and was trapped in hopelessness. And no one cared to take the time to really find out who she was.

 But, who was this man who was sitting next to the well? And why did it look like he was waiting for her? As she reached the well, she got a closer look at him. He was a Jew! She started to back away when all of a sudden he said, “Would you give me a drink of water?” Would I give you a drink of water? She responded. You’re a Jew! Do you see me? I’m a woman, a Samaritan woman, an outsider. We are enemies! You want a drink of water from me? You’ll be breaking every Jewish law in the book? Do you know how unclean you’ll be labeled if you are even seen talking alone with me, let alone drinking out of the same cup? Are you crazy? Who do you think you are?

 I AM. You are……? I AM the one you are thirsting for? I AM. Her mind immediately thought of the words spoken to Moses on the mountain from the burning bush. But God was the only one who could make such a claim! Sure, as they continued to talk, this man knew about her past husbands, about her life, but…he didn’t pass judgment on her. He didn’t look at her with contempt. In fact, he looked at her with compassion. Was he a prophet? She pressed him even further with more questions. She wanted to know who he was. Where was the proper place to worship? Was it Jerusalem or Mt. Gerizim as the Samaritans thought? Where is God to be found? He replied again. I AM where God is found. I AM the one who will give you living water, eternal life. Could this be true? Could this really be God who was willing to give this life to her, who knew her deepest fears and yet loved her anyway? Her eyes turned and gazed deeply into the well as she took it all in.

Haven’t we all been at the well at one point or another in our lives? Haven’t we too stared into the darkness of the well, the darkness of our souls and asked the same question? Who do you think you are? Have you felt misunderstood and have the voices echoed back from the darkness, you don’t matter. God can’t love you the way you are. You aren’t good enough. You’ve made too many mistakes. You’re poor or sick or afraid because you deserve all this pain. You’re a sinner. You don’t make a difference at all. Who do you think you are?

 Or maybe we’ve thought these words about others or even spoken them out loud. Who do you think you are to move into my neighborhood? You’ll devalue the property. You wouldn’t be homeless if you just worked hard enough. You can’t sit next to me at work, or school, or even church because you don’t think or look or act like us. You can’t be my friend because everyone knows your kind, are terrorists. Are we the ones who accusingly think or say “Who do you think you are?”

 Like the story of the woman in today’s Gospel story, Jesus is waiting at the well for each one of us. He deliberately comes to meet us where we are. He wants to be in relationship with us and transform us. He knows our past. He knows our pain. He knows what we are thirsty for and Jesus is ready and willing to give us His life that will nourish us. He wants to give us a love that will never run out. Jesus is ready to answer that question of “who do you think you are?” We are beloved children of God.

 And like the woman at the well, we too are transformed and eager to share his love with others when we engage with Jesus honestly. Prayer, a dialogue with God, changes us and fills us with compassion for one another, no matter how different they are from us, and even for ourselves. No one is outside of the love of God. God’s love and grace are bigger than any cultural boundaries or differences. God’s grace is deeper than our pain. God’s grace is more nourishing than anything we can find on earth. We need not fear, for God’s love is bigger than our past and God’s love holds our future. God’s living Word is the Word of life.

 Come to the table of God’s love and mercy today. Be nourished with God’s amazing grace and with the deepest love that never runs out. Amen

I decided to reveal my frustrations to someone I barely knew, but whose wise spiritual counsel I sensed I could trust. He listened, shared his advice and experiences, and prayed with me. That is where the transformation happened. As we joined hands in prayer, God’s presence was revealed. At the end of the prayer we sat in silence, still holding hands because the prayer was not finished. It was God’s turn to talk. As the pastor’s clasp grew increasing tighter in mine, it felt as if they were no longer his hands, but God’s hands. The tighter the grip became, the more I could hear God saying “Hold onto me as tight as you have to; I won’t ever leave you. Don’t be afraid. I’m right here.” Every time I feel afraid, I picture and feel God’s hands in mine and I am filled with peace and confidence – not my own abilities, but in God’s. God worked through that pastor that day to speak to me.

God works through each of us in the same way. Our actions don’t have to be big and we may not even realize that God is using us at a particular moment, but that may very well be the case. A friend recently knew I needed chairs for my apartment, so he continued to look out for stray chairs for me, often taking the time to fix them so they would be usable. He didn’t have to take the time to do that, but in doing so, he was carrying out God’s work and showing me not only that he cared for my needs, but that more importantly God cared.

The tag line for the ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America) is God’s Work, Our Hands. What this means is that God’s work is carried out by us. We are the means by which God’s message is revealed. Jesus walked this earth over 2000 years ago, preaching, teaching, and healing, but his mission continues through us today. Jesus said, “Truly, I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.” (Matthew 25:40) He was referring to clothing the naked, feeding the hungry, visiting the imprisoned…caring for one another. Whenever we care for someone else, we care for Christ and He in turn is revealed through us. As Christians we are called to carry out the work of Christ each and every day.

Mother Theresa said that we show Christ “not in big things, but in small things done with great love.” The small things we do may, in fact, be big things to someone else and the collective small things add up to form something big. What each of us does has a ripple effect that goes far beyond what we can see. A drop of water in a glass does not fill it, but a multitude of drops fills it to overflowing. The small acts of compassion we show to one are the very substance of what fills someone’s cup to overflowing.

When you sit and really listen to someone rather than just brushing them off, when you stop in the hallway to talk to your neighbor rather than quickly walking into your apartment, when you send someone a quick email just to say you are thinking of them and praying for them, or share a meal with someone, you are doing God’s work.  You are spreading the Gospel in a personal way and bringing God’s message of love and grace to that person. Your seemingly small actions may be the very way that God speaks to someone. That handshake, that touch of compassion may very well be a direct lifeline straight to God. Make a space for grace and let God’s work be done -through your hands today.