Pilgrim Preaching

No Fear

Fourth Sunday of Easter
Psalm 23
John 10:22-30

I'm preaching Sunday on the 23rd Psalm and John 10 at the Baccalaureate service for Concordia College's graduation weekend. I have thought all week that I would (a) get the sermon done and then (b) write a weblog entry. The sermon gets higher priority since I have to actually be present and looking at people when the sermon is encountered, as opposed to being able to hunker down behind the keyboard after the blog is updated. Alas, the sermon is not yet done (Fri. at 10:00 p.m.) and I'm about to leave internet access for the weekend. So there's no weblog entry, except for this one.

Here's the idea I'm working on: Jesus is always getting in so much trouble. Even this gospel reading, a text with all sorts of good news in it for his followers ("my sheep hear my voice") is edgy. Following him means pasture, rest, and also .... well... living with the results of this edge in his voice and his actions. Can't he lighten up just a little on the speaking truth to power stuff? Apparently not.

I want to talk about why Jesus is not going through his life scared (he knows the Father can be trusted: "you spread a table before me in the presence of my enemies") and why following him means we need not go through our lives scared either ("No one will snatch them out of my hand.") What might you be able to do if you were convinced that no one could snatch you out of Christ's hand?

Grace Upon Grace

3 Easter C
April 24, 2004
John 21:1-19

It is common to compare the great catch of fish in John 21 to the story of a similar catch early in Jesus' ministry according to Luke 5:1-11. Peter plays a central role in each. In Luke, the great catch accompanies the call of the first disciples. When Peter witnesses it—and the power of God available to Jesus that it implies—he is struck by his sinfulness and says to Jesus, "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man." In John, the great catch accompanies Jesus' call to Peter to live out the love that he has for Jesus ("Do you love me?... Feed my sheep."). That call is issued three times, paralleling the three times that Peter had earlier denied even knowing Jesus, let alone loving him.

Whatever the connections between Luke and John here, thanks to Gail O'Day's insightful commentary on John, I was reminded of another companion text to the last miracle of Jesus in John's gospel. It is the first miracle of Jesus in John's gospel, namely the changing of water into wine at the wedding at Cana (John 2).

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"The abundant catch of fish and the breakfast on the beach both suggest that Jesus' gifts continue even after the events of 'his hour.' This story is a narrative testimony to the truth of the community's testimony in 1:16: 'From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.' The vast quantity of fish in the disciples' net and the gracious meal of bread and fish show that God's gift is available in the risen Jesus just as it was in the incarnate Jesus. Just as Jesus' ministry was inaugurated with a miracle of unprecedented abundance (2:1-11), so, too, is the church's ministry. John 21:1-14 is thus a story of celebration for the post-resurrection community, because it demonstrates for the community that its life is grounded in an experience of God's fullness and unprecedented, unexpected gift." —Gail R. O'Day, "John," New Interpreter's Bible 9:864 (Nashville: Abingdon, 1996).

One gets the sense from that catch of fish, and then the invitation from Jesus to come and have breakfast, that the resurrected Lord has more and more gifts he wants to give his followers. Jesus quite literally feeds a few of his sheep, the fishing disciples, and then he provides for his other sheep by reminding Peter that love for Christ is shown in a life that shares God's overabundance of grace with others.

Doing Revelation

3 Easter C
April 24, 2004
Rev. 5:11-14

If you are preaching the Revelation text this Sunday, consider singing LBW hymn 525, "Blessing and Honor." (Here's the tune from the LBW Online Hymnal.) It's a way of "doing Revelation," as colleague Craig Koester puts it. When we sing the Hymn of Praise in the Holy Communion liturgy or a hymn like this one, we are in the place of all those gathered around the throne, and we are joining their new song (cf. Rev. 5:9). Since it seems to be my day to quote favorite praise lines, here is another one: "Ever ascending the song and the joy, Ever descending the love from on high; Blessing and honor and glory and praise— This is the theme of the hymns that we raise. This is the theme of the hymns that we raise" (verse 3, "Blessing and Honor").

Mourning into Dancing

3 Easter C
April 24, 2004
Psalm 30

I love the LBW translation of Psalm 30. "Weeping may spend the night, but joy comes in the morning" (v. 6) and "While I felt secure, I said 'I shall never be disturbed. You, Lord, with your favor, made me as strong as the mountains.' Then you hid your face, and I was filled with fear" (vv. 7-8).

I like this psalm so much because it gets at the back-and-forth nature of our lives with respect to whether God is paying attention or not. It begins with praise (vv 1-3), moves to an exhortation of praise from others (vv. 4-7), 'fesses up a misconception that God's favor made the psalmist immune to trouble, then recounts the cry for help, along with the reasonable reminder to God that dust, should the psalmist come to that, is not so good at declaring praise. Finally the psalmist says to God, "You have turned my wailing into dancing." Woohoo!

I don't usually preach psalms, but it might make an interesting sermon to mark each of these moves as a possible place where congregants are living on any particular Sunday morning. There is a good story here of the psalmist's ups and downs and of God's steady (if not always noticeable) presence in the midst of all that danger. Whatever people are feeling—praise, thanksgiving, fear, grief, security, the need to pull out all the stops in pleading—wherever people are at with God, this psalm has a verse that reflects something for them.

Textweek Blog

Host and compiler of The Text this Week (a. k. a. textweek.com) Jenee Woodard sent me news of her new blog a month ago. She keeps up with lots of web postings and resources on topics and texts of interest to preachers and others. Check out the blog at http://textweek.blogs.com/textweek/

Revelation Texts in Easter

We are seeing several texts from Revelation in Easter. It makes sense from the perspective of Jesus as the first fruits of those who have died and from the perspective of his resurrection as the beginning of a whole new age.

In Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, Annie Dillard writes, "The lone ping into being of the first hydrogen atom ex nihilo was so unthinkably, violently radical that surely it ought to have been enough, more than enough. But look what happens: you open the door and all heaven and hell break loose" ([Bantam Books, 1974] 134).

The same is true of the empty tomb. After Christ is risen, no dream is too big. God opens that tomb and look what happens: it is not just Christ's life but also Mary's life that is restored. And that is just the beginning. God opens the tomb and the Jewish fisherman Peter finds himself saying to the Roman centurion Cornelius and his household, "I truly understand that God show no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him" (Act. 10:34f). God opens that tomb and John of Patmos sees a new heaven and a new earth breaking loose, where death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the former things have passed away" and where the one seated on the throne says, "See, I am making all things new" (Rev. 21:4-5). Before Easter, none of these witnesses to new life would have made sense. After Easter, they begin to.

Thanks to Pam Fickenscher for the news that LSTC's Professor Barbara Rossing will appear on 60 Minutes Wed. Apr. 14 to talk about Revelation, "Left Behind" and such. Link to Pam's comment here.

The Thomas Text

I don't know why the story of Thomas appears every year on the Second Sunday of Easter. It seems like we could get the Road to Emmaus once in a while on that Sunday. I smiled at Michael Stadtmueller's comment that interns always get (or have) to preach this Sunday. Given the repetition of the lectionary here, at least first call preachers will always have a usable sermon in the file for the Second Sunday of Easter.

Here is a short reflection on Thomas that I wrote for the back of the Augsburg bulletins in 2005. It is their copyrighted material, but until they pay me for it (which hasn't happened yet), I'm not going to get in a hurry to disappear it from the blog.

Passion Sunday

Luke's Triumphal (?) Entry

Luke 19:28-40

I am probably a redaction critic at heart, by which I mean that I have the most fun with the scriptures when I am looking at how one author has changed (or edited, or if you like, redacted) another's work. Take, for instance, what we call "the triumphal entry" into Jerusalem. The texts are Matt 21:1-9, Mark 1:-10, Luke 19:28-40 and John 12:12-19. It's pericope #269 if you have an Aland synopsis; if you want to make your own synopsis of the gospels on this or another text, check out The Five Gospel Parallels. With the help of Preaching through the Christian Year C (PCY), here's a short list of things that set Luke's version of the story apart from the way most of us are used to thinking of the story.

1. We have heard Jerusalem mentioned a few times in Luke, most often in connection with Jesus having "set his face" to go there. Now he's there. After his entry into the city, he will weep over it (Luke 19:41ff). This scene, #270 in your synopsis, is unique to Luke.
2. There are no "Hosannas" and no one is trimming palm branches and laying them in Jesus' path. The PCY authors comment, "Because those [displays] belonged commonly to nationalistic demonstration and parades, perhaps Luke wants this event to carry no such implication" (166). In any case, it is a quieter scene than the one I have running through my mind on Palm Sunday.
3. The disciples are the main audience for Jesus' entry, rather than a festival crowd of adoring fans. Matthew and Mark talk about a large crowd in the city for Passover watching this "triumphal entry." John speaks of a crowd, too, who have gathered to see the one who raised Lazarus from the dead. By contrast, Luke says Jesus is received by his disciples (see esp. Luke 19:35-37). This "is not the group, says Luke, that later called for Jesus' crucifixion. To be sure, Jesus' followers did not understand him or the nature of his messiahship, but neither are they persons who sing praise and scream death within the same week" (PCY, 166). (Hmm... there goes at least one sermon I've preached a time or two, not to mention some memorable hymn texts.)
4. Luke makes no reference in this scene to David or Davidic images of the messiah. Maybe this is Luke's intentional soft-pedaling of the political implications of Jesus' ministry ("Really, we're not a threat to the status quo!"), maybe not. Either way, if we think of the triumphal entry and think, "The people turned on Jesus because they wanted a political messiah king and he wasn't one," we have to look somewhere else besides Luke's account of things to conclude that is what people wanted.

Preaching and Redaction Criticism

So, this is interesting stuff. Will it preach? If so, how?

I hesitate in any sermon to say things like, "Luke's Jesus says _____." Or "In Luke, there are no palm branches." The first makes it sound like there are/were four (at least) Jesuses, as if each evangelist had his own personal pet named Jesus. Just "Jesus says _____" is enough. As for pointing out differences in the gospel accounts within a sermon, I have heard this done well a few times, but I try not to make a habit of it. Why? (1) It can make Bible reading into a parlor game. We're playing "Where's Waldo?" by another name ("Where are the palm branches?"). (2) It emphasizes the gospel writers at the expense of their message; we start caring more about Luke than about Jesus and what happened in the text.

So the short answer is, "No, this stuff won't preach," or "Preaching this stuff will make you sound bookish, out of touch and concerned about something besides the 'one thing needful'." However, read on.

I would not try to build a sermon around the insights provided by our redaction critical dive into Luke 19, but I would use them to get the tone of the day right. By "right" I mean that when the text is from Luke's gospel, I would try to have the sermon and service feel subdued yet hopeful, rather than "triumphal" and characterized by "Cameron craziness." (Cameron is the name of Duke's basketball arena.) I would not announce my findings or intentions to people ("Welcome to worship. Today our service will be subdued yet hopeful."). I would just try to craft something like that, and I would know to craft something like that because I had done a little redaction criticism as I studied the Gospel text.

Ain't biblical studies grand?