reallifepastor

Three ideas from the first section of Community and Growth:  “Community as belonging”  (13-18)

(1)  To be human is to long for community.  Our longing for community begins in utero.  The minute we are born, we long for and seek the connection we had with our mothers in the womb.  The family is the first community of which we are a part.  As children, if we feel that we belong to that first community, we will be well-positioned to be part of other communities.  If we don’t feel part of that first family community, the yearning for community/belonging doesn’t go away, it simply gets buried.

(2)  The individualism and competitiveness of Western culture is a significant challenge to building community.  Vanier tells this story.  “Rene Lenoir, in Les Exclus, says that if a prize is offered for the first to answer a question in a group of Canadian Indian children, they all work out the answer together and shout it out at the same time.  They couldn’t bear one to win, leaving the rest as losers.  The winner would be separated from his brothers and sisters, he would have won the prize but lost community,” (16).  Seems impossible to imagine, doesn’t it?

(3)  Belonging to a community is the foundation of doing good in the world.  Of one’s community, one’s “people,” Vanier writes:  “It means that they are mine as I am theirs.  There is a solidarity between us.  What touches them, touches me.  And when I say ‘my people,’ I don’t imply that there are others I reject.  My people is my community, made up of those who know me and carry me.  They are a springboard towards all humanity.  I cannot be a universal brother or sister unless I first love my people,” (17).

Each summer at Pilgrimage (the church I serve), we explore a theme.  This year’s theme is “Growing Deeper into Community.”  We’ve explored the theme of community before, but this time around we’ll go deeper.  We’ll look at how to become more deeply committed to providing comfort to its members and to reaching out to share God’s love with those outside the community.

As I reflect on leading congregants in growing deeper in community, I’ll be reading and blogging about Jean Vanier’s book, Community and Growth.  In 1964, with Fr. Thomas Philippe, Vanier started an intentional community where intellectually disabled adults and persons with able bodies and minds would live together.  They named the community l’Arche, The Ark.  There now are L’Arche communities around the globe.

I’m reading the revised edition of Community and Growth, which was published in 1989.  Far from being dated, everything I’ve read thus far describes very much what I see and sense from church members and others today about the desire to feel connected to a community.

In the Introduction, Vanier writes:  “Today…people are crying out for authentic communities where they can share their lives with others in a common vision, where they can find support and mutual encouragement, where they can give witness to their beliefs and work for greater peace and justice in the world–even if they are also frightened of the demands of community” (3).

People long for the kind of community Vanier describes, but I find increasingly that most folks don’t really know how to create or even participate in the kind of community for which they long.  Vanier:  “Most people seem to believe that creating community is a matter of simply gathering together under the same roof a few people who get on reasonably well together or who are committed to the same ideal.  The result can be disastrous!  Community life isn’t simply created by either spontaneity or laws.  Some precise conditions have to be met if this life is to deepen and grow through all the crises, tensions and ‘good times.’”  Community and Growth invites reflection on some of those conditions.

If you long to grow deeper into one of the communities of which you are part, I invite you to join me in reflecting on Vanier’s book.  If you choose to read the book, as well–all the better!

ALSO:  This week on On Being, Krista Tippett will interview Jean Vanier.  Here’s a link to the interview:  http://www.onbeing.org/program/wisdom-tenderness/234#.VWhez2fJA5t  To learn more about Jean’s important work, visit his website:  http://www.jean-vanier.org/en/home

It’s Pentecost!  That means it’s time to hear the story from Acts 2 about the arrival of the Holy Spirit.  From John’s Gospel, we’ve just heard Jesus tell his disciples about the Paraclete, the one Jesus calls the “Spirit of truth.”  John sets this bit of explanation in the context of Jesus’ last supper with his disciples.  He’s just told them he’ll be going away—he’ll be crucified the next day. To this point, if the disciples were ever confused about something Jesus had said or done, they could go to the source and get clarification from Jesus himself.

But what were they going to do when Jesus was no longer around? Who was going to explain things to them when they got confused (which—based on their track record—would be often)? Not to worry, Jesus says.  When I go, the Paraclete (aka, the Holy Spirit) will reveal things to you.  Things I’ve said in the past that seemed obscure — they will become clear.  When new confusions arise, the Spirit will help you understand.  When the path becomes murky, spend time with the Paraclete, and the way forward will be revealed.

Today’s passage from John’s Gospel prepares us for the Spirit before the fact.  The passage from Acts tells the story of the Spirit’s arrival.  And what a scene it is!

The story begins with the 12 disciples gathered together in a home.  They’ve just finished selecting a replacement for Judas when “suddenly from heaven there comes a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it fills the entire house.  Divided tongues, as of fire, appear among them (get out your lighters or candles),  “Divided tongues, as of fire, appear among them, and a tongue rests on each of them.  All of them are filled with the Holy Spirit and begin to speak in other languages.”

Then all that energy, enthusiasm, and goodwill spill over–like a tidal wave–into the rest of Jerusalem.  Suddenly, people are speaking languages they’ve never spoken before. Suddenly, they can understand people who speak in other languages.  Suddenly, this disparate group of people becomes one, they become — a community.  “All were amazed and perplexed, saying to one another, ‘What does this mean?’”

What does this story mean?  What does it mean for us 21st century folks?  What does it mean for this time when the number of religiously unaffiliated people is skyrocketing?  How is God’s Spirit–the Spirit of Truth–moving in the church and the world today?  What is God’s Spirit trying to reveal to us?

As pastor of a Christian community, I keep trying to discern what the changing religious landscape might mean for us.  As I said a couple weeks ago, I don’t think the Christian church is dying, as some suggest, but I do think we are in a time of tremendous transition.  The church is maturing, it’s growing into something it has never been before.  As we grow into this new reality, as we try to gain clarity on the murky path before us, I think Jesus would tell us what he told those disciples in the first century: spend some time with God’s Spirit and all will become clear.

This past Wednesday, the Spirit sent me on a mission at Songwriting Camp.  Before I tell you about my mission, though, a word about the camp, or should I say Boot Camp?

What is Songwriting Boot Camp?  It’s what happens when 20 people who don’t know any better join a singer-songwriter in the mountains of east Tennessee and write and sing as many songs as they can in three and a half days.  It’s pretty fun–in a grueling-put-me-out-of-my- misery kind of way.  J

Oh, it’s not so bad.  John McCutcheon is the singer-songwriter and the camp is held at the Highlander Center near Knoxville–an area Jimmy Loyless assures me is “God’s Country.”

Highlander is the place where many people were trained in techniques of non-violent resistance during the Civil Rights Movement.  Rosa Parks visited Highlander in August of 1955.  December 1st of that year, Rosa refused to give up her seat to a white man on a bus in Montgomery; December 5^th, the Montgomery bus boycott began.  Most of the music of Civil Rights Movement was incubated at Highlander; it’s the place where “We Shall Overcome” became the anthem of the Movement, largely through the work of Highlander’s Music Director, Guy Carawan.  (Guy died a couple of weeks ago.  His widow, Candie, had supper with us one night.  A real honor.)

So, here was my mission last Wednesday.  I’ll say it was half-inspired by the Holy Spirit and half by desperation. It was Wednesday afternoon and I hadn’t yet started my sermon.  In a rare moment of temporal generosity, John gave us most of Wednesday afternoon off.  We were free to write or co-write a song, visit Highlander’s Library, take a nap, or in my case, interview fellow campers for today’s sermon.

I spent the afternoon tracking down each camper and asking him or her two questions:  What is your religious affiliation, if any?  And, What one thing would you like to say to the Christian Church?  Once word got out about what I was doing, it became harder and harder to find people. Odd.  🙂

One interviewee reminded me that my pool of respondents was rather limited. “Have you counted the Priuses in the parking lot?” J Most of the folks at the camp identified themselves as religiously unaffiliated. Nearly all claimed to be spiritual (we were all musicians, after all).

Want to know what my almost-voluntary respondents had to say to the Christian church? I wrote a song, a talking blues, actually.   (Can’t We All Be Friends?)

Can’t We All Be Friends?

I had some time the other day

so I asked my friends what they would say

to Christians far and Christians near.

The answers they gave were crystal clear:

If you’re going to quote the Bible, read it first.

If you’re going to follow Jesus, be well-versed

In the parts of the Good Book written in red

Get out of the church and out of your head

Follow Pope Francis, love the earth,

Serve the poor for all your worth,

Love your neighbor as yourself

Put your judgments on the shelf.

One young friend was very wise

He stopped and looked me in the eyes.

What he thought I hadn’t a clue

Until he said:  I’ve got a question for you:

Chorus:

Can’t we all be friends?

Can’t we all be friends?

Can’t we all be friends

And help to heal the world?

That friend’s hope was shared by all

That Christians would break down the wall

They’ve built to keep all others out

Here is what I’m talking about:

This idea that God is theirs

And does not hear the heartfelt prayers

Of those who worship differently

My friends all said, This cannot be!

God loves Christians, God loves Jews

Muslims, Buddhists, Sikhs and Druse

God loves folks of every creed

And cares about our every deed.

Are we loving?  Are we kind?

Do we in each person find

That of God, humanity

Then they made this urgent plea   (Chorus)

And so a Christian I will stay

I’ll follow Jesus every day

But after talking with my friends

I’m ready now to make amends

For trying to do things on my own

For thinking God is mine alone

For seldom reaching out to those

Whose faith is different yet whom God knows.

My friends have shown a better way

For healing all earth’s ills today

It isn’t done by choosing sides

But working together, we’ll change the tide.  (Chorus)

Words and Music by Kim Buchanan  (c) 2015

I got some great responses from my fellow campers….so great, that I’m going to continue reflecting on them. But here’s my deepest learning from my research: Regardless of how people responded, something profound happened when we started talking together. Many people appreciated being asked about their spirituality. And I quickly began to wish we had time for longer conversations. I was learning so much about each person!

When I thought about it later, I realized the most religious thing about the interviews wasn’t the responses so much as it was the interviews themselves—simply talking with each other, hearing where each person was coming from, “no matter where they are on their life’s journey”…meeting each other where we were, not trying to change each other, just simply being together and sharing from our depths…it was a holy thing.

…which led me to rethink what went on that first Pentecost. So often, we think of all these people gathered around, the Holy Spirit waiting for the audience to arrive, then whooshing in and stirring everything up, making it possible for people to speak and understand languages they had never known before.

But here’s what I’m starting to wonder…I wonder if the order of events might have gotten reversed. Maybe it wasn’t the Spirit’s appearance that made it possible for people to understand each other; maybe it was people working to understand each other that created space for the Spirit to show up. Maybe they worked so hard to connect with each other, that suddenly, foreigners and strangers became human beings, maybe even friends…and in the midst of their sharing, maybe they began to sense a spiritual presence, to feel connected to something bigger than themselves, something good, universal, and life-giving. Maybe that first Pentecost didn’t just happen; maybe it was people working to connect with each other that created the space where it could happen.

Each evening of Songwriting Camp, we gathered in a circle and sang songs for each other. The last two nights of camp, we convened around a campfire. What is it about a campfire that brings people together? Despite the fact that some of the songs were decidedly irreverent, those campfire sing-arounds were holy…I can’t tell you why. I can only say that in our singing and sharing, we tapped into something much bigger than ourselves, something good and universal and life-giving. Something holy.

At one point Tuesday night, I became distracted by a loud blowing sound. I looked for the source and saw one of the campers blowing on the fire, which was in danger of dying. As Jim blew, the flames flickered and came back to life. Everyone cheered.

I’m probably the only person who saw Jim’s action as a Pentecostal metaphor…and, you lucky ducks, I’m now going to share that metaphor with you. J   I wonder if Pentecost isn’t so much this fantastical event where some otherworldly power swoops in and brings folks together, as it is something that happens when we create space for it. Without Jim’s breath, the fire would have died. Maybe the fire of Pentecost too will die if we don’t offer our breath—our lives—to keep it going. Maybe God’s Spirit counts on us to keep the fire burning, to continue to create spaces where it CAN swoop in and bring folks together and, just maybe, change the world.

In the name of our God, who creates us, redeems us, sustains us, and hopes for our wholeness. Amen.

Kimberleigh Buchanan   © 2015

(Acts 2:1–21   and    John 15:26-27;  16:4b-15)

Last Sunday, we confirmed two teenagers.  A third teen went through the nine-month Confirmation process…and chose not to be confirmed.  Here’s the blessing we offered Miller.

Blessing for Miller (on the day he wasn’t confirmed)

Here at Pilgrimage, we say “No matter who you are, no matter where you are on life’s journey, you are welcome here.”  We take that statement seriously…especially during Confirmation.

Miller has completed Confirmation—and is choosing not to be confirmed.  His reasons for his decision are his own; we don’t need to know them.  All we need to know is that Miller has reached his decision after careful thought…

…which is what Confirmation is all about—it’s about confirming the faith our parents and community have chosen for us.  If we take the Confirmation process seriously, choosing not to be confirmed must be a real option.  In taking that option today, Miller is demonstrating the radical integrity of the Confirmation process here at Pilgrimage.

And so, Miller, we honor you and the decision you’re making today.  We know it has come after careful thought and serious study.  Here’s what we want you to know:  this decision changes nothing about how we feel about you.  We love you.  We hope for your wholeness.  We care about what you choose to do with your life.

And if at any point in the future you decide to be confirmed, we’ll be happy to do that, too.  If you never choose to be confirmed, that’s fine, too.  We’re still going to love you, like, forever!

So, Miller:  Be blessed on your spiritual journey… wherever it might lead.  And know that wherever it does lead, our prayers and love go with you.

Holy One,

We begin life connected—connected to the woman whose body nurtures us, whose heart teaches ours to beat, whose every breath triggers the chemical reactions that spur on the miracle of our human becoming.  From our births we know we need other people to survive.

Sensing the necessity of others for our existence–that without you, I cannot be—our earliest ancestors created families.  From the beginning, those families have come in an intriguing array of shapes and sizes.  The Hebrew and Christian Scriptures offer a sampling:

Hagar and Ishmael, Moses and Pharaoh’s daughter, Naomi and Ruth, David and Jonathan, Mary, Joseph, Jesus, and his siblings, Timothy, Eunice, and Lois.

The ancestors who gave us these stories must have known we’d need them, that we’d need to see that family is a holy thing, no matter who’s a part of it.

Though families are sacred communities, they also are composed of human beings, which means — they are flawed.  Sometimes families nurture; sometimes they wound.  And so, our first prayer today is for the wholeness of all families, no matter their shape, size, or make-up.

Our prayer is this:  May all families love each other a little better today, feel a little less stressed today, have a little more fun today, draw a little closer together today.  And may every single family become holy, healthy, healing, and whole.  Amen.

(My offering at the Cobb County Interfaith Prayer Vigil for Marriage Equality held at Unity North, Marietta, GA, on April 26, 2015.)

Each summer at Pilgrimage, we go rogue–that means we abandon the lectionary, the set list of Scripture readings–and focus on a theme.  One year we focused on community.  Another year–when I was trying to finish my dissertation–we had “The Laity Days of Summer,” where members of the community preached.  Another time I invited you all to choose characters from the Bible for me to preach on.  I know.  What was I thinking!  Melchizedek????

This year’s theme emerged from my reflections on recent events in the community.  The VBS theme this summer is “Seeds of Faith.”  When Janet sent me the Scripture texts for VBS, I saw lots about growing.  Then Wayne began planning the youth mission trip to Koinonia, an intentional farming community in southwest Georgia.  These ideas of growth and community were bouncing around in my head when I attended our Council retreat in February.  In a visioning process, one word kept emerging: deeper.  “We want to go deeper—in learning, spirituality, and service. We want to know each other better.”

As I began thinking about these events–VBS, the Youth mission trip to Koinonia, and the Council retreat–and the ideas that emerged from each:  growth, community, and depth–the theme pretty much wrote itself:  “Growing Deeper into Community.”

Once the theme emerged, I realized how timely it is.  Since I became your pastor in 2001, the way folks do church has changed.  People used to come to worship every week.  Every week!  I know.  That’s just weird, isn’t it?  (By the way—Thanks to all of you who DO come every week!) People used to be eager to join. Now, they’re more reticent to do so.

These trends aren’t just happening in our church; they’re happening in all churches.  And they’re not just happening in all churches; they’re happening across the board in society.  Joining groups, staying committed to groups–that used to be a given in society.  Now?  Now community happens in very different ways; it’s much more fluid.  Human beings are hard-wired for connection, so connections are being made, communities are being formed, but they look very different from the way they looked 50 years ago…or even 10 years ago.

So, many are talking about the demise of the 21st century church.  But like Mark Twain said, rumors of its death are greatly exaggerated.  The church isn’t dying; it’s changing.  And our task as a Christian community of faith is to reflect deeply on these changes and to imagine together how we might re-create the church–re-create this church–so that we still are a vibrant force for sharing God’s love with others and establishing God’s kin-dom here on earth.

So, how do we do that?  How do we recreate church?  How do we adapt to the changing times and remain a vibrant force for sharing God’s love in the world?  Today’s passage from John offers a helpful image to guide us as we try to answer that question this summer.

“I am the true vine, and my Abba is the vine grower who cuts off every branch in me that doesn’t bear fruit, but prunes the fruitful ones to increase their yield.”

Thus begins one of John’s primary metaphors–Jesus as the vine.  As a metaphor, it’s important not to take this bit about pruning literally…like I did in a Bible study back at my Baptist college. When we got to this verse, with great enthusiasm I began listing all the folks the vinegrower (God) wanted to lop out of the community.  Dr. Rowena Strickland, my Bible prof, gently reminded me that John’s vine imagery is a metaphor, and metaphors are invitations to sit with the image and let them unfold in our imaginations….not for making “hit lists.” J

So, what happens when we sit with this pruning metaphor?  Some of you did some actual pruning in the Confession a minute ago. I recently learned that Laurie Spencer is a landscape designer. When planning the Confession, I asked if she might help us with some props.  She found these trees with a collection of both healthy and dead branches in the discard pile at the nursery where she works.

Why were they on the discard pile?  Nobody wants to buy a tree with dead branches on it.  What if the whole thing is diseased and the disease spreads to the rest of the tree?  Then you’ve shelled out good money for something that soon will die.  That’s not a good investment.  So the tree gets shunted off to the discard pile.

Some folks today have mentally placed the 21st century church on the discard pile.  So many dead branches.  What hope is there?  It’s too risky to invest in something that could well die soon.  But here we are with two perfectly good trees.  And look! They’re in bloom! Laurie’s been watering them for us, now we’ve pruned away the dead parts, which means these little trees now have a chance.  Like John says, the vinegrower “prunes the fruitful branches to increase their yield.”  Sometimes, you have to jettison the branches that no longer bear fruit so that the healthy branches have a better chance of growing and thriving.

Several years back I attended a workshop where the leader talked about the four stages of a committee or group’s life.  First, there’s the birthing stage, where everyone is flush with excitement about starting work.  Then there’s the building stage, where structure is provided and the new ministry takes root and thrives.  The third stage is maintenance, where we do the thing because we always have done it; it still bears some fruit, but also might be feeling a little tired. In the fourth stage, the ministry has run its course.  Where there used to be large numbers of people attending, now there are just a few.  Where it used to be “the” group folks wanted to join, now it’s composed of the same people who’ve been doing it for years.

The workshop leader–a pastor himself–encouraged us constantly to assess in our congregations where the energy is…and isn’t.  In those places where the energy isn’t, he encouraged us to ask whether some pruning and TLC might increase fruitfulness, or if it might be time for that ministry to die.

Suddenly, everything made sense.  If we’re pouring tons of energy into a ministry or practice that no longer has energy of its own, it drains the community.  If we pour all our energy and resources into something that doesn’t give any energy back, then the community fritters away vital resources that it could be using to imagine new ministries…or to re-imagine the community to adapt to changing times.

So, a part of our task this summer might be assessing what ministries are thriving in our community and which perhaps have run their course.  Where is the energy these days?  What new ministries might we imagine that will help us better address the changes happening to all Christian communities today?  What other ministries might it be time to let die gently?

And how do we do this assessment process?  How do we decide which branches to prune?  How do we nurture the pruned tree to help it grow to its potential?  I’m glad you asked!  The rest of the passage from John 15 offers good guidance.

“Live on in me, as I do in you.  Just as a branch cannot bear fruit of itself apart from the vine, neither can you bear fruit apart from me.  I am the vine; you are the branches.  Those who live in me and I in them will bear abundant fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing.  Those who don’t live in me are like withered, rejected branches, to be picked up and thrown on the fire and burned.  If you live on in me, and my words live on in you, ask whatever you want and it will be done for you.”

From where does life come?  From where does our energy come?  How we might re-create the church–re-create this church–so that we still are a vibrant force for sharing God’s love with others and establishing God’s kin-dom here on earth?  We abide in the vine; we give ourselves over to the care of the vinegrower.  If we don’t live on in the vine–in Jesus’ teaching and spirit–then we already are dead.  But if we abide, if we live and move and have our being immersed 24/7 in the love of God, the spirit of Jesus, then we will bear much fruit.

Well, that sounds right preacherly!  But what does it look like to “abide” in Jesus?  How do we do that? And what does abiding in Jesus have to do with growing deeper into community?

Those are the questions we’ll be answering together this summer. And what fun we’re going to have doing it! The Summer Theme Planning Team already is hard at work creating experiences that will help us grow deeper together in Jesus. There will be a day at the lake, an ice cream social (to christen our new picnic tables), a new build-it-as-you-go banner, some artsy-craftsy Bible studies, drama, music, landscaping. We’re even going to send our teenagers on a fact-finding mission (trip) to learn about community and report back to us.

In preparation for today, Laurie and I exchanged several emails. In one, she commented on these particular trees.  She wrote: “When a tree is in a pot a long time there is no room for the roots to expand and grow strong.  They go round and round in circles inside the pot, and eventually the tree chokes itself to death.  Roots are their foundation and source of nourishment and need to expand into the earth.  Spreading the word so to speak!  When branches die on top, roots are dying at the foundation.  We cut the dead and dying parts out, plant it to give it sunshine and food from the earth, and we create a tree that can grow strong again.”

So, here’s what I propose.  I propose we plant these trees, nurture them, and watch them grow.  It’s kind of scary, isn’t it?  What if they don’t take?  What if we try and they die anyway?  Legitimate concerns.

But…what if we try and they live?  What if we work at it and they grow stronger?  What if we care for the trees and they blossom every year, and become constant reminders of what it means to grow up and out and deep and together in Jesus?  What if THAT happens?

In the name of our God, who creates us, redeems us, sustains us, and hopes for our wholeness.  Amen.

Kimberleigh Buchanan  ©  2015

Today’s Gospel lesson is Luke’s version of the story we heard last week from John.  John’s version is told through the experience of Thomas. You remember the story.  Thomas wasn’t with the disciples the first time Jesus appeared to them.  They tell Thomas, “We’ve seen Jesus!”  He says, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my hand in his side, I will not believe.”  The next time Jesus appears, Thomas is with them.  Jesus shows Thomas his wounds, places Thomas’ hand in his side, and Thomas believes.

That’s what it took for Thomas to believe–a real live encounter, not just with Jesus, but with his wounds.

Thomas has gotten lots of grief for his unbelief over the centuries. I guess those detractors never read this passage from Luke. Because the disciples in this scene need even more evidence than Thomas did! Listen:

“Jesus stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” ³⁷They were startled and terrified, and thought they were seeing a ghost. ³⁸He said to them, “Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? ³⁹Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself.  Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.” ⁴⁰And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet.”  

At this point in John’s version of the story, Thomas believes. “My Lord and my God!” he says. In Luke’s version, the disciples aren’t quite there yet. Despite their joy, “they were disbelieving and still wondering.”  Admittedly, it was a lot for them to take in.  Jesus?  Their beloved teacher whom they had seen betrayed, beaten, and killed?  Standing in their midst, his wounds on full display?  No wonder they thought he was a ghost!  I imagine in the moment, most of us also would be “disbelieving and still wondering.”

So, you’re a risen savior, trying to get folks to believe—because how are they going to share the good news if they don’t believe that good news themselves? So, you’re a risen savior trying to get folks to believe and you’ve already pulled out all the stops like you did with Thomas—you show up, you bestow a little peace, you show your scars. Even Thomas believed after all that. But these folks still don’t believe. What’s a risen savior to do?

Here’s what Jesus does: he asks for a snack.  “Got anything to eat?” ⁴²They gave him a piece of broiled fish, ⁴³and he took it and ate in their presence.”

What can this possibly mean? How will eating a piece of fish help anybody believe? In order for him to believe, Thomas needed to see and touch Jesus’ wounds. That makes sense.  But serving Jesus a bit of broiled fish?  What’s up with that? Did Jesus need that bit of fish? Was the heavenly pantry bare? Did Jesus have the hungries? I doubt it.  But he seems to sense that, for this group of disciples, deep belief will come through serving others. So, anxious for them to believe, Jesus invites them to do just that: he invites the disciples to serve him.

This scene resonates with the Zaccheus story.  Remember that one?  Zaccheus–a hated tax collector–climbs up a sycamore tree to see Jesus when the great teacher comes to town.  Jesus sees Zaccheus, Zaccheus experiences a conversion, then Jesus says, “Zaccheus!  You come down!  For I’m going to your house today.  I’m going to your house today.”  After years of taking from others, often in extortative ways, what Zaccheus needs in this moment is to GIVE.  He needs to extend hospitality to others.  Lest his conversion get lost in the ether and relegated to a happy memory, Jesus invites Zaccheus to ground his faith in the here and now: He invites Zaccheus to serve others.

Jesus extends the same invitation to the disciples after his resurrection.  They’re happy, giddy, even, that Jesus is back with them.  But lest they get caught up in the miracle of it all, Jesus invites them to reconnect with reality in a tangible way– “Do you have anything to eat?”

“They gave him a piece of broiled fish.” Isn’t that an interesting detail? They gave him broiled fish….which means someone took the time to catch the fish, prepare it to cook, prepare the fire, and cook the fish. I wonder how they served it. On a plate? In a bowl? With a side order of hush puppies and grits?

They gave him a piece of broiled fish. They took some time and care to extend hospitality to Jesus. Fixing that fish took the disciples out of themselves, brought them back to earth, and got them grounded in the here and now….which is where they needed to be if they were going to do God’s work in the world.

I’ve just returned from a Women Touched by Grace retreat at the monastery.  Visiting Our Lady of Grace is always like going home.  That’s due, in part, to the Benedictine commitment to hospitality. Every person who comes to the monastery is to be received as Christ.  At Our Lady of Grace, that means all our needs are met–our accommodation needs, our need for meals, our need for prayer, our need for Wi-Fi. J The beautiful thing about Benedictine spirituality is that everyone is welcomed and received for exactly who they are.

Why do the sisters practice this kind of radical hospitality?  Why do they extend kindness to others and do whatever they can to meet the needs of those who visit the monastery?  They do it because serving others strengthens and deepens their own connection with God. When we’re grounded in the real world–as we must be if we’re meeting the needs of others–our understanding of God also gets grounded and real. Our relationship with God deepens.

Jesus had some important things to say to the disciples.  Their disbelief and wonder were preventing them from hearing what he was saying.  So, to get them focused enough to receive what he had to say, to get them grounded in the real world again, Jesus invited them to serve him, to extend hospitality to him.

Once they did that, once they served Jesus, only then were they ready to receive Jesus’ message. Only then did they come to believe. Only then were they empowered to share the good news of God’s love with others. If you read the sequel to Luke—the book of Acts—you’ll see that the disciples quickly began sharing the good news with everyone. In fact, that we are gathered here this morning is a legacy to the powerful work of those first century disciples.

Man. I wish we had an opportunity to serve others right now….wouldn’t that be a terrific way to end this sermon? To invite people to deepen their own belief by actually serving others?

Wait a minute! We do have an opportunity to serve coming up. It begins right after worship, doesn’t it? Yes! Another week of hosting Family Promise begins TODAY!

What are some ways people might extend hospitality to others this week of hosting Family Promise? (That is, what works needs to be done?) (Responses: Playing with the children; staying overnight; preparing meals; washing sheets and towels; listening)

Another question: In what ways has participating in Family Promise deepened your faith? (Responses:  It helps us keep things in perspective.  Reminds us to be grateful.)

Sometimes–often–the surest way to gain clarity in our relationship with God is to serve others.  It’s not something we do outside of theological reflection or spiritual discernment.  It is the way to grow deeper in our spirituality and knowledge of God. Want to grow deeper in faith? Want to grow closer to God? Serve others—serve others through Family Promise or in some other context. Serve others and find God. Serve others and find healing. Serve others and find yourself.

In the name of our God, who creates us, redeems us, sustains us and hopes for our wholeness. Amen.

Kimberleigh Buchanan © 2015
Luke 24:36-48

Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” ³⁷They were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost. ³⁸He said to them, “Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? ³⁹Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.” ⁴⁰And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet. ⁴¹While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering, he said to them, “Have you anything here to eat?” ⁴²They gave him a piece of broiled fish, ⁴³and he took it and ate in their presence. ⁴⁴Then he said to them, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you—that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.” ⁴⁵Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures, ⁴⁶and he said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, ⁴⁷and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. ⁴⁸You are witnesses of these things.

Pilgrimage United Church of Christ, “An Open and Affirming Congregation.”  That’s what it says on our sign out front.  That’s what it says on our bulletin.  That’s what it says on our website.  The designation means that we’ve gone through a process of deciding to open our doors to anyone who wants to be part of this community:  Folks who are straight.  Folks who are gay or transgender.  Folks of every race and ethnicity.

Open and Affirming–a great designation.  But is it true?  Do we really welcome EVERYONE into this community ?

I’m thinking of one group in particular.  A group often shunned by churches.  A group Sunday School teachers warn against associating with.  A group considered the dregs of Christian society.  You know who I’m talking about: the doubters, the questioners, the folks who don’t know that they know that they know everything there is to know about faith.  Do we welcome into our midst those who doubt, those who struggle with faith?  Would we welcome Thomas?

Thomas had been with Jesus for three years.  He’d lived with him, ministered with him, learned from him, and had come to believe in him…to the point that he was ready to die with him.

But somehow, when Jesus did die, Thomas’ belief wavered.  It’s a familiar story.  After a three year ministry, Jesus is killed and buried.  Then after three days, he begins appearing to his disciples.  In the Gospel of John, the first person Jesus appears to is Mary.  Shortly after that, a group of Jesus’ disciples–stunned, afraid–meet together.  Jesus appears to them.  They believe.

For some reason, Thomas isn’t at that gathering.  So when the disciples, these friends of his, see him later they say, “Thomas!  We’ve seen Jesus!”  And he says, and these are the words he’s known for, why he’s called “Doubting Thomas”–

Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.

The scene cuts immediately to a week later.  The disciples are meeting again, and this time Thomas is with them.  Jesus appears.  And it’s almost as if he heard Thomas’ words from the week before.  He knows what it will take for Thomas to believe.  “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt, but believe.”  Jesus is willing to do whatever it takes to help Thomas believe.

In the movie The Miracle Worker, teacher Annie Sullivan does whatever it takes to teach deaf and blind child, Helen Keller.  By the time Annie meets her, Helen is a wild child.  Having no language skills, Helen only communicates by throwing tantrums.  Annie sets out to teach Helen language by fingerspelling the names of objects in Helen’s world.  If Helen plays with a doll, Annie makes her spell “doll.”  If Helen wants a piece of cake, Annie makes her spell “cake.”  All through the movie Annie spells Helen’s world to her.  And while Helen can mimic the finger movements of her teacher, she doesn’t make the connection between those finger movements and the objects they represent… until the end of the movie.

That’s the scene where Helen, having just thrown an entire pitcher of water on Annie, is marched out to the hand pump by her teacher to refill the pitcher.  It’s when Helen feels the water running over her hand that she makes the connection.  This wet stuff touching my hand, this stuff is w-a-t-e-r.  Water!  And in that “Aha!” moment, everything comes together for Helen.  She finally gets it.  She finally gets that the words her fingers spell correspond to objects in her world.  And now her education can begin in earnest.  But only because her teacher was willing to do whatever it took to help Helen learn.

Helen Keller needed to learn language to continue growing.  Thomas needs belief to continue growing.  His teacher also does whatever it takes for Thomas to believe.  Jesus offers himself to Thomas.  And Thomas believes.  “My Lord and my God,” he says.

Beautiful story, isn’t it?  An intimate encounter between an unbeliever and Jesus and the unbeliever leaves the encounter believing.  It’s what the Gospel is all about.  It’s beautiful.

So here’s my question:  What are the disciples doing in this story?  Why are they there?  Isn’t this story about a one-on-one encounter between Thomas and Jesus?  The Gospel of John is full of one-on-one encounters with Jesus–Nicodemus, the Samaritan woman, the man born blind– Why couldn’t this beautiful conversion story be told with only 2 characters, Thomas and Jesus?

I think there’s a reason the disciples are lurking at the edges of this story.  I think the author is trying to prepare us for a world without the living or risen Jesus.  Here, in the 21^st century, we don’t have the luxury Thomas had of seeing or touching Jesus and his wounds.  For us, believing doesn’t come from seeing.  For us, believing comes from hearing and accepting the witness of others about their encounters with Jesus.  And where do we hear those witnesses?  We hear them in the Bible.  We also hear them in community.

But does a community really have that much influence on how individuals come to believe?  Does it really matter what we do with doubters, with unbelievers in our midst?

Hear the story of 10 year old Adah.  In the novel Poisonwood Bible, Barbara Kingsolver tells of the Sunday that Adah questions her Baptist Sunday school teacher’s assumption that Africans were going to hell simply because they hadn’t been preached to by a Baptist.  Adah’s community does not bear her questioning well.  The adult Adah remembers:  “Miss Betty sent me to the corner for the rest of the hour to pray for my own soul while kneeling on grains of uncooked rice.”  How did that experience affect Adah’s belief?  “When I finally got up with sharp grains embedded in my knees, I found, to my surprise, that I no longer believed in God.”

A community’s reaction to a person’s faith questions can indeed affect how they believe.  But must the influence always be negative?  Poet and essayist Kathleen Norris’ intense struggle toward and with faith is a prominent theme in her writings.  In a chapter titled “Belief, Doubt, and Sacred Ambiguity,” she describes 3 communal responses to her own faith questions.

First, these communities take her doubts and questions seriously…but not too seriously.  She writes that she was a bit disappointed with some monks she knew.  Thinking her doubts to be “spectacular obstacles” to her faith, the monks saw them simply as the seeds of faith, a sign that her faith was alive and ready to grow, (63, Amazing Grace).

The second thing her communities did was to give her permission to take a break from church every now and then.  She writes:

When I first began going to church, I was enormously self-conscious and for a long time could not escape the feeling that I did not belong there.  My alienation was such that for weeks at a time, my attempt to worship with others on Sunday mornings would trigger a depression lasting for days.  More than once, the pastor suggested that I give it a rest for a while.  (63-64)

Taking doubts seriously and giving permission to take a break.  That’s sort of what the disciples do with Thomas in this passage.  They tell him the good news:  They’ve seen Jesus!  Then they step back and give Thomas room to express his unbelief.  And then they leave him alone.  They don’t hound him and say, “Come on, Brother!  You’ve got to believe!  All it takes is faith!”  Or worse:  “What’s wrong with you that you can’t believe?”  No.  They give him space.

The third gift Kathleen Norris’ communities give her at times of struggle is the gift of worship, the gift of meeting regularly to worship God.  Of that group of monks mentioned earlier, Norris says:  “They seemed to believe that if I just kept coming back to worship, kept coming home, things would eventually fall in place,” (63).  It’s kind of like Annie Sullivan said after her first encounter with Helen:  “Imitate now, understand later.”  Worship now, believe later.

Thomas’ community also gives him this third gift Norris mentions.  When the disciples meet a week later, Thomas is with them.  Why is that?  He didn’t believe; he’d made that very clear.  Why was he with them that week if he didn’t believe?

We don’t know for sure, the text doesn’t say.  But I think those disciples, Thomas’ community, kept inviting him to their gatherings, despite his unbelief.  They kept welcoming Thomas–AND his questions–into their midst.  And this we do know.  We do know that it was in the midst of that community that Thomas encountered the risen Christ and came to believe.  It is in community that we encounter Christ and come to believe.  Which means that the phrase that’s on our signs is vitally important to who we are.  It is crucial that we live out what we proclaim… because it is in community that we encounter the risen Christ and come to believe.

Jesus was willing to do whatever it took to help Thomas believe.  This passage challenges us as a community to ask ourselves if we also are willing to do whatever it takes to help those in our midst believe.  Are we willing to take people’s doubts and questions seriously?  Are we willing to give people the space they need to wrestle with those doubts?  Here’s the really hard question:  Are we willing to bring our own questions and doubt to this community?

Are we all together willing to do whatever it takes to help each other believe?

In the name of our God who creates us, redeems us, and sustains us…even in our questioning.  Amen.

Kimberleigh Buchanan  © 2015, 2003, 1999

The waitress who served Mom and me at her favorite diner is named Sunday (long “a”).  Curious, I asked how she got the name.  She told me her grandmother had named her…and until years later, she hated the name.  “I grew up in the 70s.  Can you imagine?  Kids were ruthless.”  When she was old enough, she started going by her middle name–Denise.  She said that name kept her out of the principal’s office.

When Sunday’s grandmother was dying, Sunday spent some time with her.  Finally, she asked her:  “Why did you name me Sunday?”  Her grandmother’s response:  “As Sunday is holy to God, so are you holy to me.”  Sunday teared up.  “Since that moment, I have loved my name.  I’ve done some hard living in my life, but now I know I’m loved.”

As a pastor, I’ve talked with many, many people who do not feel loved–by God or anyone else.  Not believing they are loved often has dire consequences in people’s lives.  If only people–every person in the world–knew they were loved?  The world would be a happier, healthier, much more whole place.  If I had only one prayer to pray, it would be this:  that all people would know they are loved by God.

After talking with Sunday, I wrote this song, “Precious.”  I dedicate to Leelah Alcorn and to everyone who longs to feel accepted and loved for who they were created by God to be.

April 5, 2015    (EASTER – B)                                                                       “Now What?”

Mark 16:1-8;  Acts 10:34-43

The stone is rolled away!  We got Jesus birthed, baptized, betrayed, crucified, and buried…and now the stone is rolled away!  Christ is risen!  Christ is risen indeed!  Now what?

That’s the question today’s Gospel lesson poses.  Mary Magdalene, another Mary, and Salome bring spices to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body.  They find the stone rolled away, Jesus’ body gone, and a young man, who tells them Jesus is risen. Terrified, the women flee and speak to no one.

That’s the original ending to Mark’s Gospel. A little unsatisfying as endings go… so unsatisfying that at least two alternate endings made it into the final version of the Bible.

Personally, I like the original ending.  Good stories don’t always tie things up neatly by the end, do they? Is anybody still thinking about that last episode of The Sopranos?  In fact, the best stories–like Jesus’ parables– often leave hearers with a question:  Who is my neighbor?  Who is the prodigal?  How does faith grow from a speck of mustard seed into a large tree?  What happened to Tony Soprano?

The question left at the end of Mark is, Now what?  Christ is risen! —Now what? The one who showed us God was killed, then raised from the dead—Now what? Love has triumphed over evil—Now what? Running away in terror–that’s one response.  In truth, it’s probably the first response most of us would have. But after that initial response– then what?

The thing about the “Now what?” question is it’s a moving target. If we ask it now, we’ll have one answer. If we ask it two years from now, we could have a very different answer.

Christ is risen! Now what? It’s a question the faithful have been answering since that first Easter morning.  Sometimes our responses have been less than stellar–the Inquisition, the Crusades, Slavery, oppression of women, so-called “religious liberty” laws.  But sometimes our responses have been very much in keeping with the Easter message of the power of love to triumph over (or heal or transform) evil–the work of martyrs and saints, the work of our own denomination in welcoming those who routinely have been rejected, the Civil Rights movement.

So, on this Easter Sunday morning in Marietta, GA, April 5, 2015, as we celebrate the risen Christ: Now what? How will we live the Easter message that love triumphs over evil?

The answer we devise to the “Now what?” question might be completely different from one we would devise later, but now is now, so let’s see what we come up with.

To help us figure it out, we might consider something the Apostle Paul said just a few years after Jesus’ death: “I understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears God and does what is right is acceptable to God.”

Paul lived at a time when most followers of Jesus were Jewish. So, when Paul welcomed non-Jews into the faith, many Jewish followers of Jesus weren’t happy….because they understood Jesus’ message to be for the Jewish people. Paul saw Jesus’ message reaching beyond a single religion to anyone who felt led to follow it.

I wonder if, in 2015, we might piggyback on Paul’s answer to the “Now what?” question and take it a step further. Paul responded to the Easter message of love’s triumph over evil by extending that love to people outside the Jewish faith. I wonder if we, ala Paul, might live the good news of Easter by extending God’s love and care to those outside our Christian faith? Not to make them Christians; but to love them no matter what faith they practice.

A few weeks ago, some of our folks attended a workshop at Emerson UU called, “Healing the Muslim/Non-Muslim Divide.” The next day during 8:30 worship, Dan Binney offered a prayer for our Muslim neighbors. At the workshop, several Muslims related how afraid they often are. Like the rest of us, all they want is to live their lives, provide for their families, and practice their faith. But because of misconceptions and biased media accounts, they never know what people are thinking, or what harm might come to them simply because of their faith.

As Dan talked, I remembered Andrew Young’s words about growing up in New Orleans in the Jim Crow South. He said, “My mother taught us how to live in the segregated South… because one wrong action could get us killed.”  Until Dan’s words to us a couple weeks ago, I never realized just how frightening it can be to live as a Muslim in our society, even in 2015.

I know. It’s Easter—the most Christian day there is! But if Easter is about the triumph of love over evil, might that love reach also to people of other faiths? As faithful followers of Christ, might we live our Christian faith by reaching out to, loving, yes, harboring anyone in need of sanctuary? I’m talking about more than simply tolerating other faiths. I’m talking about real, live acting-them-into-well-being love for people who practice other faiths.

I want to share with you one of the best Easter stories I’ve ever heard…except for the original. J It comes from Pete Hamill’s novel, Snow in August.

Thirteen year old Michael lives in New York City in 1947. Just two years after World War II has ended, Michael is still adjusting to the loss of his dad in the war. One Saturday morning on his way to serve as altar boy at his church, Michael approaches the neighborhood synagogue. As he passes, a man leans out the door and motions to Michael. In halting English, the man says that, because it is Sabbath, he is not allowed to turn on the light. If Michael could get the light for him, he’d be so grateful.

That first encounter turns into a weekly ritual. Every Saturday morning, Michael stops by to flip on lights for Rabbi Hirsch. Soon they add weekday sessions, where Michael teaches the rabbi English and the rabbi teaches Michael Yiddish. They share stories. Michael tells the rabbi about losing his father in the war. Rabbi Hirsch tells Michael about losing his wife.

Folks in the neighborhood aren’t always kind to the rabbi or the synagogue’s dwindling membership. Post-war anti-Semitism runs high. Like African Americans in the Jim Crow South, or Jews in pre-war Germany, or, perhaps, Muslims in our own neighborhoods, Michael’s friend Rabbi Hirsch lives in fear.

That fear was evident in the cry Michael heard as he walked to Easter mass. “How could they do this? Who could do this?” Michael rounded the corner and saw Rabbi Hirsch, his face gray with anger and grief, violently scrubbing at one of a dozen ugly red swastikas that had been painted on the synagogue’s front walls and doors.

Taking in the scene, Michael said, “Wait here,” and ran “all the way to his church, where he caught Fr. Heaney as 9:00 mass was ending. After relating what had happened, Michael said, “We’ve got to help him!” “Why should we get involved, kid?” the priest asked. “Because Rabbi Hirsch is a good guy!” Skeptical, the priest asked, “How do you know?”

“Michael exploded. ‘How do I know? I’m the Shabbos goy at the synagogue! I help him turn on the lights every Saturday morning. I’m teaching him English. He’s teaching me Yiddish. And his wife is dead and he’s alone and he doesn’t need some Nazi painting his synagogue! My father died fighting the Nazis. You saw all kinds of guys die in the war…”

“Fr. Heaney’s eyes opened wider and he stepped back a foot, as if the words had pierced a part of him that had been numb for a long time. He reached for his coat. “Come on,” he said.

“He walked out into the church, pointed at a few men and gestured for them to follow him. He grabbed one of the altar boys from the previous mass, a tall Italian kid named Albert… Mr. Gallagher, who owned the hardware store across the street, arrived late and was searching for a seat when Fr. Heaney took him by the elbow and guided him back outside.

“At the foot of the church steps, Fr. Heaney started giving orders like the military man he’d once been. He slipped two dollars to Albert, the altar boy, and sent him to buy some coffee and buns at the bakery. He convinced Mr. Gallagher to open the hardware store and hand out rags and scrubbers and solvents. On the corner near the schoolyard, he saw Charlie Senator, who had left his leg at Anzio, limping toward the church. He whispered a few words to him, and Senator gave him a small salute and fell in line.

“Then all of them were marching down the avenue, carrying mops and rags, pails and solvents. People in Easter finery looked at them in surprise. A few more men joined the march, with Fr. Heaney and Michael out front as the platoon turned into Kelly Street.

“When they reached the synagogue, Rabbi Hirsch was still poking with his mop at the first swastika. ‘Rabbi, I’m Joe Heaney,’ the priest said. ‘I was a chaplain in the 103^rd Airborne. Most of these men fought their way into Germany two years ago, and one of them lost a leg in Italy. They are not going to let this kind of thing happen in their parish.” “Please,” Rabbi Hirsch said, “I can do it myself.” “No, you can’t,” Fr. Heaney said.

“They went to work. Mr. Ponte, the stonemason, fingered the texture of the bricks, while Mr. Gallagher examined the paint… Together, he and Mr. Ponte mixed the solvents in a steel pail. Others peeled off their Easter jackets, removed their ties, rolled up their sleeves, and grabbed rags and mops. Albert, the altar boy, arrived with buns and coffee, then grabbed a cloth. Michael hung his jacket and tie on the fence and joined in the scrubbing.” The men and boys worked together in silence until the job was done.

“Rabbi Hirsch walked back and forth, examining the walls.” “The men had finished cleaning their hands and pulling on their jackets and neckties. Most were sipping coffee and smoking cigarettes and wolfing down the buns from the bakery. They looked awkward now, saying little, staring at the wall or the sidewalk or the sky… The synagogue was as strange a place to them as it had been to Michael on that first morning. He saw Rabbi Hirsch flex his fingers as if to shake hands, but his hands were covered with paint.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” the rabbi said hoarsely. “I wish to the synagogue you all could come, to have a big seder together, but food we don’t have here, just tea, and matzoh, and…” “It’s all right, Rabbi,” Fr. Heaney said. “Some other time.” The rabbi bowed in a stiff, dignified way.

“‘I’ll see you, Rabbi,” Mr. Gallagher said, and grabbed the pail, emptying the solvents into the gutter, nodding to the others to retrieve the mops. ‘Let’s move out,’ he said.”

“Charlie Senator glanced at his watch and then at Fr. Heaney. “Well,” he said, “I better go do my Easter duty.” Fr. Heaney replied: “You just did.”

Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad to see all you this morning…but when I think of the original Easter story and the Easter story we’ve just heard—stories about resurrection, about love’s triumph over evil, about love’s power to heal and transform evil— I find myself asking, How might we live the Easter message, even on Easter Sunday?

Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Now what?

In the name of our God, who creates us, redeems us, sustains us, and hopes for our wholeness. Amen

Kimberleigh Buchanan © 2015

Acts 10:34-43

Gentiles Hear the Good News

34 Then Peter began to speak to them: ‘I truly understand that God shows no partiality, ³⁵but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him. ³⁶You know the message he sent to the people of Israel, preaching peace by Jesus Christ—he is Lord of all. ³⁷That message spread throughout Judea, beginning in Galilee after the baptism that John announced: ³⁸how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power; how he went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him. ³⁹We are witnesses to all that he did both in Judea and in Jerusalem. They put him to death by hanging him on a tree; ⁴⁰but God raised him on the third day and allowed him to appear, ⁴¹not to all the people but to us who were chosen by God as witnesses, and who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead. ⁴²He commanded us to preach to the people and to testify that he is the one ordained by God as judge of the living and the dead. ⁴³All the prophets testify about him that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name.’

Mark 16:1-8

The Resurrection of Jesus

16When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. ²And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. ³They had been saying to one another, ‘Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?’ ⁴When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. ⁵As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. ⁶But he said to them, ‘Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. ⁷But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.’ ⁸So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.^*