Sermon on John 17:20-26

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

On this last Sunday of the Easter season, we’re reading the last of Jesus’ Farewell Discourse, his final teachings to his disciples before being arrested and executed.

He exhorted them to love one another, bestowed his peace on them, and closed by praying for them. Today’s reading is the end of this prayer, and he prayed for unity.

Jesus was about to die. He would not be physically present with his disciples forever to hold together the budding movement.

If, as so often happens with groups of humans, the movement splintered because of disagreements and egos and misunderstandings, what would happen to his teachings? What would be the legacy of the Jesus movement? Would people recognize them by their love for one another as Jesus taught? Would they be known for washing feet as Jesus had done for them that night?

Our reading from Acts gives us a glimpse a little into the future of the Jesus movement. We see an interesting contrast between the enslavers of the woman with the spirit of divination and the Jesus followers Paul and Silas.

The enslavers became enraged once they could no longer profit off of the enslaved woman. It says, they “saw that their hope of making money was gone,” and they “dragged” Paul and Silas in front of the authorities, accusing them of disturbing the peace and advocating unlawful customs.

What Paul and Silas had done was challenge systems that allowed humans to profit off of each other, and they were beaten and imprisoned for it.

Then, when divine provision allowed them to escape, they could have left without risking being recaptured. They would have benefited from another’s suffering, because the jailer was ready to die by suicide rather than face the consequences of having let the prisoners escape. But instead, they admitted they were still there, leaving open the possibility of recapture. And the jailer and his whole household joined the family of God.Theyshowed hospitality to Paul and Silas, and they all bonded over baptism and hospitality.

What a contrast: people who profited off others versus inclusion and communion.

That’s what the Beloved Community looks like.

The jailer and his household recognized God’s love in Paul and Silas for their integrity and respect for his humanity even at personal risk. The rewards were beautiful.

In this story, we see the realization of what Jesus was praying for: that his future followers would be united in their mission to share God’s love with others.

And also, not all the stories of Jesus followers are that positive. Christians are not always known for our love for one another.

Even in Acts, we see great conflict between Peter and Paul and the challenges facing the early Church.

Throughout Church history, Christians have fought wars with each other and against others, have enacted genocide, and have oppressed countless people, just for a few examples.

We’re not very unified, and we’re often not very loving to each other.

The professor of my History of World Christianity class in undergrad framed the course as a constant back and forth between unity and purity. Should Christians stay unified as a movement or choose the purity of theirideals, doctrines, and values?

Throughout the class,I pretty much always found myself rooting for unity and found myself frustrated by many of the things Christians have cut ties with each other over.

But as the years have gone by, I’ve seen some schisms in our own denomination and others. It’s easy for me to judge our ancestors in faith for the disagreements that caused permanent rifts among them, but it’s a lot harder when faced with the controversial conversations of our time.

It’s easy for me to root for unity when it’s not my belonging that’s being questioned.

For example, I was in college and out of my Lutheran bubble in 2009, when the ELCA voted to ordain LGBTQ folks and bless LGBTQ relationships (this was, of course, before marriages were legal).

I didn’t realize what I had missed until 2012, when I moved to the Denver area for a few months and joined a church there that had a gay pastor. It was hands down my favorite part of my life there.

The congregation also hosted a visit from the Reconciling in Christ organization. The representative was a trans woman who described how, early in her transition, she was so afraid, because people perceived her as a “man in a dress,” but church was the one place she felt safe and accepted.If only church were always like that. She’s since been ordained as an ELCA pastor, and our denomination is so much richer for it.

It was easy for me to root for unity when I didn’t see who was being excluded—the gifts we were missing out on.

Unity was impossible anyway. LGBTQ people were already in our congregations, already leaders, even if they so often didn’t get the titles that went with their leadership or had to stay closeted for their safety. “Unity” meant choosing to continue to oppress beloved siblings in Christ.

Sometimes, ironically, we have to choose between the so-called “unity” of the status quo and the expansiveness of Christ’s welcome and inclusion.

All this is to say that unity versus purity is much more complicated than I comprehended as an idealistic college student. The Christian movement has been wrestling with unity versus purity throughout its history, and it’s led to some ugly consequences.

We Christians aren’t very unified, and we’re often not very loving to one other.

Sometimes it seems like Jesus’ prayer was in vain.

And still, there are instances of unity.

The ELCA itself is a testament to branches of Christianity being reunited. Our denomination was born from Lutheran bodies merging, not splitting. Sure, there have been some splits since then, but it’s still encouraging that we have some history of cooperation.

On a larger scale, the ELCA and our Orthodox siblings are currently in conversation about the language in the Nicene Creed that caused the Church to split into Eastern and Western branches 971 years ago. This year is actually the 1700th anniversary of the Nicene Creed, so I’m putting together an educational series about our various creeds for later this year—stay tuned!One of the things we’ll talk about is the split between the Orthodox and Roman Catholic branches so many years ago and the current conversations.

As an example of interfaith cooperation, I had the great privilege of attending a Shabbat and Iftar dinner at Temple Beth Tikvah in Fullerton earlier this year, when they invited a Muslim congregation to break their fast with them one Friday evening during Ramadan. It was so beautiful to see people from the two traditions learning from one another and enjoying each other’s company.

This year, Ramadan and Passover fell pretty close to each other, and our observance of Easter coincided with our Orthodox siblings’. When there’s so much polarization and conflict in the world, those feel like encouraging signs that there’s still hope of cooperation and love in this world.

Jesus prayed for his disciples and followers to be united and for God’s love to be in us. He said this in a prayer, not as a command or exhortation. Love one another was an instruction, but being united was his prayer for us.

What if, as a sort of thank you note for that prayer, we prayed for unity, too?

Not a prayer for easy answers or false agreement or unity at the expense of those of us who are more marginalized, but a prayer for understanding, for deep dialogue, for appreciation of others’ humanity, and the humility to see things from others’ points of view even if we continue to disagree.

This is the final Sunday in Easter, but God’s resurrection power is still at work in the world, now and always. Jesus prayed for us to be unified and instructed us to love each other. We fall short of that all the time, but,

·       God still loves us (and those we disagree with),

·       Jesus is still praying for us,

·       And the Holy Spirit is still working among us to embrace the world with God’s unity and love.

Let’s pray now and let that be just the beginning of our thank you note prayer for Jesus’ prayer for us.

The Lord be with you. Let us pray.

Jesus, our crucified and risen Savior, thank you for praying for our ancestors in faith, for us, and for those who will come after us. Bring us your peace, fill us with your love, and may we be known for our love for one another and all your beloved children.Encourage us toward unity in challenging conversations, andlet us always see and value others’ humanity. Help us to love the world like you do.Bring us new life and true peace. Amen.

Sermon on John 10:22-30

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

As usual, Jesus was indirect with his answer in our Gospel reading today.

His healings and teachings and miracles had been creating quite a stir, and his critics (the religious authorities, not “the Jews” in general—as always, Jesus and his disciples were Jewish among mostly other Jewish people)—his critics were demanding a clear answer: was he the Messiah or not?

But Jesus wasn’t falling into their trap. He basically told them that if they had been paying attention to what he had been doing—how he had been caring for people, showing mercy and compassion to the most vulnerable, sharing God’s abundance—then they would have their answer already.

Louis Armstrong was once asked to define the rhythm of swing music, and he replied, “If you have to ask, you’ll never know.”

Jesus was essentially saying the same thing about his identity: if you have to ask if Jesus is the Messiah, then you’ll never see that he was answering that question every day of his ministry. It, like swing music, was something to be experienced, not defined.

And since, presumably, followers of Jesus were listening in on this conversation, Jesus was assuring them that they didn’t have to worry. Jesus was the Good Shepherd—he knew their names, and they would never be taken away from him.

Jesus was simultaneously comforting his followers and convicting his critics.

Throughout this passage and the longer teaching it’s a part of, known as the Good Shepherd discourse, Jesus references Ezekiel 34, which contrasts the false shepherds who were doing a poor job of leading God’s people with God, the True Shepherd.

God, through Ezekiel, calls out the “shepherds of Israel” for indulging themselves at the expense of the people they’re supposed to be caring for, for ignoring the needs of the most vulnerable, and for letting the “sheep” be scattered instead oftending to them.

God instead promises to seek them out, feed them well, let them rest, bind up their injuries, and strengthen the weak.

So, when Jesus describes himself as the Good Shepherd, he’s making those promises to those who are listening, especially the most marginalized.

They can trust him to fulfill the promises God made to God’s people. Jesus calls them by name, and they can never be snatched from his hand.

It’s tempting to be cynical about those promises today. It’s poetic and all, but the practicality of it is hard to see.It’s nice to talk of being part of a flock, but that kind of belonging is hard to come by these days.

Our world is constantly changing.

Churches aren’t the community centers they were decades ago.

Neighbors don’t necessarily know each other.

Technology allows us to stay in touch with people far away more easily, but it’s not the same as a hug.

Many of us spend more and more time online, where deep, beautiful connections can be made and where we can also sometimes get a superficial sense of being connected to other people that doesn’t ultimately satisfy our human need for community.

It can be hard to feel like we belong anywhere.

It can be hard to read our Gospel today and feel like we’re part of God’s flock.

In our anxiety about our disconnection and the state of the world, sometimes we seek easy answers, like the religious leaders in our story. “Tell us plainly, Jesus: are you who you’re rumored to be?”

Or maybe, “tell me plainly, Jesus, am I who you say I am? Am I your sheep? Will you care for me too? Will you look for me when I feel lost? What about the people I care about? Are your promises for them too? Or will you leave them behind?”

If there are two things I’ve learned about being a person of faith, it’s to value good questions and to be suspicious of easy answers. And those are good and important questions.

And in our Gospel reading, Jesus turns his audience away from easy answers.

Instead, he points them toward his actions.“Actions speak louder than words,” so they say.If you’re wondering about Jesus’ promises about caring for his flock, look at his actions.

He healed the sick, brought peace to the suffering, fed the hungry, and brought dignity to the marginalized.

If you’re wondering who’s part of his flock, look at his actions.

He gathered all kinds of people—from hated tax collectors to isolated people with leprosy to foreigners to women and children and people with disabilities who were second class citizens to people with bad reputations to pretty much anyone you can imagine. If Jesus is the Good Shepherd, he’s got a big and eclectic flock to tend.

We also see the variety of that flock in our reading from Revelation today. In it, there’s a vision of “a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages” all gathered together in joy and celebration.

This multitude of people has “come through the great ordeal.” Since Revelation was written in a time of persecution of Jesus followers, this likely refers to people martyred for their beliefs.

And today, there’s warfare, violence, disease, oppression, malnutrition, poverty, hate crimes, natural disasters, and many other “great ordeals” that too many people made in the image of God are subjected to.

It’s so easy to ask why God lets these things happen, but instead of giving us an easy answer, God often turns the question back to us, asking why we let these things happen.

There are so many people who are doing good in this world, trying to make a difference, including this congregation, which feeds our neighbors week in and week out. And still, this world is not as it should be.

And God still promises to tend God’s flock. Revelation, in addition to giving us beautiful visions of the fulfillment of the Beloved Community, tells us this about those who have gone through the “great ordeal”:

“For this reason they are before the throne of God
  and worship him day and night within his temple,
  and the one who is seated on the throne will shelter them.
 They will hunger no more and thirst no more;
  the sun will not strike them,
  nor any scorching heat,
 for the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd,
  and he will guide them to springs of the water of life,
 and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.”

May it be so for every single person made in the image of God, which is every single person.

We may not get the easy answers we want, and there’s plenty to be anxious about in our world, but when we look at Jesus’ life and the themes throughout scripture, we see that God’s flock is expansive and inclusive. We see that God cares deeply for the most marginalized and vulnerable in society and calls us to care too.

God calls each of us by name and those we care about and even those we might be bothered by or have a hard time with. We are all God’s children, part of God’s flock, living in God’s creation.

God cares about our world too—not an inch in all of creation is forgotten or unloved. Martin Luther wrote that “God writes the gospel not in the Bible alone, but also on the trees, and in the flowers and clouds and stars.” We can find the Good News of God’s Beloved Community in the natural world around us. We can see God’s care and abundance by looking at what God created and continues to nurture—it’s all around us.

God isn’t about easy answers, but we can look to Jesus’ actions and God’s handiwork in creation to find reassurance that God cares for us, tends us, and calls us by name.

As you go about your life loving your neighbors, neither you nor they will be snatched out of God’shand. We and all of creation are safe in the loving arms of our Good Shepherd forever.

Sermon on John 21:1-19

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

If you’ve ever felt like you’re not enough, you’re in good company.

The Bible’s full of people who didn’t seem to measure up:

·       Moses didn’t feel like he was a good enough speaker to confront Pharoah.

·       Hannah was mocked by her husband’s other wife for not meeting society’s expectations—in this case: having children.

·       David was the youngest, a shepherd boy among strong, impressive older brothers who would surely be better kings.

·       Mary was a no one from a backwater town in Roman Empire occupied territory—not a strong candidate for mother of God.

And then, we heard the stories of Saul and Peter today.

Saul was actively working to have Jesus followers arrested, imprisoned, and executed.Jesus chose to miraculously appear to Saul and commission him to not just stop killing Jesus followers, but to follow Jesus himself and invite others to do the same. Why would Jesus choose this guy with so much blood on his hands?

Then, there’s Peter who swore up and down that he would die for Jesus only to choose his own safety over being truthful about not only knowing Jesus but being his disciple and friend. He didn’t even stick around to be with Jesus in his final moments before death. So, even after Jesus’ resurrection, Peter decided the best thing to do was go back to what he knew. “I’m going fishing,” he said. Maybe that was his way of numbing the shame of all that had happened over the past couple weeks when he just hadn’t measured up to his brave promises.

And yet, we see in our Gospel reading that Jesus gave Peter the chance to try again. Instead of denying that he knew Jesus, Peter affirmed again and again that he not only knew him but loved him.

And Jesus not only forgave him but commissioned him to tend his flock in his physical absence. Why would Jesus give Peter a second chance when he saw that Peter reacted badly in a crisis?

And yet we read later that Saul (renamed Paul) and Peterboth had a huge impact on spreading the Beloved Community. They didn’t agree with each other a lot of the time, but it would be hard to overstate their impact on the early Jesus movement. It’s a good reminder that faithful people have disagreed with each other heatedly since the beginning of the Church and still have done good, important community building work.

Jesus came to both Paul and Peter, invited them to choose different behavior, and then sent them on the mission to nurture and to share the Good News of God’s Beloved Community.

They weren’t just offered forgiveness but given a mission.“Follow me,” Jesus told Peter.“Get up and enter the city, and you will be told what you are to do,” Jesus told Paul.

Their stories didn’t end with seeing Jesus. Easter wasn’t an end but a beginning.

It’s a story God is still writing, and we’re characters in that story.

And we, like Moses and Hannah and David and Mary and Peter and Paul, can sometimes feel like we’re not enough or are told by society that we’re not enough.

We so often ignore God’s invitations in our lives, insisting we’re not worthy, there’s someone better out there, we’re too busy, we’re not equipped, we’re too (young, old, quiet, loud, or insert whatever quality or characteristic you’re self-conscious about).

So, we hide behind our familiar fishing nets, turning back to what we know, regardless of whether it’s the best thing for us right now or if it’s even harming us, keeping us from what God has imagined.

What are your fishing nets? What do you turn back to because it’s comfortable, instead of being willing to accept God’s invitation to something new, hard, or scary?

Again, you’re in good company.

And when Star Wars Day, May the Fourth, as in “May the Fourth be with you,” falls on a Sunday, I would have to turn in my nerd card if I didn’t work at least a small reference into my sermon. So here are two more examples of people giving up and turning back to what’s comfortable before accepting a new path.

In Episode IV: A New Hope, Han Solo is invited to join the rebels in a dangerous but noble mission against the Empire. But he declines, choosing to go back to his way of life as a smuggler.

And in Episode V: The Empire Strikes Back, Luke has gone to train in the use of the Force with Master Yoda, but he gets discouraged when Yoda has him go from levitating small rocks to lifting his entire ship out of the swamp. To his credit, he does attempt it, and the ship starts moving, but then it sinks back into the water. He slumps down next to Yoda and says, “I can’t; it’s too big.”

The task at hand often feels too big.The ship is too big to lift out of the swamp.The Imperial army is too big to defeat.

What can a smuggler or a farm boy do against Darth Vader, the Emperor, and the Imperial forces anyway?

What can a denying disciple or an executer of Jesus followers do to build the Beloved Community?

What can you or I do against all that’s wrong with this world?

The problems are too big.

But as Yoda tells Luke, “Size matters not.”

After overcoming his discouragement, Luke keeps training in the Force and becomes a hero of the Rebellion.

Han changes his mind and comes back at a pivotal moment, saving the day.

As big as the problems of this world feel, they’re not too big for God, and God chooses us to help make earth more as it is in heaven. We might not all be heroes like Luke and Han or great influencers of the Church like Peter and Paul, but God calls us too.

Jesus called Peter and Paul, and he calls you and me, even when we feel insufficient. Jesus knows our weaknesses, our backgrounds, and everything else that makes us feel unworthy, hypocritical, or like an imposter. And he calls us anyway.Jesus calls us to feed his lambs, tend his sheep, and follow him.

I’ve heard it said that humility isn’t thinking less of yourself but thinking of others more.Humility isn’t about being the best at beating ourselves up. It’s easier to set aside our insecurities when we’re focusing on others with love instead of dwelling on how we think we fall short.

And we’re going to fall short. We’re human beings, not God. And God knows that—God takes that into account when God calls us. We can’t be imposters with God, because God knows everything about us—more than we know ourselves. And God calls us anyway.

As we continue our mission to be the church that feeds people body and soul, remember what Yoda said, “Do or do not. There is no try.”

Let’s feed God’s sheep together.