Third Sunday of Easter, Year C, May 5, 2019.  The Rev. Pamela L. Werntz

O God of Resurrection, grant us the strength, the wisdom and the courage to seek always and everywhere after truth, come when it may, and cost what it will.

We are going deep into the Great Fifty Days of Easter, the extended celebration of the Resurrection of the Dead. I’m always grateful that the Church calendar gives 40 days for Lent, but 50 days for Easter. Lent is easier for many of us – we can easily believe in the need for focus on penitence, prayer, study, and almsgiving. Many of you tell me that Lent is your favorite season. On the other hand, a season of increased focus on resurrection joy really trips people up. So the Church gives us extra time – an extension or sorts – to observe, to celebrate new life for what has seemed unredeemable, discarded, lost or dead! Some of you might be thinking that fifty days is not long enough. That’s okay – this is a group project, not an individual assignment, and every year we get another try.

The Apostle Peter gives us a glimpse of resurrection joy. Here is a most trusted companion of Jesus’ who denies that he knows Jesus when things start going very badly. Peter (aka The Rock) denies Jesus three times, which means, completely, thoroughly, and real. Then he flees the scene of the crucifixion. Then he sees the burial cloths in the empty tomb, and then has two up close experiences of the Risen Lord behind locked doors, breathing inspiration into him. Still, he doesn’t recognize the Risen Lord when he’s back at work on the Sea of Galilee, until someone else tells him. Jesus asks him three times (perhaps one for each denial), “Do you love me?” And when he says, “yes,” Jesus’ response is “Feed my lambs. Tend my sheep. Feed my sheep” and finally, “follow me” even and especially to those places you do not wish to go. (I use present tense, because this story is ongoing.)

In the dramatic telling of the Apostle Paul’s conversion in Acts of the Apostles, one of the pieces of the story that gets too little attention, in my view, is the story of a disciple named Ananias. Saul did not become Paul all by himself. Saul did not become Paul by pondering the experience of getting knocked off …his donkey, being blinded by a flash of light, and hearing a voice that seemed to come from no one. It was Ananias who was convicted or convinced before Saul was convicted or convinced. When Ananias heard the Holy One tell him that he was to say healing prayer over a man from Tarsus named Saul, he protested. “O my Lord,” he said, “this guy has done a lot of damage to the community of Jesus followers in Jerusalem. He’s dangerous. He could hurt me. He could have me arrested. I don’t want to. It’s not a good time for me. It wouldn’t be prudent. It’s not safe. Seriously Lord, this guy Saul is bad news.”

What Ananias heard in response to his protests was Jesus saying to him, “Go, for Saul is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before the unbelievers and their rulers, as well as the believers; I myself will show him how much he must experience for the sake of my name.” The Greek word translated “suffer” can be positive, neutral or negative – a less judgmental rendering is experience or undergo. Ananias comes to understand that the Risen Lord will show Saul how much he must experience for the sake of the Holy Name. So Ananias went and entered the house on the street called “Straight” or “Direct.” (You will not be surprised that I prefer to translate that “a street called Integrity.”) He laid his hands on Saul and said, “Brother Saul, the Lord Jesus, who appeared to you on your way here, has sent me so that you may regain your sight and be filled with a spirit of holiness.” Note that Saul had not confessed or repented prior to, or in order to, be forgiven or healed. This is another in a long line of Biblical stories of the Author of All perceiving potential where others don’t, in this case, through Jesus. This is another call to proclaim loving kindness and right relationship to Gentiles and Jews, in other words, to everyone.

There are widely inclusive themes in our other two readings as well – in the thousands of thousands singing before the throne in Revelation, and in the curious detail of 153 fish in the Gospel of John. According to Bible scholar Adele Reinhartz’s note in the Jewish Annotated New Testament, the early Church theologian “Jerome states that Greek zoologists had recorded 153 different types of fish, … the number symbolizes the universality of the Gospel’s message and mission.”[1] The good news of Love’s redeeming work, that the risen Jesus continued to oversee, is represented with a net that can hold every kind of fish without exception and without fail – without breaking. The vision of resurrection is a gift intended for everyone, no matter what.

Resurrection is spiritually mysterious, inspiring awe and fascination. Things happen that cannot be easily explained; events take on divine meaning – encounters with bright lights, with choirs of messengers singing good news, with strangers who appear and disappear, bringing news of Divine Love and human responsibility that must be communicated, with or without words (or “not only with our lips but in our lives” as our Book of Common Prayer says it). I’m not just talking about pre-modern experiences called miracles that can now be explained with post-modern scientific analysis. I’m talking about a tradition of interpretation of mysterious encounters that invites us, pushes us, pulls us, provokes us from personal to communal to societal, to environmental, indeed to global restoration.[2]  You may have had such experiences. My hunch is that far more people have such experiences than are willing to talk about them, because they always sound a little kooky when reported. Probably because I’m a priest, people often tell me about mystical, transformative experiences they’ve had, but they are not my stories to tell. Here are two stories I can tell.

Some of you have heard the story of my own father, who had a life changing mystical experience about which he was reluctant to tell, even though his family all lived with the dramatic consequences. I didn’t learn until after his sudden and pre-mature death, that as a young man, married with an infant and a toddler at home, working for an industrial business, he had an encounter on his own road to Damascus. One day while driving to a meeting, he got a blinding migraine headache and had to pull off the road because he could no longer see to drive. During his temporary blindness, he came to understand that he needed to completely change his career trajectory and become a minister of the Gospel. This news did not go over well with my mother. Nevertheless, he quit his job, went to seminary, and somehow stayed married to my mom. She eventually learned to live with it and even appreciate it, although it took almost three decades. I think perhaps that was the miracle in this particular story.

Or there is the story of my friend who was working as a sailing instructor in the Boston Harbor. She was out on a little boat with a half dozen young students, when a storm suddenly blew in. They were trying to get back to the dock when lightning struck the mast that she had her hand on. She experienced in that most literal flash, a voice asking her if she stood by her life. In other words, was she willing and ready to defend how she was living? She responded that she wanted another chance. She survived the lightning strike, although she was hospitalized for an extended time. When she recovered, she made some dramatic changes and started living a life that she would be proud to defend – a life of dignity and respect for herself and others, including some who have squandered their dignity and respect. One of the changes she made was to go back to church. I met her in Virginia in the early 1990’s when she chose the church I attended because she saw my car with a little rainbow sticker on it from the main road and thought, if there was a rainbow sticker on a car in a church parking lot, maybe she could try it. Resurrection is mysterious.

Resurrection is performative in the sense of moral and ethical actions. Resurrection joy looks like engaging in acts of loving kindness even with one’s enemies, worshipping the Holy One of all creation in community, and following Jesus’ example: feed and care for all of the lambs of God. Resurrection is much more about behaving than it is about offering assent to an idea. When we look for the resurrection of the dead, we are looking for what can be seen. Paul’s conversion experience (or my dad’s or my friend’s) would have meant little if their behavior hadn’t changed in ways that could be seen. Paul stopped persecuting and started supporting Jesus’ followers. My dad stopped selling ball bearings and joined the in the Civil Rights movement, doing community organizing work in Chicago and Joliet. My friend who was struck by lightning became an attorney who represents and defends criminals, which is also Gospel work. All three began to behave as if Love is truly stronger than death and that the dignity of every human being matters. They began to enact the disciplines and commitments of Love that were not prudent or safe or popular.

One way to celebrate Easter is to keep looking for resurrection. Archbishop Desmond Tutu and his daughter, Mpho Tutu van Furth, in their Book of Forgiving, suggest developing what they call “a mind-set of forgiveness, rather than a mind-set of grievance” by training our eyes to see and notice what is good in the world, with a sense of gratitude. Theirs is no Pollyanna approach, but with eyes wide open to the capacity among humans for unconscionable evil, they recognize that “our ability to forgive and heal stands as a rejoinder that we are not made for evil but for goodness [and that]…the spasms of cruelty and violence, hatred and ruthlessness, are the exception not the rule of our human lives.”

Theologian Rachel Held Evans sadly died yesterday morning. In her book, Searching for Sunday, she described what the realm of God, or resurrected life looks like as far as I’m concerned: “a bunch of outcasts and oddballs gathered at a table, not because they are rich or worthy or good, but because they are hungry, because they said yes. And there’s always room for more.”[4] This Eastertide, look for that kind of resurrection and give thanks to the Giver of All Good.

← Back to sermons page