Peace over Fear

Sermon preached Sunday, April 7, 2024, the Second Sunday of Easter, at Lutheran Church of Our Saviour in North Chesterfield, VA. 

What does the word “peace” mean for you?

There are lots of ways it can be used, right? I use it to sign off on emails, or use as a verb, saying I “peaced out” of somewhere. It can be something internal, a quietness felt inside. It can be a lack of external strife. It can be a legal, political thing, or an adjustive to describe a sleeping baby.

This complexity is nothing new. Even in Jesus’ time, the word we translate as “peace” meant different things to different people. To the Romans, it meant a pause in the violence they used to maintain control, it meant that the people were being appropriately docile and there were no active rebellions to put down. Even more philosophically, to both Romans and Greeks, it had connotations of being at peace within one’s self, the absence of conflict.[i]

…but to Jesus, to the disciples, to those who held the Hebrew notion of shalom, peace was used in a much more interpersonal context and, in the Gospel of John, it is used sparingly, on just three occasions, and always from the mouth of Jesus.

In Chapter 14: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” (John 14:27)

In Chapter 16: “I have said this to you, so that in me you may have peace.” (16:33a)

And, finally, we have our reading today. Jesus greets his disciples with peace as they are huddled away from the world.

Let’s remember what’s happening here. The scene opens later on the day of resurrection. Mary Magdalene has presumably already come to tell the disciples that she saw the resurrected Christ. So are they out sharing the news? Nope, they’re locked in the house because of the disciples’ fear. We don’t know if they believed Mary or not, but even if they did, it wasn’t enough to get them back out into the world. Their fear has taken over.

Jesus arrives and offers them his presence and his peace.

Then we learn of Thomas. He wasn’t there when Jesus originally showed up. He, unlike the others, had left the room. But fear still has some hold on him, because he is unable or unwilling to believe what the disciples and Mary Magdalene have reported: that Jesus has, in fact, risen from the dead.
It takes Jesus’ presence and Jesus’ peace, once again, to lead Thomas into a new place, into a place of trust and faith.

Fear is such a powerful force. It manifests in so many ways. Fear can make us selfish. Fear can make us silent. Fear can make us still, paralyzed from taking action.

We’re too afraid of being taken advantage of, so we refuse to make ourselves too vulnerable. We don’t give our money or resources away because of the tiniest of chances that they could be used in a way that we don’t approve of, or that could come back to hurt us, or leave us without enough to get by. How many times do we see someone hungry or asking for help and our first reaction is to wonder if they really need that money or if they really have kids at home?

We’re too afraid too afraid of what others might say about us, so we refuse to make a speak out against unjust systems or oppression. A theologian of the cross calls a thing what it is, but we all too often prevaricate or allow for “both sides” to have equal footing even in settings where there are really not two equivalent sides to a debate. How many times do we hedge around saying that a statement was racist, a policy is discriminatory, an airstrike unjust?

We’re too afraid of the scale at which the world hurts, so we refuse to move on anything. People are hungry. People need shelter. People are being killed. The earth is crying out. Waters are tainted. Diseases spread. Cancer develops. There is so much to do. How many times do we tell ourselves that our efforts are worth it because they won’t make any kind of difference?

This is what fear does. Fear exposes us to everything that has gone wrong and everything that could possibly go wrong and it convinces us that the best option we have is to lock ourselves away in a room. The best option we have is stay selfish and silent and still.

But God doesn’t let that be the end of the story. God, who is no stranger to fear, took on a symbol of horror in the cross and doesn’t let us be trapped and paralyzed by the fears of this world.

In the times we are most afraid, Jesus comes and meets us. In the places we lock ourselves away, Jesus enters in and greets us.

“Peace be with you.”

Jesus gives us peace.

Not just the absence of violence. Not just the quieting of inner turmoil. And not really the docile quiet imposed by a domineering oppressor.

This peace is shalom.

Biblical scholar Michael Joseph Brown explains it this way: He writes that the Jewish people “tended to use the term primarily for interpersonal or social relations, where it comes very close to meaning justice. When justice is done, it is seen as God’s gift to the people, and prosperity comes to the people when they live faithfully under the divine covenant.”[ii]

And so we understand that the peace Jesus gives alleviates and mitigates fear not by instantaneous magic, but by investing in community and by enabling others to invest in each other.

The disciples, after Jesus appears that first time in the house, they rejoice and share the news with Thomas when he arrives. We presume, from this point, that they are now engaged in the work of evangelism and discipleship, reengaging the community of Jesus believers that has been a bit scattered since the crucifixion.

Thomas holds himself somewhat apart. His fear did not keep him in the house, but it did keep him from believing what his friends had so excitedly reported to him. And so, when Jesus appears and gives him his peace, he is restored back in community with the other disciples and they can move forward.

Some of you know this, but for those of you who don’t, during the Easter Season, our first reading comes from the Book of Acts, instead of an Old Testament reading. It is a small sampling of scenes from the early church as it developed post-resurrection.

And it developed out of this peace that Jesus gives.

Going back to Dr. Browns explanation of peace, we see the fruit of this peace is justice and prosperity as they live in community with one another. Does that sound like anything you’ve heard recently?

“Now the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. With great power the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all. There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold. They laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need.” (Acts 4:32-35)

After his resurrection, Jesus brought this deep and abiding peace to his friends and disciples and some really incredible things happened. They supported one another, cared for one another, and managed, for a time at least, to not let their fear get in the way.

Eventually, it happened. Fear got the better of the Church. Fear still gets the better of the Church far more often than we’d like to admit, highlighting our foibles instead of our strengths.

But Jesus still meets us, greets us, offers us peace, embodied in one another, that can quiet that fear, sometimes for a brief moment, sometimes for long stretches. Peace that can embolden us to share when we want to be selfish, to speak up when it feels safer to be silent, and to step out in faith when it is easier to stand still.

Amen.

[i] https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/second-sunday-of-easter-2/commentary-on-john-2019-31-20

[ii] Ibid.

The Process of Breaking Bonds

Sermon preached Sunday, June 19, 2022, the Third Sunday after Pentecost, at Lutheran Church of Our Saviour in Chesterfield, VA.

Can you imagine what this man’s life must have been like?

We don’t know when his demonic possession began. We don’t know if he was a young boy or if it was a more recent development. What the text does tell us, however, is that he doesn’t wear clothes and that he doesn’t live as a real member of this community. Instead of a house, he lives in the tombs—and it doesn’t sound like this is a choice he has made for himself. Later, we learn that he is actually kept under guard, shackled up, to keep him from running off into the wilds.

That sounds awful, doesn’t it? And we might judge his community harshly for treating him this way. But I think, as misguided as they are, that they truly believe they are doing what’s best for him.

As soon as the demons leave the man, they enter the herd of swine and the pigs drown themselves. It’s possible, that with driving him out to the wilds, that the demons were trying to kill the man, as well. Maybe the community saw that. Maybe the community locked him up and kept a guard to keep him alive, to keep him from hurting himself or others—not just as a punishment. And, if that’s the case, then they were doing what they thought was right. It’s not excusing their behavior, but recognizing that they didn’t know what else to do.

Their attempts at help, however, didn’t do anything but keep him bound.

As I read this story this week, I couldn’t help but think about all the things in our society that we do, ostensibly to “help,” but that actually keep people bound, that keep people in cycles of sickness, or debt, or poverty.

I thought about predatory lending practices. You know, the ones that advertise how they can get you your paycheck days or weeks early, without clearly and obviously spelling out the monstrous interest that will have people paying that loan back for months, years, or the rest of their lives…if they don’t have to file for bankruptcy, that is.

And I thought about some charity practices that focus more on helping the person doing the action feel better than on what the person receiving actually needs. The most visible example of this I can think of is after natural disasters when communities are inundated with things people have chosen to donate…but not always what those affected could use at that time.

There is a story about the relief efforts in Honduras after a hurricane: desperately needed medical supplies where on their way in a cargo plane, but the plane couldn’t land because the tarmac was full of things that weren’t part of that initial, critical response, things like stuffed animals, bedding, and even expired food.[i] The intentions are wonderful. It is a beautiful, Christ-like impulse to want to help when others are hurting. But if we don’t take the time to stop and realize what is most helpful—in the case of natural disasters, usually money so that it can be directed precisely towards where it’s needed most!—we are keeping folks and organizations bound longer than they need to be.

And I also thought about they way that we respond to people who are unhoused. As a society, we’re decent at donating food, clothes, etc., especially those of us who call ourselves disciples of Christ. But if we are not listening to how people ended up on the streets, we are missing the big picture. If we are addressing only the symptoms (hunger, lack of shelter, hygiene, etc.) instead of also the causes (poverty, mental illness, addiction, lack of education and resources, unaffordable housing, etc.)…we are keeping people bound up in that unjust system

Jesus offers another way. Jesus breaks the chains.

Jesus takes time to see this man, and see the problem at the heart of it all: the demons. He asks their name. Martin Luther said, “A theologian of the cross calls the thing what it actually is.”[ii] And that’s because only by recognizing what something actually is, can we take steps forward to address it. That’s what Jesus does, gets to the name of the issue: Legion, these many demons who torment this man without rest. The running off into the wild and acting disruptive is merely the symptom.

Jesus talks to the man, finds of the name of the real problem…and then he addresses it.

Jesus casts out the demons and the man is freed. He no longer has to be chained up. He can rejoin his community. He can live in a house again, for crying out loud, instead of a tomb! His shackles have come off.

Siblings in Christ, what does this story mean for us?

Casting out demons doesn’t seem to be part of our daily lives, but there are implications here that do impact the way we want to live.

If we want to live as a disciples of Christ, how can we follow Jesus’ lead?

Let’s think about those three steps Jesus took:

First, talking to the man. It seems so simple that it shouldn’t have to be said but, well, there’s a reason I’m saying it! All too often we assume that we know what people need or what they want, without ever actually getting their input.

In a previous call, we had a disabilities ministry group that worked with young people with both developmental and intellectual disabilities. The first thing they taught me was that they could (and would!) tell me what they were able to do. I am reluctant to admit that I had assumptions about who would be capable or who would be willing to read, or acolyte, or even serve as assisting minister—and these assumptions were quickly proven wrong. Sure, there were some adjustments made here and there, but I learned to never presume to know what others needed.

By building relationships with them, they showed me what they were capable of and I’m sad to say, it was often more than I initially assumed. If I hadn’t taken the time to listen, I would have never known. They would have been excluded and the congregation would have lost out on being a full expression of the Body of Christ.

What did Jesus do after he listened? He got to the name of the real problem.

This is a tricky one, because it often involves much of our preconceived biases and can be skewed quite a bit by our world view.

Are there really good schools and bad schools? Or are there just schools with great funding that pay teachers well and have parents and caregivers who have time or money for extra help outside of school in the form of tutors when needed, and schools where teachers have to pay for most of their supplies out of pocket, classrooms are bursting at the seams, incomes are lower so parents and caregivers work more hours but still can’t afford tutors and older siblings have to provide childcare for younger ones?

Is there really an issue with people not wanting to buy or cook quality food? Or have we made “healthy food” such an idol that people feel pressured to by “fresh,” everything when frozen and canned produce can have very close nutritional profiles at often a fraction of the cost. And do we allow big companies to push out local grocery stores before marking up their own groceries, offering limited selection, and leaving communities in a food desert where it is very difficult to get the groceries you want.

Is it really just a given that 50% of people released from prison are incarcerated again because they just make poor choices? Or does our society set them up for failure by making it so hard for them to find jobs, by releasing them back where they were arrested with no support system other than the one that probably helped land them in jail in the first place, by providing few resources for mental health on the outside?

Do you see? It’s simple to point at results or symptoms and jump to conclusions about how we got here. It’s a lot of work and research and thought to figure out the heart of the matter. But only by doing that, can we start to make a difference.

And that’s step three. Jesus addresses that real problem.

And the “real problems” are usually systemic injustices presenting themselves in different ways. Lack of access to certain resources, prejudice, inadequate mental and physical healthcare. That’s what the demons are counting on. As long as the forces of sin and death can keep us focused on the minutiae, they’re safe. They want us to avoid talking about and addressing the systems that create these issues…but that’s not Jesus’ way.

When we leave here today, when we go about our lives, I encourage you to think like this when you encounter someone or some institution struggling. What do they have to say about it and how are they feeling? What’s the root of that struggle? What needs to be addressed to make a difference?

After all, it’s what Jesus would do.

Amen.

[i] https://www.npr.org/2013/01/09/168946170/thanks-but-no-thanks-when-post-disaster-donations-overwhelm

[ii] https://tollelege.net/2008/03/24/a-theologian-of-the-cross-calls-the-thing-what-it-actually-is-by-martin-luther/

The One Flock

Sermon preached Sunday, April 22, 2018, the Fourth Sunday of Easter, at St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church in Littlestown, Pennsylvania.

Today is what’s commonly referred to as “Good Shepherd” Sunday. Maybe you already figured that out. Jesus names himself as the Good Shepherd in the Gospel reading. Psalm 23, “The Lord is My Shepherd,” was read earlier.

Usually on this Sunday, there’s a lot of talk about how we, as people, are pretty sheep-like. Someone brings up how sheep are stupid; how they’re always getting lost. Sheep don’t have minds of their own. Sheep need someone to look after them, or else they’d never survive! Sheep appear to be pretty lousy creatures and we, as humans, are given likeness to them.

Some of it we—and sheep—deserve. We do get lost. We do need someone, especially our God, to look after us. But sheep are also much smarter than we give them credit for.

Frankly, I find the practice of focusing on the sheep in today’s Gospel to be a little unhelpful. After all, we call this “Good Shepherd” Sunday, not “Rotten Sheep” Sunday. So what happens if we shift the focus? What happens when we give our attention to the shepherd instead of the sheep?

Jesus is the Good Shepherd—he claims that title for himself—but why? Why does Jesus claim this designation?

The Good Shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.

The Good Shepherd knows his own and his own know him.

The Good Shepherd brings other sheep not yet in the fold.

The Good Shepherd has a voice that is listened to.

Today, the “shepherd” metaphor is not terribly prevalent. In ancient times, it served as a powerful symbol because it was part of the lifestyle. But now, here, we rarely use it in common conversation. Instead, it just doesn’t come up that often. This makes it a bit more difficult for us to understand what it means for Jesus to be our Shepherd. Maybe we need to dig a little deeper into the person Jesus describes:

“The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” The Good Shepherd gives us life by sacrificing his own.

The good shepherd knows his own and his own know him. The Good Shepherd knows us each by name. Through this shepherd we are claimed with the cross of Christ in the waters of baptism. Through this shepherd we have been reconciled to God.

The Good Shepherd brings other sheep not yet in the fold. The Good Shepherd offers abundant life to all and seeks to gather all people in together. The Good Shepherd is not limited to the four walls of our congregation here or any of the constraints we try to impose.

The Good Shepherd has a voice that is listened to. The Good Shepherd knows and calls each of us by name. We are given a vocation and a calling to live out as Christians.

And if this Good Shepherd is who Christ is—and these actions are what Christ does—then what is our response as sheep of this flock?

As I stated before, stereotypes about sheep are usually bad. They’re stupid, stubborn, not the most attractive animals out there. But even the most negative portrayals show us that sheep are herd animals. They thrive in community. At our best, we do the same.

I don’t mean to say that all of us enjoy being around lots of other people all the time. That’s obviously not the case! We have introverts and extroverts, people who get their energy and recharge their batteries in different ways—and even extroverts like occasional alone time and introverts can enjoy social gatherings! But when we are functioning in a healthy way, we are often connected to a community: a faith community, a work community, a civic community.

In a community, the best traits of individuals are highlighted. Since people with all sorts of different abilities and strengths are pooling their strengths, you can find the areas where your gifts are needed and where you can do your best and thrive.

In a community, your joy can multiply. When you have a birthday or anniversary, people are there to remind you over and over again that it is a special day, worthy of observance and celebration. When something great happens—a new job, a new child, a wedding—this community can gather around you and rejoice with you. There is support here that, as joyful things happen, the community will walk with you through it.

And that community will walk with your through the bad times, too. In a community, your sorrow can find a place to rest. Others’ shoulders can take on some of your burden to remind you that you are not alone. Tasks that you may no longer be able to do can be taken care of by the community. When it is time to pray and the only words you have for God are words of anger or hurt, the community can praise God for you and remind you of the promises God has made.

I think it is especially poignant that we celebrate this notion of community on Earth Day. Earth Day recognizes and celebrates our relationship to our planet: to the good creation God brought out of chaos and all parts of humanity which participate in it. In community, we are able to work towards clean water, unsullied air, and sustainable practices that benefit both the environment and the people who rely on it?

What are the communities you are involved in? What ecosystems connect you to creation, or you to your neighbor? Where do we see healthy communities around us? Is it when people come together after a natural disaster? When people from all walks of life join together to march or protest for social change? When people give time and energy to projects designed to improved the lives of everyone?

My sister, Katy, currently works as the Program Director for Health and Sustainable Development in the Global Mission Unit of the ELCA. Although it is hard for her to describe her job in a succinct way and although I still don’t know every little thing she does, her work takes her all around the world, working with our companion churches and local communities in efforts to improve health, access clean water, reduce hunger, develop housing, and more. Her most recent trip took her to Sierra Leone last week, visiting ELCA World Hunger projects and learning a lot from our companion churches.

This is the community God has called us to. Somehow, amazingly, we have these relationships that span the globe where we are connected by a common mission and inspired to serve and learn from one another.

As a Christian, from the perspective of someone who believes the Holy Spirit is always at work, I can only understand these communities being brought together by the grace of God. In my view, these communities are only created and given life because the Good Shepherd has brought them together—brought these people into the flock.

Today is Good Shepherd Sunday. The Good Shepherd who makes us one people, one community of people on this earth. The Good Shepherd who brings us together in one body, who feeds us with one meal of bread and wine, who washes us in one baptism.

Amen.