Familiar in the Unfamiliar

[The Angels ask Mary]:  “Woman, why are you weeping?”

[Mary] said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.”

When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus.

Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Who are you looking for?”

Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.”

Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (Which means Teacher).  John 20: 13b-16 (NRSV)

I was in my fifties before much of the significance of this scene started to really lay claim to my soul.  Every time I explore the scene again, it grows in power, its meaning sharpens a little more. 

Easter, 2018, finds me preaching from the Gospel of John and the extract above is part of the common reading for the day.  I will touch on other elements of the scene, but the center piece of the message is how Mary recognizes Jesus through the calling of her name.   

John in his beautiful writing style is looping back earlier in his Gospel where the Good Shepherd says about his sheep: "The sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out" (John 10:3). The Good Shepherd then adds, "I know my own and my own know me" (John 10:14).  Mary is part of his flock, so it should not be surprising that she recognizes the risen Christ when his voice is heard calling her name.

Mary is experiencing the familiar, Jesus, in an unfamiliar place, the garden outside the tomb. 

Because she is a member of Jesus flock, she recognizes Jesus through her called name. 

For Mary, here in this scene, it was the voice of Jesus calling her by name, making the unfamiliar, familiar.  Life is like that, we are able to live and survive in the unfamiliar because of the familiar. 

Sometimes, for some of us, the familiar is television, the older the better.  Remember the television series that started in 1983 and ran till 1992, about a bar in Boston, ‘where everybody knows your name:’ Cheer’s?  Our name is a powerful force to take us to familiarity even in a place of unfamiliarity.   

The familiar is often best understood, experienced, in community.  James Baldwin published in 1961 a collection of essays about the black experience in the United States, under the dark title Nobody Knows My Name.  Baldwin’s title suggests he is haunted by the absence of community, i.e. Nobody.  In comparing Baldwin’s essays with the Gospel of John with community one writer suggests:

When one's name is known and called, one is enfolded in community. When Mary's name was called by the risen Jesus, she was enfolded into the company of heaven, and she recognized the One who now lives directly within and from the life of God.

That is goosebump:  Jesus is calling Mary into the community of heaven.  In her case, it is a community of the faithful who encounter the risen Jesus.  At this moment in the John biblical narrative, it is a pretty exclusive community:  her.  Be not anxious:  It doesn’t stay that way. 

Do we understand, when Jesus calls us by name, it is a call to community? 

Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote:  “We must be ready to allow ourselves to be interrupted by God.”  Are you ready to be interrupted by God? 

Here’s the question: if Jesus calls you by name, would you recognize his voice?’  Here my Bonhoeffer twist is, ‘would you want to recognize his voice?’ 

An industrial size dose of candor would compel many, if not most, to admit we do not truly believe that Jesus will come to us in the garden and call us by name. 

If Jesus does, we will do everything in our power to pretend we don’t recognize the calling voice. 

For many, if not most, recognizing Jesus voice in the garden would scream out for immediate rejection.

Jesus is calling us to disconnect from the preferred familiar, and emerge in a reality so profoundly different, so totally unfamiliar, we cannot imagine it.

At least, we cannot imagine it, until Jesus calls us by name. 

It is important to place ourselves in spaces where we experience and affirm Jesus in our midst.  We do this in hearing “the body of Christ, broken for you”, in the scent of the oil from the candles, in the familiar sound of a favored hymn or anthem that stirs us in places too deep to be named, in the feel of the Bible given to us in love in a confirmation class fifty years ago.  Those are the familiars that help us to live in the unfamiliar and are part of how we hear the voice of Jesus calling our very names.  The unfamiliar includes the Rescue Mission of Salt Lake, staying overnight for Family Promise, or creating emergency buckets at the United Methodist Committee on Relief here in Salt Lake.

Easter comes, and then it comes, and then it comes again.  Easter in a familiar rhythm, sound, sights and smells.  However, from those familiars, we are called to serve, and that can make the familiar pretty unfamiliar. 

Are you familiar enough with the voice of Jesus to recognize him calling you by name, and if yes, is he calling you into the unfamiliar?  If so, listen.

Selah, Pastor Dennis

Children Make the Parent

“We all know that parents do not make children but that children make parents … Authentic parenting is one long sacrificial act … parenting reveals the way that sacrifice at once diminishes our life as we knew it … while at the same time revealing to us larger and infinitely more fascinating forms of life … Parents know experientially that the very process which makes them suffer also makes them grow.”

Luke Timothy Johnson, The Living Gospel

Luke Johnson is a New Testament Scholar at Candler School of Theology in Atlanta, Georgia.  Candler people I know in ministry speak highly of him. 

Right off, there are a few things with the quote that potentially give me pause.

Initially, I was not sure I would have said my life had been diminished by being a parent, even with the qualifying phrase “as we knew it” coming so quickly.  But try as I can, I am unable to wordsmith a better image of shrinking what we thought was important before we became parents.  It certainly has a way of changing our focus.  I told my children after the birth of their children that ‘your life will never be the same.’  My son in particular recently reminded me of that phrase and said it was so true. 

I also know using the above quote can be painful for some.  Parenting can have a mixed message; it can be a mine field in how we understand it or see it.  Some want to be parents, and have not realized this goal.  Others have had strained relations with their children, birth and adopted, feeling, as Johnson alludes to, they had sacrificed much but different than Johnson, for little appreciation. 

Life is so complicated at times. 

But, Luke Johnson is touching on an element of the Christian walk that too many of us try and avoid, or see as some kind of plague or curse:  suffering. 

It seems to me that whenever I read the word suffering, I hear in my brain this echo of Paul from Romans 5:
 

¹ Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, ² through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. ³ Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; ⁴ perseverance, character; and character, hope. ⁵ And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.  (NIV)

Paul writes:  “Glory in our sufferings.”  Paul is using glory as a verb which means to take pride or pleasure.  For sure I do not take pleasure in suffering.  For me, suffering might at times be a badge of honor that I wear, but I don’t think Paul means suffering by itself is the badge of honor.  Paul talks about it as part of life.  We are going to suffer, but that suffering leads to positive outcomes:  perseverance, character and hope.  Hope and the character that precedes it are the badges of honor.  Johnson means it the same way:  our suffering as a parent leads to changing us in positive ways.  We grow from the experience.  We are forever different.  Growth and a different outlook are for Johnson the badges of honor. 

We don’t have to experience or be near the actual physical birth pains of a human child in order to be a parent and be forever experientially changed as a result. 

We used the image of Hilltop as a parent when we were talking about a satellite campus growing into a fully identifiable separate church somewhere south and west of us.  We did so with intentionality thinking that being a parent in this sacrificial way, would help define us, in a positive way, as to who we are.  I really think that idea still has resonance and meaning.  Because we had one miscarriage, does not mean we should swear off parenting. 

I hear those who say:  ‘we aren’t ready yet’ and ‘we tried that last year and it didn’t work, let’s focus on Hilltop first.’  I concede there are elements of Hilltop life that needs strengthening. That is absolutely true.  I am not sure our miscarriage was entirely driven by lack of strength, but let’s talk.  What does need strengthening? 

Examples of things that need our continued attention are:  money, volunteerism, lack of universal engagement, aging infrastructure, a culture with a waning interest in Christianity in a post-Christendom world, and enthusiasm for the topic of parenting.  I could go on. 

But I still plan to persevere here in hopeful and hope producing leadership.  Here I think I am doing this in the tradition of Hilltop’s Saint:  the late Reverend James Cowell.  Jim was the pastor here at Hilltop from 1991 to 1997 and was the architect of Colorado Springs Sunrise United Methodist.  Being bold, creating church children from healthy parents was a core belief of Jim’s.  Core.  I am his ideological descendent. 

Like Cowell and Johnson, I think this image of Hilltop as a parent is critical to help define who we are as children of God. 

We should do this in order to produce a Pauline like ecclesial character that looks forward to hopeful outcomes. 

Suffering, and know that we are going to, isn’t embraced because it is pleasurable, but rather look at how so many who have been able to be parents have had their very lives changed by that process. 

In the early 1900s a phrase emerged:  What would Jesus Do?  We see it abbreviated as WWJD.  Well, at Hilltop for sure, what about maybe WWJ²D.  Jesus and Jim – or J Squared. J Cubed if we add Johnson?   

It is time to start the conversation again. 

God doesn’t call us to small tasks. 

How do we strengthen Mother Hilltop so that she is capable of nurturing new life? 

How do we get started on this soon? 

Selah, Pastor Dennis