Pastor Wilbert Miller’s Sermon
“Jesus Comes to Thomas, Amelia Rose, and Us”
John 20: 19-31
April 23, 2017 (2nd Sunday of Easter)
Thomas is often called “Doubting Thomas.” Unfortunately, claiming that Thomas doubted Jesus’ resurrection appearance to the disciples probably plays a bit fast and loose with the whole truth about him.
Thomas was absent the evening of the resurrection when Jesus appeared to the other ten. It is easy to ridicule him for saying, “Unless I see in his hands the print of the nails, and place my finger in the mark of the nails, and place my hand in his side, I will not believe”—easy to ridicule Thomas but hardly fair. Thomas didn’t so much doubt as demand proof that Jesus had actually appeared to the disciples. Is someone so terrible just because they want proof of what is impossible to believe?
It is easy to forget the whole story about Thomas. Thomas was the one who said of Jesus, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” That was a whiff of courage on Thomas’ part as Jesus drew dangerously close to Jerusalem where he would soon die.
Thomas also asked the tough questions when others felt too shy or too silly to do so. When Jesus was with the disciples at the Last Supper, he spoke to them about going to his Father’s house. Thomas was courageous enough to ask the question on everyone’s mind: “Lord, we do not know where you are going; how can we know the way?” Yet again, Thomas demonstrated honesty not doubt. He wanted to know what in the world was up.
While we know the nickname, “Doubting Thomas,” we probably are not as familiar with his other moniker, “The Twin.” The Bible gives no indication who Thomas’ twin was but I like Frederick Buechner’s suggestion: “If you want to know who the other twin is, I can tell you. I am the other twin, and unless I miss my guess, so are you.”
Aren’t we all Thomas’ twin: we soar to courageous heights and then promptly plummet to cowardly lows.
Many of us find it easy to criticize folks like Thomas. We have the time of our lives at parties mimicking their quirks and mocking their shortcomings. Everyone slaps their knees in riotous laughter at our hilarious barbs. But, Jesus never joins our catty conversations. He always removes himself from such sarcastic goings-on; he is always so understanding of those who come up short of our so-called “exacting standards.”
Jesus could have easily lambasted every, single disciple. They repeatedly demonstrated failure of nerve and revealed all manner of double-dealing behavior. Jesus could have hollered, “Shame on you all.” But on that first Easter evening, when Thomas was absent, Jesus came and stood among the ten disciples and said, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, even so I send you.” Remarkable when you think about it: not a single word of rebuke.
Eight days later, Thomas was in the house. The doors were shut and, somehow, again, Jesus made it through and stood among them. And, once again, Jesus said, “Peace be with you,” and once again, there was no ferocious scolding. The disciples watched closely to see how Jesus would respond to Thomas’ demand to see his wounds before he believed. Astonishingly, Jesus was the essence of grace; he drew so close to Thomas and lovingly said to him, “Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side…”
Jesus, of course, had already died on the cross, already forgiven each of them with arms outstretched. Now, yet again, he showered them with love. There was no need to say, “Shame on you!”
There is another interesting detail in this story. Though he was risen, Jesus still had wounds in his hands and his side. I can’t figure out why Jesus still had the crucifixion wounds—he was risen after all—but let me take a guess.
We bear our wounds and imperfections, too, and you have noticed, I’m sure, we still are called the body of Christ. Why doesn’t God call perfect people to do ministry in this world? Why not brilliant people who can offer perfect answers to the most difficult questions of life? Why not people who never stumble? Why does God call us with all our failures and crashes?
In a few moments, we will baptize Amelia Rose von Bargen. Now, admittedly, from her parents and grandparents’ vantage point, she is a tiny bundle of perfection. But, come on mom and dad, grandma and grandpa, we know better. Little Amelia Rose had barely entered this world before she screamed up a storm. “Drop everything and feed me,” she shrieked the best she was able. God did not say, “Shame on you, Amelia Rose, for demanding such special attention.” Instead, God brings her, this morning, to the center of the universe; with the words “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit,” she becomes Jesus’ precious sister and ours as well. We have no idea why God does this except for love’s sake.
I have a hunch Amelia Rose will be much like Thomas. Who knows whether she will scream or laugh or be quiet and mellow as the baptismal water is poured over her head in a few moments? As she grows older, I’ll bet she will have moments that will delight mom and dad and others that will exasperate them. Whatever happens, all the while, you must remember, she is a treasured child of God.
I have no idea why Jesus still bore the wounds after he rose from the dead. I wish everything had been perfect, don’t you? Maybe it was. Maybe Jesus was showing us that he could bear our sorrows, disappointments, and failures even when we shout bloody murder because the world does not revolve around us.
Jesus is here today, yet again, this time with us, wounds and all, in the water spilled over Amelia Rose and in the meal of bread and wine.
We will not hear a single, “Shame on you.” Instead, Jesus will say, “Peace be with you.”
And hearing that, we will shout, “Alleluia! Christ is risen!”
Pastor Wilbert Miller’s Sermon
“Look Whom Jesus Is with at the Jordan!”
Matthew 3: 13-17
Baptism of Our Lord (January 8, 2017)
Evangelical Lutheran Church of the Holy Trinity-Manhattan
Today, as water crashes over us and we are dripping from our baptismal remembrance, we celebrate the Baptism of Our Lord, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
In the spirit of celebration, let’s roll the film.
See John the Baptist out in the middle of the Jordan River, about three feet deep, in a white shirt, skinny black tie, and rubber hip waders amidst a motley crowd of riff-raff. Watch him thrust them under the water and wash away their sins.
And, goodness gracious, there stands Jesus, right at water’s edge! Can you believe your eyes? He’s there with the double-crossing camel dealer, the flamboyant drag queen, the corporate executive convicted of bilking clients of millions, and that floozy neighbor constantly getting thrown into the county drunk tank—how dare he get so close to them!
Okay, let’s stop the film for a second and catch our breath…
Didn’t you always think Jesus is God’s son? Why in the world is he hanging out with such a notorious crowd of lowlifes?
Let the film continue.
Do you notice there are also some modest and holy looking folks in line to be baptized? They appear to be nervously quivering, churning with doubt and silently rotting away at the core; their sins are tucked far back in the furthest reaches of their bedroom closet, hidden under extra bedsheets and grandma’s old comforter, out of sight from devout company; they are fearful someone will find out.
Look closely at water-logged John. Do you notice how he keeps glancing out of the corner of his eye? He appears to have spotted his cousin Jesus standing in line for baptism—see how John trembles! Listen carefully; can you hear him: “Why in God’s name is Jesus here? Why does he want to be baptized? He is God’s Son, the sinless one. I need to be baptized by him!”
Now, we can get all misty-eyed about this, but let’s not kid ourselves. Jesus’ baptism has not always been an occasion for celebration. His presence with such a horde of sinners has embarrassed the church down through the ages, actually, to be more precise, it has horrified the church.
One of our finest Lutheran liturgical scholars, Gordon Lathrop, suggests that Jesus’ baptism was actually not about his becoming pure for our sake but rather becoming dirty for us. How can God’s son become dirty? you ask. He gets dirty the very same way this precious little thing born in Bethlehem ended up dying the filthiest death imaginable, in love for all his brothers and sisters, on the cross at Calvary.
While we celebrate Jesus’ baptism this morning, truth be told, if we are not also appalled and fuming, we likely have not quite grasped how deeply God’s grace runs for us.
When I mentioned a bit earlier who Jesus was in line with—drag queens, painted ladies, Ponzi schemers—my hunch is that most of you smiled and poked someone in the side. There is, after all, a quaint delight in seeing Jesus with such company—it makes our open-minded Upper West Side hearts quiver in delight. But I want to up the ante to explore just how open we really are to God’s grace.
I must tell you in advance, what I am about to say comes with no small amount of fear and trembling; I really do fear that I may offend some of you and cause you deep anger. If that occurs, I beg you in advance, please forgive me.
Let the film roll and let’s locate Jesus once again. Now look carefully. Do you notice that he has his arm around a gangly young white guy with a weird bowl hair cut? That can’t be Dylann Roof, can it, the same Dylann Roof who attended a Bible study at historic Mother Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina, a year and a half ago and brutally murdered nine parishioners? Even after family members said, “I forgive you, my family forgives you,” Dylann Roof wrote, “I would like to make it crystal clear I do not regret what I did. I am not sorry. I have not shed a tear for the innocent people I killed.”
Listen, listen…I think you can just make out the conversation Jesus is having with Dylann, “Dylann, dear brother, it is never too late to repent.”
While the film is stopped momentarily, let me remind us all, in case we have forgotten, that Dylann Roof’s family are members of one of our Evangelical Lutheran Church in America congregations and that two of the African American pastors murdered that evening, Rev. Clementa Pinckney and the Rev. Daniel Simmons, graduated from our Lutheran Theological Southern Seminary in Columbia, South Carolina?
Jesus standing at Dylann Roof’s side…He can’t possibly be doing that, can he?
As you know, the penalty phase of Dylann Roof’s trial is now in session. Should he be executed? Are there ever any of God’s children in line with Jesus who should be executed, who are unloved by God? Said another way, how dare we cut short the life of anyone whom Jesus loves?
As I think I mentioned, Jesus’ baptism inevitably scandalizes polite company. Grace is messy; it can be numbing, sickening, and offensive. That’s why we now start the film rolling again. Watch as Jesus slips and slides up out of the muddy river, dripping wet from head to toe. Listen carefully as God proudly proclaims from on high, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”
There is something about Jesus’ willingness to stand in line at the Jordan and submit to this baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins that pleases God and horrifies us.
Look one final time as the film nears completion. Are you surprised to catch sight of yourself standing there at the Jordan? Sometimes, it is almost impossible to believe the words of that old hymn:
“There’s a wideness in God’s mercy,
like the wideness of the sea…
For the love of God is broader
than the measures of the mind.
And the heart of the Eternal
is most wonderfully kind.”
What a thrill to hear the water crashing and to celebrate God’s amazing grace for this terribly mixed up world…and for us, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Twenty-second Sunday after Pentecost-October 16, 2016
Mass – 11 o’clock in the morning
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Pastor Miller’s Sermon: “Yahweh Jumps Jacob at the Jabbok”