Sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Easter

To be preached at St. John Lancaster 21 Apr 2013

Psalm 23
Acts 9:36-43
Revelation 7:9-17
John 10:22-31

Today’s Propers are wonderfully comforting, and they bring the joy of the Easter season clearly into focus. The first lesson speaks of how St. Peter went to the house of Tabitha, or Dorcas in Joppa, just outside the modern Tel Aviv. She was a good woman and what one might call a “pillar of the Church thereabouts.” She had grown sick and died, and Apostle Peter prayed for her and God raised her from the dead. The Twenty Third Psalm is perhaps the most beloved of all the Psalms, and it assures us of God’s love for us. The passage from Revelation ushers us into the very throne room of God, and our hearts stir within us to read of the glory that is and which we shall one day see in heaven. The account from St. John’s Gospel assures us that God’s will for each of us is eternal life, and that Jesus actively works to preserve us in the face of evil and temptation. But there is a deeper aspect of today’s lessons which show us an even more profound revelation of the Easter message. Surely the Easter message is one of restoration and of glory, of love and of deliverance, of resurrection and life; but it is also an acknowledgement that we as Christians have no reason or right to expect that we will be spared the difficulties and vicissitudes of this life. We are not spared, rather we are given the strength to triumph. Even one so holy and good and true as Dorcas died. The Shepherd’s Psalm makes it abundantly clear that we will all walk through “the valley of the shadow of death.” The blessed scene of the heavenly court is given a more serious tone when we realize that all of those who praise God were killed for their faith in their earthly life. And the blessedness which is the assurance of today’s Gospel lesson takes on an almost sinister tone when we read the verse which follows, “Eb’astasan p’alin l’ithous oi I’oudaioi hina lith’asosin.” Literally, “Lifted again stones the Jews that they might stone him.”

You see, the Easter message assures us that God has met our needs and provides us a way to be reconciled to him, forgiven of our sins, strengthened in need, assured of salvation, and empowered for living. But the Easter message never, ever implies that we will escape the difficulties and evils which are so much a part of the human experience. Most of us have probably asked the question at one time or another, “How could a loving God let such a thing happen?” All of us have prayed, as did Jesus, that we might be delivered from the time of evil. I remember ever so clearly when Tristan deployed the second time to Afghanistan praying that he would come home safely. In the midst of my prayers, it occurred to me that many other parents prayed for their sons as well. Tristan came home, not safely, but home and alive. Some others did not. I remember questioning whether my prayer had been the right prayer. Should I have prayed only that God would give him strength and courage, and help him to be a good man and true? Why did my son come home at all when so many did not? I cannot believe that the people praying for those others were somehow further away from God or that he did not hear their prayers. It was all so academic until one of my own was in harm’s way, and then it became more real than I ever imagined it could be.

One of the outgrowths of my dark thoughts about the very real problem of evil in our lives is that while we mean well, many times our theology, what we believe about God, is not based on the Bible or the teachings of Our Holy Mother the Church, but rather on sentimental imaginings that grow out of our deepest fears and inmost desires. Since I can’t bear the idea that my son could be shot and killed, I claim his safety boldly before the presence of a God whom I temporarily conceive to be less than almighty or sovereign- a God whom I expect to submit to my demands. And I back it all up by plucking some scripture out of context or changing its clear understanding. If I do this long enough, and with sincerity, I jettison the God of Scripture and come to trust in a designer god who makes me very comfortable when times are good, but whom I blame for turning his back on me when things go wrong. My own sentiment replaces the teaching of the Church, and I become the person Jean Jacques Rousseau was talking about when he quipped that so many people obviously love God so much, because they are always remaking him in their own image.

And so we have people today who misinterpret the books of Daniel and Revelation to say that all Christians will be taken out of the world before the “great tribulation” occurs. I ask in humility, “When has God ever taken Christians out of tribulation?” We have others who loudly lament the lack of concern that God seemingly has for their suffering, and either stay in the body of believers to receive the misinformed and malformed sympathy of the congregation, or depart from the sacraments and the ark of safety to wallow in their despair… all because they only read half of today’s propers, the half which spoke of deliverance and power and glory.

How much better it would have been if, instead of developing their concept of God from popular music and movies, or from their own feelings and fears, they had submitted to the clear teachings of God manifested in the Scriptures and the Church. Their theology might not have been as dramatic or as pretty, but it would have acknowledged the fact that bad things do happen to good people, because in this world, the adversary of our souls prowls about, seeking whom he may destroy. They would have understood that angels are not the plump cherubs of Greek mythology, but the armour clad messengers of God, more like the warriors on an Orthodox Iconostasis than the playful romantics on a Valentine’s Day card. They would at least have had some inkling of what Jesus meant when he said “take up your cross and follow me.”

Good theology is important because it ruthlessly strips away our excuses and our druthers and brings us to terms with the realities of life and eternity. It is so easy to construct a god with whom we can be comfortable, but such a god will always fail us because, at the end of the day, it is just another idol. The true God is a God of loving strength, and of merciful accountability. He calls us to the hope of heaven and to find his strength in this life. He comes to us as the Resurrected Christ and the Spirit who rests upon us. He is all powerful, and full of understanding, and has a plan for each of our lives. But it is not a plan that we can expect to be easy or that will separate us from the suffering and pain that is a part of this human experience. He does not remove us from difficulty, but he stands shoulder to shoulder with us in the darkest days of our lives. He gives us a new appreciation for reality, and writes on our hearts a hope and an optimism that by his grace can face the darkest night. Because we know that joy cometh in the morning.

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!

The Lord is Risen Indeed!

AMEN.

And now, this is a very important day. Joanna Carr has been preparing for her first communion with her classmates at St. John’s School in Logan. She has worked hard to learn about God and Jesus and the Church. Her teachers and her parents are satisfied that she understands what it means to be baptized and to live as a Christian. And so, Joanna, today we welcome you to the Lord’s table to receive the body and blood of Jesus. May God bless you, and help you to feel the love and happiness of being a Christian today, and may this be the first of many Communions for you. Remember that when you take Communion, God comes to you in a very special way to make you strong and to let you know how much he loves you. Wherever you go, and whatever you do, always take Communion when you have the chance, and God will bless you and give you strength. I’m glad you are here with us today to make your first Communion.

(Sing Doxology)