And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Amen.
The Fourth Sunday of Easter, May 8, 2022
Acts 9:36-43 • Psalm 23 • Revelation 7:9-17 • John 10:22-30
Let’s have a recap of the news this week. Here are a few headlines that have jumped out at me:
“Ukrainian humanitarian workers shelled by Russian troops as they evacuate children from Mariupol hospital”
“Florida Governor declares “rightful” winner of the NCAA 500 meter freestyle to be second place holder over verified Trans winner”
“Lake Mead is 143 feet below its full point” ... that is as tall as the Statue of Liberty.
“May kicks off the most violent year in a decade: 210 mass shootings in the United States since January 1.”
And of course, “Conservative Supreme Court Justices poised to overturn Roe v Wade, according to leaked document”
Are you weeping yet? On a week like this, even at my most optimistic, I begin to wonder, where is God? Where is this deliverance, this salvation we’ve been waiting for, hearing about, planning for?
This was the question that Jesus was being asked by his fellow Jews as he was walking through Jerusalem. Today’s Gospel from John appears out of order. We’ve been reading for three weeks about Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances from the end of the Gospel of John, and now here we are right in the middle of Jesus’ ministry. He’s alive (for the first time), and for some time now, he’s been crossing the country, from the cities to the countryside, telling people that there is a new path, a glimmer on the horizon - salvation is at hand.
The people to whom Jesus is ministering have not had to see him be executed and then experienced the strangeness around his rising yet. To these people, their teacher has been telling them that he is their deliverer, and it’s a message they want to believe!
Their lives are difficult ones. First century Palestine for Jews is a time and place that sits in a triple trap of oppression: Rome is everywhere, soldiers to keep the order and tax collectors to extract wealth; Herod is everywhere, using a network of spies and favors to keep his people in subdued and taxes flowing into his building spree; the temple authorities are everywhere, controlling the daily lives of people through a system of payments and rituals that further squeeze production from them. None of the institutions overseeing them are there to protect them; rather they exist to protect themselves.
The people want a deliverer, someone who will make a difference. And they’re growing tired of Jesus’ parables and what they perceive as vague answers.
“Jesus,” they whine, “why won’t you come right out with it? Are you the Messiah?”
With a deep sigh Jesus answers “I’ve told you. I’ve done miracles. You don’t believe me.”
As readers of the story, it seems obvious to us, but what is it that keeps his followers from seeing and believing that Jesus really is who he says he is?
The most obvious answer is because he doesn’t answer the question in the way they are hoping he will.
“Are you the king, Jesus?”
“Well, I could be, but I won’t have a kingdom in the sense that you know it.”
“Are you the Messiah, Jesus?”
“Well, I am, but to follow me, you’re going to have to change the way you think about following the law.”
“Are you the Son of God, Jesus?”
“You say that I am. I am one with the Father.”
If I am hearing what Jesus is saying and I am looking for a King, a Messiah, a God, then I am disappointed in his answers. What they want is the fantasy they have created, the narrative that will provide them the deliverance they seek from the immediate suffering they are feeling.
Twenty-one centuries later, are we so different?
If Jesus came pedaling these same solutions to the problems we are facing in our lives, how would we feel about them? Would we be as exasperated as the Jews were with Jesus? Because the same holds true now.
Congress isn’t suddenly going to pass gun control measures. Joe Biden isn’t going to forgive student loans. The Supreme Court doesn’t seem to be in the business of upholding human rights any longer. Corporations are not going to stop pumping poison into our atmosphere. We are in the same bind as our First-Century Palestinian siblings - the institutions that are here to protect us are failing to do so.
In fact, given the receding waters, burning forests, the march of war all around us, it’s feeling a bit like the Book of Revelations these days! Are those the four horsemen coming down the street?
But here is what we have on the people described in John’s tenth chapter. We’ve read the rest of the book. We know what happens.
Is Jesus a king? Yes, and the kingdom of God is all around us, most evident when we are functioning at our best, helping our neighbors, serving others.
Is Jesus the Messiah? Yes, and to follow him we have to act against our nature, go against our culture, develop compassion, walk with the outcast.
Is Jesus the Son of God? Well, your preacher isn’t certain about that one, but here’s what I do know - following Jesus gets us close to the relationship of love that God desires for us, brings us more deeply into the loving and beloved people we were created to be.
But this is also what I know.
Are you the king? We, each of us, are the rulers of God’s reign, bringing our own message, in our own words to those who need it. When we reach out to help those in need, when we march against oppression, when we lift up those who have been cast down, we act with the nobility given to us by our anointing at Baptism.
Are you a deliverer? We, each of us, are here to deliver the world from its wickedness, to stand in defiance of those who would bring darkness to the world. We are the light, the salt, the city on a hill, the place of refuge.
Are you a child of God? Your preacher is certain about this: and the answer is yes! By your Baptism, by your Creation, by the dignity granted to you by Grace, you are a child of God. And on those days when others would deny your birthright and your branch on God’s great family tree, you stand up, name yourself, claim your place. You are loved. You are love itself.
You have been through, will go through, are going through the Great Ordeal. Our humanity, our patience, our optimism, our spirit is being tested. But we know how the story will end, and it ends well, even if it doesn’t end the way we hope it will in the time we want it to.
And God will wipe away every tear from your eyes. Amen.