A sermon on Ephesians 4:25-5:2 and John 6:35, 41-51 for the Eleventh Sunday of Pentecost; guest preacher: Brian Porto

…I genuinely believe that God never abandons us. I do truly believe that God’s love is unconditional. But I can’t help but wonder if we’ve fallen so far that God can’t stand to face us until we completely and sincerely begin working to make this earth as is in heaven…

…instead of focusing on why David acted this way, I want to focus on the woman who had everything taken away from her—what little agency or independence she had; her husband; her voice was taken away. I want to give a voice to Bathsheba…

…and so, on this first Sunday back in the sanctuary after a year and a half of being in COVID-exile, this sermon is about how this church can’t contain God. This church isn’t for God. This church is for us. And that’s okay…

…we should be able to feel some hope that even in this time in which the monied few have more power than ever, as the gap between the haves and the have-nots continues to grow, that we still have the power to demand a just world for all…

David is such a powerful figure and such a good leader because he recognizes that those who bleed are strong and understanding…

…we can learn from David, we can find hope in the story of David. Because in this story, David never has any second thoughts, because he’s never comparing himself to Goliath, or to Saul. He embraces his nature as a small but fiercely protective and faithful person. He embraces the skills he’s acquired as a shepherd. He never tries to be anything he’s not…

Now, it’s easy to write a sweet, touchy-feely sermon about not judging a book by its cover. But this passage, this story is about so much more than that. It’s about working to change our concept of what is moral, of what is right. It’s about changing our preconceived notions about what makes a good leader or even simply a good person…

…This is what fear can do. It can make us desperate, it can make us lose ourselves, can make us lose our identity. And this kind of fear, this desperation, I believe, is what led the Israelites in this passage to making an ill-informed decision that would go against everything right and just…

But more than being purified, he’s given a voice. It’s no wonder that the first thing Isaiah does with this new voice is exclaim “Here I am! Send me!” The grace and love of God give Isaiah this voice. He realizes that he is worthy to speak truth in the world, to speak truth to power…

But truly, what is so funny about this? What’s so funny about people being moved to communicate with one another? What’s so funny about people making an effort to truly understand their neighbor? What is so funny about understanding?

I’m really struggling with this—because on one hand, this is extremely relevant for today, in that it’s more crucial than ever that we trust people who are experts in their respective fields, those whose priority is the well-being of humankind, or the well-being of this planet, or whose priority is the well-being of our fair democracy. But on the other hand, in this post-truth world, it’s easy to throw up our hands and say what’s the point?

This is evangelizing—it’s paying attention to what’s speaking to someone, what’s giving someone hope, what’s touching someone’s heart and working with them from that point. It’s making sure not to force your own baggage to beliefs or interpretations onto someone. It’s about meeting someone where they are without judgement…

Zacchaeus, on the other hand, is a changed man. He says:  “Look, half of my possessions, Lord, I will give to the poor, and if I have defrauded anyone of anything, I will pay back four times as much.” This is 400% restitution. In Judaic law, normal restitution added only 20%. Numbers 5:7 says “ the person shall make full restitution for the wrong, adding one-fifth to it and giving it to the one who was wronged.” Twenty per cent, in today’s standards, is equivalent to a good tip for waitstaff in a restaurant, but 400%? This rich man, touched by Jesus, responds with faith and opens up his wealth to be shared. His heart is in the right place. He has gained access to God’s grace…

Our voices have power, Church. Our voices have the most power when we allow the Holy Spirit to fill us, when we allow the Holy Spirit to guide us to do the work of compassion that Jesus commands of us…

…our traumas and our sins and our tragedies are a part of us we cannot forget. This was true for Jesus—the marks on his hands and feet and in his side, they did not go away when he rose. This is true for us, and our own personal stories—our history, no matter how much we want to forget some of it, it shapes us, it makes us who we are, for better and for worse. And this goes for this country, and all the economic and humanitarian crimes this country has committed, all the crises and momentous events it has successfully weathered throughout the centuries. We can’t whitewash over the hard things and pretend they never happened. We have to face them and move forward and work so that this violence won’t continue happening….

…so I wonder if Thomas’ reaction is less one of a contrarian skeptic, and more one of someone who’s so upset he missed out on the experience of a lifetime, he has kind of knee-jerk reaction, out of some anger, some jealousy that he missed out. Instead of being able to celebrate with his friends, he’s so upset he missed seeing his risen savior, that he stubbornly insists, ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.’ Sort of an ancient Biblical version of the modern-day internet saying, “Pics or it didn’t happen.”

…Mary is chosen to announce to the world, I have seen the Lord. Yes, Mary saw the Lord, but the Lord also saw her. The Lord saw her in her time of need and revealed himself. The Lord saw her in her time of isolation and confusion and said her name…

It’s fitting, Church, that for this Palm Sunday the scripture reading is the Marcan version of Jesus’ triumphant entrance into Jerusalem. It’s fitting, I think, because Mark’s version of this story, as compared to the other three is much more subdued, much more subtle—it’s overall, not especially triumphant…

Church, when Jesus says “…when I am lifted up from the earth, [I] will draw all people to myself.’ That all there is from a genderless Greek word. When Jesus says all, he means all. Every single person. We are all saved, we are all going be okay. But in this world, even after everything Jesus went through to overcome hatred, violence, and death, in this world, things are too broken for Jesus’ death and resurrection to have the meaning it’s supposed to….