Pip: If you have ever wondered what it looks like when Easter refuses to stay in the past tense, you have come to the right podcast.
Mara: This episode draws on a stretch of recent sermons from Reverend Dr. Karen Crawford, covering resurrection hope and what it means to be living stones, the shepherd’s voice and the unity Christ prays for, and what the Spirit’s arrival on Pentecost still demands of ordinary people.
Pip: Let’s start with the Easter season itself, and the question of what God’s people are actually being built into.
Resurrection And Post-Easter Hope
Mara: The sermons in this stretch keep pressing the same question: what does resurrection mean for people living right now, not just for those waiting on the other side of death?
Pip: And the answer in What Can Living Stones Do? is that Christ is preparing a place not just in some future heaven but among his people, today. The passage from John 14 gets reframed entirely: “When the Lord talks about preparing a place, I think he’s talking about a place for all of us to live and love and labor together for the Kingdom, now and forever.”
Mara: So the upshot is that the community itself is the dwelling place Christ is building. Drawing on First Peter alongside John, the sermon describes believers as living stones being fitted together with Christ as cornerstone into a spiritual house.
Pip: Stones that, the sermon is quick to point out, never stop growing or being shaped. There is something quietly demanding about that image.
Mara: The personal stakes sharpen that demand. The sermon recounts a medical emergency the night before it was preached, a husband bleeding through his bandages after surgery, hours in the emergency room. The miracle named is not that the bleeding stopped, but that peace arrived anyway, carried by the prayers of the congregation.
Pip: Which is exactly what a living stone does, apparently.
Mara:Wounded Healer takes the same territory from a different angle, meditating on the risen Christ who keeps his scars. The sermon quotes Henri Nouwen: “Jesus has given this story a new fullness by making his own broken body the way to health, liberation, and new life.”
Mara: And What About Mary? rounds out the season by sitting with Ascension Sunday and asking what Mary herself witnessed and carried. Luke’s brief three-verse account becomes an opening onto the Spirit still being sent, still clothing followers with power to go and bear witness.
Pip: Three sermons, one arc: resurrection is not a conclusion. It is an ongoing address.
Mara: That ongoing address raises its own question about who hears it and how, which is where the next theme begins.
Unity, Voice, And Belonging
Mara: The sermons here turn to the mechanics of belonging: how the shepherd’s voice reaches scattered sheep, and what Christ actually prays for on the night before he dies.
Pip:My Sheep Hear My Voice opens with a visit to a cousin’s farm in Northern Ireland, watching a shy farmer call his flock in their own language. The promise carried back from that field is this: “He allows us to recognize his voice amidst the many voices and sounds that surround us in our busy lives.”
Mara: What makes that promise weighty is the context. The trip nearly unraveled. A host said the timing was wrong. Decades of family estrangement sat in the background. By the end, reconciliation had quietly happened, and the sermon reads that as the Spirit working through a plan larger than anyone had mapped.
Pip: And then That They May Be One takes Christ’s prayer in John 17 and names the three things Jesus actually asks for: protection, unity, and joy. Unity, the sermon is careful to say, is not our achievement. It is what happens when people pray together with and for one another.
Mara: Florence Nightingale threads through that sermon as an extended example of what it looks like when someone answers a calling the world says is beneath them and ends up restructuring entire institutions through humble, persistent work.
Pip: From a farm in County Down to the Crimean War. The Spirit, it turns out, does not limit its range.
Mara: That range is exactly what Pentecost names directly.
Pentecost And The Spirit’s Call
Mara:Everyone! takes its title from the one word Joel and Peter refuse to qualify. The sermon sets up the Pentecost scene and then lands the line without softening it: “EVERYONE who calls upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.”
Pip: No expiration dates. No exclusions. The sermon actually compares the fine print on store coupons to what is conspicuously absent from the gospel offer.
Mara: The sermon also traces Presbyterian history on Long Island from 1675 forward, including the Old School and New School split over slavery and the long road to reunion in 1983, as a way of showing that the Spirit keeps working through a church that keeps fracturing and, somehow, keeps being made one again.
Pip: Ordinary people. Extraordinary acts. The Spirit’s record, apparently, is unbothered by the institution’s.
Mara: Living stones, a shepherd’s voice, a flame that lands on everyone at once. The thread across all of it is that the Kingdom is not coming. It is already here, already at work.
Pip: Which means the only real question left is the one the sermons keep asking: what will we do with it? Same time next week.
I was at our presbytery offices in West Islip this week for a General Assembly training. I am one of two ministers of Word and Sacrament commissioned by the presbytery to go to GA in Milwaukee at the end of June, along with two elders and a Young Adult Advisory Delegate. As I was preparing to leave the presbytery offices, I couldn’t help but wonder about the beginnings of Presbyterian Christianity here on Long Island. How did we come to be the people we are today, still led by the Spirit? I left the offices with two slim books—the 1963 Religious History of Long Island and the other a tiny blue presbytery manual and directory from 1931.
Smithtown is one of 13 churches to be members of what is now the Presbytery of Long Island at its organization in 1790: Newtown, Huntington, Hempstead, Jamaica, Smithtown, Brookhaven (Setauket), South Haven, Bridgehampton, West Hampton, Southampton, East Hampton, Aquebogue (Jamesport), and Mattituck. We had been reluctant to give up our Congregationalist leanings and wait until 1749 to join its predecessor—the Suffolk Presbytery, formed in 1717 by the churches of Jamaica, Newtown, Southhampton, and Setauket. Perhaps we are persuaded by our long relationship with Setauket, with whom we share our first and second ministers, Reverend Nathaniel Brewster and Reverend George Phillips. Or maybe it is because we are in a time of uncomfortable transition, in-between pastors, once again, that we decide to embrace Presbyterianism.
Within a year following our application to join the presbytery, we dismantle our old meeting house and move it from its original location, a frontier settlement at the intersection of Moriches and River roads. We reassemble the building at its present location on land given by Obadiah and Epenetus Smith. By September 1751, we are able to call our next pastor—the Rev. Napthali Dagget. But he leaves the church 4 years later for lack of financial support. It isn’t until 1763 when we are able to invite a Yale grad, the Rev. Thomas Lewis of Fairfield, CT, to serve as our minister. And then the American Revolution comes along; the British occupy the Island. Presbyterian churches are desecrated. From 1775 to 1784, the Presbytery of Suffolk is prevented from meeting.
Following the Revolution, the Presbyterian church is one of a number of denominations that organizes on a national basis. The General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church (USA) is organized on May 21,1789, in the Second Presbyterian Church of Philadelphia as “The General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church in the United States of America.” The Rev. John Witherspoon, the only active member to sign the Declaration of Independence, is the first presiding officer and preaches the sermon at the opening service of worship. While the General Assembly meets in Philadelphia, the first United States Congress to convene under the new Constitution is also in session in the same city!
The early 1800s sees revivalism in Presbyterian churches under leaders such as abolitionist Lyman Beecher, ordained at East Hampton in 1799, with an annual salary of $300 plus firewood. Following the 1804 duel of Burr and Hamilton, Lyman gains popular recognition when he gives a sermon before the Presbytery of Long Island that is promptly published as The Remedy for Duelling in 1806. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lyman_Beecher) Lyman’s preaching leads to the Old School/New School controversy and a split in the Long Island Presbytery, as well as splits among other Presbyterians. The separation involves “differences over theology, governance, and reform, especially slavery,” says James Smylie (A Brief History of the Presbyterians, 78-79). “The Old School (is) doctrinally more conservative than the New School and ha(s) many adherents in the South. New Schoolers (are) exploring fresh ways of expressing their Reformed theology. Many (are) located in New York, the Midwest and the border states…They (are) attempting to articulate more clearly the human response to God’s gracious love shown in Jesus Christ. Despite New School professions of faithfulness to the Reformed faith, Old School adherents, especially in Pennsylvania, suspect a lack of New School orthodoxy” (Smylie, 79).
“Some people (think) that the Old School-New School division (is) an ominous national event because of the role Presbyterians played in society. Cyrus McCormick, Presbyterian Industrialist, considered the PCUSA (Old School) as the only institution holding the country together” (Smylie, 80). William Lloyd Garrison consider(s) the division between the Old School and the New School Presbyterian churches a sign of the coming division of the nation….” (Smylie, 80)
The Old School/New School split on Long Island leads to the formation of a Second Presbytery of Long Island. The organizational meeting of the Second Presbytery is held at the Smithtown Presbyterian Church on Oct. 30, 1832, when our present sanctuary is only a few years old (Dick Mehalick, Church and Community 1675-1975, The Story of the First Presbyterian Church of Smithtown, 51-52). Others who join with us are Babylon, Brookfield (later Manorville), Brookhaven, Fresh Ponds, Huntington, Middle Town (now Middle Island), Moriches, South Haven, and Sweet Hollow. The pastor of our church, the Rev. Ithamar Pillsbury, is appointed Stated Clerk of the new presbytery. Setauket and Westhampton soon join us. At the time of the split, the Presbytery of Long Island adheres to the “New School Assembly” while the Second Presbytery of Long Island is “Old School.” Donald Broad of Setauket Presbyterian describes Old School and New School in this way. “The Old School was Scots Irish, anti-revival, strict confessionalist, and pro-slavery. The New School was New England Puritan, pro-revival, liberal interpretation of the Confession, and anti-slavery” (Jane Des Grange, Long Island’s Religious History, 36).
In 1861, Southern presbyteries withdraw from the Old School Assembly. Commissioners meet in Augusta, GA, to form “The Presbyterian Church in the Confederate States of America.” Benjamin Palmer, pastor of First Presbyterian Church of New Orleans, is elected moderator. The body sends out the “Address of the Southern General Assembly to all the Churches of Jesus Christ,” explaining the reasons for the division of Presbyterians and making a “vigorous defense of slavery, as well as the ‘spirituality’ of the church, not preserved by former colleagues in the North” (Smylie, American Presbyterians: A Pictorial History, 106).
When we consider the history of Presbyterianism in America, we can’t help but see our imperfection and brokenness as a Church, prone to arguments and divisions—even today. And yet, we also see the work of the Spirit that has continued since the Church’s first dramatic formation on Pentecost. This must be how the Holy Spirit works in imperfect human beings, ordinary people still moved to do extraordinary acts of ministry—together.
Each year on Pentecost, we are reminded that the Church isn’t something that we can see or grasp or control. The Church isn’t merely human. The Church is empowered and guided, as it was on that long ago day, by the fire of the Holy Spirit.
All are gathered in one place when the Spirit comes to everyone, all at once. They are compelled to speak in other tongues, as the Spirit gives them ability. Yes, they are divided back then, the crowds who have come to Jerusalem to celebrate the Feast of Weeks or Pentekostos, the word for 50th, for it was celebrated on the 50th day after the presentation of the first sheaf to be reaped of the barley harvest. Pilgrims from many nations watch and listen to the gospel being shared in their own languages. Some are astonished and amazed, wondering how uneducated, unsophisticated Galileans can possibly know all these languages. Others ridicule them, accusing them of drunkenness.
But then Peter stands and preaches the sermon of his life, starting with a joke like a late night comedian. “These men are not drunk, as you suppose; for it is only 9 o’clock in the morning.” Peter would declare Joel’s prophecy fulfilled.
In the last days it will be, God declares,that I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh, and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams. Even upon my slaves, both men and women, in those days I will pour out my Spirit, and they shall prophesy.
The Spirit will touch the hearts and minds and transform the lives of EVERYONE who hears the message of God’s love and grace, a message that will never change. God’s salvation is still offered to everyone. No small print here, like we see on store coupons with expiration dates. No exclusions. No manmade rules. There’s only one requirement, says Joel and Peter. EVERYONE who calls upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.
The schism that led to the formation of the Second Presbytery of Long Island would be healed after the Civil War, in 1870. At the reunion, the western part of the Old School Assembly becomes the Presbytery of Nassau. The eastern part with the New School body formed is the Presbytery of Long Island until 1963, when an act of General Assembly would redraw the borders of the Presbytery to include Suffolk and Nassau counties.
Alas, Southern Presbyterians who split during the Civil War would not reunite with Northern Presbyterians until 1983, when the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) is formed. The denomination would be the largest and most diverse member of the reformed family of churches on the continent. At the time of the reunion, the Church writes a new confession. The Brief Statement of Faith, included in our Book of Confessions, leads us to say what we believe about each person of the Trinity.
This is what we confess about God the Holy Spirit:
We trust in God the Holy Spirit, everywhere the giver and renewer of life. The Spirit justifies us by grace through faith, sets us free to accept ourselves and to love God and neighbor, and binds us together with all believers in the one body of Christ, the Church. The same Spirit who inspired the prophets and apostles rules our faith and life in Christ through Scripture, engages us through the Word proclaimed, claims us in the waters of baptism, feeds us with the bread of life and the cup of salvation, and calls women and men to all ministries of the church. In a broken and fearful world the Spirit gives us courage to pray without ceasing, to witness among all peoples to Christ as Lord and Savior, to unmask idolatries in Church and culture, to hear the voices of peoples long silenced, and to work with others for justice, freedom, and peace. In gratitude to God, empowered by the Spirit, we strive to serve Christ in our daily tasks and to live holy and joyful lives, even as we watch for God’s new heaven and new earth, praying, “Come, Lord Jesus.”
Let us pray.
Holy Spirit, thank you for coming as a rushing wind and tongues of fire on Pentecost, the Feast of Weeks, alighting on and dwelling in ordinary people and leading them to do extraordinary acts of ministry. Thank you for the example of Peter, an imperfect disciple whom you empower to persevere in his witness of the Living Christ all the days of his life. Do the same with us, dear Breath of God. Forgive us, heal our Church from any brokenness. Make us one. Empower all Presbyterian Christians to love and accept everyone, to share God’s gracious love in Jesus Christ, and stir others to call upon the name of the Lord and be saved. Lead us to serve Christ in our daily tasks, live holy and joyful lives, as we watch and wait for the new heaven and the new earth, praying in one voice, “Come, Lord Jesus.” Amen.
I found out yesterday that May 6th through 12th was National Nurses Week. Maybe you knew that? It always corresponds with the birthday of Florence Nightingale—May 12, 1820. Do you know her amazing story?
She was born in Florence, Italy, to an affluent British family that moved in elite social circles. She was brought up in the family’s historic English country estates at Embley, Hampshire, and Lea Hurst, Derbyshire. She was provided with a classical education, studying math, German, French, and Italian. But she was awkward in social situations, and she and her mother didn’t get along. She said her mother was controlling! At an early age, Florence was involved in ministering to the poor and sick in the village neighboring her family’s estate. She eventually concluded that God was calling her to be a nurse, much to the horror of her family. Nursing was seen by the upper classes as lowly menial labor.
Florence further angered her mother when she turned down a gentleman’s offer of marriage and went to Germany to study nursing. She returned to London in the 1850s and began working first as a nurse in a hospital, caring for sick governesses, and then a supervisor of nurses.
The Crimean War broke out in October 1853. “Allied British and French forces were at war against the Russian Empire for control of Ottoman territory. Thousands of British soldiers were sent to the Black Sea, where supplies quickly dwindled. By 1854, no fewer than 18,000 soldiers had been admitted into military hospitals. At the time, there were no female nurses stationed at hospitals in the Crimea. … England was in an uproar about the neglect of sick and injured soldiers. They lacked not only sufficient medical attention due to hospitals being horribly understaffed but also languished in appallingly unsanitary conditions.”
The Secretary of War wrote Florence a letter, asking her to organize a corps of nurses to tend to the sick and fallen soldiers in the Crimea. She assembled a team of about three dozen nurses from a variety of religious orders and set sail to the Crimea. When they arrived, they discovered that the “hospital sat on top of a large cesspool, which contaminated the water and the building itself. Patients lay in their own excrement on stretchers strewn throughout the hallways. Rodents and bugs scurried past them. The most basic supplies, such as bandages and soap, grew increasingly scarce as the number of ill and wounded steadily increased. Even water needed to be rationed.”
Florence, who became noted for her statistician skills, kept careful records and observed that more soldiers were dying from infectious diseases, such as typhoid and cholera, than from injuries incurred in battle. She and her team got to work scrubbing the hospital from top to bottom, floor to ceiling. And she earned the nicknames of “the Lady with the Lamp” and the “Angel of Crimea” because she spent every waking moment caring for the patients, moving through the wards at night carrying a lamp. In 1858, she published a massive report based on her nursing experiences during the war. Her Notes on Matters Affecting the Health, Efficiency and Hospital Administration of the British Army would spark a total restructuring of the War Office’s administrative department, including the establishment of a Royal Commission for the Health of the Army.
Her contributions to medicine are astounding for her time and gender. Radical changes came from a foundational understanding that good sanitation and cleanliness, such as the simple act of workers washing their hands, protects and promotes the health, healing, and well-being of patients.
As Christ’s followers, we have a foundational understanding of the need for prayer in our life. For without prayer, we cannot have a healthy, loving relationship with him. We cannot function as Christ’s disciples or his church without prayer. He provides an example for our prayer not just with The Lord’s Prayer but in his prayer for his disciples in this last discourse in John. Some say that that the whole of this prayer, which extends beyond our passage, is really a hymn, much like the psalms are both prayers and songs.
Of all the things for which Jesus could have been praying, he chooses three things as a final request to God. The first thing for which he prays is for our protection. The word translated “protect” is literally “keep.” He says, “O Father most holy, keep them.” This reminds me of the Aaronic blessing in Numbers 6, beginning at verse 24. May “The LORD bless you and keep you; the LORD make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you; the LORD lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.” This “keeping” in 1 John 2:15-17 is keeping us safe “from the contamination of the world.” John will pray in 17:15-16, “I am not asking you to take them out of the world but to keep them safe from the Evil One. They do not belong to the world, any more than I belong to the world.” To keep them, Jesus’s followers will be marked with and protected by the divine name that God has given to him. He prays to the Father, “keep them in your name.”
The Evil One is the same as the petition in Matthew’s version of the Lord’s Prayer. When we say in Matthew 6:13, “Deliver us from evil,” a more accurate translation is “Free us from the Evil One.” The Evil One is “the prince of this world.” As 1 John 19 says, “The whole world is under the Evil One.” As Paul says in his letter to the Philippians (3:20-21), “But our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.He will transform the body of our humiliation that it may be conformed to the body of his glory, by the power that also enables him to make all things subject to himself.”
The second thing for which Christ prays is for our unity—that we may be one as he is one with the Father. This unity is not our doing, but it is strengthened and revealed when we pray.
Jesus prays for a final thing for us in verse 13, as we look beyond where our passage ends. He prays for his joy to be ours. He says, “But now I am coming to you. Yet, while still in the world, I say all this that they may share my joy to the full.”
I want to thank you, again, for your prayers for Jim and me after his surgery. I still remember that Saturday night, when I couldn’t compress his wound long and hard enough to stop the bleeding. We ended up in Stony Brook ER, and it took two doctors and several hours before the bleeding was brought under control, and we could go home. His healing journey continues, and we find ourselves ever grateful for the wonderful medical care that he has received. The nurses are my heroes. They took the time to teach me, step by step, how to clean and dress the wound. Now I feel like I am really getting the hang of it. This is good because we probably have a few more weeks of dressing changes to go.
These prayers for one another—and there are more prayer requests today from our church family—is what keeps us always in God’s keeping. In Christ’s care. First Peter tells us the correct attitude for our prayer is one of humility, asking for God’s will, trusting the Lord who wants us to cast all our cares and anxieties on the God who cares for us. When we pray humbly with and for one another, we are no longer individuals attempting to follow Christ on our own. We are made one in Him and each other, as Christ is one with us and the Father.
When the Crimean conflict was resolved, Florence “returned to her childhood home at Lea Hurst. To her surprise she was met with a hero’s welcome, which the humble nurse did her best to avoid. The previous year, Queen Victoria rewarded her work by presenting her with an engraved brooch that came to be known as the ‘Nightingale Jewel’ and by granting her a prize of $250,000 from the British government. She used the money to fund the establishment of St. Thomas’ Hospital in 1860, and within it, the Nightingale Training School for Nurses. She became a figure of public admiration as she tirelessly devoted her life to preventing disease and ensuring safe and compassionate treatment for the poor and the suffering. Poems, songs and plays were written and dedicated in her honor. Young women aspired to be like her. Eager to follow her example, even women from the wealthy upper classes started enrolling at the training school. Thanks to Florence, nursing was no longer frowned upon by the upper classes; it had, in fact, come to be viewed as an honorable vocation, a worthy calling from God.”
Will you pray with me?
God our Healer, we come to you humbly, seeking to cast our cares on you who cares for us. Thank you for your Son, Jesus, who prayed for our protection, unity, and joy before he gave his life for us. Thank you that he continues to intercede for us with the Holy Spirit and helps us when we pray and when we struggle to pray. Thank you for the spirit of compassion that flows through our congregation—how we pray for and care for one another so tenderly. We ask that you continue to bless and keep us. Stir us to recognize the importance of prayer in our lives and that you strengthen us to pray more confidently, fervently, and faithfully. Make us one in Christ and fill us with his joy. In the name of our Triune God we pray. Amen.
For more about Florence Nightingale, go to:
Florence Nightingale (1820-1910): The Founder of Modern Nursing at the National Library of Medicine:
I wrote letters to our Irish relatives yesterday, thanking them for their hospitality while we visited a few weeks ago. As I wrote, I smiled as I remembered my conversation with cousins Margaret and Elizabeth about our children. This was something we had in common—our love and concern for them, though all are grown, and some with spouses and children of their own. You never stop worrying about your children, do you?
On this day when we both honor and give thanks for our mothers and remember and rejoice in Christ’s Ascension, I find myself thinking about Jesus’ relationship with his mother. I find myself wondering, “What about Mary?”
I was delighted to find a work of art this week that features Mary at the Ascension. The artist is Johann Koerbecke, who lived from 1420 to 1491. This particular piece is on display at the National Gallery of Art in Washington D.C. While there is no mention of Christ’s mother in this passage in Luke, we know that she was likely with her son in his last moments on earth and will be with the other disciples waiting and praying for the Holy Spirit in the Upper Room at the beginning of Acts. In this 15th century painting, Mary is the only woman, and she is the only one with a halo, looking up with the disciples as Jesus ascends into the sky, his hand in a gesture of blessing. A beardless young man with blond curls has his arm around Mary, offering support. He is the beloved disciple from John, the one standing with Mary near the cross when Jesus says to her, “Woman, here is your son,”and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that time on, this disciple took her into his home.
You know, there’s not much written about Mary in the Bible. That shouldn’t surprise us. There’s not much written about any woman in the Bible. They usually but not always play minor roles; they are someone’s wife, widow, or mother. But you’d think there would be more about Mary, especially considering the important role she played in the life of the One who came to be the Savior of the world.
She only appears in the four gospels—Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John—and Acts and only briefly. She is mentioned most often in Luke—12 times, mostly in the first two chapters, in the infancy narratives that we read at Advent and Christmas. She hears the angel’s announcement, is startled but asks good questions (“How is this supposed to happen, again?”) and believes, because she already trusts in God. Mary courageously leaves on a long journey, alone, on foot, to visit with her older relative, Elizabeth, who is also pregnant, though she had been barren. Both women know that they are part of God’s much larger mysterious plan for the world.Mary sings a joyful song she has composed, beginning:
My soul exalts the Lord,and my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior. For He has had regard for the humble state of His bondslave; For behold, from this time on all generations will count me blessed. For the Mighty One has done great things for me; and holy is His name.
She is well acquainted with Hebrew scripture because her song is often compared to the song of Hannah (1 Samuel), when she learns she is pregnant with Samuel after years of carrying the shame of being barren. When Joseph learns of Mary’s pregnancy in Matthew—a gospel where Mary is only mentioned 5 times—he considers breaking off their engagement quietly. He is a good man and doesn’t want to publicly disgrace her. But an angel tells him what God is doing, and that his role is to protect and care for Mary, who will give birth to the Messiah. “And you will name him Jesus,” the angel says, “because he will save his people from their sins.” (Matthew 1:21) Magi follow the star to Jesus in Bethlehem. They fall down and worship Mary’s son. In Luke, the shepherds come to visit Mary and Jesus in Bethlehem. They amaze everyone with their story, and Mary “treasure(s) all these things, pondering them in her heart.” She and Joseph present Jesus in the temple when he is 8 days old, and they marvel at what Simeon and Anna say about him—that he will bring redemption for Jerusalem and be a light for revelation to the Gentiles.
But after these miraculous and joyful events, Mary’s relationship with Jesus becomes increasingly complicated and, well, human. You can tell she is stressed. When he is 12, Mary and Joseph bring him to Jerusalem for the Passover, and he wanders off without telling them where he is going. They panic and look high and low. Finally, they find him in the Temple, sitting among the teachers and asking questions. They are astonished. Mary (not Joseph) is the one who speaks to him sharply, “Child, why have you treated us like this? Your father and I have been anxiously looking for you.” Jesus doesn’t appear to understand their concern. And they don’t understand when he says to them, “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” But he goes home with them to Nazareth and is obedient to them, and once again, “his mother treasure(s) all these things in her heart.”
Sadly, Mark and John hardly mention Mary. We hear nothing of Jesus’ childhood or Mary’s mothering in John, nor is Jesus’ mother called “Mary.” But when Jesus is about 30, and is at a big wedding, they run out of wine. Mary takes charge and is the one who tells her son, “They have no wine,” meaning, “Do something about it.” Jesus calls her “woman” (not mother) and tells her it isn’t his time to do these things, and you can feel the tension when she ignores him. She tells the servants to do whatever he tells them to do—and he does exactly what she expects—and this is the first of his signs, when he turns water into wine.
Mary has heard the words of angels, shepherds, magi, and prophets, and has seen the miracles her son can do; still, she doesn’t always get it right. Her instinct is to protect him and try to keep him out of trouble. One of the most touching scenes is in Mark when she and his brothers and sisters come to “restrain him for people are saying, ‘He has gone out of his mind.’ They are standing outside the place he is staying and calling to him. They send someone to tell him, “Your mother and your brothers and sisters are outside, asking for you.” “Who are my mother and my brothers?” Jesus says, dismissing the messenger. In trying to make a point about this new family of faith, he rejects the one who gave him birth. “Here are my mother and my brothers!” he says of those sitting at his feet. “Whoever does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother.”
Like Mary, sometimes we know things about our children—their gifts and talents, strengths and weaknesses—before they do. We see glimpses of what and who they will become when they are still very young. But we don’t know what God has planned. That’s why the most important thing we do is simply to love our children—just love them—and trust that God will guide and strengthen us and them for the lives they are called to lead. We can only trust the Lord, who loves our families—our children!—even more than we do, and pray.
Speaking of families, we welcome Phyllis Oakes back into the fold today. She was a member of our congregation for a long time and found joy serving the children in Sunday School. Then the Lord led her to move to a different place in another season of her life. But the Spirit has brought her home so that she may be closer to her biological family and continue to grow and be encouraged by her family of faith.
Luke ends his gospel with this brief account of the Ascension—three verses—to be continued in his second work, the Acts of the Apostles. But Luke’s story and our story—in which we still live and await the final consummation of things—is not over, yet. This Jesus who sits on the right hand of God, as we say in the Apostles’ Creed, will send and continue sending the Spirit he has promised. The Comforter will clothe his followers with power from on high. The Spirit will fill and refresh us and enable us to do the works of love the Lord leads us to do. You see, Christ still sends us out to be his witnesses—and to share the message of forgiveness with all the nations, beginning with ourselves, our families, our church, and neighborhood. He sends us out with his blessing to be a blessing to the world.
Until we see him again in glory— in his glory and in ours!
Will you pray with me?
Holy One, thank you for your Son’s Resurrection and Ascension and for the first witnesses who shared the promise of our resurrection and glorification with him. Send your Spirit to empower us to be faithful witnesses for Christ today, proclaiming repentance and forgiveness to all the nations, beginning right here in our church, our families, and in Smithtown. Send your Spirit to comfort, heal, empower, and give peace to mothers. They have so many pressures today, Lord. Bless weary young mothers with babies who don’t sleep through the night and older mothers who are lonely empty nesters, longing to see their children who live far away. Bless all mothers with joy on this day that we honor them and give you thanks for their love and patience. Bless all who are mourning their mothers, especially those for whom this is their first Mother’s Day without them. We pray through your Risen and Ascended Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord. Amen.
We had our Presbytery meeting in Cutchogue yesterday. Been to Cutchogue? It was my first time. But the white church reminded me of many of the white wooden churches on Long Island. It had no clock tower or pew boxes like ours, and, being founded in the 1730s, was a young congregation compared to our 1675.
But it did have character.
Unfortunately, there were only 2 bathrooms (two toilets). And one was well hidden. A church member led me through the kitchen to find it. It was basically a closet, with sink, toilet, and hot water heater.
Pastor Richie welcomed us, when the meeting began, and said they were “the little church that could.” (You know, like the children’s book, The Little Engine That Could.) When people complained that there were only two bathrooms, he said there was only one when the church was built. (I guess they were feeling mighty lucky when they added the second!) He invited everyone from the presbytery to come back today for worship and keep coming back every Sunday—and then they would be able to add another bathroom.
We all laughed at that.
Coming back from Cutchogue, I remembered how 4 years ago, when I first arrived, I got lost leaving our church. Do you remember me telling you about that? I forgot my phone and didn’t have GPS in my car. I just kept driving around and driving around, and nothing seemed familiar, until I passed Catherine of Sienna Hospital.
And yesterday, I just followed the signs to 495 and ignored Ben on my GPS, when he told me to turn left on some side road. I knew it wasn’t going to be a direct route.
I was anxious to be home.
This beautiful passage in John 14 is often read at funerals to assure mourners that they will be reunited with their loved ones, and see Jesus, face to face. He has gone to prepare a place in the Father’s house of many rooms or dwelling places for all who believe. What do we always think of when we read this? Heaven.
But this week, when I studied this passage in the context of living as Easter people right now, I realized that Christ wasn’t just saying that he was preparing a place for us in the future to be together. Because the Kingdom of Heaven is already here. Heaven has come down to earth. The Good Shepherd is with us now.
When the Lord talks about preparing a place, I think he’s talking about a place for all of us to live and love and labor together for the Kingdom, now and forever.
And, reading this passage alongside the reading in First Peter, I think he could be talking about the people of God as a place. We are that place that Christ is preparing—transforming us all into a new creation.
Peter uses language similar to Paul’s analogy of God’s people being a human body with different members and functions—a hand, arm, ear, and eye, and so forth, united by the Lord, who is the head. Peter says our Lord is the cornerstone—the first rock that was laid. He is the foundation for a new temple, not an edifice like the white churches on Long Island, but God’s people being built into a spiritual house.
We are living stones.
“River Rocks” by Murray Henderson, available at wayfair.com
Ever collected rocks as a child? They come in all different shapes and sizes, don’t they? Each have their own beauty, pressed and shaped by natural forces over the years. Stones never stop growing, changing, moving and being moved, if left on the earth, interacting with organic and inorganic materials.
It never fails to excite me when Jesus talks about the works that his followers will do in the gospel of John after he goes to be with the Father. He says that those who believe in him will do even greater works than he. Why is that? Because he is listening when we pray and he longs to grant us the desires of our hearts—desires that he himself has placed there.
Reading these two passages together, a new question comes to mind.
What can living stones do?
Yesterday, when I arrived home from the Presbytery meeting, I discovered that my husband, who had surgery on Wednesday to remove a basal cell carcinoma from the base of his ear had fresh blood seeping from his bandage, running down the side of his neck. I tried for several hours to clean and dress the wound and apply pressure to stop the bleeding. But the wound is deep and the doctor didn’t close the entire incision because it would change the shape of his ear.
Finally, I decided we had waited long enough and I couldn’t fix what was wrong. I paged the doctor on call, who told us to go to the nearest hospital.
Even before we left, I was already reaching out to our Session and close friends—to ask them to pray. For the promise is not only that the Lord will hear us when we pray, but that we who believe in God and Jesus will perform even greater works than he, when we pray.
At Stony Brook, the EMT at the front desk immediately started to work on Jim’s ear, but the bleeding continued to seep through the gauze almost as quickly as it was changed. After some time, we were taken to the back, where a doctor and a physician’s assistant tried different things over the course of a couple of hours to stop the bleeding, finally wrapping his entire head in a bandage and pulling it tight.
The miracle wasn’t that the bleeding was finally under control. The miracle was that in the time that we were there, we could feel the peace of Christ with us. We were able to smile and laugh. And I know it was because of the prayers of the people that I was able to relax, though it had been a long day, and I should have been anxious that I hadn’t even begun to work on a sermon. It was close to 9 o’clock when we finally pulled in the driveway.
The miracle was that I didn’t worry about today because I knew that I would be with my beloved flock, God’s people who are being built into a spiritual house, with Christ our cornerstone. We aren’t that different than our siblings in Christ at Cutchogue. We certainly have some of the same building challenges. But we, too, are the little church that could!
Dear friends, I am wondering what great works of love and healing will we do this year, with God’s help, when we pray and labor for the Kingdom, in Christ’s name?
For Heaven has come down to earth. And the Kingdom of God is already here.
Christ has prepared a place for us to dwell in him and he in us, now and forever.
I can’t wait to see what living stones can do!
Let us pray.
Holy One, thank you for sending your Son to be the cornerstone who is building a spiritual house with his followers, we who are your beloved living stones. Lord, thank you for your work of transformation in our hearts and lives and that in you, we are a new Creation. Lord, thank you for answered prayers and for sending your peace just when we need it. Thank you for preparing an everlasting place for us and for dwelling in and with us always. Lord, stir us to pray more faithfully for the things that your desire. Help us cling to the promise that you will use us to do even greater works of love and healing as we labor for your Kingdom, serving in your name. With help and guidance from our living and loving Lord, we can’t wait to see what living stones can do. In the name of our Risen Savior we pray. Amen.
Jim and I have returned from our visit to Jim’s family in Northern Island. We did have a good time, although it rained and was quite chilly for all but 3 days. But it’s as the Irish say, “You don’t come to Ireland for the weather.”
Jim’s mother, Margaret Heaney, was born in County Down in 1899. She crossed the Atlantic to New York City, entering America through Ellis Island as a young woman of 30 on November 4, 1929. In an age and place where family was everything, she left her parents and all but one of her siblings behind. She came because she suffered from arthritis, and the cold, damp climate worsened her condition. And she came with an adventurous spirit, hoping to make friends, make her home here, find work, fall in love, get married, have children and watch them grow up and follow their dreams. And that’s exactly what happened. She met Daniel Crawford, from Glen Arm, County Antrim, Northern Island, on a blind date. They crossed the George Washington Bridge on opening day on October 25, 1931. They married two years later.
Last November was the first time I met Jim’s Irish family. We spent most of our time with one couple and only saw the other cousins and their families at a dinner. As we said goodbye, the other cousins urged us to come again, wiping away tears of joy and sadness.
It was my idea that we go, again, this year and take the time to visit the cousins and get to know them more. I joyfully anticipated being back in County Down, captivated, once again, by the beauty of the hills, the Mountains of Mourne, cottages beside windy roads no bigger than cow paths; and white and black sheep grazing in rolling green pastures, rising above the blue green Irish Sea.
Finally, after we had been in Ireland almost a week, we were able to see and talk with all but the eldest cousin at a Sunday afternoon open house. Cousin Edward and I got to talking and next thing I knew, we were planning a visit to his farm the next day to see the new lambs with their mothers. Now Edward is a shy man in his 70s, never married and has lived alone in an old farmhouse for decades. It was a surprise to the rest of the family that we were invited.
Edward, wearing tall boots, met us at our car and led us to an enclosure with stone walls where the youngest lambs were kept with their mothers.
I was moved when Edward called his sheep. He spoke in grunts that resembled the sounds that the sheep made. Sure enough, the sheep looked up and came closer when he called but then stopped when they saw us. For Jim and I were strangers.
Edward calling and feeding his sheep
Edward said he knew how to get them to come. He disappeared for a moment and came back with a bucket of feed he called “nuts” and dumped them in a trough in front of us. The sheep came running and noisily ate, while their lambs looked on curiously. They were a few days to a few weeks old, some with black faces and legs, others with black spots, and some that were pure white.
View from Edwards’ kitchen
After he fed the sheep, Edward called us into his kitchen so that he could feed us. He had set the table with a couple of old mugs and one small plate for tea bags. He poured our tea and opened packages of blueberry muffins, pancakes, and biscuits. Then he sliced an apple tart, put a generous slab of it into my hand and urged me to eat. It was delicious!
Our experiences with sheep and farmers in Ireland helped me imagine God’s people long ago in pastoral Judaea. For miles around, all we could see were sloping, green pastures where sheep and cattle peacefully grazed inside walled enclosures. Edward said that sheep, unlike cattle, are prone to wander, even if there is plenty of good grass in their pasture; they need to be contained. Also, they don’t always want to follow where the shepherds want them to go, and this was true in Judaea, too. While sheep in Northern Island are raised for wool and meat, sheep in biblical times were raised mostly for wool. That meant that the shepherd and the sheep were together for many years and got to know each other well. Shepherds in Ireland mark their sheep with neon paint so their flock can be easily recognized. I don’t know if they actually name their sheep as they did in Judaea and as they do to this day in the Middle East.
The life of a shepherd in Northern Island, though difficult, isn’t as hard as the shepherd’s life in biblical times and places. William Barclay writes, “No flock ever grazed without a shepherd, and he was never off duty. There being little grass, the sheep were bound to wander; and since there were no protecting walls, the sheep had constantly to be watched. On either side of the narrow plateau, the ground dipped sharply down to the craggy deserts, and the sheep were always liable to stray away and get lost. The shepherd’s task was not only constant but also dangerous, for, in addition, he had to guard the flock against wild animals, especially against wolves, and there were always thieves and robbers ready to steal the sheep.”[1]
You may have noticed that the Bible is full of references to sheep and shepherds, providing a window into the world in which they lived and emphasizing the importance of the role of the shepherd to their society. Numerous Psalms feature God as the shepherd. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want” (Psalm 23:1). “You led your people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron” (Psalm 77:20). “We your people, the flock of your pasture, will give thanks to you forever” (Psalm 79:13). “For he is our God, and we are the people of his pasture, and the sheep of his hand” (Psalm 95:7 and 100:3).[2] In Isaiah 40:11, the Messiah, is pictured as a shepherd. “He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms, and carry them in his bosom, and gently lead the mother sheep.”
Jesus is the good shepherd who will lay down his life for the sheep in John 10. He will risk his life to seek and save the one sheep that is straying (Matthew 18:12; Luke 15:4). His disciples are his little flock (Luke 12:32). He has pity upon the people because they are as sheep without a shepherd (Matthew 9:36; Mark 6:34). He is the shepherd of human souls (1 Peter 2:25) and the great shepherd of the sheep (Hebrews 13:20).
Two things stand out to me in our passage in John today. One is that Jesus calls himself the gate. I was intrigued to learn that shepherds really were and are the “gate” for the sheep. In “many Eastern sheepfolds, the shepherd lies down at night in the gateway of the enclosure, to stop the sheep getting out and to stop predators getting in.”[3] Jesus is promising safety, like the Psalmist says in 121:8, “The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time on and forevermore.”
The other is the promise that Christ’s followers will hear his voice. This stays with me. So often, we are straining hard to listen for his voice. Do you ever feel that way? We doubt that we can hear him, but here in John’s gospel Christ is promising that we do and will hear him. He allows us to recognize his voice amidst the many voices and sounds that surround us in our busy lives. He calls to each of us in such a way that we can hear him, much like Edward and his sheep.
During my visit to Ireland, I found myself marveling at the courage of Margaret Heaney. It must have been difficult for her to leave her country and family behind at the age of 30 to find a new life in America. I wonder if she ever questioned during the early days—before she met and fell in love with Daniel—if she had heard the voice of the Lord in her decision?
On the second day of our trip, I wondered if I had misheard Christ’s voice. One of our hosts took me aside and said that it wasn’t a good time for the visit, after all. And I didn’t know what to do or say. We were already there. We had already planned on staying at hotels for some of the trip, but much of our time was spent with them.
Last night, I watched a video that I had taken of Edward and the sheep on a big screen, and I was back in County Down, captivated, once again, by the beauty of the hills, the Mountains of Mourne, cottages beside windy roads no bigger than cow paths; and white and black sheep grazing in rolling green pastures, rising above the blue green Irish Sea. I listened to Edward call them in their own language, watched him feed them nuts—and remembered how he hand-fed me tart and biscuits. I remembered how, when we left Edward’s house, I gave the big shy man a hug and he held me close, something that other family members said they had never seen him do before.
By the end of our stay, something in the air had changed. The Spirit was at work. The cousin with whom we stayed was reconnected with the others after decades of not staying in touch. In addition to the visit with Edward, we were invited for tea with Cousin Elizabeth, who then invited us to come and stay a night with her family on our next visit.The one who said it wasn’t a good time for us to visit invited us to visit again next year.
Right now, all I can think is that I am glad to be home. I am happy to know where the Lord wants me to be. Isn’t that a good feeling? To be safely gathered in Christ’s fold?
Lambs calling for and finding their mother
Dear friends, the one lesson that I am continually learning is that God’s plans are so much bigger than we can know. How else could the Lord use a trip to Ireland to bring about a family’s healing and reconciliation?
Brothers and sisters, hold onto the promise that we are Christ’s sheep. He laid down his life for us. He looks for us when we go astray. He came so that we may have life and have it abundantly. And now may the one who guides, feeds, loves, and protects us, calls us by name and allows us to hear his voice, keep your going out and your coming in from this time on and forevermore.
Let us pray.
Good Shepherd, thank you for coming to us so that we may have life and have it abundantly. Thank you for having a plan for us, for calling us by name and allowing us to hear your voice. Thank you for welcoming us into your everlasting fold and for guiding, protecting, feeding, and loving us. We ask that you continue to bring reconciliation and healing to our families near and far. Open our hearts to your Spirit’s transforming work. Lead us to righteous paths and keep us safely in your care, never giving in to temptation to go astray. In the name of our Triune God we pray. Amen.
Have you been following Artemis II? NASA’s first crewed lunar mission in more than 50 years returned safely to Earth on Friday after completing its historic trip around the moon.
The four-member crew successfully splashed down in the Pacific Ocean at 8:07 p.m. Eastern Time. The four astronauts flew within roughly 4,000 miles of the lunar surface and became the first humans to travel to the moon and return to Earth since the Apollo 17 mission of December 1972. They also set a record during Monday’s seven-hour lunar flyby for the farthest distance from Earth traveled by humans — 252,756 miles, surpassing Apollo 13’s mark of 248,655 miles in 1970. The 10-day mission, launched on April 1, was the first in the new deep space capsule Orion. Although Orion offers about 60 percent more space than the Apollo command module, it’s still only roughly the size of two minivans. The mission didn’t include a lunar landing, but it tested space hardware and life support systems that will be crucial to NASA’s plans for the next lunar landing in 2028 and its future quest to build a moon base by the end of the decade.
When I heard about Artemis II, I wanted to know more about the astronauts. You see, I remember when astronauts visited our elementary school in the 1970s and how we were in awe of them. I am still in awe of those who have what it takes to handle the many stressors of space travel.
All the astronauts have numerous advanced degrees. Victor Glover, a Naval aviator and test pilot from California, served as the pilot of Artemis II after serving as the pilot of NASA’s SpaceX Crew-1 mission to the International Space Station. He is now the first person of color to journey around the moon. Christina Koch set a record for the longest single space flight by a woman with a total of 328 days in space and participated in the first all-female space walks. She was featured on Time’s list of the 100 most influential people of 2020 and is now the first woman to journey around the moon and travel beyond low earth orbit. Canadian Space Agency’s Jeremy Hansen from Ontario, a fighter pilot and test pilot, is now the first Canadian to ever venture to the moon. He worked at Mission Control Center as a capcom- the voice between the ground and the International Space Station and was a crewmember of NEEMO 19, where he lived and worked on the ocean floor in the Aquarius habitat off Key Largo, Florida, for seven days simulating deep-space exploration.
But the story of the commander, Reid Wiseman, is the one that captured my heart. For Reid was willing to reveal his emotional wounds for a global audience and share his story of finding strength in his time of greatest weakness and challenge.
At 50, he is the oldest man to travel beyond low earth orbit and to the moon, beating Alan Shepherd by 3 years. He is a 27-year Navy veteran, a pilot, father, engineer, and Baltimore native. He was selected as an astronaut by NASA in 2009 and served as Flight Engineer aboard the International Space Station for a 165-day mission. His list of degrees and professional accolades is long, like the others, but he says the biggest challenge by far in his life was losing his wife to cancer in 2020, and then he had the challenge of caring for their two daughters on his own while they were all grieving. “It is not easy being an only parent, trying to work a full-time job, and raising two kids. It is something that I think about every single day.”
Carroll had dedicated her life to helping others as a pediatric nurse practitioner working in a newborn intensive care unit. Reid stepped back from active flight duty while she was sick. He was ready to give up his dream of becoming an astronaut when she was diagnosed with cancer. But she refused to let him. She was just 46 when she died. And now, Reid says, though he has just made history through the Artemis II mission, “My girls are my whole life.”
How did Thomas the Twin end up being called Doubting Thomas? Most of the stories about this passage in John have focused on Thomas’ lack of faith, when, in fact, I don’t think that is the point. And he may have been the most faithful of them all, declaring the divine nature of Jesus when Christ appears to him and invites him to touch and see his wounds. Thomas falls down to worship him, saying, “My Lord and my God!”
One of the difficulties with this passage is that some people don’t accept that doubt can exist alongside faith. Doubt is not the opposite of faith. Fear is the opposite of faith. Fear is what gets in the way of our living faithfully. Consider the desperate father of the demon-possessed boy in Mark 9 who begs Jesus, after his disciples have failed to heal him, “If you are able to do anything, help us! Have compassion on us.” Jesus says to him, “If you are able! All things can be done for the one who believes.”Immediately the father of the child cries out, “I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:23-24)
Thomas’ problem is simply that he isn’t there when Jesus appears to the other disciples and invites them to see the wounds on his hands and side. He isn’t there when the group is being commissioned and empowered not with a great rush of mighty wind but when Jesus breathes on this small group of followers and tells them to go and tell the world that they are forgiven.
The story of Thomas’ doubt until seeing and touching the risen Christ is the last sign that John will share before he closes his book with his purpose; he has written all these signs for the generations who follow the first disciples, the ones who never met him in the flesh or seen and touched him when he has risen—people like you and me. John says, “these are written so that you may continueto believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.”
Let’s move from Thomas’ doubt and look at the emphasis on Christ’s wounds in this passage. Two times, the risen Christ invites his followers to see and/or touch them, and when they do, they rejoice at what God has done. But there is another reason for scars—and not just to prove he is risen from the dead. For God could have chosen to heal Christ’s human body without leaving any scars. The flesh remained scarred for our sake—so that we would see and remember what the prophet said about the power of his wounds to heal us. Isaiah 53:5 says, “But he was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises (or stripes) we are healed.”
Our Lord, Jesus Christ, has become a wounded healer for humanity. As his followers, we are invited to enter into his sufferings, be healed by him, and then, by the power of the Spirit, become wounded healers, too. In other words, our wounds can become the source of healing for others.
There’s a wounded healer in an old legend in the Talmud. “In the legend, a Rabbi asks the prophet Elijah when the Messiah will come and how he can recognize him. Elijah says that he will be found at the city gates and describes him this way: “He is sitting among the poor covered with wounds. The others unbind all their wounds at the same time and bind them up again. But he unbinds one at a time and binds it up again, saying to himself, “Perhaps I shall be needed: if so I must always be ready so as not to delay for a moment.”’
Dutch priest, theologian, and scholar Henri Nouwen writes in his book, The Wounded Healer: Ministry in Contemporary Society, “Messiah, the story tells us, is sitting among the poor, binding his wounds one at a time, waiting for the moment when he will be needed. So it is too with the minister. Since it is his task to make visible the first vestiges of liberation for others, he must bind his own wounds carefully in anticipation of the moment when he will be needed. He is called to be the wounded healer, the one who must look after his own wounds but at the same time be prepared to heal the wounds of others. We are both wounded ministers and healing ministers.”
“Jesus has given this story a new fullness by making his own broken body the way to health, liberation, and new life. Thus, like Jesus, those who proclaim liberation are called not only to care for their own wounds and the wounds of others but also to make their wounds into a major source of healing power.” (Nouwen, 158).
Although many other words may be used to describe the wounded condition of human beings, Nouwen uses these words: alienation, separation, isolation, and loneliness. (Nouwen, 158). And he says that although many words have been used for the healing tasks of the Christian, words such as care and compassion, understanding and forgiveness, fellowship and community, the word he likes best is “hospitality,” which is “the ability to pay attention to the guest” and not be preoccupied with one’s own needs, worries, and tensions. …When our souls are restless … how can we possibly create the space where someone else can enter freely without feeling like an unlawful intruder?” (Nouwen, 162-163).
I like the word hospitality for the ministry of care and compassion that brings about the healing of wounded humanity, but the word I would use would be storytelling. And if the storytelling comes about when we are showing hospitality, then it is a powerful thing, indeed. Key is the intimate, welcoming environment and time to have these kinds of conversations. And the sharers and the hearers must be able to trust one another enough to be willing to share from the heart.
Thinking about the four people on the Artemis II mission, living for 10 days with the stress of space travel, watched by a global audience in a capsule about the size of 2 minivans, we can imagine that they had time to share not just their professional experiences, but their personal stories. That must have been how Jeremy Hansen, the Canadian astronaut, was stirred to call down to Mission Control in Houston on April 6 to request that a newly discovered lunar crater be named for Reid’s late wife, Carroll. “The crater straddles the boundary between the moon’s near and far sides and can at times be seen from Earth. It’s a bright spot on the moon,” Jeremy said, his voice breaking up, “and we would like to call it Carroll.” The astronauts wiped their eyes and shared a hug. The flight controllers on Earth, with Mr. Wiseman’s family nearby, observed a moment of silence.” (Katrina Miller, New York Times, April 6, 2026).
Let us pray. Holy One, thank you for Thomas coming to the faith in such a dramatic way and for your Risen Son, who commissions us now to go and tell others that they are forgiven. Thank you that Christ revealed himself by inviting his disciples to look at and even touch his scars and for the power of those wounds to heal humanity. Help us, dear Lord, to have more faith than doubt, and be wounded healers, so that many more generations may continueto believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing we have life in his name. In the name of the Risen One, Amen.
Every Easter, I remember my grandmother singing in church,
Jesus Christ is Risen Today. Alleluia!
Our triumphant holy day. Alleluia!
Who did once upon the cross, Alleluia!
Suffer to redeem our loss, Alleluia!
Grandma Springer sang in the choir at her Lutheran church for about 50 years.
I remember having a conversation with her when I was in my 20s. We were on our way home from an evangelical church that I attended at the time. I had been active with a group in college called “Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship.” I was digging more deeply into the Bible and asking questions about my faith. Grandma was happy that I was going to church. She had prayed for me! She would go to any church with me, she said. If she didn’t go to church on Sunday, her whole week wouldn’t feel right. But when I talked with her about my questions, she would say that she never had them. She didn’t have the same burning need to know more about her faith. It was enough for her to simply trust in Jesus, her Lord.
I have been trying to read the newest book by Elaine Pagels off and on over the last 6 months. It’s called, Miracles and Wonder: The Historical Mystery of Jesus. I can only read about a chapter at a time before I have to put it away. Jim says this is quite a change from the old me who would never have read any of her books, or those of other scholars like her, such as John Dominic Crossan and Marcus Borg. They are looking for the Historical Jesus—not Jesus, the Messiah, that Grandma and I know. They are looking for irrefutable proof in the existence of the man outside the witness of the gospels and other early Christian writings. Of course, they don’t believe in the Resurrection. And they are wondering why so many people still do—and why the Jesus Movement continues.
Elaine is professor emeritus of religion at Princeton University. You might know her from bestselling book in 1979 called, The Gnostic Gospels. Her research focused on early Christianity and Gnosticism, which rose up about the same time as the Early Church, but was immediately declared a heresy. At the foundation of Gnosticism is the belief that the god who created our material world was a flawed, lesser god or demiurge. Salvation is possible through special knowledge directly revealed by a hidden, supreme being. Gnostics believe in Jesus, but not the Trinity. They believe that he was a divine being and never really human; he only appeared to be to lead humanity back to recognizing its own divine nature.
Elaine had already given up on several versions of Christianity, she says in her introduction, starting with the Methodist church she knew as a child. She gave up on the evangelical Christianity that she knew after answering Christ’s call at a Billy Graham crusade. This angered her father, who had struggled with “ferocious Presbyterianism” as a child. (Pagels, 3) Eighteen months after the Crusade, one of her closest friends, who was Jewish, died in a car crash. She looked for comfort at her church, and they told her that if he wasn’t born again, he wasn’t going to heaven. She gave up on Christianity, after that. But she was still drawn to religion. She later applied to a doctoral program in religion at Harvard, where she knew she would be challenged to think in ways she’d never imagined. (Pagels, 5)
She says later that in the last century, “many” Christians have come to think of the New Testament stories of Christ’s resurrection as “myth masquerading as fact…Were these reports based on hallucinations, or on projection, born of grief? Did Jesus’s disciples remove his body from his grave to fake a resurrection? Did someone else steal it, or, as a few historians suggest, was …. he never buried at all? Or were some reports claiming to document his resurrection telling of actual encounters with the risen Jesus, alive again after his death?” (Pagels, 163)
These were the same questions asked at the time of Christ’s death. Let’s go back to the crucifixion in chapter 27. Matthew says that when Jesus breathed his last, the curtain of the temple was torn in two. “Tombs were opened and many bodies of the saints who had fallen asleep were raised.” All who were keeping watch over Jesus, “saw the earthquake and what took place,” and they were terrified and said, “Truly this man was God’s Son.” “Many women were also there,” (verse 55) looking on from a distance; they had followed Jesus from Galilee and had “ministered to him.” The Greek word for ministered is the same root of the word that we use for “Deacon.” Who were the first deacons of the Church? The women who followed Jesus. Matthew names some of them. The most important is first: Mary Magdalene, who was probably a wealthy woman near the same age as Jesus’ mother. Mary the mother of James and Joseph is also named, and the mother of the sons of Zebedee,” who is Salome.
Evening came, and Joseph of Arimathea shows up and asks for Christ’s body. He would have been a wealthy man to have owned his own new tomb. For some strange reason, maybe it was the bad dreams his wife was having about Jesus, Pilate allows Joseph to bury Jesus. Earlier, Pilate had taken a bowl of water and washed his hands of the whole matter when the crowd was crying out for the death of Jesus the Messiah and the release of Jesus Barabbas, who had led an insurrection. A “great stone” was rolled “to the door of the tomb” and Joseph, a secret disciple, went away. Then, we learn in verse 61: “Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were there.” They were there the whole time, watching everything, but no longer from afar! There were “sitting opposite the tomb.” But the sun was going down; it was the Sabbath, and they had to go home.
They aren’t there when the Pharisees say to Pilate, “Sir, we remember what that imposter said while he was still alive, ‘After three days I will rise again.’ Therefore, command the tomb to be made secure until the third day; otherwise, his disciples may go and steal him away and tell the people, ‘He has been raised from the dead,’ and the last deception would be worse than the first.” Pilate answered, “You have a guard of soldiers; go make it as secure as you can.” The guard makes the tomb secure by sealing the stone. This posting of the guard is only in Matthew and was shared because at the time of this gospel writing, around 85 CE, the rumor that his disciples had taken the body was still being circulated.
Early the next morning, the women come to “see” the tomb. In Matthew, they are not coming to anoint the body. They are looking for the risen Christ! He told them that he would be raised—and they had already experienced the earthquake, the tearing of the Temple curtain, the opening of tombs, and seeing saints rise from the dead. Why wouldn’t they come back to the tomb to look for Jesus? They arrive and experience another earthquake and an angel rolling away the stone. He knows that they are looking for Jesus; he tells them not to be afraid, invites them into the empty tomb to see for themselves, and assures them that they would see him in Galilee.
They leave with “fear and great joy” and run to tell the male disciples. The amazing thing is that in the patriarchy society in which they live, women are never counted. They cannot testify in court as witnesses because the testimony of women is considered unreliable. But when the risen Savior meets them on the road, they are the first witnesses, the ones on whom Jesus relies to share the good news and be believed. The word that comes out of his mouth isn’t really “greetings!” as the English translates. It is better translated, “Rejoice!” They worship him and take hold of his feet. This is kind of a funny detail, except when you realize that the important thing is that this is Jesus raised in the flesh—not a ghost or divine being that only appears to be human. Jesus commissions them, repeating what the angel has said. “Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers and sisters to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”
Meanwhile, the guards go into the city and tell the chief priests what happened. The priests meet with the elders, and they devise a plan to bribe the soldiers with a large sum of money. They pay them to lie and say, “His disciples came by night and stole him away while we were asleep.” Matthew says in 28:15, “And this story is still told among the Judeans today.”
I leave this Resurrection passage with joy in my heart. I can answer Elaine’s question with all honesty and conviction: “Yes. Some reports claiming to document his resurrection speak of actual encounters with the risen Jesus, alive again after his death.” Friends, Jesus is still alive and present with us! And I am grateful for a God who chooses to use women—the powerless people of Christ’s day. People who didn’t even count legally as people when it came to witnesses.
It is my hope that Christ will make his loving presence known to you, especially in times of grief and loss. God knows that we are looking for the risen Savior in hope, just as the two Mary’s were long ago. Jesus knows we are looking for him, and the wonderful thing is that our Lord is looking for us, too. He will never stop looking and loving, no matter the questions we ask, no matter our doubts, which are part of our journeys of faith. Jesus tells us that he has come to seek and save the lost. May he greet us on the roads of our lives, saying, as he did to the Marys, “Rejoice!”
So, today on Easter, when you gather with family and friends, I pray that you will give thanks for your Risen Lord for seeking and saving you, and for the people whose faith has touched your life. I pray you will give thanks especially for the women, whose testimony would not have been considered legal or reliable in the time of the Marys. And whenever you encounter obstacles or great stones in your life, as we all do, may you trust God and the angels to guide you through them. Remember: Nothing is impossible with God!
You know, times change. I don’t know if Elaine is correct when she says that “many” people question the validity of the Resurrection today. But I know that Jesus Christ is the same, yesterday, today and forever! All that mattered for my Grandma was a simple faith in her Lord, praising God in church, and prayer when something troubled her. I think the one thing that strengthened her joy was when she sang. I would hear her humming and singing hymns not just in church but as she did chores around her home. She never sang pop songs. I overheard her telling her friend, Gladys, that she was saving her voice for the Lord. I can still hear her sweet soprano voice:
Hymns of praise then let us sing. Alleluia!
Unto Christ, our heavenly King! Alleluia!
Who endured the cross and grave. Alleluia!
Sinners to redeem and save. Alleluia!
Let us pray.
Holy One, we praise and thank you for raising your Son after three days and the promise of life everlasting with him. Thank you that he continues to seek and save the lost, revealing your love, mercy, and grace for sinners. Thank you for the courage of the women who stayed as Christ was crucified and buried and returned to the tomb in faith the next day. Thank you for all who have continued to believe in the Resurrection and share their faith. Send us out, dear Lord, to tell of the Living Christ, with the power to transform us and enable us to live new, abundant, resurrected lives today. Amen.
I listened to part of a podcast yesterday featuring Orlando pastors Jim Davis and Michael Graham. They are authors of The Great Dechurching,Who’s Leaving, Why Are They Going, and What Will It Take to Bring Them Back? They quote the findings of a Barna Group study that about 15 percent of American adults living today (around 40 million people) have effectively stopped going to church. More people have left the church in the last 25 years than all the new people who became Christians from the First Great Awakening, Second Great Awakening, and Billy Graham crusades combined.
Those who are “dechurched” are adult Americans who used to go to church on a monthly basis and now go less than once per year. C and E’s—those who come to church only on Christmas and Easter—are still “churched” and not counted among the “dechurched.” Another 60 million people, the study found, are among those who attend only on Christmas and Easter. Of the 40 million “dechurched,” the question is why did they leave? Davis and Graham say, “30 million of them said, very casually, “they moved.” The move was often associated with a family change, such as getting a divorce and becoming a single parent. They moved and didn’t seek out another church. The final 10 million are the ones who “painfully dechurched.” They left intentionally. “There was suffering. There was church hurt. There was clergy scandal.”
What led me to listen to the podcast was my Presbyterian 101 class on Thursday night at the manse. Everyone in my dining room was raised in the faith. Several shared stories of the churches that hurt them and let them down. One said that after the church refused to marry him, he decided that he would never go back. It wasn’t until many years later, after he started seeing a member of our congregation who loved her church, that he decided to give church another chance.
These Presbyterian 101 classes have led me to believe that a focus of our ministry here needs to be helping people heal from emotional and spiritual wounds and forgive and make peace with their past. I believe we are called to be a gentle, nonjudgmental listening ear. Be the loving presence of Christ. Hold one another up in prayer.
Joseph’s family back in Canaan are suffering after two years of severe famine across the land. His father, Israel, tells his brothers, in chapter 43, that they must return to Egypt and procure food for them. Judah persuades his father, Israel, to allow Benjamin—Israels’ youngest and the only living son of his beloved deceased wife, Rachel—to come with them.
Judah says, “Send the boy in my care, and let us be on our way, that we may live and not die—you and we and our children.”
They take with them zimrat ha-‘arets, choice produce of the land that are celebrated in Hebrew scripture and song as a gift, and a sign of submission to the man who still held their brother Simeon in a dungeon and let them live only if they promised to return with Benjamin. (They still don’t know that this “man,” who is second in command to Pharaoh, is their long-lost brother Joseph.) They take with them balm, honey, gum, ladanum, pistachios and almonds, and double the money they took with them before, including the money that was returned to their bags as they left, without their knowledge.
Israel blesses them as they go. “And may El Shaddai dispose the man to mercy towards you, that he may release to you your other brother, as well as Benjamin. As for me, if I am to be bereaved, I shall be bereaved.”
They return to Egypt and present themselves to Joseph.
What do you think happens next? Is Joseph ready to forgive and put the trauma of his past behind him?
When Joseph sees Benjamin, he reminds me of the father’s reaction to the prodigal son in the gospel of Luke. Joseph orders his steward to take the brothers into his home, and slaughter and prepare an animal, “for the men will dine with (him) at noon.”
The brothers are terrified at being brought into Joseph’s house. They think that they are going to be attacked and seized as slaves because of the money that was replaced in their bags on their first visit to Joseph for rations, when he accused them of being spies. They try to explain to the Egyptian steward what happened with the money, and the witness of Joseph’s faith is apparent when the steward replies, “All is well with you; do not be afraid. Your God, the God of your father, must have put treasure in your bags for you. I got your payment.” And he brings Simeon out to them, gives them water to bathe their feet and food for their donkeys.
The men spread out their gifts for Joseph and bow low to the ground when he arrives. Joseph’s prophetic dream at 17 has been fulfilled. Joseph asks if their aged father is still in good health. He is, they say. And then Joseph sees his brother Benjamin, “his mother’s son,” and Joseph blesses him. “May God be gracious to you, my boy.”
Afterward, he runs out because he is overcome with emotion and is on the verge of tears. He goes into another room, weeps, then washes his face and reappears—now in control of himself. At the meal, Benjamin is given the largest portion of them all—double what his brothers receive. Then Joseph orders the servants to fill their bags with grain and put each one’s money back inside. And there’s one more thing. He tells them to put a silver goblet into Benjamin’s bag, along with his money.
What’s going to happen?
At first light the next morning, in chapter 44, when the brothers are sent off with their pack animals, Joseph sends his steward after them to bring them back. He tells the steward to say, “Why did you repay good with evil?” And accuse them of stealing the goblet. The bags are searched; the goblet is discovered in Benjamin’s sack. The brothers tear their clothes in grief, load up their animals, and go back to the city. Joseph insists that the one with the goblet—Benjamin—must stay and be his slave.
Judah pleads their case at length, explaining that he is the only one left of his mother, the child of his father’s old age, the youngest. His “full brother (meaning Joseph) is dead,” he says. If they return home without Benjamin, their father will die. Judah begs Joseph to keep him as a slave, in Benjamin’s place. “For how can I got back to my father unless the boy is with me? Let me not be witness to the woe that would overtake my father.”
Joseph is no longer able to control himself. He commands his attendants to leave him as chapter 45 begins. Only the brothers remain. His sobs are so loud that the Egyptians can hear, and the news reaches the Pharoah’s palace. The second in command, the one who wears the finest robes, gold chains, the Pharoah’s signet ring on his hand and rides in a horse-drawn chariot, says, “I am Joseph. Is my father still well?”
His brothers are dismayed and confused. They still don’t recognize him. He invites them to draw nearer and explains how the Lord has used what they did to him to accomplish God’s purposes. Joseph has had years to process all that has happened since his journey to Egypt at 17, since the beginning of his journey to become the man God had planned for Joseph to be. He has made peace with his past and is ready to make peace with his family. He urges them to come and live near him in the land of Goshen outside Egypt—them and their father and children and grandchildren, flocks and herds—so that Joseph may care for and provide for them for the remaining 5 years of famine, when there will be no plowing or harvest.
Joseph not only forgives them, but he urges them to forgive themselves. “And now do not be distressed or angry with yourselves because you sold me here, for God sent me before you to preserve life. God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth and to keep alive for you many survivors. So it was not you who sent me here but God; he has made me a father to Pharaoh and lord of all his house and ruler over all the land of Egypt.”
Then he cries as he kisses and embraces Benjamin and all his brothers around their necks. Pharoah sends his brothers home in wagons to fetch their father and return with all their belongings. Only then is the spirit of Jacob revived. “Enough!” says Israel. “My son Joseph is still alive! I must go and see him before I die.”
On the way to Egypt, Israel stops at Beer-sheba, in chapter 46, and offers sacrifices to the God of his father, Isaac. God calls to Israel in a vision by night, saying, “Fear not to go down to Egypt, for I will make you there into a great nation. I Myself will go down with you to Egypt, and I Myself will also bring you back; and Joseph’s hand shall close your eyes.”
Joseph orders his chariot when his huge family arrives in Goshen, led by his brother, Judah. He meets his father, weeps on his neck, and Israel says, “Now I can die, having seen for myself that you are still alive.” Jacob will live 17 years in the land of Egypt. He will bless all his children and grandchildren before he lies down with his ancestors at the age of 147. We cannot help but think of his father Isaac, when Jacob’s eyes are “dim with age” and he cannot see. He blesses Joseph and bestows the younger son, Ephraim, with a greater blessing than the older one, Manasseh, just like Isaac’s younger son, Jacob, received a greater blessing than the older son Esau.
Israel breathes his last in chapter 49. But the story isn’t over, yet. The brothers need reassurance, in chapter 50, that Joseph will truly forgive and forget, now that their father has died. They send him a message, telling him that their father forgave them for the wrong they had done. His dying wish was that Joseph would forgive them, too. For forgiveness, much like healing from trauma, can take many years—for Joseph, his brothers, his father, and us, too. The ability to forgive is a gift from our God of mercy, but forgiveness is a journey that can take a lifetime. We are called to help one another along this journey. To be a gentle, nonjudgmental listening ear. To be the peaceful, loving presence of Christ for one another. And hold each other up in prayer.
Joseph is in tears when he tells his brothers, who threw him in a pit and sold him into slavery at 17, “Have no fear! Am I in the place of God? Besides, although you intended me harm, God intended it for good, to save the lives of many people. So then, don’t be afraid. I will provide for you and your children.” Joseph stays in Egypt for the rest of his life, along with all his father’s family. He lives to see children of the third generation of Ephraim. He blesses them all, like his father before him, before he dies at the age of 110.
Let us pray. God of Joseph, thank you for your love and great plan for our lives and our church. Thank you for always being with us, like you were Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and Joseph. Thank you for providing for us and giving us spiritual gifts to use for your glory, including the gift of forgiveness. We pray that you will help us all to heal from the traumas of the past and forgive ourselves for the parts that we played in them. We lift up the millions of dechurched people in this country and we ask that your Spirit would lead them back home to you and new church families. May they be healed by your love, mercy, and grace. May they and we be renewed in the faith and discover your purpose for our lives. In the name of our humble Savior we pray. Amen.
My youngest son, James, had a birthday yesterday. He turned 33! He is married to Andrea, and they live in North Mankato, Minnesota.
I think of my children every day. And I miss them because we are so far apart and have such busy lives. I never thought, when Joshua, Jacob, and James were little, that they would end up living in different states when they were grown.
I called James yesterday afternoon, and we talked for a while, and after we hung up, I missed him even more. But I am looking forward to his and Andrea’s visit after Easter when they come to housesit and care for our pets, while Jim and I are away.
Our children have very different personalities. Is that true for your kids? James has always been the peacemaker. He didn’t like it when there was any conflict in the family. Although he is the youngest, he has always been the responsible one, the one who worries about his older brothers. And he was the one who was the least shy of them all. Even as toddler, he wasn’t afraid to introduce himself to strangers. He made friends easily and wanted to please his teachers and parents.
But he was also the most sensitive and tenderhearted. And of my three boys, he was the most faithful. When I was a park chaplain, he was the one who walked with me from campsite to campsite, helping me invite people to children’s activities and worship on Sunday morning in the outdoor amphitheater. He was the one who insisted, when I was afraid to approach a large group of Harley riders in leather and spiked helmets, that they needed Jesus, too.
Joseph, the second to the youngest of 12, is the most faithful. He is the one with the spiritual gift of dreams with divine messages and the ability to interpret dreams that foretell the future. Though he lost his coat of many colors long ago, Joseph now wears robes of fine linen, gold chains, and Pharaoh’s signet ring.
The first time we see the word translated “chariot” in the Bible is when Joseph is riding in one. Chariots were first introduced in Egypt in the 8th century BCE as an instrument of warfare. (Sarna, JPS Torah Commentary: Genesis, 287). This chariot is a status symbol.
And there are other benefits with Joseph’s position as second in command. Pharoah says, “I am Pharaoh, yet without you, no one shall lift up hand or foot in all the land of Egypt.” (Meaning, “no action shall be taken” without your knowledge and assent.) And Pharaoh gives Joseph a new Egyptian name. Just as his father, Jacob, became Israel after he wrestled with an angel, Joseph will have a fresh start as Zaphenathpaneah. Pharaoh also gives him a wife—Asenath, daughter of Pot-phera, priest of the temple to the universal sun god Atum-Ra (later called ‘Helios’ by the Greeks).
Joseph is 30 years old when he is appointed Vizier (Prime Minister or Governor) of Egypt. The Pharaoh at the time may have been Amenemhat III (c.1678-1635BC). Joseph’s job leads him to travel throughout the land for the next 7 years of plenty. He makes sure the grain is gathered from the fields and stored in the cities. He collects a large quantity of produce, “like the sands of the sea, until he ceased to measure it, for it could not be measured.”
During the years of plenty, Joseph becomes the father of two sons with Asenath. The names of the sons tell us a great deal about Joseph’s state of mind. The first one is Manasseh, literally meaning, “he who causes to forget.” But Genesis 41:51 says the name means, “God has made me forget completely my hardship and my parental home.” Has he been able to heal from his brothers’ physical and emotional abuse? If he had truly forgotten it, he wouldn’t be mentioning it in the name of his first-born son. The second child is Ephraim, meaning, “God has made me fertile in the land of my affliction.” Has he forgotten the years of slavery and then being falsely accused and imprisoned in Potiphar’s house? No, he has not. He still sees Egypt as the “land of his affliction.”
But just as Joseph predicted, interpreting Pharoah’s dreams, the 7 years of abundance that the land of Egypt enjoyed come to an end. The 7 years of famine set in. When all Egypt experiences hunger and cries out to Pharaoh for bread, he tells them, “Go to Joseph; whatever he tells you, you shall do.” Joseph is the one who personally rations out grain not only to the Egyptians, but to everyone who comes for help.
The famine has extended to the land of Canaan. Chapter 42 begins with Jacob telling his sons that they need to go to Egypt and procure rations for the family, so that “they may live and not die.” The journey is at least 500 miles and will be the same journey that Joseph will make with his wife, Mary, and young Jesus, when they are fleeing from Herod in Matthew chapter 2.
Ten of Jacob’s sons make this journey on donkeys. Jacob doesn’t allow his youngest child, Benjamin, son of his beloved wife Rachel, to go with them. They make the journey, and they come before Joseph, who recognizes them and realizes that his dreams at 17 are now coming true. His brothers are bowing down to him.
Is anyone surprised at Joseph’s reaction to his brothers? He acts like a stranger to them, accuses them of being spies, and throws all 10 into the same dungeon where he languished for years, without hope of being released.
I believe he may be suffering from trauma. What we know about trauma today is that it takes time to heal. If the trauma goes on for years, as it did for Joseph, then his healing will take years, as well.
I discovered an article from January (https://alterbehavioralhealth.com/blog/stages-of-trauma-recovery/) that describes 7 stages of trauma, something like the stages of grief. The first four are: shock and denial, pain and anger, bargaining and shame, and grief and deep processing. The 5th is a turning point, when things start to change. The pain is not as severe. You have more good days than bad. You start thinking about the future and anger starts to cool down. The 6th is working through and integration. This stage is about rebuilding your life. You connect with people and do activities you enjoy. You set healthy boundaries and make new routines that support your healing. The 7th stage is acceptance, where trauma is a part of your life, but it doesn’t control you. You have learned from what happened and you can see how it changed you, because trauma changes you, but it doesn’t define who you are. Memories are not as painful. You are living a full life and not just surviving. You feel thankful for your own strength.
Who here thinks that Joseph has not reached the 7th stage of acceptance? I’m pretty sure he isn’t there, yet, despite all the years that have passed since he last saw his family.
He has a plan. His brothers are only in prison until they agree to go home and return with Benjamin. Joseph wants to see his beloved younger brother, with whom he shares a mother! Imagine how much he misses him! Benjamin was just a little boy when Joseph was taken as a slave to Egypt at 17. On the third day in prison, Joseph tells his brothers to bring Benjamin to him. “Do this and you shall live,” he promises. “For I am a God-fearing man.”
The brothers believe that actions have consequences, that we reap what we sow, though they don’t say specifically that God is punishing them for what they did to Joseph years before. “Because we looked on at his anguish yet paid no heed as he pleaded with us.” (This is the first time we hear that Joseph was pleading with his brothers when they threw him in the pit.) “That is why this distress has come upon us,” they say to each other. Do you remember the eldest? Reuben? The one who blamed himself for what happened, even though he didn’t do it? Reuben says, “Did I not tell you, ‘Do no wrong to the boy?’ But you paid no heed! Now comes the reckoning for his blood.”
They are speaking in front of Joseph, in a Canaanite dialect, and they don’t know that he understands every word. For there is an interpreter between him and them and Joseph is speaking an Egyptian language they don’t know. Joseph hears what they say, and he leaves the room so they can’t see that he is crying. Joseph has managed to rise to second in command over Egypt, and yet the thing that brings him to tears is his family problems. Is he crying because he realizes that they are sorry for what happened to him? Or is he crying at the memory of the years of trauma, remembering all the years that he has been angry with them, perhaps even hated them?
Joseph wipes his eyes, returns to them, takes his brother, Simeon, and has him bound while they watch. He releases the others with food for their starving households. For by now, all the brothers are married with children. Without them seeing him, he returns all the money that his brothers have brought to pay for the rations, slipping it into the bottom of the bags of grain so that they won’t discover it until they get home. This is a sign, I believe, that he wishes them no harm.
When the brothers return home without Simeon, and ask their father for Benjamin, Reuben, the oldest, says to his father, “You may kill my two sons if I don’t bring him back to you. Put him in my care, and I will return him to you.” But Jacob says, “No. My son must not go down with you, for his brother is dead and he alone is left.”
Jacob has 12 sons, but the only ones that truly matter to him are Joseph and Benjamin, Rachel’s children. He speaks as if Benjamin is the only son he has left.
The severe famine in the land continues. The rations will eventually run out.
Jacob is faced with a choice—let the whole family starve or risk sending one of his sons back to Egypt with his beloved Benjamin, whom he may never see again.
Will the family be reconciled? Will there be forgiveness? Will Joseph find healing after his years of trauma?
Come back next Sunday for the final chapter of the Joseph Story, “The Big Reveal.”
Let us pray.
Lord, we thank you for our families, for our children and grandchildren, whom we love. Thank you that each one is different, unique, and that you have a special plan for their lives. We lift up our children and grandchildren who may be struggling right now, especially those who are young adults. We ask that you be with them, guide and protect them, and provide for all their needs. Grant them wisdom and courage to weather these difficult times. We pray for peace in our families, dear Lord. Let there be forgiveness and healing wherever there is brokenness and hurt. Let your Spirit fill our hearts and households and reign over our lives, empowering us to walk in your loving ways. Amen.
Sharing God's Love and Grace 