April 22, 2007
The Third Sunday of Easter (Year C)
Acts 9:1-6, (7-20); Psalm 30; Revelation 5:11-14;
John 21:1-9
The readings this morning give me a tremendous amount of hope. I love the characters in the Bible – and it doesn’t really matter to me if they are all strictly historical figures or not, because what’s important to me is that they are all flawed, all multidimensional, all carry their histories to their daily lives and struggles. When I read biblical stories, I find I can identify with some of the feelings and struggles and personality traits of the characters. Take Saul: by the time of his conversion on the road to
The Bible is full of such characters. Think a moment about Simon Peter. This man who was to be known as “the rock”, the steadfast leader of the church, denied even knowing Jesus, not once but three times, at a time when things were going so wrong for Jesus and his early followers, and he was so afraid. Take David, who by God’s own choosing, became king of
In a literary style common in the bible, Saul, spiritually blinded by his rage and his sense of urgency to rid the world of the followers of Jesus, is blinded in the physical sense after his encounter along the road to Damascus with the risen Lord, Jesus. How often this happens to us. Can you think of a time when you were so resolute, so sure, so animated by your sense of the way things ought to be, that you were blinded by that certainty? that you couldn’t even begin to see another point of view? Have you ever been so comfortable in your way of being, (maybe too comfortable), that you knew, without question, what is right; that you saw things so clearly, that the world would be so much better a place, if only more people saw it your way? Have you ever been so absorbed in being right, that you lose your capacity for feeling and seeing and hearing any other story? And then, something happens, something, possibly dramatic but maybe subtle, that stops you cold, that knocks you off your horse and shakes you up a bit? Have you ever thought you knew someone or something, and then you had an experience that literally opened you up, provided you with a larger context, that didn’t just raise questions for you, but actually changed the way you looked at that person or that situation or even the world? an experience that transformed you into a person of deeper experience and understanding?
I know this has happened to me, many times. In my childhood years, like most kids, I sometimes suffered from the cruelty of classmates, who judged me not for who I was, but for the external things. I wore the wrong clothes, or I lived in the wrong house in the wrong neighborhood. I didn’t wear, or even care about, make-up and my father didn’t earn nearly enough money. It seemed to me that I was trapped in the glaring spotlight of their taunts, or in the loneliness of being invisible to them. Like Saul, I became full of anger. And as a very young adult, I passed that judgment onto others: if you were wealthy, you were a snob; if you reacted badly in a situation, it was not about behavior but character. It was a black and white world with no second chances. And then, one of those tormentors of mine, whom I thought I knew but didn’t really like, died suddenly. In the days that followed, as I heard family and friends recount stories of her life, her personality quirks, her stubbornness and her passions, she became a person to me, a multidimensional, complex, and beautiful person. And though I was still unmoved by discussions of mascara and lipstick, that rigidity that trapped me began to drop away. Our God, who teaches through experience, encounter and relationships, taught and continues to teach me. Through stories and through moments of clarity and insight, I learned, am still learning, of the richness, the contradictions, and the glorious complexity of the world around me. Our God, who peels back the layers of our experience and illuminates the dark corners, draws us deeper into relationship.
Jesus saw Saul, his passion and his blindness, and what he held in his heart, and asked the simple question, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” And Saul, now physically blinded, was led away into
Jesus, in a drama full of parallels with the denial story and in the knowledge of what Simon Peter held in his heart, questioned him three times, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” In this simple act, Jesus offered an opportunity for redemption and a call to go out and to care for the beginning church. Transformation, followed by action.
In one of her “daily eMos” Barbara Crafton asks the question, “How clearly do the things you choose to say and to show the world and those you love most in it, who you wish to be?” In our scripture readings this morning, God shows the world that no one is beyond His redemption. He knows what is held in the human heart, and if we will only be open and love Him, he will unlock our hidden potential and transform us into agents of reconciliation. And we, bathed in this new light and secure in the all encompassing love and compassion, can then show the world and those we love most in it, what is in our hearts, and who we wish to be
Amen.
The Rev.
Church of the Good Shepherd