SEVENTH SUNDAY OF EASTER

Acts 1:6-14

Psalm 68:1-10; 32-35

1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11

John 17:1-11

Prayer of the Day: O God of glory, your Son Jesus Christ suffered for us and ascended to your right hand. Unite us with Christ and each other in suffering and in joy, that all the world may be drawn into your bountiful presence, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“And now I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect [my disciples] in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one.” John 17:11.

“In the world, but not of it.” It would be a gross misreading of this text to assume that when Jesus says he is praying for his disciples, not the world at large, that he regards the world a lost cause and can only hope that his disciples will manage to survive until he takes them to himself. To understand Jesus’ prayer properly, we need to hear it in the context of John’s gospel as a whole. Recall that in the first chapter of the gospel John the Baptist identifies Jesus as “the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.” John 1:29. In the third chapter, the evangelist declares that “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son” and that “God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world but in order that the world might be saved through him.” John 3:16-17. When Judas asked Jesus why he was revealing himself to the disciples rather than to the world, he responded, “Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.” John 14:23. Jesus prayer that his disciples will be one even as he and his Father are one, is made with the Easter morning great commission in mind: “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” John 20:21. The disciples are sent out clothed with the Holy Spirit to continue Jesus’ mission of flooding the world with God’s redemptive love.

What, then, does it look like to be distinct from the world as a disciple of Jesus, yet inseparable from it? How can one be against the world and yet for the world? The analogy I would suggest is that of an “intervention.” The working definition I will use for the term comes from the website for Scienceinsights:

“An intervention is any deliberate action taken to change the course of a situation, whether that’s a health condition, a behavioral crisis, a learning difficulty, or an addiction. The word shows up across medicine, psychology, education, and substance abuse treatment, but the core idea is always the same: stepping in with a plan to improve an outcome that won’t improve on its own.”

The specific context I have in mind is that of intervention to address addiction. The process typically involves members of the person’s social network gathering together and directly describing the specific harm that the individual’s addictive behavior has caused. Each participant shares personal examples and states what actions they will take if the person refuses treatment. Though confrontational by design, the tone is meant to come from love and deep concern rather than anger.

We can view the cross as, among other things, God’s cosmic intervention. That the world would not only reject but cruelly execute the one in whom God’s very self is revealed makes crystal clear how far off the rails it has gone and the self destructive direction in which it is headed. Yet, at the same time, the cross reveals the depth of God’s love for it and the length to which God is willing to go in order to alter its ruinous path. The Resurrection emphasizes God’s unwillingness to throw in the towel even in the face of the world’s rejection.

Intervention is confrontational. Evil, especially in the form of systemic injustice and oppression needs to be addressed with clarity and frankness. In the American context, that means speaking the truth about America as it is experienced by those within our borders living on the margins. That includes, undocumented persons living the shadows, the homeless living in the streets, gay, lesbian and transgender youth forced to live a lie to avoid family rejection, religious condemnation and governmental oppression. It includes prisoners incarcerated in corporately owned and operated facilities. Intervention means standing up to governmental efforts to erase from libraries, schools and public parks and monuments the stories of indigenous peoples murdered and driven from their homes, enslaved persons deprived of freedom and human dignity and the brutality experienced by child laborers, all in an effort to present a sanitized version of American history for public patriotic consumption. Such interventional ministry is not inconsistent with love for one’s country anymore than intervention in a loved one’s addictive behavior is contrary to genuine affection and concern.

Intervention might well meet with resistance. It is natural for people confronted with the consequences of their addictive behavior to become angry and defensive. It is natural for them to feel, initially at least, that they are being attacked and bullied. That is why persons involved with an intervention must be prepared to remain patient, avoid responding reflexively to insults and accusations and stick to the objective, namely, helping the persons subject to the intervention understand both their need and the willingness of the interveners to assist. Jesus warns his disciples that they can expect the world’s hostility to their ministry. “If the world hates you, be aware that it hated me before it hated you.” The disciples have no reason to expect any better treatment than Jesus himself received from the world.  But as Jesus refused to give up on the world, so his disciples must continue in doing the works that Jesus did and in speaking not condemnation, but redemption for the world.

Finally, intervention may not work. For any number of reasons, a person might finally reject life saving assistance offered by loved ones. Interveners need to understand that, while they can offer support, assistance and care, they cannot “fix” a broken person. Ingrained habits, outlooks on life and ways of coping with stress are difficult to shake and seldom yield in the course of a single encounter. For that reason, it is important to anticipate failure and be prepared to persevere in speaking the truth in love, neither condemning the affected individual nor further enabling their self destructive conduct. The gospel of Jesus Christ is good news. But sometimes the good news must be experienced as bad news before it can be heard and understood as good.

In the same way, disciples of Jesus are not called to redeem the world. That is God’s role. They are called rather to bear witness before the world to God’s redemptive work by carrying on the works of Jesus in their lives together. God knows this world needs an intervention. This is a world careening toward the carnage of increasingly wide ranging and lethal war, economic disparity and ecological ruin. This is a world in which nations and national leaders exercise godlike power reducing to rubble whole communities. It is a world where governments incarcerate, abuse and deport refugees fleeing violence and starvation. Ours is a world where people and communities identifying as Christian espouse racist, misogynist, homophobic hate and nationalism. Nevertheless, it is the world God loved enough to send the beloved Son. Disciples of Jesus are to be an alternative community demonstrating a different way of being human. The church at its best is a disruptive presence, calling into question the values of a world drunk on power, addicted to unsustainable consumption and teetering on the brink of destruction through its own violence.

This uncomfortable work of intervention requires families to confront members caught up in the tangled swamp of lies emanating from crackpot Christianity, junk science and bizarre conspiracy nonsense. It requires pastors and bishops to preach Christ crucified in America’s detention centers, in the rubble left by American bombs and in the hungry, homeless and sick living in the shadow of obscene degrees of wealth. It requires those of us who have known only privilege, comfort and prosperity as Americans to open the eyes of our hearts to see the ones who daily pay the price for our relative wellbeing and work to dismantle the systemic injustice responsible for such disparity. This is work that is uncomfortable and dangerous. It can get you killed. But the God who loved this world enough to intervene asks nothing less of us.

Here is a poem by Sonia Sanchez that I believe expresses something of what it is like to be a living intervention in, against yet for the world.

Morning Song and Evening Walk

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4.

5.

Source: Shake Loose My Skin: New and Selected Poems (Beacon Press, 1999). Sonia Sanchez (born Wilsonia Benita Driver in 1934) is an American poet, writer and professor. She is a leading figure in the Black Arts Movement. Sanchez has written several books of poetry. She has also authored short stories, critical essays, plays and children’s books. She received Pew Fellowship in the Arts in 1993. In 2001 she was awarded the Robert Frost Medal for her contributions to American poetry. You can read more about Sonia Sanchez and sample more of her poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

SIXTH SUNDAY OF EASTER

Acts 17:22-31

Psalm 66:8-20

1 Peter 3:13-22

John 14:15-21

Prayer of the Day: Almighty and ever-living God, you hold together all things in heaven and on earth. In your great mercy receive the prayers of all your children, and give to all the world the Spirit of your truth and peace, through Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“They who have my commandments and keep them are those who love me, and those who love me will be loved by my Father, and I will love them and reveal myself to them.” John 14:21.

It is well known that some 80% of white evangelicals voted for Donald Trump in 2016 and 2024. It is also clear that evangelical leaders such as Rev. Franklin Graham, Rev. Douglas Willson, Ralph Reed openly and forcefully endorse the president and his agenda which, in turn, has come to shape the preaching, teaching and ministry of numerous evangelical churches. The fact remains, however, that 20% of white evangelicals did not vote for Donald Trump and that many of these believers are deeply troubled by the infiltration of his political priorities into the life of their congregations. Recently, the Christian Century has pondered the possibility that these evangelical refugees might find a home in the churches of mainline Christianity. Michelle Van Loon, a former evangelical, addresses this question in her article, “Four things mainline churches should know about ex-evangelicals.”[1]

Van Loon notes that 3% percent of Americans who have changed their religious affiliation in the last year now identify as mainline or nonevangelical Protestants. That is hardly a mass movement, but it is not insignificant either. Still, I am doubtful that defections from white evangelicalism represents for mainline churches like my own a “field white for harvest.” Like Van Loon, I was “a child of the Jesus movement that swept the country in the late 1960s and early ’70s.” Though I never parted company with my Lutheran tradition, I worshiped with “Jesus People” communities and attended meetings of Intervarsity and Campus Crusade for Christ. I was drawn to evangelicalism by its focus on a deep and personal relationship with Jesus, though again, like Van Loon, I could never point to a particular moment in my life where I “committed my life to Jesus.” Unfortunately, what I found lacking in my Lutheran church community back in my Jesus People days continues to be lacking.[2]

Complaints against evangelical megachurches made by their defectors can be made as readily against our mainline churches, e.g., too much emphasis on programming, politics and fund raising. Too little emphasis on cultivating personal faith and discipleship. As I have said elsewhere, what drew me toward evangelicalism in the first place is what finally led me away from it, namely, Jesus. I became convinced that following Jesus involved more than personal salvation for my own soul and renewal of my individual life-as important as these things clearly are. The Jesus I came to know from the preaching of Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. and Rev. James Cone; the writings of Gustavo Gutierez, Walter Bruggerman, John Douglas Hall and Stanley Hauerwas was ultimately too big for my evangelical faith. Nevertheless, I continue to count myself an evangelical in this sense, namely, that devotion to Jesus of Nazareth is the core of my faith and life. I believe that to be the core also for many who are parting company with their evangelical communities having their faith still intact.

Sadly, I cannot say with certainty that these refugees will recognize Jesus in the typical Lutheran congregation as the glue holding it together.[3] Van Loon points out that “Mainline denominations seem more focused on simply loving their neighbors, no strings attached. If there is a downside to this approach, it is that some mainliners go silent regarding why they’re serving others…” Does that really make any difference? I think it does. The love of which Jesus speaks is not the sort limited to national identity, tribal affiliation or congregational membership. According to our gospel lesson, love means keeping Jesus’ commandments, the principal ones being to love God with all one’s heart and to love one’s neighbor as oneself. And lest there be any mistake about it, the parable of the Good Samaritan makes clear that love for one’s neighbor knows no limit.

Furthermore, for Jesus love is not a strategy for some higher goal. It does not matter whether love for creation expressed in picking trash up on the beach makes a dent in the massive dumping to which our oceans are subject. It does not matter whether public witness for justice and peace move the needle of political machinery to that end. It does not matter whether the enemies we are called to love are moved by our love to change their hateful and aggressive ways. “What’s the use?” is not an excuse. Indeed, disciples of Jesus are called to practice the dictates of the Sermon on the Mount even when they seem to undermine what we believe to be worthy goals. For that reason, a community held together by nothing more than common objectives, however noble they might be, is not enough.

Though the co-option of evangelical leaders and many evangelical churches by the hateful ideologies of Christian nationalism is disheartening, evangelicalism is not altogether a lost cause. There are notable examples of evangelicals seeking to recover the centrality of Jesus for Christian faith. Rev. John Mark Comer has won a substantial following by challenging young people to disengage from the destructiveness of electronic and social media in order to focus on discipleship. Comer’s ministry and teaching is outlined in a recent article by Nancy Walecki in the Atlantic.[4] Comer looks to the life of Jesus as a countercultural way of regaining our humanity and maintaining our spiritual health in this digitalized twenty-first century. Inspired by the monastic order of Saint Benedict, Comer urges his audience to incorporate nine practices of Jesus into their lives. They consist of the following: daily reading of scripture, service to the larger community; keeping the sabbath by practicing solitude; prayer, fasting-which includes abstinence from digital devices, corporate worship, witness and generosity.

Comer’s critics characterize his writings and preaching as little more than self help mantras cloaked in biblical wrapping. While there are obviously parallels to be drawn with self help literature, Comer insists that the practices he encourages are rooted in those of historic Christianity. They are not intended to produce personal happiness, fulfillment or contentment. Rather, they are instruments through which the Holy Spirit forms one’s character into the image of Christ. By imitating Jesus, one becomes more like Jesus. That same sentiment has been central to Christian spirituality from the beginning,

Another example of Jesus centered spirituality is found in the “He Gets Us” movement “that invites all people to consider Jesus and why he matters.” Its mission consists of calling people to “show up in unexpected places and share a story about Jesus in a way that sparks curiosity and invites conversation.” The campaign ran several striking ads throughout the Superbowl this year. According to its website,

“He Gets Us is led by Come Near, a group of people moved to raise the public conversation about Jesus. The He Gets Us campaign is not affiliated with any single individual, political position, or faith denomination. Our creators, partners, and supporters represent a variety of faith journeys, lived experiences, and perspectives, all of which contribute to the work we have produced to date. We all share one common goal: to invite people to rethink their perception of Jesus and what he could mean for us today.”   

This evangelical approach represents a refreshing change from the all too common practice of telling people who Jesus is, why they need him and what will happen to them if they refuse to accept him as presented. It reflects rather the very biblical approach to evangelism expressed by Saint Philip who, in response to the skepticism concerning Jesus expressed by his friend Nathaniel, replied simply “come and see.” Isn’t that the only thing we really need to do?

The contribution made by evangelicalism to the life of the church is its emphasis on faith that is relational. At its best, the movement and the churches it has spawned remind us that discipleship is not about acceptance of dogma, but about trusting and following a person, namely, Jesus. Evangelicals remind us that the best and perhaps only evidence for the truth of the Resurrection is the fact that Jesus continues to draw people to himself from all quarters. We should be encouraged to discover that their ministries are reaching people outside the church, people who have left the church and people who have no interest in the church, drawing them into conversation about Jesus. I hope and pray that the same interest will awaken within my own and other mainline churchs where Jesus has too often been marginalized.  

Here is a poem by Countee Cullen about Simon Cyrene, the man who the gospels tell us was compelled to carry the cross of Jesus. The poem asks us to consider the source of that compulsion and speaks of the kind of faith that evangelicalism, at its best, seeks to recapture.

Simon the Cyrenian Speaks

Source: My Soul’s High Song: The Collected Writings of Countee Cullen, (edit. Gerald Early; c. 1990 by New York: Doubleday). Countee Cullen (1903-1986) was an American poet, novelist, children’s writer, and playwright, particularly well known during the Harlem Renaissance. It is known that he was born on May 30, 1903 to Elizabeth Thomas Lucas. Due to a lack of records from his childhood, however, his birthplace is unknown. At the age of fifteen, he was adopted by Reverend Frederick A. Cullen, pastor of Salem Methodist Episcopal Church, Harlem’s largest such congregation. Taking the name of his adoptive father, Cullen entered the DeWitt Clinton High School, then located in Hell’s Kitchen. There he excelled academically and started writing poetry. After graduating from high school, he attended New York University (NYU).  Cullen graduated from NYU in 1925 and then attended Harvard to pursue a masters in English. While there he published his first collection of poems.

The cultural movement known as the Harlem Renaissance marked a creative explosion of literature, art and music contributed by African-American writers, artists and musicians. Cullen was at the epicenter of this new-found surge in literature. By 1929 he had published four volumes of poetry. In addition to his own writing, Cullen promoted the work of other black writers to national publishers. From 1934 until the end of his life, he taught English, French and creative writing at Frederick Douglass Junior High School in New York City. You can read more about Countee Cullen and sample more of his poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

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[1] Van Loon, Michelle, “Four things mainline churches should know about ex-evangelicals,” Christian Century, (March 2026, Volume 143, Issue #3)

[2]  I have shared my own sojourn with evangelicalism in my article, Cosmic Christ and Confessions of a Former Evangelical.  

[3] I have shared previously an incident occurring toward the end of my ministry that illustrates the point. I attended a workshop sponsored by my church focusing on ways toward spiritual renewal for our congregations. For an hour and a half we engaged in exercises designed to stimulate conversation, discussion and strategizing for church growth. Toward the end of the meeting, one of the facilitators asked if we had any questions or comments about this proposed program. I raised my hand and asked the facilitator whether she was aware that not once during the entire process did the name of Jesus come up and whether that was inadvertent or intentional. (I thought about adding that I was not sure which answer would be the more disturbing). She did not have much of an answer. Another facilitator finally spoke up and said in a decidedly irritated tone, “I don’t think it is necessary to invoke the Trinity after every single paragraph.” (For the record, I do not recall any references to God the Father or the Holy Spirit either.)

[4] Walecki, Nancy, “Can Turning Off Your Computer Bring You Closer to God?” Atlantic, (May 2026).

THIRD SUNDAY OF EASTER

Acts 2:14a, 36-41

Psalm 116:1-4, 12-19

1 Peter 1:17-23

Luke 24:13-35

Prayer of the Day: O God, your Son makes himself known to all his disciples in the breaking of bread. Open the eyes of our faith, that we may see him in his redeeming work, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

 “To the exiles of the dispersion in Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia, who have been chosen and destined by God the Father and sanctified by the Spirit to be obedient to Jesus Christ and to be sprinkled with his blood” I Peter 1:1-2.

The New Testament writers frequently employ the narratives of “exile,” nomadic existence and marginalization in the life of Israel as metaphors for the church’s life in the time between Jesus’ resurrection and his return to reign over a renewed creation. The role call of saints in the Letter to the Hebrews comes to mind. See Hebrews 11. The author says concerning the heroes of the Hebrew Scriptures that they “suffered mocking and flogging and even chains and imprisonment. They were stoned to death; they were sawn in two; they were killed by the sword; they went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, persecuted, tormented—of whom the world was not worthy. They wandered in deserts and mountains and in caves and holes in the ground.” Hebrews 11:36-38. Jesus warns his disciples in John’s gospel that “[b]ecause you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world, therefore the world hates you.” John 15:19. Paul reminds the church at Phillipi that “our citizenshipis in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.” Philippians 3:20.

Nevertheless, though not being “of” the world, disciples of Jesus are very much “in” the world and have been for the last two millennia. Consequently, the church is confronted in every generation with the same question: what does it mean for us to live in the world as “resident aliens”? How do we live and engage with the dominant culture? What is our duty with regard to the governments under which we live? What principles guide our commercial dealings with the rest of the world?

Pastor and theologian, H. Richard Niebuhr addressed this issue in his seminal book, Christ and Culture, Niebuhr, H. Richard (c. 1975 by Harper & Row). Niebuhr identifies three ways in which theologians and church communities have approached the relationship between the Body of Christ and the world. 1) discipleship as life in opposition to culture (Christ against culture);

2) discipleship lived in agreement with culture (Christ of culture; and 3) a combination that incorporates insights from both of these two views (Christ above culture). The first of these takes the view that loyalty to Christ and the church entails a rejection of culture and society. The second views Jesus as the fulfiller of society’s hopes and aspirations. He is the supreme teacher directing human culture to the attainment of wisdom, morality, and peace. In the third and more nuanced view, Christian discipleship is lived in dialogue with the world, sometimes working in and through societal structures seeing their improvement, sometimes challenging those structures and even calling for their abolition or replacement and sometimes seeking to convert them such that they serve the aims of God’s promised reign.

It should be noted that Niebuhr recognizes the artificialities of his categories. Monastic communities, though living in ways quite contrary to the ways of the rest of the world, have provided numerous services and contributions to society. So, too, many communities believing in the perfection of humanity through culture did so by forming utopian societies they hoped would inspire the rest of the world to emulate. There is, of course, no clear lines of demarcation between the third category and the prior two. Moreover, Niebuhr recognizes a degree of legitimacy in all these approaches and advises his readers against adopting any single view to the exclusion of all others. He warns us that no one single approach constitutes “the answer” for all times and places.

I think the same diversity exists within the New Testament. Both the epistles of Peter and Paul urge Christians to pray for “those in authority.” Though these authorities had names like Nero and Caligula, they were nonetheless instruments God employed to maintain a degree of order in the world, however imperfect and corrupt it might be. In the Book of Acts, Paul appeals to the justice of Rome to adjudicate the claims made against him by the religious leaders in Jerusalem. On the other hand, in the Book of Revelation Saint John of Patmos portrays the Roman empire as a “beast,” and instrument employed by the devil to oppress the saints and operate as the “destroyer of the earth.” So far from praying for the emperor, John prays for and rejoices in the empires’ downfall. He sees underneath its wealth, prosperity and power the ugly specters of slavery, oppression and violence. Following Jesus demands nothing short of faithful witness to God’s reign of justice, reconciliation and peace over against the tyranny of Rome.

Like H. Richard Niebuhr, I do not believe we are compelled to decide between Paul and John of Patmos. The circumstances of the church in Greece and Syria were different from those experienced by the churches of Asia Minor in John’s time. In both cases, however, the church was a marginal presence. Paul’s congregations lived uneasily under the shadow of an empire that was always potentially hostile to them, but largely indifferent. John’s churches experienced the full force of Rome’s cruelty and oppression. Saint Paul faced an empire to which he could appeal on grounds of a shared belief in justice and due process. Saint John dealt with an empire posing an existential threat not only to the church, but to humanity in general. For Paul, Rome was an instrument, however flawed, of justice and good order. For John, it was a ravenous beast. We can therefore say that both apostles preached faithfully to their churches within their unique respective contexts.

Both Paul and John of Patmos understood their churches to be “exiles,” a community of sojourners whose ultimate loyalty belonged to a kingdom that remains hidden. Still, they lived within the borders and under the jurisdiction of cities, towns and localities that were all finally subject to Rome. The communities in which they lived rightly expected the believers to participate in the common life, bear their share of the burden pursuing the common good and respect the cultural behavioral standards of law, courtesy and civility. The church was never intended to be a world unto itself. Nevertheless, at the end of the day the disciples were given to understand that they had but one Lord and their ultimate allegiance belonged solely to the reign of God he proclaimed. No decree of any nation or ruler is above Jesus’ command to love God with all the heart with all the soul, with all the mind and with all the strength and to love one’s neighbor as oneself. Thus, when the demands of the empire diverged from the commands of Jesus, the disciples were required to “obey God rather than any human authority.” Acts 5:29.  

Jesus’ resurrection represents the repudiation of imperial overreach. Rome exercised its law to convict Jesus and its godlike power to execute Jesus. God reversed Rome’s verdict. That ruling liberates disciples of Jesus to live in and serve the world God made and aims to redeem while remaining free from the overreaching delusions of godhood held by the principalities and powers that would enslave it. It is, as Martin Luther once said, “to be a perfectly free lord of all” while at the same time being “a perfectly dutiful servant of all.”  

To be an exile is to live with the pain of absence while knowing the joy of an anticipated homecoming. It is to be at home away from home.

Here is a poem by Emma Lazarus about exiles being fully and freely themselves in a foreign land.

In Exile

“Since that day till now our life is one unbroken paradise. We live a true brotherly life. Every evening after supper we take a seat under the mighty oak and sing our songs.”Extract from a letter of a Russian refugee in Texas.

Source: Emma Lazarus: Selected Poems and Other Writings (2002). Emma Lazarus (1849-1887) is most famous for the words inscribed on the Statute of Liberty from her poem, The New Colossus:

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

Lazarus was one of the first successful and publicly recognized Jewish American authors. She was born in New York City to a wealthy family. She began writing and translating poetry as a teenager and was publishing translations of German poems by the 1860s. Lazarus was moved by the fierce persecution of her people in Russia, a frequent topic of her writings, as well as their struggles to assimilate into American culture. You can sample more of Emma Lazarus’ poetry and read more about her at the Poetry Foundation website.

SECOND SUNDAY OF EASTER

Acts 2:14, 22-32

Psalm 16

1 Peter 1:3-9

John 20:19-31

Prayer of the Day: Almighty and eternal God, the strength of those who believe and the hope of those who doubt, may we, who have not seen, have faith in you and receive the fullness of Christ’s blessing, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

“Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’” John 20:21.

“A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’” John 20:26.

Eight days after the disciples had been empowered with the Holy Spirit and commissioned to go out and declare the good of Jesus’ resurrection and God’s limitless love and forgiveness for the world, we find them still hiding behind locked doors. If Jesus didn’t actually say it to the disciples, I can’t help wondering whether he was thinking, “And what part of the word ‘send’ do you people not understand?” It does not get any better after this. Rather than following Jesus’ command, given now for the second time, to go out into the world with the good news, the disciples retreat to Galilee and return to their old lives and their previous occupation, namely, fishing. Once again, the risen Christ must confront them and lead them away from their boats and their nets out into the mission for which they were called.

The church has always resisted the notion that it is “sent,” that it is a nomadic people rather than a settled community, a movement into the future rather than an institution devoted to preserving the past, a living organism rather than a static organization. It is telling, I think, that we frequently refer to our places of worship as “sanctuaries,” safe places in which we can seek refuge from the world. It is as though, like the disciples, we celebrate Jesus’ resurrection, his victory over death and the defeat of the forces of evil in the cross from behind doors bolted fast against the world that so desperately needs to hear this good news. I have to wonder whether the risen Christ might also be saying to us on this first Sunday after Easter, “So, friends, what are you all still doing here?”

There are some hopeful signs on the horizon suggesting that the church might finally be getting the message. Recently the board of directors for Luther Seminary, the school from which I received my M.Div., voted unanimously to divest from its current physical campus in Saint Paul in order to shift to a more nimble model of theological education and pastoral formation. To that end, the seminary is seeking a new facility in the Twin Cities area that meets the needs of its educational mission while enabling it to continue on for the foreseeable future in both a faithful and sustainable manner. It should be pointed out that this was not a move of desperation born of financial crisis. The seminary is currently well endowed. The decision to move out of its current facility was based on the recognition that the world to which we are called to minister presents challenges the seminary is unable to meet effectively through its current campus setting.  

I must admit that I was initially saddened by this news. The Luther Seminary campus in St. Paul has served my church for over one hundred and twenty years. I remember the first time I set eyes on Bochman Hall’s majestic Corinthian pillars from the end of its walkway marked with a stone Celtic cross. (Pictured above). Every time I passed through the doors of the massive library in Gullixon Hall, I was overcome with a sense of awe. Here in this one place were housed the products of great minds, souls and examples of sainthood. The musty scent of ancient volumes from the stacks stretching over six stories was a constant reminder that my little life, a mere nanosecond in the communion of saints, gains a holy significance through my incorporation into that great community embracing the whole planet and extending throughout all time and space. It saddens me to think that Luther Seminary’s ancient lecture halls where so much profound teaching, so many lively discussions and such deep learning took place will soon be silent and empty.

That said, I think the board of directors made the right call. As those who follow me know, I have expressed many times my concerns about the future of seminary education such as its prohibitive cost, the shape of its curriculum and the threat to genuine community posed by resort to virtual teaching. I do not have ready answers to these concerns, but I am convinced that locking ourselves into the comfortable places and patterns of the past is not the solution to any of these challenges. We need to raise up a generation of pastoral leaders that is diverse, theologically educated and spiritually well formed. Moreover, we need to do that without burdening our graduates with crushing educational debt. In order to meet that challenge, Luther Seminary must step outside the safety, security and comfort of its historic campus, its educational traditions and its established spiritual practices.

We should not be too hard on the disciples. The dangers they feared were very real. The same imperial powers that crucified Jesus were still at work in the world. The leaders who arrested Jesus and turned him over to Pilate for execution surely would not hesitate to do the same to any one of his disciples. Keeping out of sight and behind locked doors was not unreasonable. On the contrary, it was probably the safest course of action. But Jesus does not call upon his disciples to play it safe. They are sent, as was Jesus, to announce the gentle, just and peaceful reign of God to a hostile world. Where Jesus is, on the margins, identifying with the victims of empire and, not merely speaking but “being” truth to power, there his disciples must be also. John 12:26.

So let us not be seduced by the siren song of “againism,” whether it be the call to make America great “again” or to make the church great “again.” Let us not be deceived into believing that there was once a “golden age” somewhere in the past and that getting back to that “old time religion,” returning to “traditional values” or going back to our “Lutheran confessional roots” is going to redeem us. Today is the day the Lord has made. Psalm 118:24. It is not for us to turn up our nose at it and pine for some other bygone day. Unbelief fears the future and lives today fixated on the rearview mirror. Faith rejoices in today and looks hopefully and imaginatively toward the future.   

John’s gospel ends with the disciples finally venturing out from behind locked doors, leaving their fish nets and boats behind and following Jesus into the new life he promised. It begs for a sequel, and I believe one is written in the witness of each generation of believers. See John 21:24-25. In every generation, there is the choice to write a new chapter or vainly attempt to relive the prior one. I believe Jesus is calling us to step out of our sanctuaries, stop clinging for dear life to our institutions and leave behind the ivy covered palaces of learning belonging to a world that no longer exists. Where will that bring us and what will we find there? “Never mind,” says Jesus. “Follow me.” John 21:20-23.  

Here is the poem by Walt Whitman constituting a clarion call to step outside and onto the open road. I believe we hear an echo of Jesus’ beckoning call in the final stanza,

“[I] give you my hand!

I give you my love more precious than money,

I give you myself before preaching or law;

Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me?

Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?”

Song of the Open Road
1
Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.

The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)

2
You road I enter upon and look around, I believe you are not all that is here,
I believe that much unseen is also here.

Here the profound lesson of reception, nor preference nor denial,
The black with his woolly head, the felon, the diseas’d, the illiterate person, are not denied;
The birth, the hasting after the physician, the beggar’s tramp, the drunkard’s stagger, the laughing party of mechanics,
The escaped youth, the rich person’s carriage, the fop, the eloping couple,

The early market-man, the hearse, the moving of furniture into the town, the return back from the town,
They pass, I also pass, any thing passes, none can be interdicted,
None but are accepted, none but shall be dear to me.

3
You air that serves me with breath to speak!
You objects that call from diffusion my meanings and give them shape!
You light that wraps me and all things in delicate equable showers!
You paths worn in the irregular hollows by the roadsides!
I believe you are latent with unseen existences, you are so dear to me.

You flagg’d walks of the cities! you strong curbs at the edges!
You ferries! you planks and posts of wharves! you timber-lined sides! you distant ships!

You rows of houses! you window-pierc’d façades! you roofs!
You porches and entrances! you copings and iron guards!
You windows whose transparent shells might expose so much!
You doors and ascending steps! you arches!
You gray stones of interminable pavements! you trodden crossings!
From all that has touch’d you I believe you have imparted to yourselves, and now would impart the same secretly to me,
From the living and the dead you have peopled your impassive surfaces, and the spirits thereof would be evident and amicable with me.

4
The earth expanding right hand and left hand,
The picture alive, every part in its best light,
The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is not wanted,
The cheerful voice of the public road, the gay fresh sentiment of the road.

O highway I travel, do you say to me Do not leave me?
Do you say Venture not—if you leave me you are lost?
Do you say I am already prepared, I am well-beaten and undenied, adhere to me?

O public road, I say back I am not afraid to leave you, yet I love you,
You express me better than I can express myself,
You shall be more to me than my poem.

I think heroic deeds were all conceiv’d in the open air, and all free poems also,
I think I could stop here myself and do miracles,
I think whatever I shall meet on the road I shall like, and whoever beholds me shall like me,
I think whoever I see must be happy.

5
From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines,
Going where I list, my own master total and absolute,
Listening to others, considering well what they say,
Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,
Gently,but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me.
I inhale great draughts of space,
The east and the west are mine, and the north and the south are mine.

I am larger, better than I thought,
I did not know I held so much goodness.

All seems beautiful to me,
I can repeat over to men and women You have done such good to me I would do the same to you,
I will recruit for myself and you as I go,
I will scatter myself among men and women as I go,
I will toss a new gladness and roughness among them,
Whoever denies me it shall not trouble me,
Whoever accepts me he or she shall be blessed and shall bless me.

6
Now if a thousand perfect men were to appear it would not amaze me,
Now if a thousand beautiful forms of women appear’d it would not astonish me.

Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons,
It is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth.

Here a great personal deed has room,
(Such a deed seizes upon the hearts of the whole race of men,
Its effusion of strength and will overwhelms law and mocks all authority and all argument against it.)

Here is the test of wisdom,
Wisdom is not finally tested in schools,
Wisdom cannot be pass’d from one having it to another not having it,
Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof,
Applies to all stages and objects and qualities and is content,
Is the certainty of the reality and immortality of things, and the excellence of things;
Something there is in the float of the sight of things that provokes it out of the soul.

Now I re-examine philosophies and religions,
They may prove well in lecture-rooms, yet not prove at all under the spacious clouds and along the landscape and flowing currents.

Here is realization,
Here is a man tallied—he realizes here what he has in him,
The past, the future, majesty, love—if they are vacant of you, you are vacant of them.

Only the kernel of every object nourishes;
Where is he who tears off the husks for you and me?
Where is he that undoes stratagems and envelopes for you and me?

Here is adhesiveness, it is not previously fashion’d, it is apropos;
Do you know what it is as you pass to be loved by strangers?
Do you know the talk of those turning eye-balls?

7
Here is the efflux of the soul,
The efflux of the soul comes from within through embower’d gates, ever provoking questions,
These yearnings why are they? these thoughts in the darkness why are they?
Why are there men and women that while they are nigh me the sunlight expands my blood?
Why when they leave me do my pennants of joy sink flat and lank?
Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me?
(I think they hang there winter and summer on those trees and always drop fruit as I pass;)
What is it I interchange so suddenly with strangers?
What with some driver as I ride on the seat by his side?
What with some fisherman drawing his seine by the shore as I walk by and pause?
What gives me to be free to a woman’s and man’s good-will? what gives them to be free to mine?

8
The efflux of the soul is happiness, here is happiness,
I think it pervades the open air, waiting at all times,
Now it flows unto us, we are rightly charged.

Here rises the fluid and attaching character,
The fluid and attaching character is the freshness and sweetness of man and woman,
(The herbs of the morning sprout no fresher and sweeter every day out of the roots of themselves, than it sprouts fresh and sweet continually out of itself.)

Toward the fluid and attaching character exudes the sweat of the love of young and old,
From it falls distill’d the charm that mocks beauty and attainments,
Toward it heaves the shuddering longing ache of contact.

9
Allons! whoever you are come travel with me!
Traveling with me you find what never tires.

The earth never tires,
The earth is rude, silent, incomprehensible at first, Nature is rude and incomprehensible at first,
Be not discouraged, keep on, there are divine things well envelop’d,
I swear to you there are divine things more beautiful than words can tell.

Allons! we must not stop here,
However sweet these laid-up stores, however convenient this dwelling we cannot remain here,
However shelter’d this port and however calm these waters we must not anchor here,
However welcome the hospitality that surrounds us we are permitted to receive it but a little while.

10
Allons! the inducements shall be greater,
We will sail pathless and wild seas,
We will go where winds blow, waves dash, and the Yankee clipper speeds by under full sail.

Allons! with power, liberty, the earth, the elements,
Health, defiance, gayety, self-esteem, curiosity;
Allons! from all formules!
From your formules, O bat-eyed and materialistic priests.

The stale cadaver blocks up the passage—the burial waits no longer.

Allons! yet take warning!
He traveling with me needs the best blood, thews, endurance,
None may come to the trial till he or she bring courage and health,
Come not here if you have already spent the best of yourself,
Only those may come who come in sweet and determin’d bodies,
No diseas’d person, no rum-drinker or venereal taint is permitted here.

(I and mine do not convince by arguments, similes, rhymes,
We convince by our presence.)

11
Listen! I will be honest with you,
I do not offer the old smooth prizes, but offer rough new prizes,
These are the days that must happen to you:
You shall not heap up what is call’d riches,
You shall scatter with lavish hand all that you earn or achieve,
You but arrive at the city to which you were destin’d, you hardly settle yourself to satisfaction before you are call’d by an irresistible call to depart,
You shall be treated to the ironical smiles and mockings of those who remain behind you,
What beckonings of love you receive you shall only answer with passionate kisses of parting,
You shall not allow the hold of those who spread their reach’d hands toward you.

12
Allons! after the great Companions, and to belong to them!
They too are on the road—they are the swift and majestic men—they are the greatest women,
Enjoyers of calms of seas and storms of seas,
Sailors of many a ship, walkers of many a mile of land,
Habituès of many distant countries, habituès of far-distant dwellings,
Trusters of men and women, observers of cities, solitary toilers,
Pausers and contemplators of tufts, blossoms, shells of the shore,
Dancers at wedding-dances, kissers of brides, tender helpers of children, bearers of children,
Soldiers of revolts, standers by gaping graves, lowerers-down of coffins,
Journeyers over consecutive seasons, over the years, the curious years each emerging from that which preceded it,
Journeyers as with companions, namely their own diverse phases,
Forth-steppers from the latent unrealized baby-days,
Journeyers gayly with their own youth, journeyers with their bearded and well-grain’d manhood,
Journeyers with their womanhood, ample, unsurpass’d, content,
Journeyers with their own sublime old age of manhood or womanhood,
Old age, calm, expanded, broad with the haughty breadth of the universe,
Old age, flowing free with the delicious near-by freedom of death.

13
Allons! to that which is endless as it was beginningless,
To undergo much, tramps of days, rests of nights,
To merge all in the travel they tend to, and the days and nights they tend to,
Again to merge them in the start of superior journeys,
To see nothing anywhere but what you may reach it and pass it,
To conceive no time, however distant, but what you may reach it and pass it,
To look up or down no road but it stretches and waits for you, however long but it stretches and waits for you,
To see no being, not God’s or any, but you also go thither,
To see no possession but you may possess it, enjoying all without labor or purchase, abstracting the feast yet not abstracting one particle of it,
To take the best of the farmer’s farm and the rich man’s elegant villa, and the chaste blessings of the well-married couple, and the fruits of orchards and flowers of gardens,
To take to your use out of the compact cities as you pass through,
To carry buildings and streets with you afterward wherever you go,
To gather the minds of men out of their brains as you encounter them, to gather the love out of their hearts,
To take your lovers on the road with you, for all that you leave them behind you,
To know the universe itself as a road, as many roads, as roads for traveling souls.

All parts away for the progress of souls,
All religion, all solid things, arts, governments—all that was or is apparent upon this globe or any globe, falls into niches and corners before the procession of souls along the grand roads of the universe.

Of the progress of the souls of men and women along the grand roads of the universe, all other progress is the needed emblem and sustenance.

Forever alive, forever forward,
Stately, solemn, sad, withdrawn, baffled, mad, turbulent, feeble, dissatisfied,
Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men, rejected by men,
They go! they go! I know that they go, but I know not where they go,
But I know that they go toward the best—toward something great.

Whoever you are, come forth! or man or woman come forth!
You must not stay sleeping and dallying there in the house, though you built it, or though it has been built for you.

Out of the dark confinement! out from behind the screen!
It is useless to protest, I know all and expose it.

Behold through you as bad as the rest,
Through the laughter, dancing, dining, supping, of people,
Inside of dresses and ornaments, inside of those wash’d and trimm’d faces,
Behold a secret silent loathing and despair.

No husband, no wife, no friend, trusted to hear the confession,
Another self, a duplicate of every one, skulking and hiding it goes,
Formless and wordless through the streets of the cities, polite and bland in the parlors,
In the cars of railroads, in steamboats, in the public assembly,
Home to the houses of men and women, at the table, in the bedroom, everywhere,
Smartly attired, countenance smiling, form upright, death under the breast-bones, hell under the skull-bones,
Under the broadcloth and gloves, under the ribbons and artificial flowers,
Keeping fair with the customs, speaking not a syllable of itself,
Speaking of any thing else but never of itself.

14
Allons! through struggles and wars!
The goal that was named cannot be countermanded.

Have the past struggles succeeded?
What has succeeded? yourself? your nation? Nature?
Now understand me well—it is provided in the essence of things that from any fruition of success, no matter what, shall come forth something to make a greater struggle necessary.

My call is the call of battle, I nourish active rebellion,
He going with me must go well arm’d,
He going with me goes often with spare diet, poverty, angry enemies, desertions.

15
Allons! the road is before us!
It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have tried it well—be not detain’d!

Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen’d!
Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain unearn’d!
Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher!
Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the court, and the judge expound the law.

Camerado, I give you my hand!
I give you my love more precious than money,
I give you myself before preaching or law;
Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me?
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

Source: Complete Poetry and Selected Prose by Walt Whitman, (c. 1959 by Miller, James E., Jr., pub. by Houghton Mifflin Company). No poet captures the essence of what is genuinely American quite as comprehensively as Walt Whitman. Born 1819 in Huntington, Long Island, Whitman worked alternately as a journalist, government clerk and as a volunteer nurse during the American Civil War. He traveled widely throughout the United States giving expression to his zeal for democracy, nature, love and friendship. Though admired by such contemporaries as Ralph Waldo Emerson, Dante Gabriel Rossetti and Algernon Charles Swinburne, it was not until after his death in 1892 that he received wide acclaim in the United States. You can read more about Walt Whitman and sample more of his poetry at the Poetry Foundation website.

PALM/PASSION SUNDAY

Matthew 21:1-11

Isaiah 50:4-9a

Psalm 31:9-16

Philippians 2:5-11

Matthew 26:14—27:66

“Hosanna to the Son of David!
    Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!” Matthew 21:9.

^“Pilate said to them, ‘Then what should I do with Jesus who is called the Messiah?’ All of them said, ‘Let him be crucified!’Then he asked, ‘Why, what evil has he done?’ But they shouted all the more, ‘Let him be crucified!’” Matthew 27:22-23.

In all the gospels, the “crowd” or “the people” constitute a unique character. The crowds flock from all over Palestine and beyond to hear Jesus’ teachings and to be healed of their ailments, though their understanding of his preaching and mission is limited. The religious leaders in Jerusalem fear the crowd. They know the crowd holds Jesus in high esteem and that the reign of God Jesus proclaims challenges the imperial power of Rome. They are also painfully aware that the position of privilege and power they hold depends on their placating Rome. Thus, the religious elite find themselves in an untenable situation. Arrest Jesus and risk a riot that would certainly bring down a military response from Rome; or ignore Jesus’ messianic mission which is clearly on a collision course with Rome. Either way, a conflict with Rome appears inevitable. The only solution: undermine the crowd’s attraction to Jesus. 

Crowds are notoriously capricious. Their memories are short and their loyalties fleeting. Today’s hero is tomorrow’s villain. Crowds can be carried away by lofty rhetoric. They are easily seduced by charlatans who promise easy solutions to complex problems. Crowds are vulnerable to extremists who put the face of minorities, foreigners and other disfavored groups on all their fears and convince them they are being persecuted, victimized and dispossessed. A crowd has a mind and a spirit distinct from and bigger than any of its members. Its malignant will overwhelms one’s instincts of decency, compassion and civility. People will commit and applaud unspeakable acts of violence and brutality when part of a mob that they would never think of doing or condoning individually. Skilled rhetorical manipulators know how to awaken our deepest fears, prejudices and hatreds. They know how to exploit these dark angels of our nature to inspire paranoia, knowing that when we are afraid, uncertain and confused we can easily be driven to destructive and violent action. We can be made to forget who we are, the relationships that bind us together as a community and the values we hold dear. A mob has no memory, no vision and no thought process. It does not move deliberately. It is driven by the energy of its blind malice. Other than the crucifixion of Jesus, there is no better example of that phenomenon than the Republican insurrection of January 6, 2021.

The gospels do not tell us exactly how the religious leaders in Jerusalem “persuaded the crowds to ask for Barabbas and to have Jesus killed.” But we have contemporary examples of “influencers,” with large followings. The late Charlie Kirk comes to mind. Joe Rogan’s “manosphere” is another example as is Charlamagne the god. Taylor Swift exercises a powerful influence over her millions of fans as have other superstars over the decades. Influencers can affect the way we dress, the slang we use, the cars we drive (or wish we could drive), the music to which we listen, our politics, morality and spending habits. Of course, there is nothing wrong with having influence, nor is there anything sinister about being influenced. I do not know where I would be today without the teachers, pastors, authors, poets and artists who have influenced me over the years.

Still, I believe it is critical to recognize and acknowledge that we are, in fact, being influenced. It is also important that we ask ourselves frequently, “by what or by whom am I being influenced?” This inquiry is increasingly important in this age of social media which, in addition to making vast amounts of important news and information easily available, also constitutes a swamp of misinformation, unfounded conspiracy theories and hateful ideologies. The rise of AI makes it possible to distort and even fabricate pictures, videos and works of art such that it is becoming ever more difficult to determine what is real. We are open to mass manipulation and misdirection like never before. History has taught us that such manipulative power can drive a crowd of otherwise law abiding people to heinous acts of violence such as lynchings, rioting and genocide. The gospels teach us that mass manipulation led to the crucifixion of God’s Son.

During these last days of our Lenten pilgrimage I believe we would do well to consider the forces influencing us and to ask ourselves who or what is shaping our hearts and minds. What or who is demanding our attention? How are we being entertained? From where are we getting our news and information and what effect is all of this having on the way we think about our world, about our neighbors and about our God?

Here is a poem by Carl Sanburg speaking to the fickleness and capriciousness of the mob as well as its vulnerability to manipulation. The poem also expresses the hope that the mob might finally gain a soul and become a people governed by the lessons history has to teach.

I Am the People, the Mob

I am the people—the mob—the crowd—the mass.

Do you know that all the great work of the world is done through me?

I am the workingman, the inventor, the maker of the world’s food and clothes.

I am the audience that witnesses history. The Napoleons come from me and the Lincolns. They die. And then I send forth more Napoleons and Lincolns.

I am the seed ground. I am a prairie that will stand for much plowing. Terrible storms pass over me. I forget. The best of me is sucked out and wasted. I forget. Everything but Death comes to me and makes me work and give up what I have. And I forget.

Sometimes I growl, shake myself and spatter a few red drops for history to remember. Then—I forget.

When I, the People, learn to remember, when I, the People, use the lessons of yesterday and no longer forget who robbed me last year, who played me for a fool—then there will be no speaker in all the world say the name: “The People,” with any fleck of a sneer in his voice or any far-off smile of derision.

The mob—the crowd—the mass—will arrive then.

Source: Creative Commons. Carl Sandburg (1878 – July 22, 1967) was a Swedish-American poet, biographer, journalist and editor. He won three Pulitzer Prizes, two for his poetry and one for a biography of Abraham Lincoln. Sandburg is widely regarded as a major figure in contemporary literature. At the age of thirteen Sandburg left school and began driving a milk wagon. Throughout his early years, he worked as a porter at the Union Hotel barbershop in Galesburg, Illinois, a bricklayer, a farm laborer in Kansas, a hotel servant in Denver, Colorado and a coal-heaver in Omaha. Sandburg began his writing career as a journalist for the Chicago Daily News. Later he wrote poetry, history, biographies, novels, children’s literature and film reviews. He also collected and edited books of ballads and folklore. He spent most of his life in Illinois, Wisconsin, and Michigan before moving to North Carolina. You can find out more about Carl Sandburg and sample more of his poetry at the Poetry Foundation Website.