This is one of the better-known passages in all of scripture.  Typically called “The Great Commission”, this text is notable for being Jesus’ final instructions to his disciples before he departs physically from them.  It may seem strange for Matthew to end his gospel with instruction rather than action, but highlighting Jesus’ role as teacher is a typically Matthean emphasis.  Furthermore, Matthew ends his gospel in such a way as to shift the spotlight from the work Jesus has done in his earthly ministry to the work that Jesus will now do through the lives of his followers.  The page has been turned.  The torch has been passed.  We are to be the body of Christ now.  Matthew suggests here that the story of Jesus’ ministry continues in and through us.

That’s not a new message to most Christians today.  Most of us have heard the Great Commission and learned that it is a clear call to us – for action, for ministry, for service.  Consider the words of a familiar hymn based on this text:

Lord, you give the great commission:
“Heal the sick and preach the word.”
Lest the Church neglect its mission
and the Gospel go unheard,
help us witness to your purpose
with renewed integrity;
with the Spirit’s gifts empower us
for the work of ministry.

Lord, you call us to your service:
“In my name baptize and teach.”
That the world may trust your promise,
life abundant meant for each,
give us all new fervor,
draw us closer in community;
with the Spirit’s gifts empower us
for the work of ministry.

Lord, you make the common holy:
“This my body, this my blood.”
Let your priests, for earth’s true glory,
daily lift life heavenward,
asking that world around us
share your children’s liberty;
with the Spirit’s gifts empower us
for the work of ministry.

Lord, you show us love’s true measure:
“Father, what they do, forgive.”
Yet we hoard as private treasure
all that you so freely give.
May your care and mercy lead us
to a just society;
with the Spirit’s gifts empower us
for the work of ministry.

Lord, you bless with words assuring:
“I am with you to the end.”
Faith and hope and love restoring,
may we serve as you intend,
and, amid the cares that claim us,
hold in mind eternity;
with the Spirit’s gifts empower us
for the work of ministry.

Again, the hymn does as the Great Commission does: shifts the focus from Jesus’ work to our work, yet without severing the connection between the two.  In truth, they are very much one in the same.  However, there is something missing from the hymn, just as there is something missing from our traditional interpretation of the Great Commission.  It’s a very subtle piece of this text that we are all apt to overlook (perhaps due to our familiarity with it), and it’s found in verse 17:

When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted.

Isn’t that a fascinating way to end a gospel?  Isn’t even more fascinating considering the message of the text?  Here is Jesus, sending his disciples out into the world to carry on his work and his ministry.  Here is Jesus the risen Lord, nail holes and all, going out on a high note.  But some doubted. Isn’t that just like the disciples?  Isn’t it just like us?

Far too often among Christians there’s a discernible pressure to know things for certain, to hold and express your convictions fervently and confidently, to follow Jesus without question.  The reality of following Christ is that it’s rarely that simple.  There will be plenty of times when we question, and hesitate, and doubt ourselves when faced with the work that we are called to do.  You see those three words in verse 17?  But some doubted. That’s us.  There we are in the gospel.  It’s like holding a mirror up to our faces.

But you know, that’s okay.  It’s extremely comforting to know that after some doubted, Jesus gives those same hesitant disciples authority, as well as a promise that he will always be with them.  After doubt comes the Great Commission.  Jesus doesn’t seem to mind that some doubted, because he knows something that we typically forget: the kingdom that Jesus ushered in does not depend on our abilities, but on God’s power.  This text is an echo of last Sunday’s Pentecost event, in which the disciples are given the gift of the Holy Spirit’s power – which is precisely the point.  It’s not their power at work here.  It’s God’s, and God’s alone.

First Look is a weekly commentary on the upcoming gospel lectionary text, written by Rev. Lee A. Koontz.  It is usually published on Mondays.

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.”  After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.  Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.”  When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit.  If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”  But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came.  So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

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.” Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.”  Thomas answered him, “My Lord and my God!”  Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”  Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book.  But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.

“Peace be with you.”

What comes into your mind when you hear that phrase?  Are the words a greeting?  Or a farewell?

“Peace be with you.”  Is it a wish for the chaos and the turmoil in your life to become settled?  Or is it a declaration of certainty and assurance for the future?  In other words, is it a prayer for things to get better?  Or a promise that they will?

“Peace be with you.”

These were the words that Jesus used to greet his disciples in the upper room that night.  It may have even been the same room in which they had all gathered for the last supper.  There they were, together, just like they had been many times before.  However, it would be a mistake to think that this was a typical gathering.  Jesus, their master, was no more.  The man whom they had followed, whom they had learned from, whom they had joined without question when he called to them, was dead.  Not only that – he had been crucified.  He had been called a criminal and been convicted and put to death by the state.  It was no hero’s death that fell upon him.  It was not the death of royalty.  It was the death of an outlaw.

These disciples, these followers of Jesus, now gathered together after the arrest, after the trial, after the gruesome crucifixion, in fear.  We are told that the doors where they were are shut, and you can bet that they were locked and bolted as well.  If any of you have seen any horror movies lately, you may be able to identify with the frightened disciples somewhat.  I can still remember the first time I saw the movie “Jaws”.  I was young and on vacation with my family – at the beach!  I don’t think I went near the water the whole week.  I felt much more secure behind the closed doors of our hotel room.  Scary movies can stick with you for a long time, too.  Lasting fear from a traumatic incident can alter your behavior, give you nightmares.  We can only imagine the level of fear in the minds of the disciples that night.  This was no movie they had just seen.  It was no mechanical shark that caused them to lock the doors.  It was death…  horrific, terrible, and unforgettable.  The disciples now lived in chaos in the shadow of the cross.  The dream that they had followed for so long without question was now dead.  They sought security behind locked doors, refuge from the tide of violence and unrest that had claimed the life of their master.

It would be interesting to know what the disciples were talking about that evening.  Were they discussing what to do next?  Were they making plans to get the heck out of town as soon as possible?  Were they just huddled together in fearful silence?  We don’t know – but whatever the mood was in that room at that time, it was all certainly about to change.  Very suddenly, Jesus comes and stands among them, speaking those familiar words, “Peace be with you.”

Now if the disciples were in shock after Jesus death, if they were huddled together in fear in that upper room, then they were certainly shocked, amazed, and spellbound at his appearance to them.  Was it some kind of a trick?  Had the stress and fear of the moment caused them to hallucinate?  Did they dare believe that their master was no longer dead?  Did they dare believe that he was alive, and he was standing right in front of them?  Would you?

Our response would likely be similar to that of Thomas when the disciples told him what had happened.  “Unless I see in his hands the print of the nails, and place my finger in the mark of the nails, and place my hand in his side, I will not believe.”  Maybe Thomas was expressing something felt by all of the disciples.  Maybe they didn’t want to believe that Jesus was alive.  After all, these disciples had failed him, all of them!  They had abandoned him when he was arrested, denied him when he was crucified, and run away from him when he died.  The dream had died, they thought, and now the only future that awaited them was a life of despair and disillusionment, behind locked doors, in the shadow of that terrible cross.

But it is Jesus who breaks in upon their fear and their despair.  In that moment, Jesus reclaims them.  Despite the fact that they had abandoned him, he trusts them.  Despite the fact that they denied him, he calls them.  Despite the fact that they had run away from him, he draws them near, and breathes upon them.  That breath is a sign of life.  The language of the text recalls the creation narrative in which God breathes upon the waters and gives them life.  Jesus’ appearance to the disciples is a sign of new life. Those who nailed him to the cross and tried to snuff out that breath could not do it.  Christ has risen.  His breath continues.  The dream is alive.

Jesus is calling his disciples out of the shadow of the cross and into the light of a new life.  “Just as my Father sent me,” he says, “so I now send you.”  Not only is the dream still alive, but it is alive within you, his followers.  I think we have to forgive the disciples for not seeming a little more active and overjoyed at Jesus’ words, but the move from death to resurrection is not an easy one to make.  The shadow of the cross is not easy to leave behind.

Maybe that’s the message that Thomas speaks to us.  After being told by the disciples that Jesus is alive and the dream has been passed to them, he basically says, “That’s a good message, but I’m going to need some proof.  I need to see it with my own eyes.”  And so Thomas ends up being a lot like us.  In those dark times, those times of despair, disillusionment, and fear in our lives it’s like we can’t see the light of hope.  Maybe we spend too much time focusing on our failures and all the ways that we’ve let Christ down, the ways that we’ve failed to keep the dream of Christ’s love alive.  Maybe we spend more time behind locked doors in fear of death than we spend out in the world, embracing the life that Christ has breathed into us.  That move from death to resurrection is not an easy move to make for us, either.

It does seem that we all play the role of Thomas.  It is often times easier to let fear and uncertainty direct our lives than it is to embrace Jesus’ presence with us.  It is easier to dwell in the shadow of the cross, the shadow of death, than it is to believe the dream and be a part of it.  In fear and doubt, we can close the doors and lock them; we can find nothing that compels us to take the chance of walking out our doors and doing the work that Christ calls us to do.  Doubt is much easier than faith.

Carl Rogers, the famous American psychologist, was 22 years old when he entered Union Theological Seminary in New York in 1924. While there, he participated in a seminar organized to explore religious doubts. Rogers later said of the group, “The majority of members…in thinking their way through questions they had raised, thought themselves right out of religious work. I was one.”

Doubt is easier than faith.  A few years ago one of my friends remarked to me, “I am getting to the point that I won’t be able to say the Apostles’ Creed.  I do alright until I get to the ‘rose again from the dead’ part.  When we get to that part of the creed, it’s easier for me just to stay silent.”  Moving from death to resurrection is incredibly difficult.  Sometimes it is very hard to believe without a doubt that Jesus lives on, even today, even after he was put to death on the cross.

But the truth is that when we find ourselves doubting, when we find ourselves afraid of death, when we find ourselves unable to move from Jesus’ death on the cross to his real presence in our lives even today, Jesus treats us just as he treated his disciples, locked away in that room of fear and uncertainty.  “Just as my Father sent me,” he says, “I now send you.”

As it turns out, Jesus does not care that we have abandoned him in the past.  Jesus cares not that we deny him in the moments of truth.  Jesus chooses us for what we are…  children of God – fears, doubts, and all.  Jesus looks to us with confidence, and sends us just as the Father sent him.  “Do not spend your time behind the locked doors of fear and doubt,” he says.  “Go into the world bearing the good news.  There you will find the signs of hope, the signs of life that you seek.”  The story of Jesus has not ended in crucifixion and death, nor does our own story ended in doubt and fear.  The dream is alive in us.  Christ is alive in us.

And so we are called to rise above our past, to rise above the times we have failed Christ as fear and doubt assailed us.  Christ has looked to us all with confidence, because he lives.  Our times of doubt and fear are no match for Christ working within us and through us.  In those times, when we feel like just locking the doors and hiding under the table until this entire world passes away, Jesus suddenly appears in our midst and offers words which are both a prayer for our present doubts and fears, and a promise for our future faith…  “Peace be with you.”

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First Look is a weekly commentary on the upcoming lectionary gospel text written by Rev. Lee Koontz.  It is usually published on Mondays.

Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness has been portrayed in a variety of formats, among them a few videos which aren’t hard to find online.

First, the well-known scene of Jesus’ temptation from Martin Scorcese’s The Last Temptation of Christ:

Scorcese’s version is interesting, to say the least.  Perhaps a bit closer to the text from Matthew’s gospel is the simply-named Jesus, a television miniseries from 1999:

And finally, we would be remiss if we didn’t see at least one lego version:

As you can see, portrayals of Jesus’ temptation vary considerably.  The staggering differences from one version to the next beg the question:  What is the meaning of this story?  Evidently for movie directors a fair amount of artistic license is conjoined to the text, but for Christians seeking to glean some element applicable to everyday life the embellishments do more harm than good.  So, in looking at this text we must set aside the Scorceses, the miniseries, and the legos, and forget we knew them in the first place.  This text speaks for itself.

What the text says is something about who Jesus is.  It must be understood that at this point in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus’ public ministry has not yet begun.  He has been introduced, yes, in his baptism, where he is identified as the Son of God.  As of the fourth chapter of Matthew, however, we still don’t really know what this means.  We are very much waiting to see who and what Jesus actually is.  Jews living in the first century largely expected the Messiah to be some sort of great military figure, capable of breaking the bonds of Roman rule and delivering the people to a new life.  Readers living in those days would have wondered whether Jesus would be that sort of figure.

Matthew at first makes a statement that Jesus is “led by the Spirit”.  The purpose of this statement is clear: what Jesus does in the wilderness is not simply aimless wandering.  Rather, his path is directed by the Spirit.  His wilderness time has a divine purpose, and even an encounter with the personification of evil itself should not cause us to wonder whether Jesus has somehow strayed beyond his chosen path.  Everything that happens during those 40 days (and afterwards) is to be seen as a divine ordinance of sorts, a series of events through which God’s purpose is unfolding.

Jesus is essentially tempted by the devil three times, the first of which occurring at the height of Jesus’ hunger.  He is tempted to reprise the role of prophet here, providing bread by some manifestation of God’s power.  The devil’s request to turn stones into bread recalls incidents during the Israelites’ wilderness wandering in which God through Moses provided sustenance for a hungry people.  Though much of Jesus’ ministry is prophetic in nature, it is clear that he is not simply re-treading the paths of the prophets of old.  He has come to do a new thing.  He denies the devil’s request simply by saying, “One does not live by bread alone,” a suggestion that Jesus’ ultimate purpose is not mere physical sustenance, but a spiritual one.  John picks up on this theme as well in his gospel, especially in John 6:35-58, in which Jesus describes himself as “the bread of life.”

Secondly, Jesus is tempted to fulfill something found in scripture itself.   He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’ What could possibly be so detrimental about fulfilling the words of scripture?  It is worth considering here that none of the things that Jesus is tempted to do is inherently evil.  In fact, they seem at face value to be good things!  Perhaps this raises questions about the things by which we ourselves are tempted, the notion of course being that the temptations against which we fail are ultimately the ones that seem at face value to be good or beneficial.  It’s easier, for instance, to resist the temptation to steal than it is to resist the temptation to horde money and possessions for the supposed good of providing for the desires of one’s family.  From Jesus’ point of view, it may very well be a good thing to perform some miracle by which people will come to believe.  However, the point here is that rather than perform some miraculous public relations stunt by which God’s power would be on display for all to see and believe, Jesus will come to exhibit God’s power in an entirely different way: through weakness, suffering, and death.  Psalm 91:11-12 suggests that the truly righteous will be protected by God’s power, it’s true, but Jesus did not come to simply put on displays of public righteousness as would a showman priest.  No, Jesus came in order to exhibit a different kind of power.

The final temptation comes in the form of an offer to receive power over all the nations of the earth.  It might be said that Jesus is being tempted to fulfill the traditional role of a king here, assuming authority over all the people of the world.  This offer of rulership carries with it connotations of possession, however, as the devil tells Jesus that “it will all be yours”.  Jesus, however, will make it clear in the events of his ministry that his authority is not one of possession or rulership, per se.  For this Son of God, authority rests in his self-giving service and sacrifice rather than in the assumption of political power.

If we connect the three temptations (requests), it’s clear that the Devil is attempting to coax Jesus into taking on the three seemingly well-known roles of prophet, priest, and king.  While we know it to be true that Jesus is all of those things, the encounter with the devil in the wilderness clearly shows that Jesus isn’t simply a reintroduction of old expectations.  He is the beginning of a new thing in which all of the old assumptions about how God relates to humanity are shattered.  This, of course, brings us to a striking parallel.

The entire notion of a face-to-face encounter should remind us of something we read much, much earlier in the Bible.  Genesis 3:1-7 reads:

Now the serpent was more crafty than any other wild animal that the Lord God had made.  He said to the woman, ‘Did God say, “You shall not eat from any tree in the garden”?’  The woman said to the serpent, ‘We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden; but God said, “You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the middle of the garden, nor shall you touch it, or you shall die.” ’  But the serpent said to the woman, ‘You will not die; for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.’  So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate; and she also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate.  Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made loincloths for themselves.

Here we have at the outset of the story of God’s relationship with humanity a story of temptation in which tempted humanity fails.  It is a moment in which the relationship between the Creator and the creature is damaged and altered by the sinfulness of the human being.  ‘The Fall’ is a tragic story of fractured relationship, and the potential for the sinful human condition to stand between God and humanity.  After the Fall, God and humankind are no longer in right relationship with each other.

Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness is to be seen as a ‘reset’ button of sorts.  In Jesus Christ, the human condition will be rescued from its fallen condition, and right relationship with the Creator will be restored.  Jesus, the ‘second Adam’, repeats a face-to-face encounter with the devil, but this time humanity resists.  That which has been fractured now has the promise of restoration.  Matthew means us to understand that this Jesus represents not only the fullness of reconciled humanity, but the fullness God’s relationship with a fallen world as well.  Who is Jesus?  He is the spirit-filled and spirit-led new prophet, new king, new priest, and the one through whom the world will be reconciled to God.  It is in the context of this identification that the events of Jesus’ public ministry are to be understood.

Another common element of both the Genesis creation narrative and the temptation of Jesus in the wilderness is, of course, the figure of “the Devil”, which cannot be ignored.  Together, these passages are the two best-known stories of the Devil in all of scripture.  When we approach texts featuring “the Devil” or “Satan”, we must be aware that Christians attach various meanings and theologies to those simple terms.  I have often found Shirley Guthrie’s discussion on the matter in his extremely useful book, Christian Doctrine, to be immensely helpful.  To paraphrase, Guthrie prefers an interpretation of scripture which mythologizes any mention of a “devil”.  In this interpretation the Devil is a mere personification of evil, a metaphor which works to impress upon us the reality and gravity of the evil at work in the world.  I must admit that this is an interpretation that I myself favor, but like Guthrie, I accept the fact that there are Christians for whom the literal existence of a personal devil is a reality.  For Christians who choose to believe the literal existence of the Devil, Guthrie lays out some important guidelines:

1) Christians do not “believe in” the Devil.  We confess our faith in Christ, and our faith is not in but against the evil of the world.

2) Our awareness of the existence of the Devil must not become a more central reality to us than our awareness of God’s existence and Christ’s presence with us.  In other words, if we are paying more attention to what the Devil is doing than what God is doing, our priorities are skewed.

3) We must admit that evil is not something that we find only “out there”, but also within our own actions and behaviors, and indeed within the church itself.  Localizing the existence of evil within a personified other does not allow us to view ourselves or the church as if they are devoid of evil.

To read more of Guthrie’s treatment of the subject of evil, see chapter 9 of Christian Doctrine.

Finally, part of the dialogue between Jesus and the Devil in Matthew’s gospel raises significant questions for Christians today.  In the second exchange, the Devil tempts Jesus by quoting scripture.  What does this say about the relationship between the Word of God and the believer?  Undoubtedly, it should shock us into the realization that simply being able to quote scripture does not guarantee a correct position, nor does it guarantee that we are quoting it faithfully.  The question here for us is not whether we are able to quote scripture to support a particular position or doctrine, but rather whether or not we approach scripture as Jesus entered the wilderness: led by the Spirit. During the season of Lent, when many of us promise to spend more time reading scripture, it’s something worth considering.  As we are called to deepen our commitment to discipleship and study, do we study the Word of God that we might use it, or that it might use us?

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First Look is a commentary on the upcoming gospel lectionary texts, and is usually published on Mondays.  Be sure to come back next week!

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, or what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, or what you will wear.  Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not of more value than they? And can any of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life? And why do you worry about clothing?  Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? Therefore do not worry, saying, “What will we eat?” or “What will we drink?” or “What will we wear?” For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today’s trouble is enough for today.

The first time I read this text today I was comforted.  Do not worry.  God values you and loves you.  Do not fear for tomorrow.  God’s gifts will come.  Those are rather assuring words, aren’t they?

The second time I read this text today, I was cut right to the heart.

I was cut because I am a selfish person.  I want ease of life.  I want stability.  I want comfort.  It’s not just that I want food, and clothing, and shelter – it’s that I want good food, and nice clothing, and spacious shelter.  Were I to count up the time, money, and effort I spend on getting those things, I would be ashamed.  ”No one can serve two masters,” Jesus says.  I’ve spent the better part of my life doing the best I can to prove him wrong.

I was cut because I live in and contribute to an anxiety-based culture.  Countless commercials, advertisements, and political slogans seek to stir us by appealing to our anxieties.  Why do so many advertisers pitch their product as the answer to our insecurities?  Because it works! We are fundamentally insecure and anxious people, and there is money to be made off of our fears.

I was cut because I do fear, and I do worry, but I fear and worry about the wrong things.  I’m afraid of losing the homogenized comforts that I’ve built around myself.  I’m anxious about doing something different that might displace me from my comfort zone.  In other words, I’m anxious about the very things that Jesus tells us not to be anxious about.  This text cautions us about being anxious over the wrong things, but it does not tell us to be completely free of fear or anxiety.  There are plenty of mood-altering drugs that could help me be completely worry-free.  The gospel of Jesus Christ is not one of them.  Karl Marx famously said that religion is the opiate of the masses.  Christianity certainly could serve as a feel-good prescription for all of my insecurities, and I could prove Marx right by using the gospel to suit my own comforts.  However, if I honestly and faithfully encounter God’s cage-rattling word to us in Holy Scripture I’ll see that the primary function of God’s relationship with his people is not that they should be worry-free.  On the contrary, God himself is overwhelmingly the most frequent object of fear in the Bible.  In his Church Dogmatics, Karl Barth wrote that in the New Testament, the object of fear is primarily Jesus himself. (Church Dogmatics, II/2, p. 598).

Now it seems I’ve gotten myself into a fine interpretive predicament.  I’ve been vocally critical of authority figures who use fear in order to control others.  I bristle at any moment in the church’s history in which those who led the church exercised their power through fear.  I do not fear God in the sense that I perceive God to be some divine bogeyman who hovers over my head like the sword of Damocles, waiting to shower me with divine wrath should I take a misguided step.  I don’t believe that’s the God we meet in Holy Scripture.  However, it’s clear that if we are to be servants of one master, the master should be God-in-Jesus-Christ.  Christians live in the reality that we serve a master whom we did not choose – but who instead chose us!  And being the chosen-ones of this master, our lives are to be lived first and foremost with a sense of gratitude, not fear.

That being said a Christian’s ultimate concern (or worry, if you prefer), should be serving the master.  Jesus has called us to feed the hungry, shelter the homeless, receive the poor, release the prisoner, visit the sick, and welcome the stranger.  Jesus has called us to focus our time, money, and energy not on maintaining our own comforts, but on participating in his ministry and advancing his kingdom.  In other words, we are to tune out all the other voices in our culture vying for control over our lives, and instead give our attention to the voice of the only master who really matters.  If we are to be worried, if we are to be concerned with anything, it should be following the call of Jesus.  It also must be said that this sense of worry and concern inevitably leads us back toward the grace of God.  I Karl Barth is right, and the predominant object of fear in the New Testament is Jesus himself, then it follows that the object of fear is also its antidote.  Christ never simply allows his disciples to founder in fear.  To the contrary, he addresses fear with words of peace, and then redirects his disciples out into the world where they can meet the world’s fears with the master’s love.

Yes, I am cut by Jesus’ words.  We all are.  But in a strange way we are also healed.  The act of pruning is frequently used as a metaphor for how God works in our lives, and so often God’s unsettling word to us serves to cut away that which grows toward the darkness instead of toward the light.  Then by the grace of God may we strive for God’s kingdom and God’s righteousness.  And countless other things will be given to us as well.

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First Look is a weekly commentary on the upcoming lectionary gospel text written by Rev. Lee A. Koontz.  It is usually published on Mondays.

A pastor friend of mine once told me a story of his early days in ministry.  He was the pastor of a small rural church, and many in that community just expected each other to attend church on Sunday.  After worship one Sunday, the pastor was driving home when he passed by the home of a church member, who was out in his yard pruning his bushes.  The pastor stopped, rolled down the window, and remarked, “We sure would have loved to have you in church today.”  The man replied, “I would have loved to be there, but you know, when the ox is in the ditch…”  He then went back to his pruning.

The man was referring to Luke 14:5, which echoes concerns about the Sabbath that we see in this reading from one chapter before.  The notion is that some emergencies require work to be done on the Sabbath.  Now, whether pruning one’s bushes qualifies as an emergency is up for debate, but it’s clear that Jesus lived in a world in which a great deal of attention was given to the custom of observing the Sabbath.  Most people living in first century Palestine would have been familiar with the fourth commandment: “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.”  As we can see from the aforementioned texts from Luke’s gospel, there was some disagreement over what this “remembering” and “keeping” was to be.

The small community in which my pastor friend began his ministry had a certain Pharasaic quality to its observance of the Sabbath.  The Sabbath meant going to church, and if anyone in the community chose not to attend, then high-horsed churchgoers would be free to wag their fingers in the faces at them while giving a speech about what they were expected to do on the Lord’s Day.  The Pharisees butted heads with Jesus precisely over this expectation.  In their radical adherence to the “jot and tittle” of the law, they became the moral and ceremonial watchdogs of the community.  Jesus’ responses to them show us that Sabbath-keeping isn’t really about wagging one’s finger at the non-churchgoers, but something else entirely.

Consider the unmistakable language of bondage and freedom that pervades this text.  The woman comes to Jesus “bent over and unable to stand”.  The image is of someone weighed down and crippled by some burden.  Jesus heals her by proclaiming, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.”  She then stands up straight, as if a weight pressing down upon her has been removed.  When the leader of the synagogue challenges Jesus, he replies, “You hypocrites!  Does not each of you on the sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the sabbath day?”

The language of bondage and freedom is not accidental.  Rather than observing the Sabbath as some moral obligation that shackles the people, Jesus uses it as an occasion to set the people free!  It’s been said that Jesus came not to polish our chains, but to set us free.  That’s the message of this text, and it has clear implications on our observance of the sabbath day.

When I look out over the pews on Sunday morning, I undoubtedly see the faces of at least some who feel obligated to be there.  Some have come to church simply because it is their sabbath duty, and they will also be the ones chastising others for not attending.  However, we make a mistake when we assume that everyone approaches the Sabbath with that mindset.  The truth is that everyone who c0mes to church – even those who feel compelled to be their against their will! – come as people in need.  They come carrying heavy burdens, weighed down by the baggage of life.  They come as people who have stooped under life’s pressure for so long that they have forgotten what it feels like to stand up, to lift their heads high, to walk straight as unencumbered people.  In other words, we all forget what it feels like to be free.  We have to be reminded.

We are not unlike the crippled woman who came to Jesus, stooped and burdened.  Jesus healed her by setting her free.  She stood straight.  Now of course, she’ll depart from him and once again be assailed by the burdens of life.  She slowly come to take on more pressure, more pain, more weight, until she may even begin to bend.  But in that moment she may well remember the one who set her free, and perhaps she’ll stand a little straighter, or feel the pressures of life lessen a bit.  She’ll be reminded that she now walks as a free woman.

That’s what Sabbath is for us.  Though we may not be able to escape from the pressures that weigh us down, we may nevertheless be reminded each time we gather that we walk as free people.  Perhaps our burdens will lessen, and in that moment we’ll remember the one who set us free.

And we’ll rejoice at all the wonderful things he is doing.

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First Look is a weekly commentary on the upcoming gospel lectionary text, written by Rev. Lee A. Koontz.  It is usually published on Mondays.

“Whoever listens to you listens to me, and whoever rejects you rejects me, and whoever rejects me rejects the one who sent me.”

The seventy returned with joy, saying, “Lord, in your name even the demons submit to us!”  He said to them, “I watched Satan fall from heaven like a flash of lightning.  See, I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy; and nothing will hurt you.  Nevertheless, do not rejoice at this, that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.”

Jesus’ sending of the seventy (which appears only in Luke) is full of symbolic language.  The number 70, for instance, was likely a connected with Genesis 10, in which 70 nations are named.  It is implied here that Jesus sends the seventy to cover the entire known world at the time, including hostile nations as well as hated ones.  For this reason Jesus tells the seventy that they are to be “sheep in the midst of wolves.”

Jesus also instructs them to eat whatever is placed before them, which obviously wouldn’t be a concern had the seventy been sent out to other predominantly Jewish regions who ate the same things that they did!  Implied here is that the pairs Jesus sends out will find themselves at table with pagans and gentiles, and in those instances they are to enjoy the food (and fellowship) of their foreign hosts.

Thirdly, this text is infused with eschatological imagery.  Jesus speaks in terms of harvest time, the moment just before the fields are gleaned so that the grain can be separated from the chaff.  It is understood that the seventy are to be laborers in this harvest, proclaiming words of peace initially, but then delivering their primary message: “The Kingdom of God has come near to you!”  And that, I think, is really the point of this passage.

If Jesus’ sending of the seventy is a function of God’s Kingdom realized in Jesus Christ himself, then God’s Kingdom is exhibited in things like hospitality, outreach to strangers, compassionate healing, the proclamation of peace, and the ultimate sharing of good news.  All to often today, we maintain inward-focused programs in our churches.  We are far more concerned with what happens inside our walls than with what’s going on outside them.  It’s the church members who get the attention rather than the surrounding community.  Here in Luke 10, we see a different way of doing things.  We also see a blueprint of sorts for the “missional” church.

If you aren’t familiar with the concept of the missional church, here’s a short video that attempts to explain it:

Secondly, if you have some time, here’s Michael Frost’s excellent presentation on what it means to be missional:

If we take this text from Luke 10 seriously, then we’ll see the importance of sending.  Being a church isn’t simply a matter of “if you build it, they will come”.  There are plenty of churches that have been built, but no one is coming!  We must learn to rethink church, and see it as a place from which people are sent into the surrounding community and the world with a mission: proclaiming peace, sharing hospitality, and telling the good news of the nearness of God’s Kingdom.  I often wonder how many mainline churches see the community that surrounds them as a mission field.

Perhaps we’re missing how near the Kingdom really is.

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First Look is a weekly commentary on the upcoming lectionary gospel text written by Rev. Lee A. Koontz.  It is usually published on Mondays.

As they were going along the road, someone said to him, “I will follow you wherever you go.”  And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”  To another he said, “Follow me.” But he said, “Lord, first let me go and bury my father.”  But Jesus said to him, “Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God.”  Another said, “I will follow you, Lord; but let me first say farewell to those at my home.”  Jesus said to him, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”

Note: My sermon on verses 57-62 of this passage can be found here.

Jews and Samaritans did not get along.  In fact, they openly despised each other, and a Jew could be considered unclean just by passing into Samaritan territory.  Considering the pervasive hatred between the two groups, it is astonishing that Jesus decided to enter a Samaritan village in the first place.  It was not a convenient stop on the road to Jerusalem, yet Jesus goes out of his way to contact the hated Samaritans living there.  That he is denied entry “because his face is set toward Jerusalem” is significant.  It speaks to the Samaritans’ own hatred for the center of Jewish religious practice, as well as their suspicion of Jesus, a Jew, coming so far out of his way to see them.

I’ve always found something a bit humorous about the disciples asking Jesus if they should command fire to come down from heaven and consume the Samaritans.  Who, exactly, do they think they are?  Do they seriously believe that they could do such a thing?  Their question is undoubtedly born not just out of their hatred for the Samaritans, but their misguided understanding about what it means to be a disciple of Jesus.  They obviously seem to understand that following Jesus gives them some sort of divine power, which they could use to smite whomever they wish.  They do not yet understand the power or the scope of Jesus’ ministry.  But the time will come.  They will eventually see that Jesus’ power lies in sacrifice and self-giving love.  They will eventually see that Jesus’ ministry is for all kinds of people – even Samaritans.

The theme of the disciples’ misunderstanding continues into the second half of this passage.  Seemingly eager to follow Jesus wherever he goes, someone tells Jesus that he will follow him wherever he goes.  Jesus simply issues a warning that following him won’t exactly be a picnic.  He has no permanent home, and travels from place to place (even Samaritan villages!) to proclaim the good news.  Jesus speaks about two would-be followers who seem just as eager to follow, yet they want to follow on their terms, not his.  There is a qualifying “but” in each of their statements.  I want to follow you… but I need to go bury my father.  I want to follow you…  but I need to go say goodbye first.

It seems a bit harsh that Jesus would instruct someone not to go bury their father, or say goodbye to their own family, but he makes a demanding point by doing so.  The fact is that for those who would follow Jesus, nothing must get in the way.  Following Jesus required the ultimate sacrifice and the ultimate commitment.  Anyone who lets death or even family get in the way of their discipleship compromises the work of God’s kingdom.

Of course, there is more disciple in us than there is Christ, so we will undoubtedly find ourselves playing the role of misunderstanding follower.  There will be times when we look to those who will not receive us or Jesus with hatred and contempt.  Still, Jesus teaches us another way.  There will be times when we seem eager to follow Jesus, but let the demands of life get in the way of our service and commitment.  Still, Jesus teaches us another way.

We can only hope and pray that as the journey of our discipleship continues from day to day, we will gradually exhibit more tolerance than hatred, and more commitment than selfishness.

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First Look is a weekly commentary on the upcoming lectionary gospel text written by Rev. Lee A. Koontz.  It is usually published on Mondays.

Here we have two great crowds meeting at the town gate, each symbolizing opposing forces.  Coming out of the town we see a great crowd of mourners, following a widow woman who has just lost her son.  They carry him through the gate on a funeral bier, and according to custom would have held him high into the air, crying loudly and vocalizing their grief in a chaotic mass of wailing and tears.  It was the loud, unmistakable sound of human suffering and grief.  It was death.

Coming into the town we see Jesus, accompanied by his disciples and a great crowd of people who had just heard Jesus heal a centurion’s slave at Capernaum (Luke 7:1-10).  It is unlikely that these witnesses with who Jesus walked carried the clamor and chaos of a funeral procession.  No, they had witnessed the joy of healing and restoration.  They had seen the remarkable faith of the centurion and his love for his slave first hand.  This crowd was a celebratory one.  It was the steady, persistent march of renewal.  It was life.

At the gate the two collided.  Jesus, moved deeply by the widow’s sorrow, tells her not to cry.  He touches the bier and tells the dead man to rise.  The dead man sits up and speaks!  he is restored!  Death has given way to life!  A new cry sounds from the gathered witnesses: “A great prophet has risen among us! God has looked favorably on his people!”  Those who once proclaimed the finality and sorrow of death now proclaim the arrival of Jesus and his grace, compassion, and love.  They say he “has risen”, unknowingly pointing ahead to his own victory of life over death.  Risen, indeed.

This isn’t a terribly comfortable picture of God, here.  All too often we think of God as some far-off, dispassionate other, who is perfect but maintains that perfection through lack of emotion.  We assume that God’s knowledge of all events, past, present, and future, render God unaffected by the events occurring in the world.  We remove from God what we believe makes us weak and changeable: emotion.

Yet, in this text this God in Jesus Christ reminds us of God’s involvement in our joys and sorrows.  Rather than remain far-off, unmoved by our suffering, God joins us in it.  Jesus was “moved to the depths of his being”, and we can infer that God is no less moved by our suffering than Jesus was.  Ours is a God who meets us in our suffering, speaks a word of comfort in the midst of the struggle, and finally shows us the once-and-for-all victory of life over death.

The Apostle Paul said it this way:

We do not live to ourselves, and we do not die to ourselves.  If we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord; so then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s.  For to this end Christ died and lived again, so that he might be Lord of both the dead and the living.

And that’s the thing.  As we see these two opposing groups meet at Nain’s town gate, we can be confident that Jesus is Lord of both!

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First Look is a weekly commentary on the upcoming lectionary gospel text written by Rev. Lee A. Koontz.  It is usually published on Mondays.

These three verses, which appear in the Lectionary for Trinity Sunday, form a short passage in which we see the three “persons” of the Trinity: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.  While this text clearly is not a theological treatise on the Doctrine of the Trinity, it nevertheless presents us with a glimpse of that mystery by which we understand how God relates to us.

Some Christians have a difficult time understanding the Doctrine of the Trinity, which in pure mathematical terms makes no sense.  How can one equal three and vice versa?  Ever since the Council of Chalcedon declared that God the Father, Jesus the Son, and the Holy Spirit are united in one substance and in one single person (εἰς ἓν πρόσωπον καὶ μίαν ὑπόστασιν, eis hen prosopon kai mian hupostasin) we’ve had a mathematical problem on our hands.  As a result, the inner workings of our trinitarian God remain hard to pin down.

But you know what?  Maybe that’s the point.

Speaking of God

I’ve taught many classes on Christian doctrine, all of which eventually contained some discussion of the Trinity.  It can be a difficult thing to express in simple terms, and even the best metaphors don’t quite clear things up.  For instance, I’ve often used the metaphor of familial relationship to help people gain a better understanding of the Trinity.  I am presently understood as a father to my two boys, as well as a son to my parents and a husband to my wife.  I am father, son, and husband.  My relating to my family in these three fundamentally different ways, however, doesn’t mean that I’ve undergone some division of self.  I’m still me.  I still exist as one person in three definite roles.  This metaphor can help Christians better understand how one can equal three, but it still falls short of explaining our trinitiarian God.  The “three” of which we speak when we discuss the trinity means three persons, not three roles, and it’s inadequate to speak of God in a way that suggests that God simply changes hats when relating to us as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

Another way I’ve tried to shed some light on the notion of a trinitarian God is through the image of an alloy.  We might take three different metals and solidify them together into one concrete structure while the properties of each metal are retained.  Still, this image doesn’t exactly bear the full weight of God’s relationship to us.  How are we ever going to figure this thing out?

It helps, I think, to recognize that trinitarian language is necessarily poetic.  We must approach the Doctrine of the Trinity with the understanding that the thing that it describes – God – cannot be adequately described in linguistic terms.  The infinite cannot be contained within the finite.  As a result, even our best language about who God is leaves something unsaid, precisely because we lack the words to say it.  There remains a mystery of God which we are unable to comprehend or describe in the language we speak.  The best we can do is render some kind of poetic description, and this is precisely what the doctrine of the Trinity is.  It’s not meant to be a full exposition of God’s self, but a symbolic description of how God relates to us in God the Father, Jesus the Son, and the Holy Spirit.  It’s not perfect, but it’s the best we can do.

In a Mirror Dimly?

The Apostle Paul famously wrote, “For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.” It’s a beautiful way of expressing the limits of our human understanding, particularly when speaking of God.  There’s a point at which we must simply resign ourselves to the fact that we aren’t meant to understand all things.  In the gospel text above from John 16 Jesus tells his disciples, “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.” How difficult that is for us to hear!  There is still truth to be revealed, but we are not ready to hear it!  We must simply be content to live in the tension between the “already” and the “not yet”.  The reality of God in Jesus Christ has already come to us, but the fullness of God’s kingdom is not yet to be.  So too, our understanding of God is left knocking at the door of mystery, but for now the door remains closed to us.  The day will come when all will be revealed to us through God’s Spirit, but in the words of Juba from Gladiator, “Not yet…  not yet.”

Rather than perceive the ever-present reality of God’s mystery as a loss, why not perceive it as something to celebrate?  Albert Einstein wrote:

The most beautiful and deepest experience a man can have is the sense of the mysterious. It is the underlying principle of religion as well as all serious endeavour in art and science. He who never had this experience seems to me, if not dead, then at least blind. To sense that behind anything that can be experienced there is a something that our mind cannot grasp and whose beauty and sublimity reaches us only indirectly and as a feeble reflection, this is religiousness. In this sense I am religious. To me it suffices to wonder at these secrets and to attempt humbly to grasp with my mind a mere image of the lofty structure of all that there is.  (The World As I See It)

We generally do a poor job of resting in the mysterious.  There’s something about the unknown that makes us uncomfortable.  Yet, in the mysterious there lies something beautiful, something beyond our reach, something that knows us and knows all things far better than we ever could.  It is in that mystery that we live, and move, and have our being.

We call it “Father”.  We call it “Son”.  And we call it “Holy Spirit”.  We may not fully understand that of which we speak.

But that’s why we worship.

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First Look is a weekly commentary on the upcoming gospel lectionary texts written by Rev. Lee A. Koontz.  It is usually published on Mondays.

Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father.  I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son.  If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.

If you love me, you will keep my commandments.  And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever.  This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.

I will not leave you orphaned; I am coming to you.  In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me; because I live, you also will live.  On that day you will know that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you.  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.”  Judas (not Iscariot) said to him, “Lord, how is it that you will reveal yourself to us, and not to the world?”  Jesus answered him, “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.  Whoever does not love me does not keep my words; and the word that you hear is not mine, but is from the Father who sent me.

I have said these things to you while I am still with you.  But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you.  Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.

Note: My sermon on this text can be found here.

This text is frequently read at funerals, and for good reason.  Here Jesus is preparing his disciples for his eventual departure, seeking to give them both direction and comfort for the days ahead.  Whether they like it or not, the day will come when Jesus will no longer be with them physically.   Yet, his ministry will continue.  Rather than instruct his disciples to carry on his work the best they can until they can find something else do, Jesus explains to them in no uncertain terms that his ministry is a permanent one.  This is the first of many “passing the torch” moments in John’s gospel, and it’s an appropriate reading not only for funerals but for the day of Pentecost as well.

Reading this passage on the day of Pentecost gives us a rare opportunity: here we have all three “persons” of the trinity in one text, with emphasis on the Holy Spirit.  The Holy Spirit has been called the “forgotten member of the trinity”, and most Christians have a better understanding of God or Jesus.  What are our notions of the Holy Spirit?  What is it?  What does it do?  These questions are addressed by this text from John 14.

The first point that must be made – and I cannot emphasize this enough – is that there is a very strong communal element to Jesus’ vision of how the Holy Spirit will be with and be in his disciples after he departs.  We make a serious mistake when we read interpret the comfort, guidance, and blessing of the Holy Spirit as comfort for me, guidance for me, and blessing for me. Jesus simply was not speaking to his disciples on an individual level.  While it’s true that the Holy Spirit does indeed bless us with things like personal comfort during difficult times, it’s clear that the action and presence of the Holy Spirit is best understood in the context of community.  The ministry to which Jesus calls his disciples, who will be aided by the Holy Spirit, is not an individualistic one.  It is communal, both in its form and its focus.

So who is this mysterious other person of the trinity who will come to be in and with the disciples and their ministry?  The word Jesus uses for it here is parakletos, which can be translated into one of several English terms: Comforter, Advocate, Helper, Counselor.  The word really means all of these things, but we unfortunately don’t have one English word that encompasses the fullness of the Greek one.  What does it mean to say that the Holy Spirit will be a Comforter to us?  Or an Helper?  Or an Advocate?

Comforter

“Do not let your hearts be troubled,” Jesus said, “and neither let them be afraid.” I can only imagine the look on the disciples’ faces as Jesus said this to them.  They were probably scared to death.  Jesus, their teacher and Lord, was telling them that he would eventually leave them.  This is the Jesus who they had seen perform amazing signs and wonders.  This is the Jesus who claimed to be one with God.  “Do you not believe that I am in the Father, and the Father is in me?” he asked them.  This is the Jesus who called them away from their endless toil on the shores and the docks to a life of profound meaning and vital ministry.  This Jesus was everything to them.  And he was leaving.
Yet, they will not be alone.  They will have a Comforter, the very Spirit of the living God to bless them with strength when they are weak and peace when their world is anything but peaceful.  They will encounter things like illness, oppression, persecution, and death, but even in the face of those things they will live in the hope that some things are stronger than the evils of the world.  Even stronger than illness, oppression, persecution, and death is the presence of God and the love of Christ.  They’ll remember that in their moments of fear and grief, and it will be the Holy Spirit, the Comforter, who will remind them.  They’ll remember, and so will we.

Helper

The term “helper” sounds like an overly simplistic descriptor of God, but the reality is that a “helper” is one who helps someone accomplish something that he cannot do for himself.  Does that sound like something we need?  Of course!  If left to our own designs and our own judgment, we would be mired in an inescapable mess (and perhaps we already are).  Scripture teaches us that we ourselves cannot overcome the limitations of our sinfulness.  We are imperfect, flawed, and unfaithful human beings.  The good news of the gospel, however, tells us that God doesn’t just sit back and let us try to climb up to him.  No, God comes down to us in Jesus Christ.  God does for us what we cannot do for ourselves.  God helps us.

If the Holy Spirit is a “helper” to us, then the saving grace of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ is not something bound to the years of Jesus’ earthly life.  Instead, it is something that continues in the lives of his followers.  Even now, God is doing for us what we cannot do for ourselves, and helping us to accomplish far more in ministry than we are able to accomplish by ourselves.  Whatever successes or accomplishments we see in ministry, we owe to the help of God’s Holy Spirit.

Advocate

An “advocate” is one who speaks on behalf of the accused in a courtroom setting.  In fact, the term “counselor” invokes an image of a defendant receiving legal counsel as well.  The courtroom setting is one that appears throughout scripture in connection with God’s judgment.  By using this term, Jesus is suggesting that his followers will find themselves playing the role of the accused, the defendant, more often than not.  In an earthly sense, they will be the targets of persecution because of their faith.  In a cosmic sense, the day will come when they and all people will be judged by God.  In both scenarios, the image of an Advocate or Counselor reminds us that the followers of Jesus will not be alone.  They will have someone on their side, taking up their case and defending them.  John Calvin famously envisioned a grand courtroom as the setting for the final judgment, and described that moment in which we accused sinners enter the courtroom with our heads down, knowing beyond all doubt that we have fallen short and will be sentenced harshly.  However, when we take our place at the center of the courtroom and look up to the judge, we see something remarkable.  The judge is…  the Redeemer!  It is Jesus Christ himself who judges us, and the sentence we receive depends not on our faithfulness but on his.  Now to this image add the notion of a Holy Advocate, defending us and pleading our case.  It is as if the deck has been stacked enormously in our favor.

A Final Word: Breath

It’s difficult to read this passage from John 14 without thinking ahead to John 20, which reads:

After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side.  Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.  Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’  When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’

This is the moment at which the disciples receive the Holy Spirit/Comforter/Helper/Advocate/Counselor, and it comes in the form of breath.  This is the same breath that hovered over the waters, the formless void, at the moment of creation.  This is the same breath that blew through the windows and doors on the day of Pentecost, fanning the tongues of flame poised above the disciples’ heads.  This is the same breath through which God speaks new things into being.  It’s the breath of which we are reminded when we ourselves breathe together as we sing and pray.

When we sing hymns, we sing the same words together.  We pause to take breaths at the same moments.  We breathe out words praising God, thanking God, singing the good news.

We use our breaths to pray together, forming words and phrases that ask God for forgiveness, for strength, for comfort.  We speak the words of the Lords’ Prayer, and our breaths are transformed into a remembrance of Jesus saying that prayer and teaching it to his disciples.  When we say it together we are speaking powerful words that are much more than words, because Jesus has prayed that prayer… with his own breath.  And then we also pray in silence, letting only our breaths speak what is inside our hearts.

We use our breaths to read scripture.  Through our breath the Word of God becomes audible.  It can be read in a loud and booming voice in front of a congregation, or it can be whispered at the bed of a child.  God speaks to us and to other people through our breaths.

We breathe together in countless other ways – laughing together as we share our joys, and sobbing together when we share our pains.  Whatever we do, we do it together.  No one will be left crying alone, or laughing alone.  No one will be left singing alone, or praying alone.  No, God intends us to live in community, sharing our lives together, sharing our very breaths!

This is Pentecost!  As we live and breathe together, God is breathing new life into us and into our broken world.

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First Look is a weekly commentary on the upcoming gospel lectionary text written by Rev. Lee A. Koontz.  It is usually published on Mondays.