Readings

FIRST LESSON

The first lesson is from Spiritual Direction: Beyond the Beginnings by Janet K. Ruffing

There was a nun in a Minnesota convent, Sister Grace, in her early twenties. Sister Grace was contemplating making her final vows in her community. She was to decide within the next few weeks, and a ceremony was planned for her and for the other sisters in her class.

As the time drew near, Sister Grace felt a bit unsure of making the decision. She felt torn and wondered how the women ahead of her in the formation process could be sure they were ready to make this commitment. She wondered if she was the only one in her class who wavered or felt unsure.

None of the other sisters she saw every day seemed to indicate they would do anything but accept their final vows, but she couldn’t be sure and was afraid to ask for fear she would look weak and indecisive. She felt it would not be appropriate to be indecisive about such an important decision.

One Saturday morning, she finally decided to discuss her feelings with her friend, Muriel, who had made her final vows the year before. Muriel said to her: “Well, Grace, have you tried asking God about this?” Grace replied, “Well, I’ve prayed and prayed, but I hadn’t thought about actually asking God.” So she left Muriel, and actually went to her room to pray.

Grace began to pray, and asked if God wanted her to make her final vows. Suddenly, she experienced her bedroom suddenly filling with light. But certainly, it was more than the sun streaming through the windows could account for. Grace felt deeply loved by God in that moment. She felt the palpable presence of God in every fiber of her being. However, this surprisingly immediate response to her prayer and the intensity of God’s love and presence frightened her and Grace fled the room.

Sister Muriel noticed her pacing one of the corridors and commented, “I thought you said you were going to pray.” Grace responded, “I did, and God is in my room right now!” Sister Muriel asked Grace the next logical question, which was “Then what in God’s name are you doing out here?”

As if hit by a thunderbolt, Grace rushed back to her room. But when she went in, she noticed that the incredible light that had been there previously was no more. The overwhelming palpable sense of God’s presence and love was no longer there.

SECOND LESSON

The second lesson is from the Gospel of John, Chapter 20, verses 19 through 31

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 Jesus. And Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As God has sent me, so I send you.” When Jesus 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 Child of God, and that through believing you may have life in Jesus’ name.

This Week's Sermon

Date: April 11, 2010

Title: Even When Common Sense Tells You Not To

Message Delivered By: Rev. Dr. Joe McMurray

You know, once you’ve been ministering for awhile in the same community, your name gets out a bit and people begin to know who you are. I have been called on a few times in the past several months to come to the aid of people in need or in trouble, and particularly people who are seriously ill. It doesn’t really matter if they’re members of the congregation or not. The point is that they need to talk or to pray or just to have someone sit with them, listen to them, or be with them. And so that’s what you do. It’s a very humbling experience to be called upon under such very personal circumstances.

There was one such Methodist minister called to the bedside of a man who was seriously ill. In spite of the lateness of the hour, the minister, remembering the depth and importance of his calling, arrived at the house to do what he could for the man. In a barely audible voice, and between hoarse hacking coughs, the man confessed his transgressions, asked for God's forgiveness, and as the minister bent close to catch his words, they prayed together.

The man fell into a deep sleep, and his spouse quietly motioned for the minister to go with her out of the room. “I think he’ll rest quietly now,” she said. Thank you so much for coming at such a later hour. I hope we didn’t disturb you too greatly.” As she handed the minister his coat as he was leaving, he said to her, "I was happy to come and comfort your husband the best I could. Let me know if there’s anything else you need. By the way, I don’t believe you're members of my church. "

"Oh, no," the woman said. “We belong to the Episcopal Church at the edge of town."

“Oh, I see,” said the minister. Confused, he asked, “But if you belong to the Episcopal church, why did you ask me to come to be with your husband?”

“Oh that,” said the woman, chuckling. “We didn’t want to disturb our pastor by calling him in the middle of the night. Besides, we couldn't take a chance and have him exposed to scarlet fever!"

So as a reminder—if you ever need me in the middle of the night, just feel free to call Randy Becker at the Unitarian church up the street!
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Will you pray with me? God, as we bask in the glory of the Easter season, let us recall the lessons of Lent: let us remember what it is you want from us; let us focus on improving our lives and the lives of those around us; let us continue to be your representatives in the communities in which we serve; and let us be strong in our resolve to continue our truthful and intimate walk with you. And may my words and all of our thoughts be filled with honor and praise to you. Amen.

From our two readings this morning, we witnessed two very contrasting stories: the first account from John’s gospel concerns a devoted follower of Jesus, the disciple, Thomas, who became so paralyzed by fear and was so lacking in trust that he refused to believe a miracle had taken place in the very spot he was standing, despite the many witnesses who had shared the same deep loss and crippling fear.

The second is a story about Sr. Grace, who longed for God’s guidance, yearned for God’s attention, asked for God’s blessing on a particular life-changing decision she was about to make. And unlike so many others who would have begged for an experience such as hers, when she got what she asked for—God’s undivided attention—she couldn’t cope with it and fled the room, leaving behind the palpable presence of God.

Sometimes we don’t exactly choose what we believe, because things can happen so quickly we don’t have time to think. Sometimes we’re struck by what’s happening in the moment, and that is what most influences our choices and the decisions we ultimately make.

Other times, our feelings about certain things determine what we believe. Perhaps we’ve been hurt or abandoned. Perhaps we feel as though we’ve been punished or we feel ignored. We might feel that we’ve been left out, or that we missed an important event that was witnessed by others in our circle of friends.

This might cause us to feel left behind, disagreeable, or non-committal, so much so that we express doubts if for no other reason than to rain on the parade of those who were privileged to share in the experience we missed.

At other times, we believe in something because of our first-hand experience. We might believe because we’ve been inspired by the work of someone else. We might even believe or have faith because of what we’ve heard about the tremendous deeds someone has performed—someone whose work we did not experience, but work that was clearly experienced by others.

Sr. Grace was in desperate need of God’s guidance. Her frustration was evident in having to make this important decision alone. Yet until Sr. Muriel stated the obvious, “Have you directly asked God for guidance?”, Sr. Grace hadn’t considered it—though she admitted she had “prayed.”

Sr. Grace had not called upon her faith—her prayer, apparently, felt empty. Prayer, whether it delivers what we want or not, is also meant to soothe us, to help us to understand what may come, to guide us into accepting what comes even when it is not what we may have asked for. Sr. Grace depended on common sense to tell her what to do. She could not comprehend how others could have been so certain. She completely left out the element of mystery, the surprise of miracles, the power of the Divine.

Contrast this with Thomas, a privileged insider within the burgeoning movement that Jesus had led. Thomas was an intimate of Jesus, the teacher they called “Rabbi,” the one they believed could be the Messiah—the deliverer. But Thomas could not believe Jesus had appeared because he himself had not seen.

Bear in mind, this event took place on the day of Resurrection; the same day of the experience at the tomb when Mary Magdalene discovered Jesus’ body was gone; the same day Mary had witnessed Jesus’ presence at the tomb and conversed with him. Despite all these circumstances, Thomas’ common sense told him not to believe.

This story also takes place later that same day; the same day that the disciples had also gone to the tomb and found it empty; the same day Mary Magdalene ran to them, exclaiming, “I have seen the Lord!”

We believe different things based on what we hear, whom we trust, what we experience first-hand, and what we are willing to believe based upon a deep knowing—a knowing that we sometimes call faith.
Yet despite all the experiences the disciples had witnessed during Jesus’ life, we should not be surprised that they were afraid. For all they knew, Jesus was gone forever, and what he told them would come to pass might not be fulfilled. Their common sense told them this, sewing seeds of doubt in their minds. For all they knew, they would inherit a movement, a mass of people who had expectations that they feared they could not meet. People would look to the disciples for answers: what would happen now? Had the movement ended? Was it all for nothing? Did Jesus’ death signify defeat for the promise of justice?

The disciples were faced with many unknowns; they even perceived a threat against their own safety. And through all of this, the sting of death was still strong among them.

For those of us who have accompanied loved ones about to make their transition, we have known the sting of death and how frightening it can be. Death brings an immediate sense of grief and wonder, whether it’s sudden or expected. When a person close to us dies in our presence, the experience is indescribable—we feel conflicted—the space within is both full and empty: full for the miracle we’ve just witnessed—empty for the undeniable sense of loss, and the loneliness that comes from letting go.

In times of death, the shadows are filled with awe and disbelief. We doubt our very senses. Our lives change instantly, and things never return to the way they were before. The very air we breathe is different. Words have different meaning. We are changed forever.

When the first night approaches, you sleep little, if at all, embedded in a surreal emotional space. In your mind, you constantly revisit the final moments of contact with your loved one. Everything seems detached and unreal, as if you yourself were having an out-of-body experience.

And the day after death consumes you, denial and grief begin to set in. It seems like the death you experienced the day before was just a nightmare from which you are still unable to awaken. Then you remember all too well how real it was.

You instantly begin to reprioritize things. Things that were important yesterday are no longer of any importance at all. Even your own identity changes. You are unable to recognize yourself.
Not only did your loved one leave you, but they took with them things that were once so alive and now seem gone: the special things you shared with one another; the words or expressions particular to you that no one else used; certain mannerisms and habits, both irritating and endearing, are now only memories.

And all at once, you begin to measure everything in relation to the experience of loss—you will remember and calendar in your mind when one day has passed, then two days, then three, then one week, and two weeks, and then a month, two, and then a year.

The disciples were in just such disbelief when Jesus appeared to them. And then such euphoria they must have felt after he’d appeared. They were no doubt relieved, they felt reassured, not only because of the experience itself but because it was a shared experience. They’d witnessed together something dramatic and important which made it all the more real.

The disciples bore witness together, that is, except Thomas, who was not present. All but Thomas shared the experience. All but Thomas, who could not bring himself to believe because he did not see what the others saw. And at that point in his own journey, he desperately needed to see in order to believe. His common sense told him not to believe.

Jesus’ appearance was not all that Thomas refused to believe—he refused to believe his fellow disciples. What was it in Thomas’ experience that made it impossible for him to have faith in and trust those with whom he was most intimate? Trust, faith, and love—these virtues go together—they’re inseparable; one cannot exist without the others.

I wonder about these virtues in our own lives—and in our own community. Trust, faith and love. There are times when it is clear and evident that these virtues are abundant and being practiced. There are times when it seems that these virtues are absent from our midst.

When we fail to trust one another, unless given good reason based in truth, we are disrespectful. When we refuse to have faith in our intentions and abilities, our attitudes become corrosive, and the result is the damage we do to one another spiritually. And in the absence of trust or faith, we cannot say with honesty that we love one another. Jesus claimed that love was the most important virtue of all.
It’s common for people to say to say that as Christians, we don’t have to like each other, but we have to love each another. As convenient as that would be, I really don’t believe it’s true. It’s an extremely unhealthy way to be in community together. How can there really be love under such conditions? How can one love anyone without liking them first? Loving or liking people is, of course, a very different proposition than loving and liking the things that people do.

None of us is perfect; but we must seek perfection in our faith whether we ultimately achieve it or not. Achieving perfection is an ongoing struggle. Achieving a perfect faith is an ongoing struggle. Sometimes it’s hard work to appreciate each other’s gifts; but hard work is what must be offered. It is a challenge to value someone who offers something different from our expectation or desire. It might seem an impossibility to have respect for someone with whom you constantly disagree. It may seem unfeasible to change oneself from being cantankerous and disagreeable into becoming likable and lovable.

But that is what Jesus calls us to do. This is the struggle. We cannot even begin to accomplish world peace if we cannot accomplish it right here in our own lives and within our own community.

There is much work ahead. Instead of hiding behind the closed doors of insecurity and fear, let us strive to be a trusting, faithful and loving community—not only faithful and loving to God, but to one another, as well. Instead of distrust and suspicion, let us open ourselves to one another. Let us believe in one another, even when common sense tells us not to. And then we will come to love one another, as Jesus commands.

May we continue to follow where God is leading. Amen.