Jesus' resurrection is for bodies: easter 3 year b

The holy gospel according to Luke. (24:36b-48)

[³⁶While they were talking about this,]

Jesus Themself stood among the eleven and their companions and said to them,

     “Peace be with you.”

³⁷The disciples were startled and terrified,

     and thought that they were seeing a ghost.

³⁸Jesus said to them,

     “Why are you frightened,

     and why do doubts arise in your hearts?

          ³⁹Look at my hands and my feet;

               see that it is I myself.

                    Touch me and see;

                         for a ghost does not have flesh and bones 

                              as you see that I have.”

⁴⁰And when Jesus had said this,

     They showed them Their hands and feet.

     ⁴¹While in their joy those gathered were disbelieving and still wondering,

          Jesus said to them,

               “Have you anything here to eat?”

                    ⁴²They gave Jesus a piece of broiled fish,

                         ⁴³and Jesus took it and ate in their presence.

⁴⁴Then Jesus said to them,

     “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you—

          that everything written about me

               in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.”

⁴⁵Then Jesus opened their minds to understand the scriptures,

     ⁴⁶and said to them,

          “Thus it is written,

               that the Messiah is to suffer 

                    and to rise from the dead on the third day,

               ⁴⁷and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed

                    in Their name to all nations,

                         beginning from Jerusalem.

          ⁴⁸You are witnesses of these things.”

The gospel of the Lord.

------

A couple weeks ago, Rev. Beth Wartick, a colleague in this synod, posted on Facebook, “Friends: the resurrection is for bodies.”  The post was a bit unsettling at first, because I think I’ve gotten pretty used to making the resurrection into an exclusively spirit and soul-centered or even an intellectual reality, I like to talk about it, but I’m less sure about its physicality. Our resurrection accounts both last week and this week, however, provide us with ample evidence for her statement.

Last week we encountered Jesus in the gospel of John presenting hands, feet, and side to the slow-to-believe and fear-filled disciples, prompting Thomas’ great declaration of faith, “My Lord and my God!”

Jesus’ presentation of Their actual resurrected body, wounds and all, speaks to the disciples in a way that no number of eye-witness accounts could have, and this week’s resurrection account is no different.

Jesus has just spent the day walking along the road to Emmaus with Cleopas and another disciple, explaining everything that Holy Week—Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and that very Resurrection morning—meant.  Jesus had literally and figuratively walked them through all of scripture, interpreting it just for them.

But it wasn’t until Jesus sat with them and blessed and broke bread—the nourishment for their own bodies—that they recognized the Resurrected One.  And when Jesus shows up with the rest of the disciples in today’s reading, it is once again about the body: “³⁹Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have,” says Jesus.

Jesus knows the same truth as Pastor Beth: “The resurrection is for bodies.”  There is knowledge and wisdom in our bodies and embodied lives that our intellect can only ever grasp at futilely.  Jesus knows that our bodies carry in them the truths of our lived experiences, of our ancestors’ lives, and even the sparks of stardust that are scattered throughout the cosmos.

Each body comes from and is nourished by the dirt of the earth and is also made up of the stardust of that first Big Bang of life.  Each body reflects a piece of the image of God.  Jesus’ resurrection is about bodies because bodies matter to Jesus.  Bodies are part of our whole selves and when we create this false binary that divides souls from bodies, we fracture who we are.  We lose track of the fullness of our humanity and our belovedness by God.  We don’t just do this with words and ideas, we fracture the whole body of Christ, the image of God that we bear together, in physical ways as well.

Before moving to Iowa, I served as a pastor in rural southeastern Minnesota and I spent quite a bit of time with beloved children of God who worked on farms near town—not only those who owned or ran the farms, but especially those who make the oftentimes difficult and life-threatening trip north from Mexico and Central America to get up in the middle of the night to milk the cows, or early in the morning when it’s still below freezing to start harvesting the crops.

Their immigrant bodies, which carry so much of the burden and weight of feeding our country, are part of Jesus’ death and resurrection and Jesus loves them.

The bodies of those who cultivate the earth on farms, in personal or community gardens, and even in potted plants are also part of Jesus’ death and resurrection and Jesus loves them.

Your bodies, our bodies, weary from carrying us through decades of life, from backpacks full of school books, from the energy and demands of new babies and young children, or from the pressure to be or act a certain way are part of Jesus’ death and resurrection and Jesus loves them.

The bodies that struggle with stairs, standing, or even eating are part of Jesus’ death and resurrection and Jesus loves them.

The bodies of victims of violence, whether the violence happens in the confines of their home, at a party late at night, in the stares and fear of others on the street or at the coffee shop, across the world with chemical weapons and bombs in Syria, or anywhere in between are all part of Jesus’ death and resurrection and Jesus loves them.

The bodies of refugees, fleeing violence, seeking hope and compassion, allowed in some countries and not in others are part of Jesus’ death and resurrection and Jesus loves them.

The bodies around the world, in our fullest possible diversity—bodies that don’t look anything like yours and bodies that are so similar it isn’t possible to deny that you are kin—all of these bodies and your very own body are part of Jesus’ death and resurrection and Jesus loves them.

Bodies contain wisdom and understand truths that can be hard for us to grasp.  Jesus presents first a body with wounds—a broken, yet resurrected body—knowing that once the body understands the reality, the structure or skeleton, of the resurrection, then the words can give flesh to those bones.  Jesus’ words are good, but first Jesus’ body must convey the truth.

Jesus’ resurrection is bodily.  Jesus blesses and breaks bread.  Jesus eats broiled fish!  Jesus loves bodies.

And so a blessing from Pastor Beth:

“Friends: the resurrection is for bodies.

The resurrection is for: skinny bodies, fat bodies, in-between bodies.

The resurrection is for: brown bodies, black bodies, olive bodies, white bodies.

The resurrection is for: female bodies, transgender bodies, male bodies, tall bodies, short bodies.

The resurrection is for: undocumented bodies, citizen bodies, visitor bodies, immigrant bodies.

The resurrection is for: wrinkly bodies, smooth bodies, hairy bodies, swimsuit-ready bodies, sweatpants-ready bodies.

The resurrection is for: old bodies, young bodies, able bodies, disabled bodies, tired bodies.

The resurrection is for: any bodies, every body, your body.

Jesus loves your body enough to give it new life. Treat your body and your neighbor's body with the same respect you'd show to anything beloved by God.”

Amen.

Who belongs to God: 20th after pentecost a

I also reference the first reading: Isaiah 45:1-7.

El santo evangelio según San Mateo (22:15-22)

¹⁵Then the Pharisees went

and plotted to entrap Jesus in what he said.

      ¹⁶So they sent their disciples to him,

            along with the Herodians, saying,

                  “Teacher,

                        we know that you are sincere,

                        and teach the way of God

                              in accordance with truth,

                        and show deference to no one;

                              for you do not regard people with partiality.

                        ¹⁷Tell us, then, what you think.

                              Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor,

                                    or not?”

¹⁸But Jesus,

      aware of their malice, said,

            “Why are you putting me to the test,

                  you hypocrites?

            ¹⁹Show me the coin used for the tax.”

And they brought him a denarius.

²⁰Then Jesus said to them,

      “Whose image is this, and whose title?”

²¹They answered,

      “The emperor’s.”

Then Jesus said to them,

      “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s,

            and to God the things that are God’s.”

      ²²When they heard this,

            they were amazed;

            and they left Jesus

            and went away.

El evangelio del Señor.

-----

you

see your face.

you

see a flaw.

how.  if you are the

only one who has

this face.

–     the beauty

construct

(Nayyirah Waheed)

There are images all around us every day.  Images of violence, of pain, of joy, of anger.  Images of jobs and vocations, service, relationships, and estrangement.  Images of power and privilege, of isolation and marginalization.

These diverse images are on our money, too.  An image of a man of power: Washington, Hamilton, Franklin—soon Harriet Tubman, an image of freedom and resistance to oppression.  An eagle – an image for this country, with a head pointing toward the olive branch of peace and away from the arrows of war. 

A pyramid image of endurance, withstanding the test of time, with the Eye of Providence, or is it the eye of God? Claiming God’s presence and blessing, perhaps, though other countries also make that claim.  A new order, this great seal declares.  At the top, the united states of america.  Below that, on the back, the phrase “in god we trust.”  And those are just a few, easily spotted on this one, old bill. 

Images are all around us and even on us.  Images that seem perfect and images so full of what we call flaws: lines of wrinkles from laughter, worry, and surprise trace across our faces; scars from illness or injury; marks we try to cover up or choose to create as art; marks from violence that we hide from others, struggling to seek help or a way out.  All over our bodies, we carry images.

But there is one image more precious and more powerful than the rest.  An image that challenges our assumptions when seen on others whom we might call “interesting” or “different.”  An image that brings comfort when we cannot find the good in our own selves.

Jesus asks, “whose image…whose title?”  and it is “the emperor’s.”  When the image is marked “for the Empire,” then it is for the Empire.  When the image is marked for God, then for God.

But “in the beginning when God went about creating the heavens and the earth andthe earth was a formless void…God created humanity in the divine image.  In the image of God humanity wascreated”—in all our diversity.

Certain images may be marked on money and things, but the everlasting image of the Divine is marked on all of creation and on all of us created beings.  And that makes a difference.  We are made in the image of God.  Together with all of the ways we are unique, we belong to God—the God who calls us by our name and surnames us.

And if we belong to God, it is not just us, but all of humanity.  Every soldier killed fighting for this government, every soldier killed fighting for other governments, even every soldier killed fighting for ISIS bears the image of God and so belongs to God.  Every family that goes hungry on the weekends or in the summer bears the image of God and so belongs to God.  Every billionaire CEO and every family on welfare and everyone just trying to stay in the middle class bears the image of God and so belongs to God. 

Every baby born and every person who dies bears the image of God and so belongs to God.  Every victim of violence—sexual harassment and domestic violence, economic violence, gun violence, terror attacks and mass killings—and every perpetrator of violence bears the image of God and so belongs to God.  Every janitor, firefighter, sex worker, pastor, administrative assistant, nurse, teacher, elected representative, telemarketer, and community organizer bears the image of God and so belongs to God. 

Every person with documentation to live and work in a country, every person without documentation, and every person awaiting deportation bears the image of God and so belongs to God.  Every lawyer, every government employee, every person in prison bears the image of God and so belongs to God.   

Every woman, every man, every transgender person, every person for whom the gender binary doesn’t fit; every bisexual, heterosexual, asexual, lesbian, gay, and queer person bears the image of God and so belongs to God.  Every one who is single, divorced, widowed, struggling with their marriage, and happily married bears the image of God and so belongs to God.

And if all of humanity bears the image of God and so belongs to God, then all of Creation bears the image of God and so belongs to God.  Every tree, river, bush, and lake bears the image of God and so belongs to God.  Every bluff, mountain, valley, desert, sea, and glacier bears the image of God and so belongs to God.  Every creeping thing upon the earth, every swimming thing every flying thing bears the image of God and so belongs to God.  Every planet, moon, star, galaxy, black hole, asteroid, and supernova bears the image of God and so belongs to God.

And if all of creation bears the image of God and so belongs to God, then even “the things that are the emperor’s” are really “the things that are God’s.”  The things we think we can separate out from our faith are a part of our faith.  They belong to God just as we belong to God. 

So in all that we do and use we find divine belonging.  When we spend our money, we are using God’s resources and God’s creation.  When we are spiteful or cruel, we are doing so to God.  When we are honest about pain, oppression, and conflict, we are being honest with God and all that belongs to God.  When we care for another and for ourselves, we care for God.

Nayyirah Waheed’s poem, which I began with holds the truth about this image of God:

you

see your face.

you

see a flaw.

how.  if you are the

only one who has

this face.

–     the beauty

construct

(Nayyirah Waheed)

In all you see as a flaw, God recognizes the beauty that is your truest self.  And the same holds true for the flaws we see in others.

As a reminder, please turn to a neighbor, ask their name (just to make sure—if everybody does it the person whose mind goes blank will have an excuse), ask if you can bless them, and if they give permission, mark their forehead or their hands with the sign of the cross and say, “You are a beloved child of God.  You belong to God. And that will never ever change.”

…

Amen.

Love fulfills the law: 14th after pentecost a

Romans 13:8-14

⁸Owe no one anything,

      except to love one another;

            for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law.

⁹The commandments,

      “You shall not commit adultery;

      You shall not murder;

      You shall not steal;

      You shall not covet”;

      and any other commandment,

            are summed up in this word,

                  “Love your neighbor as yourself.”

                        ¹⁰Love does no wrong to a neighbor;

                              therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law.

¹¹Besides this, you know what time it is,

      how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep.

            For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers;

            ¹²the night is far gone,

                  the day is near.

            Let us then lay aside the works of darkness

                  and put on the armor of light;

                  ¹³let us live honorably as in the day,

                        not in reveling and drunkenness,

                        not in debauchery and licentiousness,

                        not in quarreling and jealousy.

                              ¹⁴Instead, put on the Lord Jesus Christ,

                                    and make no provision for the flesh,

                                          to gratify its desires.

The other reading referenced is Matthew 18:15-20.

-----

Much of this week could be characterized as a failure to love.  Echoing Jesus’ words, Paul writes in Romans, “the one who loves another has fulfilled the law.”  If love is the fulfillment of the law, then a law ought to be judged on its enactment of love.

Committing adultery—cheating on someone else—is not loving because it neither respects nor honors that one.  Killing—the violent taking of life of another—is not love because it neither respects nor honors that one.  Stealing is not love because it neither respects nor honors that one.  Coveting—jealously wanting what is not ours—is not love because it neither respects nor honors that one above the things they possess.

Love does not mean that we cannot disagree, but it does frame our conversations differently.  Love does not permit dehumanizing another person or group of people through the use of name-calling and slurs.  Love does not say, “those people.”  Love challenges us when we say “those people.”  Love challenges us when we are cruel or careless.  Love talks about issues that matter, even at the risk of making us or others uncomfortable.  Oftentimes, love is shared in stories about and with the people we love.

Love talks about conflict, disappointment, and disagreement.  We wrestle together in disagreements because we do, in fact, love each other.  We tell each other when we are upset because we want to be in good, loving relationship with each other and we can’t when we’re not honest about things that matter.  Love brings us together to challenge and to be challenged.

When Paul says that the commandments “are summed up in this word, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” ¹⁰Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law,” he sets a different standard for us.  When love does no wrong and love fulfills the law, the conversations we have are different.

There is a lot of space for disagreement about policy, but the test of a law or policy, whether locally, nationally, or internationally is if it furthers love: honor, respect, dignity.

Does repealing DACA, a bill protecting and supporting those who came to this country as children without papers, further love?  How is it loving to send someone away from a country they call home?  You all know that there is nothing loving about deportation.  The fear and anxiety it causes are not love.  The families that will be broken apart lose out on love.

Love cares for others.  Love helps families stay together—stay in this country we call home.  Love respects and honors each person’s humanity.  Love provides and cares for each person, sheltering them when they are in danger.  Love challenges rhetoric and actions of hate and racial bias, even when it’s done by a neighbor or stranger here in town.

Love holds us to higher standards.  Love decries the prospect of Mutually Assured Destruction because the lives of people in our country and in other countries matter and because the best way to keep troops and people safe is to not start a war.  Love does not kill.  Love does not bomb.

Paul, who is writing to followers of Christ in the powerful Roman Empire, writes, “you know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; ¹²the night is far gone, the day is near. Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light.” 

Now is the time.  Love is the way.

Love is the fulfilling of the law, as Paul writes, and it is hard.  Love is not easy or quick or painless.  We know the pain of losing someone we love, whether through death or geography or through relationships broken beyond repair.

In baptism, Love digs deep into our hearts and lays down strong roots.  That’s why it can hurt so much to lose someone we love.  But that’s also how we get to live out the love that grows up and out of those roots, bearing good fruit, bearing love. 

Love is what we need right now.  We need the kind of love that brings compassion back into immigration policies, that keeps Dreamers and immigrants safe and in this country we call home, that puts human faces on policies and budgets and programs—humanizing those others try to demonize.  We need the kind of love that is appalled by war, violence, and threats of mass destruction.  We need the kind of love that values diversity in language, race, and culture.

Paul writes that “salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers.”  Salvation is not for us individually; it is not a personal, private thing.  Salvation is communal.  Salvation is Love actually reigning over every part of life and every interaction.  Love gets us through the struggles together.  Love doesn’t leave people to fend for themselves.  Love isn’t neutral.  Love picks a side.  Love picks the side of love—of caring for humanity and creation, of dignity, of honor, of respect.

Love enacts salvation.

Thanks be to God.

Who do you say Jesus is? 11th after pentecost a

The holy gospel according to Matthew (16:13-23)

¹³Now when Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi,

       he asked his disciples,

              “Who do people say that the Son of Humanity is?”

¹⁴And they said,

       “Some say John the Baptist,

              but others Elijah,

                     and still others Jeremiah or one of the prophets.”

¹⁵Jesus said to them,

       “But who do you say that I am?”

¹⁶Simon Peter answered,

       “You are the Messiah,

              the Son of the living God.”

¹⁷And Jesus answered him,

       “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah!

              For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you,

                     but my Father in heaven.

       ¹⁸And I tell you,

              you are Peter,

                     and on this rock I will build my church,

                            and the gates of Hades will not prevail against it.

                     ¹⁹I will give you the keys of the dominion of heaven,

                            and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven,

                            and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven.”

       ²⁰Then Jesus sternly ordered the disciples not to tell anyone

              that he was the Messiah.

²¹From that time on,

       Jesus began to show his disciples that he must go to Jerusalem

              and undergo great suffering

                     at the hands of the religious authorities,

              and be killed,

              and on the third day be raised.

²²And Peter took Jesus aside and began to rebuke him, saying,

       “God forbid it, Lord!

              This must never happen to you.”

²³But Jesus turned and said to Peter,

       “Get behind me, Satan!

              You are a stumbling block to me;

                     for you are setting your mind not on divine things

                            but on human things.”

The gospel of the Lord.

-----

Who do you say that Jesus is?   

Peter has his answer and jumps right in with it: “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God,” and Jesus totally affirms Peter: Right on! “Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven.”  But then, a mere 5 verses later, as Jesus explains what it actually means to be the Messiah, Peter finds out that he is totally off-base.

Maybe that’s why Jesus “sternly order[s] the disciples not to tell anyone that he [is] the Messiah.”  Peter, and now the rest of the disciples with him, have a title, a name for Jesus: Messiah, Son of the Living God, but they haven’t yet gotten what that means.

For Peter and for many at that time, the Messiah was the one to come and lead the violent overthrow of the occupying Roman Empire.  The Messiah would be powerful, a revolutionary.  But that is not quite who Jesus is.

At this point in the gospel of Matthew, we are just over halfway through and Jesus is shifting his focus to Jerusalem.  After Peter’s bold proclamation, Jesus is starting to explain what it actually means to be “the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”

Jesus shows and tells the disciples that as the Messiah, “he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the religious authorities, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.”  This Messiah is one who is with humanity in the pain and in the struggle.  Jesus is the Messiah who will confront injustice, but not the way Peter wants.  Instead of violently attacking and overthrowing, Jesus responds to the violence and oppression of his people by taking it all onto himself.  Jesus takes the pain and suffering of the whole world into his own self on the cross.

And as he begins to show this truth to the disciples, Peter gets spooked. 

This isn’t what Peter had in mind and so, in typical Peter fashion, he quickly speaks out to rebuke Jesus, saying, “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.”  Peter doesn’t want Jesus to die, but in our violent world, we respond to the ultimate Love with violence and so it will be for Jesus.

Peter rebukes Jesus and Jesus rebukes Peter right back.  The rock gets caught up in himself and becomes a stumbling block.  His assumptions about who Jesus is help and then hinder his ability to follow Jesus.

But Messiah is not the only name we call Jesus.

There is a poster on the back of the door to my childhood bedroom that lists most of the titles or names that we say Jesus is.  The Bread of Life, the Son of Humanity, the Christ, the Vine, the Living Water, the Good Shepherd, our Brother, Lord and Master.  Each of these points us to different aspects of who Jesus is.

No one name or title can fully define or describe Jesus.  We need these different names to give us a bigger picture and a deeper understanding.  When we only call Jesus one thing, we can lose sight of Jesus’ connection to the whole world.

When we say Jesus is Middle Eastern, born in 1^st century Palestine, not only are we being historically accurate, but we are also naming that the Divine dwells in Arab and Indigenous bodies, tied to the land on which they have lived for millenia.  When we say Jesus is an immigrant and refugee without papers, who fled with his family to Egypt, we recognize that God does not abide by our borders and laws, but instead journeys with people in their struggles for a better or safer life.

When we say Jesus is the Good Shepherd, we name the care God has for every person, guiding and calling to each of us.  When we say Jesus is the Bread of Life, we recognize the many ways that Jesus feeds and nourishes us—through communion, through fellowship, and through the gifts of creation.

When we say Jesus is the Son of Humanity, we recognize his humanness—his commitment to being truly with us.  When we say Jesus is the Son of God, we recognize God’s immense love for us that God would come to be with us at the same time as we recognize her power in creating all that is—from the tiniest atom to the greatest galaxy.

Dylan Roof, who attacked and killed 9 members of Mother Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church, and other white supremacists, including those we read and heard about in Charlottesville, Boston, and San Francisco, say Jesus is white.  Because whiteness is the norm and the default for our culture, they also mean that people of color are worth less and that white people matter more—that the Divine cannot dwell in bodies of color, but only in white bodies. 

Too often we imagine Jesus and God as white, as the ones with power and privilege, yet that is not how God chose to come into this world.  God chose to come into the world as a baby born into poverty, with unwed parents, hunted by the government.  When we say Jesus is white, we are like Peter rebuking Jesus, because it is scary and unsettling to admit that Jesus might be different from us, that Jesus might choose to not be all-powerful, that Jesus might not be on our side, if we are not siding with the oppressed.

But when we say Jesus is Black, we recognize that God chose to come to those who are oppressed and marginalized, that God is about liberating all people from powers and systems that oppress.  When we say Jesus is Lord, we name that all authority is his and that the power of God and our commitment to following Jesus is greater than any ruler, president, or country.

Who we say Jesus is matters—it both reflects and informs how we understand God, ourselves, and each other.  Different names and titles for Jesus can stretch our understanding of God and our faith and challenge our assumptions not only about God, but also about others and the world around us.

We can and do say Jesus is many things and the diversity of our responses to Jesus’ question, “Who do you say that I am?” reflects God’s diverse image and makes us a fuller body of Christ, because Jesus is all of the things we say and is so much more than we could ever name.  And so as we expand the language we use for Jesus and for God, we also expand our capacity to love God’s people and to embrace the whole body of Christ.  

Thanks be to God.