May 2022
"Wonder"
Third Sunday of Easter; based on John 21:1-14 (texts at end of post)
May 1, 2022
Last week, my husband Charlie and I traveled to Tacoma, Washington to visit his nephew Cole, his wife Alisha, and their one-year-old daughter Ella. Not having spent time with a baby in recent years, I was reminded of the wonder of discovery.
Like the wonder of Ella staring wide-eyed at the faces of her never-before-seen great-uncles. Like the wonder of a baby eating mashed potatoes. Like the sheer delight over her first taste of vanilla ice cream. Unless you’re the parent or grandparent of a baby, it’s easy to forget the wonder of life experienced for the very first time.
I have vague memories from my early childhood. Of lying in my crib, pretending to be asleep. Of popping my twin sister’s balloon and instantly feeling regret when she burst out crying.
And of catching my very first northern while fishing with my family! And calling my favorite Uncle Walter afterward to tell him all about it. About how when I ate it, I discovered that it was a very special fish with no bones. Which was weird because fish are supposed to have bones. But my fish was different and wonderful.
Of course, my Uncle Walter—being a good uncle—just listened to my story. All-the-while knowing that my mother must have served me a piece of fish without any bones, probably filleted by my dad. But my childhood wonder inserted a different explanation for that detail in my story.
I see the same kind of wonder in today’s Gospel story. Even though this is not a story about a baby girl or young boy’s wonder, but rather the wonder of a group of adults. At seeing something completely outside the realm of how the world normally operates.
For most of us older people focus on observable facts. We no longer see the world with the eyes of a child. Except for a few wise and lucky ones.
It seems to me that Peter was one of those who could still see the world with childlike wonder.
Peter who in this story seems more like Peter Pan, whose story is told and retold in books and films about a grown man who one day remembers how to see things he saw as a boy. Like fighting pirates, and flying children, and magical fairies named Tinker Bell.
In this post-Easter story retold only in Johns’ Gospel, there’s the wonder of impossible things. Where Peter’s eyes are opened to see the risen Christ. Not at the open tomb in Jerusalem, but on the shore of the very lake where Peter first met Jesus.
Where Peter first experienced the wonder of Jesus’ words. Where Peter first witnessed the presence of the Word-become-flesh. Where Peter now stares wide-eyed at the risen Jesus standing on the beach. Where Peter now suddenly knows—despite all the evidence against it—that this same Jesus is alive. Where Peter now is fully convinced that something wonderful is happening.
And where Peter now focuses on one simple detail that opens his eyes to the wonder before him: the number of fish they caught—one hundred and fifty-three.
Fishermen are like that. They want to know how many fish were caught. They want to know how big they were. They want to know where you caught them.
For centuries, theologians have wondered about the significance of the 153 large fish in this strange story. One early Christian suggested that 153 was the number of fish species in the Sea of Galilee—representing the attraction of the Gospel to every kind of human. Others claim 153 was the number of countries in the ancient world—symbolizing how the gospel would spread to every nation.
Years ago, Raymond E. Brown, once considered the foremost scholar of the Gospel of John, described a dream he once had about that number. He wrote, “I dreamed that I died and went to heaven, where I actually met the author of the Fourth Gospel. We talked about many things, but eventually I asked him that [one] nagging question: ‘What is the significance of the 153 large fish?' [The author simply] shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘That's how many we caught.’”
I can imagine Peter and John and the other disciples kneeling on the beach with their nets. Sorting the “keepers” (or largest fish) on the sand and throwing the little ones back into the water. Finally Peter stands— 2 wide-eyed with excitement—and tells everyone who would listen that they had caught 153 fish! An incredible story repeated over and over again for years to come around campfires, and for future centuries in churches like ours.
Proof to those hesitant to believe the unbelievable. That Jesus had risen from the dead. And walked back into their everyday lives. As part of the best fishing story ever!
A wonderful story that didn’t just happen two thousand years ago. But happens again today. When like Peter, we go fishing. When like those first Christians, we dare to believe. When like children, we see our world with wonder.
The Oxford Dictionary defines “wonder” as “a feeling of surprise and admiration that you have when you see or experience something… beautiful, unusual, or unexpected.”* Mystics and artists (myself included) might describe wonder as a heightened state of consciousness and joy and awe in response to something incredibly beautiful or surprising. An experience I’ve known after finishing a painting. Which for me often also instills a sense of God, the divine creator.
Thomas Aquinas, a medieval Catholic theologian, once described philosophers and poets as similar because (in his words) they’re both “big with wonder.” I like the idea of being “big with wonder.” It’s something that you and I could do more often. To be “big with wonder” is to observe within the ordinary something greater than ourselves.
It’s to look at a baby’s smile, and see the wondrous image of God reflected. It’s to look at a flower and see the intense color of each petal and intricate design of each stamen, and wonder how it comes to be each Spring. It’s to gaze into the eyes of a loved one and cherish the bond you share. It’s to receive a piece of bread in your hand and be amazed at the grace present for you and for me. It’s to realize that the miracle of the resurrection can be revealed even in a simple fishing story.
Wonder makes us see that we are not alone in this world. Wonder creates faith when you’re not sure exactly what you believe. Wonder moves you and me to step outside our daily concerns—to feel compassion for those who live with pain or poverty or war.
As the late Stephen Hawking, the English theoretical physicist once said: “Remember to look up at the stars and not down at your feet. Try to make sense of what you see and wonder about what makes the universe exist…. And however difficult life may seem, there is always something you can do.”***
So, my friend, today I ask you to take time to experience the wonder of human life and specifically your life. However that may be true for you. In whatever situation you may be.
And in that wonder, like Peter, may you find Jesus the risen one. Revealed anew each day. And walking with you wherever you may go.
And in that wonder, may you know the wondrous love of God. Amen.
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*Oxford Leaners Dictionary, https://www.oxfordlearnersdictionaries.com/us/definition/english/wonder_1?q=wonder.
**Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel According to John (Garden City: Doubleday, Vol. 1, 1966; Vol. II, 1970)
***Dr. Stephen Hawking; speech at Cambridge University, January 8, 2012; https://www.theguardian.com/science/2012/jan/08/stephen-hawking-70- cambridge-speech
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Gospel Lesson: John 21:1-14
After [he appeared to his followers in Jerusalem,] Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he showed himself in this way. Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his disciples. Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We will go with you.” They went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing. Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They answered him, “No.” He said to them, “Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, only about a hundred yards off. When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them; and though there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, “Who are you?” because they knew it was the Lord. Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. This was now the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.
Like the wonder of Ella staring wide-eyed at the faces of her never-before-seen great-uncles. Like the wonder of a baby eating mashed potatoes. Like the sheer delight over her first taste of vanilla ice cream. Unless you’re the parent or grandparent of a baby, it’s easy to forget the wonder of life experienced for the very first time.
I have vague memories from my early childhood. Of lying in my crib, pretending to be asleep. Of popping my twin sister’s balloon and instantly feeling regret when she burst out crying.
And of catching my very first northern while fishing with my family! And calling my favorite Uncle Walter afterward to tell him all about it. About how when I ate it, I discovered that it was a very special fish with no bones. Which was weird because fish are supposed to have bones. But my fish was different and wonderful.
Of course, my Uncle Walter—being a good uncle—just listened to my story. All-the-while knowing that my mother must have served me a piece of fish without any bones, probably filleted by my dad. But my childhood wonder inserted a different explanation for that detail in my story.
I see the same kind of wonder in today’s Gospel story. Even though this is not a story about a baby girl or young boy’s wonder, but rather the wonder of a group of adults. At seeing something completely outside the realm of how the world normally operates.
For most of us older people focus on observable facts. We no longer see the world with the eyes of a child. Except for a few wise and lucky ones.
It seems to me that Peter was one of those who could still see the world with childlike wonder.
Peter who in this story seems more like Peter Pan, whose story is told and retold in books and films about a grown man who one day remembers how to see things he saw as a boy. Like fighting pirates, and flying children, and magical fairies named Tinker Bell.
In this post-Easter story retold only in Johns’ Gospel, there’s the wonder of impossible things. Where Peter’s eyes are opened to see the risen Christ. Not at the open tomb in Jerusalem, but on the shore of the very lake where Peter first met Jesus.
Where Peter first experienced the wonder of Jesus’ words. Where Peter first witnessed the presence of the Word-become-flesh. Where Peter now stares wide-eyed at the risen Jesus standing on the beach. Where Peter now suddenly knows—despite all the evidence against it—that this same Jesus is alive. Where Peter now is fully convinced that something wonderful is happening.
And where Peter now focuses on one simple detail that opens his eyes to the wonder before him: the number of fish they caught—one hundred and fifty-three.
Fishermen are like that. They want to know how many fish were caught. They want to know how big they were. They want to know where you caught them.
For centuries, theologians have wondered about the significance of the 153 large fish in this strange story. One early Christian suggested that 153 was the number of fish species in the Sea of Galilee—representing the attraction of the Gospel to every kind of human. Others claim 153 was the number of countries in the ancient world—symbolizing how the gospel would spread to every nation.
Years ago, Raymond E. Brown, once considered the foremost scholar of the Gospel of John, described a dream he once had about that number. He wrote, “I dreamed that I died and went to heaven, where I actually met the author of the Fourth Gospel. We talked about many things, but eventually I asked him that [one] nagging question: ‘What is the significance of the 153 large fish?' [The author simply] shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘That's how many we caught.’”
I can imagine Peter and John and the other disciples kneeling on the beach with their nets. Sorting the “keepers” (or largest fish) on the sand and throwing the little ones back into the water. Finally Peter stands— 2 wide-eyed with excitement—and tells everyone who would listen that they had caught 153 fish! An incredible story repeated over and over again for years to come around campfires, and for future centuries in churches like ours.
Proof to those hesitant to believe the unbelievable. That Jesus had risen from the dead. And walked back into their everyday lives. As part of the best fishing story ever!
A wonderful story that didn’t just happen two thousand years ago. But happens again today. When like Peter, we go fishing. When like those first Christians, we dare to believe. When like children, we see our world with wonder.
The Oxford Dictionary defines “wonder” as “a feeling of surprise and admiration that you have when you see or experience something… beautiful, unusual, or unexpected.”* Mystics and artists (myself included) might describe wonder as a heightened state of consciousness and joy and awe in response to something incredibly beautiful or surprising. An experience I’ve known after finishing a painting. Which for me often also instills a sense of God, the divine creator.
Thomas Aquinas, a medieval Catholic theologian, once described philosophers and poets as similar because (in his words) they’re both “big with wonder.” I like the idea of being “big with wonder.” It’s something that you and I could do more often. To be “big with wonder” is to observe within the ordinary something greater than ourselves.
It’s to look at a baby’s smile, and see the wondrous image of God reflected. It’s to look at a flower and see the intense color of each petal and intricate design of each stamen, and wonder how it comes to be each Spring. It’s to gaze into the eyes of a loved one and cherish the bond you share. It’s to receive a piece of bread in your hand and be amazed at the grace present for you and for me. It’s to realize that the miracle of the resurrection can be revealed even in a simple fishing story.
Wonder makes us see that we are not alone in this world. Wonder creates faith when you’re not sure exactly what you believe. Wonder moves you and me to step outside our daily concerns—to feel compassion for those who live with pain or poverty or war.
As the late Stephen Hawking, the English theoretical physicist once said: “Remember to look up at the stars and not down at your feet. Try to make sense of what you see and wonder about what makes the universe exist…. And however difficult life may seem, there is always something you can do.”***
So, my friend, today I ask you to take time to experience the wonder of human life and specifically your life. However that may be true for you. In whatever situation you may be.
And in that wonder, like Peter, may you find Jesus the risen one. Revealed anew each day. And walking with you wherever you may go.
And in that wonder, may you know the wondrous love of God. Amen.
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*Oxford Leaners Dictionary, https://www.oxfordlearnersdictionaries.com/us/definition/english/wonder_1?q=wonder.
**Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel According to John (Garden City: Doubleday, Vol. 1, 1966; Vol. II, 1970)
***Dr. Stephen Hawking; speech at Cambridge University, January 8, 2012; https://www.theguardian.com/science/2012/jan/08/stephen-hawking-70- cambridge-speech
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Gospel Lesson: John 21:1-14
After [he appeared to his followers in Jerusalem,] Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he showed himself in this way. Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his disciples. Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We will go with you.” They went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing. Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They answered him, “No.” He said to them, “Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, only about a hundred yards off. When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them; and though there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, “Who are you?” because they knew it was the Lord. Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish. This was now the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.
"Our Family Tree"
Seventh Sunday of Easter; based on John 17:20-26 (texts at end of post)
May 29, 2022
Some of you know that one of the reasons I decided to transition to be your part-time pastor is that I wanted to have more time to do things that I just never had enough time to do before. Like painting. Like gardening. Like traveling. Like spending time with my husband Charlie.
I also have an interest in genealogy, and would like to do more research in tracing my family tree. I’ve played around with Ancestry.com from time to time over the years, but never got very far. A couple weeks ago, however, that changed.
Three of my grandparents came to Minnesota from Scandinavia—from Norway, Sweden and Finland. But my family had no records of exactly where. My maternal grandfather, William Callander was the only one born here in the United States. Ironically, it’s in the Callander family tree where I finally made a new discovery.
The way Ancestry.com works is that if you can find someone else who has done more research on your family genealogy—like maybe a second or third cousin—and there’s a “hint” or connection (such as the sibling of a great-grandparent), then you use that information to link your family tree to theirs.
And that’s exactly what I did! And suddenly, I found a list of Callander ancestors going all the way back to my great, great, great grandfather, Johan Erickson Kallander (spelled with a “K” instead of a “C” like we do here), who was born in 1789 and died in 1822—exactly 200 years ago! Johan lived in Nederkalix, Sweden, a town that sits on the border of Finland.
Which might answer a question I’ve had about William and Ida Callander, the only grandparents I knew as a kid. What puzzled me about them is that even though Grandpa Callander’s family was Swedish, he and my Grandma (who immigrated from Finland) always spoke Finnish at home.
But now, it makes sense to me that if Grandpa’s ancestors always lived on the border of Finland, they must have spoken both languages. A discovery that helps me better understand where my ancestors came from. With a new, deep desire to visit those places—one of the trips I hope to take in the future!
It may be a bit of a stretch, but today’s Gospel lesson reminds me of a family tree. Though not the kind of tree that tracks a bloodline. Instead it’s a tree of love that links all of us modern Christians to those who came before. In this passage from John, Jesus prays: “Father, I desire that those also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory, which you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world.”
In John, there is no Christmas story, because Jesus traces his own family tree directly to God. In John, God is the parent of Jesus, the only begotten son of God. The one who reveals the Father’s glory. These words of Jesus are really a farewell prayer that Jesus offers the night before he dies, just hours before he’s arrested.
Jesus, of course, had no genetic offspring—unless you believe some of the theories proposed by people like Dan Brown in his book The DaVinci Code (made into a movie starring Tom Hanks), suggesting Jesus and Mary Magdalene had children and generations of descendants.
Yet even Ancestry.com can’t prove that claim. But John’s Gospel does claim that Jesus left behind spiritual children, in the beloved community that carried on the faith of Jesus after his death. A community with living descendants among our little St. Mark’s gathering here today.
A community that doesn’t have a family tree. But I believe it’s no coincidence that we worship here at Temple Beth El under their Tree of Life. Where God has called us to live as two communities bound together in love in one space.
A love that Jesus traces back to the foundations of the world. Which in Jewish tradition is linked to Genesis and the story of the Garden of Eden, where the original tree of life stood. A tree that offered the promise of life eternal. The same promise Jesus makes in John’s Gospel. And even though most Christians think of eternal life only in terms of heaven, I wonder if there’s another promise here.
For in our lesson, Jesus is also praying: “Righteous Father, the world does not know you, but I know you; and these know that you have sent me. I made your name known to them, and I will make it known, so that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them.”
The name of God is holy for our Jewish siblings. So holy that they don’t say it—instead using words like “HaShem” (which in Hebrew means “The Name.”) With that in mind, I hear the Jewishness of Jesus’ prayer. And the promise that Jesus has revealed the meaning of God’s name to all of those who are his faith descendants and members of the beloved community.
In John, the bond that links God the Parent with Jesus is synonymous with love. The same bond that links our love for God with our love for one another. A love that nurtures us like the leaves of a tree are fed by its roots. And as parts of that ancient tree, tended by God, with branches linking people of many faiths. In that tree, we witness that the oneness Jesus offers believers isn’t an exclusive club for members of a special bloodline. But instead an open invitation to God’s family tree—welcoming those who feel excluded by others.
Here, Jesus is praying like a mother who has adopted all believers—as children who originally belonged to God, but now are watched and cared for by Jesus.
Pastor Barbara Lundblad is a Lutheran theologian, and a member of the Proclaim network of LGBTQ clergy and seminarians to which I belong. Years ago as a pastor, Barbara visited an African American woman whose son was involved in their church’s youth group. As they sat together in her home at a table, the woman shared her daily anxiety over her son.
“Every time he goes out of the house,” she said, I say a prayer that he’ll be safe…. You know, when there are more than two black boys walking down the street, people get suspicious. They attract attention from the police. It happens all the time Even if they don’t do anything, they’re likely to get in trouble. So I keep praying until [my son] comes back in the door.” *
This past Wednesday marked the two-year anniversary of the death of another black mother’s son, George Floyd. None of us can forget the 9-minute video that showed George pinned under a police officer, crying out, “I can’t breathe!” over and over again. And in his final moments, calling for his mother.
A somber anniversary overshadowed this week by the horrific school shooting in Uvalde, TX. Along with the supermarket shooting the week before in Buffalo, NY. For many of us, it’s simply too much to bear. I think most of us here are one in our belief that gun violence and racial hatred are out of control. Social evils that should unite no one.
And yet, if we as Christians believe the Gospel story, if we as Lutherans believe in God’s grace, if we as Americans believe that everyone is created equal in the image of God, we are faced with the reality that only love in action can overcome the evil that surrounds us.
Tomorrow is Memorial Day. A day created to honor those killed in wars. For families that lost children and cousins, parents and grandparents, friends and neighbors. In some wars fought generations ago. Others more recent.
For most of human history we have allowed our ancestors, our nations, our communities to fight over boundaries, differences, even religion. I hope we can see where that has gotten us. There’s no oneness, no love in that. And that’s not what we need today.
I don’t know about you, but I think joining in Jesus’ prayer is one unifying thing we can do. But it can’t be just a prayer for peace or unity. For Jesus is praying that you and I will be one. And be the ones to answer Jesus’ prayer.
We answer that prayer every time we choose how to love, who to love, and where to love. Especially when that love stands against hate and violence.
Beloved members of this St. Mark’s community, I believe it’s time for us to answer Jesus’ prayer. It’s time to deal with one another in love. It’s time to listen to what Jesus is calling you to do—in your life, in your neighborhood, in your school, in your work, in your church today.
Together, let us listen and respond to what Jesus is praying. Amen.
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* Barbara Lundblad, Working Preacher Commentary on John 17:20-26; May 8, 2016 (https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/seventh-sunday-of-easter-3/commentary-on-john-1720-26-3)
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Gospel Lesson: John 17:20-26
[Jesus prayed,]“I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me. Father, I desire that those also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory, which you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world. “Righteous Father, the world does not know you, but I know you; and these know that you have sent me. I made your name known to them, and I will make it known, so that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them.”
I also have an interest in genealogy, and would like to do more research in tracing my family tree. I’ve played around with Ancestry.com from time to time over the years, but never got very far. A couple weeks ago, however, that changed.
Three of my grandparents came to Minnesota from Scandinavia—from Norway, Sweden and Finland. But my family had no records of exactly where. My maternal grandfather, William Callander was the only one born here in the United States. Ironically, it’s in the Callander family tree where I finally made a new discovery.
The way Ancestry.com works is that if you can find someone else who has done more research on your family genealogy—like maybe a second or third cousin—and there’s a “hint” or connection (such as the sibling of a great-grandparent), then you use that information to link your family tree to theirs.
And that’s exactly what I did! And suddenly, I found a list of Callander ancestors going all the way back to my great, great, great grandfather, Johan Erickson Kallander (spelled with a “K” instead of a “C” like we do here), who was born in 1789 and died in 1822—exactly 200 years ago! Johan lived in Nederkalix, Sweden, a town that sits on the border of Finland.
Which might answer a question I’ve had about William and Ida Callander, the only grandparents I knew as a kid. What puzzled me about them is that even though Grandpa Callander’s family was Swedish, he and my Grandma (who immigrated from Finland) always spoke Finnish at home.
But now, it makes sense to me that if Grandpa’s ancestors always lived on the border of Finland, they must have spoken both languages. A discovery that helps me better understand where my ancestors came from. With a new, deep desire to visit those places—one of the trips I hope to take in the future!
It may be a bit of a stretch, but today’s Gospel lesson reminds me of a family tree. Though not the kind of tree that tracks a bloodline. Instead it’s a tree of love that links all of us modern Christians to those who came before. In this passage from John, Jesus prays: “Father, I desire that those also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory, which you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world.”
In John, there is no Christmas story, because Jesus traces his own family tree directly to God. In John, God is the parent of Jesus, the only begotten son of God. The one who reveals the Father’s glory. These words of Jesus are really a farewell prayer that Jesus offers the night before he dies, just hours before he’s arrested.
Jesus, of course, had no genetic offspring—unless you believe some of the theories proposed by people like Dan Brown in his book The DaVinci Code (made into a movie starring Tom Hanks), suggesting Jesus and Mary Magdalene had children and generations of descendants.
Yet even Ancestry.com can’t prove that claim. But John’s Gospel does claim that Jesus left behind spiritual children, in the beloved community that carried on the faith of Jesus after his death. A community with living descendants among our little St. Mark’s gathering here today.
A community that doesn’t have a family tree. But I believe it’s no coincidence that we worship here at Temple Beth El under their Tree of Life. Where God has called us to live as two communities bound together in love in one space.
A love that Jesus traces back to the foundations of the world. Which in Jewish tradition is linked to Genesis and the story of the Garden of Eden, where the original tree of life stood. A tree that offered the promise of life eternal. The same promise Jesus makes in John’s Gospel. And even though most Christians think of eternal life only in terms of heaven, I wonder if there’s another promise here.
For in our lesson, Jesus is also praying: “Righteous Father, the world does not know you, but I know you; and these know that you have sent me. I made your name known to them, and I will make it known, so that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them.”
The name of God is holy for our Jewish siblings. So holy that they don’t say it—instead using words like “HaShem” (which in Hebrew means “The Name.”) With that in mind, I hear the Jewishness of Jesus’ prayer. And the promise that Jesus has revealed the meaning of God’s name to all of those who are his faith descendants and members of the beloved community.
In John, the bond that links God the Parent with Jesus is synonymous with love. The same bond that links our love for God with our love for one another. A love that nurtures us like the leaves of a tree are fed by its roots. And as parts of that ancient tree, tended by God, with branches linking people of many faiths. In that tree, we witness that the oneness Jesus offers believers isn’t an exclusive club for members of a special bloodline. But instead an open invitation to God’s family tree—welcoming those who feel excluded by others.
Here, Jesus is praying like a mother who has adopted all believers—as children who originally belonged to God, but now are watched and cared for by Jesus.
Pastor Barbara Lundblad is a Lutheran theologian, and a member of the Proclaim network of LGBTQ clergy and seminarians to which I belong. Years ago as a pastor, Barbara visited an African American woman whose son was involved in their church’s youth group. As they sat together in her home at a table, the woman shared her daily anxiety over her son.
“Every time he goes out of the house,” she said, I say a prayer that he’ll be safe…. You know, when there are more than two black boys walking down the street, people get suspicious. They attract attention from the police. It happens all the time Even if they don’t do anything, they’re likely to get in trouble. So I keep praying until [my son] comes back in the door.” *
This past Wednesday marked the two-year anniversary of the death of another black mother’s son, George Floyd. None of us can forget the 9-minute video that showed George pinned under a police officer, crying out, “I can’t breathe!” over and over again. And in his final moments, calling for his mother.
A somber anniversary overshadowed this week by the horrific school shooting in Uvalde, TX. Along with the supermarket shooting the week before in Buffalo, NY. For many of us, it’s simply too much to bear. I think most of us here are one in our belief that gun violence and racial hatred are out of control. Social evils that should unite no one.
And yet, if we as Christians believe the Gospel story, if we as Lutherans believe in God’s grace, if we as Americans believe that everyone is created equal in the image of God, we are faced with the reality that only love in action can overcome the evil that surrounds us.
Tomorrow is Memorial Day. A day created to honor those killed in wars. For families that lost children and cousins, parents and grandparents, friends and neighbors. In some wars fought generations ago. Others more recent.
For most of human history we have allowed our ancestors, our nations, our communities to fight over boundaries, differences, even religion. I hope we can see where that has gotten us. There’s no oneness, no love in that. And that’s not what we need today.
I don’t know about you, but I think joining in Jesus’ prayer is one unifying thing we can do. But it can’t be just a prayer for peace or unity. For Jesus is praying that you and I will be one. And be the ones to answer Jesus’ prayer.
We answer that prayer every time we choose how to love, who to love, and where to love. Especially when that love stands against hate and violence.
Beloved members of this St. Mark’s community, I believe it’s time for us to answer Jesus’ prayer. It’s time to deal with one another in love. It’s time to listen to what Jesus is calling you to do—in your life, in your neighborhood, in your school, in your work, in your church today.
Together, let us listen and respond to what Jesus is praying. Amen.
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* Barbara Lundblad, Working Preacher Commentary on John 17:20-26; May 8, 2016 (https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/seventh-sunday-of-easter-3/commentary-on-john-1720-26-3)
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Gospel Lesson: John 17:20-26
[Jesus prayed,]“I ask not only on behalf of these, but also on behalf of those who will believe in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may become completely one, so that the world may know that you have sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me. Father, I desire that those also, whom you have given me, may be with me where I am, to see my glory, which you have given me because you loved me before the foundation of the world. “Righteous Father, the world does not know you, but I know you; and these know that you have sent me. I made your name known to them, and I will make it known, so that the love with which you have loved me may be in them, and I in them.”