5 Easter A May 14, 2017
Luther Memorial Church Seattle, WA
The Rev. Julie Hutson
Acts 7: 55-60 + Psalm 31: 1-5, 15-16 + 1 Peter 2: 2-10
John 14: 1-14
Alleluia! Christ is Risen! Christ is risen, indeed! Alleluia!
When we were on sabbatical and staying in Germany, we had the opportunity to encounter a castle or two. Castles in many shapes and sizes are fairly common place in Europe. They provided refuge and shelter; they were a place of safety; they were a place from where a watch could be kept from the top of the towers to see if one’s enemies were coming.
The city of Nuremberg has a castle, which has a rich and interesting history, including a stunning chapel where the royalty worshipped. It also has a very high tower and one can climb that tower if you are feeling up to it, even today.
When we were taking an official tour of the castle, with our son Robert, Bruce and Robert decided they wanted to climb the tower. I, on the other hand, was willing to wait for them down below. It was a sunny day and there was a bench, so I was happy to let them make the trek to the top of the tower while I waited contentedly among the tourists and locals out enjoying the day.
As I was waiting, a mother approached me. In one hand she held the leash of her adorable energetic puppy and in her other hand she held the hand of her adorable toddler. The mother spoke to me in rapid German. I understand German….well, some German….but it has to be sloooowww German. This mother was speaking rapid fire German and gesturing wildly to the puppy and the toddler. I did not understand a word she was saying but I knew exactly what she was telling me. The child had to go to the bathroom. And the mother had this puppy. So I nodded and took the puppy by the leash while the mother and toddler scurried away….sincerely hoping that I’d interpreted her correctly and had not just agreed to adopt her puppy.
In the meantime, Robert and Bruce arrived at the top of the tower, looked over and saw me sitting there, new puppy friend at my side.
The Psalm for today offers us the image of God as a castle and a tower of strength. God as a place of protection. God to keep us and save us. The Psalmist is pleading with God, throughout the psalm, for protection and safety…for shelter and refuge.
I love those images. I need those images. I long to lean into those images. God as castle and tower and rock and stronghold. God will keep us safe.
This Psalm is assigned to this set of lectionary readings today because it is quoted by Stephen in our first reading from Acts. We remember that it is also quoted by Jesus as he hung, dying, on the cross. “Into your hands, I commend my spirit.”
It strikes me that this statement, made at the time of death in the case of Stephen and Jesus, is a statement also suited for our living. Into your hands, I commend my spirit.
What if this was our prayer every day as we rise to begin the day? Into your hands I commend my spirit.
What if this was our prayer every day at mid-day, when we pause perhaps for a meal or just a break in the day. To renew and replenish and re-charge. Into your hands I commend my spirit.
What if this was our prayer as the shadows of evening fall…as we light the lamps in our homes and turn our attention to the last things of the day? Into your hands I commend my spirit.
And what if this was our prayer as we sleep, as we offer to God all that the day has held, knowing that we have done all that we can with it and it belongs again to our Creator of day and night. Into your hands I commend my spirit.
If these words from the Psalmist became a prayer for us each day, how would it make a difference in what we do, how we respond to others, how we care for others and ourselves, and what we believe is possible.
What we know, is that to commend, to offer, our spirits to God or to anyone, we must trust that they will receive them. And trusting others with our spirits or with our lives or with our emotional care can be hard. How do we know they won’t let us down? How do we know they are worthy of our trust?
What we need, as we consider this, is the whole story. For reasons of brevity and clarity, the lectionary sometimes only offers us parts and pieces of a Psalm or a reading, especially if that reading is long. But in the case of this Psalm, on this day, we miss out on the meat of the Psalm, because what’s left out is the rest of the story….the part that explains why the Psalmist needs the protection of God.
So, hear the words of Psalm 31,beginning at verse 6: I hate those who cling to useless idols; but I trust in you. I’ll be happy, I’ll rejoice in your love – for you saw my despair, you knew the dark night of my soul. You didn’t hand me over to the enemy, but gave my feet boundless freedom. Now take pity on me, YHWH, for I’m in trouble again. I cried so much that I’m exhausted- and not only my eyes, but my mind and body as well. My life is consumed by sorrow; my years are worn out with my sighs; my strength fails me because of my despair; my bones are getting weaker. Because of all my oppressors I’m held in utter contempt, even by my neighbors; my friends are afraid of me, and people who see me on the street hurry past me. I am forgotten, as good as dead in their hearts, like something that has outlived its usefulness. I hear their endless slanders, and threats from every quarter as they conspire against me, plotting to take my life. (ends at verse 13)
The pleas of the Psalmist for protection make a lot more sense when we understand their source. The Psalmist has experienced a dark night of the soul before and now, they say, I’m in trouble again. In so much trouble that they are physically and emotionally spent, worn out. Even those who claim to love them have abandoned them.
We can look at current situations in our world and imagine such a need for the protection of God. The desperation of immigrants and refugees who are fleeing from unimaginable violence. The cries of mothers whose children are lost to them because of addiction or gangs. The anguish of fathers whose children have died in war.
And while we don’t know the details of the Psalmist’s cry, we all know, somewhere deep within us, what it feels like….what it feels like to enter a place of struggle and sorrow and need God to be the castle that protects us….what it feels like to be so pursued by those who wish us harm, to be so utterly turned on by those we thought we could trust, that we need God to be the tower that keeps watch for those very people.
So how do we live in those days? In the days when our cries for God’s protection feel so very necessary.
There is a rabbinical tradition that reminds the Hebrew people that they live in the sixth day….that they are awaiting the Messiah. For Christians, though, we live in something of an eighth day. Jesus has already come. And, as we heard Jesus say to the disciples in the Gospel reading this morning, Jesus has already gone ahead to prepare a place for us. It is a place where we will be with Christ for eternity. It is a place that, while we don’t know what it will be like exactly, I am certain that it will be beyond what we can begin to know or imagine.
And so we live as people of the already and the not yet. Jesus has already come. This is true for us who believe in him as Messiah and historically true as well. And yet, Christ will come again. This we cling to in the midst of every anxious and trouble filled moment.
In those moments, and in every moment, may we hear and believe the final verse of Psalm 31, which we also do not hear in the lectionary today. The Psalmist encourages everyone: “Be strong; let your heart be bold, you who hope in the Lord.”
So, beloved of God, go forth into the world with boldness, trusting that God is your stronghold, your refuge, your castle. Offer God your spirit, trusting that the God of truth, has redeemed your and called you God’s own beloved children.
Thanks be to God and let the church say…Amen.