"podcast" Tagged Sermons (Page 65)
Fifth Sunday of Easter
On this fifth Sunday of Easter, we seem to have gone back in time to Maundy Thursday. To back up just one chapter, Jesus has washed his disciples’ feet, has told them about the necessity of his death, has told them one among the disciples will betray him, has given them the new commandment to love one another just as Jesus has loved them, and, finally, foretells Peter’s betrayal of Jesus on the night of his crucifixion…
Fourth Sunday of Easter
Jesus said to the Pharisees, “I am the gate.” It’s not an error in translation which we should interpret as Jesus being a gate keeper. Instead, this sentence is the key to understanding today’s gospel. Jesus as the gate in John’s gospel is similar to what brought comfort to the Psalmist in Psalm 23, namely the rod and the staff. Back in Psalm 23, the rod is the thing the shepherds use to fend off threats and the staff is the longer stick with the hook at the end that can help redirect sheep or rescue them from, say, a ditch. The hook helps to bring sheep back into the community of the fold. So too, in John, the gate is a protection mechanism for the sheep by limiting or slowing outside threats while also giving access to pastures so as to be “saved.” Or, to translate “saved” in another way from the original Greek, the gate gives access to the pastures so that the sheep can be healed, made whole, or restored. You see, the gate, which in this metaphor is Jesus, is what protected and granted access to wholeness and healing…
Third Sunday of Easter
If you’re like me, you’re probably going on a lot of walks. Whether it’s a 20 minute one around the block and through the park or just a quick jaunt to the mailroom, those walks have become a highlight of my otherwise monotonous days. Yet, again, if you’re like me, those same walks are now becoming part of the monotony. With the lakeshore closed, the handful of walks are becoming a bit boring. I’m getting to the point where I think I could walk these paths with my eyes closed. I am longing to be out in nature, out at the lakefront, to see that brilliant turquoise color of Lake Michigan, to sit on the rocks and dip my toes in the ice-cold water, to hang a hammock and read a book while listening and feeling the cool wind. All of these were essential to my mental and spiritual health. I feel a little empty without them. And so I continue these familiar walks, grieving the sights of the lake and becoming hopeless about when I will next be able to walk on its shore…