Preparing a place in an imperfect world

John 13:33-14:7

There is a line in today’s gospel reading that did not sit well on my heart this week. Jesus is gathered with his disciples, teaching them, and he says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.”  As I read these words over and over, they felt irrelevant. It was like some platitude or advice out of left field. Like Jesus sort of reaching over and patting my hand, “there, there, Lindsay, do not let your heart be troubled.”  Ah, yes. Thank you for your well wishes, Jesus, but these days, my heart is troubled.

The state of my soul has fluctuated emotionally over the last couple of months (perhaps that is a diplomatic way to put it).  Yes, this is in great part because our daily routine of work and school has been scrambled.  We miss seeing our family and friends. Plans we had for this summer have been cancelled. But on top of our personal little world that has been rocked, I’m rattled by other things too: By the number of folks I know whose jobs have been cut or shuttered. About the spread of covid especially in places like prisons and nursing homes.  My heart clenches when I see that the driver who has brought our dinner to our door is a slight white haired man named Miguel (according to my phone) with mannerism that reminds me of my father-in-law.  I’m unsettled that the county where my extended family is from in rural Nebraska has exponential growth in covid cases from the local Tyson meat packing plant where predominantly immigrants from Somalia work. 

My heart is troubled. 

I know some of you share this feeling of troubled right now. Some of us have lost family members and loved ones in the last weeks—some have died of old age and others have died tragically but regardless, we can’t mourn for them in a funeral service how we wish we could.  And speaking of grief, there’s the heartbreaking story of the young black man, Ahmuad Arbery who’s violent death was swept aside for many weeks until, by chance, incontestable evidence surfaced this week which  was grounds to arrest his killers.

Yes, Jesus: My heart is troubled. 

They say that we’re all grieving for all the things right now (whoever they are).  We grieve for the little things in life that have shifted.  We grieve for our dead who we cannot mourn in the way we long to. We grieve because the covid pandemic has forced us to roll back the polished veneer of who we are as a nation and stare systemic inequality in the face. 

In 1936, Langston Hughes wrote:

“Let America be America again

Let it be the dream it used to be  

Let it be the pioneer on the plain

Seeking a home where he himself is free

(America never was America to me.)”

Sometimes, it can feel hard to figure out how or where God is working and moving in all of this pain, grit and grief of life.  Last fall, the movie “Harriet” came out in theaters. It was a dramatization of the life of one of our great historical figures, the abolitionist, Harriet Tubman. The movie mostly chronicles about 10 years of so of Harriet’s life when she escaped slavery and became a conductor on the underground railroad.  According to the Smithsonian, a lot of the movie does parallel Harriet’s real life.  The grief illustrated in Harriet’s story and in the movie is very real.  Her heart was deeply troubled. She experiences the personal grief, agony and rage for her family suffering in slavery, and then a wider grief and anger for a segregated society and for all Black people living in bondage a slavery-infested south.

I find a strong echo of gospel truth in the life and story of Harriet Tubman.  Jesus’ words today remind us that in front of a troubled heart, it’s easy to turn inward.   But Harriet Tubman, in the face of the cruelty of life, she turned to love. She was passionate, militant, determined. And in it, she was almost ridiculously committed to loving people.  Upon obtaining her freedom, she could have stayed in Philadelphia, turned inward, and created a new life for herself but she dedicated her life outward to the abolitionist movement, to loving people. 

Looking at the gospel story for today, Jesus and the disciples are in a terrible situation saturated with grief, fear and pain.  Judas has just fled from the meal, Jesus has just told everyone that Peter will abandon him, there is civil unrest as people are exploited under the thumb of Rome, there is danger in the air, Jesus knows that he will soon die (and he will be violently executed by the state).  Their souls are deeply troubled. Jesus knows this and offers them words of comfort. Into that night of fear and grief, Jesus’ disciples could have turned inward, hidden, isolated themselves, protected themselves and faded into history. Instead, Jesus tells them to lean into love.  “Love one another,” Jesus says. “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” 

Grief and love, when we open our hearts, are so often two sides of the same coin.  They co-exist together. Sometimes, when someone dies, it can inspire people to love more deeply: to set up a scholarship fund in memory of someone, to dedicate ourselves to a particular kind of service or raise money in or memory of the deceased.  We can either respond to grief by isolating ourselves, by focusing on protecting ourselves, and intentionally drift away from the  social realities that are going on in the world, or we can lean into love. 

Culturally, leaning into love isn’t always our forte.  In times of crisis, we panic, we look inward, we demonize others, we self-righteously claim our positions. Anyone can critique another group that’s out there.  But as people of God in times of grief and heartache, we are called to love, to run towards the needs of our society, to love others as we love ourselves.

Harriet Tubman died as an old woman in her 90s.  Her last words, were a quote from today’s gospel reading. As she died, the last thing she said was,   “I go to prepare a place for you” which is echoed in the last line of the theme song, “Stand Up” from the movie “Harriet” that I mentioned earlier.

Sometimes, we think of that “place that Jesus prepares for us” as a bright, shiny room for us up in the sky somewhere. While I do think that God does prepare a place for us where we will eternally be with him one day, we are cutting the gospel way short if we think that is the whole story.  I think Harriet Tubman brought heaven to earth to prepare a place, in the name of Jesus, where all people were free from the bondage of slavery. And in the face of grief? that is the face of love.   

I think that the disciples of Jesus Christ, after he died and rose and ascended, in the face of grief and pain and heartache, they brought heaven to earth and sowed seeds of the first Christian communities where each person in society had a place at the table. A place where there was neither jew nor Greek, nor male nor female, neither slave nor free, where there was room for us all. In the disciples grief and pain, that is the face of love.

I think that we are called as a church—as Christians--out of our grief and heartache, to prepare a place of anti-racism, of equality, of economic justice of safety from abuse. To show up and bring heaven to earth because that is the face of love. 

Next week, we’re going to tell you more about a match that we have set up of several thousand dollars for our local food pantry: It’s a need in our midst that is acute, And we’re going to respond.  I know that we have folks who Volunteer at this food pantry, and who are also doing important work at some of the other pantries which is so important. Offering money is important, critical in these times of economic disparity, but so is taking a hard look at our history and systemic injustice which we are also called to as a church. And in our grief and pain, that is the challenging face of love.

The last stanza of the song, “Stand Up,” from the movie “Harriet” which Cynthia Erivo sings is:

I'm gonna stand up

Take my people with me

Together we are going

To a brand new home

Far across the river

I hear freedom calling

Calling me to answer

Gonna keep on keepin' on

I can feel it in my bones

I go to prepare a place for you

I go to prepare a place for you

I go to prepare a place for you

I go to prepare a place for you

In your grief, in this moment when our hearts are troubled, what is the place that you are called to prepare?

An unexpected gate

John 10:1-10 

At the most southwestern point of California, about 20 miles from downtown San Diego, there’s a park that looks out over the wide expanse of the pacific ocean.  Standing in the park, you can see the tall slats of the border fence march through the grassy, sandy bluff, down towards the beach, into the water.  The waves roll up out of the pacific and crest across the beach, across both sides of that fence. On the Tiujana side of the wall, this park is known as la Parque de la Amistad.  On the San Diego side of the wall, this park is known as Friendship Park.

Decades ago, people met at the wall and exchanged cards and notes with family, you could even buy a tamale or an ice cream from one side and pass it through to another.  At one point there was a special space with a gate on either side of the border where 2 or 3 people from each side could come together and embrace.  For many years, Christians have met on both sides and even celebrated Holy Communion together. A border church.  

At first, the bread and the wine were passed back and forth through the fence.  Then that was prohibited. Before the park was closed because of the Covid-19 virus in March, the church set up a table on each side of the border and celebrated communion together, each on their own side, but together.

Today’s gospel reading has talk about a fence and gates and sheep pens and shepherds who open the gates.  the bible says, “the sheep hear [the shepherd’s] voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out…then…he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice.”  

I know some of you grew up on farms.  I’ll confess that I don’t have a whole lot of experience with animals and gates other than the two gates in my Chicago house that keep my dog in the backyard.  One I open to take the trash out to the alley and the other I open when we want to go into the front yard.  There are also some other choice dogs in the neighborhood that I’m happy are kept out of my yard and away from my dog. 

When we lived in Mexico, we lived in a gated neighborhood.  In that case, I wasn’t as concerned with keeping us on our side of the gate as I was with keeping unauthorized people out.  Today? In our covid world, we’v got all kinds of other gates and barriers out there.  There are the masks and gloves that we wear that keep the germs out, the stores that have created plexyglass barriers between customers and cashier.  When food or items are delivered, you can ask for people to just “leave it at the door” which serves as a barrier.  There’s the six feet of social distance that is also a barrier. 

Don’t get me wrong, I actually think that these practices are good and healthy right now, but we are taking great care through these barriers to keep ourselves and our germs apart.

In our scripture reading today, when Jesus is talking about sheep and gates and shepherds, he is talking to that man who was born blind who Jesus gave sight to.  I don’t know if you remember this story, but Pastor Kevin actually preached a wonderful sermon about this bible story for our first virtual service in March. 

There was a man who was born blind. He was ostracized, and sat and begged outside of the temple gates. Jesus found him, and made a paste out of some mud and his spit (do you remember this one?) and he puts it on the man’s eyes and suddenly the guy can see. After Jesus heals him, the guy is still barred from the community, and, Jesus goes and finds him again on the outskirts and brings him back again and restores him to the community.  Then, Jesus tells a story about how the people are the sheep and he tells them, “I am the gate.”

When I hear this story of Jesus, my mind goes to all those gates and barriers that divide and classify people. Then, I can’t help but think about ideas of gates that keep certain people in or out of the church.  I’m not necessarily referring to the famous “pearly gates.” While we often think of eternal life when we hear about gates--and yes, Jesus has most certainly prepared a place for us--we’re missing a big part of the story if we think that’s the whole story of the gate Jesus is talking about here .

But there have long been other kinds of gates that keep people in and out of the church. Depending on who you’re married to, maybe the church will let you through the gate, maybe not.  Depending on how you’re dressed or if you can “talk the church talk” maybe the church will let you in, or maybe you’ll feel so weird and awkward that it’s best to scoot out as fast as possible.  

Back to Friendship Park that sits between San Diego and Tijuana.  Today, those tall metal slats of the border fence are covered with a sort of metal grate so that people can’t pass things through the barrier.  After that border church celebrates communion, each on their own side of the fence, they share the peace. They do this by sticking their tiny pinkies—that’s all that will fit—through these metal grates and sharing the peace. Pinky peace. I can’t help but think that this is an image of what it means when Jesus says, “I am the gate.”

When Debie Thomas recently reflected on this pinky peace at this little border church, she wrote that this is an image of Jesus the gate and the:  “eager, loving hands reaching through small gaps in an old, steel barrier insistent sharing of song, prayer, bread, and wine across a bleak…border.”

Jesus isn’t the gate that separates us, condemns us, divides us or polarizes us.  Jesus is the door in the wall, the way in the wilderness, the tiny hole in the metal grate where a pinky fits through, that brings life in.

I don’t know what the walls are that you’re feeling in your life right now.  Maybe they’re walls of financial concerns, or health concerns. Maybe you’re exhausted with work and just feeling blocked or walled in. Maybe you feel surrounded by a wall of loneliness. Maybe it’s an angry wall built against folks who are irritating you for whatever reason. Maybe is a fortress constructed around our political opinion. Maybe the walls are just plain, dull weariness from being shut into our homes for weeks upon weeks—sometimes with people we really love and yet that are kind of making us crazy right now.

Whatever the walls are, I do know that the resurrected Jesus shows up wherever you are. (Like that time he showed up in that locked upper room where the disciples are gathered and afraid.) Jesus is the gate, the doorway where the light of the world reaches through to us even if it is at times only a pinky reaching through that little hole. 

Jesus the gate is in the bag of groceries that you gave or received from the food pantry. Jesus the gate is in the begonia that was left on your doorstep, the masks someone made for you, in the loving card that came in the mail. Jesus the gate is in the patient you lovingly cared for. He is in the beautiful hymn or song that you hear in worship that touches your soul. Jesus the gate is in the bread and wine that we will share in together shortly. 

Two nights ago, Jesus was a gate into my tired wall and I spent 20 wonderful minutes reading stories over zoom with some of the children from church in our pajamas and my soul was filled.

No matter the walls that surround us I know that Jesus is the gate and will call our name and like that pinky coming through the wall, we will hear his voice that leads us to green pastures and beside still waters, That voice will reach through and restores our soul, I am the gate, Jesus says.  I will find you. I’ve got you.   

There’s a lot of talk about the border right now that has to do with danger, crime and fear. One of the pastors of the border church in friendship park, John Fanestil, had a different take on it. He called the border “a place of encounter, exchange, friendship and fellowship.”  In other words, as Debie Thomas puts it, that little church makes it their practice to look for Jesus exactly in a place that is marked by a wall.  (They look for Jesus in a place where so many see only a wall or crime or danger!)   That is a spiritual practice to live into!

That’s how I pray for us to live: focusing our eyes on Jesus the gate who breaks through those walls, ushers unexpected grace into our lives, and leads us to bear the light of Christ to others. Blessed by the journey.