We recently hired a new
director of maintenance, Steve Velleman (which is very good news, by the way…
he starts on Monday). It’s of vital
importance that he never hears the story I’m about to tell you. This isn’t like a Messianic secret thing,
where you go and tell the whole village anyway, seriously… he can’t know
this. We have various banners that are
hung in this church for various seasons and Steve’s predecessor, Kevin, would
put these up on his own. What Kevin
never knew, and Steve can never know, is that at the last parish where I was a
regular parishioner before I entered seminary, I was on the banner hanging
team. I am happily retired from that, I
desire no comebacks. I had two partners
in crime. One was the designer and maker
of the banners, who would stand back and tell me if they were hanging
straight. The other was an ex-Marine who
held the base of the ladder for me, while I would climb up holding the
banner. Now, of course, the ladder
couldn’t go right in front of the hook, it has to go off to the side a
little. So, once I’d gotten to the top, I
would have to stretch out, sometimes almost straining, always leaning some, and
reach, to hook the banner on, and then return a few times because it apparently
was never quite straight. You can see
why I retired. Now, I don’t think of
myself as particularly weak, but I was pretty clearly less strong than Ron at
the bottom holding my ladder, and that’s why we divided the tasks the way we
did. I could only dare to reach so far
out, because I knew that Ron only needed to use a tiny fraction of his strength
for me to be completely securely held. I
was rooted enough to reach out.
That’s
what Jesus did for his apostles, and does for us. In Acts, we read of his commission of them as
his witnesses. Jesus the prophet greater
than all prophets not just commissions them but, with divine surety, predicts
the success of their mission, to bear witness to him to the ends of the
earth. They are made his witnesses, and
that admits of two readings both of which are important to grasp. Firstly, and most obviously, they are his
witnesses in that they bear witness to him, to the compassionate Messiah who in
dying destroyed death, in rising restored us to life and in his ascension
reassured us that human flesh can ascend and dwell forever with His Father,
made Our Father in baptism. But secondly,
and just as importantly, they are his witnesses in the sense that they are
his. He claims them, he empowers them
through His Spirit, he shares his life with them, embraces them. In him, they are completely securely held. They are rooted enough; they can reach out.
In the
Gospel, we read of a bunch of disciples who respond connaturally to the
appearance of Christ with worship. They get
that he is worthy of all praise. But,
they still doubt. They simply can’t
comprehend a love so intense, so powerful, that not even death could keep the
lover from his beloved, not his death, from which he rose, not our death, from
which he’ll raise us. They doubt, and
that’s not an intellectual skepticism, but a nervous wavering. One of the most important words of this
gospel, so often rushed over to get to other, also important words, is “approached.” Jesus approached them. He doesn’t remain distant. Jesus approaches his nervous wavering
Church. Jesus never tires of approaching
us when we waver. And he commissions
still. He doesn’t commission perfect
humans, or angels, but nervous wavering worshipers: that’s who he calls to make
God known, loved and served. He approaches,
that we might not waver in trusting ourselves to be completely held; to be
rooted enough that we can reach out.
The
earthly Jesus had limited availability: you only got to see him if you were in
the right place in Palestine at the right time for a thirty-three year or so span. Our Risen, Ascended Lord is present through
his witnesses in the Spirit, available to all.
Available to as many as we dare to reach out to. We are completely held; rooted enough that we
can reach out.
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