Dayenu! It would have been enough.

God Gives More than Enough

It is the “first day of the week” (John 20:19), the day of the new creation, but to those locked away in the upper room in fear, the world is as it always has been. So entrenched are they in the ways of grief and guilt that the Risen One in their midst needs to offer his life-giving invitation twice: “Peace be with you.” The logic of the new age is peace, not retribution; forgiveness, not vengeance. With the invitation to new life comes also the means: the gift of the Holy Spirit, breathed upon them and within them. Just as the Father sent Jesus into the world, so now are these disciples sent as witnesses to God’s saving work.

Pentecost is therefore the crowning achievement of the Jesus story. Now, more than ever, these huddled disciples would have just cause to sing the “Dayenu” (“It would have been enough”) verses from the Passover seder meal, but revised: It would have been enough for the Word and wisdom of God to have been born in the flesh . . . Dayenu! It would have been enough for the Word to grow to adulthood and share his stunning parables about God’s gracious activity in the world . . . Dayenu! It would have been enough for this Word to say to his enemies, “Father, forgive them” . . . Dayenu! It would have been enough for this Word to have died on a cross for us . . . Dayenu! It would have been enough that he rose again in blessing, not vengeance . . . Dayenu! But now, beyond what we would even expect—the Word becomes our word and it is written on our hearts at Pentecost . . . Dayenu! It is enough, and more than enough to enflame our ministry of reconciliation in a world in need of a healing word.

Stay

Thursday was Ascension Day. This poem, while appropriate for Ascension, is also very apropos for what we are experiencing in this pandemic world we now live.

A Blessing for Ascension Day

I know how your mind
rushes ahead
trying to fathom
what could follow this.
What will you do,
where will you go,
how will you live?

You will want
to outrun the grief.
You will want
to keep turning toward
the horizon,
watching for what was lost
to come back,
to return to you
and never leave again.

For now
hear me when I say
all you need to do
is to still yourself
is to turn toward one another
is to stay.

Wait
and see what comes
to fill
the gaping hole
in your chest.
Wait with your hands open
to receive what could never come
except to what is empty
and hollow.

You cannot know it now,
cannot even imagine
what lies ahead,
but I tell you
the day is coming
when breath will
fill your lungs
as it never has before
and with your own ears
you will hear words
coming to you new
and startling.
You will dream dreams
and you will see the world
ablaze with blessing.

Wait for it.
Still yourself.
Stay.

—Jan Richardson

This blessing appears in Jan’s book The Cure for Sorrow: A Book of Blessings for Times of Grief. It appears also in her book Circle of Grace: A Book of Blessings for the Seasons.

This was found on http://paintedprayerbook.com/2013/05/05/ascensioneaster-7-stay/

Not Orphaned

“I will not leave you orphaned,” Jesus promises us in today’s gospel. God is not some ruthless heavenly spectator judging us as on reality television, relishing our failures, wishing to exchange us for a better or more attractive child, no curmudgeonly “Daddy Warbucks” in the sky. Rather, God comes to love us in Jesus, singularly loving and accepting, seeking our trust, promising to be ever-present with us in the Holy Spirit. This Holy Advocate moves us even when we don’t recognize its power, even when it seems “an unknown God” (Acts 17:23). Though we might battle an elemental loneliness, we have not been abandoned.

Many life experiences can leave us feeling orphaned or abandoned. Family can ease that feeling but also magnify it if our family relationships are strained or if our families live far away. [...] The Internet, webcams, Skype, [Zoom], and social networking can link people across the miles but can further aggravate loneliness and isolation when these substitute for real intimacy in our highly connected world. How do we experience this loneliness and this longing for home and belonging? How does Jesus’ promise that he will not leave us orphaned speak to these real-life concerns?

When Jesus makes this string of promises in John 14, saying that he will remain with us in the Holy Spirit as our Advocate, it’s hard to envision how this support comes to us sometimes. When we do not get to see or hear those we love, the simple gifts Jesus offers in body and blood, bread and wine shared with real warm neighbors have great power. Even when life keeps delivering bad news about how far apart we are from another, how broken our relationships are, “I will not leave you orphaned” is the godly reassurance that we are not alone.

from Sundays and Seasons

Along the Way

The underground railroad that saved the lives of countless enslaved husbands and mothers and babies tortured by America’s original sin of slavery depended upon safe refuge along the journey to freedom—a place prepared.

Through desert dangers where thieves waited and beasts preyed in the night, weary travelers along the Silk Road took restful shelter in inns along their way—a place prepared.

From the dense streets of Kolkata, India, where poverty’s scourges lie thick over crowds of people, and disease lingers in the sluggish air, humble compassion clad in white and blue saris gathers the wretched into a home for the destitute and dying—a place prepared.

Around the globe, in the midst of despair, people fleeing from war die in the sea, are lost in the desert, swarm at borders, scale walls, weep at fences, hang on trains, trudge every landscape imaginable hoping for a home at the end of a trail—a place prepared.

Jesus promised the most remarkable thing to his disciples: “I go to prepare a place for you” (John 14:2). And they asked, “Where? We don’t understand! Show us!” Jesus’ answer to his disciples does not offer a spiritualized road to heaven or a settled spot in Galilee, but it does offer all that matters: “I am the way, and the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). Jesus is the destination and the path. There is a refuge—a place prepared—in his love. The home of peace and safety that we all long for is found in Jesus. Jesus is with us all along the roads, streets, and alleyways, in places unseen and unknown. Jesus is with us, goes before us to prepare the place, and shows us the way.

From Sundays and Seasons

I am the Gate

As he prepared to return home near the end of three years in a state prison, the man wrote to the church where, before his arrest, he had worshiped, attended Bible study, and played guitar in the music program. While an inmate, he went to chapel and showed up at Bible study on a regular basis. He was ready and hopeful to return to his faith community. Days before his release, he received a letter from the church: “We cannot allow you to fellowship with us until our mission committee meets to decide whether to admit you.”

“I am the gate,” says Jesus, the shepherd and the bringer of life. Jesus is the one who opens the way. For all who suffer rejection—barred from entrance and denied community because of who they are, how they behave, where they come from, what they’ve done, how they look, or what they believe—it is shocking to hear Jesus say, “I am the gate, and I came to bring abundant life to all my sheep.” We may think, Really? Me? Can it be so?

To the religious leaders who saw themselves as gatekeepers—the deniers and allowers, the definers and approvers, the deciders and assigners—Jesus voiced his graced rebuke: “No! I am the gate, and the gate is open. All with ears listening and hearts aching for mercy, come this way. Enough of those who kill your hope, destroy your spirit, steal your worth! Thieves and bandits they are, in righteous disguise.”

And to the church, Jesus voices this nonnegotiable word: “I am the gate. The gate is open, bringing goodness and mercy to all. There are no exceptions and no exclusions. So, my sheep, pour my wine, break my bread, splash my water, serve my meal, spend my life, be my body, welcome all as my own. The gate is open.”

The message of the Gospel for the Fourth Sunday of Easter

From Sundays and Seasons