To an Unknown God

Acts 17: 16-34

16While Paul waited for them in Athens, he was deeply distressed to find that the city was flooded with idols. 17He began to interact with the Jews and Gentile God-Worshippers in the synagogue. He also addressed whoever happened to be in the marketplace each day. 18Certain Epicurean and Stoic philosophers engaged him in discussion too. Some said, "What an amateur! What's he trying to say?" Others remarked, "He seems to be a proclaimer of foreign gods." (They said this because he was preaching the good news about Jesus and the resurrection.) 19They took him into custody and brought him to the council on Mars Hill. "What is this new teaching? Can we learn what you are talking about? 20You've told us some strange things and we want to know what they mean." (21They said this because all Athenians as well as the foreigners who live in Athens used to spend their time doing nothing but talking about or listening to the newest thing.)

22Paul stood up in the middle of the council on Mars Hill and said, "People of Athens, I see that you are very religious in every way. 23As I was walking through town and carefully observing your objects of worship, I even found an altar with this inscription: 'To an unknown God.' What you worship as unknown, I now proclaim to you. 24God, who made the world and everything in it, is Lord of heaven and earth. He doesn't live in temples made with human hands, 25Nor is God served by human hands, as though he needed something, since he is the one who gives life, breath, and everything else. 26From one person God created every human nation to live on the whole earth, having determined their appointed times and the boundaries of their lands. 27God made the nations so they would seek him, perhaps even reach out to him and find him. In fact, God isn't far away from any of us. 28In God we live, move, and exist. As some of your own poets said, 'We are his offspring."
29Therefore, as God's offspring, we have no need to imagine that the divine being is like a gold, silver, or stone image made by human skill and thought. 30God overlooks ignorance of these things in times past, but now directs everyone everywhere to change their hearts and lives. 31This is because God has set a day when he intends to judge the world justly by a man he has appointed. God has given proof of this to everyone by raising him from the dead."

32When they heard about this resurrection from the dead, some began to ridicule Paul. However, others said, "We'll hear from you about this again." 33At that, Paul left the council. 34Some people joined him and came to believe, including Dionysius, a member of the council on Mars Hill, a woman named Damaris, and several others.

This is the Word of the LORD
Thanks be to God

The close of the Easter Season and the close of the Academic year often parallel each other, and this year is no exception. Around the country institutions of learning are celebrating the accomplishments of their graduates, faculty are awaiting their sabbatical leave even as they reach back to grade last term's papers and exams, and newly christened alumni listen with mildly bored expressions to commencement speakers who try in vain to teach one final lesson through the words of this poet or that philosopher.

And Paul, waiting for his companions, is deeply distressed to find the city of Athens flooded with idols.

Auditoriums swell with parental pride as the parade of graduates passes by to the tune of "Pomp and Circumstance." Churches hold special rituals to recognize the transitions that their youth are making from Youth Groups into whatever may be next. Students compare notes and final grades, celebrating triumph or commiserating about the teacher who "just didn't like me."

Paul talks to some philosophers who happen to be in the Athenian marketplace one day. They are unimpressed with his public speaking abilities, snickering to themselves even before he leaves earshot.

This time of year we see celebrations of graduations, as our brothers and sisters, children and grandchildren, and sometimes parents and grandparents, are honored as learned ones. This amazing mind which God has given us allows us to stretch ourselves and discover more of the world around us, reaching for new understandings of creation, and seeking to know more about its creator.

Paul is taken into custody and brought to the council on Mars Hill. He's interrogated about this new teaching. They've surmised he is a proclaimer of foreign gods, telling him "You've told us some strange things and we want to know what they mean."

The philosophers of Athens are the height of pluralism, and our scripture passage points to why: they were after the newest thing. Their learnedness stemmed not from a quest for truth, but from wanting to push the boundaries of what the next big thought might be.

But no matter how big the newest trend might be, God is still bigger, and for all their philosophy and culture, the Athenians don't have a handle on the one true God.

It's human nature to try and make sense of the world. Though we catch glimpses of God's activity in creation, or in a still small voice, we cannot truly know the God whom we seek by our own insight. Since we cannot hold onto the vast greatness of God we carve him up into little earthly tokens, grasping only what pieces appeal to us, making idolatry out of God's glory. Or, as Anne Lamott put it, "You can safely assume you've created God in your own image when it turns out he hates all the same people you do."

Once you've made that leap, as those who built the temples and idols that flooded the city of Athens, you're left with plenty of opportunities to pat yourself on the back for choosing the right combination of little gods. Then you can judge those who don't have their lives as together as you do. When they fail and you succeed, you can congratulate yourself for being so enlightened.

But Paul seems to have a different take on their broad swaths of enlightenment: "Paul stood up in the middle of the council on Mars Hill and said, 'People of Athens, I see that you are very religious in every way. As I was walking through town and carefully observing your objects of worship, I even found an altar with this inscription: 'To an Unknown God,' What you worship as unknown, I now proclaim to you.'"

Perhaps this altar to an unknown God was meant to be an expression of hospitality, inviting those whose worship practices were not represented elsewhere in the town. Perhaps it was a sign that their pantheon was constantly expanding, an adoptive tolerance of all new things. I tend to think it was a confession that for all their being "very religious in every way" something was still missing which their wisdom and philosophy could not fill. There's innate human desire to seek our creator, and Paul points out that "God made the nations so they would seek him," even though we are stumbling around in the dark on our own. The Athenians sense that their pantheon is just a bundle of idols, leaving them unsatisfied because it lacks truth.

Their quest for novelty thinly veils their longing for truth, as though their whole culture is saying "perhaps the next new thing will bring us wholeness." It's easy, in such an unfocused world as first-century Athens, to lose trust when each new "truth" fails in turn.

After all, in a universe that is constantly expanding, how can we really know anything? Science empirically describes the laws of nature with a little more precision each day, Arts intersect with the human experience in a few more places each moment, but they just give us facts and shadows, which can only give us passing excitement, rather than assure us of truth. In a world like first-century Athens, we can recognize the tendency toward abandoning the trust in an absolute truth. Perhaps there is only "talking about or listening to the newest thing." Are the objects of worship in the Athenian Pantheon, or even all the world's religions just different paths toward the same spiritual goal? Some universally accessible unknown god?

Nope.

This stranger, amateur, proclaimer-of-foreign-gods named Paul speaks into the maelstrom of our moral relativism with conviction that can only come with personal experiences of God: "What you worship as unknown, I now proclaim to you."

Because although humanity cannot grasp our infinite God on our own, God reveals himself to us. Scripture is one such revelation, preserved by the Holy Spirit in a form that is meant to be a unique and authoritative witness, through which God is revealed. The way we truly know God, though, is through Jesus Christ, the Word made Flesh.

The place where we know Jesus best is in the crucifixion and resurrection. At the crucifixion, God shows us that death, even death on a cross, is not enough to separate us from the God who loves us. Jesus Christ descends into total separation from God, crying out "My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?" But such a separation cannot stand, and the power of sin and death is defeated for all time. Nothing will separate God from those whom he loves, and "God has given proof of this to everyone," Paul says, "by raising [Jesus] from the dead." No matter what else may happen, we trust that God has us firmly in hand, and will not let us go.

In a world that is so frequently unfocused as our own, where science and art redefine the boundaries of human thought daily, it is a great comfort to me to know that God is wholly reliable. The truth of God is certain, even if our perception of the world is not.

Paul frames his testimony of the risen Christ as a call to repent, to "change our hearts and lives" in this translation. But when the truth is revealed, how can we not turn away from the idol distractions of the marketplaces of Athens and dedicate our lives to glorifying God and enjoying him forever? Christ has established a new model for what it means to be a human being, one grounded in obedient faith and relentless love for God and our fellow humans.

That's the next new thing that Paul offers Athens: a life liberated from slavery to sin, an opportunity to participate in the work of the Holy Spirit, and the assurance that we are redeemed by a God who loves us. It's a new life, but an ancient truth that was established from before the foundations of the world. It also means leaving behind the habits we built in "our ignorance of these things in times past." That's a tough thing for those who have benefited from those old habits to do. Chasing each new thing has made them famous, or wealthy, or powerful, the truth of God promises none of these things. As one commentator put it, "Novelty attracts their attention more quickly than truth."

While we are pursuing the new and shiny, the truth of God pursued us and claimed us as precious, and honored in God's sight. Where Paul saw an altar to an unknown God, we have come to know God through Christ. We can walk, therefore, in newness of life, instead of just chasing novelty.

So, in that newness of life, let us establish a pluralism that isn't based on the newest thing, but is grounded in truth. Let us build a tolerance that isn't based on permissiveness, but which flows through righteousness. We have a God who is known to us, we know that "In God we live, move, and exist", and we live in a world that is seeking God. If that's not a call to service, I don't know what is.

But something seems to be stopping us. It's possible that we don't entirely trust this new opportunity to participate in the work of the Holy Spirit. Maybe we are afraid that like Paul, we'll be mocked. Perhaps we're worried that if we share too much of this news we'll have to change ourselves. Compared to the cost of discipleship, it's certainly easier to dismiss others while celebrating our own achievement.

There's a lot of self-congratulation among the Athenian Philosophers who mock Paul for his simple mannerisms and strange ideas, and I think that is a temptation for the church as well. When we look at ourselves as the enlightened ones we look down on the "others," whomever they may be. Occasionally that means non-believers, but usually it means people whom we have decided worship in the wrong way, or who do church differently than we do. It's easy to say that this group is too quick to follow the new and trendy, or to say that group is too slow and stuck in their ways. Either way, we take a moment to celebrate that we are wiser and more aware of the "real world" than they.

By judging ourselves as superior to those on whom we shower our disdain, we are supplanting the true Judge - our Lord Jesus Christ - of whom we are called to be servants. Our task is not to judge the "unenlightened," but to love them, just as Christ first loved us.

Paul states that "God has set a day when he intends to judge the world justly by a man he has appointed." But that should not give us anxiety. The man whom God has appointed to judge the world justly is Christ, who died for us, who rose for us, who reigns in power over us, and who prays for us.

The same one who judges us is also the one in whom we have our redemption. Though it will not make sense to any of our philosophies born of human observation, Christ's resurrection shows the truth of who God is.

Because the truth of God cannot be contained. The Roman Empire tried to crucify the truth, but Christ lives through the resurrection. "When the council of Mars Hill heard about this resurrection from the dead, some of them began to ridiculed Paul", and Lord knows God's petty people have found innumerable ways to misrepresent the truth over our history. But we know God is still active in the world, sometimes through us, sometimes in spite of us. Through all the hurt in our world and in our church, we do not seek "an unknown god." We pray to the God who is revealed in the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Pentecost is almost upon us, Easter season is coming to a close. Like the graduates commencing with the next chapter of their lives, we have been given the knowledge we need to begin. The only degree we need was conferred at our baptism. We are called to serve not because it's the next new thing but because it's who we are. Our identity is deeply rooted in the identity of Jesus Christ, who shows us what it means to be a human being. It's not enough to just say it in our buildings, we've got to get out and listen to the ways that our people are seeking God, and to find ways tell to them the truth that has set us free.

Visible and Invisible

Colossians 1:11-20

11May you be strengthened through his glorious might so that you endure everything and have patience; 12and by giving thanks with joy to the Father. He made it so you could take part in the inheritance, in light granted to God’s holy people.13He rescued us from the control of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of the Son he loves. 14He set us free through the Son and forgave our sins.

15The Son is the image of the invisible God,

The one who is first over all creation.

16Because all things were created by him:

both in the heavens and on the earth,

the things that are visible and the things that are invisible.

Whether they are thrones or powers, or rulers or authorities,

all things were created through him and for him.

17He existed before all things,

and all things are held together in him.

18He is the head of the body, the church, who is the beginning,

the one who is firstborn from among the dead

so that he might occupy the first place in everything.

19Because all the fullness of God was pleased to live in him,

20and he reconciled all things to himself through him - whether things on earth on in the heavens. He brought peace through the blood of his cross.

This is the Word of the Lord

Thanks be to God

The last sunday of the church year, the last sunday before advent, is always dedicated to proclaiming the Reign of Christ. Our resurrected Lord rules all of creation from where he is seated on the right hand of the Father, from thence he shall come again to judge the quick and the dead.

So I set out at the beginning of the week excited for a sermon comparing the reign of Christ to all the things that his rule would replace. It was going to be full of hope for a brighter future, when we left our unjust systems behind. I was ready for a scripture passage all about how The Earth is the Lord’s, and all that is within it. It was going to be very Presbyterian in its emphasis on the loving and unyielding sovereignty of God.

There was going to be a parade celebrating the reign of Christ, people were going to cast ticker-tape from the windows of buildings, marching bands would play the great hymns of the faith, and people would wave banners all proclaiming the good news of God!

Then I turned to our Gospel passage this morning, where I read the following story. Please stand for the reading of the gospel.

Luke 23:33-43

33When they arrived at the place called The Skull, they crucified him, along with the criminals, one on his right and the other on his left. 34Jesus said, “Father, forgive them, they don’t know what they’re doing.” They drew lots for his clothing.

35The people were standing around watching, but the leaders sneered at him, saying, “He saved others. Let him save himself if he really is the Christ sent from God, the chosen one.”

36The soldiers also mocked him. They came up to him offering him sour wine 37and saying, “If you really are the king of the Jews, save yourself.” 38Above his head was a notice of the formal charge against him. It read “This is the king of the Jews.”

39One of the criminals hanging next to Jesus insulted him, “Aren’t you the Christ? Save yourself and us!”

40Responding, the other criminal spoke harshly to him, “Don’t you fear God, seeing that you’ve also been sentenced to die? 41We are rightly condemned, for we are receiving the appropriate sentence for what we did. But this man has done nothing wrong.” 42Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

43Jesus replied, “I assure you that today you will be with me in paradise.”

This is the Word of the Lord

Thanks be to God

You’re kidding me, right? I was all prepped for a high-energy-God-wins-in-the-end kind of sermon and I get the narrative of the crucifixion? I wanted banners and instead I got a sign that said “This is the king of the Jews. Where’s the part about God smiting the evil empire and setting up a kingdom which shall have no end? I wanted marching bands and instead I got jeering crowds. Where’s the redeemer who rescues his people with a strong arm? I wanted ticker tape and instead I got cast lots for his clothing. Where’s the end to all our suffering? Why did it end up at the place called The Skull?

My guess is that the disciples asked the very same questions. The inner circle whom we call the twelve have made themselves invisible during the night, and the people who stand around watching are no longer convinced that this is the heir to the throne of David.

It looks as if the Roman Empire has found another brigand. They’re going to make a visible example of him so that others will know not to claim the title of “King.” For only Caesar is a son of gods, and only Caesar rules in this empire.

Or so it seems.

Up to this point, everyone who has looked for the coming of the kingdom of God was watching for the same model of visible conquest as earthly rulers had used. But God is not the same kind of generic ruler we have come to expect. The reign of Christ is not defined by champions or armies. The reign of Christ is defined by the cross. “Because the fullness of God was please to live in him, and he reconciled all things to himself through him-- whether things on earth or in the heavens. He brought peace through the blood of his cross.”

I think it is certainly within God’s power to sweep any empire right off the map. But I don’t think God is interested in coercive, destructive, rule. God is much more interested in redemptive, creative, reign. The first is much easier than the second. Christ’s redemption over all creation comes through the cross so that the world might be forever changed, even the parts of the world that had opposed God at every turn. The reign of Christ is not visible in armies marching forth with religious symbols painted on their shields, it’s shown when at his death, the heir to all authority on heaven and earth intercedes in prayer, “Father, forgive them, they don’t know what they’re doing.”

We really don’t. We don’t know what we’re doing when we step out into this world and proclaim that the powers and principalities that we can see are not the final word, and yet work so hard to serve them. We don’t know what we’re doing when we buy into the stories that our culture tells us about what being blessed looks like. We don’t know what we’re doing when we say we believe, but live in a way that sows doubt. We don’t know what we’re doing, and so out of our own limited understanding of how the world works, we end up opposing God.

The reign of Christ claims even us. Even in our stubbornness, our limitedness, our ignorance, our sin, Christ still claims us. No matter how deeply we are stuck in our wrongness, God measures us according to Christ’s rightness. The reign of Christ doesn’t just upend our unjust systems because even those injustices we would rather stay invisible are subject to the redemptive reign of our Lord who “rescued us from the control of darkness and transferred us into the kingdom of the Son he loves. He set us free through the Son and forgave our sins.”

That, friends, is something worthy of gratitude on this Sunday before Thanksgiving. The reign of Christ, in his peculiar cruciform way of showing it, extends to all of creation, even to the unworthy bits.

Lucky for us. Because I’ve never met anyone who is worthy of the gifts God gives us. And it’s easy, I think, to get caught up in obsessing over all those components in our lives that we wish we could just make invisible and never have to deal with again.

In my work in the Chaplain’s office, I’m not only tasked with visiting patients and providing pastoral care to a broad swath of people. I’m also working in an educational setting to learn and explore my own pastoral identity, and to develop the skills to engage those around me not just on an intellectual level, but on an emotional level as well.

Much of that work involves exploring and confronting the parts of myself that I would rather keep hidden: my anger, my fear, my grief, the places in my own history where I have been hurt. As we approach the holidays and the gathering of families, it is all to easy to see the places where I have been wounded. It is tempting to compartmentalize the parts of myself that I’m not proud of, especially in a family where there is an unspoken expectation that, let’s be honest, I don’t always meet.

Now I’ve never felt unloved by any member of my family, and I certainly hope to make them as proud of me as I am of them. There’s a lot to celebrate in the rich history of Tabers, Potters, Shrewsburys, Barnettes, Barnards, and Boshells. The love shared in those groups, the talents, the triumphs, the traditions, are all part of what defines my family for me. Those parts are easy to identify as belong to, and extending from, the reign of Christ.

But there are also parts of my history that I would rather sweep under the rug, history of families broken up through divorce, or abuse, or of being ruled by addiction.

The reign of Christ extends to all of that as well. Even the parts of me that I don’t like belong to God. The reign of Christ preserves my whole self, even the parts of me that I would rather not let anybody see, and claims all of me as beloved by God, and wrapped in the righteousness of Christ until even the darkest parts of my soul are set free from the stain of sin.

All of this is possible through the reign of the Son who, at the place called The Skull, prayed for the forgiveness of those who mocked him, killed him, and dared him to try and save himself.

The Son is the image of the invisible God,

the one who is first over all creation.

Because all things were created by him:

both in the heavens and on the earth

the things that are visible and the things that are invisible.

T. S. Eliot’s poem “The Hollow Men” makes the claim that the world will end not with a bang, but a whimper. Christ, however, claims both as defining characteristics of his reign. The visible bang comes in the hymn of praise in our Colossians text, for all people can sing praises to their God, and to Christ who reigns on high. But in claiming the greatness of the hymn, Christ also chooses to define his reign by the whimper of a dying criminal, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Both the visible acts of praise and the nearly invisible cries of hope out of despair belong to the reign of Christ.

In our own time and place, we are approaching Thanksgiving, a time when we celebrate the things we are grateful for, lifting them up and choosing them as our organizing narrative throughout the darker months of the year. Immediately after Thanksgiving, we line up around the block for the chance to get the best deals on our holiday shopping. We make the news with our nuisance, a visible part of the Christmas season which we are approaching.

Yet on that same night, others will be lined up at the doors of soup kitchens and night shelters, hoping for the chance to get a meal this week, or that they might not have to sleep outside in the cold. They’re often overlooked, invisible to society for any number of reasons. It’s easy to judge them as being unwilling or unable to work their way out of their situation, or so say that we are not in a position to help, and maintain their invisibility.

On the other hand, a number of my friends from Seminary, and I’d imagine they’re not alone, would look at the commercial bent of the other lines, the one’s outside of department stores, and see those who have twisted their whole lives around saving a few bucks. They would judge those who would sacrifice time with family for a we dollars fewer spent on gifts for that same family.

I say that both sets of lines are full of people who are claimed by Christ. The homeless and the shoppers are all citizens of God’s kingdom, rescued from the darkness by Christ.

As our days grow steadily darker, and less of the day is visible, we celebrate the Reign of Christ at the end of the Christian Calendar. Advent begins next week. It’s a season of waiting, of longing, of preparing. Advent is a time when we look for the invisible, preparing for the easily overlooked birth of a peasant child whom we celebrate at Christmas. The invisible God made flesh, visible at last for those who know to look. Advent is a time of waiting for the invisible to become visible. The Christian calendar begins in Advent because we need to know that we start with waiting.

This week shows us what we are waiting for. The reign of Christ, who is heir among all creation, who’s reign is defined not by a visible sign that reads “This is the king of the Jews,” but by the invisible redemption that is already begun.

The things we celebrate, and the things we hide are all subject to the lordship of Christ. We can hide them from each other, because some of them cause friction within the community of faith. We cannot, however, hide them from God. The parts of ourselves we would show to the whole world belong to God, the parts of our society we would make visible to all who look also belong to God. But in those moments when we are ashamed, either of part of ourselves or on behalf of our whole community, God claims those as well. The Reign of Christ is not about discarding the bad and uplifting the good, it’s about the reality that all of creation, both in the heavens and on the earth,

the things that are visible and invisible, Whether they are thrones or powers, or rulers or authorities, all things were created through Christ and for Christ.

And Christ who reigns loves us.

Continue

Continue from Joseph Taber on Vimeo.

Haggai 2:1-9
In the second year of King Darius, in the seventh month, on the twenty-first day of the month, the word of the Lord came by the prophet Haggai, saying: 2Speak now to Zerubbabel son of Shealtiel, governor of Judah, and to Joshua son of Jehozadak, the high priest, and to the remnant of the people, and say,
3Who is left among you that saw this house in its former glory?
How does it look to you now? Is it not in your sight as nothing?
4Yet now take courage, O Zerubbabel, says the Lord;
take courage, O Joshua, son of Jehozadak, the high priest;
take courage, all you people of the land, says the Lord;
work, for I am with you, says the Lord of hosts,
 5according to the promise that I made you when you came out of Egypt.
My spirit abides among you; do not fear.
6For thus says the Lord of hosts:
Once again, in a little while,
I will shake the heavens and the earth and the sea and the dry land;
7and I will shake all the nations,
so that the treasure of all nations shall come,
and I will fill this house with splendor,
says the Lord of hosts.
8The silver is mine, and the gold is mine, says the Lord of hosts.
9The latter splendor of this house shall be greater than the former,
says the Lord of hosts;
and in this place I will give prosperity,
says the Lord of hosts.

Luke:20:27-38
27Some Sadducees, those who say there is no resurrection, came to him 28and asked him a question, “Teacher, Moses wrote for us that if a man’s brother dies, leaving a wife but no children, the man shall marry the widow and raise up children for his brother. 29Now there were seven brothers; the first married, and died childless; 30then the second 31and the third married her, and so in the same way all seven died childless. 32Finally the woman also died. 33In the resurrection, therefore, whose wife will the woman be? For the seven had married her.” 34Jesus said to them, “Those who belong to this age marry and are given in marriage; 35but those who are considered worthy of a place in that age and in the resurrection from the dead neither marry nor are given in marriage. 36Indeed they cannot die anymore, because they are like angels and are children of God, being children of the resurrection. 37And the fact that the dead are raised Moses himself showed, in the story about the bush, where he speaks of the Lord as the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob. 38Now he is God not of the dead, but of the living; for to him all of them are alive.”

This is the Word of the Lord
Thanks be to God

Over the last several years, I've noticed something peculiar about American culture. We are totally youth obsessed. We spend untold amounts of time and money to avoid the reality of our own aging. Maybe it’s because we remember the past more fondly than we read the present. Maybe we look towards the former glory of our houses because we have become discouraged with the work required to maintain them, to rebuild time after time.

I think that's because, at some level, we know that we have a shelf life. We are limited both in our ability and in our time. Our limits terrify us, the death and loss we experience during our lives are so far beyond even the illusion of our control that we reach into the illusion of eternal youth to avoid dealing with the most terrifying events in our lives. We are consistently taught, as American Christians, that grief and fear are “bad” emotions, and should be treated as though something is broken in our minds.

But the human condition is a frightening one, throughout our lives, we have to deal with loss, with grief, with pain, much of the time through no fault of our own. In my work at the hospital, even the most gifted doctors much eventually face that everything they do is just a stall tactic. Avoidance of these frightening realities may be easier than dealing with them, but pretending they don’t exist doesn’t solve them, and I’m not convinced it actually makes it more bearable.

I think that when we run as hard as we do from the things that frighten us, it makes us think that we have to bear them alone when they do finally catch up to us. When we can no longer avoid the grief over the loss of a dear friend or relative, we feel like we cannot reach out to anyone else because no one else is grieving in the ways we are. By avoiding them, we are allowing them to fester, merely so that we can keep up the cultural illusion that we are not susceptible to those dark emotions.

Death is a reality, and an eventuality, for us all. And that is a terrifying prospect, so much so that we go to great lengths to avoid even the appearance of approaching that end. Searching for a way to increase our reach into the future, straining for something beyond the scope of our life on this planet. We search for eternal youth, for a measure of immortality, the idea that our deaths are only in part.

The Christian claim is not one of immortality, it is of resurrection. Because we will all face the trauma of loss and death. If we trust a continuity based on our own abilities, we will find ourselves paralyzed in the face of the limits of our imagination.

The prophet Haggai finds himself in that position. He is among the Jews who return to the promised land after what's called the Babylonian captivity. It's one of the pivotal moments in scripture, for before this time the understanding of God centered around the protection of the law, the covenant, and above all the holy city of Jerusalem which housed the temple. God was one who preserved the life of his people.

But the temple has been destroyed, the people of the land have been carried off to a foreign country, away from their ancestral inheritance. Though some of the people have survived, and have been allowed to return home, they have lived through a trauma so severe that American culture has no common frame of reference. Everything they understood about reality, about their identity, about their God, is dead.

But the covenant is not one of immortality, but of resurrection. God speaks to their spiritual death:
"Who is left among you that saw this house in its former glory?
How does it look to you now? Is it not in your sight as nothing?"

The temple-centered religious practices are dead. But God is not. Though lives have been lost, though faith has been lost, the God of their covenant is working on their resurrection, and encourages them to rebuild, not because they are invulnerable to another conquest, but because not even death can separate us from the love of God. It is not the glory of the temple that matters, it is the glory of God. Though the temple may be lost, the presence of the LORD is still among us. So God tells us to not be paralyzed by our fear that even the greatest of our works will fade in time.

"Take courage, all you people of the land, says the Lord;
Work, for I am with you, says the Lord of hosts."
It is easy to become discouraged when they look around and see the limitation of their humanity, and the fruits it has borne for them. There is much to fear, Haggai's congregation do not have a King of the line of David on the throne, they have a governor appointed by their captors. They have a high priest, but no place for him to carry out his duties. The work of their hands has been laid waste with fire and sword at the hands of the Babylonian army. Their exile has been real, so have the deaths that they have witnessed on their journey.

Just so our own journeys take to places we would not choose to go. Sometimes they take us to a sports field, where we begin to realize that our bodies can no longer do what we ask of them. Sometimes they take us to a rite of passage and we are confronted with the vision that the one who we are so accustomed to seeing as a child has become an adult, and our relationship has irrevocably changed. Sometimes they take us to the edge of a hospital bed, where we hear the doctor say words that we cannot accept, news of finality, of saying goodbye instead of new greetings.

The theoretical Widow in our gospel passage has found that grief time and time again, having buried seven husbands. But it’s not her grief that concerns the Sadducees in our gospel passage this morning. These learned men, wealthy and powerful, pose the question as a trap, to get Jesus to admit that the resurrection isn’t logical.

Well they’re right, it’s not.

Where’s the logic in the grief of a seven-fold widow being transformed to songs of praise? Where’s the logic in a barren mother being called a child of the resurrection? Where’s the logic in a conquered people reinvesting in a temple to a God who hadn’t prevented disaster?

Where’s the logic in a God who refuses to give up on us when we so consistently abandon God? Where’s the logic in an all-powerful God who goes to death, even death on a cross?

The resurrection is not about logic, it’s about the greatness of God, who can triumph even over the fact of death.

God’s covenant is not one of immortality, it’s one of resurrection. Where there once was only death, now there is life, and life abundant. For God is not of the dead, but of the living. John Donne wrote that “All [humanity] is of one author and one volume, and when one [person] dies, a chapter is not torn out of the book, but translated into a better language; and every chapter must be so translated.” And as we wait for our own translation, we will lose access to friends and family who are taken by death before us. That loss is real, and deserves to be mourned.

We confess that Christ was crucified, died, and was buried. But through the loving power of our God, death was not the end of his story, and it’s not the end of ours. Because we are witnesses to resurrection: the creation of life where there was only death. That resurrected life will be one of greater glory than we can now imagine.

The Sadducees assumed that in the resurrection, everything would be back to the life they understood, the life that had enriched them, that they understood and could work within, only with everybody alive again.

But the God who writes and rewrites the laws of nature does not just raised us from the dead, we are reformed in this resurrection. Not just humanity either, all of creation is redeemed through the death and resurrection of Christ, that is the new form of humanity. “For thus says the Lord of hosts: Once again, in a little while, I will shake the heavens and the earth and the sea and the dry land; ...The latter splendor of this house shall be greater than the former, says the Lord of hosts.”

The resurrected life is one where we dine with our Lord, no longer held back by our fears and grief, but loved through them. Our fears are redeemed to joy, our grief to gratitude, our despair to faith. Because the power of the God of resurrection makes it so.

Because the God who loves us enough to become a human, with all of our limits, like us in every respect except sin, will let neither sin nor death separate us from God. The God whose sovereignty speaks into being things which do not exist declares us to be children of the resurrection.

So the widow no longer needs to be defined by her ability to bear children and continue the family line. The sinner no longer needs to be cast out for his uncleanness. The wealthy businessman no longer needs to focus on acquiring enough stuff to pass on his legacy. The temple no longer needs to compare itself to a faded memory of its own glory. The church elder no longer needs to hold up the church on his own, fearing that if he steps away that no one will fill the void.

Now they are all called children of the resurrection, worshipping God in spirit and in truth, not in a temple or church.

“So then, brothers and sisters, stand firm and hold fast to the traditions that you were taught by us, either by word of mouth or by our letter.” Because ours is a tradition not of immortality, but of resurrection. Our tradition says that death may be more powerful than we are, but our God is more powerful than death by far. We will grieve those we have lost, and we will grieve for ourselves when we lose parts of ourselves. When our time comes, others will grieve for us as well.

But that grief is not the end of our story, because God’s story continues forever, and God’s love for us is such that he wants us to be a continual part of that story. A story of creation, resurrection, and everlasting praise.