Proper 9: The YOKE

 

Proper 9 

The Sunday closest to July 6

O God, you have taught us to keep all your commandments by loving you and our neighbor: Grant us the grace of your Holy Spirit, that we may be devoted to you with our whole heart, and united to one another with pure affection; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the
Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Preface of the Lord's Day

Give ear O heavens and I will speak; let the earth hear the words of my mouth, 

for I will proclaim the Name of the Lord, and ascribe greatness to our God.

What is the Good News for us today? What is the Gospel? What do we want to hear, and what does God want us to hear?

I ask, because what we want to hear and what we NEED to hear are sometimes two different things.

Jesus points that out to us in the Gospel reading for today. 

Jesus is comparing and contrasting the ministries of John the Baptist and himself in Chapter 11 (of Matthew’s Gospel). 

John is in prison and has sent his disciples to Jesus to ask him, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?”

Jesus responds in code, because when times are dangerous, people talk in code.

Like in the days of the catacombs, Christians would have to sometimes meet in secret. They would mark the trail with a little fish symbol (called an Ichthus – Greek for fish). 

It was Christian graffiti and it pointed folks to a safe place. The fish symbol referred people to that big miracle where Jesus fed the 5,000 with a few loaves and fishes. The word ICHTHUS was also handy in that it was an acrostic made up of the letters: Iesus Christos Theou Huios Soter (Jesus Christ, Son of God, Savior).

So when John’s disciples visit Jesus, they ask him if he’s the Messiah or if they should look for another, and Jesus responds by pointing them to Isaiah (35:5-6): 

“Go and tell John what you hear and see: 

the blind receive their sight,

The lame walk, 

Those with skin disease are made clean,

The deaf hear,

The dead are raised,

And the poor have good news brought to them.

Blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me.”

Do you see what’s missing?

Sometimes it’s what you don’t see: that’s the message.

Jesus leaves out a key line: “Release to the captives.”

What John wants to know – one of the reasons, if not the main reason – John sends his disciples to Jesus is to ask his cousin, “Are you going to set me free?” 

That’s in the Messiah Job Description, and Jesus says, 

“No offense, but no.”

When John’s disciples leave, Jesus wants to make it clear that he’s not abandoning John because of anything John has done or failed to do.

“Of all the prophets throughout the history of our people, there have been none greater than John the Baptist. But from his heyday until now, understand this: the kingdom of heaven has suffered violence, and the violent take it by force. Torah and Prophets have guided you until now, but if you’re willing to listen carefully,  he (John) is Elijah who was to come.” (11:7-15 paraphrased).

There’s that coded language. Elijah, who ascended into heaven in that fiery chariot, was expected to return and say, “Here! Here he is! Here’s the Messiah! Here’s the Savior. Him! Him! Look, look, look!!!”

So Jesus looks at the crowd and says, “Let those with ears, listen and hear what I’m saying.” Wink. wink.

So that’s our context. That’s where the Gospel reading for today picks up. Jesus has been comparing his ministry with his cousin’s ministry and all that entails and he says, 

“You know, the problem with this generation, the problem with you folks is you’re never satisfied. You’re like little children down in the town square teasing one another: ‘We played the flute for you, but you didn’t dance.’ 

“‘Oh yeah, well we cried, and you didn’t mourn.’

“You know,” Jesus continues, “John was an ascetic. His diet consisted of honey-roasted locusts and water, and you thought he was insane, so you ignored all his talk of hell-fire and damnation and your need to stop the violence. The Son of Man comes talking about a kingdom of diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (or at least that’s how he might put it today), and yet you think he’s a drunken low-life!

“Let me answer this way: Wisdom is vindicated by her deeds.”

In other words, it’s not what you think that matters. It’s what you see happening. People are seeing God at work in their midst. John says, “Change, for God loves you too much to leave you the way you are; so change, for heaven’s sake.” 

Jesus says, “Come, for God loves you too much to leave you where you are; so come, for heaven’s sake.”

That’s the good news. God believes we can change. God wants us to come close. But how do we do that? That’s the question we wrestle with today.

Saint Paul understands what we’re up against.

He shares some of his own life story. He complains he does things he knows he shouldn’t and fails to do things he knows he should. He knows it, and he says there is something all twisted up inside that makes him that way. He calls it SIN, an umbrella term for everything that alienates us from God, our neighbor, and our very own selves.

He’s talking about that twisted little something inside that tells us that little things don’t matter, or that other people think a certain way and act like that too; if it’s OK for them, it’s OK for us. 

But Capital S SIN isn’t that little devil on one shoulder debating with the little angel sitting on the other shoulder. 

It’s just the capacity to know what we should do, and not doing it. Or knowing what we shouldn’t do, and doing it anyway because, frankly, that’s what we really want to do. It’s that thing inside that says, “There is a God, and I am he or she!”

Paul says, “I know these impulses are at war within me, and I know that I am a prisoner of war. I know it is a war I cannot win, because I haven’t got it within me to fight and win. I’ve got a traitor in my ranks. I am my own worst enemy. But thank God, I do have a way out under the fence and beyond the concertina wire. Jesus is my tunnel. Jesus is my shovel and my wire-cutters.”

This takes us back to the Gospel. How is Jesus our tunnel, our escape hatch, our shovel, our wire-cutters?

“Come unto me all you who travail and are heavy laden, and I will refresh you.”

Do you remember that? That was the first of the Comfortable Words that followed the confession and led up to the Offertory before Communion back in the olden days. It was taken from today’s passage:

Hear the Word of God to all who truly turn to him.

Come unto me, all you who travail and are heavy laden, and
I will refresh you.    Matthew 11:28

God so loved the world, that he gave his only-begotten Son,
to the end that all that believe in him should not perish, but
have everlasting life.    John 3:16

This is a true saying, and worthy of [all] men to be received,
that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners.
1 Timothy 1:15

If any man [one] sin, we have an Advocate with the Father, Jesus
Christ the righteous; and he is the perfect offering for our
sins, and not for ours only, but for the sins of the whole
world.    1 John 2:1-2

They’re called comfortable words, not because they’re easy-chair comfortable. The word “comfort” means “easy” today, but the prayer-book understanding of the word means “with strength” – com (with) forte (stronghold). 

It’s like the scene in The Lord of the Rings when the people flee the invaders and fall back into Helm’s Deep. Things look grim, but the high solid walls of Helm’s Deep have never failed to protect them. 

Many times in life we feel we are being overwhelmed by the world around us. The political landscape is a nightmare. The economy and the national debt threatens to crush us. Threats to Social Security and healthcare are taking a beating. Alliances that have kept the world safe for 75 years are coming unglued. 

Life at home has its own challenges. We’re getting older. The things we used to do without a second thought are becoming more and more of a challenge, but we carry on. We keep on keeping on as hippies of yore used to say.

All will be well, says the Lord.

The other day I stepped out of the car when I went to Haggens to pick up some groceries and I looked down and saw a penny lying there on the ground. A penney. They’re so worthless the government has stopped making them. I’m 75. My back and knees are shot. I confess I used to always genuflect fully when approaching the Altar before Mass. 

It was a way of bringing my body into line with the spirit, reminding me I am here to worship; I’m here to serve.

Well, I don’t genuflect any more, but I DID bend down and pick up that penney. And I thought, I’ll bend down for a Lincoln copper, but not for God and worship. That’s sad.

So, I brought that coin and tossed it into the plate this morning when I got here. I may not be able to genuflect without falling over, but I’ll do what I can do, because that’s all God asks of me and of us. 

“Ceremony is important,” says God, “but do what you can, and leave the rest to ME.”

Jesus says, “Come. I know you’re anxious, tired, loaded down with the cares of the world. Come here; you’ll find a place of rest, peace, shalom, and comfort.”

We aren’t farmers. Most of us don’t have teams of oxen to plow our fields. But Jesus was a master carpenter, and he knew a thing or two about crafting yokes to help distribute the power of the oxen.

Jesus says, “Come here. Stand by my side. Walk with me. Pull with me. Work with me. You’ll learn the going will be easier, and gentler, and kinder, and the work will be done with more joy, because we’ll be pulling together.”

Jesus says we don’t have to carry our burdens alone. Not the burdens of our past. Not the burdens of the future. Just take care of what’s in front of us today, and leave the rest to God, and God will provide the rest we need.

God cries with us. God dances with us. God delights in us.

We may think the yoke’s on us, but really, the yoke’s on God.

Amen.

Delivered by the Rev. Keith Axberg to the congregation of Christ Church (Anacortes, WA) July 5, 2026

Meditating on Proper 9: United with Pure Affection

 

Proper 9    

The Sunday closest to July 6

O God, you have taught us to keep all your commandments by loving you and our neighbor: Grant us the grace of your Holy Spirit, that we may be devoted to you with our whole heart, and united to one another with pure affection; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the
Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Preface of the Lord's Day

Back in the 1920s (long before even I was born), it wasn’t unusual to be watching a movie and noting that whenever someone bumped into someone else or did something untoward, the protagonist (or some movie extra in the film) would shout, “Hey, what’s the big idea?” They usually said it loudly and obnoxiously, partly to signal irritation, and partially to be picked up by microphones that weren’t all that good when the “talkies” were first being produced. 

That phrase (What’s the big idea?) morphed over time and became less a battle cry and more of an advertiser’s maxim: What’s the Big Idea? In other words, what’s the focus? What’s it all about? How do we summarize what all of these little parts add up to? 

What’s the Big Idea for the church? What’s the Big Idea for you? What’s the Big Idea for creation?

“(Y)ou have taught us to (1) keep all your commandments by (2) loving you and our neighbor.” We might be tempted to stop here and declare: The Big Idea is to love God and our neighbor. That’s not wrong, but neither is it correct, for it is incomplete. Remember how in school it wasn’t enough to have the right answer in a test or homework assignment; we also had to “show our work.” The teacher wants to know, How did you get to that answer? How do I know you didn’t simply copy it off someone else’s test?

So if we are to love God and neighbor – the “apparent” Big Idea – we have to take the next step and show our work. We ask God to fill us with the Holy Spirit SO THAT we can (actually) be devoted to God with our whole heart, AND united to one another with “pure” affection. Ugh! 

I don’t mind letting God have one of my ventricles, but my WHOLE heart? I don’t mind Jesus living in my heart, but he wants the body and brain, too? I don’t mind Jesus forgiving MY sins, but the sins of the WHOLE world, too? Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat! 

So the Big Idea is to do more than speak platitudes with the mouth. It’s to do more than spend an hour each week with like-minded souls getting fired up for the week ahead, or healed up from the week past. The Big Idea is to take God seriously, engaging God totally, and being more than “nice” with people we meet; we’re called to approach them with pure affection.

That may well require more of me than what I’ve got to give, but that’s OK, because the Big Idea assures us that while we may not be able to live this out in our lives under our own steam (of which a lukewarm faith really doesn’t produce much), but under the power and grace of One who can.

It’s not enough that we will “try” to keep God’s commands, and “try” to love God, and “try” to love our neighbor, but we ask God to give us the power to do so. Why?

Because God is devoted thoroughly to us. 

I will note something else, too. I like how the prayer refers to “affection” rather than love. The two are similar, but not identical. Affection affirms an appreciation for another that love may not actually convey. I looked out my window when I heard a strange noise. It was a neighbor lad who rides his powered scooter up and down our street all the time. I do not know him except just to see him scoot by periodically, but my affection towards him is real. He reminds me of when I was his age, riding my bicycle throughout the neighborhoods. So when this young man crashed headlong onto the roadway, several neighbors and I rushed out to see what we could do. 

Not once did anyone think to scold him for riding without a helmet, kneepads, or bubble wrap. One neighbor held him gently, comforting him in his pain. Another got some cool, wet paper towels to stop the bleeding. Another retrieved his scooter from the roadway so it wouldn’t get run over by cars that too often race around the corner. Others loaned him their cellphone so he could call home. Neighbors walked him home when he was ready, and loaded his scooter into his mother’s car when she returned with him to collect it.

Pure affection. Nothing splashy. Just people being kind, gentle, helpful and, when push comes to shove, divine in their response, just as we would expect as God answers these prayers of ours with the grace of God’s holy Spirit. That is the sort of affection that unites us to God and one another. 

 

The PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE

A Meditation on a Deviation

"I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation (under God), indivisible, with liberty and justice for all." 

I like the Pledge of Allegiance the way it is (preferring it without the “under God” because that wasn’t there in its original form). It’s short, simple, direct, and outlines the most basic fundamentals of what this country is about. I do have some qualms (as a Christian) of pledging my allegiance to either a country or flag because my religion warns me to guard against idolatry, but as long as the nation seeks unity and works for “liberty and justice for all,” I can live with that little bit of heresy.

There is another pledge at work, though, that is at cross purposes with our Pledge of Allegiance. It is antithetical to principles of liberty and justice, and promotes division in place of unity. It goes something like this:

“I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America (actually, let’s add a blue stripe so white folks who kneel on the necks of brown folks, and who gun down the innocent will know we have their backs),

and to the Republic for which it stands (but really, we mean Republicans and MAGAniacs whereby the only people and states who count have bent the knee to the only person of color they obey (Orange),

one Nation (Oh hell no .. only states – specifically red states, especially gerrymandered red states and the esteemed leader so that “one Nation” really refers to and is embodied by the divinely inspired unitary Executive),

under God (let’s be clear, we mean the right wing God who inspires us to kill all the women, children, and men we count as foreigners or who refuse to bend the knee to the divine esteemed leader),

indivisible (once we get rid of all the riff-raff),

with liberty (to say and do what we (the "right") permit)

and justice (laws enforced on a sliding scale from most justice (by which we mean punishment and death) of the poorest, weakest,  and most colored, to symbolic enforcement toward the measly rich, to complete exoneration of the obscenely rich (by which we mean: what crimes? I don’t see no stinking crimes!)

for all (See, we (the right) DO have a sense of humor).

I guess when it comes to the pledge, I'm going to be an originalist. I have no respect for the orange person's creed. Indeed!

Happy Fourth of July, folks.

Meditating on Proper 8: Being Made Acceptable to God

 

Proper 8    

The Sunday closest to June 29

Almighty God, you have built your Church upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief cornerstone: Grant us so to be joined together in unity of spirit by their teaching, that we may be made a holy temple acceptable to you; through Jesus Christ our Lord,
who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Preface to the Lord's Day

I have always enjoyed DIY, construction, and remodeling shows on television. I enjoy seeing how some projects can be undertaken by a homeowner and how some ought to be left to professionals. I enjoy doing little DIY projects around the house and am fine with fixing things up, repairing or replacing light switches and outlets, installing fixtures, and that sort of thing. But when it comes to plumbing, that’s where I draw the line. I may be an Episcopalian, but when I do plumbing, I become an instant Baptist, and everything gets immersed and the Lord’s Name is invoked with great intensity.

Salvation is NOT a DIY project. As Saint Paul makes clear, our works don’t save us (although Saint James adds a wonderful corrective reminding us that faith without works is likewise dead). Our prayer today reminds us we are all a work in progress, and we’re part of a construction project that will never end. The apostles and prophets didn’t just “lay” the foundation; they ARE the foundation, and Jesus is the cornerstone.

Sometimes these metaphors become trite through over-use. For two thousand years we have thought of the church as a holy temple being constantly built. It’s easy to take a glance, nod in agreement, and then flit off to the next image, the next concept, the next big thing. But I would invite us to stop a moment and consider the words of our prayer. “Grant us to be joined together in unity of spirit by their teaching …”

“By their teaching.” The other day I was asked to engage in some continuing education courses that are required to maintain one’s license to function as a priest in retirement. Yes, one may retire, but one never stops learning, never stops working to remain qualified to function. I like that word “function.” That means it works the way it’s supposed to. We pray, asking God to keep us functioning properly. How?

By doing and saying things that are pleasing to God (“acceptable to you”). Think about a temple for just a moment. Yes, a physical temple. What do you notice about it? In our tradition, you’ll likely note beautiful stained glass windows. Many traditional stained glass windows tell stories, like the stilling of the storm, the farmer casting seed, women weaving, shepherds standing watch, apostles writing, Jesus preaching and teaching, the Good Samaritan, etc. Those aren’t just stories “of old.” They are our stories, too.

We, too, have dramatic stories to tell of God working in our lives. We, too, have stories of being helped by total strangers. We, too, have stories of being protected at times we were most vulnerable. We, too, have stories of being fed when hungry, visited when lonely, given a drink when thirsty, cared for when wounded or in prison. We have been the recipients in those stories, and oftentimes we have been the heroes in the stories of others. Ironically, we seldom look or feel like heroes. That’s because we’ve just done the right things as the occasions fell to us. Why? Because we are made of god-stuff, filled with angel-fluff, and have found ourselves set in place by the One who is not just the chief cornerstone, but the chief bricklayer, glass blower, framer, dry-waller, hod-carrier, roofer, electrician and, yes, plumber (although he may have delegated that to Johnnie B,* but who knows?).

Keep looking at that temple in your mind. Does your temple have a single spire pointing heavenward, or does it have twin towers representing the divinity and humanity of Jesus? Is it wood framed or solid stone like the great cathedrals of Europe (or our own national Cathedral)? Is it small, or does it have room for everyone? Does it have steps up to the Great Entrance; does it include a ramp to enable folks with mobility needs to enter? Does light shine from within? Wait; is that your light we see reflected on those massive walls as you approach, making the temple visible to all the world?

Suddenly, I see this prayer as more than just a quaint request to spiff up God’s kingdom here and there, sweeping dirt and dust off the furniture and beneath the rug, and setting out a few store bought cookies and microwaved coffee for our guests (whoever they might be). God sees each and every one of us as a precious and necessary asset for the building up of God’s kingdom. We are not a vanity project for the Divine, but a living, breathing member of the Divine. Jesus has placed each of us right where he knows we belong, and where we will do the most good. Stand firm. Stand tall. And if you see a leak, for heaven’s sake, call Jesus!

Amen.

* John the Baptizer

Meditating on Proper 7: Make us have perpetual love!

 

Proper 7    

The Sunday closest to June 22

O Lord, make us have perpetual love and reverence for your holy Name, for you never fail to help and govern those whom you have set upon the sure foundation of your loving-kindness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Preface of the Lord's Day

Matthew 10:24ff

Have you ever seen one of those “perpetual motion” machines? You know what I mean. Like the rack of steel balls that constantly clack back and forth, demonstrating Newtonian physics. Or the revolving pendulum on an anniversary clock that runs one direction for a bit, then back the other way.

There is no such thing as a perpetual motion machine, of course. The clacking steel balls come to a standstill eventually as the energy dissipates little by little. Anniversary clocks and pendulum clocks keep moving as long as the battery or spring mechanism has energy to keep them going. The idea of anything being “perpetual” is attractive, but is it realistic?

“Make us” have perpetual love, we pray. Perpetual love? What’s that? How does that work? What do we mean? Is this a sort of Ronco Set-it-and-forget-it kind of love? And what do we mean by “make us”? That sounds like compulsion. Compulsion isn’t loving, is it?

Our prayer reminds us that we humans have a tendency to let things go. Deferred maintenance creeps up on us. We’re supposed to change the batteries in our smoke detectors every six months – and no longer than a year. Yet how many people die because their batteries died first? 

I had a fellow come in for an oil change (back when gas stations actually serviced cars). I opened the oil pan and what came out wasn’t oil, but more tar-like sludge. He hadn’t changed oil since the age of the dinosaurs! Deferred maintenance to a whole new level.

We ask God to “make us” because it is so easy to let things slide. We’re not evil. We’re not even lazy. We’re simply so involved with life and living we lean on our habits. We take care of what’s in front of us – and that’s a good thing! 

So we need reminders about other important stuff, too. Love is a moving target. We don’t chase after it to catch it like a cat after a mouse or dog after a car. Love is a relationship that is ever-evolving, and what we’re doing is asking God to help us keep after it. We need help keeping it fresh, keeping it alive – help “keeping on keeping on” as we used to say back in those good ol’ hippy days of yore.

So what does that perpetual love and reverence for God look like? Well, it doesn’t take too much most of the time. Just as the clacky balls need a fresh push every now and then, and alarms need fresh batteries to sniff the air and keep us safe, so we need to learn to “hear what the Spirit is saying to God’s people.” 

We keep our relationships with God and neighbor fresh by spending time with them. Daily prayer. Yes, I can whip off the Lord’s Prayer lickety split, but I think what I’m asking God to help me do is slow down, taking as much time to listen to God’s Spirit as I do giving God a divine honey-do list that sloppy prayer often sounds, looks, and feels like. So God, help me slow down and just enjoy some time with You, for when I do that, many of my anxieties fade away.

Reading scripture daily is also helpful. Not as one of those anxiety-building exercises for which we feel guilty if we don’t get so much read daily or let slide because we’ve got meals to make or things to do. Oh my, the dishes need washing! No, don’t worry about quantity. Forget about trying to read the Bible in a year or a Gospel in a month (unless you find those exercises helpful or useful). No, just find a system that works for you. Find a passage and ask, “Where is God in this story? Where am I in this story? What would I be doing? How would I be reacting? What would happen if the characters did something different? Where would the story go if someone had a different choice or made a different decision, or chose a different path? What should I believe or do differently if I took this tale to heart? 

Attend church. It ain’t magic, but the fact is we live in a world that is so fractured and lonely, we need to come together to remember that we are not alone. We may feel like Don Quixote off on some crazy quest, but Quixote had his Sancho, and the fact is, sometimes I’m the knight, sometimes I’m the Sancho, but always I’m in need of a foil against which to exercise my faith and judgment, and to challenge the practicalities and ideals I am sometimes prone to overlook. 

In sum, “making us” isn’t compulsion, as such. Another way we use the word “make” has to do with production and manufacturing, like making breakfast or dinner, or making one’s bed, or even making up one’s mind. We are asking God to make of us a meal that’s nourishing and palatable for the world – to help the world see the love God is pouring out upon the people of the world – including those who don’t look, feel, act, or believe like us.

Perhaps if we focus on letting God change us, the world may eventually come around faster than if we try to change the world, for God has set us upon the sure foundation of (God’s) loving-kindness. 

God, please do this for us, we pray. Amen

Meditating on Proper 6: Keep, O Lord, your household

 

Proper 6    

The Sunday closest to June 15

Keep, O Lord, your household the Church in your steadfast faith and love, that through your grace we may proclaim your truth with boldness, and minister your justice with compassion; for the sake of our Savior Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Preface of the Lord's Day

I like the term “household.” Many times we refer to the church as a “family,” and that’s OK. We are the children of God. We are the family of God. We often call our priests “father” or “mother,” although that has changed a lot over the past half century. Before the ordination of women, clergy were solely men, and were usually referred to as Father so and so (if they were more high church “Anglo-Catholic”), or the Reverend Mister such and such (if they were more low church “evangelical”).

Broad church clergy tended to be a mix of either Reverend or Pastor. There was greater diversity in Episcopal churches back in those days which has been largely lost with homogenizing effects resulting from the liturgical renewal of the 1970s, not to mention the tectonic changes roiling the Church with the ordination of women and people the church often thought were “beyond the pale” of God’s grace. 

Through all this, we are (and remain) the household of God. Messy. Complex. Egotistical in our pride and ashamed in our failings; alternating between submissives and dominators; holier-than-thous and we’re-all-imperfects.

It is in this messiness we pray to God to “keep” us. Hold us tight. Like those disciples holding on for dear life in the stormy tempest whilst their so-called loving savior sleeps ever so peacefully at the stern “upon a cushion” no less (!). Their salvation lies not in the seaworthiness of their boat or strength and skills of the crew, but in their daring to scream at their Lord and Master: “Do you not care we’re about to die?” Roused from his slumber, Jesus rebukes the wind and waves. Not only does the world settle down, but so do the disciples.

Keep us, we pray. Keep us in your steadfast faith and love. Wait a minute. YOUR steadfast faith and love? Not “our” steadfast faith and love? 

Nope. Like the disciples, we have no power to save ourselves. We have no power over the wind and waves. We may think we know what to do. We may drop the sail, set a drogue or sea anchor, or bail like heck. But salvation? That is to be found in God’s hands, in God’s keeping. It is God’s faithfulness we look to. It is God’s love that gloms onto us. So our prayer begins and ends with this reality. We are God’s, and it is God who keeps us.

And why does God “keep” us?

So that “through God’s grace” we may have the courage (boldness) to “proclaim God’s truth …”

Which is what? 

That we are loved. Not just we in a particular house, home, family, or tribe. But WE … all of us. Having received mercy, we are called to extend the hand of God’s grace to everyone, with mercy and compassion. 

How do we do this? If we look at the lessons for this Sunday (June 14, Proper 6), we see that God considers those who listen to and obey the Divine One are God’s treasure (Exodus 19). We are made right with God by Christ’s faithfulness; God’s love has been poured into us by God’s Spirit (Romans 5). And we carry out God’s work by venturing forth to those who are unclean and sick. We extend to the world the same compassion Jesus extends to us. No more. No less. That’s what we’re praying for this week.

Go and do thou likewise.

Easter 5: The Jesus Way

 

Lessons for Easter 5 (Revised Common Lectionary)

• Acts 7:55-60 The story of Stephen, Deacon and martyr

• 1 Peter 2:2-10 … like living stone … be built into a spiritual house

• John 14:1-14 I go to prepare a place for you …

• Psalm 31:1-5, 15-16 Into your hands I commend my spirit

Collect: Almighty God, whom truly to know is everlasting life: Grant us so perfectly to know your Son Jesus Christ to be the way, the truth, and the life, that we may steadfastly follow his steps in the way that leads to eternal life; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. 

An Invocation:

Give ear O heavens, and I will speak; let the earth hear the words of my mouth. 

For I will proclaim the Name of the Lord, and ascribe greatness to our God.

Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” (John 14:6)

What’s he talking about?

Some years ago Barb and I were living down in Federal Way, and we would often go down to the Hylebos Wetlands where they have this wonderful nature trail and boardwalk. We’d go down to get in our “steps,” and although you could hear the the sounds of the city with cars driving by off in the distance, and see the jets flying overhead on their way to or from SeaTac, you really had a sense of being away from all that. You feel like you’re in the heart of a primeval forest, with the squirrels and chipmunks chattering in the trees above, the foxes shuffling through the underbrush beneath, and the birds calling out to one another in the dense canopy of a broadleaf jungle.

It really is a magical place to spend some time together and apart.

One day when we had finished our walk we were coming back to the car and I noticed one of my shoes didn’t feel right as I walked through the parking lot. When I got to the car I lifted my foot and saw the remains of one of the biggest, juiciest slugs we’ve got in these parts.

Yuck!

Well, I grabbed a stick and tried to get rid of those remains, but they were stuck on the shoe and in the tread, and the slime just wasn’t coming off, so I took off the shoe, tossed it into the trunk and drove home with a shoe on one foot and sock on the other. I figured I would take care of my shoe when I got home (where I had tools and a variety of cleaning solutions available).

I got home and worked on my shoe for a few minutes and nothing worked. Don’t tell anyone, but I am not a very patient man when it comes to things like that, so I decided I would just toss my shoes out. They weren’t new or valuable by any stretch of the imagination; it wouldn’t be any great loss.

Our daughter Jen came over to see what I was doing and I told her what had happened. After she got done laughing she said, “Here, let me try.” And she went to work, patiently & diligently scraping away until she got the sole of my shoe all cleaned.

It dawned on me: She was willing to do for me what I wasn’t able or willing to do for myself.

That’s the Jesus way.

You may remember on Maundy Thursday during Holy Week, we always have the story from John’s Gospel of Jesus washing the feet of the disciples. Jesus says, “Let me do this for you,” and the disciples are horrified. Most of them consent because that's the way most of us are. We do as we’re told. Peter objected strenuously, though, and I think most of us can relate to that.

Most of us watch where we step and are on the lookout for slugs, snails, and doggie-doo; we wear shoes and socks and bathe or shower regularly, we really don’t want strangers or even people we kind-of-know looking at, let alone touching our ancient, gnarly feet. 

So while some will go through the foot-washing ceremony, others will sort of take advantage of the hand-washing option, and yet others will quietly sit and pray in their pews, and all of that’s OK, because … 

That’s the Jesus way.

You see, like my daughter, Jesus is willing to do for us what we are unwilling or unable to do for ourselves.

That’s the Jesus way.

In the other Gospels, Jesus reminds his disciples that we aren’t to be like the Gentiles. The Gentiles are always jockeying for position, seeking to lord it over one another. In Jesus’ day, everyone had their place and everyone knew their place. There were those who would bow down to you, and there were those to whom you would bow down.

But Jesus says, “Take the lowest seat at the banquet so that you may be invited to come up closer. 

When someone strikes you on the one cheek, they have stolen your dignity. When that happens, offer them your other cheek; that is your gift to them. 

When someone compels you to walk a mile through a slug-infested jungle, they have stolen your body. When that happens, go an extra mile; that is your gift to them. 

When they steal your cloak, they have stolen your shelter. When that happens, give them your shirt; that is your gift to them.”

Why? Because …

That’s the Jesus way.

I tell you this because the foot-washing episode in John’s Gospel takes place at the Last Supper, which is where today’s Gospel reading takes place, and context is everything.

As Christians, as Children of the Resurrection, we are invited (“commanded,” really) to approach the world “Jesus’ Way.” 

If we want to know “What Would Jesus Do,” we really only need to look and see what Jesus did.

In the Gospel today, Jesus says, “Fear not. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God; believe also in me.”

That word “believe” has little to do with what goes on up here between our ears. It has to do with what goes on here in our heart. To “believe” is to embrace. Just like in the Nicene Creed, when we say “We believe in one God … we believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ … we believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord and giver of life,” we’re not speaking from the intellect, but from the heart. 

We embrace God who created each of us AND all of us. We embrace God who redeemed each of us AND all of us. We embrace God who sanctifies each of us AND all of us.

Jesus says, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.”

“Why?” we ask.

“Because,” says Jesus, “in my Father’s house there are many mansions (KJV) … many “dwelling places” (NRSV). I’m not leaving so much as I’m going to prepare a place for you.”

Jesus, the Carpenter, ever the son of a carpenter, says, “I’m going to make room for you; I’m going to make space for you.”

Those words “mansion” and “dwelling places” don’t really convey what Jesus is saying. He’s not talking about building single family dwellings, condos, casitas, granny flats, or guest rooms. He’s really talking about making room for all of us – expanding the living space for an ever-larger family of God.

So, what does that look like?

There’s a story (I think it’s a true story) of a small village nestled in the Alps. During the War the doctor had been called away to serve the military, so an old nurse was transferred in to take care of their medical needs. She would function as the mid-wife when babies were born, bandage up wounds, set broken bones, and take care of folks as they were dying. She would administer medical care as best she could with what few supplies they had.

On Sundays there was only one small church in town, but she was the lone Protestant in a Catholic village. When the bell would ring on Sunday mornings the village would gather to worship, and Elsa the nurse would join them. They would pray to God in Latin, while she would sit in the back pew and pray to God in Luther’s High German. They would receive communion by mouth, while she would “feed on him in her heart by faith, with thanksgiving” – in Luther’s High German.

After the war ended, Elsa stayed on, continuing to serve the village, taking care of all their medical needs until the day finally came when Jesus called her home.

Although she wasn’t Catholic, she was buried from the village church. She wasn’t Catholic, so she couldn’t be buried in the church's graveyard. The villagers begged the priest and bishop to make an exception, but the Canons forbade it, so they had to bury her in an unconsecrated grave in the commoner’s graveyard that sat next to a stone wall that separated it from the Catholic graveyard.

That evening, when day was done, villagers snuck out to Elsa’s grave and, in the light of a full moon, began to dismantle the wall alongside Elsa’s grave stone by stone. Over the course of a few hours they expanded and reassembled the wall so that the wall that once had kept Elsa out now included her in.

Jesus says, “I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except by me.” 

You can read that statement as something exclusive: If you’re not part of my group, my tribe, my faith … if you vote for the wrong color or the wrong candidate … if you pray in Latin instead of High German, or Spanish instead of Elizabethan English, or standing instead of kneeling, you’re beyond the pale. No Ticket, no Laundry!

But that’s not … … the Jesus way.

Instead, Jesus says, “I’m going to make space for you, and for you, and for you, and you … This stone the builders rejected is going to be the keystone, the cornerstone, the centerpiece of God’s creation.”

The question left for us, as the children of the resurrection is this:

How will we participate in the building of God’s kingdom? How will we move the stones further out to bring more people in?

Jesus says, “When you feed those who hunger, you’re moving stones. When you give drink to those who thirst, you’re moving stones. When you visit those who mourn, you’re moving stones. When you visit those in prison or help them in their freedom, you’re moving stones. When you clean slimy gunk off the old man’s shoes, you’re moving stones. When you do for others the things they cannot or will not do for themselves, you’re moving stones.”

We do these things as children of the resurrection. Why? Because …

That’s the Jesus way.

Sermon delivered by the Rev. Keith Axberg (Ret.) to St. Paul’s Episcopal Church (Mount Vernon, WA) 

Easter 5 (05/03/2026)