Easter 5A , Acts 17:1-15, Psalm 66:1-11, 1 Peter 2:1-10, John 14:1-14 The Rev. J. Brian Ponder, Chaplain Church of the Resurrection, Starkville, Mississippi April 24, 2005 In the name of Jesus Christ--the Way, the Truth and the Life. Amen. Soren Kierkegaard once wrote … To you, O God, we turn for peace … but grant us too the blessed assurance that nothing shall deprive us of that peace, neither ourselves, nor our foolish earthly desires, nor my wild longings, nor the anxious cravings of my heart. Oh, if only Philip could have prayed so boldly! In today's gospel, we continue in a shift of scenes from the resurrection and post-resurrection appearances back into the life and ministry of Jesus. This is a flashback of sorts for us to consider and ingest in the very midst of our Easter celebration--of Jesus' triumph over death, his having broken the chains of oppression, and the redeeming work of salvation completed. What an awkward shift, especially in the midst of the celebration. … Maybe it is, and maybe it isn't. It may seem somewhat strange to shift focus backwards in time to conversations that took place in the final days of Jesus' earthly existence and his ministry with the disciples; but there's a truth in this encounter that is relevant to us today and would most certainly have been moving to those who would have remembered it in the days following the crucifixion. This is the beginning of Jesus' farewell discourse--the conversations Jesus had with his disciples, preparing them for the day to come when they would have to continue on without him … no longer tangible, no longer physically present to them, no longer in their very midst. And what we see quite clearly is that the disciples aren't ready to hear it. They don't want to go there. They don't seem to understand the reality of it all. … In an attempt to allay some of their fears, Jesus seems to open up a can of worms. Questions start to pop up all over the place. They just aren't ready to hear what they're hearing--so they seek clarification. Growing up, many of you will remember that my home parish was St. Philip's in Jackson. Emblazoned on the parish's banner and seal are the words "Show us the Father." … Show us the Father. … Out of context this snippet at one time conjured up in my mind a sense of righteousness and invitation--invitation to the workings of God in this world and in our common life. It implied a willingness to believe, to understand more readily, to go deeper, to dig--no delve--more deeply into the reality of God. And don't get me wrong, that's part of Philip's story; but within the context of the dialog it points to more than invitation. It's a naïve and ignorant challenge, in part, while at the same time is an expression of desire, of longing, of hunger and thirsting for the truth at soul-shaking proportions. And in the mix of it, what we realize--and more importantly what Jesus realizes--is that Philip and Thomas and the others can't seem to fathom that the Kingdom of God that has come near to them is in their very midst. They have seen God, perhaps as clearly as anyone could see, or could have seen, God, and they've got to be reminded of it! … Irony of ironies! It's like the Twelve Stooges! Was it all just too much for them? Did they just feel like part of some kind of sideshow? Were they so wrapped up in it all that they just missed something, somewhere along the way? Were they really that simple? Show us the Father! Indeed. … Philip, Thomas and the others wanted to see the Kingdom. They wanted to know God, to see God; and they wanted it all so much that they seem to have missed a huge piece of it--at least comprehending it anyway. Philip said, "Show us the Father, and we will be satisfied." He's still hungry. He's still wanting and needing. He's still desirous of more, not realizing his being in the presence of the Fullness that would cover all emptiness for all times. … I don't fault Philip. We're Philip and we're Thomas, and we're the whole lot of them, really. Our lives get so easily filled with the day-to-day grind--routines, the bad news that fills our worlds, sickness and disease, and you name it--that our sight--our recognition--of the omnipresence of God in our simple and mundane lives can become blurred. I know this is true for me. Isn't it true for you, too, sometimes? In our gospel, the disciples are receiving some not-so-good news--okay, it's more than that--it's terrible news. Jesus will only be with them for a little while longer. How will they go on? What will happen to them? Where will they go? What will they do? … Scarlet O'Hara couldn't have asked any better herself! But Jesus abides with them in that moment. He does not rebuke Thomas and Philip, nor any of the others. Rather, his responses get them thinking. They're a wake up call--a reality check. Jesus' words to them become a commissioning to continue on, to persevere, to live into the joyful burden that will be theirs to bear and share. "And, in the midst of it all," he tells them … "you find God." We live in a place and time when there's a going rate for satisfaction--to be good enough, or smart enough, or wealthy enough, or you name it. Many of us may even find ourselves in a series of never-ending cycles, seeking fulfillment to the point of compulsion or obsession in reaching these or similar goals--of having more than our fill, of consuming to the point of obscenity, of gathering to ourselves more and more--or considering ourselves inadequate if we can't achieve it all … whatever the vices, or weaknesses, or false comforts may be. This all leads to loss of vision to the reality of met needs, sufficiency and plenteousness already present to us. … To you, O God, we turn for peace … but grant us too the blessed assurance that nothing shall deprive us of that peace, neither ourselves, nor our foolish earthly desires, nor my wild longings, nor the anxious cravings of my heart. Jesus Christ is the way, the truth and the life. Through the person of Jesus, his life and ministry, that same life laid down for us and his raising to life again, we know more clearly the love of God for us. I think Philip and Thomas knew this, too, they just needed a reminder--a refresher course, if you will. It is Christ to whom we turn for peace--peace in our own day, in our own lives both corporately and individually. Jesus--God--breaks forth through the mundane and simple, shouting, "Here I am" and offering life abundant. Through this same disclosure, we find ourselves called out of misdirected restlessness to a restlessness in which we pursue perfect union with God and each other. We find ourselves called to a holiness of life based on the abundance of God's working in our lives and in the world around us. And we find ourselves called, like Paul and Silas in today's reading from Acts, just as did Christ, to upend the world around us--shedding light on those places of darkness that encroach upon God's places of light; to spread a message of hope rather than despair; to attest to Love's redeeming work accomplished once and for all time and for all in our very midst, even some 2000 years since Jesus' earthly pilgrimage. And it's in the midst of the simple and mundane that the incredible gains credibility, that the truth is revealed, that we see God. We know more fully the nature of God through Jesus. May we ever strive to envision for ourselves more clearly that which already was and is and is to be for us. May we ever strive to discern the nature of God's love for us and all humankind that we may understand it and live into it more fully. May we see God for ourselves in the face of the stranger, in the face of the familiar, even in the face of adversity, and especially in the practice of random acts of kindness and mercy. And, may our sight of God and God's sight of us ever pierce through to our very souls. Amen.