Easter 7 B – 2006, Acts 1:15-26, Psalm 47, 1 John 5:9-15, John 17:11b-19 The Rev. J. Brian Ponder Church of the Resurrection Starkville, Mississippi May 28, 2006 In the Name of the Risen Christ. Amen. Today, our gospel lesson offers a further glimpse into the final hours Jesus shared amongst his friends. It’s a little ironic that today is the Sunday after Ascension Day, yet the Gospel image we receive takes us back to the night of Jesus’ betrayal. We find ourselves in the midst of this Easter season, one that’s supposed to be joy-filled and celebratory, yet always looming in the midst of the celebration is the fact that Jesus has died, that Jesus has risen, that Jesus will soon leave those he has loved and taught—those with whom he breaks bread—no longer strangers, as we heard last week, but friends. … The image reminds us of the reality of it all, the gravity—the true weight of the story of Christ. I was in Long Beach last week for the ordination of the diocese’s newest deacon, a camp friend from over the years. While there, amongst many friends from years’ past, I was reminded just how long it has been since I served on staff at one of Bratton-Green’s Special Sessions for physically and mentally challenged folks of all ages. Serving on Special Session staff was for quite some time one of my yearly rituals, working my way from counselor while in high school, eventually to cabin dad later in college and then to night programming coordinator by the time I stepped aside a full year before going to seminary. Special sessions were always great fun—but much more work. There was never a week that came and went, that I didn’t learn more about others—especially their capabilities and talents and gifts. And, I always learned something more about myself, as well. In addition to large-group games, fishing and boating, swimming, arts and crafts, singing (and often times enduring our self-taught instrumentalists), the ropes course, a hayride and, of course, the best talent shows ever … there was an evening ritual that will forever be etched into my memory from that time in my life—one that has made its mark in my own life and journey—evening worship—evening prayer time. Evening prayer at those sessions was usually a follow-up to the movie that had captured the day’s events and was shown as the day was winding down. Prayer time came right before milk and cookies. … This wasn’t a formal kind of prayer-time—at least, not by any Prayer Book standards. It was structured, but allowed for camper and staff spontaneity, each night staff members and camper upon camper upon camper standing or sitting there, offered thanksgiving for something that had been particularly meaningful to them that day—both difficulty and accomplishment. And towards the end of the week, the prayers only got more and more meaningful, more significant. … Prayer time was that one time of day, when you could hear a pin drop—when you waited on everyone’s next word to understand more clearly what had happened. I like to think of it as “miracle-time.” It was a time to pray for ourselves, a time to pray for both loved ones at home and new loved ones at camp. … This was holy time, when the profound reality of what was being revealed through the week’s experience was coming better into focus—moments when we could witness God’s breaking forth into the world—even in the midst of the days that had been too rainy for anything but board games, or when seizures and heat exhaustion had abounded and taken their toll, or when nothing seemed to go right … It was in these holy, end-of-the-day moments that many of us made connections and saw glimpses of the larger picture. It was these moments that were the most revealing, most inspiring and, for many of us, the most empowering—encouraging us on to the tasks ahead of us every next day. … I think this is probably something of what it must have been like for the disciples gathered around the Last Supper table that night … sharing in each other’s company … the pretenses fallen by the wayside … the familiarity of everyone’s strengths and frailties exposed, the vulnerability of not knowing what was to be said or signed or interpreted next, … hearing … listening to Jesus as he prayed. … This, more than anything else, is what stands out for me from today’s Gospel lesson … that Jesus prays for his friends in their very midst. He prays, not as an aside, but in their company. … He prays and asks that they may be empowered … acknowledging the day that is past … looking towards the day ahead … asking for both the courage and the strength his friends will need to see them through the challenges they would face every next day. … It’s not unlike the holy space, the holy time, created in that evening chapel time at camp, when gratitude, frustration, accomplishment, failure and thanksgiving—all of it—intersects … and we came to know the Other. … Today and every day when we come to this table, when we come to this house for prayer and worship and thanksgiving, we come not only in our strength but even more so in our weaknesses and our frailties, our vulnerabilities, and brokenness. It is here that God binds us—not only through affection to one another, but where God tends to us and mends us—that we may be readied for what’s ahead—not here but out there as we live out our lives, bearing witness to the Good News of Jesus Christ. … So what will we offer today? With what of our very lives will we make offering? … What will we give over to God—out of our control—to do with as God pleases? … and in so doing, find ourselves readied … empowered … guided … guarded? … Amen.