Vicar at Mount Olive

That is the last statement of our Affirmation of Baptism liturgy that holds the promises we have with our Triune God, with one another, and with the world. Working for justice and peace are simple enough words, but words that also carry weight, responsibility, and an obligation to one another. As we know, describing justice and peace can range from reaching all corners of our world to the day-to-day relationships we have. So, if we want to work for justice and peace, what does that even mean?

Looking to the Gospel, Jesus gives us a starting point.

He tells us that we are to love God with all our heart, soul, mind, and strength. And then, take that wholeness embodiment of love, and show that to your neighbor too. Jesus asks today we live that kind of life. The one that reminds us that we are dearly beloved and the one that reminds those around us that they are dearly beloved too. Although the statements appear as two commandments, they turn into one as we live our lives together. In order to love God, we must love the neighbor too. Working for justice and peace looks like emulating Christ and following the example of Christ.

To go further, the Psalm even gives us direction.

Psalm 15 was used as an entrance liturgy before going into the temple. These words describe the characteristics of people that were thought worthy to enter. The people who do what is right. Who speak truth from their hearts. Who do no evil and who do not reproach against each other. These were the people that are seen worthy enough to dwell, just for a short amount of time in God’s “holy hill.” Working for justice and peace looks like living among God’s faithful people and holding one another accountable.

And we hear Paul calling to us too.

“Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds.” Paul is not asking about a change of thought in one’s mind, but a bodily renewing transformation. Note that I did not say a completely new transformation, but one that starts from where we are as our whole selves. One that embodies God’s call as the body of Christ with our gifts and our struggles. All called to the same table. Working for justice and peace looks like sharing an ever-growing table, gathering and being transformed.

Hearing all of this might feel like a big ask.

Because we are not perfect. We will not walk into worship each day with clean slates. And yet, in our baptismal promises, seeing our imperfections and struggles, our Triune God comes as Jesus, God with us, to be with us. To show us how to love God and one another in the Gospel. To dwell with us, not only for a short amount of time, but to walk with us in our daily lives. Be among us in community, that wherever we embody Jesus that is what makes places holy. To call us to be renewed and transformed.

Do you see the connections?

Jesus is telling us about proclaiming the good news of God in Christ to one another and serving one another. The Psalmist is talking about living together among God’s faithful people as we enter into our worship communities. Paul is talking about being renewed by hearing the word of God, sharing together in the Lord’s Supper and our own bodies being renewed. They all work together so that justice and peace may abide within us.

Working “for justice and peace” is at the end of promises in baptism because if we are up holding the responsibilities that we trust God and one another with, we will be working towards peace and justice. Growing together as a faith community, sharing in scripture, sacraments, proclaiming the Gospel, and following the example of Jesus. They all connect together. Work together. So that we are constantly called back to the waters of new life.

Hear these words of your Affirmation of Baptism one more time.

As you receive the gift of baptism, you are entrusted with these responsibilities for yourselves and for one another:

☩ To live with God’s faithful people
☩ To bring the word of God and the holy supper, teach the Lord’s Prayer, the Creed, and the Ten Commandments
☩ To hold the holy scriptures and be nurtured in them in faith and prayer so that we may learn to trust God
☩ To proclaim Christ through word and deed, care for others and the world God made
☩ To work for justice and peace

In the name of the Father, and of the ☩ Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

“Unbind him, and let him go.”

March 26, 2023 By Vicar at Mount Olive

Pastor Paul E. Hoffman

Fifth Sunday in Lent A

Beloved in Christ, grace and peace to you in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

“Take off your clothes.”

Sources as reliable as Hippolytus of Rome and Cyril of Jerusalem attest to this shocking rubric, with which the bishop opened the baptismal rituals of the ancient church. In places as beautiful as Florence’s baptistry or as ordinary as a French country church, the presider began the baptismal rite: “Take off your clothes.”

They got the language from Jesus himself. John’s Gospel prefigures the dying and rising about to take place in the life of Jesus. Standing by Lazarus, John’s risen Christ commands: “Unbind him, and let him go.” That’s a close first cousin to the ancient church’s invitation, “take off your clothes.” Lazarus is about to be born again. And so are we.

Jesus invites us daily to step into the New Creation that he is about to forge on the cross. He looks with compassion on the emptiness of our lives as one might gaze upon a valley of dry bones. He wrestles out of the depths of the grave to be the first to rise from that grave-turned-womb into new and everlasting life. Even Jesus left his old clothes behind there in the tomb. They are the vestiges of a soiled and sin-filled former world.

That former world is a world of “if onlies…” The If only…. If only, Lazarus’ sisters mutter in their pain. And so do we. If only I were smarter, thinner, richer, sexier, more content. If only we could agree. If only the planet weren’t overheating. If only this unprovoked war would end. If only spring would come.

So here’s an “if only,” of a different stripe. If only we could see ourselves in Lazarus, if only we could see ourselves as Lazarus. If only we could put ourselves in his place in this story, then we will hear Jesus invite us to lay aside all that clothes us in pain and sorrow, sin and death. Then from our muttering and pain, we will hear: “Unbind them, and let them go.” That is Jesus, talking through the Scriptures, to us, his beloved Church, today. “Unbind them and let them go.”

If only we could see that Christ offers to wrap us in new life. It is a cloak he has been weaving for us since Lent began:

+To walk away from all in the former life with which the devil tempts us…

+To be born again, has Jesus reminded Nicodemus he must be.

+To drink of living water, the kind that Jesus shared with the Samaritan woman at the well.

+To proclaim, along with the man born blind, that Jesus is Lord.

+To allow the gifts of the Church to empower us to freely live in God’s good and renewed world, in ungrudging service to others

Breathe in the Spirit’s breath of New Creation. I encourage you to hear with ears of the resurrection our Christ proclaimed today at the table of new life:

With this bread and cup, we remember your Son, the first born of the New Creation.

By his own baptism into death, Jesus left behind the lifeless, stench-ridden clothing the world. From the grave he rose to make all things new. Just as the prayer says, “the first born of the New Creation.”

Into the valley of this beloved sanctuary, across our weary bones, his resurrection breath blows once more this holy day. He invites us to leave the old worn and ratty clothing of the past behind.

Free from fear, free from selfishness, or shame, free from the empty idle promises of this deceptive world. Free from death, itself. Free to leave that all behind, so that with him, we might live each day charged with the breath of the Spirit. We no longer live by the breath of the flesh. We live by the breath of the Spirit.

There’s one more thing. And it’s a big thing. It’s about why Jesus raised up Lazarus, why he stripped him of the garments of the graveyard. It’s about why he said, “unbind him, let him go.”

Jesus did not do this so that from here on out Lazarus could live an endless string of chicken soup for the soul kind of days.

Jesus did not say, “I am the resurrection.” He said more. “I am the resurrection and the life.” As Lazarus is given new breath, new life, so are we each day. Every day. And not for our own sake. Listen in again on the Eucharistic prayer about to be proclaimed:

With this bread and cup, we remember your Son, the first born of the New Creation. We remember his life lived for others, and his death and resurrection which renews the face of the earth.

There it is: his life lived for others. Life that really is life. Our baptism promises us that own future is held eternally in the nail-printed hands of Jesus Christ, the first born of the New Creation. He raises us up new each day not to live for ourselves, but to renew the face of the earth. Tenderness. Care. Acceptance. Healing. Hope. Welcome. These are the sinews that stitch together a life that is really is life. A life that really is life for all people.

As Lazarus was buried in the tomb, so were we buried in baptismal waters. And as with Lazarus, Christ will raise us up, daily unbind us, and let us go. He will reclothe us, that we may serve those in need and bring to the dry and lifeless bones of a world destined for death the breath of resurrection.

The Lord Christ did unbind us, and he has let us go. We are free. Free, that with each new day we might shed our old and worn-out clothes and be dressed in the dazzling robes of Easter life. A life lived for others. The only life that really is life.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.