Christopher Thomas
Sermon for Sixth Sunday of Easter, Year A – 5/19/20
Acts 17:22-31
Psalm 66:7-18
1 Peter 3:13-22
John 14:15-21
When you’re weary, feeling small
When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all
I’m on your side, oh, when times get rough
And friends just can’t be found
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down
– Bridge Over Troubled Water, Simon & Garfunkel
Troubled. Troubled. Troubled.
Paul Simon penned those iconic words, as Simon & Garfunkel’s anthem of angst took to the airwaves and pretty much summed up the feelings of a nation, maybe even a world, that was, “troubled,” to say the least. The year was 1970, and the world was on the edge of crises, the Vietnam War, raging all around, politics deeply dividing nations, peoples, communities, friends, families. Sound familiar?
To say that things were “troubled” would have been an understatement.
“Do not let your hearts be troubled?”
Are you kidding me?
“Do not let your hearts be troubled?
Why Jesus, dear Jesus, can you not see what is raging all around me, us, we? Are you blind? How could you make this statement, and then so blithely tack on, “…believe in God, believe also in me?”
Surely you see that the we I refer to is me, engaged in my own dark night of the soul, the dark night of fear some refer to as #Corona.
Oh, my heart is troubled, Jesus. Troubled would be, shall we say, a gross understatement of the current affair of my heart.
Truth is, that may say much more about me than it does about You, Jesus, or God, or even #Corona.
I sit, morning after morning, in my prayer area, in front of my window, staring out into the world, the beauty of God’s creation, praying toward my God, from me, from my “ivory tower,” a most unusual idiom, when you stop to think about it. I am praying from me, for where else could my prayer emanate?
I pray (hard) each morning for that “Bridge Over Troubled Water.” Jesus, where is that bridge? How am I/How are we to get to that bridge, so that we can cross over that bridge, because I am tired of feeling like I am drowning in these “troubled waters.” Truth is, folks, I’m not drowning, not by a long shot. I’m nine stories above the flood. Truth is, odds are fairly good that I’m not going to drown in these troubled waters, or any others, because I have some means of privilege. What I am more likely to drown in is my FEAR of these troubled waters.
Ah…..now, Jesus, we may be getting to something we can work with!
And so, as I was begging Jesus to reveal this “Bridge Over Troubled Water” this pathway, several things seemed to coalesce, almost, but not quite, at once. We’ve been talking a lot this Eastertide about the Jesus resurrected and revealed, Emmanuel, God among us, in the world all around us, in the faces of everyone we meet and encounter. Remember, for me, that’s in no small part the face of the homeless who inhabit the streets and the parks, the corners, the sidewalks and the alleys of downtown Dallas. These are my neighbors. There’s Jesus! Imagine my surprise as I waved to Jesus from my “ivory tower!” There’s your “Bridge Over Troubled Water!”
Now, all this is about the time that I’m reciting “The Prayer Attributed to St. Francis of Assisi.” You know this as well or better than I. It’s just full of these ridiculous conundrums.
Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
To be understood as to understand;
To be loved as to love;
It is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
It is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
There’s something about reorientation, about turning our gaze from “understand me, to understand other;” from “love me, to love other;” from “pardon me, to pardon, other,” and when I do that, behold, who do I see, outside my window, but Jesus, down below, in the garden, on the street corner, beneath my “ivory tower.”
You may be wondering, “Why are we hearing another “troubling” sermon this week? We “troubled” things last. Were you not paying attention? Have you misread the lectionary for the day, Fr. Christopher?”
Ah, yes, but today’s lectionary forms the second half of a very important whole, Jesus’ pledge not to leave his beloveds (that’s us) orphaned. So it’s important to see this “Bridge Over Troubled Water” in its context, to fully understand what’s developing, what’s coming next, what it is that’s going to transport us to the other side.
When you’re down and out,
When you’re on the street,
When evening falls so hard,
I will comfort you.
I’ll take your part, when darkness comes
And pain is all around
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
Sounds to me like Simon & Garfunkel have seen, and know, this Advocate (capital A, Advocate) of which Jesus speaks. “When evening falls so hard, I will comfort you. I’ll take your part, when darkness comes.” Someone has lived all that. How else could you possibly Advocate?
Advocate is a word that gets thrown around far too loosely. “We’re going to advocate for this group or that, for this person or that, for our rights on this or that.” That is not what Jesus is talking about when he says, “I’m asking the Father to send you an Advocate.” I’ve had people say they were going to advocate for me, and I don’t think many or most have a real idea what “advocate” truly means.
Advocate – “Paraclete,” in Greek. “One who has been called to our side, to stand up for us to explain us to the court”
Now, I have experienced a real-life, earth-walking “Paraclete” by the name of Fr. Courtland Moore. Fr. Court Moore met me in about my 7th or 8th year of struggle in the “discernment” process toward ordination, and, at 92 years old, this man KNOWS what it means to Advocate (capital A). He put his privilege, his “ivory tower,” his capital, and his sweat-equity on the line, to bring about something that he knew in his heart was meant to be, my call to ordination to the priesthood. He knew and was not afraid to “Advocate.” His gaze was radically turned from self, to other, thereby becoming that “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” a veritable paraclete.
Should we, could we dare add a line to Francis’ attributed prayer? See how this feels.
“Seek not so much an advocate, as to be an advocate.”
Where could that “Bridge Over Troubled Water” take us, because Jesus, I AM “troubled!”
#ArmaudArbery
#Breonna Taylor
#AtatianaJefferson
#BothamJean
#SandraBland
#TamirRice
#PhilandoCastile
#MichaelBrown
#JesusOnTheStreetCorner
#JesusInThePark
I can hear the “buts” now, as the words are coming out of my mouth. “I would do that, I would march with you, but…”
If there is one word I could banish from the English language, it would be the word, “but.” You’ve heard the old cliché that “but” negates everything that came before it, and that is true. And it’s more insidious than that. In this case, “but” serves to turn the gaze back toward self. Every single time we think of putting some of our own capital on the line, some of our own sweat-equity, some of our own privilege into the arena, and we say, “I would do that, but…,” we are turning from other back to self. Self-protection, self-interest, self-concern, self. I – Me – My – Mine.
I will lay me down.
There can be no “Bridge Over Troubled Water” without St. Francis, friends, because the vision of self must fade into the vision of radical other, which is, in fact the glorious vision, because, remember, it is the vision of Jesus Christ, nee God, Emmanuel, God among us!
Lord, make US instruments of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let US sow love;
Where there is injury, pardon;
Where there is discord, union;
Where there is doubt, faith;
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy.
Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be advocated for, as to advocate on behalf of,
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life with Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior!
AMEN!
