Sermon, May 28, 2017
Luke 24:44-53
Acts 1:1-11
Today’s scripture is kind of
fascinating, in that it’s two books from the same author. Technically for worship we were supposed to
read Acts first, as it is currently in the place of the Old Testament reading,
but I reversed it because it’s more accurate.
Luke’s gospel is known as the
storyteller in the bible. He is thought
to be Greek, and not a Jew - the only Gentile to write a book of the bible. And he clearly
wrote his gospel with a Gentile audience in mind. It reads more like a novel in the Greek
tradition, so anyone on the street of a Greek city picking up Luke's gospel
would have felt at home with it if they were able to read. Throughout his narrative, he points out
things that a Gentile audience would not have assumed, like Jesus’ circumcision
on the 8th day – an expectation when talking to Jewish audiences but
something that needed explaining in other contexts. Luke made sure to give a detailed account of
everything he wrote, so that those who were not as familiar with Jewish
traditions, customs, places, and Old Testament references would be able to
understand the history of Jesus and the plan of salvation. Scholars also believe that Luke is the author
of the book of Acts of the Apostles. So
what we just read, the conclusion of the Gospel narrative of Luke, and the
introductory paragraph of his next chapter, the Acts of the Apostles, is how it
would have been written. He addresses it
to Theophilus – who may have been a real person, but which in Greek also means,
‘Friend of God’.
Last week I mentioned that I have
become a little obsessed with the musical Hamilton… because the sickness has infected my
family out East, both in Boston and in Illinois, and they strategically left
the CD in my car during my father’s visit, and then forced me to listen to it
during my sister’s visit. It’s a bit
like an infection…and now that I’m
addicted to it I’m becoming contagious.
Anyways, the last song in the musical
is called, “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story?” Hamilton is one of the Founding Fathers, an
architect of so much in our country, but often is forgotten or overlooked because
he was never President. After he was
shot and killed in a duel, his wife Eliza worked for the next 50 years to
publish some accurate story of him. She
started an 18th Century version of scrapbooking.
Monday is Memorial Day, a day that we
make a point to remember the people who have died for our country. It is the day we remember the people in our
history, the people who made that history possible. Memorial Day became an official federal
holiday in 1966, but some historians source it to 1865. On May 1 of
1865, former slaves in Charleston, South Carolina honored 257 dead Union
Soldiers who had been buried in a mass grave in a Confederate prison camp. They
uncovered their bodies and for 2 weeks, worked to give them a proper burial as
gratitude for fighting for their freedom. They then held a parade of 10,000
people led by 2,800 Black children where they marched, sang and
celebrated. Doubtless, this was just one
episode among dozens in cities across our war-torn country where people were mourning
the dead and retrieving their loved ones.
This story is just one retelling of the countless sacrifices of brave
men and women who have allowed us the freedom to tell our layered American
story.
That got me to thinking… When do we begin to write things down?
When is it that we see the need for a
written record? What power is there in
telling the story?
My mother has a binder that has a
special place in our home, and our hearts. It holds her family’s genealogy
going back to those who emigrated from the Netherlands. It was prepared by a second cousin on her
mother’s side - by the only remaining relative who remembers such things. The binder is special because my mother’s
mother, my grandmother, died when my mother was 7 years old. It holds all the family history she didn’t
even know to ask prior to the gift of the binder.
On my father’s side, my grandmother was
a German War Bride, brought here after my grandfather was stationed in Germany
in WWII. One of my great regrets is that
I didn’t get more details from my grandmother about her remarkable life, first
in Germany and then as an immigrant here, when she was alive – or from my
grandfather, for that matter. There are
untold stories there that I’ve lost forever. The history of our lives, the stories and
anecdotes that make our heritage rich, passes with the people who live it. Sometimes we don’t realize that we want it
until after they are gone.
The need to remember, the motivation to
write things down for posterity, often becomes important only once someone has
passed away. We write about the things
that made us whole, the things that bind us together, the things that caused
pivots in the pathway of life. We
memorialize the important things – unlike the written things we find on the
internet today, things designed to provoke outrage, or fear, or anger, or
persecution and defensiveness – when we write our histories, we write about
wisdom. We write about choices. We write
about suffering and grief and triumph and success. We write for the legacy. We write to offer
guidance to the next generation.
Luke knew that the story they had to
tell was too precious to fade with the passing of the generations. These incredible things they had experienced
were astounding. They met this man, who
seemed to have a connection with God. He
ate and drank with them. He provided
endless bounties of food. He loved and
laughed with them. He did miracle
healings in front of their eyes. He
lamented and cried with them. He showed
no fear at brandishing of deadly power.
He prayed and taught for them. He
walked the earth after dying. He
comforted and guided them. He withdrew
into heaven before their eyes.
They were witnesses, and wow did they
have a story to tell. A story that could
change your life.
Looking back in time, it seems obvious
to us that the Gospels were written to witness to Jesus’ life. But historically, they weren’t written down
immediately. People lived Christ’s
message and told Christ’s story for decades before anyone put pen to paper – or
perhaps feather quill to parchment. It’s
approximately 70 AD, or 70 years after the death of Christ when Luke produces his
Gospel. Why do you think they chose that
particular moment to write down all they had witnessed to?
Perhaps it was because some members of
the community were ready to leave the nest – to leave their Palestinian-Jewish
community and go to farther lands, and the written version would help with
translation. Perhaps it was because they
wanted the opportunity to shape what was remembered about Jesus – create the
most accurate or understandable version of these powerful events. Or, maybe it was because they were afraid the
stories were about the pass with an aging community.
For the fledgling Christian community, 70
years after the death of Jesus was probably the second generation that has been
living in the Christ tradition. Now the
children of the people who knew Jesus were coming of age and someone must have
been worried that the story they loved to tell would be weakened by the
generations removed, when there were so many more people they needed to reach
in the future.
We write things down for the
living.
It’s the living who need our histories,
our scrapbooks, our genealogy, and our scriptures. We write down the things we’ve witnessed to
help the living understand their heritage, to find their place in the context
of generations. It’s the living who need
to know their family traits that give them character, and their moral
foundation to gain wisdom in the choices they will face in life.
We write things down for the living.
It’s the living who can learn lessons
from the past, who can peer inside the circumstances and gain insight from our
choices. It’s the living who can carry
forth the legacy, who can live into the Gospel, who can take action to right
past wrongs or build on past ‘rights’ to expand the realm of God’s Kingdom.
We write things down for the living.
And God keeps sending angels to remind us
about the living. While the disciples
stand around staring into the sky, two messengers appear to them. “Men of Galilee, why do you stand looking up toward heaven?”
Like the angel that appears at the
empty tomb, asking Mary, “Why do to you look for the living among the
dead?” God is always pointing us back
toward the living, the people in Jerusalem, the people who need God’s love and
service.
How often does the church get caught up
in arguments staring up into heaven? How
much time do we waste stargazing rather than witnessing to Jesus’ life and
death is in our lives, in our actions? Luke’s
gospel story intentionally ends with a transition to the church’s ministry
rather than a summary of Jesus’ life and death and meaning. It emphasizes the legacy of Christ that will
be presented to, and then present in, the disciples in the coming days - a
foreshadowing of Pentecost. Each time I
hear these passages, it reminds me of God saying, “Why do you dillydally? You know the goal. Get to Jerusalem, and get to work!”
On this Ascension Sunday, God is
pointing us back to the living, where we might witness God, and where we can be
God’s witness. But most importantly, the
story points us back to the living so that the world may witness God through
us.
Amen and Amen.
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