The Way

Take this moment to re-center your ideals.  Whenever we gather to worship God, we’re not leaving the world behind, but we are gonna zoom out and get the wide-angle view of what God is doing in human history with this incarnation business.  We cannot fully understand God’s motives, of course, but we can sit with what God is doing.  Every Sunday, we read the Scriptures while asking, what does this have to do with the world I’m living in right now? 

In these weeks after Easter, we are reading the Gospel testimonies about the times when Jesus appeared after he was resurrected, and we also revisit the things he said right before he died, because it might sound different now from the perspective of his crucifixion and resurrection. 

In John’s Gospel, as we just read (John 14:1-14), Jesus has these long speeches about love and praying for his disciples, and from their questions, we can tell that the disciples are not understanding it. When Jesus’s disciple Thomas says, “Lord, we do not know where you’re going—how can we possibly know the way?!” Jesus answers, “I AM the way!” 

In other words: it’s not what you know, it’s who you know. 

Jesus is the one to know, the one who leads us to God, the one who is always loving us so fiercely that we can’t help but return that love to God, and Jesus keeps telling us: if you want to love me, you’ll love your neighbor.  Which is incredibly difficult and something we might just prefer to quit doing entirely. 

I love the way Amar Peterman speaks about this.  He’s the founder of “Scholarship for Religion and Society,” and he recently wrote a book titled “Becoming Neighbors.” I read an excerpt in the Christian Century magazine, and I want to share some of this article with you, titled, “The common good is something we practice face-to-face.”[1] 

“Rather than standing outside the waves and ripples of cause and effect, Jesus enters the rotations of a world that he set in motion. Christ exists as both creator and creation, divinity and human. Christ does not come to us in a cloud of glory or place himself on an earthly throne. Instead, Jesus humbles himself into Mary’s womb and is birthed into the world he created at the beginning of time. He places himself in John’s arms and is plunged into the Jordan River. He empties himself in taking human likeness and walks with his creation even to the point of death (Phil. 2:7–8). God so intimately enters this world that the world is transformed by God’s touch, and God, in return, is moved by the world.”

“…Christ’s contingency should humble us, too. In a world that prioritizes individualism and uplifts self-autonomy, Christ chooses to become dependent upon creation—upon oxygen in his lungs and food in his stomach, upon friendships to nourish his soul and human feet to carry forth the gospel into the world. Christ is wrapped up with creation so intimately that he weeps and mourns at the death of his friend Lazarus. He grows tired and weary after a long day. Righteous fury boils within him when he sees houses of worship used for profit or human beings maligned and abused. Jesus also laughs and entertains his friends. He dances and sings at a wedding feast after turning water into the sweetest wine. He places his human body between people in need and those ready to throw stones. He takes time to sit with the children and the least, teaching that the kingdom of God belongs to them. God humbles himself to be with us—and does so at the greatest cost to himself.”

“…Jesus is the goodness and love of God given to us, mysteriously united with the flesh and blood of creation. The incarnation is the intimate entrance of the Creator into the chaos, not to control it but to smell, touch, taste, see, heal, and love. Christ comes in the vulnerability of hope, offering a better way to be in this world for those who will listen. In the incarnation, we see God’s desire to be local, to dwell in the neighborhood.

“But why? Why does our good God come to us enfleshed? Why does God humble Godself to the form of creation? Why does God dive into the waves of cause and effect set in motion by God’s very breath? Why does God desire a body that can be broken and bruised, that demands nourishment and rest? Why does God choose to break bread and heal the sick with calloused hands?

“The answer is simple and profoundly beautiful: to give it all away.

“God does not come to us because there was something for God to gain or prove to us. God comes to us in Jesus Christ so that we might gain God. Everything Jesus does is for the sake of others. Like God’s act of creation, God builds, makes, and gives life so that creation can be enjoyed rather than possessed. God does not come to dominate creation, forcing it to love the Creator. God comes to offer us an opportunity to experience the intimate joy of choosing to love God. Goodness exists to be given away.

“The example of Christ is a model for us today as we seek the good of our neighbors, finding and giving goodness away just as Jesus did. We sometimes assume that the work of seeking the common good is reserved for academics, politicians, activists, and best-selling authors. We imagine that the work of cultivating this vision takes place in executive suites, boardrooms, and capitol buildings. It can be difficult these days to imagine that we have any agency at all when it comes to the flourishing of our communities.

“But Jesus’ example tells us the opposite. To cast a vision of this common life, Christ does not take his message to the rulers and emperors of Rome or pen a long treatise to be read in the halls of power. Rather, in his earthly ministry, the light of Christ reveals that goodness is present in a place that the political powers and religious elites cannot fathom…”

“Jesus goes to the well in the heat of the day and offers a Samaritan woman the waters of eternal life (John 4). He beckons the tax collector Zacchaeus to come down from the sycamore tree and asks to share a meal with him (Luke 19). Before religious leaders enact violence, Jesus places his body between a woman caught in adultery and a stone-wielding crowd (John 8). Jesus draws near those deemed impure by Levitical law and reaches out his hand to touch and heal them (Mark 1; Luke 8). When a woman anoints Jesus’ feet with expensive perfume, he reminds those angered by this act that he is preparing for his burial and that this woman will be remembered whenever his good news is proclaimed (Matt. 26).

“To find the goodness in our world, Jesus goes to the margins of society to commune with people deemed impure. The first to hear Jesus’ gospel of a coming kingdom are not those with tremendous influence and power but those humble enough to hear and respond.

“Jesus, though, doesn’t stop there. Echoing God’s proclamation of creation’s goodness in Genesis, Jesus takes the ordinary things of our world and treats them as sacred and good. When asked about the deep things of God, Jesus does not look for an image or idea beyond our world. As poet and theologian Rubem Alves puts it, “We expected that he would talk about divine things. But he talks only about human things. Little ones. About the delights of heaven and the terrors of hell only a discreet murmur, if not silence.” Alves continues:

He speaks of the tranquility of the birds, the beauty of the wild flowers, the sun that rises on the good and the evil, the rain, as well. And he tells us about children whose games are dancing and playing flutes; he goes to parties, introduces in the midst of the celebration his own wine; he speaks of purity of heart; points out that life is more important than laws; is saddened with our anguish, fear of the future, desire to run things and be seen, wish to be more important; he prefers the company of the marginal and the despised to the bowing and scraping of those who use sacred deodorants; he laughs at the powerful (even knowing its risks); rather the adulterer who sinned for love than those who, virtuous from age and from fear, stand with rocks in their hands; he eats and drinks with ordinary people, speaks in an enigmatic manner, knowing that pearls should not be cast before swine (to the pigs, slop); he tells frightful stories in which the villains of real life always appear as heroes and the heroes of real life always appear as villains. But these are things of this world, about men and women, children and old people, animals and trees. Right. He talks about our world. About life. About our bodies. He talks about smiles and tears.

“When asked, “Who are you?” Jesus does not answer us with long-winded theological jargon. Instead, Alves notes, Jesus speaks about his desires. He tells us his dreams.”[2]

Which takes me back to the Gospel lesson. Jesus says, “The one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father.”  Jesus tells his disciples that he isn’t going to be able to work in the same way anymore—he can no longer lay hands on the sick to heal them, he’ll have to use your hands.  Jesus won’t hand out food to the hungry, that will be your job.  Jesus can’t physically sit at the table of the dispossessed; he needs you to do that. 

But this work isn’t being dumped on you to figure out on your own: Jesus also says, “I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son.  If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.”  What if we take Jesus at his word?  Why not ask for what we want? 

I posed this question to our church council a few weeks ago!  What would we ask Jesus for?  Here are some of their answers: we would ask for clarity with regard to ministry in our neighborhood.  We want to gather people together.  We want to repair relationships, especially with people who have left church.  We would ask Jesus for help with transporting homebound church members to gather for worship.  We ask Jesus for guidance toward what healing we can do as a congregation.  We want our actions to demonstrate a reputation for welcoming. 

What if you took Jesus at his word?  Ask for anything that will give you the chance to glorify God.  Your dream might be the same as God’s dream.  You might be the one to answer Jesus’s prayer. 

We do ask all this in Jesus’s name. 

Amen.

Pastor Cheryl

[1] Amar D. Peterman, The Christian Century, March 2026, pages 76-79.  https://www.christiancentury.org/features/common-good-something-we-practice-face-face  accessed on May 5, 2026.

[2] Ibid