“One LIght in the Darkness”

Second Sunday in Easter

April 7, 2024

Acts 4:32-35

John 21:1-19

Children’s Message:

I’ve got this great firepit here. What kinds of things do you do around a fire pit? (Tell ghost stories, roast marshmallows, hang out with friends, sing songs, make s’mores.) Do you ever make a meal on a firepit? You know, that’s how cooking was done for centuries—over a flame instead of on a stove or in an oven.

Today, we heard about Jesus hanging out with the disciples after his resurrection. They had gone fishing one night, but by morning they hadn’t caught a thing! And as they were coming to shore, a man on the beach told them to throw their nets to the other side of the boat. When they did, they caught a ton of fish.

That’s when they recognized Jesus. And when they got to shore, they brought their fish and ate with him by the fire. I wonder if they sang songs and ate s’mores. What songs do you think they sang? What kinds of stories do you think they told each other? They didn’t need a ghost story—they had a real live resurrection story sitting beside them!

What do you think the bread tasted like? Do you think it was chilly that morning, and the disciples got nice and close to the fire?

I like sitting around the fire—except when the smoke starts blowing my way. There’s something about watching the flames that can be calming and exciting. You know? I wonder what it would have been like sitting with Jesus that morning, remembering his death and then eating with him days later.

Let’s pray. Dear God, sometimes it’s hard to recognize you in our world. Help us always be amazed when we sit next to you and share your story. Amen.

Message:

In 1997, priest and chaplain, Becca Stevens welcomed her first residents into her housing ministry in Nashville, TN. It was a ministry borne from her own pain of having experienced sexual abuse as a child. She wanted to offer hope to women who had often never known hope before—women who had been addicted to drugs, women who had become prostitutes, women who had been abused over and over again—women who were looking for a new life.

After a time, Becca realized that housing could only be the beginning. The women in her ministry may be housed and fed and cared for, but they had no access to meaningful and sustaining work. In 2001, she started Thistle Farms, a line of home and body products that the women manufacture and sell. Becca chose the thistle because “Thistles grow on the streets and alleys where the women of Thistle Farms have walked. Considered weeds by many, thistles have a deep root that can shoot through concrete and survive drought. The resilience, vibrancy, and healing qualities of the thistle parallel the survival and flourishing of women survivors.”[1]

Thistle Farms and Magdalene House is a ministry that offers 2 years of free housing, healthcare, trauma therapy, community, and employment in an effort to prepare women to be successful when they leave. They are a beacon in a very dark world. And they are working to change the systems in their community—systems that have perpetuated the abuse and limited options of women growing up in the shadows of their community. Their motto says it all: “When you invest in women, entire communities heal.”

St. John of the Cross wrote his poem, known as “Dark Night of the Soul” in the 1570’s. His poem reads as a lover escaping into the night, led by a precious light, to the place where his beloved Christ awaits him to reveal Christ’s self to all of the senses. More commonly today, we refer to the dark night of the soul as a crisis of faith or a difficult time in our lives. I think, perhaps, neither are far apart.

Nighttime is traditionally a time of waiting. We sleep, in part, because until quite recently, work could not be done in darkness. The work animals slept. The crops slept. The birds sleep. The world rests. But sometimes, night is the only time to work. And night can be dangerous—for those fishing on the sea, as well as women trying to survive on the streets.

I get the feeling that Peter often went fishing at night. But, in the case of John’s gospel account, night holds more meaning than simply the time between sunset and sunrise. Night is a time of fear and unknowing. Nicodemus came to Jesus at night with his questions. John describes Jesus as light shining in darkness. He frequently uses seeing and knowing and understanding almost interchangeably.

So, the disciples go out at night, only days after they’ve seen Jesus. They still don’t understand. They return to their former lives, not seeing any way for their time as disciples to take root for the future. Not until the morning dawns, and Jesus stands on the shore, waiting for them. Here, John takes us back to stories earlier in the gospel account.

The inability to recognize Jesus is much like John’s resurrection account in which Mary of Magdala thinks Jesus is the gardener. Jesus sits by a charcoal fire, much like the one at which Peter denies Jesus before the crucifixion. Jesus feeds the disciples with fish and bread, much like he fed the thousands on the hillside.

And in these little ‘easter eggs,’ we find familiarity and hope—like a light shining the way through the night to the beloved. A light that may not illuminate everything, but just enough to take a step forward, a bit at a time. Jesus offers the disciples a way forward—a path to follow. And then, he directs his attention to Peter. “Do you love me,” Jesus asks. “Of course, I do,” Peter responds. And Jesus gives him his task: “Feed my sheep. Tend my lambs. Care for my people. Shine my light for those who still live in darkness. Help show them the way. Help give them life.”

PBS recently showed a 2-part series on Dante and his authorship of his famous “Divine Comedy.” They talked of his love of his birth city of Florence, a city from which he was exiled. Florence had a baptistry—a place within one of the cathedrals—in which everyone in the city was baptized. It was the only church authorized in the city to perform baptisms.

On Good Friday, every house would extinguish all of their candles and cook fires. The houses would remain dark and cold to commemorate Jesus’ death. The whole city waited in silence and shadows. But in the dark of Easter Eve, in the late afternoon of Holy Saturday, the heads of every household would go to the baptistry, where a large bonfire had been lit. They would take the light from the fire and a coal from the embers and bring them home. The Paschal Candle—the Christ Candle—would be lit from the same fire, and each house would come alive with the light from the same fire, each home cooking from the same fire.

Imagine the lights slowly illuminating each house, one by one, each lit from one fire, one spirit, one hope. What an amazing symbol of unity. That’s how I imagine the work of justice and peace. One fire for all of humanity—one light being sent out to bring light and hope and love to every person. To the disciples eating with the newly risen Christ. To the women finding a home and a life with Thistle Farms. To those seeking life and light here in Lincoln.

Pastor Tobi White

Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church

Lincoln, NE

[1] https://thistlefarms.org/pages/our-mission