Sermon, March 26, 2003, by Rev. Art Wiese
Sermon Text -- John 19:25b-27
If you travel today to the ancient city of Ephesus in western Turkey, you can
journey down the road that heads south from the eastern gate, go a little more
than a mile and a half, climb up over a hill that crests about 450 meters above
the Mediterranean, move on down the other side toward the sea, and visit the
first-century home, where tradition says that Mary, the mother of our Lord,
spent the final years of her life enjoying the cool of the breeze, the song
of the birds, and the extraordinary view of the beautiful countryside. It is
an indication that Jesus' mother and "the disciple whom he loved,"
took seriously Jesus' third word from the cross, "Woman, behold your son!"
and "[Friend], behold your mother!" Sometime between the years 37
and 45 A.D., it seems that St. John, the apostle, took Mary with him and moved
to what was then called Asia Minor, settling in the western, seaport city of
Ephesus. While there is as of yet no physical evidence that links Mary directly
to this particular place, we do know that it was from Ephesus that John was
exiled to the Greek Island of Patmos, by the Roman Emperor Domitian, and that
it is near to where John's burial place may still be found today. Having been
assigned such a specific task by Jesus while he hung on the cross, there is
no reason to believe that Mary and John did not live out their lives in the
ongoing relationship of mother and son.
Jesus had high regard for the family. He was born into a working-class family
which, though it was of no particular reputation or pretence, no doubt provided
him with a good sense of security and a proper religious upbringing as part
of his childhood experience. He probably learned his father's trade and he most
certainly knew the comfort of his mother's love. He undoubtedly enjoyed the
rough and tumble play amongst his brothers, James, Joses, Judas and Simon, and
he may even have acquired his healthy respect for women by learning to cope
with the presence of his unnamed sisters. And yet, when he began his ministry,
it was not his family that played the central role, but the group of disciples
and friends with which he chose to surround himself. They became the focal point
of his ministry and his mission. They were the ones he sent out at the end of
his days to continue his work in the world. When the people he met questioned
his authority and the source of his power, he replied that "a prophet is
not without honor except in his own country and among his own family and in
his own house." And again questioned about his family, he asked, "Who
are my mother and my brothers?" To which he went on to answer, "Whoever
does the will of God is my brother and sister and mother." In effect, Jesus
was expanding the already broad notion of the family in his day to move beyond
birth order and blood relatives to include all believers. Everyone who becomes
his follower is to be bound and bonded into the family of God.
We also expect a great deal from our families. The poet Robert Frost wrote, "Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in." For many, family means a place of safety, a place of comfort, a place of contentment. Family are the people with whom we have been raised, those who accept us, who live with us, and who understand us even without words or explanation. For others, family is not so much a matter of chance, but of choice. For them, family may include people with whom we are not related genetically, people who have become surrogates for their own parents, friends who haven taken the place of siblings, and others who have come to be regarded as aunts, uncles, grandmothers or grandfathers. The bond which holds them together is not birth or housing, but commitment and love. And, of course, we have to acknowledge that there are those for whom family is neither a safe harbor nor a committed choice, but a place of sadness and sorrow, of disappointment and regret, of captivity and confinement. For them, family is not a good word. It is a word which brings to mind all of our negative notions of a broken and sinful world. Theirs is not a happy experience, and I hope not at all typical of most.
In the text for this third word, Jesus, hanging alone on the cross -- betrayed, denied and abandoned by those closest to him in life -- sees below him two of the people in his life who are bound to him both by love and commitment. They have not betrayed him. They have not denied him. They have not abandoned him. They are there with him, even in the darkest hours of his dying. And he says to them, "Woman, behold your son," and "[Friend], behold your mother." With these words, Jesus redefines the relationship of family to include all people as our sisters and brothers, our mothers and fathers, our daughters and sons. Through the cross of Jesus, God has taken a world filled with differences and pulled it into one great, united family in the person of Jesus Christ. That is something we need to remember in these days of conflict and of war. All of us are part of the human family. All of us are children of God. All of us are members of God's creation. It matters not whether we are American or Iraqi, coalition or republican guard. In the person of Jesus Christ, God has made us one. And through him, the one who has known us from our mother's womb, who has embraced us in our first cry, and who is bonded to us through love and protection, has walked the road of suffering beside us and welcomes us home from all our painful journeys. From his place on the cross, Jesus pronounces the blessing of family upon all who might otherwise feel lost or alone in our world. We are not alone. We have each other. Just look around you. Behold there your mother. See there your son. Find there your father. Greet there your daughter. Notice there your brother. Embrace there your sister. And welcome one and all to the family of God through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.