Do any of you
remember exactly where you were when President Johnson was sworn in?
How about when
President Kennedy was shot?
I wasn’t there,
of course, but I have seen the pictures.
Images of an
open car on a street, a frozen moment of sudden movement and shock.
And the image of
a crowded, low-ceilinged space, and Johnson with his right hand raised.
Two parts of the
same story. But most of the
attention gets paid to the first part – the shocking tragedy.
The scene in Air
Force one is the post-script.
Something
similar happens with the scriptural stories of Judas and Matthias.
Judas Iscariot
first appears in the gospel stories when Jesus chooses twelve of his faithful
disciples to become apostles – sent out on Jesus’ behalf to proclaim the
kingdom of God, to teach and heal.
And then there’s this moment of searing tragedy when Judas turns Jesus
over to those who will kill him.
Matthias appears
only once – in this post-script.
In the days just after Jesus’ ascension to heaven – while the disciples are
still waiting in Jerusalem to find out what happens next – they determine that
someone needs to take Judas’ place.
They nominate
the two men who’ve been disciples and witnesses to Jesus from the first days of
teaching through the resurrection.
They pray. They throw
dice.
And the lot fell on Matthias.
And he’s never
heard from again.
It’s not that
the eleven remaining apostles couldn’t have continued to do the work Jesus had
given them. But twelve is the
number of completeness for the people of God and the children of Abraham. So twelve apostles serve as a
sacrament, a visible sign, that God’s authority is stable and that the leadership
of God’s people is complete.
I’ve seen the
image of Lyndon Johnson’s airport inauguration many times. And for me it’s always been an icon of
continuity and hope – a promise that the shocking, painful present has a
future.
That’s why the
transfer of power matters – in a crisis or a time of uncertainty, it’s the
connection of purpose between the present and the future –it gives us the
bridge between what was or is, and what can be.
The United
States of America need a living, competent, duly-sworn President. The holy people of God need a circle of
twelve, a sacrament of wholeness.
Of course, it’s
not always dramatic. In most of our lives, the transfer of authority happens
gradually – there’s a progression from car-seat to shiny new driver’s license,
to eventually giving up the car keys.
A gradual, sometimes back-and-forth, pace from job training, to managing
or mentoring others, to retirement. Every two years we swear in a Congress – and
the names and faces change only gradually.
It happens in
cycles and the milestones and moments aren’t always clear.
But it’s
important to us, and it’s important to God.
In Jesus’ prayer
for his disciples on the night before his arrest and death – the prayer we
heard in the Gospel reading today – he’s managing a transfer of power. Jesus prays that as he himself has
glorified God and made God known, so may the disciples glorify Jesus and make
him known. And he prays for those
who will learn from these disciples – a chain of prayer and the passing of
authority and responsibility that comes all the way to you and me, here and
now.
The job of the
apostles – to proclaim the kingdom, to heal, to serve as witnesses of
resurrection, and the job of Jesus – to glorify God and make God known – is
transferred with all its authority and responsibility to those disciples in
Jerusalem and from them to us.
It’s not the
same crisis that we’re facing, but these too are uncertain times. We’re still
waiting for Jesus, sill need these signs and assurance.
In a very real
way, you and I, the church today, are that same sacrament of hope and purpose
that Matthias was in the days just after Jesus’ resurrection and ascension.
It’s not
easy. It’s often messy – in fact,
the rest of Jesus’ prayer for the disciples is mostly that they’ll survive this
work, that they’ll be protected from the danger and disruption of a world that
isn’t all that eager for the glory of God.
And sometimes we
screw it up.
We forget the
responsibility, or we get God’s power and God’s glory confused with our own
ambitions and preferences.
Sometimes we can hurt people – on purpose or by accident.
Last week I saw
a TV interview with Robert Caro who has written an extensive biography of
Lyndon Johnson (4 volumes and counting), and he re-told the story of that
moment in Air Force One in November 1963.
He talked about
how Johnson had hated Kennedy’s politics, how the President and Vice-President
had been distant and uncooperative, how Johnson had paced the hospital waiting
to hear if Kennedy were dead – then deliberately called Robert Kennedy to ask
details of the oath just minutes after he learned his brother had died. The interviewer made him sound like a
jerk.
And then told how
once the oath had been sworn, Johnson rushed to do everything he could to live
out his vision of a nation that respected civil rights, cared for the elderly
and the marginalized, and walked the walk of justice and equality for all.
It doesn’t
matter that Johnson could be a manipulator or coldly political. It doesn’t
matter that Matthias disappears from the story the moment he’s installed among
the Twelve. It doesn’t matter that
you and I make mistakes, and fail.
It matters that God
has put that power into our hands.
It matters that we allow ourselves to be an icon of hope. It matters that we remember that
miracles are possible, and that God makes us a promise to the future of God’s
people.
That’s what
we’re doing when we support each other in serving at PADS – or in the Indian
Princesses and Guides. In sorting
food for the hungry, bringing dinner to a sick friend, doing our ordinary
weekday job with compassion and generous hearts.
Glorifying God
is what we’re called to do when we throw a party to say thank you, when we have
a chance to explain to a co-worker or a friend just what it is that gets us
through a personal crisis or a tough work day, when we walk in the Lilac
Parade.
We make
mistakes, but we also make miracles.
It started with
Jesus’ prayer for the disciples, and it started with Matthias. But God keeps on putting the power and
the responsibility into our hands to be Christ in the world,
and you and I,
like Matthias, become a sacrament of God’s purpose, an icon of the future.
And that’s a
story worth remembering.
