Feast of the Lamb and the Praise of All Creatures

Here is my sermon given on May 1, 2022 at St Christopher Community Church, Steamboat Island, Washington. St. C. is a federated Episcopal-Lutheran parish, where I was grateful to serve as guest preacher. The pictures are from the grounds around the church building.

You remain invited to stop by my workshop on Tuesday and Friday from 2-5pm. Call or write ahead please. I have a few wood projects going, including a table, a candle holder and a wooden box. You are can help, we could come up with a woodworking lesson for you, or just visit. I also have spruce (in pots, $10) and chestnut trees (free) available for planting.

Peace to you.

worship space at St Christopher, Steamboat Island

Third Sunday of Easter, May 1, 2022

(link to the scripture readings appointed for this Sunday)

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For some reason, God has fashioned the world to be a messy and glorious feast, strangely edible to borrow a phrase from the outdoor writer steven rinella. Not only has the holy one made this world to host such a feast, but has filled the world with praise, a dance, a gathering of worship where all creatures are present.

This is something that the book of revelation tries to show us. When ‘revelation’ comes around, we may get a little nervous. We are rightly suspicious of ‘end times’ theology that justifies war and the disregard of the earth. But I’d like us to look again to see what John saw. This reading describes the feast and praise God intends for all creatures, the cosmos, and certainly this earth where we dwell.

evergreen huckleberry in bloom

Now, John seems to stress a point about the vision he received. He saw all creatures, in heaven, and the earth, and under the earth, and in the sea, and everything in it. All over, all creatures, all of them. I was out walking along budd inlet recently, and saw a few of them myself. I watched three terns soar, dip, dance through the air, then dive quite precisely down into the water, and rise with a silvery fish in their mouths. The gulls would wail whenever this happened-probably ‘cause they hoped to get some fish themselves-and some sea lions were watching lazily at distance. And then they’d do it all again. That little glimpse says more about what John saw, and what God has made, than lurid tales of the end times. It’s a glimpse, a hint of fullness of all creatures gathered round the Lamb in heavenly worship.

They and we join in the cries of praise, the dancing through the wind and water, on the earth and in everything. They and we are nourished and sustained by God, sometimes at great cost. They and we are nourished in the life, suffering, and rising to life anew of the Lamb, Jesus Christ, and in his eternal praise.

spider on emerging bigleaf maple sapling

And they and we, at least some of us, go fishing too. Jesus early disciples included more than a few fishers. And in the reading today, these fishermen confront the unknown, the anxious and uncertain life ahead, now that their master has been executed. They they reach for what they know, their familiar trade and the waters they knew well. “I’m going fishing,” says Peter. And they fish all night, and catch nothing. And that is when  Jesus comes to meet them, on the shore, weary, by the waters they knew so well, and had sustained them. And Jesus directs the disciples to put down their nets on the right side of the boat, where they will find some fish. They listened to this fishing tip from a stranger. And up came a catch. “It is the Lord!” Hearing this, Peter, naked to swim the end of the net back to the boat, naked a little like Adam when he heard God walking in the garden, jumped into the water, like he felt the need to hide. He was a skillful diver, like the terns. And like them, he rises from hiding, from the water, into forgiveness, into new life, new sight, new calling.

They and we receive new life, deeper calling, sight according to the light of the resurrection. Like Paul, like Peter, like John, we find our encounter with this light changes our wrongdoing, regrets, foolishness and grief into dancing (Ps. 30:12), drawing us into a feast and praise attended by all creation. We are invited to a meal Jesus prepares near to us.

We can see and taste this meal even now. ‘Come and have breakfast.’ Jesus has a fire burning on the shore, and asks the disciples, you among them, to bring some of the fish they caught. Imagine Jesus along a gravelly shore of eld or totten inlet. It is early morning. Jesus already has coffee brewed for your cold, wet body, and a fire burning. Quite surprisingly, he has maple bars, and also roasted camas bulbs that someone had shown him to gather from the glacial prairie nearby. You bring a surprise catch of a steelhead. Jesus takes the steelhead, gives thanks, splits and trusses it up in green willow sticks bound in a thick salmonberry cane, and sets it over the fire to roast. And when its all ready, Jesus gives you fish, and gives you bread.

do you see the blacktail deer path?

We live nourished by what the risen Lord feeds us, invited into this feast, this praise. And Jesus calls us, bids us follow. His words to Peter resound still for us along the waters of the puget sound and its tributaries, the land and its unique plant, animal and human neighbors. “Feed my sheep, feed my lambs, tend my sheep.” What shall we do to honor, feed, tend the past and present inhabitants and stewards of this land and these waters, and help one another to live on it well? And what shall we do to invite them to join in the feast and the song of praise prepared by God for all creatures?