“Meanwhile…”
June 1, 2025
Rev. Rebecca Migliore
* Sometimes it seems like Sunday mornings are huge icebergs—amazing stories of Jesus and his disciples, or coded messages that we have to tease out with a fine tooth comb, or just mind-blowing events, like Easter, or Ascension (the story where Jesus leaves the disciples disappearing into the sky—which we believe happened 10 days before another huge day—Pentecost.) It might leave us feeling a little left out. What spectacular things are happening now? How do we wait and act between the giving of the Spirit (the birthday of the church) and the time when Jesus will “come again”—maranatha!
* And that brought to mind a bit that the late-night comedian Stephen Colbert does that is called “Meanwhile…” Here is how he introduced it in one segment--“On this program we spend so much time chipping away at all the huge icebergs of news, sometimes I like to scrape up all the little ice shavings, and mix them into a frozen news margarita of a segment—Meanwhile…” And then he recounts funny, or stupid, or ridiculous things and ends with “Meanwhile…” And I thought, that’s what life is like for most of us, most of the time. It isn’t going to make the front page, but it is what happened “meanwhile…”
* I think Jesus might have recognized that it would be difficult for his followers to continue on after he was no longer with them in the flesh. They barely seem to understand what he is telling them or teaching them by his actions when he was right in front of their faces. How were they going to carry on afterward? How was the church going to be born—much less spread and get a stronghold in our world?
* The gospel of John and its very talkative Jesus spends a lot of time attempting to set down what Jesus said—so that they could remember. Much of the Priestly Prayer (this very long discourse that Jesus has on his last night with the disciples) that we have been listening to for a bunch of weeks, seems to be a message of comfort not just for that present dire situation, but also for the time when the disciples were away from Jesus, even centuries away from him..
* A message of comfort because it draws this picture of those who follow Jesus as looped into the energy circle of love that runs between what we have named the Father and the Son. That love is so wide that we hear (from the beginning of John’s gospel) that God so loved the world—not just those following Jesus, but the whole world. And so, because of our knowledge (and experience) of that love, we are to love one another—and continue opening the circle ever wider so all might find their way in.
* Yes, there is the message of comfort, but you can’t miss the tiny streak of bitterness that not everyone is going to buy into this view of life. We have talked a little about how this Johannine community felt besieged and might have needed to see things as either/or. You are good or you are bad. You are with us, or you are against us. “Righteous Father, the world does not know you, but I know you, and these [disciples] know that you have sent me. I made your name known to them, and I will make it known, so that the love with which you have loved me may be in them and I in them.”
* 2000 years later, and in the wake of terrible things that have been done in the name of Jesus to other people, we have to see this for what it is—a story told with a bias. And even if we admit that almost every story has some bias in it, we also know that the kernel, what Jesus was trying to communicate to his disciples, to us, is still valid.
So in reading John we have to flag those parts that have been so misused, so misunderstood. And when we think about it, we have to acknowledge that most people, most of life, isn’t in one category or another (good/evil; us/them) but really moves back and forth between the two poles.
* We talk about living in an “in between time,” a “meanwhile” at other times in the church year. During the first weeks of Advent we read the apocalyptic musings of the other gospel writers. This is talk about God’s advent—our waiting and watching-- and not just waiting for Jesus to be born as a child again, but waiting for Jesus, the ascended Jesus, the Jesus who now sits on a throne, to come again, and fulfill the promised reign. We live in the time in between when Jesus was lifted up into the clouds, and the time when Jesus will come back on those clouds, bringing the end of the age.
* All the “boring stuff,” all the “meanwhiles”—basically most of our lives--doesn’t get written down in the gospels or in any other book. This happens even to Jesus. Think of the Apostle’s Creed. “I believe in God, the Father, creator of heaven and earth, and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Spirit, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate…” Did you catch that. We skip from birth to suffering. All of Jesus’ life, his ministry, his telling of parables, his interactions with people, his actions of love, are contained in a single comma, sometimes called the Great Comma. It is a reminder that all our meanwhiles have meaning.
* I found that today’s reading from John’s Revelation (his version of the apocalypse) really spoke to me and how I’m feeling in this time of our present Meanwhile. In the last few weeks I have had two people who I know well share with me how the way our government is acting impacts their lives--how it means they can’t leave the country and necessarily expect to be able to come back in. One gave up an amazing opportunity for travel, and the other is having to watch the aftermath of her father’s serious stroke from afar.
The enormity of grief and pain and fear that this administration is causing makes me mad beyond measure. I even remarked recently that I hoped there was a deep level of hell where someone would go who has been the source of such depth and breadth and width of misery.
* And I read Jesus’ words in Revelation, “See, I am coming soon; my reward is with me, to repay according to everyone’s work. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End.” And I remember the words found in Deuteronomy: “Vengeance is mine says the Lord.” I found comfort in Jesus’ words that there will be a reckoning for “everyone’s work.” And I heard a reminder that in the Meanwhile we are to remember what is the source and the ending of all—our God, and our Lord, Jesus Christ.
* This doesn’t mean that Meanwhile is a time for us to laze by the pool, or stick our heads in the sand, or say, “well, there’s nothing I can do, so I will do nothing.” Because Revelation is written by the Johannine community, we sometimes have to look between the words to hear their meaning. Jesus says, “Blessed are those who wash their robes…” Now he is not talking about cleanliness being next to godliness. The way these robes get washed is by coming into contact with the imperfect world that we still live in. And in Revelation, they even talk about these robes being washed white in blood. In other words, the more the imperfect world thinks it has sullied us, the more blessed we are in Jesus’ eyes. Not to suggest that we go looking for martyrdom, but neither should we stay aloof from the battle which is waging right here and now (in every age).
* Meanwhile, we go about our daily lives, and we struggle with the pettiness and meanness and total disregard for loving God and loving our neighbor as ourselves. So Jesus gives us a word. A mantra. Something to hold onto when the way gets weary. Something to say under our breath to keep us from giving up.
Something to whisper and combine our whispers to a mumble and our mumbles to a voice and our voices to a shout and our shouts into prayers lifted on high. And that word is: Maranatha.
* Yes, Maranatha—meaning “come.” The Book of Revelation ends with these words: “The Spirit and the bride (meaning the church) say, “Come.” And let everyone who hears say, “Come.” And let everyone who is thirsty come. Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift. The one who testifies to these things (even Jesus) says, “Surely I am coming soon.” Amen.
“Come, Lord Jesus!” Maranatha.
* And in the Meanwhile of the ages, we, the followers of Jesus, have recited that prayer. Maranatha, Come, Lord Jesus! Come, because this world still needs to feel your love. Come, because we can’t finish the kingdom without your help. Come, because we sometimes despair at losing the battle. Come, Lord Jesus! Maranatha.
* If we could see the history of our world the way God sees it, all of life from creation to the coming again, is that great comma, that Meanwhile. All those who have thought they were so powerful dim into the background. What shines bright is the message of love—God’s love for a people, and then unbelievably, God’s entrance into our Meanwhile as a baby. For God so loved the world. Those are the icebergs of our story. But if you look carefully, and we know that God sees all, there are twinkles, short and dim though they may be—and that is all the ice shavings of acts of love that we have pulsed into the world. Tiny flickers of reflection of God’s great love for us.
* We are invited to join in the chorus. To bang on our drum. To whisper or mumble or lift our voice or shout—not just with our lips but with our lives.
Maranatha, “Come, Lord Jesus!”
May it be so, Alleluia, Amen.