“See Again”

Sermon by the Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

Acts 9:1-20

May 25, 2025

For many years I had a brightly colored piece of paper hanging on the wall of my office with two words on it: “See again.” It came from an activity during a class I led on Marcus Borg’s book The Heart of Christianity. The leader’s notes from the curriculum asked me to print out pieces of paper with different phrases from one of Borg’s chapters and hang them around the room. Each of them represented something about what it’s like to be “born again,” which was, as you can imagine, a challenging topic in a room full of progressive Christians. We all probably carried some baggage with the label of “born again” so those phrases hung all over helped us explore the concept without shutting down. 

I liked the one that said “see again” so much that I couldn’t bear to throw it away. It hung on my wall for several years and it kept falling off, over and over again. So I had to keep hanging it up over and over again…I have a sneaking suspicion that the not-sticky-enough tape was probably the Spirit’s way of reminding me I needed to see that piece of paper again.

Choosing to follow Jesus is all about seeing again…and again...and again. Once we get so sure of something that we stop seeing it is when I think we’re in danger of losing our way. Instead, we have to keep picking up the messy pieces of our faith that fall off the walls around us, looking at them anew, and deciding whether they should go back on the wall or not. 

This morning, I want to invite us to see this story about Saul again. If you look in the Bible, it probably has a header on it that says something like “The Conversion of Saul” (quick reminder that those headings were not in the original text, but added by modern publishers). Most people would tell you that this is a story about Saul’s conversion from Judaism to Christianity, but that’s not quite right. After all, Christianity didn’t exist yet. The Church didn’t exist yet. Jesus lived and died as a faithful Jew. Some Jews saw him as an important teacher and wanted to follow him. And some Jews, like Saul, didn’t know Jesus. Some of those Jews probably could have cared less about Jesus. Some were probably completely unaware he existed. And a small number, like Saul, were angry at the Jesus-followers. 

Regardless, this story is less about a conversion from one religion to another and more a story about a conversion from violence and anger to openness and peace. 

It makes perfect sense to me that Saul would have to give up his love of persecution and violence in order to follow the Way. How can one follow the Prince of Peace without loving peace?

Of course, there have been countless people who have said they follow Jesus but don’t love peace. There have, sadly, always been Christians who fall into the trap of worshiping violence rather than peace. The siren call of violence is so strong. Not just for Christians, of course, but for all humans. When we are angry and feel like we need to defend….when we are afraid and feel like we need to protect….we so often choose violence, just like Saul did. 

This past week I binged a very violent show on Netflix, American Primeval. Please note that I’m not necessarily recommending it because, hoo boy, was it horrifically difficult to watch. I spent a lot of time with my hands over my face. The setting is the Utah War of 1857 and it’s all about various groups of people mixing and mingling in the place that we now call Utah. So many groups and characters to keep track of - men from the U.S. Army and federal government; men, women, and children from several native nations including the Paiutes and Shoshones; the leaders of the Latter Day Saints and the Mormon Militia doing their bidding; “mountain men” who have come from the East to settle because they’re seeking prosperity or running away from something; everyday women, men, and children from the LDS church who are coming West to seek their Zion. 

Everyone is either fighting for dominance over this land or just trying to keep their head down and disappear. The show has a lot of historical inaccuracies but the truths that the creators were trying to tell about the overarching history of the American West ring true. 

Over and over and over again, these groups act out of fear. Over and over and over again, violence begets violence as they seek retribution for sins committed against them. A few wise women can see where this is all headed - the mother of one of the Shoshone warriors gets it. One of the wives traveling West with a band of Mormons understands. But most don’t really see. They don’t fully understand how hate and fear layered on top of more hate and fear can only lead to death. 

As I watched all these horrors unfold, indiscriminately, across every single group, I found myself thinking again and again, “an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.” Those who worship at the altar of violence reap what they sew. So it has always been and so it will always be, I suppose. 

And perhaps this is what happened to Saul on the road to Damascus that day. Rather than being blinded by the light that shone around him as the voice of the Lord boomed, perhaps he was blinded, instead, by his love of violence. “An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind” - including this persecutor and purveyor of violence, Saul. 

Whether he was truly blinded by the light or because he worshiped at the false altar of violence, Saul does eventually regain his sight. In Damascus, he encounters Ananias, who has been told in a vision to seek out this Saul and help restore his sight. Ananias is understandably nervous about intentionally seeking out Saul, who has a reputation for killing people like Ananias. But the message from God is clear. Ananias has a job to do. 

And so, he goes and looks for Saul so he can help restore his sight. The message he carries with him is not a message of victory. God doesn’t tell Ananias that everything will be okay for Saul and that he’s become a big winner. Instead, the voice of God says that Saul will become an instrument to point people toward the Way of Jesus. The voice says to Ananias, “Go, for Saul is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring my name before gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel; I myself will show him how much he must suffer for the sake of my name.”

When Saul opens his eyes and is baptized, he chooses to see EVERYTHING again. And as he seeks to walk in the Way of Jesus, the call from God is very clear. He is not called to win. He is called to suffer. 

Following Jesus almost always looks like being a loser. Not being a winner. 

Earlier this week I was talking with someone about what Jesus represents. Like, if you had to really boil it down to just one value, one idea, one word - could you? We both felt that the essence of what Christ came to represent might be compassion. 

Not winning, not persecuting, not protecting, not defending. Compassion. 

Jesus did not come to point to himself and proclaim that he’s the best and only way to find God. 

Jesus did not come as a magic trick -  making it oh-so-easy for us to do whatever we want and then say a simple prayer and have all our sins wiped away. 

Jesus did not come so that we could divide and divide and divide again into a million little groups, intent on destroying one another. 

Jesus didn’t come to reinforce our own beliefs or make us all the more certain that our way is the right way. 

Jesus came to urge us to see again. And again. And again. To keep being born anew into the ways of compassion and grace. 

Jesus came as the Prince of Peace. And this story reminds us that following Jesus is never about “breathing threats and murder.” It’s always about compassionately seeking nonviolent paths as we create a more just world. 

The siren call of violence is still so very strong. And you don’t have to look too hard to find people who are pretending to follow Jesus but are actually bowing down at the altar of hate instead. And none of us are immune to the temptation to believe that violence might be an easy solution to complex problems. 

In a world where we’re told that winning is everything, we are mostly called to be losers. In a world where people and groups continue to puff themselves up to make themselves feel bigger and better than everyone else around them, we are called to empty ourselves for the sake of love. We are called to be instruments of peace and compassion. Again and again and again. 

May the scales of violence, fear, and hatred fall from our eyes, O God. May we keep seeking ways to “see again.” To pause, to recenter, to fix eyes once more on Christ’s ways of compassion and peace. May it be so. Amen. 

“Faith-full Five: Scent”

Sermon by the Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

Acts 10:1-7

May 18, 2025

This week we’re continuing our exploration of how we experience the Holy through our five senses. We started this series by pondering taste and heard that lovely story about Jesus making breakfast on the beach for his disciples after the Resurrection. Last week we were in the park and we heard the story of Elijah listening for the presence of God in the sound of slience.

Today we’re moving from our tastebuds to our ears to our noses. Our sense of smell can bring us a lot of pleasure. As I’ve been riding my bike around town this spring I am often surprised by a sudden burst of fragrance when I zoom past a lilac bush. Ahhhhhh. And there are so many other smells in nature that we love - the smell of fresh-cut grass, the scent of rain, the salty air by the beach, that somewhat-indescribable crisp smell of snow, or - one of my very favorites - the smell when you lay down on a bed with sheets that have been dried outside. Ahhhhhh. 

Our sense of smell is also very practical. Without it, food can lose its taste completely, which can be a real bummer. It turns out we rely on smell not only to enjoy our food, but also for our well-being and safety. We humans have evolved with a keen sense of smell to help alert us when food has spoiled or is otherwise unsafe to eat. Just think about what you do when you’re not sure if the milk has gone bad. You sniff it, right? 

And our noses also help us stay safe in other ways - the smell of smoke alerts us that we need to be on the lookout for a fire. In our modern world, we add an odor to natural gas so we’ll know if this invisible danger is present. And those of us who grew up in the Midwest probably all know the smell of a storm coming in. 

Our sense of smell can help human enjoy life and stay safe. But sometimes it can also get people in trouble. I’m thinking of the scents that we carry unknowingly in and on our bodies. People don’t often notice their own smells - like their own laundry detergent or shampoo - because they’re used to them. But when they’re around someone from a different place or culture they may suddenly think, “that’s different than what I’m used to,” and sometimes even feel a bit of fear. 

Humans notice these differences because we’re hardwired to be skeptical of things that seem foreign to us. Hold onto your seats because I’m about to tell you something that might blow your mind. Did you know that babies are racist? It’s kind of hard to say that out loud but study after study has shown it to be true. Babies as young as 6-9 months old associate people who are the same race as them with positive emotions and people who are a different race than them with negative emotions. [1] 

The theory is that we evolved to have a natural skepticism of people from out-groups - people who don’t look, sound, or smell like us. And so, it turns out that even though lots of people like to say that you have to learn racism, it turns out we actually have to UNLEARN racism. We have to be carefully taught to welcome those who don’t look like us, who come from other places, who speak other languages, who cook with different ingredients. 

This means the color-blind approach that so many adults have used around children turns out to not be helpful. Instead, multiple studies show that what children need is adults who will explicitly speak to them about differences - giving them the vocabulary to name and confront racism, naming social and historical contexts that perpetuate white supremacy. When children have this knowledge, they are much more likely to see, name, and hopefully even confront discrimination. [2] 

Fortunately for us, our Bible is full of stories about seeing, naming, and ending discrimination. And today’s story from the Book of Acts is one of those stories. 

The Book of Acts is a sequel to the Gospel of Luke. After Jesus’s resurrection, the story continues, only now the disciples are left alone to try and figure out how to continue living like Jesus in his absence. The author of Acts tells us right up front what is going to unfold. In chapter 1, the Resurrected Christ departs for the final time - we’ll hear that story in just a few weeks on Ascension Sunday. As he’s leaving, he tells the disciples ”You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

And that’s exactly what happens. The Holy Spirit arrives on the scene in wind and flame in Acts 2 with the story of Pentecost. Faithful Jews from all over are gathered in Jerusalem and they receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. The disciples witness to them about the things that Jesus did while here on earth and on that day, about 3,000 Jews were baptized and became followers of The Way. 

A little later, the scene shifts beyond Jerusalem. In chapter 8 Philip goes to Samaria, witnessing to many there and even convincing a magician named Simon who had previously purported to be a prophet himself, to follow The Way. After leaving Samaria, Philip takes the wilderness road to Gaza and encounters an Ethiopian court official, witnesses to him, and baptizes him. 

In chapter 9 Saul has a vision of the Resurrected Christ while on the road to Damascus and is transformed from a persecutor of Jesus’s followers to a zealous follower of The Way. He takes a new name: Paul. And so we see that it’s unfolding just as Jesus said, ”You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

By the time we get to chapter 10 we’ve moved beyond even Samaria. We’re in Caesarea, further north. A port city on the Mediterranean Sea, it was far from Jerusalem not only in terms of distance, but also culture. It was a thoroughly Romanized city, functioning as the Roman capital in Judea. And so we meet Cornelius, who would have certainly been considered an outsider to Jesus’s followers. He’s a Roman soldier and he’s not Jewish. Note that at this point, all of the followers of The Way were faithful Jews. There was no such thing as Christianity yet. It was just Jews following the teachings of Jesus. Gentiles - non-Jews like Cornelius - were not yet a part of the fold. 

Cornelius may be an outsider but he sounds like a good guy. Despite being a soldier in the occupying army, Cornelius was “a devout man who feared God with all his household; he gave alms generously to the people and prayed constantly to God.” Cornelius receives a vision of an angel, who tells him God has noticed his prayers and generosity. The angel tells him to send messengers to Joppa to find a man called Simon Peter. Despite having no idea who Peter was and despite the long walk to Joppa - about 40 miles - Cornelius did what he was told. He sent a group of three servants to look for Peter. 

Meanwhile, Peter is in Joppa and also has a vision. And it’s a doozy. While praying on the roof, his tummy starts grumbling because it’s lunchtime. And he sees a sheet being lowered to the earth, as if held on all four corners. The sheet is filled with all kinds of animals that look tasty. A voice tell Peter to go and eat. But Peter protests, saying, “No way. I know I’m not supposed to eat those animals because they are considered unclean.” And then the voice from heaven says, “What God has made clean, you must not call unclean.” 

This odd vision repeats itself three times and Peter is left scratching his head, unsure of what it all means. Suddenly, the three men from Caesarea arrive outside, looking for a man named Simon Peter. The voice tells Peter that God has sent them and that he should go greet them. He does and when they tell him he needs to come back with them to Caesarea - remember, 40 miles away! - he agrees. 

When they arrive, they discover Cornelius has gathered an audience. He’s brought his friends and family to await Peter’s arrival. That’s how sure he is that Peter is coming. The two men discover that they’ve both had visions - Cornelius was told he’s supposed to listen to this faithful Jew and Peter suddenly understands that the vision he received was about removing the imagined barriers between ethnic groups. He says he knows he’s not supposed to associate with people like Cornelius - Romans, Gentiles, outsiders - but that God showed him that he’s not supposed to call anyone unclean or profane anymore. And so this boundary that existed between these two groups becomes more porous. Both of these highly-esteemed men are shown that they have no reason to fear each other, that God loves them both, and that they are to cooperate and work together and welcome others to The Way of Jesus. 

What happens next is known as the “Gentile Pentecost.” Peter begins preaching to the Gentiles gathered, telling them all about how God’s love is for everyone and the things that Jesus did and taught. The Jews who had come along with Peter are very surprised when the Holy Spirit was poured out on the Gentiles - and the Gentiles begin praising God and speaking in tongues - just as they had seen happen with the Jews back in Jerusalem. But seeing is believing and the Jews come to understand that the Gentiles also belong. Peter says, “Who could withhold the gift of baptism from people who have clearly received the Holy Spirit just like us?” And so the Gentiles are also baptized in the name of Jesus, just as the Jews in Jerusalem had been.  

I can imagine them all gathering around a table together later that evening - the smells of foods from their two different cultures mixing and mingling. Maybe they introduced each other to favorite jokes from their own groups that the others had never heard before. Perhaps they discovered similar songs or stories that they all knew. 

It’s not a happily-ever-after ending. The Book of Acts goes on to describe a lot of fighting between leaders of The Way about this very issue. Can faithful Jews sit at tables with Gentles and share a meal? Is it really okay to welcome outsiders into the group? How do we combine different groups into one big group where everyone feels valued and respected?

The leaders in the early Church certainly didn’t unlearn their fear of outsiders perfectly or easily. And it is, unfortunately, very clear that this is a lesson we are still trying to learn in the Church today. But the expectation of the Holy Spirit is clear: God’s love is poured out on everyone. Absolutely everyone. And we are invited - no, commanded - to gather at tables with dishes that we’ve never eaten before, dishes that might even smell funny to us at first, with open hearts, ready to taste and see (and small) the presence of Christ in every person we meet. 

May it be so. 

NOTES:

[1] 

https://www.utoronto.ca/news/racial-bias-may-begin-babies-six-months-u-t-research-reveals

https://time.com/67092/baby-racists-survival-strategy/ 

https://www.bu.edu/articles/2020/if-babies-and-toddlers-can-detect-race-why-do-so-many-parents-avoid-talking-about-it/

[2] 

https://www.newsweek.com/even-babies-discriminate-nurtureshock-excerpt-79233 

https://www.psychologicalscience.org/news/releases/in-blind-pursuit-of-racial-equality.html?utm_source=chatgpt.com 

https://www.nbcnews.com/think/opinion/how-raise-anti-racist-babies-according-psychology-ncna1232031

“Let those with ears to hear listen”

Sermon by the Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

1 Kings 19:9-13

May 11, 2025

Last week in worship we talked about experiencing the Holy through taste and the kids gathered up a special Bible snack bag to take to Fellowship Hour. Several people in the congregation brought along favorite snacks to share, which reminded us of the story of Elijah running for his life in First Kings. Exhausted and overwhelmed, he sat down under a tree and wished for death. But then a messenger from God came and told him to do what? Have a snack and take a nap. He did and then he felt like he could keep going. 

The story we heard today comes immediately after that - Elijah is no longer desperately wishing for death, but he’s still feeling defeated and a bit abandoned by God. He’s traveled for 40 days and 40 nights and stops to rest in a cave at Mount Horeb. Again, he hears a Divine Word. This time telling him to “go out and stand on the mountain because the Lord is about to pass by.” The story goes that a great wind blows on the mountain, but God is not there. And then there’s an earthquake and a fire, but God is not there. Finally, Elijah perceives the sound of “sheer silence” and rises to go to the month of the cave and listen for the voice of God. 

How do we listen for God’s movement in our world? Lord knows our ears are filled with plenty of noise. TVs, traffic, birds singing, kids playing, podcasters pontificating, TikToks repeating. And that’s just the external noise. My guess is most of us also have a strong internal monologue, too - songs running through our heads on repeat, items we don’t want to forget, replaying conversations over and over, practicing conversations we don’t want to have, that kind of thing. 

How, in the midst of all this sound, do we carve out space to listen for God? 

When I was a young girl, I was taught that prayer is “talking to God.” And that is one kind of prayer. But if we focus so much on the talking part, we lose track of how important it is to listen for the Spirit’s movement in our lives. This is why I like to think of prayer as anything that orients us to God’s presence. We don’t even have to use words. We can simply turn our spirits toward The Spirit and seek a connection with Love. And we all know that listening well is an important part of feeling truly connected to another spirit, isn’t it? 

As we orient ourselves toward God and try to open our ears to listen, we’re likely to find that God sometimes speaks in a whisper and sometimes a shout. Sometimes the words are clear and other times we can’t quite make them out. We might hear God speaking to us through a friend or even the song of a bird or the breeze. And often, as Elijah found on the mountain, God comes to us in the sound of sheer silence. 

I’ve been reading this book by a spiritual teacher named Adyashanti. Although he was trained in Zen Buddhism, he is also very drawn to Jesus and this particular book is called Resurrecting Jesus: Embodying the Spirit of a Revolutionary Mystic. Learning about Jesus from a spiritual teacher who isn’t Christian is very enlightening. But the part of his story I wanted to share with you today isn’t so much about Jesus, it’s just about listening for God. 

Adyashanti tells a story about how, after years of practicing Zen, it started to feel a bit dry to him. About this time he picked up the autobiography of St. Therese of Liseaux. He fell in love with the way she expressed her open-hearted love for God and he experienced a bit of a spiritual reawakening as he felt his own heart opened. 

He continues: 

Not long after my encounter with St. Therese, I had a profound experience while at a Zen retreat. Zen retreats are very strenuous, with as many as fifteen forty-minute periods of meditation each day, so it required a lot of silent sitting, a lot of being in quiet. I had been to Zen retreats before and had just begun to think I was getting good at it when I showed up at this seven-day retreat. I was really looking forward to being there, but as the retreat unfolded, something started to go haywire. It began to turn into a nightmare. I felt an intense sense of discomfort, and I had no idea why it was happening. I felt a feeling of profound confinement, like a caged animal, and I wanted to break out.

Now by that time I knew how to sit in meditation through all sorts of different states of mind and emotions, and I had long since realized sometimes you just have to sit through these discomforts. But this really had me stumped; I was so profoundly emotionally uncomfortable, with intense anxiety and fight-or-flight symptoms going on inside me. At a certain point I literally couldn't take it any more. I just cracked. It was devastating for me; I felt humiliated in a very profound way. And so I wrote a little note to say that I was leaving, and when everybody else was meditating, I tacked it up onto the teacher's door. You weren't supposed to leave without seeing the teacher in person, but I was so humiliated that I just couldn't face him. I left the note and got in my car and drove home.

I was so devastated that I really thought that this was the end of my quest. I thought to myself: Well, you gave it a good five or six years, you really put yourself all into it, but you failed. You're not cut out for this; throw in the towel. I was twenty-five years old, and I was certain, absolutely certain, that that was the end of my spiritual search. So I drove home thinking it was all over, but when I pulled up at my house, a little voice in my head said, "Just go right through the front door and out the back, sit down in your meditation hut and meditate." I'd learned to trust that still small voice in my head over the years. It didn't make any sense to me because I was sure that this was the end of my spiritual search, that it was all over, but I just did what the voice said. I literally walked from the car, in the front door, straight through the house to the back door and into my meditation hut.

No sooner did I sit down than that spiritual heart—the heart of love I'd first experienced reading St. Therese - literally exploded. It wouldn't even be true to say it expanded; it was like an explosion in my chest. I went from a state of despondency, certain that my whole spiritual search was over and I had failed, this immensity of love, of a well-being beyond anything I had ever experienced. And then I heard these words in my mind, as if the God of the Bible was talking, and the voice said, "This is how I love you, and this is how you shall love all beings and all things." It literally felt like the voice of God, and that explosion of the heart changed everything.

That night the teacher from the Zen temple called me up, and asked, "So, what happened?" I said, "I don't know!" He asked, "Why don't you come back?" and I said, "Ok, I'll be back tomorrow!" That was the end of the conversation; it was literally that fast, because I didn't have any reservations about going back. I didn't necessarily feel that my spiritual life was back on track, but in this immensity of love that I'd experienced, I felt like a feather in the wind. Come back? Ok, I'll go back.

So I drove back to the temple, and as I was about to enter the meditation hall, I saw the retreat leader, the one who holds people to the rules. At the door of the hall, this monk looked me straight in the eyes and said, "You shouldn't have left, and you shouldn't have come back." And, you know, those were the best words he ever could have said, because I saw that, when he spoke, nothing in me budged-that love didn't shrink, didn't diminish, didn't move one iota. In fact, I just wanted to throw my arms around him and kiss him, because he showed me that nothing could budge what I was experiencing.

This little story is so relatable and timeless. Here’s a person who is doing their best to tune their ears to listen for God in the world around them. Sometimes he finds it by seeking silence - and sometimes that just doesn’t work. He gives up on his retreat and returns home, embarrassed and despondent. And then, when he least expects it - a nudge, a whisper - “Go. Sit.” And so he does. He barely sits down and - BOOM - an explosion of Love. He feels it before he hears it - just feels the Love of God washing over him. It’s overwhelming. And THEN the voice, explaining, “This is how I love you, and this is how you shall love all beings and all things." Adya says, “It literally felt like the voice of God, and that explosion of the heart changed everything.” And finally, he picks up the phone when his teacher from the retreat center calls - still open and listening. It feels right to return to the retreat, and so he does. And when he gets there, he is faced with a person who has been given formal spiritual authority in this setting. This person scolds him, but Adya is so sure of what he’s already heard from God that he can’t be bothered to listen. 

Beloveds, it is my prayer for you that you will go into the world with open ears and open hearts. Whether you hear God while sitting on a mat for 12 hours a day at a retreat center or in the silence of your own heart - whether you pick up the phone and find God on the other end or you keep waiting for a call that never seems to come - whether you run away from a spiritual encounter embarassed or transformed - may you keep listening for Love. 

May all of us with ears to hear listen. Amen. 

“Because They Knew”

Sermon by the Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS

John 21:1-14

May 4, 2025

Do you know about the “hand model” of your brain? Basically, this is your brain. This is your amygdala, which functions as our Guard Dog. And this is your pre-frontal cortex, aka the Wise Owl. When we get stressed and the Guard Dog starts barking and sounding the alarm, we can panic. Our Wise Owl flies away and everything gets disconnected and jumbled. We can’t think straight. In a situation where the danger is real, we want that Guard Dog to bark loudly so we’ll pay attention. But many of us often can’t seem to get that Guard Dog to hush up, even when nothing scary is actually happening. If she barks loud enough we might “flip our lids” - which might look like blanking out totally, being aggressive, having a panic attack, shutting down, or melting down. [1] 

If we can unflip our lid, our brain can come back together and we can think more clearly. But how to do this? 

One of my favorite techniques for helping someone who is panicked or overwhelmed is called 5-4-3-2-1. [2] When you start to feel your thoughts racing and then your heart pounds out of your chest or you can’t catch a breath, you can name five things you can see, four things you can hear, three things you can feel, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. Like most things, this is easier if you practice when you’re NOT panicked, so let’s give it a try now. 

Hold up one hand with all 5 fingers extended - yes, you on Zoom, too - we’ll take about a minute of silence and you can silently name things to yourself. As you do, put a finger down for each part and that way I’ll know when you’re done. (Fingers to show) Five things you can see, four things you can hear, three things you can feel, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. Ready, let’s try it. (5…4….3….2….1)

This simple exercise can interrupt our fight-flight-freeze responses. Instead of staying put in our amygdala, paying attention to what we can sense in the present moment moves us into our pre-frontal cortex which helps ground us in the present moment. 

“This is interesting, Pastor Caela, but what does it have to do with God?” 

Lots of things, actually. For starters, God made our incredible brains and cares about our bodies. That Holy Spirit of Love is a source of strength and calm that is always available to us. And this simple technique that we can understand through brain science can also function as a type of prayer. Prayer, after all, is anything we do that orients us to the presence of God in our lives. Being centered in our bodies, grounded in the present moment, aware of the beauty around us at any given moment can certainly be prayer. 

This type of prayer can even be useful when we’re NOT panicked. It can also allow us to prayerfully pause and connect to a sense of gratitude for the gift of simply being alive at this very moment in time. This Eastertide we’re going to be exploring how our five senses can help us connect with the Spirit in our daily lives. 

One of the ways we can use our five senses to pray is reading the Bible through this 5-4-3-2-1 lens. So many of our sacred stories seem designed to connect deeply with all five of our senses. And today’s passage is certainly a feast for all our senses.

I’m going to read today’s text from the Gospel of John again and, as I do so, I invite you to take note of the things you see, hear, feel, smell, and even taste in today’s text. Feel free to jot them down if you want. We’re going to share them after the reading. 

After these things Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias, and he showed himself in this way. Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his disciples. Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We will go with you.” They went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing.

Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach, but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They answered him, “No.” He said to them, “Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on his outer garment, for he had taken it off, and jumped into the sea. But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, only about a hundred yards off.

When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them, and though there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, “Who are you?” because they knew it was the Lord. Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them and did the same with the fish. This was now the third time that Jesus appeared to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.

What do we experience with our senses in this story? Let’s see if we can name…

Five things we can see

Four things we can hear

Three things we can feel

Two things we can smell

One thing we can taste

Now that you’ve connected this story to your senses, you might hear it differently in the future. That’s what happened to me. I once heard Anna Carter Florence preach a sermon on this text where she described Jesus grilling fish for his disciples in great detail. I could see the warmth of the fire at sunrise on that beach. I could hear the popping of the wood and flames. I could feel heat of the fire as I warmed my hands. I could smell the smoke as it lingered. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on breakfast as it came right off the grill. I never heard this story the same way again.

Maybe this is why so many of our sacred stories lend themselves to sensory exploration. We experience the truth of these stories not just as an intellectual exercise but with the fullness of our bodies. They become a part of us. 

And perhaps that’s why Jesus understood the importance of gathering around tables with his disciples. Eating and drinking - tasting the fruits of the vine and the field - was, for Jesus, not only about physical nourishment but about a reminder of our connection to the Earth and our unbreakable connection to Jesus himself. 

I suppose this is why there are so many stories that resemble Communion in our Bible. There’s the one we all think of, of course, when Jesus gathered with his disciples in Jerusalem. But did you ever notice that in the story of the feeding the 5,000 Jesus also “took, blessed, broke, and shared” the bread with all who were gathered? A little premonition of Communion. 

And after Easter when Christ gathered at the table with the two disciples in Emmaus we are told he was known to them fully in the breaking of the bread. Again, echoes of Communion. 

And today’s story, too, is one that feels like Communion. Loaves and fishes again. Christ serving a meal again. Taking, blessing, breaking, sharing. 

In this shared meal, the disciples knew it was him. Which is kind of unusual, actually. I think this may be the only post-Resurrection story where they just knew. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” Now none of the disciples dared to ask him, “Who are you?” because they knew it was the Lord.

We, too, are invited to know that we are encountering the Risen Christ when we come to the table for Communion. Love invites us. Love welcomes us. Love is made known to us in the breaking of the bread. And we know - with the fullness of our senses - that Love is present among us as we gather. We see the face of Christ in our neighbor. Strangers have felt a sense of unity. Enemies have been known to forget their anger. From time to time we even experience a connection across the miles and throughout time when we feel that mysterious and awe-inspiring sense of unity at Christ’s table. 

Far too often, I think, Christians have argued about the rules for taking Communion. Or what, precisely, it means. And I suppose it’s only natural to want to understand what the gift of Holy Communion means. But if we worry too much about the mechanics of it all or gatekeep who is welcome - if we engage with it ONLY up here, we miss the knowing that comes from experiencing it down here. 

How fortunate we are to be loved by the One who is made known to us in the breaking of the bread. How beautiful it is to be invited into unity with Christ through this act of Communion. As the disciples knew on the beach at the Sea of Tiberias, may we, too, truly know each time we gather at the table. 

May it be so. 

[1] Brain model from Dan Siegel. Many thanks to Sara at The Responsive Counselor for these fun animal names for our brain parts. https://theresponsivecounselor.com/2021/06/teaching-kids-about-flipping-their-lids.html 

[2] Here’s a nice explanation of the 5-4-3-2-1 technique:

https://www.calm.com/blog/5-4-3-2-1-a-simple-exercise-to-calm-the-mind