05/11/2026
Shane's Sermon for Easter 6
“Hope” is the thing with feathers -
That perches in the soul -
And sings the tune without the words -
And never stops - at all -
And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -
And sore must be the storm -
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm -
I’ve heard it in the chillest land -
And on the strangest Sea -
Yet - never - in Extremity,
It asked a crumb - of me.
Emily Dickinson’s poem is famous, though few quote it beyond the first verse. I’m not much of a poetry person, and I have struggled to grasp this poem. I think maybe that’s part of the point; maybe grasping isn’t what poetry is about. And maybe, Dickinson is saying, it’s not what hope is about either.
Whatever the meaning, we need hope right now.
All around us are signs of trouble and destruction. Millions are suffering from war, from famine, from being treated as surplus bodies. Others suffer attacks on their dignity and their membership in the human family. Our environment is rapidly heading toward collapse.
And, in the midst of that, the Christianity that we know has already become a minority position. For many on both the political left and right, Christianity is seen as irrelevant at best, and toxic at worst. White Christian nationalism, a cruel inversion of Jesus’ teaching, is being actively advocated by those in power in this country. The love that Jesus taught, the way he taught his disciples to live, is seen by many as either quaint or dangerous, standing in the way of a brave new world of eugenics and racial supremacy.
We need hope. We are not the first people who have needed it; hope is always needed, like oxygen. We have the records of people’s suffering, and also of their response to that. What sustains them in those times?
In his letter, Peter advises his community to stand firm in the face of suffering. “Do not fear what they fear, and do not be intimidated,” he says. “Always be ready to give an accounting for the hope that is in you.”
The hope that is in you. Or, as it can be translated, the hope that is among you, among us.
But what is this hope? It’s not optimism. Hope doesn’t deny the suffering, or downplay it or justify it, all the things we do to reduce it.
Hope stands in the midst of trouble, indestructible, always bobbing back up when it is thrust down. As a movie title once put it, hope floats.
And this hope is not an accessory, to be taken on or put off. This hope is implanted in you, in me, in the community of believers. It is a gift from God, from Jesus, through the Holy Spirit.
When Jesus knew his time was coming, he promised the disciples that his death would not be the end. I doubt that they heard him at first; certainly they couldn’t understand. And, at the resurrection, they may have thought that this was what he meant; he died, but now he’s back. But Jesus knows that is not the end of this story, this story without end.
He will send them another Paraclete. Another Advocate, Comforter, Counselor; all this is wrapped up in this word, Paraclete. When Jesus mentions “another,” we are meant to notice: there’s been one before this! Indeed; Jesus is the first Paraclete, the first one called alongside them to teach and strengthen and comfort disciples. The Spirit that is coming is all of this, without the incarnate presence. Jesus is planting hope in them.
I imagine the original disciples felt lost without the physical presence, but they will experience the love and guidance again. They will know Jesus in a new way.
What a gift for us! The coming of the Spirit in their time opened the door for us to know Jesus too, to learn and be strengthened and comforted as they were. The Spirit that breathed over the earth, that created all that is, comes to us now as the Spirit of Jesus.
Jesus stresses that the Spirit will come, not to individuals with particular gifts, but to the community. All the “yous” here are plural. Its purpose is not to deliver private mystical experiences, or to elevate some over others; the Spirit comes to uphold the community of believers.
Together, we receive the Spirit.
Together, we continue to believe.
Together, we can stand in hope.
Together, we continue to love.
When Jesus tells us to keep his commandments, we needn’t look for a laundry list of observances or prohibitions. All we need to do, he says, is to love one another. That is his commandment. If we want to know him, if we want access to that love, we will love. In loving one another, we will find God’s love. It’s always there, it always will be, but we can cut ourselves off.
At the beginning of this chapter, Jesus tells the disciples, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me.” Not believing like an assertion, an idea, but believing like trusting, relying on. This believing, this faith, can sustain us through the hard times. In the end, it is all that can.
Faith, hope, and love abide. It’s really that simple. Our faith is not in a particular building, a particular denomination or way of worship, but in the living God in whom we live and move and have our being. Whatever face of God we address - whether Creator, or Jesus, or Holy Spirit - we can put our trust in God, we can hope in God, we can love in and through God.
May God uphold us and encourage us to continue in hope. Amen.
