All We Need to Know--April 26, 2021

 All We Need to Know--April 26, 2021

"As it is, we do not see everything in subjection to them, but we do see Jesus, who for a little while was made lower than the angels, now crowned with glory and honor because of the suffering of death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone."  [Hebrews 2:8b-9]

I don't think I realized as a fidgety seventh grader how much theology was soaking into me from the loudspeakers in the orthodontist's office waiting room.  Some of it's only just dawning on me now.

Seriously, I have a handful of memories of my frequent visits in junior high school of waiting in the lobby of the dentist's office before getting my braces adjusted, and it surprises me now looking back just how much of the soundtrack to those memories is from the smooth-jazz/easy listening radio station they had playing through the speakers in the ceiling. (Maybe there's some rule that in a place like a dentist's office where folks anxious, it's good to have mellow-sounding music to ease nerves before the root canal.)  And while some of those songs that are now burned into my memory haven't yielded any deep insights (I'm not really sure what anyone is suppose to get from "If you get caught between the moon and New York City..." or "Turn around, Bright Eyes..."), I find myself today hearing in my memory's music player the voices of Aaron Neville and Linda Ronstadt singing, with utter earnestness, "I don't know much, but I know I love you.... That may be all I need to know."  (Have I gotten it stuck in your head now, too?  I'm sorry.)

It's that idea from the refrain that keeps coming back: "I don't know much, but I know I love you. That may be all I need to know," that I hear as the undercurrent in this passage from Hebrews.  Except, the writer of Hebrews hasn't pinned his hopes on Linda Ronstadt or on Aaron Neville, but rather on Jesus.  He says it this way: there's an awful lot that seems uncertain, chaotic, and out of our grasp right now--but we do see Jesus, and that's enough.  Knowing that he's come through death into resurrection life may just be all we need to know.

Sounds a lot like that song from the dentist's office to me.  As we've been seeing, the writer of Hebrews has been talking about how in the Scriptures, human beings are given the lofty position of being caretakers and stewards of all the created physical world, and that we are honored in God's sight as beings made in God's image.  But to be honest, Hebrews continues, it doesn't always--or often--look like that.  We human beings can also seem small and insignificant, practically powerless and helpless in the face of Big Problems, from natural disasters to worldwide pandemics to the scourge of war and violence to just ordinary sickness, pain, and death.  As much as the Scriptures have said that the created world is entrusted to our stewardship and care, well, a lot of the time it sure doesn't feel like or look like that.  We watch COVID cases spread in pockets of the world on the news, or hear about another friend or loved one with a cancer diagnosis, or fear another terrible hurricane or wildfire season, and we are reminded that it sure looks like a lot of the world we live in is beyond our ability to control or mend or heal.  Sometimes just surviving seems like it is precarious, to be honest.  So how do we keep on holding on to our faith in God if that part of the story seems so... tenuous?

Well, it's back to the song from the orthodontist's lobby: we may not know much, but we do know Jesus.  We don't see everything in the created world in its rightful place or in a good and sustainable balance--but, as the writer to the Hebrews says, we do see Jesus.  And not only do we see Jesus, but we know that he has come through the worst of the worst we humans can do, and yet his risen life has broken open the power of death.  The rest of the world hasn't caught up to that reality, but it is true and real and worthy of staking our lives on.  We may not know much about anything else some days, but we do hold onto the cross and resurrection as our hope.  We may not see the world yet in the fullness of what it can be, and what God intends that it will be, but we do see Jesus.  And that may be all we need to know, at least for today.

On the days when it can feel futile to keep at the Kingdom work we have been given--the work to heal hurting bodies and broken hearts, to create more just and decent communities, to lift up the lowly and vindicate the ones who have been stepped on, to love the outcast and the unwelcomed, and to embody God's way of goodness and grace to all--we look to Jesus, and we see a reason to keep going.  Jesus struggled through even death itself, and in his endurance, has come through into the beginnings of God's promised future.  When we wonder what difference it could possibly make to take the time to encourage someone, or to volunteer a bit of your time to help a homeless family in your community, or to sit with someone who is struggling, or to be a voice that speaks against racism or prejudice, or to share your faith in Jesus with someone, maybe that's where we find the strength: we can say, even without sounding like Aaron Neville, that we may not know much, but we do know the resurrection of Jesus means death doesn't get the last word.  We may not see the world as God dares to dream it will be, but we do see Jesus.  And that, as the song goes, is all we need to know.

Lord Jesus, keep sustaining us in hope as we strive to do the work and live our lives in ways that embody your good reign of mercy and justice.  And let that be enough.