Gospel of John

Pretzel Logs and a Power Tool

John 20:19-23

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors were locked where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”


When Katelyn and I lived in New Jersey, we fell in love with Pennsylvania Dutch markets. Often hidden in unassuming strip malls, these vibrant markets were full of different vendors selling the most delicious food. The one closest to us was only open three days a week so we didn’t get to go often, but we loved it when we got the chance. We’d grab a few items we’d need for the week and on the way out, get one very special treat: a pretzel log. We’d watch as they rolled the dough, stuffed them with all sorts of unhealthy goodness, and placed them in the oven, our mouths watering the whole time.

One day after helping a friend move, I was near the market and swung in for lunch. Instantly the smell of a pretzel log, overflowing with cheese and bacon, lured me to the booth. I bought two logs with good intentions: I would eat mine now and have Katelyn’s waiting for her when she woke up to go to work. Well I ate mine on the way home.

And then by some irresistible force, the second pretzel log called out to me. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help myself. I tore into that other pretzel, polishing it off faster than the first, left the bag on the counter and proceeded to study with a full belly. Later that day when Katelyn woke up for work, a night shift nurse at the time, solely supporting us through seminary, she saw the bag. She asked if I went to the market and if so why I didn’t bring her back something. A rush of guilt came over me. I told every excuse I could think of. I didn’t know what you would want. I wasn’t sure if they had what you liked. But she saw through my every excuse. She picked up the bag, put it in the trash, and simply said, “we both know you’re wrong, but I forgive you.”

The resurrected Jesus says to his disciples, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them. If you retain the sins of any, they are retained”. For most of us, forgiveness is a nice idea. It’s something we want to practice, but it’s also really hard. And, if we are honest, we don’t always know what it is or how to do it. Forgiveness is not just forgetting what took place. We don’t suddenly stop remembering the hurt that happened to us nor should we.

We may pretend to, but the harm will reappear, likely causing as much hurt as the first time around. Forgiveness isn’t wrapping ourselves in bandages of time, waiting until the wounds have scarred. Sometimes that can help, but there is hurt we can cause or receive that time alone cannot heal. Forgiveness requires more than just the passing of hours, days, or years.

And forgiveness isn’t merely the words, “I forgive you”; it requires action on the part of both the forgiver and the sinner.

So back to the pretzel log story. It sounds like such a small example, but here she was working night shift, supporting her husband so he can go to class and read and write papers 24/7,

and he took from her the one thing that would have brightened up her day just a little bit on her way to a job she did not like. Yet, she didn’t scold me, or punish me, or demand I get her another pretzel log, all things she was in the right to do.

Instead, She gave up those rights, which is the first action required in forgiveness. And after she gave up her rights, she gave notice of my sin. “We both know you're wrong”, she said to me in a calm, almost sly, manner. She didn’t pile on the guilt or yell, “how dare you eat the pretzel log you bought with my money!” which was true! She simply told me what I did was wrong; the second action of forgiveness.

Finally, she gave me a gift, namely love when I didn’t deserve it and expected nothing in return.

Like a tool, she used forgiveness to put back together our fractured relationship that I had severed with my selfish sin. And that’s what forgiveness is: giving up rights, giving notice, and giving gifts; A tool that rebuilds a broken relationship.

We see and experience this forgiveness best in Jesus Christ. Becoming fleshing, he gave up his rights, as Ephesians 2 says “he emptied himself taking the form of a slave, assuming human likeness. And being found in appearance as a human, he humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death - even death on a cross”.

And it’s there on the cross that he gave notice of our sins because that’s what put him there; his full of mercy and justice and love, shows the depth of sin in and around us. And yet, from the cross and in his resurrection he gave gifts: gifts of grace and hope and life eternal when we deserved none of it. “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do”. “As much as you could sin, so much did Jesus forgive you”. Always has. Always will.

Yet, some of us have experienced more serious sins than a stolen pretzel log; we’ve been hurt in ways or been hurt too many times, that we are unsure if we can forgive. After all, we aren’t Jesus. I agree with Walt Wangerin who said,

“This is the human predicament: we are able to sin infinitely against one another, but we are able to forgive only finitely. Left to ourselves alone, forgiveness will run out long before the sinning does [because] we are not able to forgive equal to another’s sinning - not when such giving must come solely from ourselves.”

Thankfully, forgiveness is not just a tool able to put ruptured relationships back together, but a power tool with a source of power that comes from outside of ourselves. “Receive the Holy Spirit”, Jesus said to his disciples as he filled their lungs with his very presence. That’s the power, the true source that enables us to forgive the sins of others. It’s the Holy Spirit, dwelling in you, that makes known Jesus’ limitless forgiveness for you; no matter the mistakes you’ve made, the choices you chose, or the hurt you’ve caused. Jesus is the well of forgiveness that never runs dry.

And once you know once you have experienced that balm for your sin sick soul, you also are able to share that forgiveness with your spouse, your friend, your parent, your child, your neighbor, and even your enemies. To be clear, when Jesus commissions the disciples and us to forgive or retain sins, he doesn’t make us divine agents able to produce forgiveness that reconciles a relationship between someone else and God. Only Jesus does that and it’s already been done. That’s why during the absolution in worship the pastor “declares” your forgiveness;

I get to tell you the good news, but it’s Christ who’s actually done the work.

The forgiveness that Jesus commissions the disciples for, and us for, is the forgiveness that reconciles relationships between individuals. There are other types of forgiveness that are different, such as forgiveness between races or institutions or nations; but that’s another sermon for another time.

For this sermon, it's enough to say that like the disciples, we too have been given what we need to forgive. But whether we do it or not, whether we forgive or retain is up to us. And the good news, or bad news depending on how you look at it, is that ultimately God forgives all the sin and reconciles all things to God’s self anyway, whether it’s in this life or the life to come. So why retain them?

Instead, offer a pretzel log, use that power tool of forgiveness, and repair what’s been broken.


Sabbatical Send-Off

John 17:1-11

After Jesus had spoken these words, he looked up to heaven and said, “Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son so that the Son may glorify you, since you have given him authority over all people, to give eternal life to all whom you have given him. And this is eternal life, that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent. I glorified you on earth by finishing the work that you gave me to do. So now, Father, glorify me in your own presence with the glory that I had in your presence before the world existed.

“I have made your name known to those whom you gave me from the world. They were yours, and you gave them to me, and they have kept your word. Now they know that everything you have given me is from you; for the words that you gave to me I have given to them, and they have received them and know in truth that I came from you; and they have believed that you sent me. I am asking on their behalf; I am not asking on behalf of the world, but on behalf of those whom you gave me, because they are yours. All mine are yours, and yours are mine; and I have been glorified in them.

And now I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one.”


Smarter people than me call this bit of John’s Gospel – and what we’ve been hearing in fits and starts the last couple of weeks, actually – they call it Jesus’ “Farewell Discourse.” There are chapters of it in the Gospel of John … these parting and final words of his before he heads off to his crucifixion. And it’s a prayer: intimate words, intended for God, the Father, but overheard, presumably, by someone close by with a notepad, apparently – possibly someone seated with him at the table of the Last Supper in that Upper Room, sometime before the Cross and Calvary and all of the ugliness he knew was waiting for him there.

I’m not expecting much ugliness in the next couple of months, but it seems like a thing that I get to reflect on Jesus’ “Farewell Discourse” as I prepare to take my Sabbatical leave for the summer. So…

1. First of all, perspective. I’m not Jesus so, while I know there’s some level of anxiety about my being gone for the summer, the weight of what Jesus is up to puts all of that into a different light and a healthier perspective, for all of us, I hope.

My time away will be lengthy, for sure. It’s more than three days, but it’s not quite 2,000 years, either. But still, lots of things can happen in your lives and in my life over the course of these summer months. It might be difficult to miss some of that – for me as much as for you, remember – but, kind of like Jesus, I have every intention of returning. I promise. I’ll be back.

2. Secondly, the point of it all for me. What I get to do is step away from being on call and on task and just plain “on,” in every way that that happens for a pastor – especially for a pastor in a busy, active, healthy, growing congregation like ours. I could try to describe what that looks like and feels like and really is like, here, but I won’t for a couple of reasons. A lot of you already understand that, for which I am grateful. Some of you might not believe it, if I tried to explain it. And others might think I was whining or complaining about my job – which is so very much not the case.

I love my work. And what’s more, I love my work in this place in ways I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t and couldn’t love my work anywhere else, at this point in my life.

But, as one of my friends who received the same grant once said, he felt like he had been running the same lap around the track with his ministry, after a time. He also said he felt like he was running out of magic tricks. If you all haven’t noticed that, or felt that, or wondered about that sort of thing around here, I’m glad and grateful for that, too. But I know what my friend means.

I’m looking forward, not so much to a break from the ministry I love and am still called to, but I’m looking forward to ways this time away means to refill the well of my creativity, enthusiasm and joy for what’s to come.

3. The point of it all for my family. The Havels have been on a physical, emotional, spiritual marathon the last couple of years. Christa’s cancer was icing on the same crappy COVID cake we all wrestled with. And I know so many of you have wrestled and struggled and suffered in your own ways, too, and I’ve been blessed to wrestle with you through some of that.

And I know all of this is relative. I’m not comparing or competing for biggest mole-hill or mountain, here. But one thing I’ve tried to learn these last couple of years is to take the same advice I have and would give to any of you – some of which is to say “yes” to the good and gracious stuff more often and more readily, because those opportunities can be fleeting … few and far between … and because we may not be able to make choices about them next week, or next year, or the next time they present themselves.

4. The point of it all for you – for us – and for our ministry together. Among other things we’ll be learning together … separately … these next few months about the hard, holy stuff of race, anti-racism and social justice. I’m so grateful that so many of you have signed up for the book studies that Francia Kissel and Pastor Cogan will lead. There are only three spots left for the Interrupting Racism workshops the renewal grant has made available, which is potentially life-changing for those who will participate. Pastor Cogan is planning a field trip to the Freedom Center in Cincinnati, with the youth this summer. And we have some amazing preachers lined up to inspire our worship throughout all of this time. You won’t want to miss hearing from them – and I’ll be praying that you don’t.

And, on a more general note, I hope you’ll look and pray and plan for ways to step up and to step into our life together in some new ways while I’m away. (Please pray about adding one new thing to your Time and Talent offerings for the year ahead, if you haven’t already.) Look for ways to show Pastor Cogan the ropes around here. And look for opportunities to receive, welcome and let him be our Pastor. He’s “the whole loaf of bread,” as Janis Janelsins used to say about me and we are lucky to have him among us. I’m not Jesus and he isn’t the Holy Spirit, but I’m not leaving you orphaned. You’re in good, capable, careful, faithful, pastoral hands. I believe it’s no coincidence that Pastor Cogan’s arrival coincides with my departure the way that it has and does and will.

5. And lastly, Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. There are congregations who resist and refuse the practice of Sabbatical for their pastors. It’s an expression of grace that’s too much for too many. It’s a gift that’s too generous for some to give – even when Eli Lilly is paying the bill. But it’s something we’ve made part of our life together because Sabbath is God’s command for God’s children … because we’ve experienced the blessing it brings to bear on our life together … and because it is an exercise in faith and grace and generosity and gratitude.

And, even though I’m proud to tell others about a congregation like ours that lets this happen, I receive your support and encouragement in all of it humbly … with deep gratitude … and I don’t take one bit of it for granted.

So my prayer for you – for me – for us – as I prepare to take my leave, is very much like Jesus’ prayer for his disciples – and his prayer for all of us, too. And it’s not just about the next few months, really, but about our life together well beyond this summer’s Sabbath time.

Mostly, Jesus prayed that his disciples – that we – would be one; that we would be united under a banner of grace and mercy; that we would have all the encouragement and power – all the faith and hope we need – to live together and do life together and carry out this ministry together, as God has called us to do, for the long haul.

It's more joy and responsibility than we deserve a lot of the time, but it is our call and our blessing. And it is God’s hope for us, as we live and work and seek to be a blessing of grace and good news for each other and for the sake of the world, in Jesus’ name.

Amen