Lectionary Commentaries for May 25, 2025
Sixth Sunday of Easter

The final night’s conversation between Jesus and his disciples continues. Jesus has made clear that he is about to leave them. They are struggling with that news emotionally and conceptually. Jesus has just said that he will not leave them alone (“orphaned,” verse 18). He will continue to love them. He will continue to reveal himself to them but not to the world. Judas (not Iscariot) then asks how that can be (verse 22). How will Jesus reveal himself to these few? Perhaps Judas had in mind the standard apocalyptic event, like lightning flashing from east to west, a revelation that is unavoidable for all (Matthew 24:27).

But Jesus is talking about a different kind of self-revelation. The answer to Judas’s question is love. That is how Jesus reveals himself, and that will continue. Loving someone shapes behavior. That is true with parents and children, spouses and partners. Loving our neighbors means actions oriented toward them and their good. It is the same in the relationship between Jesus and his disciples. Their love for him will shape their lives so that they keep his word (verse 23).

That surely means the specific command on this final night that they serve one another (13:31–35, last Sunday’s text). It also means keeping at the heart of their life together his word about the Father’s love, about grace and truth, and about him going to the Father. Those claims will give shape to their lives of discipleship. Keeping Jesus’ word will also mean being honest about the ways that their love for Jesus still falls short, as verse 28 implies.

The Father will love them (verse 23). This is a promise, and we should be careful not to make this love conditional. The Father’s love does not wait for the disciples to love first. After all, “God so loved the world”; 3:16). God refuses to love from a distance. That is part of what the Incarnation means. So both the Father and the Son will come to make a new home with Jesus’ disciples. The word translated “home” in verse 23 is used only one other time in the New Testament. In John 14:2, Jesus assured the disciples that his Father’s house has many “dwelling places” and that Jesus goes to the Father to prepare a place for them. Now in verse 23, that language is turned inside out. The Father and the Son will make their “dwelling place” with the disciples. This noun is related to the far more frequently used verb in John, “remain” or “abide.” Disciples are those who “abide” in Jesus, in his love, and in his word.

Discipleship is more than effort exerted toward certain behaviors. It is relationship. It is life with another. The Father and the Son will make their “abiding place” with the disciples. The first disciples asked where Jesus was staying (1:38); now they have their answer: Jesus is staying with them. Jesus is certainly going away, yet paradoxically, the life of the church is not marked by Jesus’ absence but by the presence of an abiding God.

“Paraclete” is a uniquely Johannine way to name the Holy Spirit (used in 14:16, 26; 15:26; 16:7). First John 2:1 uses the same word to refer to Jesus, and we should note how the first use of this word in the Gospel (14:16) talks about the Father sending “another Paraclete” (New Revised Standard Version: “Advocate”), implying that this word also is a true description of Jesus himself. In literature outside the New Testament, the word “paraclete” primarily designates a defense attorney. There are forensic aspects to the Paraclete in John 16:7–11, but there the activity is that of a prosecutor rather than a defending counsel.

The same linguistic stem is used in the New Testament to refer to preaching (1 Corinthians 14:3; New Revised Standard Version: “encouragement”), exhortation (Philippians 4:2; New Revised Standard Version: “urge”), and consolation (Matthew 5:4). John uses this rich and multifaceted word “Paraclete” to point to all these ways that the church knows the Spirit. “The Paraclete is the Spirit of Christian “paraclesis.”¹ There is good reason not to translate the word at all but to simply transliterate it as “Paraclete” (as the New Jerusalem Bible does) and allow all these meanings to resonate.

The Pauline tradition centered the activity of the Spirit in particular abilities given to individuals for the good of the community. John understands the Spirit not in these experiences but in connecting the church with Jesus. The communion of Jesus with the believers does not wait for the Final Day or even the day of the disciple’s death. It is enjoyed now because of Jesus’ glorification and the sending of the Paraclete. The Spirit fills the void left by the departing Jesus, and in some mysterious way the Spirit is the continuing presence of the resurrected Christ in the community.

One of the ways the Paraclete will do this will be to remind the disciples about Jesus. At two specific points in John’s story, we are told that the disciples later remembered what Jesus had said and done. In 2:22 we hear that after Jesus’ resurrection, the disciples remembered what he had said about raising up “this temple,” and then they realized he was speaking about his own resurrection. In 12:16 we are told that when Jesus entered Jerusalem and was greeted by enthusiastic crowds, the disciples did not understand the meaning of these events. However, after Jesus was glorified, they remembered.

This is more than recalling events. It is a faithful remembering (re-membering, putting the pieces together) that grasps the deep meaning of these things. The church engages in such faithful remembering. This is what happens in liturgy, in preaching, in sharing the Supper. In all these ways and more, the Paraclete is at work to remind us about how God has been and is still at work among us and for us through Christ. This Spirit-inspired remembering points us again and again to God’s glory revealed in Jesus.

Notes

1. C. K. Barrett, The Gospel According to Saint John (London: SPCK, 1958), 386.

Placed by the Spirit

Life in the Spirit is a wild ride. John 3:8 tells us, “The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” Our text for today illuminates this reality. If we surrender to the movement, the Spirit’s wind will pick us up and place us in positions of flourishing beyond our wildest imaginations. Sometimes the movement comes in like a whisper. Sometimes it rushes in like wildfire. These verses illuminate how the movement of the Spirit delivers the catalyst when motivation is needed and comfort when compassion is needed. Paul is Spirit-moved to geographic locations. He is also moved to spiritual locales of the heart. 

This all-encompassing openness to following the Triune God is instructive and inspiring.  

There is a strong presence of seeing and listening in the language of the text. Paul “sees” the vision of the man of Macedonia (verse 9). He hears the man’s pleading for help and responds (verse 10). Seeing and hearing lead immediately to action because Paul senses the presence of God in this communication. What a blessing to know and trust God so inherently. These sensory responses are also manifestations of the Holy Spirit’s guidance. There is an interconnectivity between seeing, listening, and being unified in community. We see that willing surrender to riding the wind of the Spirit is a way of being positioned by God in places of maturation and growth for the sake of the kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.  

The “place” of passion-movement

Paul is placed in the position of vision-seer and vision-caster. This is a position of the heart, mind, and spirit. Verse 9 opens on the scene of his being overtaken by the sight of the Spirit. Imagine Paul, tired from his missionary travels, in the stillness of the night, when God opens his eyes to see a vision—a man from Macedonia pleading for help. The veracity of visions like this—divine communication through spiritual seeing—was more commonplace in Paul’s first-century landscape. Yet, there is something for the present-day hearer of the text to glean.

We can also be positioned to see and perceive through the power of the Spirit when we surrender to the possibility of this communion with God. Our passion for Christ can compel us into the reality of being envisioned by the Spirit. Being “envisioned” is embracing the capacity to be overcome by God’s sight. Once overcome, we are moved, propelled even, toward enacting our discipleship in Christ. Paul found himself moved on a disciple’s path to Macedonia. It is important to note that this was not merely a personal journey for Paul and his companions but the gospel’s movement into Europe. Even with Spirit-empowered sight, we only see a fraction of what God is doing for the sake of all creation’s salvation.  

When we open our hearts to God, God invites us to step into the greater, divine vision of life, leading us to places and people we never imagined. The vision Paul received was not just a future promise—it was an invitation to action. Just as Paul saw God’s plan unfold, we are called to be spiritually awake, to see the world not just as it is but as God sees it. The Holy Spirit gives us the clarity to see beyond our limited vision into God’s limitless imagination. Paul acted swiftly and confidently, and we, too, are invited to trust God’s leading and take action.

The place of prayer

Knowing what to prioritize at this point in the journey, Paul sought a place of prayer (verse 13). 

He listened to the tender encouragements of the Spirit. This draws a picture that shows deep spiritual sensitivity and attunement to God’s voice. We are often led step-by-step when we are being positioned and placed by the Spirit. This dependence is, in and of itself, a kind of prayer. Move us, Spirit. Guide us, Spirit. Show us the way. Yes, the Spirit can perform dramatic declarations, but the possibility of still, quiet moments is just as real. Are we willing to listen closely to the gentle nudges of the Holy Spirit? Are we prepared to step forward even when we don’t have all the answers? In this place of quiet prayer, Paul encountered God and a community that would be a source of great nurturing in times to come.  

The place of gathering

At the place of prayer, Paul’s preaching moves Lydia. The Spirit opens her heart, allowing her to hunger for and receive the gospel (verses 13–14). Lydia’s response is immediate and profound. She listens, understands, and instantly acts, being baptized along with her whole household. She is transformed. 

The testimony of Lydia’s story reminds us that hearing the truth of God is not a passive experience. Though we cannot know how the transformation will manifest, we can trust the loving power of God and the truth of the gospel to do the good work of transformation. This process is individual and communal. Our conversion and faith gather us together, just as Paul gathers with Lydia and her family. From this place of gathering, the life and work of the kingdom unfold.  

Conclusion

We are invited to live as those born of the Spirit with a confidence that can only come from communion with God. We see, hear, move, and are placed by the wind of the Spirit. We are empowered to discern divine opportunities, to open our hearts to God’s transformative work, to gather in community, caring for one another, and to share the love of the gospel. The internal and external provision to do this is always with us. May we see, hear, and be with, in, and through the Spirit.  

The sixth Sunday of Easter may feel a bit like the 12th day of Christmas—officially still in the zone, but practically speaking, most people have moved on.¹

All the presents have been opened: Preachers have proclaimed the Easter story, the most familiar Easter songs have been sung, the lilies have either wilted or been taken home. What better time, then, to try preaching from the Psalms! Psalm 67 offers a strong framework for building a late-season Easter sermon. It has at least two solid themes to choose from, and pairs well with either the Acts or the Revelation text appointed for Easter 6.

Psalm 67 asks for “a blessing that will make the Lord’s way known among all peoples of the earth,” writes biblical scholar James Luther Mays.² Surely that prayer is answered in the resurrection of Christ! As a step toward using Psalm 67 for Easter preaching, we will first look at it as a freestanding text.

We get to eat dessert first in Psalm 67. The psalmist serves up the benediction right away instead of saving it till the end: “May God be gracious to us and bless us, and make his face to shine upon us.” (Verse 1, many have noted, echoes Numbers 6:24–26.) A benediction is “a word wishing someone well,” writes James Limburg.³ That well-wishing is not only for the faithful few, but for “all nations.” The blessing is a signature, God’s way of communicating “saving power” to “all nations” (verse 2). The outcome: “All the peoples” praise God (verse 3). God’s blessing spreads far and wide, overflowing all boundaries.

The psalm is global. Its invitation is universal, resounding in verse 3 and again in verse 5. “Let the people praise you, O God; let all the peoples praise you.” Verse 4 asks “the nations” to “be glad and sing for joy.” Imagine being in a huge concert hall where massed choirs are singing from every side. The nations sing for joy because God judges the people with equity and guides the nations of earth. Everyone comes to the festival because God works in the history of all nations.⁴

Near the end of the psalm, the reason for thanksgiving shifts to a harvest theme. “The earth has yielded its increase; God, our God, has blessed us” (verse 6). This has led some scholars to describe this psalm as a thanksgiving for harvest, and it certainly can be used for that specific purpose. But it ends with a more general prayer for God’s continued blessing on the worshippers (that’s “us”) and for “all the ends of the earth” to revere God (verse 7).

The theology of the psalm works like this: God’s blessing comes to Abraham and, through him, to all the families of earth. Israel’s salvation becomes a revelation to all nations. In the psalm the nations come to know “the Lord’s way” as Savior (verse 2). God’s way of saving reveals who God is. We apply this to Christianity, for as James Luther Mays says, “the blessing of the church is for the salvation of the nations.”⁵ God’s blessing, God’s saving mercies are not for a small group of insiders, but for all the peoples of earth. Therefore, the psalm speaks to both the identity of God’s people and their mission.

When used on the sixth Sunday of Easter, whether as the main preaching text or as a supporting text, Psalm 67 works well for preaching. It declares that God’s blessing—and there is no blessing greater than Easter—is for all people. Church folk might be tempted at this particular time of year to feel deflated if the Easter crowd has drifted away. Psalm 67 does not go there. It imparts joy and prompts us to spread the Easter message everywhere.

Easter reveals “the Lord’s way” as Savior, and that “way” leads through death to resurrection, through darkness to light for the entire world. Psalm 67 reminds us that God’s blessing is moving throughout the world to embrace “the nations” and “the peoples” of earth. Christianity is growing in parts of Africa and Asia, and closer to home it is not only for “us” in the church but for all the “nones” who say they have no religion.

The “all nations” theme comes up in Acts 16:9–15, the first lesson for the sixth Sunday of Easter. Here Paul and friends travel in what is now western Turkey, spreading the gospel in several towns. Paul baptizes Lydia, “a worshipper of God,” and her family. We are told that “the Lord opened her heart to listen eagerly to what was said by Paul” (Acts 16:14), and she opened her home for Paul and his companions.

The harvest theme from Psalm 67:6 also works well with Easter. The earth has indeed yielded its increase: “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (John 12:24). Christ is called the firstborn or first fruits of the dead in 1 Corinthians 15:20; Colossians 1:18; and Revelation 1:5, for as Christ has been raised, we too shall be raised. This blessing is free to all who embrace it by faith, so that the whole world may “be glad and sing for joy.”

• In the texts appointed for the sixth Sunday of Easter, Revelation 22:2 speaks of the tree of life yielding 12 kinds of fruit, “and the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations.” Here are the nations, and here is the harvest, and here is the life and the healing that the risen Christ brings. Psalm 67 invites us to “be glad and sing for joy.” Hymns that work well with the psalm include these:
• “Christ Is Alive! Let Christians Sing” ELW 389
• “In Christ There Is No East or West” ELW 650
• “Now the Green Blade Rises” ELW 379

Reading Revelation well is a significant challenge for us, primarily because of its genre. I’ll define “genre” this way: a category of artistic composition that shares characteristics like form, style, subject, et cetera. For example, in a murder mystery novel we expect to encounter a fictional account of someone dying by unnatural causes, puzzling and unsettling circumstances and characters, and finally the answer to “whodunit.” Readers who dislike death or being unsettled will prefer a different genre of novel. We make use of genre whenever we choose reading material, movies, music, TV shows, which museums to visit, et cetera.

Our struggle with Revelation is that we don’t have a genre like apocalyptic literature, so we don’t know what expectations to bring to our reading. Consequently, we try to “fit” it into a genre we understand. Thus, when our scientific culture, wherein we equate facts and truth, meets our claim that the Bible is true, we find many interpreters putting Revelation into a “facts = truth” perspective. They claim Revelation predicts actual historical events, but does so in code language (hence the odd scenes and images throughout). Thus, interpretation amounts to “breaking the code” of the book.

Reading Revelation differently

John, Revelation’s author, wasn’t part of a world guided by the scientific method, however, so he and his audience approached truth differently. We might describe their understanding of truth as that which makes sense out of life. From this perspective, Jesus’ parables are true, though they likely never actually happened. Similarly, Isaiah’s great poetry about “the wolf lying down with the lamb” is true, even though wolves and lambs likely won’t literally lie down together even if peace among nations comes about.

I am persuaded, therefore, that reading Revelation from a 21^st-century science-type perspective and its language as a code is inadequate. Instead, we are served best by reading as the first-century author and audience might have done. John introduces his great work this way: A “revelation of Jesus Christ, which God gave him to show his servants what must soon take place” (1:1).

Two points are key for appreciating what John has given us. First, the Greek word apokalypsis (translated “revelation”) indicates an “unveiling” so that we see something anew. Second, the phrase “take place soon” is apocalyptic language indicating the fulfillment of God’s purposes for creation. While we tend to read “soon” in terms of chronology (in other words, coming days or weeks), first-century folks would have heard it as indicating certainty.¹ So John’s work is an unveiling of what God will certainly fulfill for creation.

How does one present such a revelation? John might have said, “Ultimately, God’s peace and justice prevail.” Words like that, however true they may be, are less likely to enable John’s audience to “see” what he “sees” than are powerful symbols and images that spark our imaginations. So John writes of God’s majestic throne, a little lamb standing though it had been slaughtered (the primary image for the resurrected Jesus), a woman clothed with the sun protected from a red dragon who was cast out of heaven, an ultimate battle that isn’t a battle at all, and the descent of “Jerusalem” as a final image of the renewal God promises for creation (21:10).

Revelation 21:22–27

Our text (Revelation 21:22–22:5) is part of the description of this new Jerusalem. The prominent symbol in the first paragraph of our text (21:22–27) is light: The city doesn’t need sun or moon because God is ever present (verse 22), God’s glory is its light, and the Lamb is its lamp (verse 23). Living as a citizen of this new Jerusalem means living as the Lamb taught and showed us (in other words, revealed by “shining his lamp” on it). As a result, there is “no night there” (verse 25), which means, according to our text, that no deceptions and no false gods exist in the city (verse 27).

If we consider how the worship of something like wealth or power causes people to plot and scheme, perhaps manipulate and steal, we can grasp the “revelation” of the link between false gods, lies, and darkness; what shining a light on such practices does to them; and how living apart from them (as the Lamb did and thus revealed) brings us into newness. Doing so would be like living in a new Jerusalem.

Revelation 22:1–5

No wonder, then, that the prominent symbol in the second paragraph of our text is the Tree of Life. It straddles the river of the water of life that flows through the city, it has fruit all year round so people aren’t hungry, and its leaves are “for the healing of the nations” (verses 1–2).

In the creation story, humanity was barred from the Tree of Life (Genesis 3:20–24). But in God’s renewed creation (in other words, the new Jerusalem), inaugurated by Jesus the resurrected Lamb, we have restored access to it. That is, God’s intention for us and all creation is that we share in God’s gift of life, not only when we die, but also when we live in the light of God’s revelation via Jesus. Which means, as John is revealing, living apart from lies and false gods or anything “accursed” (verse 3), as Jesus did.

The result, as we’re told again, is that there is no night there. Instead, we are present with God, who is our light (verse 5)—so present that we can see God’s face (verse 4), as Moses wasn’t allowed to do (Exodus 33:19–23). In the new Jerusalem we have such closeness with God that God’s face is now available to us.

God promised renewal and life to us, and the lamp of the resurrected Lamb/Christ shines so that we see these gifts: a powerful “revelation” from John.

Notes

1. Scholars tell us that people in ancient peasant cultures, where clocks and calendars didn’t exist, thought about time differently than we do. Their focus on surviving today, tomorrow, and the next day meant they weren’t future-oriented as we tend to be. Thus, “soon” was less about the future and more about confidence. To say something “will happen soon” was to say that it will happen.