Way, Truth, Life – Nick Utphall reflects on life now and not just afterlife
Care for Creation Commentary on the Revised Common Lectionary
Readings for the 5th Sunday of Easter, Year A (2026,2029)
Acts 7:55–60
Psalm 31:1–5, 15–16
1 Peter 2:2–10
John 14:1–14
To begin our readings for this day, we look back before this Easter season, as Stephen gazes into heaven. The words in Acts repeat the quotation from our Psalm that was also used by the same author, Luke, in his Gospel from the mouth of Jesus during the crucifixion: “Into your hands, I commend my spirit” (Luke 23:46).
Not of new Easter life, and not of focus on this earth, instead these words and their connection seem to mark a moment of death. The same God who gives us spirit or breath also takes them back (see Psalm 104:29-30—a great creation Psalm on the whole!).
But for the purposes of this reflection, let us note two things:
1) As Stephen gazes heaven-ward, heaven need not be considered so much “Where” as “How,” that this could be about a way of being and not just a destination for going later. That may even mean seeing life and death—and how we encounter or engage them—with God’s vision.
2) This is a very small part of the very end of Stephen’s story, which began in the previous chapter. Stephen was among seven original deacons chosen to help with the food pantry and making sure that everyone was getting enough to eat. (The word “deacon” in Greek was mainly about serving meals, sort of equivalent to our English term “waiter.”) In categories we may now consider racial justice—or, at the time, ethnic justice—the issue arose that non-Hebrew widows weren’t getting as much food allotted as Hebrew widows (see Acts 6:1-6). The deacons were chosen to work on equitable distribution and to ensure that one’s “national” (not the equivalent of our current borders and boundaries) background or ethnic identity didn’t matter for how much they had to eat and sustain their lives. It’s also notable and humorous that this food distribution was a task the twelve apostles wanted to pass off so they could focus on preaching, only to have the waiter Stephen go on to preach the longest sermon in the book of the Acts of the Apostles!
This context of equitable food distribution may invite reflections in your context of where and how the impacts of the resurrection correlate to you and your congregation being part of deaconing, serving and waiting on those who might otherwise be left out. That reflection is especially appropriate for situations contrary to typical practice, when some are intentionally omitted or excluded. In those instances, serving and including may even be resisted, even if not to the extent of the antagonism that led to Stephen’s death by stoning.
Eco-justice or environmental racism may be enough of an entry point for how you and your congregation relate to this. For example, one quick perspective now on food distribution related to race shows in this chart from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) with statistics of free school lunches by race.
To broaden our perspective on dominant or dominating perspectives and practices that leave out the hungry, a recent report about Rice whales in the Gulf of Mexico describes how oil drilling endangers the food supply and potentially the very survival of the species. Are we willing to stand up against the ways of life that would leave sibling species out of equitable distribution, which may permanently endanger their lives (or breath or spirit or souls)?
For now bypassing our Psalm in the lectionary sequence, we move on to continued (if not quite contiguous) readings through First Peter. For the Creation Care preacher or reflector, there is lots of geology here, many rocks and stones. (The two letters of Peter are likely pseudonymous, yet Peter’s name meaning Rock or Stone fits this pericope.)
Again, for eco-justice, we should note that these verses have been important for Palestinian Christians. They regularly comment that people make pilgrimages to observe ancient stones of buildings regarded as holy sites from the Bible. Yet this small, oppressed group of Christians residing in this Holy Land fit the identification as Living Stones of the location. It’s not only about going to see dead stones of old holy sites where biblical events may have occurred, but about the people striving (and struggling) to live faithfully from then until now.
In spite of all of the rocky imagery, what might stand out is more translucent—meaning letting the light through. Before an assurance that “you are God’s chosen people,” there is a culminating verse in First Peter ending “that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light” (1 Peter 2:9). This verse could flag issues both with gender and race, which you might want to consider. First is a caution about pronouns for God that default to the masculine. Second is a reminder of the risks of equating blackness as bad.
In her Women’s Lectionary translations, built around the perspective of Womanist theology, the Rev. Dr. Wilda Gafney translates verse 9 as, “Yet you all are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own possession, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of God who called you out of shadow into God’s marvelous light” (italics highlighting troublesome phrases in the NSRV). (Wilda Gafney, A Women’s Lectionary for the Whole Church Year W. Church Publishing Incorporated, 2021, p. 233) In other instances (such as the familiar, moving passage from the Gospel of John chapter 1), Dr. Gafney translates darkness instead as dimness or even bleakness. It serves as a beautiful and necessary reminder that our powerful options of parlance are not about the necessity of moving away from being Black but about being called by Easter’s good news into what is not bleak, not lifeless.
As we move on to the Gospel reading, the first of three passages we’ll encounter in these weeks from John’s portrayal is actually of the night before Jesus’ crucifixion. Here we hear the familiar phrase, “In my Father’s house, there are many dwelling places” (14:2).
When I was attending Luther Seminary in the early 2000’s, a retired professor, Wendell Frerichs, noted in a class discussion that he had figured some math on the size of this house and place Jesus was preparing. For the “dwelling places,” Dr. Frerichs had taken an estimated measurement of the dimensions of a small dorm room and extrapolated based on the number of Christians at that point in history to quantify cumulatively the size of the Father’s house. I don’t recall the numbers, but it was impressive, at least for a thought experiment.
Cherishing the memory of this dear theologian—and the amusement and delight of his calculations—I again note the notion of physicality versus promise. I don’t believe this word from Jesus was about taking us away from here and up to a heavenly house so much as informing how we live here. Easter and resurrection are a promise that life is more than we are currently experiencing, but not only as an escape.
This passage is very frequently used at funerals, but there could and must also be meaning for THIS life. In one instance which I would suggest for your practice, we could more often sing a hymn in Evangelical Lutheran Worship, “Here, O Lord, Your Servants Gather” (ELW 530). Perhaps, again, because of ethno-racism (and in spite of the hymn’s direct phrase “Many are the tongues we speak, scattered are the lands”), this hymn of Japanese heritage is not used as much as it could be in our western congregational practice. The hymn is constructed around Jesus’ identity as “the way, and the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). Here is the text:
- Here, O Lord, your servants gather, hand we link with hand;
looking toward our Savior’s cross, joined in love we stand.
As we seek the realm of God, we unite to pray:
Jesus, Savior, guide our steps for you are the way.
- Many are the tongues we speak, scattered are the lands;
yet our hearts are one in God, one in love’s demands.
E’en in darkness hope appears calling age and youth;
Jesus, Teacher, swell with us, for you are the truth.
- Nature’s secrets open wide, changes never cease;
where, O where, can weary souls find the source of peace?
Unto all those sore distressed, torn by endless strife,
Jesus, Healer, bring your balm, for you are the life.
- Grant, O God, an age renewed, filled with deathless love;
help us as we work and pray. Send us from above
truth and courage, faith and power needed in our strife:
Jesus, Master, be our way, be our truth, our life.
The hymn text clearly invites us not toward otherworldly longing, but engagement here and now, as “Nature’s secrets open wide.” That might be about Rice whales, or about the distress of what is “torn by endless strife” around our world.
To return to Stephen’s quotation of Psalm 30, we could join the prayer of “Into your hands I commend my spirit” not about a dis-embodied soul flying away from earth, not only about afterlife (or after-death), but asking what it means or looks like when our spirit—our breath, our existence, our so-called soul (perhaps all synonyms in original Hebrew and Greek)—exists when it is in God’s hands even now. The impacts of the resurrection aren’t only for after-death hope, as vital as that may be. They shape how we encounter resistant forces and powers, and nevertheless act as apostles, knowing there is a greater force and power.
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
Originally written by Nick Utphall in 2026.
nick@theMCC.net
https://utphall.wordpress.com/
Fifth Sunday of Easter in Year A (Utphall26)
Way, Truth, Life – Nick Utphall reflects on life now and not just afterlife
Care for Creation Commentary on the Revised Common Lectionary
Readings for the 5th Sunday of Easter, Year A (2026,2029)
Acts 7:55–60
Psalm 31:1–5, 15–16
1 Peter 2:2–10
John 14:1–14
To begin our readings for this day, we look back before this Easter season, as Stephen gazes into heaven. The words in Acts repeat the quotation from our Psalm that was also used by the same author, Luke, in his Gospel from the mouth of Jesus during the crucifixion: “Into your hands, I commend my spirit” (Luke 23:46).
Not of new Easter life, and not of focus on this earth, instead these words and their connection seem to mark a moment of death. The same God who gives us spirit or breath also takes them back (see Psalm 104:29-30—a great creation Psalm on the whole!).
But for the purposes of this reflection, let us note two things:
1) As Stephen gazes heaven-ward, heaven need not be considered so much “Where” as “How,” that this could be about a way of being and not just a destination for going later. That may even mean seeing life and death—and how we encounter or engage them—with God’s vision.
2) This is a very small part of the very end of Stephen’s story, which began in the previous chapter. Stephen was among seven original deacons chosen to help with the food pantry and making sure that everyone was getting enough to eat. (The word “deacon” in Greek was mainly about serving meals, sort of equivalent to our English term “waiter.”) In categories we may now consider racial justice—or, at the time, ethnic justice—the issue arose that non-Hebrew widows weren’t getting as much food allotted as Hebrew widows (see Acts 6:1-6). The deacons were chosen to work on equitable distribution and to ensure that one’s “national” (not the equivalent of our current borders and boundaries) background or ethnic identity didn’t matter for how much they had to eat and sustain their lives. It’s also notable and humorous that this food distribution was a task the twelve apostles wanted to pass off so they could focus on preaching, only to have the waiter Stephen go on to preach the longest sermon in the book of the Acts of the Apostles!
This context of equitable food distribution may invite reflections in your context of where and how the impacts of the resurrection correlate to you and your congregation being part of deaconing, serving and waiting on those who might otherwise be left out. That reflection is especially appropriate for situations contrary to typical practice, when some are intentionally omitted or excluded. In those instances, serving and including may even be resisted, even if not to the extent of the antagonism that led to Stephen’s death by stoning.
Eco-justice or environmental racism may be enough of an entry point for how you and your congregation relate to this. For example, one quick perspective now on food distribution related to race shows in this chart from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) with statistics of free school lunches by race.
To broaden our perspective on dominant or dominating perspectives and practices that leave out the hungry, a recent report about Rice whales in the Gulf of Mexico describes how oil drilling endangers the food supply and potentially the very survival of the species. Are we willing to stand up against the ways of life that would leave sibling species out of equitable distribution, which may permanently endanger their lives (or breath or spirit or souls)?
For now bypassing our Psalm in the lectionary sequence, we move on to continued (if not quite contiguous) readings through First Peter. For the Creation Care preacher or reflector, there is lots of geology here, many rocks and stones. (The two letters of Peter are likely pseudonymous, yet Peter’s name meaning Rock or Stone fits this pericope.)
Again, for eco-justice, we should note that these verses have been important for Palestinian Christians. They regularly comment that people make pilgrimages to observe ancient stones of buildings regarded as holy sites from the Bible. Yet this small, oppressed group of Christians residing in this Holy Land fit the identification as Living Stones of the location. It’s not only about going to see dead stones of old holy sites where biblical events may have occurred, but about the people striving (and struggling) to live faithfully from then until now.
In spite of all of the rocky imagery, what might stand out is more translucent—meaning letting the light through. Before an assurance that “you are God’s chosen people,” there is a culminating verse in First Peter ending “that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light” (1 Peter 2:9). This verse could flag issues both with gender and race, which you might want to consider. First is a caution about pronouns for God that default to the masculine. Second is a reminder of the risks of equating blackness as bad.
In her Women’s Lectionary translations, built around the perspective of Womanist theology, the Rev. Dr. Wilda Gafney translates verse 9 as, “Yet you all are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own possession, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of God who called you out of shadow into God’s marvelous light” (italics highlighting troublesome phrases in the NSRV). (Wilda Gafney, A Women’s Lectionary for the Whole Church Year W. Church Publishing Incorporated, 2021, p. 233) In other instances (such as the familiar, moving passage from the Gospel of John chapter 1), Dr. Gafney translates darkness instead as dimness or even bleakness. It serves as a beautiful and necessary reminder that our powerful options of parlance are not about the necessity of moving away from being Black but about being called by Easter’s good news into what is not bleak, not lifeless.
As we move on to the Gospel reading, the first of three passages we’ll encounter in these weeks from John’s portrayal is actually of the night before Jesus’ crucifixion. Here we hear the familiar phrase, “In my Father’s house, there are many dwelling places” (14:2).
When I was attending Luther Seminary in the early 2000’s, a retired professor, Wendell Frerichs, noted in a class discussion that he had figured some math on the size of this house and place Jesus was preparing. For the “dwelling places,” Dr. Frerichs had taken an estimated measurement of the dimensions of a small dorm room and extrapolated based on the number of Christians at that point in history to quantify cumulatively the size of the Father’s house. I don’t recall the numbers, but it was impressive, at least for a thought experiment.
Cherishing the memory of this dear theologian—and the amusement and delight of his calculations—I again note the notion of physicality versus promise. I don’t believe this word from Jesus was about taking us away from here and up to a heavenly house so much as informing how we live here. Easter and resurrection are a promise that life is more than we are currently experiencing, but not only as an escape.
This passage is very frequently used at funerals, but there could and must also be meaning for THIS life. In one instance which I would suggest for your practice, we could more often sing a hymn in Evangelical Lutheran Worship, “Here, O Lord, Your Servants Gather” (ELW 530). Perhaps, again, because of ethno-racism (and in spite of the hymn’s direct phrase “Many are the tongues we speak, scattered are the lands”), this hymn of Japanese heritage is not used as much as it could be in our western congregational practice. The hymn is constructed around Jesus’ identity as “the way, and the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). Here is the text:
looking toward our Savior’s cross, joined in love we stand.
As we seek the realm of God, we unite to pray:
Jesus, Savior, guide our steps for you are the way.
yet our hearts are one in God, one in love’s demands.
E’en in darkness hope appears calling age and youth;
Jesus, Teacher, swell with us, for you are the truth.
where, O where, can weary souls find the source of peace?
Unto all those sore distressed, torn by endless strife,
Jesus, Healer, bring your balm, for you are the life.
help us as we work and pray. Send us from above
truth and courage, faith and power needed in our strife:
Jesus, Master, be our way, be our truth, our life.
The hymn text clearly invites us not toward otherworldly longing, but engagement here and now, as “Nature’s secrets open wide.” That might be about Rice whales, or about the distress of what is “torn by endless strife” around our world.
To return to Stephen’s quotation of Psalm 30, we could join the prayer of “Into your hands I commend my spirit” not about a dis-embodied soul flying away from earth, not only about afterlife (or after-death), but asking what it means or looks like when our spirit—our breath, our existence, our so-called soul (perhaps all synonyms in original Hebrew and Greek)—exists when it is in God’s hands even now. The impacts of the resurrection aren’t only for after-death hope, as vital as that may be. They shape how we encounter resistant forces and powers, and nevertheless act as apostles, knowing there is a greater force and power.
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
Originally written by Nick Utphall in 2026.
nick@theMCC.net
https://utphall.wordpress.com/
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