Sermon on May 18, 2025
“Making All Things New, for the Healing of the World”
By: The Very Rev. Pamela Dolan

“See, I am making all things new!” What a magnificent summary of the message of Easter, if not actually the whole story of salvation at the heart of our faith. It almost has the power of a credal statement: God is making all things new, and God wants us to be part of that work of bringing newness, new life and vitality, into the world. This is, without doubt, the good news that we are called to share with the world.

The phrase itself comes to us from a surprising source, the book of Revelation, which many of us know only as a dizzying fever dream full of frightening beasts and apocalyptic horsemen. Here, though, the vision of John of Patmos is downright comforting, offering us a glimpse of a time that is not quite yet here but is in the process of arriving, a time when God will dwell among mortals, wiping away every tear and bringing an end to sorrow, pain, and even death itself.

In our present reality, however, things are different. We live in a time when so much change is happening so quickly and with such devastating effect, that the idea of making all things new can feel risky, even dangerous. We know things aren’t right the way they are, but we fear where change might lead us.

For this reason, it is so important to find positive, hopeful examples of what it looks like when God makes all things new. Our reading from the Acts of the Apostles, is one such example. Peter’s divinely inspired vision helped him understand that what God is in the process of creating is a healing and liberating new reality. God is asking Peter to participate in creating a world where people see each other as equals, siblings in one great human family. This is God’s dream for us, which sadly does not stop it from feeling like a nightmare to those who wish to cling to the relative safety of the status quo.

I want us to be careful not to let any latent antisemitism creep into our interpretation of this passage. Dietary laws were a common and important way to distinguish among different groups of people in the ancient world—and we’re not so different today, not really. I know people who would rather go hungry than eat at McDonald’s and other people who will make fun of anyone who takes the radical step of consuming kale.

This isn’t just about personal preference or health concerns. Customs and beliefs about what we should eat and with whom we should share a meal continue to have deep cultural significance. There’s a reason that politicians on the campaign trail make a point of having photo ops in ice cream parlors and at state fair food stands—they want to show off how folksy and relatable they are. I realize there are bigger inclusion issues for us to worry about, but my guess is the odds are heavily against our country having a vegan president in my lifetime.

The emotional resonance and social taboos of eating the wrong thing with the wrong people is hard to escape. I still remember my first day of ninth grade, in a brand-new school, trying to figure out what to do when I entered the cafeteria for the first time. I literally did not know a single person and could not figure out where to sit. Do you remember ever feeling like that? It’s agonizing, because it feels like what you eat and where you sit and who is at the table with you that first day is going to define your entire high school experience, even if you just ended up there because every other table was full of people who refused to make eye contact. High school can be so rough!

Perhaps it sounds silly, but I honestly believe that God does not want us to create societies that are structured like that high school cafeteria. As Peter puts it, “The Spirit told me to go with them and not to make a distinction between them and us.” How utterly radical that is—no distinctions, no us and them. Just beloved community, everywhere you look, with everyone welcomed, accepted, and loved. How healing that would be!

Last week I was blessed to be at a clergy conference led by a remarkable Anglican priest named Michael Lapsley. His story is also about God making all things new. As a young man, Fr. Michael moved to South Africa for school and soon began to work with the movement to end apartheid. Eventually, he was expelled from the country for his activism, but he continued his liberation work, including collaborating with the banned African National Congress. In 1990, while still in exile, he was sent a letter bomb and lost both his hands and the sight in one eye.

Despite this devastating personal tragedy, his work for liberation and justice continued, only now he realized that healing from trauma was a necessary part of that work. He couldn’t just be a freedom fighter; he had to become a healer. In 1996, when South Africa’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission began, Fr. Michael organized a “Healing of Memories Workshop” to run parallel with it, which eventually led him to found the organization he still leads.

Our time together last week was a time of storytelling, listening, asking questions, shedding tears, and quite a bit of laughter. His very presence felt like a healing balm, not because he shies away from the hard truths of our terribly fractured and wounded world, but because he embraces truth, the truth of history and of our broken humanity, with a generous and open spirit.

Fr. Michael is a living example of how God makes all things new. He says, and I believe him, that he holds no bitterness or hatred in his heart over the letter bomb and the damage it caused his body. His spirit is intact, whole—in fact it is overflowing with love and compassion. He sees no distinctions between people based on ideology or skin color or country of origin. He works with people from both sides of various conflicts, with soldiers and survivors, victims and victimizers, because he knows in his very core that we are all equally in need of and deserving of God’s love, forgiveness, and healing.

Where do we need God’s help in making all things new? Where does God need our help? One of the things I learned from Fr. Michael is that any single act of healing contributes to the healing of the whole, just as any single act of violence or injustice contributes to the wounding of the whole. Our focus can be on healing the wounds of racism, or the trauma of gun violence, or the ways humankind has wounded the Earth. It all moves us closer to the same goal of healing.

Perhaps, truthfully, there is always only one place to begin, which is within our own hearts. Fr. Michael said more than once that “those who want to help with the healing of others must be on their own healing journey.” Healing is an inside job. If this sounds daunting, it may help to remember that it is God’s healing, God’s love, and God’s forgiveness that are promised us. It is God who is making all things new. We have a role to play, each in our own way. We are called to be instruments, agents, bearers of that love. We are called to love one another, but with humility, knowing that ultimately all love is a gift from God.

My siblings in Christ, our healing journey can’t wait. The stakes are too high. God is making all things new, and that includes our own hearts and souls. We contribute to this when we tell the truth, first and foremost the truth about ourselves, the ways we have been hurt and the ways we have hurt others, but also the ways we have been loved and nurtured, healed and forgiven, and how we try to offer those gifts to others.

We’re all beautiful messes, living in a beautiful, messed up world. This Easter season, let us remember that salvation isn’t out there somewhere, in a future time and place. Rather, God is bringing salvation here, to us, for the home of God is among us, dwelling within us and making us truly God’s people, forgiven, healed, renewed. Amen.