In a happy coincidence of calendar and curriculum, we baked bread in our Communion class. We baked unleavened bread as the students and I discussed how important it was for the Hebrews to bake quickly and travel light as they escaped from Egypt on the way to the Promised Land. We were talking about the Exodus in class, and I asked if they knew what it means. One student pointed to the exit sign above the door and said, "Exodus means to leave." We talked about the how the Hebrews had painted the town red ... or at least their door frames. And what they used was not Sherwin-Williams, but the blood of a sacrificial lamb. And the angel of the Lord passed over those red door frames, and the lives of the Hebrews were spared. It's a powerful story ... one that has sustained the Jewish people for more than 3,000, and the happy coincidence of calendar and curriculum is this: we studied the lesson and baked our bread yesterday morning ... as Jews throughout the world began their celebration of Passover.

And the other coincidence of calendar and curriculum is that our text this morning, the Fifth Sunday in Easter, takes us back to the Upper Room the night before the Cross, as Jesus as his disciples observe a final meal together: the Passover meal. And Jesus broke unleavened bread and declared it to be his body; and Jesus poured some claret colored wine and declared it to be his blood. The next day the blood of Jesus, the very One we call Lamb of God, will be spilled. And once more the people will be saved. A powerful story; a more powerful reality. Exodus was the theme of our class yesterday morning; it is the theme of our text for this day. Yesterday, it was the going out of the Jewish people. This morning, it is the leave taking of Jesus. "I go." Jesus says. "I go." But Jesus goes with a promise, "Do not let your hearts be troubled.... I go to prepare a place for you."

I heard this caution on the evening news: "If you are going to Yankee Stadium to see the Pope tomorrow, be sure to take mass transit." I looked for a twinkle in the eye of the anchor woman. There was none. She did not get her own unintentional pun, that to see the Pope, "take mass transit." At any rate, no matter how effective a leader Benedict turns out to be, I don't think he'll ever be able to step out from the shadow of his predecessor. John Paull II lived such a gracious life, and the world had to be impressed by the way he faced his final days, "Be not afraid," he said. Over and over like a calming mantra, John Paul sought to assure all people who shall eventually face their own final days, "Be not afraid."

Not always so easy though. For three years the disciples have been companions of Jesus. Breaking bread with him. Watching him as he healed. Listening to him as he taught. Praying with him in all sorts of circumstances. You would think they are ready for anything life can throw at them. Being with Jesus is an in-depth course in Religion 101. And yet the disciples of our text for this day are not hearty men, teeming with confidence ... but rather men with troubled hearts. With Jesus in their midst they believe they can do anything. With Jesus preparing to leave them ... they fear for tomorrow. Someone once said, "every tomorrow has two handles: we can take hold of the handle of anxiety or the handle of faith." The disciples are troubled; they grab hold of the handle of anxiety.

When Jesus was leaving his disciples to return to his Father, he, too, knew that leave-taking was very important. He didn't leave them without saying good-by. And the questions his disciples, his "children," asked were the same ones our children used to ask. Nel or I would say, "We're going out now. Be good for the sitter." "Can we come with you?" "No, not tonight." "But where are you going?" "We're going to dinner and the movie, and we'll be back in a little while. Be good!" And though our children might not understand completely, they know they are not going to be left home alone. That is so important for children ... no matter how old we are. This was a major worry for the disciples. Facing the world alone. With Jesus in their midst they could confront just about anything. With Jesus gone, they could not even begin to face themselves and their own fears.

With specific clarity Jesus gave them answers, although they could not fully comprehend the dimensions of what he was telling them. "I go to my Father," he said. "You can't come with me yet, but don't worry, I won't leave you alone. The Holy Spirit will be your constant companion, and I must go so that he can come. While I'm gone he will teach you everything you need to know. I will be gone, by my time, only a little while, though it may seem long to you. But, I go to prepare a place for you. After that, we won't have to say good-by again."

This morning, in the waters of Baptism, it is not good-bye time but a time for saying hello. Paul Lienau gets his first splash of religion. This can be a frightening world into which Paul has been born ... but Paul is being claimed by a powerful Savior! A Savior who greets him, "The water may be cold Paul, but my love is warm. And Paul ... these waters will gently carry you through the length of your life and onto the shores of a dwelling place I have prepared for you." Someone once said, "Babies are such a nice way to start people." Jesus would say it differently, "Baptism is such a nice way to start babies - on the road to life eternal."

You might wonder, "What happened to the first disciples ... they with the troubled hearts?" Well, after Easter they got their act together. They began to say things that sounded like Jesus. They began to do things they had never seen anyone but him do before. Their once troubled hearts became brave, capable, wise. Whenever two or three of them got together, their seemed always someone else with them ... as available to them as bread and wine. To paraphrase Barbara Brown Taylor, it was almost as if Jesus had exploded ... so that all the religion that was once concentrated in him alone, flew everywhere, far and wide, so that the seeds of heaven were sown in all the fields of the earth. We are here this morning to acknowledge the Lord's absence ... and to seek the Lord's presence. To fill our emptiness with the presence of Jesus in bread and wine. To teach our children well, what is truly the essence of life. To share with one another the very best this life has to offer - and to find courage to withstand the very worst.

I talked with Elizabeth (thirty-one year old Elizabeth) within hours of hearing the news she may be facing her third bout with cancer. I should have asked her permission to share this, but I don't think she would mind. "Pastor," she said, "Whatever happens, I know I am going to be okay." Just maybe her own courage comes from what she learned from a Communion class curriculum long ago. Maybe her courage derives from what she has heard echoed from parents and pulpit over the years: "Do not let your hearts be troubled." "I go to prepare a place for you." "I am the way, and the truth, and the life." "Behold, I am with you always."

These red letter words of Jesus are words of great comfort and deep hope. "Every tomorrow has two handles - the handle of anxiety or the handle of faith." If there is any truth at all to that, these promises of Jesus help us get a handle on the right one: the handle of faith.