Holy Week Journeys

Crucifixion by Michaelangelo

  Usually I post for the following Sunday - but at this juncture in Holy Week it just doesn't seem right to skip over some of the most important days of the season and get straight to Easter!  So what follows is a general reflection on Holy Week.  The basis for Holy Week is Jesus' passion story, which is found in all four gospels.  It is the shortest in Mark, the gospel which provides the least detail of any of the four gospels.  In Matthew there is added detail, and if you read them all you will find that Luke differs only slightly from Matthew.  John's gospel is a different story altogether.  The services for Maundy Thursday and Good Friday always focus on these John texts because there is a richness that only a community of believers who had time to reflect upon and form theological understanding of Christ's Passion can bring. 
     Maundy Thursday is so called because we hear Christ's new commandment read. 

A new command I give you: Love one another.  As I have loved you, so you ought to love one another.  By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.  ~ John 13.34-35

Mandatum is the Latin word for commandment, hence Maundy Thursday.   We celebrate the foot washing, some places even giving opportunity to come forward and have your own feet washed.  (If you've never experienced this it is a powerful and humbling moment.  The first time I had this done I was in college and was moved to tears as the pastor knelt and washed my icky, fungus-growing feet.)  It is also, however, the day we celebrate Jesus' last Passover meal with his friends.  Some places celebrate a Seder meal on Maundy Thursday, while others simply place a special emphasis on Holy Communion.  Whatever the tradition of each particular place, Manudy Thursday is an important step in the journey that is Holy Week.
     Good Friday is the day the church remembers and yes, celebrates, Christ's death and resurrection.  It is the day we journey into the deepest, darkest places of humanity: into deceit, lies, violence, terror, and despair.  It is the day we journey, as Bishop Michael Burk said once, "into the place where we are most ourselves."  When Bishop Burk said this, he was talking about Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, the place where all his fears, hopes, dreams, and aspirations about life were brought into the light of day.  Except on this Good Friday we find Jesus in the garden at night - in the dark.  His fears of what lies ahead are brought into the light of the darkest night and he realizes he cannot escape what is waiting.  That what has come to pass is the place where everyone is most themselves - and themselves is not pretty.
     So Christ goes.  Like a lamb uncomplaining forth, he goes into the darkest places of humanity with us.  And it is there that we ponder his sacrifice.  It is there that we appreciate what he has done.  It is there that we love the savior of the world.  It is there, on the cross, that we find ourselves mostly ourselves - and then we wait.
     We know that Easter is coming, that bright and glorious morning.  The deepest, darkest night does not last forever, but rises new with the sun, but rises new with the Son.  And then we come to know who we really are.  As Christ is made new and brought from the darkness to the light, so we too, joined to Christ through baptism, are brought from our darkness into the light.  In this light we live, in this light we love, in this light we thrive.
     I pray that your Holy Week journeys might be filled with the awesome wonder of the mystery that is the cross, the mystery that is new life in Christ, the mystery that is the journey of the disciple.

Passion or Praise?

     This last Sunday in Lent is frequently called 'Palm Sunday' because of the celebration of Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem.  This year we read the story in Luke 19, where Jesus sends two of his disciples ahead to bring back a colt for him to ride.  As he rides, the crowds spread their cloaks on the road and begin to shout praises to God, and shouts of joy for all the glory they had seen.  (It is interesting to note that even though it is 'Palm Sunday' there are no palms in Luke's account of Jesus' entry.  The palm branches are found in John 12.)  Some Pharisees notice what is happening and ask Jesus to make them stop, to which Jesus responds:

I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out 

Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore - August 2012

And so the story of Palm Sunday goes.  Except the Sunday does not end there.  For any who are familiar with the week, we begin the day with praise and thanksgiving, shouts of joy, and end the day with the ugly shouts of betrayal and death sentences.  The marked turn of tone in such a short time is often jarring for me, as one who hears the triumphant shouts turned to hideous calls for death, as one whose palm branches of praise wither so quickly as the goodness and greatness of God are forgotten as soon as they depart my lips.

     Someone asked me last week if they thought it was possible that we are like Judas.  My answer to that is a definite and resounding, "YES!"  Not definite and resounding in the proud sense, but in examining my own heart and actions, it is obvious that Jesus is not always the first in my praise and joy, and often is betrayed by my judgmental, uncharitable thoughts and actions. 

    We read about this experience in Scripture, from Luke 22-23.  It is a longer reading on Sunday, and will be done by several people with participation from the whole congregation.   As we begin to reflect on Holy Week, beginning with the blessing and praise of Jesus and quickly turning to the passion and sorrow of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter.  There is a great debate among many churches as to whether to give Palm Sunday its own holiday or whether, for the sake of those who can't (or choose not to) make it to the Holy Week worship services, to include the whole Passion story.

     Yet the part of Sunday's gospel that really gets me is Jesus' response to the request to silence the crowds.  When the crowds are singing praise to God, it causes disquiet and discomfort among the powerful.  Yet when the crowds are singing of crucifixion and death, no one speaks up.  When the crowds are laying down their cloaks at the feet of Jesus, the request is made to silence them.  Yet when the crowds are laying down judgement and guilt there is no one to speak for Jesus.  But, says Jesus, when we are silent even the stones will shout.  

     There is a lot of shouting in our society.  People shouting on 'news' shows, people shouting so their voice will be heard among the throng of others.  People shouting to be right, to be better, to be stronger.  And sometimes it seems that people shout just to shout.  Our world is full of shouting.  Which is maybe why it is so astonishing at the silence.  Do you notice when our world is silent?  In the gentle silence after a tragedy (before the shouting begins again)?  In the moments where there are simply no words (until the silence is filled with anger and shouting)?  When we come to the part of the Passion story where the crowd shouts:

Crucify him!  

    Crucify him!  

        Crucify him!

And it is in these moments of shouting and silence, the moments of passion and praise, where we hear the still, small voice of God.  It is the voice from the rocks that tremble at the foot of the cross that this is God's son.  It is the voice of the ground covered in cloaks that shouts for praise of God's salvation.  And, I think, that whether it is passion or praise that shout from the mouths of humans, the stones cry out.  God is merciful.  God is love.  God is life.  The mystery that remains then, is what will my shouts be?  Passion?  or Praise?

 

What do you hold precious?

     As we creep ever closer to Holy Week and Easter, our texts point more boldly to the death of Christ.  This Sunday we are taking a departure from Luke and going to the 12th chapter of John where we come into a scene of a dinner.  Not the last dinner, but a significant dinner at that.  Mary uses expensive perfume to anoint Jesus, washing his feet and drying them with his hair.  Judas Iscariot has a huge issue with this - that was a years' worth of wages and she could have spent it on the poor!  Yet Jesus defends Mary, foretelling his death and reminding them that they would always have the poor but he would not always be with them.
     In thinking about this text, I find it an interesting one, and there are many questions.  Some wonder at the ritual of foot-washing.  Why was it significant?  Some wonder at Jesus' arrogance.  Why should he benefit from a year's wages?  Some wonder at Judas.  Was he really a thief?  Well, I find it helpful this week to look to our other passages for the day, and to look at the conversation between different parts of Scripture.
     The Old Testament lesson is from Isaiah 43, and the New Testament lesson is from Philippians 3.  In each of these texts, there is talk about what God is doing.  In Isaiah the prophet reminds Israel of what God did for the people in Egypt, bringing them through the water and providing salvation in the desert.  Yet, the prophet writes, do not remember this marvelous and miraculous thing that God did.  God is doing something new - now!  Open your eyes to see it!  Even the wild animals can see what I am doing - yet you are clouded by preconceived notions. 
     And again in the Philippians text, Paul talks about what Christ has done for him.  He was a perfect, upstanding Jewish man, and had gained salvation in the sight of all.  Yet, Paul writes, he considers all these things gained as loss now, because they are meaningless compared to what God has done in Christ. And, Paul says, "this one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus."
     The theme of these two readings seems to be, therefore, that God is always making new life in new ways.  For the Israelites in Isaiah, it was deliverance from captivity in Babylon.  For Paul, it was deliverance from laws and regulations to new life in Christ.  So does this apply for Mary?
     Perhaps Mary is so in tune with Jesus she is able to perceive the new thing that God is about to do through Christ's death.  Perhaps Mary is so in tune with God's salvation and work in the world she is willing, like Paul, to give up that which she held most dear and precious in order to take part in God's new work in the world.
     And if this is the case, wow.  What does that mean for us?  Could it be that there is something we are holding dear and precious that hinders our ability to see God's new work in the world?  Maybe it isn't necessarily holding on to the past (though it is fun to remember the 'good old days when...'), and maybe it isn't holding on to tradition, laws, and 'the way things should be'.  But maybe it is something.  What is it you hold most precious?  Is it family?  A hobby?  Your ability to do something - work, sports, etc.?  Is what you hold most precious a vision or a goal?
     And, does this precious thing get in the way of your ability to see God's salvation in the world?  Maybe God is trying to tell you something - a new insight, or a new way of being, or a new way of life - and you're so busy being occupied with all you hold precious that you're missing it! 
     We might see this story as an awkward moment between Judas and Jesus.  Or we might look at Mary and wonder at the waste of such a large amount of money.  But what if this text is inviting us to ponder what we hold dear and how it gets in the way?  So I ask you, as you continue to live the mystery of faith and life, what do you hold precious?  And, when you answer that, would you be willing to give it up in order to hold Jesus that close?

The Old/New Prodigal?

from http://charper89.wordpress.com

     In starting, we just need to put it out there: for most people sitting in the pew, the text for Sunday is so well known and familiar it will be difficult to hear any other way.  The text is from Luke 15, and is actually the introduction and then a second parable in a series.  The parable is known as the Prodigal Son.  Now, before you go and read it, I want you to write it down, or say it - in as much detail as you can.  Every little, minute detail.  Really, do it...
     So?  How did you do?  If I had to guess, here's how I think you wrote it down:

There were two sons, and the one asked his father for his half of the inheritance (which was a huge offense to his dad).  However, the father loved him and gave it to him.  So when he received his inheritance he went off and spent it gambling and on prostitutes.  He runs out of money, however, and his life spirals downward until he ends up a starving slave feeding pigs - and while he's in the muck of his life (literally and figuratively) he thinks that maybe his father would take him back.  Not as a son, but as a slave.  So he turns home, tail between his legs, and as he is returning, his father sees him and runs out with open arms.  He is so joyful the son has returned he orders a festival and kills the fatted calf.  The lost son is found!  Meanwhile, the older son, who has been working hard on the farm this whole time, comes home to find his no-good low-life brother returned and his father actually happy about it.  He is mad - livid - and won't join in the party.  So his dad comes and reminds him that he has always been with him and his brother was lost but is now found.

Is that about right?  That's how I remember the story, anyway.  So now, let's actually read the story from Luke 15.  In reading the story from scripture, there are a few things I would like to note.  

1. Even before the actual parable begins, we read that Jesus tells us this parable because the Pharisees were complaining that Jesus was eating with tax collectors and sinners.  In other words, the story is already set up so that the Pharisees will hear themselves as the older brother.
2. His downward spiral is actually a result of a few things.  Pay attention to verse 14, "When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need."  It is because of an economic recession brought on by a famine in conjunction with his out of control spending that he begins to be in need.
3. When the younger son is returning home, and his father sees him coming, it is because the father is "filled with compassion" that he goes running to him (verse 20).
4. It is the younger brother's plan to return and tell his father, "I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands," (verse 19) yet when we hear the older brother's argument to his father he says, "For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends," (verse 29).

Now, these are all fairly small details, little clauses in sentences, little nuances that often go overlooked and unnoticed.  However, any one of these could be cause to pause and reconsider the story.  Why did Jesus choose to tell this parable to the Pharisees?  Was he trying to help them open their mind to how God's grace is for everyone?  What does the detail about the famine go along with the fact that the younger brother had spent all he had?  Can that in any way be a telling of the story in which our country finds itself today?  How is the father filled with compassion and run to his son after all that time?  Is this helping us see that compassion and love are inextricably linked?  Why does Jesus make a play with the slave role in the sons?  Could it be that it often seems like a life of obedience and faithfulness feels more like the life of a slave rather than the life of a true-born child?
     When a story is so familiar we can say it by heart, and when we think we know everything about it, I think we have an extraordinary invitation to listen to the Spirit and to see how the Spirit reveals different things at different times.
     So this week, I wonder, what do you hear that is new in the old?  How can the familiar invite you into the mysterious?  How is the prodigal new again for you?