The Rev. Canon Mariclair Partee
How to follow that Gospel? What more is there to say?
Palm Sunday is an oddity in our calendar and in our general idea of how things are supposed to go. A few weeks ago we heard the parable of the Prodigal Son, and it played to type: it began with discord, a son demanded his inheritance early, then left to spend it all in profligate living, found himself starving and headed back home, broken, repentant, to work as a slave and instead there was celebration, rejoicing, a son lost as if dead was returned, resurrected.
Today we have the opposite, we began in celebration and end heartbroken, standing beside the disciples, staring at our Lord dead on a cross. We end this Lent and pass into Holy Week, the rising dread of Good Friday, the liminal time of Holy Saturday, without quite knowing what has hit us.
I’ve spoken before about the practice from Ignatian spirituality where one reads a passage from the gospels and then meditates upon the word by imagining yourself in the story, in the place of different characters, perhaps Jesus, or a disciple, or a shepherd passing by, or maybe even a child attracted by the crowd that followed Jesus around by the end of his ministry.
It is easy to do in today’s passage; perhaps you pictured what it might have looked like as the passion was read so dramatically just now. We can all see the crowds gathered around the street in Jerusalem as a scraggly, bearded man enters, riding a donkey, draped with cloaks, his friends shouting Hosanna. Not everyone would know exactly what was going on, who Jesus was, but times were hard, the city was occupied by the Romans, and some folks probably welcomed the disruption to their lives. The crowds grew and palm fronds were thrown into the street for this oddball King, entering in a humble procession, on a lowly steed, with a ragtag band of fisherman, thieves, and women.
Jesus made it clear to his disciples that he was heading toward his death but as so often happened, they didn’t understand, didn’t believe that the strife he was warning of would ever come to pass. And so we can imagine, a few short days later, their confusion to be standing at Golgotha, the Place of the Skull, staring up at their rabbi, their friend, their teacher, their King, hanging dead from a cross.
We might also be asking ourselves, at this moment, quite how we got to this place where we’ve ended up, how these 40 days of Lent have run so quickly, how our lives can be so different, perhaps, than they were on Ash Wednesday. Much has happened in our life as a community. Employment has been lost, or found, the season has changed from winter to spring. Babies have been conceived, and are growing, quietly and quickly. Lives have ended, and families mourn.
Time sneaks up on us, unexpected, shocking us as it passes so quickly. We are often in the place of the disciples, barely recovered from the celebration, with the sorrow overtaking us, not even fully understanding what has happened, what is happening and without a real clue as to what is coming next.
When we find ourselves in these moments of loss, these Good Friday moments, bereft at the feet of our crucified Lord, we have the promise of Easter, at least, the surety of the resurrection, but that day at Golgotha, the disciples weren’t so sure about that part, wanted desperately to believe that their Lord would rise again but were face to face with his body, lifeless, the undeniable evidence of his death, and their convictions shaken. Many of us have also found ourselves, in the midst of tragedy, lost, without hope that our world will ever be quite the same again, and in fact: it won’t. The promise of the resurrection is not that time will be wound backwards and that Good Friday won’t ever have happened, the promise is that Christ will rise, death will be conquered, and the world will become something entirely different.
And we, like the disciples, like Mary, the mother of Jesus, like every parent who has lost a child, like any one of us who has lost someone we love, dearly, will weep, and tear our hair, and beat our breasts, until we learn how to live in the new reality in which we find ourselves.
And so, as Holy Week begins today, we will walk this short path together, to the devastation of Good Friday and the in-between, unknowing time of Holy Saturday, always with a glimmer of the light of Easter morning leading us on, giving us the strength to keep moving forward, into the blazing glory of our resurrected Christ.
AMEN.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Sunday, March 21, 2010
The Fifth Sunday of Lent
The Very Rev. Anthony R. Pompa
John 12:1-8
On this fifth Sunday of our Lenten journey we stand poised to make our transition to Holy Week. We are preparing to move toward Jerusalem with Jesus. In the gospel of John, Jesus is spending time with his friends in Bethany. In John’s account, Jesus has executed seven dramatic miracles among the people up to this time. These signs point to the truth of God’s saving action in the person of Jesus.
Jesus has already turned water into wine at Cana; healed the official’s son in Capernaum; made a crippled man walk and a blind man see; fed the five-thousand by the Sea of Galilee; and walked on water.
The “sign” symphony, if you will, comes to a poignant crescendo when Jesus raises his friend, Lazarus, from the dead. This action, of course, stirs the hopes and imaginations of those who follow Jesus thirsting for new life, and also further stirs the insecurities and defenses of those who see a threat to the religious and political status establishment in peoples’ reactions to Jesus. In fact, so threatening is this Jesus that there are whispers on the street that those who are threatened by this “Jesus movement” are lying in wait for Jesus as he enters Jerusalem for Passover.
This is the context as we enter our Gospel story today. In today’s text, Jesus is having supper in the house of Lazarus, Mary and Martha. These three are certainly aware of the charged situation in which they find themselves. These three certainly have heard the whispers of threats to their friend Jesus on the street. These three are most certainly ones who can best judge why Jesus poses such a threat. If anybody were categorically convinced of the truth of Jesus, these three are. All three have witnessed the truth of Jesus with their own eyes and with their own hearts. For this family the truth is, most certainly, that Jesus restores life to the dead. If anyone perceived the truth of promise in Isaiah’s prophecy we read today, that God is about to do a new thing, it was those sitting at table with him in this story.
The existence of Lazarus, whose name means “God is my help,” is the testimony to this new thing God is doing. All of Jesus’ followers, including Lazarus, Martha and Mary, know best who Jesus is, what he is capable of and, perhaps, the price he is about to pay for being such a threat to the status quo.
In John’s Gospel we are poised for the Passover Celebration, the Jewish Celebration of God’s dramatic saving action of his people, moving them from a life of literal, physical, and spiritual bondage, through the waters of the Red Sea, to a new life of freedom. Generations later, held in literal, physical and spiritual bondage, God again seems to be acting in dramatic fashion in the person of this Jesus. Jesus, in John’s Gospel account, will play the role of paschal lamb in this drama.
Jesus sits at table with these three friends in Bethany on his way into Jerusalem for the Passover before the “final” sign of John’s Gospel will be enacted—that is Jesus’ suffering as sacrifice and God’s most dramatic action of raising Jesus from the dead; life will conquer death.
What to do then if you are Mary? What to do with all that is in her as her friend sits at table? Surely now we gain insight into Mary’s movement to take the finest of oil, the most expensive and perfumed oil, and to pour it over Jesus feet. Pistos is the Greek word conjugated to describe this oil. It means refined, pure, derived perhaps from pistachio nut. It will become the oil of anointing for this Jesus who is Messiah, “anointed one” and it will simultaneously become the foreshadowing of the preparation of his body for death. Jesus, anointed as Messiah and prepared for death, will enter Jerusalem where he will soon hear the ecstatic cry of the people for a Messiah King, one who will restore Israel to political and religious independence. What they will get instead will be the suffering servant who will invite God’s final “sign” of resurrection. Those who have followed Jesus and who put their trust in God will enter a whole new way of believing…
living…and acting. Those seated with Jesus at table this night know there is a holy and sacred moment upon them. It seems Mary’s response of pouring the finest perfume is a response to the complex beauty seated before her.
Having been invited into this story, in the tradition of our youngest children who live in God’s story each week in our Godly play curriculum, I invite you now to wonder. Wonder with me as we make this transition to Holy Week and into the deepest mystery of our life and faith.
I wonder what new thing is now springing forth in your life that you might perceive?
I wonder where you see holy, sacred complex beauty in your life over which you may wish to pour the finest of oil?
I wonder how your perception might lead you to a new way of believing…living… acting?
John 12:1-8
On this fifth Sunday of our Lenten journey we stand poised to make our transition to Holy Week. We are preparing to move toward Jerusalem with Jesus. In the gospel of John, Jesus is spending time with his friends in Bethany. In John’s account, Jesus has executed seven dramatic miracles among the people up to this time. These signs point to the truth of God’s saving action in the person of Jesus.
Jesus has already turned water into wine at Cana; healed the official’s son in Capernaum; made a crippled man walk and a blind man see; fed the five-thousand by the Sea of Galilee; and walked on water.
The “sign” symphony, if you will, comes to a poignant crescendo when Jesus raises his friend, Lazarus, from the dead. This action, of course, stirs the hopes and imaginations of those who follow Jesus thirsting for new life, and also further stirs the insecurities and defenses of those who see a threat to the religious and political status establishment in peoples’ reactions to Jesus. In fact, so threatening is this Jesus that there are whispers on the street that those who are threatened by this “Jesus movement” are lying in wait for Jesus as he enters Jerusalem for Passover.
This is the context as we enter our Gospel story today. In today’s text, Jesus is having supper in the house of Lazarus, Mary and Martha. These three are certainly aware of the charged situation in which they find themselves. These three certainly have heard the whispers of threats to their friend Jesus on the street. These three are most certainly ones who can best judge why Jesus poses such a threat. If anybody were categorically convinced of the truth of Jesus, these three are. All three have witnessed the truth of Jesus with their own eyes and with their own hearts. For this family the truth is, most certainly, that Jesus restores life to the dead. If anyone perceived the truth of promise in Isaiah’s prophecy we read today, that God is about to do a new thing, it was those sitting at table with him in this story.
The existence of Lazarus, whose name means “God is my help,” is the testimony to this new thing God is doing. All of Jesus’ followers, including Lazarus, Martha and Mary, know best who Jesus is, what he is capable of and, perhaps, the price he is about to pay for being such a threat to the status quo.
In John’s Gospel we are poised for the Passover Celebration, the Jewish Celebration of God’s dramatic saving action of his people, moving them from a life of literal, physical, and spiritual bondage, through the waters of the Red Sea, to a new life of freedom. Generations later, held in literal, physical and spiritual bondage, God again seems to be acting in dramatic fashion in the person of this Jesus. Jesus, in John’s Gospel account, will play the role of paschal lamb in this drama.
Jesus sits at table with these three friends in Bethany on his way into Jerusalem for the Passover before the “final” sign of John’s Gospel will be enacted—that is Jesus’ suffering as sacrifice and God’s most dramatic action of raising Jesus from the dead; life will conquer death.
What to do then if you are Mary? What to do with all that is in her as her friend sits at table? Surely now we gain insight into Mary’s movement to take the finest of oil, the most expensive and perfumed oil, and to pour it over Jesus feet. Pistos is the Greek word conjugated to describe this oil. It means refined, pure, derived perhaps from pistachio nut. It will become the oil of anointing for this Jesus who is Messiah, “anointed one” and it will simultaneously become the foreshadowing of the preparation of his body for death. Jesus, anointed as Messiah and prepared for death, will enter Jerusalem where he will soon hear the ecstatic cry of the people for a Messiah King, one who will restore Israel to political and religious independence. What they will get instead will be the suffering servant who will invite God’s final “sign” of resurrection. Those who have followed Jesus and who put their trust in God will enter a whole new way of believing…
living…and acting. Those seated with Jesus at table this night know there is a holy and sacred moment upon them. It seems Mary’s response of pouring the finest perfume is a response to the complex beauty seated before her.
Having been invited into this story, in the tradition of our youngest children who live in God’s story each week in our Godly play curriculum, I invite you now to wonder. Wonder with me as we make this transition to Holy Week and into the deepest mystery of our life and faith.
I wonder what new thing is now springing forth in your life that you might perceive?
I wonder where you see holy, sacred complex beauty in your life over which you may wish to pour the finest of oil?
I wonder how your perception might lead you to a new way of believing…living… acting?
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
The Third Sunday of Lent
March 7, 2010
The Ven. Richard I Cluett
There’s this guy. He lives down there in Virginia Beach. He is a preacher who has a TV program. He fancies himself God’s voice, God’s truth. He believes that he has a unique insight into the mind, heart, will, intentions and actions of God.
One time he said that he prayed to God that a storm would be diverted from Virginia Beach and God did it and sent the storm to some other less righteous place. Another time he said that the devastation of New Orleans in the hurricane and storm surge of Katrina was God’s judgment on the modern day Sodom and Gomorrah that is New Orleans. Recently he said that God destroyed Haiti with the earthquake because more than 100 years ago the people of Haiti had made a pact with the devil when they founded their country.
What do you think?
Jesus said, there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. He asked them, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans?... Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you…
We human beings are always looking to see what or who is to blame for the bad stuff that happens. “Whose fault is it? What did they do to bring this on?” A mother blames herself because her child is born with some condition or is afflicted later with some disease. She says, “It must be my fault?”
But, it just is. It just happened. Towers fall, buildings fall down, earthquakes shatter, storms hit, disease strikes and people die. Sometimes it just happens.
It is not surprising to me that in the midst of crisis or chaos, when our resources are low and we are running on empty, that we begin to search around, flail around, for some reason, some cause, some purpose, someone or something to blame. It is human nature. We want to know why. “Why?! Why did this happen? I don’t understand! Tell me why? What did I do? What did they do to deserve this?”
In the midst of things we cannot control, we crave control over the chaos of our lives.
The answer to the questions is most often “Nothing”. They did nothing. No one did anything. It just happened. Towers fall, buildings crash down, earthquakes shatter, storms hit, disease strikes and people die.
But we all know, too, that some people do do bad things. People do suffer at the hands of others, because of the decisions of others, because of the willful violence of others, because of the politics of others, because of the policies of others, because of the power needs of others – people do suffer, through no fault of their own. Indeed some suffer horribly at the hands of others.
As but one example, think of our brothers and sisters and the church in Southern Sudan; what they have suffered in the last 50 years at the hands of the government of Sudan: rape, war, pillage, destruction, death and exile. They deserved none of it.
As one commentator said, eventually we have to come to the point “where we have to recognize bastardry for what it is and stop attributing everything to God.” People do bad things that do harm to others.
In the fig tree example Jesus reminds us that there are consequences for our actions, for our behavior. If we break the law, eventually we will be caught and punished according to the law. If we abuse our bodies, if we don’t care for our bodies, our health, disease and death are more likely to happen sooner rather than later. There are consequences for our behavior.
For those of us in a relationship with God in Christ, it is not enough just to be, just to exist, simply to loll around, to take up space, we are called to do something.
In the lesson from Exodus, we hear that God is with us; that God is concerned about and involved in life and in the lives that God has created. It is the promise that is at the heart of our relationship with God. That God is with us and will be with us always and ever, now and forever.
We hear God’s words spoken to Moses, and through Moses to all of Israel and to us their descendants, “I have seen the misery of my people; I have heard their cry. I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them… Moses, I am sending you to my people.”
God with… God was with Abraham, God was with Isaac. God was with Jacob. All of history testifies to the presence of God with the people even when we don’t know it, even when we can’t see it, even when we don’t feel it, in all circumstances of our lives… God knows, God sees, God hears, God comes to be with us, often embodied in another human being.
A friend tells about a friend, a single mother and her small daughter. “Late one night their city was in flames. In the midst of it all a little girl was in her bed trying to go to sleep, but the noises out¬side her home — shouts, flashing lights, gunfire, po¬lice cars, fire engines — kept her awake. She was afraid and she was crying. ‘Hush, child, God is with you,’ her mother called from the bedroom across the hall. The frightened little girl answered in her small voice, ‘I know he is, but could you come and get into bed with me. I need someone with skin.’”
If our response is one of compassion, then the presence of God will be revealed in the chaos or misery, in the midst of people’s lives whatever their circumstances. God's people will be comforted and we will live in a community of faith, witness, and ministry that is an image of the loving, compassion¬ate, powerful presence of God in the here-and-now. It will be like it is in heaven and is meant to be here on earth.
When Jesus teaches, he almost always says "The kingdom of heaven is like...the kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, like a pearl; like a net full of fish.
Well, The kingdom of heaven is like – you and me, whenever we soothe, feed, build, clothe, advocate for, pray for, be with one another. Whenever we become indignant on behalf of the poor and suffering; whenever we bring resources to help make the world more just, whenever we hear someone's cry, and we go to them, and we be with them.
We stand on holy ground, in the presence of the Living God who has “seen the misery of the people; has heard their cry; who knows their sufferings, and has come to deliver them.” and who sends us to be his compassionate, comforting presence in the world; and who will come to judge us, not on our rate of suc¬cess, but on our faithfulness. This is the God who calls us.
The Ven. Richard I Cluett
There’s this guy. He lives down there in Virginia Beach. He is a preacher who has a TV program. He fancies himself God’s voice, God’s truth. He believes that he has a unique insight into the mind, heart, will, intentions and actions of God.
One time he said that he prayed to God that a storm would be diverted from Virginia Beach and God did it and sent the storm to some other less righteous place. Another time he said that the devastation of New Orleans in the hurricane and storm surge of Katrina was God’s judgment on the modern day Sodom and Gomorrah that is New Orleans. Recently he said that God destroyed Haiti with the earthquake because more than 100 years ago the people of Haiti had made a pact with the devil when they founded their country.
What do you think?
Jesus said, there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. He asked them, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans?... Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you…
We human beings are always looking to see what or who is to blame for the bad stuff that happens. “Whose fault is it? What did they do to bring this on?” A mother blames herself because her child is born with some condition or is afflicted later with some disease. She says, “It must be my fault?”
But, it just is. It just happened. Towers fall, buildings fall down, earthquakes shatter, storms hit, disease strikes and people die. Sometimes it just happens.
It is not surprising to me that in the midst of crisis or chaos, when our resources are low and we are running on empty, that we begin to search around, flail around, for some reason, some cause, some purpose, someone or something to blame. It is human nature. We want to know why. “Why?! Why did this happen? I don’t understand! Tell me why? What did I do? What did they do to deserve this?”
In the midst of things we cannot control, we crave control over the chaos of our lives.
The answer to the questions is most often “Nothing”. They did nothing. No one did anything. It just happened. Towers fall, buildings crash down, earthquakes shatter, storms hit, disease strikes and people die.
But we all know, too, that some people do do bad things. People do suffer at the hands of others, because of the decisions of others, because of the willful violence of others, because of the politics of others, because of the policies of others, because of the power needs of others – people do suffer, through no fault of their own. Indeed some suffer horribly at the hands of others.
As but one example, think of our brothers and sisters and the church in Southern Sudan; what they have suffered in the last 50 years at the hands of the government of Sudan: rape, war, pillage, destruction, death and exile. They deserved none of it.
As one commentator said, eventually we have to come to the point “where we have to recognize bastardry for what it is and stop attributing everything to God.” People do bad things that do harm to others.
In the fig tree example Jesus reminds us that there are consequences for our actions, for our behavior. If we break the law, eventually we will be caught and punished according to the law. If we abuse our bodies, if we don’t care for our bodies, our health, disease and death are more likely to happen sooner rather than later. There are consequences for our behavior.
For those of us in a relationship with God in Christ, it is not enough just to be, just to exist, simply to loll around, to take up space, we are called to do something.
In the lesson from Exodus, we hear that God is with us; that God is concerned about and involved in life and in the lives that God has created. It is the promise that is at the heart of our relationship with God. That God is with us and will be with us always and ever, now and forever.
We hear God’s words spoken to Moses, and through Moses to all of Israel and to us their descendants, “I have seen the misery of my people; I have heard their cry. I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them… Moses, I am sending you to my people.”
God with… God was with Abraham, God was with Isaac. God was with Jacob. All of history testifies to the presence of God with the people even when we don’t know it, even when we can’t see it, even when we don’t feel it, in all circumstances of our lives… God knows, God sees, God hears, God comes to be with us, often embodied in another human being.
A friend tells about a friend, a single mother and her small daughter. “Late one night their city was in flames. In the midst of it all a little girl was in her bed trying to go to sleep, but the noises out¬side her home — shouts, flashing lights, gunfire, po¬lice cars, fire engines — kept her awake. She was afraid and she was crying. ‘Hush, child, God is with you,’ her mother called from the bedroom across the hall. The frightened little girl answered in her small voice, ‘I know he is, but could you come and get into bed with me. I need someone with skin.’”
If our response is one of compassion, then the presence of God will be revealed in the chaos or misery, in the midst of people’s lives whatever their circumstances. God's people will be comforted and we will live in a community of faith, witness, and ministry that is an image of the loving, compassion¬ate, powerful presence of God in the here-and-now. It will be like it is in heaven and is meant to be here on earth.
When Jesus teaches, he almost always says "The kingdom of heaven is like...the kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field, like a pearl; like a net full of fish.
Well, The kingdom of heaven is like – you and me, whenever we soothe, feed, build, clothe, advocate for, pray for, be with one another. Whenever we become indignant on behalf of the poor and suffering; whenever we bring resources to help make the world more just, whenever we hear someone's cry, and we go to them, and we be with them.
We stand on holy ground, in the presence of the Living God who has “seen the misery of the people; has heard their cry; who knows their sufferings, and has come to deliver them.” and who sends us to be his compassionate, comforting presence in the world; and who will come to judge us, not on our rate of suc¬cess, but on our faithfulness. This is the God who calls us.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)