Strange beauty

Have you ever had one of those moments where you just get the feeling that something has been set in motion? Where you can't quite put your finger on it, but it feels like the wind is blowing, and not just the wind of spring weather, but the unexpected rush of the Spirit (the ruach, if you will)? From the time I awoke to the time I stepped into the office today, my morning was filled with strange things, beautiful things, and even strangely beautiful things.

My day began in the flat-out strange category. I woke up remembering strange dreams and strange half-awake thoughts that had happened to me overnight. But even stranger than that was the fact that I awoke with "Yatta" stuck in my head. Seriously, if you take the risk of following this link and watching the video,you will understand just how STRANGE it was to have this rattling around in my head. It's a relic from college, when some great and hilarious guys would send out a "Wednesday Nonesense" email each week, with a link to something strange, silly, or bizarrely humorous. Yatta was one of these. Waking up with it stuck in my head was weird and silly, but also a nice reminder of old friends, and a nice catalyst for nostalgia about people, places and memories from many years ago. Yatta is strange...but it definitely put me in a good mood.

As I was driving along Chicago Avenue today, entering the residential corridor of historic houses leading up to North Central College and downtown Naperville, the weather was having an internal conflict. It could not decide whether to be sunny or cloudy. Ahead of me, to the west, storm clouds filled the sky, corner to corner. All was deep gray facing forward.

But behind me, the sun was shining, and shining brightly. The sides of the street were lined with yellow flowering trees that have sprung into bloom with all of the rain we've had recently. These yellow flowers caught the sunlight and glowed up against the background of dark gray clouds, pulling out the blue and green undertones in the sky. The stormy/glowing contrast was spectacular. It was a strange combination of sun and storm, light and shadow, brightness and dark. And in all of its strangeness, it was the most beautiful thing I've seen in a long while.

By the time I wound my way through downtown Naperville, the wind had set the sky in motion, and the odd combination of sun and clouds had dissolved into a cold, flat, overcast sky. But even without the glow of the sun, I noticed that the rainy weeks had set all of downtown into bloom. The trees that all winter had been budding with white Christmas lights were now budding with white and pink and yellow flowers. Even if it doesn't feel like spring, even if the sun has been shy, even if the rain has been a cold rain rather than a warm one, the trees betray the fact that spring is indeed here.

Not only the trees, but the tulips that were planted along the river and throughout the Riverwalk. I hadn't noticed until today that they had been planted. A foil for the dreary day, they were bright and colorful, full of life and hope and joy.

As I looked around a world in bloom, a world thriving and being nurtured by the rain-filled sky, and as I drove, feeling the wind pull my car back and forth, hearing that stupid Yatta song running on repeat in my brain...

...I think I heard a still-small voice.

It said, "things are on the move."

It wasn't an ominous voice. It wasn't a happy-go-lucky voice. It was a serious voice, full of hope. It was a voice that felt neither optimistic nor pessimistic...it just felt true.

I have no idea what these "things" are that are on the move. I feel a little silly for even talking like this, as if I'm claiming any powers of premonition or providence. But there was no doubt in my heart that there was something stirring.

On this morning of strange beauty, I look forward to whatever strange beauty lies ahead, being carried along on the wind of the spirit.

Resurrection of our Lord: Matthew 28:1-10

So they left the tomb quickly with fear
and great joy, and ran to tell his
disciples. Matthew 28:8
(Kirsten Malcolm Berry)

After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, "Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, 'He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.' This is my message for you." So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples. Suddenly Jesus met them and said, "Greetings!" And they came to him, took hold of his feet, and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, "Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me."

Holy Saturday: Romans 6:3-11 & John 20:1-18

Let anyone who is thirsty come to me.
John 7:37
(Kristen Malcolm Berry)

Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his. We know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be destroyed, and we might no longer be enslaved to sin. For whoever has died is freed from sin. But if we have died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. We know that Christ, being raised from the dead, will never die again; death no longer has dominion over him. The death he died, he died to sin, once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus.

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him." Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus' head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes. But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping?" She said to them, "They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him." When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?" Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away." Jesus said to her, "Mary!" She turned and said to him in Hebrew, "Rabbouni!" (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, "Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, 'I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'" Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, "I have seen the Lord"; and she told them that he had said these things to her.

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb. Early on the first day of the week, Mary came to the tomb. In the middle of the night, with the darkness surrounding her, Mary came to the tomb. Knowing the old, familiar feel of darkness, feeling the old, familiar darkness of grief, Mary came to the tomb.

Mary’s encounter with the risen Jesus began in the darkness, and tonight, so has ours.

“This is the night,” we sang. This is the night. This is the long night of faith between the cross and the empty tomb. This is the night that begins where Good Friday left off, with the candles all snuffed out, with the cross plainly in view, with silence and uncertainty.

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb.

She walked as a person of old hopes, defeated dreams, lost expectations. And yet...and yet. Under cover of dark, she came to the tomb. Something in her wasn’t content with the old world. Something in her knew that there was still newness to be found, and whatever flicker of promise or curiosity that was left in her soul led her back to the garden.

This is the night.

This is the night that we ourselves gathered in the holy darkness to seek God’s promise that our old condemnation to death could be vanquished by new life; hoping that the the old brokenness in our bones could be transformed into the new wholeness that we ache for. This is the night that we rebelled against old news of the cross and death, hoping against all hope that here, we’d see the strange, unexpected glory of resurrection.

In the darkness, we comforted ourselves with old stories of faith. We took comfort in stories that assured us of God’s faithfulness throughout the ages. We were reminded, over and over again, that God pulls new life out of old places.

Out of the old chaos, the old swirling of the tohu vavohu, the face of the deep, God pulled out the newness of creation, the fresh beauty of order and life.

Out of the old life of weary slavery, God pulled forth the Israelites, passing them safely through the waters toward the new land promised to them, the land flowing with milk and honey.

Out of old Abraham’s faithful heart, a heart so faithful to God that he would bring Isaac to the edge of sacrifice, out of the old promise God brought forth the new promise of ancestors as numerous as the stars in the heavens.

From old bones, lying in dust and grief, wasting away in the dry heat, God pulled together sinews and muscles and breathed into them the breath of new life. The new answer to the old question, “Can these bones live?” is a resounding “Yes!”

Over and against this world’s “old news” of hunger, thirst, pain, and weariness, God promises a new world overflowing with mercy, a place of promise at the edge of saving waters.

Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego stood up up to the old regime, to the old rule, to an old life of blind allegiance to human lordship, and, passing unharmed through the fire, God used them to bring new faith to the King and all the land.

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb.

And it was empty!

“Whom are you looking for?” the man asked, this man who might as well have been the gardener, this man who could not possibly have been Jesus, because death is as old as the beginning of time, and as final as the end of time.

“They have taken away my Lord,” Mary says, crushed with defeat, grieving a friend and teacher, grieving the hope she had that the world could ever be new.

Jesus said to her, “Mary,” calling her by name, and her eyes were opened. Off she runs to the other disciples, to the villages, to the corners of the earth, shouting “I have seen the Lord!”

Tonight, through fire and water, bread and wine, old stories and new stories, we join Mary and the disciples as they run through the garden, peeking into the empty tomb, finding their friends, overwhelmed with the sheer power of coming face-to-face with the impossible-come-true.

Their empty tomb is our empty tomb, the corner of the garden where the old story of death and defeat passed away into the rising brightness of God’s new morning.

N.T. Wright, in an Easter sermon entitled “God’s Future in Person,” says this:

Jesus has gone through death and out into God’s new world, God’s new creation, and to our astonishment he’s come forwards into our world, which is still in Old Time, to tell us that the day has in fact dawned and that even though we feel sleepy and it still seems dark out there the new world has begun and we’d better wake up and get busy.

That, of course, is part of what the gospel writers were trying to tell us with their stories about very early morning, and people running to and fro, and discovering that something had happened which they weren’t expecting, for which they weren’t ready, and which both fulfilled their wildest dreams and turned those same dreams inside out and upside down in the process. And unless you’re prepared to have something like that happen to you, you’d be better off staying in bed instead of coming here...to have the water of Jesus’ victory over death splashed over you, to watch God’s new fire and to pray for that fire to be lit by the Spirit inside you. (N.T. Wright, “God’s Future in Person,” Easter Vigil 2007)

Christ’s resurrection is not for his own sake. It is one hundred percent for our sake, and for the sake of the whole creation. Christ died, was buried, and rose again that we, too, might have the power to die to the old and rise with the new.

Paul asks, “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?” Our baptism is our burial. In the waters of baptism, we die to sin, die to brokenness, die to fear and condemnation, die to the old creation that lingers in our souls. But we rise from those waters as people cleansed and claimed, people very much alive and full of new life, and full of the promise of resurrection. “For,” as Paul says, “if we have been united with [Christ] in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.”

Christ has vanquished death so that we, too, may defy death. Christ is the firstborn of God’s new creation so that we, too, can be made new.

This is the night.

This is the night in which the darkness has been transformed into holy brightness. This is the night in which death has died and life has risen.

This is the night when all the old has been made new.

Rejoice, therefore, choirs of angels! Rejoice, therefore, you dry bones and you waters of the flood! Rejoice, therefore, children of Abraham and Isaac, all those who have passed through the fire and water and remain yet unscathed! Rejoice, all creation! For Jesus Christ is risen.

Alleluia! Amen.

Good Friday: John 19:13-22, 28-30

We have this hope, a sure and steadfast
anchor of the soul. Hebrews 6:19
(Kirsten Malcolm Berry)

Today is a day when the gloom of the weather - gray, chilly, rainy - matches the gloom of the day. It is Good Friday, the follow-up story to what we experienced last night on Maundy Thursday. It is a bleak day, when we recall Jesus' suffering and death. I told Matt that the poignancy of Good Friday worship, for me, is looking around at the dark sanctuary, which has been stripped of all banners, candles, and decorations. Tonight is the night when we sit and experience what it feels like when "God has left the building."

On this Good Friday, a picture is worth a thousand words. All images are artwork from today's noon Stations of the Cross worship. Each piece was created by a member of our congregation.

FIRST STATION: JESUS IS CONDEMNED TO DEATH
As soon as it was morning, the chief priests held a consultation with the elders and scribes and the whole council. They bound Jesus, led him away, and handed him over to Pilate. Pilate spoke to the crowd: "What do you wish me to do with the man you call the king of the Jews?" They shouted back, "Crucify him!" Pilate said to them, "Why, what evil has he done?" But they shouted all the more, "Crucify him!" So, after flogging Jesus, Pilate handed him over to be crucified.

SECOND STATION: JESUS TAKES UP HIS CROSS
Carrying the cross by himself, Jesus went out to the place called The Place of the Skull, which in Hebrew is called Golgotha. Although he was a Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered. Like a lamb that is led to the slaughter and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he did not open his mouth. Worthy is the Lamb who was slain to receive power and riches, and wisdom and strength, and honor and glory and blessing.

THIRD STATION: THE CROSS IS LAID ON SIMON OF CYRENE
As they led Jesus away, they seized a man, Simon of Cyrene, who was coming from the country, and they laid the cross on him, and made him carry it behind Jesus. "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for my yoke is easy, and my burden is light."

FOURTH STATION: JESUS MEETS THE WOMEN OF JERUSALEM
A great number of the people followed Jesus, and among them were women who were wailing for him. But Jesus turned to them and said, "Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children."

FIFTH STATION: JESUS IS STRIPPED OF HIS GARMENTS
When they came to a place called Golgotha, they offered him wine to drink, mixed with gall; but when he tasted it, he would not drink it. The soldiers divided his garments among them by casting lots. This was to fulfill what the scripture says, "They divided my clothes among themselves, and for my clothing they cast lots."

SIXTH STATION: JESUS IS NAILED TO THE CROSS
When they came to the place that is called The Skull, there they crucified Jesus; and with him they crucified two criminals, one on the right, and one on the left. He poured out himself to death, and yet he bore the sin of many.

SEVENTH STATION: JESUS DIES ON THE CROSS
When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, "Woman, behold your son." Then he said to the disciple, "Behold your mother." And when Jesus had received the vinegar he said, "It is finished!" Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

EIGHTH STATION: JESUS IS LAID IN THE TOMB
When it was evening, there came a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph, who was also a disciple of Jesus. He went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then Pilate ordered it to be given to him. So Joseph took the body and wrapped it in a clean linen cloth and laid it in his own new tomb, which he had hewn in the rock. He then rolled a great stone to the door of the tomb.

Maundy Thursday: John 13:1-7, 31b-35

Then he poured water into a basin
and began to wash the disciples' feet.
John 13:5
(Kirsten Malcolm Berry)

Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him. And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, "Lord, are you going to wash my feet?" Jesus answered, "You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand." Peter said to him, "You will never wash my feet." Jesus answered, "Unless I wash you, you have no share with me." Simon Peter said to him, "Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!" Jesus said to him, "One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you." For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, "Not all of you are clean." After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, "Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord — and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them. "Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, 'Where I am going, you cannot come.' I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."

As I read this story through this Maundy Thursday, I was particularly struck by the somber finality of the scene. Jesus has gathered his disciples for his last meal, something emotional and jarring if we think about its parallel - the last meal ordered and eaten by a prisoner prior to execution. To be quite honest, thinking about the simultaneous finality and yet insignificance of a prisoner's last meal makes me feel rather disturbed and even queasy. How strange it must feel to have to decide what the last thing you eat will be, knowing that on the other side of that meal is your own death. It makes me shudder.

Here, Jesus is eating his own last meal, in the company of his disciples, and ever movement of the evening feels sad, sore, and final. There is grief behind this story. Jesus gives his last exhortations to the disciples, with grief in his voice that he will soon be taken from them. There is grief in his actions as he chooses to serve his disciples, letting that be the last image they have of their time together.

He serves them in the meal - blessing the bread, offering the wine, giving them himself in the guise of grapes and grain. He serves them as a common slave, emptying himself, kneeling, washing their feet. He serves them in his words, showing for them great love and urging them to be blessings to the world, as he has blessed them to be. Each movement in this last scene is deliberate, done with great care, crafted by Jesus in the same way that you craft your goodbyes to dying loved ones as you gather at their deathbeds. Each moment needs to be meaningful, memorable, weighty, and not trite.

The reason that these movements carry such weight is because of the immense love that is behind them. I firmly believe that on Maundy Thursday, Jesus is not thinking about resurrection or reunion with his disciples (and the whole world!). Rather, he is only focused on the imminent inevitable. He is about to be separated from those whom he loves. He is about to face troubles and trials and sufferings. He is on his way to dying. For real dying. Dying and all of the emotional and physical pain that go with it.

So this last meal is his last chance to make sure the disciples know how he feels about them, and about all the world that he has come to love and serve and save. As he gathers the disciples for the Passover meal, we read that Jesus, "having loved his own who were in the world, loved them to the end." Everything that happens at the table and on the floor happens in the context of this great love, a love that prevailed in Jesus' heart all the way through his final moments to his last breath.

After he washes the disciples' feet, he returns the table, asking gently, "Do you know what I have just done to you?" He goes on to tell them the heart of his mission in the world: that they, who have been loved and served by Christ, are the ones who are blessed to love and serve the world. He says, "I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."

The final moments of Jesus' life, his final moments with his disciples, the finality of his time on earth as he looks ahead toward the threat of defeat and death, are spent talking about love. I don't think this is just an emotional man getting sentimental. I think that, for Jesus, this is his last chance to boil down his whole life's mission into a few words. All the miracles, all the teachings, all the meals, all of them have at their heart this one message: I, Jesus, came to love and to serve. You, my disciples, must carry on this legacy. Love one another. Love one another enough to get your hands dirty. Love one another enough to cross boundaries. Love one another enough to get in trouble with those who don't understand. Love one another, even to the point of death.

This, friends, is the message of Maundy Thursday. It is not time to rush ahead to the cross, or worse yet, to rush ahead to the resurrection. Tonight is the part of our three-day worship when we remember, deeply remember, the heart of Christ and the heart of his life among us. The bread and wine of Christ's body are given for us, out of his deep love. Christ stoops to live among us and serve us, out of his deep love. And Christ sends us out to be blessings, wrapping our own arms around the world in nothing other than Christ's loving embrace.

Wednesday in Holy Week: John 13:21-32

Then he took a loaf of bread, and when
he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it
to them, saying, "This is my body..." Luke 22:19
(Kirsten Malcolm Berry)

After saying this Jesus was troubled in spirit, and declared, "Very truly, I tell you, one of you will betray me." The disciples looked at one another, uncertain of whom he was speaking. One of his disciples — the one whom Jesus loved — was reclining next to him; Simon Peter therefore motioned to him to ask Jesus of whom he was speaking. So while reclining next to Jesus, he asked him, "Lord, who is it?" Jesus answered, "It is the one to whom I give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish." So when he had dipped the piece of bread, he gave it to Judas son of Simon Iscariot. After he received the piece of bread, Satan entered into him. Jesus said to him, "Do quickly what you are going to do." Now no one at the table knew why he said this to him. Some thought that, because Judas had the common purse, Jesus was telling him, "Buy what we need for the festival"; or, that he should give something to the poor. So, after receiving the piece of bread, he immediately went out. And it was night. When he had gone out, Jesus said, "Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once."

Last year, I remember writing about this passage and coming to a newfound appreciation for it when I did my research and learned that Jesus offering Judas the dipped bread was, in fact, a sign of great love and honor, and the amazing sign it is to us that God shows us such deep love in Christ, even despite our own betrayals and shortcomings. I still find this very moving.

But this year, I have to say, I feel dissatisfied with the above passage. I have little patience today for what seems to be a big charade. Jesus becoming troubled in spirit, talking dramatically (even melodramatically?) about how he would be betrayed by one sitting at the table, the way that he has to be prodded by John (who was first prodded by Peter) to share the identity of the betrayer, and then the way that he doesn't come right out and gives a name, but instead makes a big display of the bread, the dipping, and the handing over of it to reveal the betrayer.

It reminds me of the way that reality shows end each week. Maybe Survivor, when the votes are tallied at tribal council. Maybe the Bachelor, giving away his roses. Maybe the Biggest Loser and the way that everyone reveals their vote using a covered plate (how clever). Maybe America's Next Top Model, when Tyra keeps revealing the pictures of those who are safe for another week. Maybe even American Idol or Dancing With the Stars, and the paring down of contestants into a small group of the lowest vote-getters. (I don't watch that much reality TV, I promise...)

Each show has its closing ritual - the awkward, contrived, melodramatic space where the group has to look one another in the eye, rehash each others' virtues and faults, second-guess their actions and efforts, and come face-to-face with the reality of the situation (despite whatever meddling the producers have done along the way). And then...

A commercial break.

And THEN, the reveal. In some of these reality shows, nearly half of the show is dedicated to the "voting off" process. Would it be easier just to reveal the episode's loser without all the pomp and ceremony? Of course. Would it be better TV? Well, probably not. Would it be as effective? No! This is because there is something important about the suspense, no matter how contrived.

The suspense gives each contestant time to worry that they might be the one voted off. The slow pace forces each contestant into a place where they consider all the reasons that they might honestly be the one going home. The drawn-out ceremony allows the TV audience to weigh again the merits and problems with their favorite (or least-favorite!) competitors. It gives all of us a chance to consider that we might be wrong.

So maybe this business with Jesus and Judas serves the same purpose. The slow pace, the contrived ceremony, the artificially-imposed suspense: these things give each disciple plenty of time to realize that they might actually be the one. It gives them space to consider the lesser parts of their souls, and to admit that they are as likely to be betrayers as anyone else. The slow pace of things gives that same opportunity to each of us as we read the account.

Because the truth of the matter is that we all have our own reasons to believe that we are the ones capable of denying and betraying Jesus. We all have times when our motives are less-than-honorable, or times when we take the easy way out, or times when we would rather save our own skin rather than stand up for what is right.

So I guess this brings me right back to last year, and right back to the bread. Jesus handed off the bread to Judas, honoring him, loving him, promising to die for him. When we remember the Last Supper in worship tomorrow night, Jesus hands each of us the bread as well. We've had time to think about the sinful parts of ourselves - to consider how are prone to betrayal and denial. But in that bread, given to us and for us, we know that we, like Judas, are yet redeemed.

It turns out that Jesus was never much a fan of voting people off the island...

Tuesday in Holy Week: John 12:20-26, 31-36

*God is light and in him
there is no darkness at all. I John 1:5
(Kirsten Malcolm Berry)

Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, "Sir, we wish to see Jesus." Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. Jesus answered them, "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life will lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor. Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself." He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die. The crowd answered him, "We have heard from the law that the Messiah remains forever. How can you say that the Son of Man must be lifted up? Who is this Son of Man?" Jesus said to them, "The light is with you for a little longer. Walk while you have the light, so that the darkness may not overtake you. If you walk in the darkness, you do not know where you are going. While you have the light, believe in the light, so that you may become children of light."

This passage is an image-fest.

We have the image of a grain of wheat being buried in the ground - metaphorically dying - so that it can rise up and bear fruit. Is Jesus talking about his own death, that it is only by his death that his mission and message will come to bear fruit in the world? Is he saying that only by his death will we be able to receive the fruits of his resurrection, namely the fulfilled promise of new creation and new life? Or is he talking about us - that only when we die to our old lives, the old regime, the old systems and selfish desires, only then will we be able to rise up as God's children, bearing the fruits of love, compassion, and justice in the world?

We have the topsy-turvy images of losing a life in order to gain a life, and hating a life in order to keep a life. Again, we have this same sense that there is something eternal to be gained from loss, whether we are talking about Jesus' death or our own lives.

And then this image of light warding off the darkness. Jesus is the light, the one who is "with [the disciples] for a little longer." But more than that, Jesus plays darkness and light off of one another, talking about how hard it is to walk when it is dark and how much better it is to walk when it is light, as if he is reminding all who are listening that it hurts to stub your toe on a chair in the middle of the night when all the lights are off and you get up from sleep to go to the bathroom. Jesus is the light, and while he tells the disciples that it is far easier to believe in him - the light - while he is still with them, of course we are stuck in a place where we have to believe in a light that we have not yet seen, at least not in the flesh.

All of these images and paradoxes trip over one another in today's reading. I've been sitting and struggling all day with how to make some general statement about this passage, or how to boil it down into a succinct and pithy statement about faith. But I've found my own thoughts to be as scattered as the images.

So instead, I leave you with picking out the images that speak most clearly to you in this passage as you move through Holy Week. As we look toward death and resurrection at the end of this week, perhaps you need the image of the seed dying and rising to help you focus on Christ's sacrifice. Maybe this Holy Week is a week that is driving you toward renewed commitment to discipleship, and you need to hear about the buried seed bearing fruit in order to remind you that it's okay to let the old self die, because God has even better life in store for you on the other side. Maybe you need a reminder of who is first and who is last, and a nudge to hold more tightly to God and more loosely to the things of this world and your own self-created life. Maybe you just need the assurance that you are a child of light.

But whatever you need from this passage, whatever image you cling to, whatever clever turn of the phrase that captures your imagination, know that Jesus is painting a picture of "before" and "after." Before: darkness, death, sin, misplaced power. After: fruitfulness, life, new life, light, Jesus' reign. And the good news is that through the cross, we have already been given the "after."

Monday in Holy Week: John 12:1-8

Mary took a pound of costly perfume
made of pure nard, anointed Jesus' feet,
and wiped them with her hair... John 12:3
(Kirsten Malcolm Berry)

Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus' feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor? (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) Jesus said, "Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me."

This is the third time in the gospels that we encounter Mary of Bethany. The first time, in Luke, we watch Martha bustle around the house as Mary sits at Jesus' feet, listening to him, having "chosen the better part," as Jesus puts it. The second time, in John, Mary runs out of the house to meet Jesus as he nears the village, falls at his feet, and cries out, "If you had been here, my brother (Lazarus) would not have died!" And then there is today's reading, the third encounter of Jesus and Mary. This time, while Martha serves dinner (staying true to character, indeed!), Mary again settles herself at Jesus' feet, anointing them with perfume and wiping them with her hair.

In a sermon a few weeks back, I referenced my summer as a hospital chaplain, and all the personal challenges and struggles I went through during those eleven weeks. What got me through the hardest days, what pushed me into the rooms of patients and into the center of loved ones, gathered together around the bedside, was a very Martha-like understanding of service. I served and cared for people by finding them coffee or water, by getting them kleenex, by volunteering to find nurses, by offering up my seat, by offering information or by offering to track it down. I served God and served people by keeping busy on their behalf.

I think that many of us function, faith-wise, in Martha-mode. We love God by volunteering at homeless shelters and food pantries. We serve Jesus by helping out at church, signing up for church activities, supporting ministries, and even taking on church and worship leadership roles. We focus on the moving-and-shaking part of our faith development. And all of this is very good. Martha is certainly serving Jesus in a meaningful way by preparing him dinner and making sure that his visit is comfortable and filled with hospitality.

But Mary, on the other hand, seeks to serve and love Jesus by devoting her whole attention to him when he is around. Not devoting her attention to her own actions, but rather to his actions and his words. Sometimes I wonder if the busy parts of my faith are really all about God or all about me. Probably a mix, I suppose. But I think that there are times when being busy in faith is more about being busy than it is about faith.

I don't offer myself many opportunities to be un-busy in faith, to sit still, to be honest about myself and to honestly seek Jesus. Mary is always real in front of Jesus - no flurry of actions to hide behind - and she understands the reality of the Jesus whom she admires. This is why she anoints his feet so extravagantly: Jesus knows her, and she knows Jesus. She knows who he is and what he is about to do. And she knows - deeply knows! - that what Jesus is about to do is for her sake.

In this Holy Week, my challenge to myself is to grab spaces to slow down, to let Jesus really know me and see me, and to move toward Easter knowing ever more deeply that Jesus' death and resurrection are not just vague, general actions, but that they took place FOR ME.

Palm Sunday: Who is this?

If these were silent, the stones would
shout out. Luke 19:40 (Kirsten Malcom Berry)

Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus,
who, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
as something to be exploited,
but emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death —
even death on a cross.
Therefore God also highly exalted him
and gave him the name
that is above every name,
so that at the name of Jesus
every knee should bend,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue should confess
that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father. (Philippians 2:5-11)

When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of
Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, "Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, 'The Lord needs them.' And he will send them immediately." This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying, "Tell the daughter of Zion, 'Look, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.'" The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting, "Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!" When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, "Who is this?" The crowds were saying, "This is the prophet Jesus of Nazareth in Galilee." (Matthew 21:1-11)
---
When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking “Who is this?’

I wonder if this was like the time on choir tour when we sang and stayed in Philadelphia the same night that the NBA All-Star game was happening there. I walked with friends around the city post-concert, finding food and exploring, and we suddenly came upon a swirling mass of people. We pushed our way to the edge of the crowd, discovering that everyone was gathered around the entrance to a restaurant that was having a swanky post-game party, with a red carpet and velvet ropes leading to the door. With each limo that pulled up, the crowd buzzed and shifted to see which sports or entertainment celebrity would be revealed when the car door opened. Those of us in the back who couldn’t see would rely on the murmur of the crowd to hear what was going on. There were crowds like this all over the city - anxious and excited people gathering together, hoping to catch a glimpse of somebody famous.

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking “Who is this?”

Our culture simply buzzes over celebrities and interesting people. We know a host of intimate details about celebrities we follow - their favorite foods, the outfits they wear when they go shopping, where they go shopping, their children’s names, their workout routines, their hometowns... We follow celebrities on TV, in magazines, and online to feel like we really know who they are.

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking “Who is this?”

Take ten seconds, right now, to think about your answer to this question, “Who is Jesus?” If you’re brave, write a thought or sentence on your bulletin. If you’re super-brave, show your neighbor what you’ve written.

Throughout Lent, we have been trying to answer this question. The characters in the gospel readings gave us a lot of good answers. Everything from Nicodemus calling him a teacher from God to the woman at the well calling him a prophet to the people in the Samaritan village calling him the savior of the world. The devil in the wilderness hit the nail on the head, calling him Son of God, and the man born blind believes when Jesus calls himself the Son of Man. And then there’s Martha - Martha, in last week’s reading, professing: “Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.” All of these Lenten questions and encounters have been pushing us, step by step, toward a deeper understanding of who Jesus is.

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking “Who is this?”

We, with the crowds, want to know who Jesus is. We, as those drawn through the waters of baptism, as those gathered here in this space to hear good news, as those shouting “Hosanna!” at the arrival of the king, as those who are faithful or seeking or curious, are the ones who want to know, for certain, who Jesus is. We are people who desperately want to know Jesus. It’s not good enough for us just to know what he ate for breakfast or what his favorite restaurant is. We, brothers and sisters, are the ones who crave a real, honest, deep, true answer to the question, “Who is this?”

In our Philippians reading today, Paul tells us exactly who Jesus is: he is the one whom God has highly exalted, giving him the name that is above all names, Jesus Christ the Lord, the savior of the world. But Paul reminds us that Jesus and his identity are not to be found by looking at the glory of God. Rather, Jesus is revealed to us, his truest, “realest” self, by the fact that he “humbled himself and became obedient to the point of death - even death on a cross.”

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil asking, “Who is this?”

If Palm Sunday raises the question “Who is this?” then Good Friday gives us the answer: This is Jesus, the one sent to save the world, not in a blaze of glory, but in a profound sigh on the cross, upon which Jesus revealed to us the fullness of God’s love and the fullness of his mission to bring all creation into God’s merciful embrace.

This is the heart of our faith - that in the cross we see the true face of God in Christ. Martin Luther believed strongly that the cross is the only place that we know for sure who God is and how God saves. The cross is the place where we know for sure who Jesus is.

The theologian Robert Kolb, reflecting upon Luther’s theology of the cross, says

God at his most glorious, in his display of the extent of his mercy and love for his human creatures, appears, Luther believed, in the depth of the shame of the cross. There [God] is to be seen as he really is, in his true righteousness, which is mercy and love. There human beings are to be seen as those who deserve to die eternally but who now through baptismal death have the life Christ gives through his resurrection, forever. (Luther on the Theology of the Cross)

At the center of our faith is this absolute paradox - that we see the glory of God in Christ only through the tragedy of the cross. It is both mind-bending and game-changing.

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil asking, “Who is this?”

We see Christ most truly not in his moments of glory, but in his moments of shame. Likewise, as we look around our world, we see Christ most clearly and intimately in the poor, broken, tired, shameful, and needy parts of our world and our lives.

For the triumph of the cross is the fact that God’s grace and salvation come to all of the broken corners of our world. The promise of the cross is the fact that death and all our little deaths have been defeated. The glory of the cross is the fact that resurrection will come to the dying, and light will vanquish the darkness. The victory of the cross is the fact that God promises us a tree of life, bearing fruit for all the hungry, with leaves that extend into a healing embrace for all the nations.

This is why Paul says in 1 Corinthians that

the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God....God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong; God chose what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are....[this] is the source of your life in Christ Jesus, who became for us wisdom from God, and righteousness and sanctification and redemption.

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking “Who is this?”

One answer comes to us in the words of the poet Sylvia Dunston:

You, Lord, are both Lamb and Shepherd.
You, Lord, are both prince and slave.
You, peacemaker and swordbringer
Of the way you took and gave.
You the everlasting instant;
You, whom we both scorn and crave.

Clothed in light upon the mountain,
Stripped of might upon the cross,
Shining in eternal glory,
Beggar’d by a soldier’s toss,
You, the everlasting instant;
You, who are both gift and cost.

You, who walk each day beside us,
Sit in power at God’s side.
You, who preach a way that’s narrow,
Have a love that reaches wide.
You, the everlasting instant;
You, who are our pilgrim guide.

Worthy is our earthly Jesus!
Worthy is our cosmic Christ!
Worthy your defeat and vict’ry.
Worthy still your peace and strife.
You, the everlasting instant;
You, who are our death and life.
("Christus Paradox")

As we move through this Holy Week, I pray that Jesus might be revealed to you ever more clearly as we enter again into Jesus’ last days and into the intimate details of his last meal, his betrayal, and his death. I pray that Jesus will be known to you ever more deeply as we hold vigil at the tomb, waiting for the stone to again be rolled away so that we can once again see resurrection.

For this Jesus is the one whom God has highly exalted, giving him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

Lent 4: John 9:1-41

As Jesus walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" Jesus answered, "Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God's works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world." When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man's eyes, saying to him, "Go, wash in the pool of Siloam" (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see. The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, "Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?" Some were saying, "It is he." Others were saying, "No, but it is someone like him." He kept saying, "I am the man." But they kept asking him, "Then how were your eyes opened?" He answered, "The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, 'Go to Siloam and wash.' Then I went and washed and received my sight." They said to him, "Where is he?" He said, "I do not know."

They brought to the Pharisees the man who had formerly been blind. Now it was a sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes. Then the Pharisees also began to ask him how he had received his sight. He said to them, "He put mud on my eyes. Then I washed, and now I see." Some of the Pharisees said, "This man is not from God, for he does not observe the sabbath." But others said, "How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?" And they were divided. So they said again to the blind man, "What do you say about him? It was your eyes he opened." He said, "He is a prophet."

The Jews did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they called the parents of the man who had received his sight and asked them, "Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How then does he now see?" His parents answered, "We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind; but we do not know how it is that now he sees, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for himself." His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews; for the Jews had already agreed that anyone who confessed Jesus to be the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue. Therefore his parents said, "He is of age; ask him."

So for the second time they called the man who had been blind, and they said to him, "Give glory to God! We know that this man is a sinner." He answered, "I do not know whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see." They said to him, "What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?" He answered them, "I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?" Then they reviled him, saying, "You are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from." The man answered, "Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing." They answered him, "You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?" And they drove him out.

Jesus heard that they had driven him out, and when he found him, he said, "Do you believe in the Son of Man?" He answered, "And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him." Jesus said to him, "You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he." He said, "Lord, I believe." And he worshiped him. Jesus said, "I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind." Some of the Pharisees near him heard this and said to him, "Surely we are not blind, are we?" Jesus said to them, "If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, 'We see,' your sin remains.