Good Friday (3/30)

MARK 14:66-72 While Peter was below in the courtyard, one of the servant-girls of the high priest came by. When she saw Peter warming himself, she stared at him and said, “You also were with Jesus, the man from Nazareth.” But he denied it, saying, “I do not know or understand what you are talking about.” And he went out into the forecourt. Then the cock crowed. And the servant-girl, on seeing him, began again to say to the bystanders, “This man is one of them.” But again he denied it. Then after a little while the bystanders again said to Peter, “Certainly you are one of them; for you are a Galilean.” But he began to curse, and he swore an oath, “I do not know this man you are talking about.” At that moment the cock crowed for the second time. Then Peter remembered that Jesus had said to him, “Before the cock crows twice, you will deny me three times.” And he broke down and wept.

Where have I denied Jesus? 

Have I dismissed cries for racial justice, arguing about bootstraps and the sweat of my own forebears? 

Have I yielded to the commercialization of life and the desecration of creation, sighing "That's just the way it is"? 

Have I hesitated to act because I was tired, frustrated, annoyed, or distracted? 

Have I acted, but without complete honesty, thereby painting a veneer of falsehood on the structure of a relationship, major or minor? 

Have I leaned hard on my own understanding and turned away from those whose life experience led them to different choices than my own? 

Have I been prideful about my finances, my abilities, my time, my physicality, my ideas, my belongings, or my religiosity? 

Have I closed myself to the stories of LGBTQ+ folk and the families, believing that marshes, dusk, and platypuses might not also have representation in the sexuality and identity spectrum? 

Have I taken in the news of the world and allowed myself to sink into despair, rather than praying for the strength to be God's witness in the place where I am? 

Have I gone through the motions, but called it living? 

Have I gone through the motions, but called it believing? 

Have I gone through the motions and stopped trusting that God is really present, active, and still speaking? 

When have I denied Jesus today? This hour? 

Oh, Peter, my brother! 

Holy Thursday (3/29)

MARK 14:43-65 Immediately, while he was still speaking, Judas, one of the twelve, arrived; andhim there was a crowd with swords and clubs, from the chief priests, the scribes, and the elders. Now the betrayer had given them a sign, saying, “The one I will kiss is the man; arrest him and lead him away under guard.” So when he came, he went up to him at once and said, “Rabbi!” and kissed him. Then they laid hands on him and arrested him. But one of those who stood near drew his sword and struck the slave of the high priest, cutting off his ear.
with
Then Jesus said to them, “Have you come out with swords and clubs to arrest me as though I were a bandit? Day after day I was with you in the temple teaching, and you did not arrest me. But let the scriptures be fulfilled.” All of them deserted him and fled.
A certain young man was following him, wearing nothing but a linen cloth. They caught hold of him, but he left the linen cloth and ran off naked.
They took Jesus to the high priest; and all the chief priests, the elders, and the scribes were assembled. Peter had followed him at a distance, right into the courtyard of the high priest; and he was sitting with the guards, warming himself at the fire.
Now the chief priests and the whole council were looking for testimony against Jesus to put him to death; but they found none. For many gave false testimony against him, and their testimony did not agree. Some stood up and gave false testimony against him, saying, “We heard him say, ‘I will destroy this temple that is made with hands, and in three days I will build another, not made with hands.’” But even on this point their testimony did not agree. Then the high priest stood up before them and asked Jesus, “Have you no answer? What is it that they testify against you?” But he was silent and did not answer. Again the high priest asked him, “Are you the Messiah, the Son of the Blessed One?”
Jesus said, “I am; and ‘you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of the Power,’ and ‘coming with the clouds of heaven.’” Then the high priest tore his clothes and said, “Why do we still need witnesses? You have heard his blasphemy! What is your decision?” All of them condemned him as deserving death. Some began to spit on him, to blindfold him, and to strike him, saying to him, “Prophesy!” The guards also took him over and beat him.

When I read this section, I feel so much grief that I want to turn away from the text. I cannot change the story and I know what is coming, so instead, I would like to shut my eyes to it. It is the way to intellectual self-preservation, for me, to pull myself out of the story and just look at the details. If I stay with the "mind" questions- what's up with the naked guy, is that really blasphemy, why a kiss?- then I can pull away from the pain I feel in my body when I read this. 

When I say the pain I feel in my body, I don't mean like like daily aches and pains or the sharp acuteness of an injury. I mean, that as I read this story, my chest tightens, my eyes burn, and I feel an emotional wrenching that I would really prefer to stop. I don't like these sensations. If I escape "into my head", I am able to ignore the physical experience, but then I am not grappling with the whole body reality of this story. 

When I take a moment to engage the spiritual exercise of Jesuit Imaginative Prayer, I breathe myself into the story. I am so shocked at how many people are around me. I am surprised by how the feeling in the courtyard feels similar to the psychic energy in our own time of violence, power struggle, and helplessness within those watching who wish to act. I am overcome by the awareness that I cannot help Jesus. Simultaneously, I am washed with the knowledge that I can help someone else in the crowd. 

The story is around me, not just in front of me. Jesus' betrayal, trial, and desertion don't just affect him; they are having a powerful effect on others who are watching, who had hoped, whose breath is bated. 

Is this something that I do often- believe that I am watching Jesus, but failing to see where He is in the people around me? In the crowd, when I looked away from the spectacle, I saw people watching outside the courtyard. There were people who were excluded from society, deemed unclean. There were those who hoped for healing and those who just wanted be seen. There were those whose anger masked their hurt and those who were too hurt to care anymore. 

There was a time collapse for me in how similar the situation was to any crowd (in physical space or online) in contemporary life. 

Normally I would write my reflection questions here, but this spiritual exercise was very intense. Trying to write questions now would be putting an artificial stop to what I am feeling and thinking. I don't want to do that. I encourage you, in your own practice today, to pay attention to what arises within your body and your mind. Both parts matter because both parts make up who you are and the wholeness of you, whom God loves and has saved. 


God of peace, open 
My eyes to your beloved  
So that I might grow.

amen. 

Holy Wednesday (3/28)

MARK 14:32-42: They went to a place called Gethsemane; and he said to his disciples, “Sit here while I pray.” He took with him Peter and James and John, and began to be distressed and agitated. And he said to them, “I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and keep awake.” And going a little farther, he threw himself on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. He said, “Abba, Father, for you all things are possible; remove this cup from me; yet, not what I want, but what you want.” He came and found them sleeping; and he said to Peter, “Simon, are you asleep? Could you not keep awake one hour? Keep awake and pray that you may not come into the time of trial; the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak." And again he went away and prayed, saying the same words.  And once more he came and found them sleeping, for their eyes were very heavy; and they did not know what to say to him. He came a third time and said to them, “Are you still sleeping and taking your rest? Enough! The hour has come; the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up, let us be going. See, my betrayer is at hand.”

When I reflect on this passage, I am deeply moved by Jesus' honesty. It's not like I expect the Savior to be a liar, but so often we don't speak the whole truth to one another or to God. We attempt to deceive ourselves (and others), knowing deeply that God knows the truth of us (and still loves us). 

Jesus pours out his fear and grief in this prayer. Does he know exactly what is coming or is he speculating, combining his dread with what he has seen in the years of religious leaders' oppression and Roman occupation? He does not attempt to reframe what he is feeling with quick platitudes about how it will turn out okay or work for the best or even that the Father has not given the Son more than he can handle. He is stricken, scared, and alone. 

His friends do not fully understand his thoughts and feelings, in part because they do not fully comprehend who Jesus is and what he is about. I am grateful, grateful for Jesus' own sake, that the disciples are too tired and stressed to stay awake. It means they're too tired to be like Job's unhelpful friends or to tell Jesus that he's exaggerating or even to turn the narrative about them and their feelings. 

This section narrows its focus on Jesus and his current reality- that a huge sacrifice is coming and that in a fully human body, with human emotions and human logic, it is going to hurt in many and various ways. Is there another way? Any other way? 

How many times have I been in a time of pain, a dark night of the soul, the valley of the shadow of death and wanted out? I have tried bargain with God, tried to reframe and accept, attempted to stuff my feelings. It is the rare occasion that I have said, "Not what I want, but what You want." 

I confess that I have even, on occasion, told God what God wants. I have taken scripture in hand and said, "You have said THIS, now I claim it for my brother, my sister, my son, my husband, my parishioner, my home, my finances,..." That's not exactly submitting to God's will. 

Do I have it in me to imitate Christ in one of his most human moments? Can I be honest about what I feel with the God who already knows it? Can I yield to the mystery of Divine Will, trusting in the plan and future and keeping my eyes open for the forces that oppose God? Do I actually want the holy concession of having my spirit and flesh in alignment with the Spirit and the Word? 

Holy God, help me to be honest with you in my prayers. You wait patiently for me to stop my attempts at control. My heart is restless until it comes to a holy quiet in your peace. Amen.  

Holy Tuesday (3/27/18)

MARK 14:16-31: So the disciples set out and went to the city, and found everything as he had told them; and they prepared the Passover meal.

When it was evening, he came with the twelve. And when they had taken their places and were eating, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me, one who is eating with me.” They began to be distressed and to say to him one after another, “Surely, not I?” He said to them, “It is one of the twelve, one who is dipping bread into the bowl with me. For the Son of Man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that one by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that one not to have been born.”

While they were eating, he took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to them, and said, “Take; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, and all of them drank from it. He said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many. Truly I tell you, I will never again drink of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.”

When they had sung the hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives. And Jesus said to them, “You will all become deserters; for it is written,

‘I will strike the shepherd,

    and the sheep will be scattered.’

But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee.” Peter said to him, “Even though all become deserters, I will not.”  Jesus said to him, “Truly I tell you, this day, this very night, before the cock crows twice, you will deny me three times.” But he said vehemently, “Even though I must die with you, I will not deny you.” And all of them said the same.

In order to better understand what Jesus is saying here, I looked up the passage he quotes. Those quick lines about the shepherd and the sheep are from the 13th chapter of Zechariah. Therein, the Lord uses the prophet to warn against those who had dared to speak falsely in the Lord's name. These false prophets will be punished and many will hide and lie about their deeds. 

One assumes that the disciples would have been familiar with the texts that Jesus quotes. It is also reasonable to conclude that Mark's audience, the original hearers of this gospel, would have recognized that passage. What is harder to picture is how the original audience react to this quotation out of its context? 

Did they suck their teeth in a sharp intake of breath because, in their ears, Jesus is accusing the disciples of falsehood or mistaken predictions? 

Did they flush hot at the idea of Jesus' followers promising a faithfulness that they would not be able to keep of their own accord? 

Did they remain silent, withdrawn by the drama of their own community, and too hurt to be drawn into the drama of the story of the crucifixion and resurrection? 

It is very easy for us to slide into a binary way of thinking- a yes/no thought pattern. No, I would not desert you, Jesus. Yes, I will be faithful.

It's probably more honest to say, "I do not want to desert you, Jesus. I long to be faithful to you and your commands to the last. I find, however, that my fear/ lack of understanding/ desire for control/ impatience/ frustration keeps me from honoring you in word and deed to the fullness of my being." 

In a space of honesty, we are likely to find ourselves in deeper sympathy with Peter, the other apostles, and all who have heard this passage over the years of the written Word. We do not wish to be false prophets, deserters, or betrayers. Still, we often find ourselves among that company when we recount what we have done and left undone, said and left unsaid, given and held back. 

God of mercy, we confess with the Apostle Paul that we often do not do the good we wish to do. In fact, like a magnet, we are drawn to words and deeds that may not always be reflections of your light and love. Strengthen us to turn away from lives of falseness and to lean into the power of living in agreement with your Spirit and your Word. Amen. 

Holy Monday (3/26/18)

MARK 14:1-15 It was two days before the Passover and the festival of Unleavened Bread. The chief priests and the scribes were looking for a way to arrest Jesus by stealth and kill him; for they said, “Not during the festival, or there may be a riot among the people.”

While he was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as he sat at the table, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very costly ointment of nard, and she broke open the jar and poured the ointment on his head. But some were there who said to one another in anger, “Why was the ointment wasted in this way? For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor.” And they scolded her. But Jesus said, “Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me. For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always have me.  She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.”

Then Judas Iscariot, who was one of the twelve, went to the chief priests in order to betray him to them. When they heard it, they were greatly pleased, and promised to give him money. So he began to look for an opportunity to betray him.

On the first day of Unleavened Bread, when the Passover lamb is sacrificed, his disciples said to him, “Where do you want us to go and make the preparations for you to eat the Passover?”  So he sent two of his disciples, saying to them, “Go into the city, and a man carrying a jar of water will meet you; follow him, and wherever he enters, say to the owner of the house, ‘The Teacher asks, Where is my guest room where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?’ He will show you a large room upstairs, furnished and ready. Make preparations for us there.”

 There are two things on which I would like to reflect about this section of Mark 14. The first is about the concern regarding the cost of the nard and the second is about Judas' betrayal. It is easy to skim the Bible passage and assume that you know all the details.I encourage you to read the verses out loud to yourself and to ponder the details that both included and excluded. 

In Mark's version of the anointing woman story, Jesus is in the house of a man who has a type of skin disease characterized as leprosy. He's already in a place that may well have made his disciples uncomfortable. Why is Jesus in the house of this man who would have been considered unclean? Why are other people willing to eat in that place, breaking those rules, but then find this woman's action a bridge too far? 

This woman has a gift that she has likely saved for a long time. If it is not for her own burial, it is probably for someone in her family. Yet she sees Jesus and feels the strong urge of the Spirit to spend out what she has saved up on him. She makes a costly sacrifice of her nard and her pride to appear before the group of dining men and anoint Jesus for who she sees and perceives him to be. 

Many who witness this self-sacrificing act are aghast. Are they embarrassed to be seen in the house of a leper? Are they feeling guilty because they have hesitated to spend out for Jesus? Are they seeking to shame this woman for this specific action or for presumed actions in her past or present?

They are acting as gatekeepers- determining not only dinner party etiquette, but also other people's stewardship. The woman has not followed the proper "channels" for offerings, but has proven generous perhaps beyond what the others gathered are willing to do. Unable to sit with their own feelings of discomfort and uncertainty, they lash out at her and at Jesus for allowing her generous and sacramental act. 

What does gate-keeping look like in your life, your community, or your congregation? Are there unwritten expectations that people are shamed for not understanding? Is there a community hierarchy based on money, talents, or time in place? Are there excuses made (we could have done this for the poor, if s/he/they hadn't...)? Do you hold yourself back from the generosity to which you are called because of your own internal gate-keeping around fear, grief, worry, or habit? 

Secondly, as I read this out loud, I saw the end of the sentence about Judas: "in order to betray him to them." I thought about "to them". Judas is not the only betrayer. The complainers in the first part betrayed Jesus by rejecting not only what he had taught them about generosity, but also by not paying attention to what the Father and the Spirit had shown them about who Jesus was. 

Betrayal may not always be active, like Judas seeking out the chief priests. Betrayal can also be passive. When we sin by omission, staying quiet when we should speak, accepting the status quo rather than working for change, resigning ourselves to evil instead of forceful renunciation... these are betrayals of Jesus, denying his call, his claim, and his conversion of our hearts and minds. 

 

God of grace and hope, we give you thanks for your healing work that we celebrate in this Holy Week- work of forgiveness and resurrection. Open us to the Spirit's leading- away from our gate-keeping habits and into new ways of being your people in the world you love. Forgive us for our every day betrayals of your commands and guide us into the holy and whole living that is a life in imitation of Christ. We give thanks for your faithfulness as you revealed it to the whole world through Jesus, our Savior and Lord, in whose name we pray. Amen. 

Good Friday: Father, Into Thy Hands

Luke 23:44-46:  It was now about the sixth hour, and there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour, while the sun's light failed. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two. Then Jesus, calling out with a loud voice, said, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit!” And having said this he breathed his last.

         I’m going to begin a prayer and you help me finish the first couple lines

Our Father, who art…

Hail Mary, full of grace…

Glory be to the Father…

The Lord is my shepherd…

Now I lay me down to sleep…

            Some of you may not even remember learning the words of those prayers. They stir up from your minds almost automatically. The words feel like a part of you and they slide out of your mouth as easily as breath. When we understand ourselves to pray with the help of the Holy Spirit, these prayers are the way God, through Jesus and the Spirit, gives structure, pattern, and depth to our prayers.

            Even children can (and should) learn these words. Does it matter if they fully understand what they mean? It does not. Does it matter if we fully comprehend these prayers? It does not. Our prayers- in word and deed- express our trust in God, our lived out hope that we may live to see and comprehend how God is acting in the world for renewal, healing, and resurrection.

            Jesus told the disciples, who were concerned about their status in heaven, that they needed to change their thinking and become more like children. The only way to enter the kingdom of heaven is to become like a child. This does not mean to act childishly, in the way that we might imagine (or hope). It means to have the faith of one who has not yet learned of harshness, to have the clear intentions of one who speaks the truth because she does not know how to lie, to have the ability to imagine and reach for entirely brand-new possibilities- all of which is rooted in having experienced safety and care from the very first minutes of life.

            “Into thy hands, I commit my spirit” was a child’s bedtime prayer in the time of Jesus. It is likely that Mary would sit down next to a young Yeshua, settling down for sleep on his bed of rushes in the family room. They might have sung a soft song or recited the Sh’ma (Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one). She might have spoken a soft prayer or blessing over him. Then she would have reminded him of the last prayer of the night. The last words for each child (and adult to speak) before falling asleep were a quotation of Psalm 31:5,  “Into your hands, I commit my spirit.”

            These words, believed to be of David- shepherd boy and powerful King- were the last prayer of the night, the prayer of trust and expressed hope before surrendering to the oblivion of sleep, which must have seemed like a kind of death. Praying as the psalmist gave parents a way to teach their children about trusting in God- a Creator and Redeemer who was with them in a way that even their own parents could not be.

            Thus, young Jesus would have uttered this prayer every day of his life. He would likely never remember having learned it. He might remember his mother helping him pray it. Or remember hearing Joseph whisper it at the end of a day’s labors. Jesus might have prayed it in the night with other children in his family- as they piled in together for sleep, exhausted after play, worship, and work.

            When Jesus prays this from the cross, he is no longer a child. He no longer retained the innocence of one who has not seen evil. He had been betrayed, denied, rejected, beaten, and crucified. His humanity had been stretched to its breaking point and that same humanness was about to experience the end of earthly human experience- death. Yet, in this moment, he is still the Son, still God’s anointed, still Emmanuel- God with us. Even as he experiences, he teaches. Even as he teaches, he saves. Even as he saves, he transforms.

            Jesus utters this prayer, “Into thy hands, I commit my spirit” and transforms it for his own self on the cross and for all who would pray it after him. By adding the word “Father”, Jesus reveals his nature as the pioneer of our faith- leading us into a new kind of intimacy and familial relationship with God, with himself, and with one another. Jesus prays the words just as he has thousands of times, but this time, we are able to hear that he is not David. He is not just another claimant to the title of Messiah. He is not a failed political revolutionary. He is not a rejected king.

            Only one who knows the heart of God would dare to address the Ground of All Being as “Father”. The only one would could truly know the heart of the Holy Parent is one who was of that heart, was of the same being, understood the same things, and had the same desires since before the beginning of creation. Only the Living Word would dare to pray with such familiarity and deep trust, trust that came not of hope, but out of knowledge.

            Only Jesus would pray a children’s bedtime prayer in the moment of his death to teach all who hear and all who follow how to live and how to die with true faith- born out of concrete expectation in God’s faithfulness.

            Every prayer of Jesus is a model for us, a way to pray- as children of faith, as children of light, as children of adoption by the Holy Spirit. In his last words, Jesus teaches us how to pray in the hour of death. Since most of us do not know that hour, we are therefore empowered to pray in this way every day of our lives, every moment of our lives. When driving, before sleeping, in choosing a daily intention, in our hobbies, in our relationships… by praying as Jesus did, “Father, into thy hands, I commit my spirit”- we are asking the Father to shape our will, our actions, and our prayers to God’s own will, actions, and plans.

            In that way, it is a challenging word, a challenging prayer. It requires us to understand that external forces may alter our experience, but they cannot ultimately change us if we are ever giving our spirit over to God’s own control. Jesus knew who he was and whose he was, and still he prayed, “Father, into thy hands, I commit my spirit.”

            We who seek daily to live with the same knowledge- whose we are and who we are- can do nothing less to pray in the same way, with the heart of child, with trust, with hope, and with abandon. Let it be the new prayer we know by heart- “Father, into thy hands, I commit my spirit.”

Amen.

Maundy Thursday: Subversive Prayer

       When we were looking for covers for this bulletin, we found many different pictures of communion ware and elements for celebrating the Lord’s Supper. We found arrangements bowls, pitchers, and towels for washing feet. And then there were these two pictures- the new commandment, the commandment to love one another- distinctly printed over two different families- one black, one white, same poses.

            I felt a little surprised. First of all, Jesus is speaking to the assembled disciples. The commandment is, then, transferred from those who heard the words themselves to all who walk the same walk of trust and hope in Jesus. While it certainly applies within a small family context, the call to love one another is far more expansive than that. Rather than show the expansive nature of the call to love with an image of all kinds of people together, this images mask the challenge and subversive nature of what Jesus is commanding of all who follow him. Yes, commanding- not asking- commanding.

            Subversive. I think we are so used to what we do, to this story, to the person of Jesus, to being church people that we have forgotten the subversive nature of our faith. It has slipped our mind that we just heard a story about a nearly naked Jesus washing feet- something a free man would never do for other free men. We no longer think about Holy Communion as bites of food that bring us into communion with God, with one another, and with all those who have gone before us. We have forgotten the enmity that existed between our denominations that kept us from worshipping together for generations.

            We are called specifically to a subversive kind of life. We are commanded into a subversive kind of life- a life of radical service, of intense forgiveness, of praying with our hands, feet, dollars, and words. All of those things are what we hear in tonight’s gospel, a story that calls into a life of prayer. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, a rabbi active in many of the freedom efforts of the 20^th century, wote, “Prayer is meaningless, unless it is subversive, unless it seeks to overthrow and to ruin the pyramids of callousness, hatred, opportunism and falsehood.”

            Prayer is meaningless, unless it is subversive. What does this mean? To be subversive means to seek to undercut an established system, to overthrow rules and institutions, to ransack expectations. For ourselves, we are called to subversion for the sake of Jesus in the world. We are called to subvert systems that allow money and the monied to control resources. We are called to stand against structures that penalize the poor and those who are struggling. We are empowered to speak loudly against powers and principalities that declare power through war, oppression, and destruction of natural resources.

            If we are not doing these things, we are not praying as deeply as we might. If we are not praying, we are not trusting. If we do not trust, then what makes up our faith?

            We have reached a stage where anything beyond what we “usually do” feels like a big deal. This evening should not be a shock to us. It shouldn’t happen just once a year. Of all the congregations here, we could easily merge together and create, perhaps, three good-sized congregations across Anchorage. We could, by our actions, declare that praying together in word and deed is more important than our own buildings, our own denominations, and our own tightly held fundamentals about worship. (Says me!) That would be subversive!

            We could organize a photo campaign, a letter and email write-in, and a Youtube video that says the commandment to love one another goes beyond our families, beyond people we who know, beyond people who look like us, beyond people we even like. We could tell our neighbors that we are not okay with slandering gays and lesbians. We could tell our friends that we don’t want to hear racist jokes. We could tell our adjudicatories and our national bodies that it is time, once again, to make a clear statement against Anti-Semitism. That would be subversive.

            In the first Passover, the Hebrew people- enslaved though they were- knew that God was subverting the power of the Pharaoh. Hurrying through their lamb dinner, carrying their unleavened flour on their backs, they believed they were overturning the pyramids of callousness, hatred, opportunism and falsehood that their years of slavery had built. What could have been a journey that killed them, destroyed their faith, or might have ended their covenant with God instead became a foundational story of their self-understanding- people who can withstand anything with God’s help! Talk about subversive.

            On this night, of all nights, we cannot, we must not, we will not forget that our faith is a radical gift. It gives us an identity beyond our families, beyond Alaska, beyond our country. It associates us with the community of believers across the world and across time. Eating, washing, and praying together- we do these things because they have been commanded and because, with God’s help, they change the world. And in this subversion, in this life of active prayer together, God also changes us.

Amen.  

A Powerful Thirst

After this, when Jesus knew that all was now finished, he said, "I thirst". John 19:28

        

        

         One of the hardest things to hear as a pastor is that someone has stopped eating and drinking. A person who stops eating, but will still take a little fluid is going to die, but still may have time. Once a person refuses fluid or no longer is awake enough to drink anything, we know that they will soon die. Being thirsty, wanting to quench that dryness, is a sign of life, a sign of being. We can go a while without food, but we cannot survive for long without liquid.

            When Jesus says, “I thirst”- we know that he is still alive. That Jesus, his body that is both human and divine, still has longing and need. He receives sour wine to drink, something that was foretold in the Hebrew Scriptures. Does that quench his need? Are his dry lips moistened? Is his aching throat soothed? Does he still thirst?

            What is Jesus thirsty for? Does he just want some water? Possibly. Probably. But he also has Living Water, as he told the woman at the well. The source of Living Water likely has a deeper thirst for more than just H₂0.

            On that cross, Jesus looked out at the crowd and saw deep needs- things about which he’d preached, circumstances he’d repaired, a creation that longed to be reunited with God, but was unable to keep up its end. Jesus saw all of this and he thirsted… he longed for justice, for peace, for wholeness in community, for grace and mercy among neighbors, for healing in families, for a reformation of the religious system.

            His spirit thirsted for wholeness in the world, just as his body longed for liquid thirsted for water or cool wine. This is how we know that he was still alive and that he is alive among us still because he thirsts. Our own thirsting is how we know that we are alive… alive in Christ.

            Not just our longing for water, but our longing for peace in our world, for justice in government, for equality among people, for a desire to honor tradition and to support innovation. We are to thirst for these things because that longing is part of what it means to be living in faith.

            To that thirst- the powers of the world will offer sour wine- discrimination based on race, sexual orientation or experience, gender, religious expression, ability, resources, or age. There is the sour wine of “deserve”, of “should”, of “not one of us”. All these things are sour wine… wine that humiliates and denigrates, that does not quench the thirst of the body or of the soul for the goodness of the kingdom of God.

            The Spirit has pure, clear Living Water… the power of Christ… to quench these thirsts, but who is the cup? Who can satisfy these longings? The person who carries the Living Water in the cup of their skills and their calling. If we are not thirsting with Christ, we are close to dying. To thirst is to be alive. Feeling and seeking to quench the thirst of the world is to be alive in Christ.

            Christ in our neighbor… our homeless neighbor, our gay neighbor, our neighbor of another color or race, our atheist neighbor, our fundamentalist neighbor, our neighbor without healthcare, our neighbor with a deployed spouse, our widowed neighbor, our neighbor with an unintended pregnancy, our neighbor in a wheelchair, our neighbor with a mental illness… Christ in that neighbor says to you… I thirst. 

Blessed is the One (Sermon)

Palm Sunday/ Feast Day of Oscar Romero

Luke 19:29-44

            So what does an assassinated Roman Catholic Archbishop have to do with Palm Sunday? It’s a good question. At the start of Holy Week, we are in a position for deep and serious reflection. On the one hand, we can enter this week with a misplaced sense of re-enactment- the idea that we are re-living the events of a certain week almost two thousand years ago.

            Sometimes the re-enactment is what we need. To re-imagine the sights, sounds, and smells. To place ourselves in Jerusalem and feel the strain of oppressed people. Sometimes that memory is what we need.

            However, there is another way to consider this week. It functions like a compass for our faith. The events of this week are our true North- they give us a sense of direction, a re-orientation to the landmarks of our faith. They put us on the right path.

            That is where our focus should be, even in the midst of re-imagining and re-enacting. Palms in our hands, we are poised to be re-acquainted with the direction of our faith and its purpose. The events that are coming are not meant to overwhelm us with sadness or even a sense of unworthiness. The events of this week are meant to overwhelm us with the way that light overcomes darkness, that life overcomes death, that the forces that oppose God do not win the battle or the war.

            When Oscar Romero became archbishop, he was appointed to that position, in part, because it was believed that his conservatism would keep him from siding with the poor who were rising up against the government. Both sides of this fight believed that he would not be involved. However, he watched a close friend get killed (shot) for trying to help the poor farmers and laborers, to end their oppression. Romero then realized that he could not remain silent. His understanding of Jesus meant that he had to speak out. He even worked to get his sermons on the radio for all to hear, sermons which frequently sided with the oppressed and called for the soldiers to end the killing of their brothers and sisters.

            Archbishop Romero spoke frequently that he knew he would eventually be killed, but he could not abandon the work to which God had called him, work of siding with the poor of El Salvador, work of giving voice to the voiceless. This is the work for which he was killed.

            That may not be the call for all of us, but each of do have a call- a call to carry the message of Jesus into the world And it is likely not something that makes us comfortable. It may not be as easy as we would hope. Nevertheless, our call into gospel living is clear… loving our neighbor, forgiving seventy times and then some, showing mercy to our enemies, working to end injustice against the poor and the disadvantaged, championing the cause of peace, and sharing what we have with all those around us.

            It’s tough work and it can be awkward, but that is why we are here- in Holy Week- pointed toward the events of feasting, betrayal, crucifixion, and resurrection.. We do not journey through this week to come out on the other side, relieved. We are on this trek of re-orientation so that we can be re-energized, knowing that we have been made right with God… and daring to go into the world proclaiming that death does not win.

            The call of today is not only the cry of “Hosanna”. It is also, “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.” That one is the one who carries the God’s light into the world. On that first journey, it was a colt carried Jesus, the light of the world. The disciples were told to find the colt and to say, “The Lord has need of it.” As we look now for a way to carry light into the world, I say, “The Lord has need of you.”

            The Lord has need of you… to proclaim the significance of this week… to get ready for Easter joy… to live into a faith in resurrection… to trust in God’s presence as you live courageously into your calling. In our Wednesday night soup suppers, we have been talking about what it means to be church and what the future of this church is.

            The church is a place where we learn, together, how to live and how to die in Christ. That is the reason we exist. We learn and we live out what it means to be alive in Christ… now and forever. And this week, starting today… this week is our study week, our brush-up week, our re-focusing… because the other 51 weeks of the year are our exam.

            We are poised now, palms in hand, to revisit the journey to the cross and then to the empty tomb. We are resetting our faith compass and we are preparing for the work to which we are called. In the words of Oscar Romero, ““If we are worth anything, it is not because we have more money or more talent, or more human qualities. Insofar as we are worth anything, it is because we are grafted on to Christ's life, his cross and resurrection. That is a person's measure.”

            This is the grace we have received. And it’s not for nothing. It is so that we can carry Christ into the world. The Lord has need of you.

            Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna.

Amen.