Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
The Rev. Elizabeth R. Broyles
BCP – Easter 4 C - Sunday 29 April 2007
Acts 13:15-16,26-33(34-39)
Revelation 7:9-17
John 10:22-30
My original intent was to omit any and all references to sheep and shepherds today. I found myself exceedingly resistant. I have had a decidedly BAAAAHHHH humbug response to the metaphor this year.
But then something caught my imagination. Through an almost passing reference another sermon opened my awareness to a new implication of Jesus being our shepherd and we his sheep.
Jesus talking again with the leaders of his people, this is part of a longer encounter. Jesus identifies himself as the Good Shepherd who lays down his life for his sheep. He is the one, the true one, who knows the sheep. His sheep know him and listen to his voice. So goes the passage that precedes today’s.
Today’s passage about knowledge between Jesus and the sheep takes a slightly different turn. Jesus says “I know the sheep and the sheep follow me.”
The sheep follow me.
This is where the curious bit is, the one that got my attention and opened my willingness to look at this again.
“I know the sheep and the sheep follow me.”
Curious indeed. I think of following as Jesus out in front, all of us following behind. That is the image that comes. And certainly that is true. His teaching, his healing, his living justly by welcoming all–these are ways that he has shown us what it is to follow. Do these things. Love concretely. Respond to need. Welcome all who come into God’s flock. Even go out and look for them! Jesus is out in front.
The funny thing is that this is not what a shepherd does. A shepherd is not a Pied Piper who walks along with the sheep trailing behind. The sheep are not behind, the shepherd is. That is the position herding comes from. There is no telling what the sheep would do if the shepherd tried to lead the sheep.
Actually, there probably is. Mayhem of some kind.
Jesus, as shepherd, is where the shepherd is.
Jesus, the Good Shepherd, is behind us. Guiding us, surely, but also behind us metaphorically: as in “I am behind you.”
It is like the expression used when someone is going into or facing danger. The encouraging words used by loving family, friends, colleagues: I’ve got your back.
Jesus has got our backs.
Regardless of what you face,
whatever trial, whatever illness, whatever call that is frightening, whatever new way of loving, Jesus has got your back.
Knowing this is key in this life. Fear is real and present. To some extent or other all of us deal with fear. For many of us safety, a sense of safety, a fear of the loss of safety are strong motivators in our lives. This dynamic of living in a way that will keep us safe can be deadly. We may succeed in “keeping” whatever we fear losing–whether it be people, jobs, things, our lives themselves–but we lose something vital. We lose freedom of Spirit and spaciousness for our souls to continue to grow.
Jesus is behind us, looking out for us, encouraging us. Part of what “Jesus has got your back” means is that by the grace and power of God through Christ we are enabled to encounter fear and overcome it more and more. And as that happens we are empowered, more and more, to be what God created us to be and to do what God calls and longs for us to do.
When I say “Jesus is behind us” this is not an exclusive “us”, or an “us against them,” as John sometimes falls into. This is “us” as in all of us. This “all” is what we are called to invite our sisters and brothers of all walks into: the love that is God. The life that is God’s. A life where, as we grow, more and more is possible because we are ultimately, eternally safe even as we acknowledge the fear and dangers we face living in this wonderful broken world.
Jesus gives us this encouragement in another way when he talks about the sheep–us–being in his hand, being in the Father’s hand. “No one will snatch them out of my hand.”
No one. Nothing. No calamity. No failure. No disappointment. No loss.
No one. Nothing.
Much happens to us in this life.
We do many things that bring us up against death: little deaths, deaths of dreams, and the deaths of these bodies.
But nothing can snatch us out of the hands of the Holy One.
Why is this? What did we do to deserve this care?
Nothing at all. Except being what we are created to be: God’s own. Beloved. Incredibly valued.
“What my father has given me is greater than all else...” That is what Jesus says to us today and every day. That in God’s eyes and hearts there is nothing greater than his beloved daughters and sons.
You. Me.
I need to be reminded of this often. When I fail–to love or to “do something right.” When I forget that it is not what I do that is most important. When I forget that being present, loving, valuing, forgiving...you name it...are what I am to be about.
We need to be reminded of this often in our homes, our work, our churches and in this world that God so dearly loves. We need to be reminded of this as we grow in our capacity to live free of what constrains us, free to be forces of love and justice through God’s grace.
Beloved, in knowledge of the profound love and care and power to serve that are offered us through our Lord Jesus Christ, may we receive the courage and assurance we need to follow our in his life-giving, loving ways. AMEN.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
BCP - Easter 3 C - 22 Apr 2007
Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Brother Joseph Brown, n/OHC
BCP – Easter 3 C - Sunday 22 April 2007
Two things can happen when you are preparing a sermon. Either you read the text and come up flat with nothing to say, or the text is so rich that to try to talk about everything, which leaves you saying nothing. Today’s readings are the latter for me.
The account of Paul and Ananias, Jesus’ third post-resurrection appearance on the Sea of Tiberias and the Revelation to John are so full of meaning and symbolism that it was very difficult for me even to begin focusing a train of thought. I wrestled and chewed and prayed over the text, hoping for some wonderful insight or profound extrapolation. I read commentaries and search the internet. I looked at journals and patristic writings. They were all very interesting and fed my intellect but I know that what I have been fighting against in composing this sermon is that they all leave me cold.
The Venerable Bede and John Chrysostom have pages of commentary on what the mystical ramifications of 153 fish could mean. I looked through websites of information regarding Greek and Jewish numbers mysticism looking for something to spark me. The fact that Peter was naked in the boat, but put on clothes to jump in the water could keep a monk busy for years looking for the hidden nuances of what that means. The image in Revelation of a slaughtered seven-eyed, seven horned lamb is not something you are going to see on a greeting card in a Christian bookstore any time soon. Profound depth, deep thought and inscrutable mystery are all available in today’s text. So why was I finding so difficult to know what to say, what message I wanted to give today?
What I realized is that the texts tell of someone else’s experience of the Risen Christ. Paul’s encounter on the road to Damascus, the apostle’s encounter on the shore of the Sea of Tiberius, John’s vision of the heavenly throne are all their experience. What burns in my heart is to tell you my experience of the Risen Christ. The Gospel writers wrote what they had heard and seen to encourage us to reflect and write on what we have heard and seen. The Risen Christ is not just locked away in the past, in some far away land or some celestial liturgy. Christ is here, now, moving among us. He is not dead, He is risen! I am to proclaim the good news of the resurrection. But if I don’t do that by telling you how Christ, the Risen Lord, has revealed himself to me, then I am just relaying someone else’s experience. My understanding of Christ can be informed by another, but my conversion can only come from my own encounter.
I was 22 years old. I was sitting in a bar, reading a book on black magic, slamming back my 3rd or 4th gin and tonic. I looked like the kid all of us has seen with the black clothes, black fingernails and dyed hair. I was white as a ghost and my soul was dead as a doornail. I was earnestly searching for the spiritual, but I was looking in the wrong place. All I knew of Christianity was what I heard as a child in Baptist Sunday school, and what I read in accounts of medieval witchcraft and Satanism. I was sitting at the bar and a man walked in. All I remember about him is that he was well dressed and had on a long trench coat. He sat next to me (I was the only one at the bar at 2 in the afternoon, and I thought it odd that he sat right next to me) and we started some small talk. I asked him what he did and he said “ I am a…psychologist.” I don’t know why, but I opened up to this man, unlike anyone ever before. I told him how I was afraid I was crazy and that I was so afraid of my life, my drinking, my thoughts and though I cannot really remember anything I said specifically, I remember what he said and did with perfect clarity. He looked me straight in the eye, put his hands on my shoulders and said “You are going to be okay. I promise.” He kissed the top of my head, grabbed the book I was reading off the bar, and walked out the door. I was arrested later that night for driving under the influence. A month later I was in the hospital for drug and alcoholism treatment.
The first night I was there, I was laying in the bed. The man in the bed next to me was named Lloyd, and he snored horribly. He also was in the last stage of delirium tremens. He moaned and cried out constantly, in a way that horrified me. The sound coming out of him sounded like what Dore’s engravings of Dante’s Hell looked like. What happened next, I am unable to describe even 20 years after the fact. The room filled with light. Not a misty light, but a startling, crystal clear light. Nothing seemed to have a shadow. Everything was lit from inside. I gasped and was terrified. What was happening? Did I finally snap? Did I die?
Love. The most intense, sharp, breath-taking feeling of being loved. In a second, in the time between two heartbeats, I experienced the Risen Christ and I knew it was the Risen Christ. The Christ of Paul and Ananias, the Christ of Peter and John, the Christ of the heavenly glory. He was real, he was risen and he loved me. And I saw that man from the bar again in my mind and he smiled and said “See, I promised.”
There is the good news I must proclaim. There is the gospel I must spread. Jesus is alive! He is not dead! He is Risen. He walks among us and with us. He brings life and light. He challenges us to see his hand in the daily work of greeting guest or hauling nets of fish. He demands that we welcome the other, the stranger, the enemy, even if that enemy is armed with certificates giving him or her the right to imprison us. That we listen to the angels that he sends into our lives, whether they are named Ananias, or whether they wear trench coats. That we listen and hear the pain of our own souls in the cries of another. Join me in writing your own gospel. Write down, shout out for the rest of humanity how the Risen One has revealed himself to you. And knowing, always knowing that he, Jesus, is not locked away in the tomb of text, the dusty pages of papyrus or the electronic font on a computer screen. On the road between Jerusalem and Damascus, on the shore of the Tiberian Sea, in the smoky dank bar, in the hospital room in a rehab, in the darkest recesses of our hearts and minds, Christ is there. He is alive! Alleilulia!
Brother Joseph Brown, n/OHC
BCP – Easter 3 C - Sunday 22 April 2007
Two things can happen when you are preparing a sermon. Either you read the text and come up flat with nothing to say, or the text is so rich that to try to talk about everything, which leaves you saying nothing. Today’s readings are the latter for me.
The account of Paul and Ananias, Jesus’ third post-resurrection appearance on the Sea of Tiberias and the Revelation to John are so full of meaning and symbolism that it was very difficult for me even to begin focusing a train of thought. I wrestled and chewed and prayed over the text, hoping for some wonderful insight or profound extrapolation. I read commentaries and search the internet. I looked at journals and patristic writings. They were all very interesting and fed my intellect but I know that what I have been fighting against in composing this sermon is that they all leave me cold.
The Venerable Bede and John Chrysostom have pages of commentary on what the mystical ramifications of 153 fish could mean. I looked through websites of information regarding Greek and Jewish numbers mysticism looking for something to spark me. The fact that Peter was naked in the boat, but put on clothes to jump in the water could keep a monk busy for years looking for the hidden nuances of what that means. The image in Revelation of a slaughtered seven-eyed, seven horned lamb is not something you are going to see on a greeting card in a Christian bookstore any time soon. Profound depth, deep thought and inscrutable mystery are all available in today’s text. So why was I finding so difficult to know what to say, what message I wanted to give today?
What I realized is that the texts tell of someone else’s experience of the Risen Christ. Paul’s encounter on the road to Damascus, the apostle’s encounter on the shore of the Sea of Tiberius, John’s vision of the heavenly throne are all their experience. What burns in my heart is to tell you my experience of the Risen Christ. The Gospel writers wrote what they had heard and seen to encourage us to reflect and write on what we have heard and seen. The Risen Christ is not just locked away in the past, in some far away land or some celestial liturgy. Christ is here, now, moving among us. He is not dead, He is risen! I am to proclaim the good news of the resurrection. But if I don’t do that by telling you how Christ, the Risen Lord, has revealed himself to me, then I am just relaying someone else’s experience. My understanding of Christ can be informed by another, but my conversion can only come from my own encounter.
I was 22 years old. I was sitting in a bar, reading a book on black magic, slamming back my 3rd or 4th gin and tonic. I looked like the kid all of us has seen with the black clothes, black fingernails and dyed hair. I was white as a ghost and my soul was dead as a doornail. I was earnestly searching for the spiritual, but I was looking in the wrong place. All I knew of Christianity was what I heard as a child in Baptist Sunday school, and what I read in accounts of medieval witchcraft and Satanism. I was sitting at the bar and a man walked in. All I remember about him is that he was well dressed and had on a long trench coat. He sat next to me (I was the only one at the bar at 2 in the afternoon, and I thought it odd that he sat right next to me) and we started some small talk. I asked him what he did and he said “ I am a…psychologist.” I don’t know why, but I opened up to this man, unlike anyone ever before. I told him how I was afraid I was crazy and that I was so afraid of my life, my drinking, my thoughts and though I cannot really remember anything I said specifically, I remember what he said and did with perfect clarity. He looked me straight in the eye, put his hands on my shoulders and said “You are going to be okay. I promise.” He kissed the top of my head, grabbed the book I was reading off the bar, and walked out the door. I was arrested later that night for driving under the influence. A month later I was in the hospital for drug and alcoholism treatment.
The first night I was there, I was laying in the bed. The man in the bed next to me was named Lloyd, and he snored horribly. He also was in the last stage of delirium tremens. He moaned and cried out constantly, in a way that horrified me. The sound coming out of him sounded like what Dore’s engravings of Dante’s Hell looked like. What happened next, I am unable to describe even 20 years after the fact. The room filled with light. Not a misty light, but a startling, crystal clear light. Nothing seemed to have a shadow. Everything was lit from inside. I gasped and was terrified. What was happening? Did I finally snap? Did I die?
Love. The most intense, sharp, breath-taking feeling of being loved. In a second, in the time between two heartbeats, I experienced the Risen Christ and I knew it was the Risen Christ. The Christ of Paul and Ananias, the Christ of Peter and John, the Christ of the heavenly glory. He was real, he was risen and he loved me. And I saw that man from the bar again in my mind and he smiled and said “See, I promised.”
There is the good news I must proclaim. There is the gospel I must spread. Jesus is alive! He is not dead! He is Risen. He walks among us and with us. He brings life and light. He challenges us to see his hand in the daily work of greeting guest or hauling nets of fish. He demands that we welcome the other, the stranger, the enemy, even if that enemy is armed with certificates giving him or her the right to imprison us. That we listen to the angels that he sends into our lives, whether they are named Ananias, or whether they wear trench coats. That we listen and hear the pain of our own souls in the cries of another. Join me in writing your own gospel. Write down, shout out for the rest of humanity how the Risen One has revealed himself to you. And knowing, always knowing that he, Jesus, is not locked away in the tomb of text, the dusty pages of papyrus or the electronic font on a computer screen. On the road between Jerusalem and Damascus, on the shore of the Tiberian Sea, in the smoky dank bar, in the hospital room in a rehab, in the darkest recesses of our hearts and minds, Christ is there. He is alive! Alleilulia!
Sunday, April 15, 2007
BCP - Easter 2 C - 15 Apr 2007
Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Brother Robert Magliula, n/OHC
BCP – Easter 2 C - Sunday 15 April 2007
Acts 5:12a, 17-22,25-29
Revelation 1:(1-8)9-19
John 20:19-31
The experience of living in community, any community, underlines the fact that each one of us suffers in one way or another. It may be that we feel the physical pains of illness or aging. It may be that we hurt from disappointment over the problems and situations in our lives. Addiction or fear may immoblize and frustrate us. We may ache out of a sense of loss from death, rejection, or failed dreams. Our anguish may come from our concern about the pain and suffering in the world, with its waste and potential for destruction. Each one of us, in one way or another, suffers.
The terrible thing about suffering is not only the pain that we have, but the fact that suffering blocks out other parts of life so that we aren't able to experience anything else. We have the story of Thomas set before us this morning. He is an excellent illustration of the human tendency to project on to others the things we fear most in ourselves. Thomas is usually called "the doubter", but I think that his primary characteristic is not skepticism. In thinking about Thomas this week, I began to appreciate how his faith, his ability to trust, was blocked not by doubt, but by the reality of suffering and the fear it birthed.
He remembered that last week in Jerusalem: the scorn shown to Jesus; the betrayal and rejection of the disciples, including his own turning away; the agony of the crucifixion;and the loneliness of Jesus' death must have been overwhelming. The pain and suffering of Jesus was so real, the hurt and disappointment of Thomas were so intense, that everything else was blocked, including his faith, his ability to trust God, himself, or the disciples.
When told about the empty tomb and Jesus' appearances to the others, Thomas said: "Unless I see the mark of the nails on his hands, unless I put my finger into the place where the nails were, and my hand into his side, I will not believe." Thomas couldn't see or trust anything beyond the reality of Jesus' suffering and his own. I think that Thomas has something to say to us not only because he experienced the pain of suffering, but also, and more importantly, because he found Christ and was found by Christ in his suffering.
A week after Jesus' first appearence the disciples were again in the upper room and Thomas was with them. Jesus came and stood among them, saying "Peace be with you." Then he turned to Thomas and offered himself. "Reach your finger here", he said, "see my hands. put your hand in my side. Be unbelieving no longer, but believe." Suffering was not the last word for Thomas. It was through suffering, not by escaping from it, that Thomas was healed. Suffering is not to be glorified or romanticized, nor is it to be denied. In and through suffering Thomas was transformed by God. It was through it that he experienced the power and presence of God.
My experience has taught me that when I least expect Jesus and most need him, he appears. Suffering comes. suffer we will. There is no escape or exemptions from it. It is our human condition. In our imperfect lives and world there is sickness, death, hate, and injustice. People are victimized, hungry, homeless, rejected, and discarded. The issue is not whether we suffer, but rather, for what do we suffer. Are we are suffering because we are concerned with love, justice, forgiveness, or truth? Does our suffering come from wounded pride, frustrated selfishness, loss of control, or the failure to help ourselves?
To all who suffer Christ comes saying, "Peace be with you." Reach your finger here; see my hands. Reach your hand and put it in my side. Be unbelieving no longer, but trust." To the extent that our suffering comes from our own self-centeredness, from our desire to control and manipulate, from our own self-pity, our own willfulness, we can look at the pierced hands and wounded side of Jesus, acknowledge our faults and hear his words of acceptance and love. He takes the suffering we inflict on ourselves and others, absorbs our anger, denial, and rebellion, and restores us as his beloved.
To the extent that we do live for others, that we are trying to alleviate pain and work for justice in the world, the wounded healer comes to us with his peace. He stands alongside us. Our sufferings are transformed, and we express our love for him in our love for others---especially those who are the least and the last. Our sufferings become a participation in his suffering. As he breathed his life, his Spirit into the first disciples, so we too share in his life and mission to the world. In this way, the pain and evil endured, become not just more suffering but a sign of greater love.
Like Thomas we all need to see the mark of the nails and touch the place where they were. That sight frees us to see our own wounds and those of others compassionately, not fearfully. Christ is alive. Thomas' story encourages us to find as he did, that when we trust enough to admit our need, Jesus meets us where we are, ready to supply what we need. The enemy of faith is not doubt but fear. Doubt can serve us, but fear imprisons us. We are called to move beyond our fear, and step out knowing that Jesus walks beside us.
+Amen.
Brother Robert Magliula, n/OHC
BCP – Easter 2 C - Sunday 15 April 2007
Acts 5:12a, 17-22,25-29
Revelation 1:(1-8)9-19
John 20:19-31
The experience of living in community, any community, underlines the fact that each one of us suffers in one way or another. It may be that we feel the physical pains of illness or aging. It may be that we hurt from disappointment over the problems and situations in our lives. Addiction or fear may immoblize and frustrate us. We may ache out of a sense of loss from death, rejection, or failed dreams. Our anguish may come from our concern about the pain and suffering in the world, with its waste and potential for destruction. Each one of us, in one way or another, suffers.
The terrible thing about suffering is not only the pain that we have, but the fact that suffering blocks out other parts of life so that we aren't able to experience anything else. We have the story of Thomas set before us this morning. He is an excellent illustration of the human tendency to project on to others the things we fear most in ourselves. Thomas is usually called "the doubter", but I think that his primary characteristic is not skepticism. In thinking about Thomas this week, I began to appreciate how his faith, his ability to trust, was blocked not by doubt, but by the reality of suffering and the fear it birthed.
He remembered that last week in Jerusalem: the scorn shown to Jesus; the betrayal and rejection of the disciples, including his own turning away; the agony of the crucifixion;and the loneliness of Jesus' death must have been overwhelming. The pain and suffering of Jesus was so real, the hurt and disappointment of Thomas were so intense, that everything else was blocked, including his faith, his ability to trust God, himself, or the disciples.
When told about the empty tomb and Jesus' appearances to the others, Thomas said: "Unless I see the mark of the nails on his hands, unless I put my finger into the place where the nails were, and my hand into his side, I will not believe." Thomas couldn't see or trust anything beyond the reality of Jesus' suffering and his own. I think that Thomas has something to say to us not only because he experienced the pain of suffering, but also, and more importantly, because he found Christ and was found by Christ in his suffering.
A week after Jesus' first appearence the disciples were again in the upper room and Thomas was with them. Jesus came and stood among them, saying "Peace be with you." Then he turned to Thomas and offered himself. "Reach your finger here", he said, "see my hands. put your hand in my side. Be unbelieving no longer, but believe." Suffering was not the last word for Thomas. It was through suffering, not by escaping from it, that Thomas was healed. Suffering is not to be glorified or romanticized, nor is it to be denied. In and through suffering Thomas was transformed by God. It was through it that he experienced the power and presence of God.
My experience has taught me that when I least expect Jesus and most need him, he appears. Suffering comes. suffer we will. There is no escape or exemptions from it. It is our human condition. In our imperfect lives and world there is sickness, death, hate, and injustice. People are victimized, hungry, homeless, rejected, and discarded. The issue is not whether we suffer, but rather, for what do we suffer. Are we are suffering because we are concerned with love, justice, forgiveness, or truth? Does our suffering come from wounded pride, frustrated selfishness, loss of control, or the failure to help ourselves?
To all who suffer Christ comes saying, "Peace be with you." Reach your finger here; see my hands. Reach your hand and put it in my side. Be unbelieving no longer, but trust." To the extent that our suffering comes from our own self-centeredness, from our desire to control and manipulate, from our own self-pity, our own willfulness, we can look at the pierced hands and wounded side of Jesus, acknowledge our faults and hear his words of acceptance and love. He takes the suffering we inflict on ourselves and others, absorbs our anger, denial, and rebellion, and restores us as his beloved.
To the extent that we do live for others, that we are trying to alleviate pain and work for justice in the world, the wounded healer comes to us with his peace. He stands alongside us. Our sufferings are transformed, and we express our love for him in our love for others---especially those who are the least and the last. Our sufferings become a participation in his suffering. As he breathed his life, his Spirit into the first disciples, so we too share in his life and mission to the world. In this way, the pain and evil endured, become not just more suffering but a sign of greater love.
Like Thomas we all need to see the mark of the nails and touch the place where they were. That sight frees us to see our own wounds and those of others compassionately, not fearfully. Christ is alive. Thomas' story encourages us to find as he did, that when we trust enough to admit our need, Jesus meets us where we are, ready to supply what we need. The enemy of faith is not doubt but fear. Doubt can serve us, but fear imprisons us. We are called to move beyond our fear, and step out knowing that Jesus walks beside us.
+Amen.
Monday, April 9, 2007
RCL - Easter Sunday C - 08 Apr 2007
Mariya uMama weThemba Monastery, Grahamstown, South Africa
Brother John Forbis, OHC
RCL – Easter Day C - Sunday 08 April 2007
St. Peter on the Rock
When I really reflect on this day, I realise just how amazing it is and at the same time just how difficult it is to preach on. On a day like today, one doesn’t want to get too sentimental or present such warm platitudes that are meaningless, especially since in the last few days, we have faced some stark realities. Jesus suffered terribly and died the death of a criminal. Peter was left with his denials and tears. Mary was left with her own sorrow and loneliness, and the rest of the disciples were left with their hopes dashed and their devastation. And I can identify with each of them or all of them at different times.
So it is in this context that we come with the women to a tomb. We watch these women do the only thing they know to do when faced with death: they come to clean and dress the body. Like the millions of women we have known in so many cultures including our own, they come to mourn and clean and dress a body. These women face death every day of their lives – head on. Death is possibly more real to these women than it is to all of us, complete and absolute, final. They aren’t in any denial about it.
But they come and encounter something entirely different – something completely unexpected, something completely impossible, something terrifying in the face of death. Again they do the only thing they know to do – fall down and bow their heads. And on this day, we all hear an amazing question. The question is at the crux of our life, our whole purpose, and at the heart of Jesus’ teachings. Why do we look for the living among the dead? Jesus is not at the tomb. He is not anywhere to be found for that matter. The only people here are just these two men, telling us to remember … to remember.
All that seems right or proper becomes suddenly nonsensical. What used to make sense doesn’t. What we used to expect we can’t anymore. What used to be the right place at the right time is now the wrong place at the wrong time. And we are perplexed, faced with an empty tomb and two men in dazzling clothes telling us to remember, to remember what God has done and is capable of doing for us even when death seems to be the final answer. What an amazing day! What a day to rejoice! What a terrifying day! What a day to certainly sing a new song! We have an empty tomb, no Jesus, no proof, not even logic but faith is born on this day and the message begins to spread.
We listened to the readings in the lounge – our salvation story by candle light. We have heard from Paul about death being the last enemy that is overcome – that yes, we die through Adam; that is real, but we are made alive through Christ. With all that God has done and will continue to do for us, indeed, why would we look for the living among the dead?
Why would we accept the defeat of despair and hopelessness? Why tolerate the terrible cruelties, injustices and the seemingly meaningless movement of history as some historians in our own century have called it? Why tolerate the powerful forces that would seek to destroy? Why look to depravity for life?
The Angels tell us to remember and that remembrance introduces a restlessness into our being. We can no longer easily accept the world as it is. God’s power, completely alien to us, is real and present and so we are compelled to long, to hope, to strive, to live.
We live by spreading the good news. We are welcomed by welcoming others. We feed by feeding others. We believe by believing in each other. We live by offering ourselves. This is how we are resurrected.
Death comes by a human being, but life comes by a human being and offers that life to us in the very midst of death. With that life is the promise of what will be. Because it is God’s promise as we have heard throughout this Triduum, it is true. Because we now have possibility, we now have promise. Because Resurrection has broken into human history we enact its reality and truth and spread the message. Yes, it is an incredible day! We come to a tomb with our spices expecting to tend to a dead body only to find LIFE itself.
Br. John Forbis, OHC
Brother John Forbis, OHC
RCL – Easter Day C - Sunday 08 April 2007
St. Peter on the Rock
When I really reflect on this day, I realise just how amazing it is and at the same time just how difficult it is to preach on. On a day like today, one doesn’t want to get too sentimental or present such warm platitudes that are meaningless, especially since in the last few days, we have faced some stark realities. Jesus suffered terribly and died the death of a criminal. Peter was left with his denials and tears. Mary was left with her own sorrow and loneliness, and the rest of the disciples were left with their hopes dashed and their devastation. And I can identify with each of them or all of them at different times.
So it is in this context that we come with the women to a tomb. We watch these women do the only thing they know to do when faced with death: they come to clean and dress the body. Like the millions of women we have known in so many cultures including our own, they come to mourn and clean and dress a body. These women face death every day of their lives – head on. Death is possibly more real to these women than it is to all of us, complete and absolute, final. They aren’t in any denial about it.
But they come and encounter something entirely different – something completely unexpected, something completely impossible, something terrifying in the face of death. Again they do the only thing they know to do – fall down and bow their heads. And on this day, we all hear an amazing question. The question is at the crux of our life, our whole purpose, and at the heart of Jesus’ teachings. Why do we look for the living among the dead? Jesus is not at the tomb. He is not anywhere to be found for that matter. The only people here are just these two men, telling us to remember … to remember.
All that seems right or proper becomes suddenly nonsensical. What used to make sense doesn’t. What we used to expect we can’t anymore. What used to be the right place at the right time is now the wrong place at the wrong time. And we are perplexed, faced with an empty tomb and two men in dazzling clothes telling us to remember, to remember what God has done and is capable of doing for us even when death seems to be the final answer. What an amazing day! What a day to rejoice! What a terrifying day! What a day to certainly sing a new song! We have an empty tomb, no Jesus, no proof, not even logic but faith is born on this day and the message begins to spread.
We listened to the readings in the lounge – our salvation story by candle light. We have heard from Paul about death being the last enemy that is overcome – that yes, we die through Adam; that is real, but we are made alive through Christ. With all that God has done and will continue to do for us, indeed, why would we look for the living among the dead?
Why would we accept the defeat of despair and hopelessness? Why tolerate the terrible cruelties, injustices and the seemingly meaningless movement of history as some historians in our own century have called it? Why tolerate the powerful forces that would seek to destroy? Why look to depravity for life?
The Angels tell us to remember and that remembrance introduces a restlessness into our being. We can no longer easily accept the world as it is. God’s power, completely alien to us, is real and present and so we are compelled to long, to hope, to strive, to live.
We live by spreading the good news. We are welcomed by welcoming others. We feed by feeding others. We believe by believing in each other. We live by offering ourselves. This is how we are resurrected.
Death comes by a human being, but life comes by a human being and offers that life to us in the very midst of death. With that life is the promise of what will be. Because it is God’s promise as we have heard throughout this Triduum, it is true. Because we now have possibility, we now have promise. Because Resurrection has broken into human history we enact its reality and truth and spread the message. Yes, it is an incredible day! We come to a tomb with our spices expecting to tend to a dead body only to find LIFE itself.
Br. John Forbis, OHC
Sunday, April 8, 2007
BCP - Easter early service C - 08 Apr 2007
Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Brother Bernard Delcourt, OHC
BCP – Easter early morning service C - Sunday 25 April 2007
Romans 6:3-11
Matthew 28:1-10
Psalm 114
Lord,
May your abiding Love guide us and enlighten us. May your joy be our joy and may your justice be our life. Amen.
*****
These courageous women of the Gospel went to the tomb early on the day after the Sabbath. We ourselves just went through Holy Saturday; we can only imagine how bitter and painful their Passover Sabbath must have been.
Now, after the Passover Sabbath, a religiously enforced time of inaction and contemplation, these courageous and perseverant women are eager to care for the body of their martyred friend and teacher.
They are worried about how they will gain access to his corpse. They are not so worried about persecution. Their society sees them as second-class citizens and to boot, as followers of a failed and discredited dissident. These women are seen as posing little threat to the established order.
But the tomb would be closed by a huge heavy circular slab that slid shut in front of the chamber –- a chamber hewn out of the rock face. How would they budge it out of place?
It is worth noting here that the male disciples have not yet gotten out of their fright and flight reaction to Jesus’ arrest, trial and crucifixion. The strength of fishermen used to hauling nets full of fish out of the water would be welcome this morning. But most probably, in their time and society, embalming a corpse is one of those tasks that gender expectations reserves to women.
*****
And here comes an important aside; sponsored by the son of a Northern European feminist…
If you have paid attention to the scripture readings of these last few weeks, you may have noticed how prominent women are in the narrative. And this, despite the narrative being edited and written by men.
Three points at least, require our attention.
Most importantly, it is a woman who first publicly recognizes Jesus as the Son of God and who symbolically anoints him accordingly. This is the woman in Bethany who anoints Jesus’ head with nard (nard worth a year’s wages, no less). Jesus enjoins that she be remembered by all generations; Matthew complies even if the woman remains nameless. Let’s note that this the only embalming Jesus will receive –- alive or dead -- at the hands of the women who follow him.
Second, women stay with Jesus to his bitter end on the cross. Among the male disciples, only John seems to be able to stay –-John who is probably a very young man issued from the elite of Judean society. As a result, he is not ethnically recognizable as a Galilean disciple of Jesus.
And finally, women are the first witnesses to the resurrection.
Is our God not giving us yet another blatant sign here? Isn’t God including all people in the Kingdom? Whether you are the under-valued, the disregarded or the despised of any society in which you live, full citizenship is yours in the Kingdom of God. May the hearers understand!
And I close this aside which was brought to you by a son of woman.
*****
And now back to the road to Golgotha or thereabouts… Our brave women arrive at 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.”
Well! That takes care of opening the tomb and of keeping the soldiers from pestering the women. But more to the point, the messenger of God is described in the same terms as those that were used for the Transfiguration of our Lord. This is one of these Gospel moments where we are transported into the Kingdom of God; it is more than breaking into our reality; for a moment, we live in that Kingdom.
And I love how casual the Angel is. I imagine her (I know, I know, we’ll restart the argument on the sex of angels another time) –- I imagine her sitting atop the circular stone, legs dangling in the air and looking at the women with a lovingly and amused look on her face.
‘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.’
And so, off they go, not a little frightened but elated at the same time. And it is when they have turned their backs on looking for Jesus among the dead that they encounter him among the living.
The gospel offers a parallel between Jesus being the first child of Mary’s virgin womb and Jesus being laid to rest in a cave freshly hewn from a the soft rock cliff (tuff is a soft volcanic stone that surrounds Jerusalem). Jesus is no longer in the womb of earth, in the chamber of death. He is alive and on the move again.
When a child is born, we don’t dote on and cherish the womb that generated the child; we -- including the mother -- all turn our attention to the child and the new relationships that emerge.
In the same way, Matthew, our Gospel source, takes us away from the tomb, away from Jerusalem and its Temple; away from this Temple that has failed to produce the fruit of justice and peace. The old Temple has failed. The new Temple, the resurrected Jesus, has been raised in three days as he had promised.
And Jesus invites us to get going on the roads of Galilee, on the roads where he preached: “The Kingdom of God is at hand”.
It is there that Jesus will give us the Great Commission to keep his commandments and make them known to the ends of the earth.
And so my beloved Brothers and Sisters:
- having crucified the concepts of God that we need to leave behind us, just as we leave Lent behind us,
- having welcomed and traveled with the questions that have no right to go away this Triduum,
I invite you to embrace Jesus’ commandment to “Love one another as I have loved you” and take it to the next territory that’s opening in our lives. Take it away from the tombs, the mausoleums, the buildings that try to enshrine truths or to petrify laws and take Jesus’ commandment to the roads of the world and the paths of our lives. Go to the Galilee of our times and there we will meet Him who is alive and on the move.
*****
Hallelujah! Christ is risen… The Lord is risen indeed. Hallelujah!
Brother Bernard Delcourt, OHC
BCP – Easter early morning service C - Sunday 25 April 2007
Romans 6:3-11
Matthew 28:1-10
Psalm 114
Lord,
May your abiding Love guide us and enlighten us. May your joy be our joy and may your justice be our life. Amen.
*****
These courageous women of the Gospel went to the tomb early on the day after the Sabbath. We ourselves just went through Holy Saturday; we can only imagine how bitter and painful their Passover Sabbath must have been.
Now, after the Passover Sabbath, a religiously enforced time of inaction and contemplation, these courageous and perseverant women are eager to care for the body of their martyred friend and teacher.
They are worried about how they will gain access to his corpse. They are not so worried about persecution. Their society sees them as second-class citizens and to boot, as followers of a failed and discredited dissident. These women are seen as posing little threat to the established order.
But the tomb would be closed by a huge heavy circular slab that slid shut in front of the chamber –- a chamber hewn out of the rock face. How would they budge it out of place?
It is worth noting here that the male disciples have not yet gotten out of their fright and flight reaction to Jesus’ arrest, trial and crucifixion. The strength of fishermen used to hauling nets full of fish out of the water would be welcome this morning. But most probably, in their time and society, embalming a corpse is one of those tasks that gender expectations reserves to women.
*****
And here comes an important aside; sponsored by the son of a Northern European feminist…
If you have paid attention to the scripture readings of these last few weeks, you may have noticed how prominent women are in the narrative. And this, despite the narrative being edited and written by men.
Three points at least, require our attention.
Most importantly, it is a woman who first publicly recognizes Jesus as the Son of God and who symbolically anoints him accordingly. This is the woman in Bethany who anoints Jesus’ head with nard (nard worth a year’s wages, no less). Jesus enjoins that she be remembered by all generations; Matthew complies even if the woman remains nameless. Let’s note that this the only embalming Jesus will receive –- alive or dead -- at the hands of the women who follow him.
Second, women stay with Jesus to his bitter end on the cross. Among the male disciples, only John seems to be able to stay –-John who is probably a very young man issued from the elite of Judean society. As a result, he is not ethnically recognizable as a Galilean disciple of Jesus.
And finally, women are the first witnesses to the resurrection.
Is our God not giving us yet another blatant sign here? Isn’t God including all people in the Kingdom? Whether you are the under-valued, the disregarded or the despised of any society in which you live, full citizenship is yours in the Kingdom of God. May the hearers understand!
And I close this aside which was brought to you by a son of woman.
*****
And now back to the road to Golgotha or thereabouts… Our brave women arrive at 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.”
Well! That takes care of opening the tomb and of keeping the soldiers from pestering the women. But more to the point, the messenger of God is described in the same terms as those that were used for the Transfiguration of our Lord. This is one of these Gospel moments where we are transported into the Kingdom of God; it is more than breaking into our reality; for a moment, we live in that Kingdom.
And I love how casual the Angel is. I imagine her (I know, I know, we’ll restart the argument on the sex of angels another time) –- I imagine her sitting atop the circular stone, legs dangling in the air and looking at the women with a lovingly and amused look on her face.
‘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.’
And so, off they go, not a little frightened but elated at the same time. And it is when they have turned their backs on looking for Jesus among the dead that they encounter him among the living.
The gospel offers a parallel between Jesus being the first child of Mary’s virgin womb and Jesus being laid to rest in a cave freshly hewn from a the soft rock cliff (tuff is a soft volcanic stone that surrounds Jerusalem). Jesus is no longer in the womb of earth, in the chamber of death. He is alive and on the move again.
When a child is born, we don’t dote on and cherish the womb that generated the child; we -- including the mother -- all turn our attention to the child and the new relationships that emerge.
In the same way, Matthew, our Gospel source, takes us away from the tomb, away from Jerusalem and its Temple; away from this Temple that has failed to produce the fruit of justice and peace. The old Temple has failed. The new Temple, the resurrected Jesus, has been raised in three days as he had promised.
And Jesus invites us to get going on the roads of Galilee, on the roads where he preached: “The Kingdom of God is at hand”.
It is there that Jesus will give us the Great Commission to keep his commandments and make them known to the ends of the earth.
And so my beloved Brothers and Sisters:
- having crucified the concepts of God that we need to leave behind us, just as we leave Lent behind us,
- having welcomed and traveled with the questions that have no right to go away this Triduum,
I invite you to embrace Jesus’ commandment to “Love one another as I have loved you” and take it to the next territory that’s opening in our lives. Take it away from the tombs, the mausoleums, the buildings that try to enshrine truths or to petrify laws and take Jesus’ commandment to the roads of the world and the paths of our lives. Go to the Galilee of our times and there we will meet Him who is alive and on the move.
*****
Hallelujah! Christ is risen… The Lord is risen indeed. Hallelujah!
Monday, April 2, 2007
BCP - Palm Sunday C - 01 Apr 2007
Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Brother Scott Wesley Borden, OHC
BCP - Palm Sunday C - 01 April 2007
Isaiah 45:21-25
Isaiah 52:13-53:12
Philippians 2:5-11
Luke (22:39-71)23:1-49(50-56)
I remember a time, not all that many years ago, but in a slightly different tradition, when Palm Sunday was just Palm Sunday. Come to church, remember Jesus’ triumphant ride into Jerusalem, get palms, go home. (I should add “annoy others by tickling them with said palms”.) We knew that crucifixion was coming, but not for a few days.
In our tradition, we come in rejoicing with palms, but triumph quickly yields to passion and we go out in the sorrow of crucifixion. We get palms with passion...
Putting these two very different things together - the triumphant road into Jerusalem and the road to the cross changes the way I think about these events. This palm-strewn road is really an express highway directly up the hill to Calvary - the road to life and death.
The association creates another association in my mind. There is a Buddhist teaching that says: “If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him.” Here is Jesus... and here is the road to Jerusalem... and we’re getting ready to kill him. What might the Buddhist tradition have to say that may help us at this particular moment?
To be sure, Buddhism can not give us answers about our relationship with God or Jesus. Its just not part of that tradition. And if your looking for answers, Buddhism is a bad choice. But it’s a great place for questions...
Why should I kill the Buddha if I should meet him on the road? Great Buddhist masters could spend tremendous time sitting with this question. We could spend the rest of our lives, or at least the rest of the morning... If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him.
But we’re hear to think about Jesus, and Palm Sunday, and the Passion. So I want to highlight just one thing: You can not meet the Buddha on the road. It just can’t happen. So if you meet someone or something that you think is the Buddha, its not: Its an illusion, or a delusion, or some type of lie. We’re not about killing the Buddha, we’re talking about getting rid of false knowledge. The Buddha that I think I've met stands between me and truth.
That’s beyond simplification and a total injustice to the Buddhist tradition, for which I apologize, but it’s enough for our purpose.
Back to Jesus and his triumphant march to death.
Are there ways that we think of Jesus, of God, that are illusions... delusions... falsehoods... dangerous lies? Are there people and things along the road that we have met and mistaken for God? ...objects of our own creation and affection that we want to think of as God?
Yes, absolutely. Some of them are pretty obvious.
Lets pick on Pat Robertson. He knows a god who, in order to punish our nation for our abundant moral failings, lifted the veil of his protection and allowed terrorists to fly planes into the World Trade Center. Sorry Pat, but I think your god has to go too.
Some people know a god who wants them to be rich... very, stinking rich. An appealing god no doubt, but a little hard to reconcile with Jesus who has deep concern for the poor, but pity and contempt for the rich. Prosperity god - your out of here.
Some people know a god who tilts the field in favor of their team. And as a nation we know, maybe only subliminally, but still we know a god who helps our army beat the other army. How much better would the world be without this particular god...
I knew an eleven-year-old who was afraid to pray. He explained to me that when his Grandmother was terminally ill he prayed for her to live - yet she had died. In his eleven-year-old mind he met a god who, for no particular reason, disliked him. So when he prayed for something, this god would do the opposite. How I long for some gentle way to kill this twisted god.
Its easy to see the false gods that other people need to be rid of. Its even a bit fun... I could go on and on... Blue-Eyed-Blond-Haired Jesus of the Sunday school books of my childhood... the god who assures people of one race that they are better than those of another... the god who gives people cancer and swats airplanes out of the sky... the god who doesn’t mind if we pollute the planet because he’s getting ready to destroy it anyway... the list is endless. As our President would say: “bring ‘em on.”
But it is really only a useful process, though not nearly as much fun, if I’m looking for my own false gods. I can’t rid someone else of their false gods any more than they can rid me of mine. It’s the Buddha that I meet, not the one someone else meets, with whom I have to be concerned.
If I meet the god of Pat Robertson along the road, I think I’d be happy to kill it. But I wouldn’t be a better person for doing so. I’d be a killer. As for the god of Pat Robertson - that god would probably just be stronger.
We hear over and over that Jesus died for us - for me. And there are various theologies of Jesus’ crucifixion.
But I’m beginning to understand a more personal one. Maybe part of the reason Jesus died for me is that I need Jesus to die... I need my image of Jesus to be crucified. It’s a very uncomfortable thought. I need to rid myself of some of my favorite images of Jesus. The Jesus that I know stands between me and Jesus.
Its not that all my images of Jesus are necessarily wrong or deluded, but they are all incomplete.
This holy week part of what I feel called to do is make sure that all my images of Jesus get nailed to that cross. All of my fantasies, my projections, my romantic expectations... all the “Jesuses” that I have met along the road. I have to kill Jesus so that on Easter I am ready to meet Jesus.
I’d love to say I thought it was going to be easier after Easter. It would be really great if the true Jesus was the only one that would resurrect. But I’m quite certain that just as surely as Jesus resurrects, I will be able to resurrect my fantasies and falsehoods.
Yet I do believe that I will be a little less attached to my fantasy images of Jesus after I have crucified them. If I can love the false knowledge a little less, I may be able to love the true Jesus a little more.
We do meet the authentic Jesus and we do know him. I’m drawn in particular to the Jesus who gives us a new mandate - that we love one another - that we be conspicuous in our love for one another - the Jesus of Maundy Thursday.
Jesus the triumphant riding like a King into Jerusalem is what I think I want, but Jesus humbly washing the feet of those who should serve him is real. The Jesus of Maundy Thursday calls me to humbly follow. For it is only in loving one another that we can claim to be followers of Jesus at all.
I begin this holy week not in the fear that Jesus will die, but in the faith that as I kill Jesus, through the mystery of the cross and resurrection, I will come closer to loving God.
Brother Scott Wesley Borden, OHC
BCP - Palm Sunday C - 01 April 2007
Isaiah 45:21-25
Isaiah 52:13-53:12
Philippians 2:5-11
Luke (22:39-71)23:1-49(50-56)
I remember a time, not all that many years ago, but in a slightly different tradition, when Palm Sunday was just Palm Sunday. Come to church, remember Jesus’ triumphant ride into Jerusalem, get palms, go home. (I should add “annoy others by tickling them with said palms”.) We knew that crucifixion was coming, but not for a few days.
In our tradition, we come in rejoicing with palms, but triumph quickly yields to passion and we go out in the sorrow of crucifixion. We get palms with passion...
Putting these two very different things together - the triumphant road into Jerusalem and the road to the cross changes the way I think about these events. This palm-strewn road is really an express highway directly up the hill to Calvary - the road to life and death.
The association creates another association in my mind. There is a Buddhist teaching that says: “If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him.” Here is Jesus... and here is the road to Jerusalem... and we’re getting ready to kill him. What might the Buddhist tradition have to say that may help us at this particular moment?
To be sure, Buddhism can not give us answers about our relationship with God or Jesus. Its just not part of that tradition. And if your looking for answers, Buddhism is a bad choice. But it’s a great place for questions...
Why should I kill the Buddha if I should meet him on the road? Great Buddhist masters could spend tremendous time sitting with this question. We could spend the rest of our lives, or at least the rest of the morning... If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill him.
But we’re hear to think about Jesus, and Palm Sunday, and the Passion. So I want to highlight just one thing: You can not meet the Buddha on the road. It just can’t happen. So if you meet someone or something that you think is the Buddha, its not: Its an illusion, or a delusion, or some type of lie. We’re not about killing the Buddha, we’re talking about getting rid of false knowledge. The Buddha that I think I've met stands between me and truth.
That’s beyond simplification and a total injustice to the Buddhist tradition, for which I apologize, but it’s enough for our purpose.
Back to Jesus and his triumphant march to death.
Are there ways that we think of Jesus, of God, that are illusions... delusions... falsehoods... dangerous lies? Are there people and things along the road that we have met and mistaken for God? ...objects of our own creation and affection that we want to think of as God?
Yes, absolutely. Some of them are pretty obvious.
Lets pick on Pat Robertson. He knows a god who, in order to punish our nation for our abundant moral failings, lifted the veil of his protection and allowed terrorists to fly planes into the World Trade Center. Sorry Pat, but I think your god has to go too.
Some people know a god who wants them to be rich... very, stinking rich. An appealing god no doubt, but a little hard to reconcile with Jesus who has deep concern for the poor, but pity and contempt for the rich. Prosperity god - your out of here.
Some people know a god who tilts the field in favor of their team. And as a nation we know, maybe only subliminally, but still we know a god who helps our army beat the other army. How much better would the world be without this particular god...
I knew an eleven-year-old who was afraid to pray. He explained to me that when his Grandmother was terminally ill he prayed for her to live - yet she had died. In his eleven-year-old mind he met a god who, for no particular reason, disliked him. So when he prayed for something, this god would do the opposite. How I long for some gentle way to kill this twisted god.
Its easy to see the false gods that other people need to be rid of. Its even a bit fun... I could go on and on... Blue-Eyed-Blond-Haired Jesus of the Sunday school books of my childhood... the god who assures people of one race that they are better than those of another... the god who gives people cancer and swats airplanes out of the sky... the god who doesn’t mind if we pollute the planet because he’s getting ready to destroy it anyway... the list is endless. As our President would say: “bring ‘em on.”
But it is really only a useful process, though not nearly as much fun, if I’m looking for my own false gods. I can’t rid someone else of their false gods any more than they can rid me of mine. It’s the Buddha that I meet, not the one someone else meets, with whom I have to be concerned.
If I meet the god of Pat Robertson along the road, I think I’d be happy to kill it. But I wouldn’t be a better person for doing so. I’d be a killer. As for the god of Pat Robertson - that god would probably just be stronger.
We hear over and over that Jesus died for us - for me. And there are various theologies of Jesus’ crucifixion.
But I’m beginning to understand a more personal one. Maybe part of the reason Jesus died for me is that I need Jesus to die... I need my image of Jesus to be crucified. It’s a very uncomfortable thought. I need to rid myself of some of my favorite images of Jesus. The Jesus that I know stands between me and Jesus.
Its not that all my images of Jesus are necessarily wrong or deluded, but they are all incomplete.
This holy week part of what I feel called to do is make sure that all my images of Jesus get nailed to that cross. All of my fantasies, my projections, my romantic expectations... all the “Jesuses” that I have met along the road. I have to kill Jesus so that on Easter I am ready to meet Jesus.
I’d love to say I thought it was going to be easier after Easter. It would be really great if the true Jesus was the only one that would resurrect. But I’m quite certain that just as surely as Jesus resurrects, I will be able to resurrect my fantasies and falsehoods.
Yet I do believe that I will be a little less attached to my fantasy images of Jesus after I have crucified them. If I can love the false knowledge a little less, I may be able to love the true Jesus a little more.
We do meet the authentic Jesus and we do know him. I’m drawn in particular to the Jesus who gives us a new mandate - that we love one another - that we be conspicuous in our love for one another - the Jesus of Maundy Thursday.
Jesus the triumphant riding like a King into Jerusalem is what I think I want, but Jesus humbly washing the feet of those who should serve him is real. The Jesus of Maundy Thursday calls me to humbly follow. For it is only in loving one another that we can claim to be followers of Jesus at all.
I begin this holy week not in the fear that Jesus will die, but in the faith that as I kill Jesus, through the mystery of the cross and resurrection, I will come closer to loving God.
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