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My heart beats for love. I want to be different. I want to be who I am called to be. WORTHY and LOVED!

Thursday, March 29, 2012

Meditation on Hebrews 5: 5-10

Have you ever met someone with the gift of praying? Someone who captures just what you want to say and relays it to God, or causes you to pause and think with their words? I met one such faithful pray-er a few months ago while at a seminar in New York City. This gentleman started off by offering up to Jesus a variety of the different names that he holds and thanking him for them. Son of God and Son of Man. Prince of Peace. Emmanuel. Savior. The Great I Am. The Word. The True Light. The Bread of Life. The Cup of Salvation. The Lamb of God. Our Lord. The Shepherd. The Way. The Root of Jesse. The Vine. The Rock of Ages. The list went on and on. It made me really stop and think about just who Jesus is in our lives, and how he is so much more then we can ever contain him to be in our minds.

One of the titles lifted up to Jesus in praise during that prayer was high priest, which is what the author of Hebrews is focusing on in today’s passage. Jesus is a unique type of priest - one appointed by God to a salvific mission. The one who will be priest forever and who offers up our prayers and supplications. This title may be one that we ascribe to Jesus, but do we really know what it means?

Sometimes we are prone to forget that the letters in the Bible were written to specific groups of people at distinct points of time in history. The Letter to the Hebrews was written to Christians with Jewish roots experiencing persecution. This group of people would have understood the idea of a high priest from the days of the temple, where the priests offered sacrifices on behalf of the people. But Jesus went beyond that by offering himself as a sacrifice, thus making him the perfect high priest.

Most of us, however, are unfamiliar in our daily lives with the image of a priest offering sacrifices on our behalf. What we are perhaps more familiar with is the idea of a pastor or priest - someone who is fully human, struggling like the rest of us, who is called to bear and lift up the needs of a community. Just as Jesus is the high priest because of his sacrifice, so is he the high priest because he bears us up to God. In fact, the text tells us that he offers up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears. Can you picture this image? Jesus is offering up to God tears on our behalf. He is bearing the pain and confusion and brokenness of humanity and presenting it to God.

When we think of Jesus on the cross, especially during the season of Lent, we focus on Jesus bearing the sins of the world. But he bore more then that that day. He bore all of our pain and struggles. All of our dashed hopes and shattered dreams. All of the times that someone has hurt us. All of our isolation and loneliness. All of the times we cried out to God because we didn’t understand what was going on. All of our suffering. He bore that too. Those things that weren’t sin that we committed. And in some cases weren’t even sins committed against us. Jesus came and bore all of the tears, groans to deep for words, and pain ridden silences. Jesus death was not just about bearing our guilt, but also our grief. And Jesus continues to bear those things for us after his death and resurrection - for he is our high priest forever.

Because Jesus was both son of God and son of man, he walked in our shoes and understands what is like to be human, because he was human. He can identify with all our of pain and longing, because he has been here, experiencing the pain of our flesh. He gets it. His death stands not as a path to necessary eradicate that pain, but one of compassion and coming along side us to lighten our load. He cries with us.

And that, brothers and sisters, is what we are called to do as well, as Christ’s church. Jesus, as our high priest, has modeled for us how to come along side the oppressed, the hurting, the lonely. The sick, the broken-hearted, the ones who feel like their lives are crumbling apart. The poor, the war-torn, the orphans, and stand with them and cry for them.

I don’t know about you but when I’m really hurting, the last thing I want is for someone to pontificate to me. The last thing I want is for someone to give me a trite bit of wisdom. I want someone I love to just sit and cry with me. And that is what Christ does. The one who loves us best, sits and cries for our brokenness. The one who loves us best, submitted himself as a sacrifice so he could understand better our brokenness.

Do you recall the story of Jesus at the tomb of Lazarus, where he wept for the death of his friend before he resurrected him? Do you recall the story of Gethsemane, where Jesus was deeply anguished and asked that this cup be taken from him? Do you recall the pain and separation that Christ felt on Calvary? At all of those places where Jesus was deeply distressed, he had passionate prayers lifted up to God, on his behalf, on the behalf of those whom he loved, for the world. Don’t our most sincere prayers also emerge sometimes during our times of deepest distress, either for ourselves or others? Times when we trust Christ to be our high priest and mediator? Times when we trust that Christ understands our pain because he has been there?

Our high priest is both the Son of Man and Son of God. He is both approachable and holy. And this is the week when we get to experience all of who Jesus is to us as we venture through holy week. We encounter the one who understands our human-ness, who has suffered through situations similar to ours, and the one who gave everything for us on the cross in order to save us. The one who is human like us, yet sacrificial and holy as God. We may never fully understand how Jesus is our high priest, or what this week truly means to us, but we do know that Jesus means something to us. I would encourage you to reflect on what exactly Jesus means to you this week and how Jesus is high priest in your life. Amen.

Monday, March 26, 2012

The Torture and Humiliation of the King - Mark 15: 15-23

Often when people are asked to tell about the story of the last 24 hours of Jesus life, or even the story of his suffering, they move straight from Jesus being sentenced to death by Pilate to him hanging on the cross. But there is so much more to the story then that. Jesus was tortured and humiliated before he could even get to the cross. Yet, we want to gloss over that. It is the torture that makes Mel Gibbson’s Passion of the Christ movie difficult to watch. It forces us to come face to face with just how much Jesus gave for us. And that makes us feel uncomfortable.

After the sentence had been passed, the soldiers around the palace lead him to the courtyard on the grounds to be flogged. Only one gospel, Luke, does not mention this torture technique. Flogging is something that has happened for centuries, though we rarely talk about it in the United States. It’s at its most simplistic form, the practice of striking someone with an object. However, the Roman government during the time of Jesus’ arrest and conviction hardly ever used the simplistic form. Instead, they trained soldiers to be lictors, or specialists in bringing pain through flogging. They used a whip made of leather that had bits of sharp objects embedded throughout it -such as stone, glass, metal, or bone - to rip the flesh. There was even one special whit that had nails fastened into it, to tear the muscle from the bone. The person being flogged would be stripped and bent over a post, so their back was exposed. They would then have their arms tied down, usually to the sides, so the lictors had even more flesh to hit. Then the physical torture began.

Flogging was meant to be watched, like many other forms of torture. The hope was that so many people would be repulsed by the act that they would be deterred from wrong doing. Another goal of flogging was to leave the victim just alive enough to be in incredible pain when they were nailed to the cross.

The lictors were cruel in their techniques and lived off of the cheers of the crowds and begging of the victims. Yet, we are not told that Jesus said a single word. We are not told that he begged for mercy, which is what they truly were hoping for. For someone to beg for mercy so they could deny it of them. It is reasonable to assume that the lictors became angry at the lack of response from Jesus and were even more vicious in their flogging.

When they could not break him physically, they wanted to break him psychologically. So they called together the whole court, between 300 and 600 soldiers. They gathered around to make a spectacle of Jesus and to humiliate him. Mark tells us that they clothed in a purple cloak and shoved a crown of thorns on his head, mocking the title of King of the Jews. The cloak would have only been draped over one shoulder and covered his back, making the fresh wounds stick to the fabric. The crown of thorns, was meant to be a mockery of the crown given at the Roman games to the victor. It is often depicted as being shoved the whole way down to Jesus’ brow line - cutting into his flesh. Then some knelt before him, like a champ or a king, and cried, “Hail the King of the Jews!”

The humiliation did not stop there. They continued to flog him, this time with reeds coming at him from every angle. They spat upon him. And continued their mocking cries. Jesus had lost his humanity in their eyes, and only existed for their amusement.

What is perhaps most upsetting for me about this entire aspect of the suffering of Christ is that he could have stopped it at any time. Jesus was still the son of man and the son of God. He had the power and authority to make the entire thing go away. Jesus wanted to understand everything we go through - even the psychological harm we face in the hands of others. He wanted to understand the pain that each prisoner went through. He loved us enough that he faced so much more then death.

This story makes me question how human beings can be so cruel? Why we have the ability at times to act with such malice? Is it part of our human nature or are we conditioned to set aside our humanity? These are not new questions I ask. And they don’t just arise from this story. When I was in high school, my dad and I went to Europe with my German teacher. One of the stops on our itinerary was Dachue, an externiment camp rom World War 2. When you enter into the gates the first place you are ushered is into a movie theater where you watch a film about what took place within the walls. Some people don’t even make it through the movie. When you leave the theater, you just feel a weight come upon you, as the images haunt your mind. And everyone walks around the camp in complete silence. No one asks you to, it is just a result of thinking about the unspeakable horrors that took place. And lest we think that Germans were the only ones to torture and kill political prisoners, which is what the people in the camp were labeled as - threats to society because of their religious beliefs, political leanings, sexuality, the list goes on and on - we only need to think about the Abu Ghraib prision following 9/11. Or even the news stories that we have heard this week. Villages being attacked. Teens being shot. Evil exists. And people commit evil against other people for little or no reason. Ordinary people who did awful things. Is that capability inside of all of us?

When reflecting on the flogging and humiliation of Jesus, author and pastor Adam Hamilton made the following statement, “For every child who was ever picked on, taunted, or humiliated, Jesus stood there that day. For every man or woman who was ever made to feel small by others, he stood there that day. For every victim of torture, everyone falsely condemned, everyone who has been abused by another, he stood there as if God were saying, ‘I subject myself to all the hate and meanness of others so I could identify with you.’”

The torture and humiliation did not end in the courtyard that day. The soldiers put Jesus clothes back on him and lead him to the hill called Calvary, or skull. The walk from the courtyard to the hill is only about 1/3 of a mile and can be done in a few minutes for a healthy person. But Jesus was now dehydrated, weak, and bleeding. He was saddled with a 75lb piece of wood that would be the cross beam that he would hang from. It would have taken Jesus at least 30 minutes to struggle up the hill.

Jesus probably stumbled and reached the point where he could no longer carry the beam so the guards pulled a man from the crowd to carry it for him. Mark tells us that Simon the Cyrene was coming in from the country and was compelled by the guards to carry the cross. Probably a Jew simply in Jerusalem to celebrate Passover, Simon was stuck in the midst of the drama, carrying the beam on his back and supporting Jesus up the hill, what did he think of the scene?

When they finally reached the spot where Jesus was to be crucified the soldiers offered him wine mixed with myrrh, a painkiller. But he refused it. For those who know the story of Jesus’ birth, we remember that myrrh was one of the gifts brought to the Christ child by the men from the east. When commenting on Jesus’ refusal of the wine, Hamilton writes, “It is as he needed to say, ‘I will bear the full brunt of what I am about to do. I will not deaden the pain.’”

Its a painful story to hear, and we are not even to Jesus’ agony upon the cross yet. But even more troubling is the thought that Jesus did that - he went through all of that - for me, and for my redemption. His suffering stands as a testament to my, to our, brokeness. But despite my brokenness and the evil that humans committed against him, Jesus choose to let his love be exhibited through an extravagant means. He was sacrificial in his love for each and every one of us. His love changed the course of human history and changed us individually. His death is why I believe that we can transform the world. And why I believe that people need to hear about this God who loved us so much that he faced the impossible just to connect with us even further. In a compassionless situation, Jesus had compassion even on those who tortured and humiliated him. And that is why our God is in the words of the popular worship song, “Our God is mighty to save.” Because he chose not to save himself that day in order to save us from even our worst selves, and bring love and hope into this broken world. Amen.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

Lent 4 - Mark 15: 1-15

The early morning was approaching, and the sentence had been passed. Jesus had been condemned on charges of blasphemy by the religious leaders. They had made it through the trial without an uprising by any of his followers - their plan of having the trial in the dead of the night had worked. However, now they had a new problem on their hands. As religious leaders they had no right to put anyone to death, and the Roman government surely wouldn’t consider a religious offense worthy of a capitol punishment.

At dawn, Jesus was bound again and lead away from the palace of the high priest to Stone Pavement, the place where he would be tried by the Roman governor, Pontius Pilate. Since the charge of blasphemy would not hold, the Sanhedrin presented Jesus under the charge of insurrection against the government, because he was claiming to be the Messiah, the one who would rule the people. Rome ruled the Jewish people, not a single individual. Rome would kill someone claiming to be King of the Jews.

The walk was short, as Pilates’ fortress was only a quarter mile away, adjacent to the temple. A small crowd followed Jesus, mostly people who were pleased to be notified of Jesus’ arrest, like the money changers whose tables he had overturned. The last day of Jesus’ life had begun, and the only people in the crowd who loved him were his mother, Mary, the beloved disciples, John, and possibly Peter.

Pilate saw right through the schemes and plans of the Sanhedrin. The Jewish religious leaders had always abhorred his presence in their community, especially so close to the temple. The only time they came to him was when they wanted him to do their dirty work, in this case, killing a man whom he saw no fault in. This man had no intention on leading a rebellion against Rome, like others had before him. The Jewish leaders had to know that. Yet, they brought him to Pilate to be killed. The only good of this charge was that it would force Jesus to deny that he was the Messiah, which was what the Sanhediran really wanted, or have him permanently silenced by death.

We remember very few sermons in our lives. Just as we remember very few lessons, word for word, that we receive in a classroom. If we are lucky, we learn the spirit of the message and carry it with us. But I remember the sermon that accompanied this week in Lent when I was a junior in college. Up to that point I was having a hard time finding a church home. But that particular Sunday I was invited to a church where the sermon series for Lent was being preached, or rather acted out, from the perspectives of different people in the Lenten story. This Sunday was Pilate. I remember how the Pastor, portraying Pilate, described Jesus’ silence when he questioned him. How he dipped his hands into a bowl of water, declaring himself clean from an unclean decision. And I remember the Pastor’s face as he described Pilate’s agony over the decision.

Pilate was not a good person. He was described by historians as “a man of inflexible disposition, harsh, and stubborn.” Other historians as “cruel, corrupt, and violent”. When he couldn’t get Jewish taxes raised in order to be an aqueduct in Jerusalem, he simply took the money from the temple. He killed some people who came to the temple, along with others who followed a Samaritan prophet. He didn’t always, or perhaps even mostly, do the right thing.

Yet, Pilate was trying to do the right thing in this situation. First, he questioned Jesus, hoping that he would simply refute that he was the Messiah. But Jesus was stoic in his demeanor and silent in his responses. I often wish that Jesus would stand up for himself, try to save himself. And I’m sure that this is what Pilate expected him to do. But instead, when asked, “Are you the King of the Jews?” he gave a cryptic answer, “You say so.” And Jesus returned to his silence. As I’ve reflected on Jesus’ silence this week, I cannot help but think that it has something to do with his resolve - he knew what he had to do and knew that there was no going back. This was his call. This was his destiny.

Not receiving much help from Jesus, Pilate tried again to do the right think and save Jesus, by having the crowd choose to have Jesus’ released to them instead of Barabbas. Pilate had a tradition that he followed to win the support of the Jewish people. Every year he released one prisioner during the feast of Passover, as a symbolic gesture of his mercy. Usually, Pilate choose who he would release, but this year, he wanted to give the people a choice. If they had a choice and choose Jesus, then the Sanhediran would be silenced.

Yet, things did not go as Pilate expected them to, once again. The crowd chose Barabbas. A man who was truly guilty of leading an insurrection against Rome. He had murdered Romans, and had robbed many to get money to support his cause. The crowd choose this many of many crimes, over Jesus of Nazareth, who had done nothing wrong. They choose the murder over the one who taught and exhibited love.

Not much thought is usually paid to Barabbas. He was simply the one who got a “get out of jail free” card that day. But really, he was so much more then that. He was the first person Jesus traded his life for - the first sinner set free by Jesus’ gift of life. During the same sermon series I mentioned before - the pastor spent the entire fifth Sunday in Lent portraying Barabbas and the many questions he had. Why would Jesus not speak up for himself? Why would the crowds choose to let him go instead of this one whom they had loved and followed?

The concept of someone laying down their lives for others is not new - but the thought of laying it down seems to shock us non the less. This week marked an anniversary. On March 16th, 2003, a 23 year old American named Rachel Corrie was killed in Gaza, when she knelt before a home to try to stop a bull dozer from demolishing the house of friends. The bull dozer ending up crushing her and the home. Rachel laid down her life for others. Others whom she loved. Jesus laid down his life, trading himself as an atonement, or offering, for our sins. He laid down his life for those whom he loved, but did not love him in return, including Barabbas.

Pilate and Barabbas were not the only ones taken aback that day - I wonder what people in the crowds were feeling. This crowd was small, with only a few dozen to hundreds of people at the most. This was not a crowd of all of the Jewish people in Jerusalem for Passover as some of us have believed. These were people with enough reason to gather around 6 o’clock in the morning to demand Jesus’ death. This was not representative of the many people who loved Jesus, and whose lives had been changed by him. Of course there were many present in the crowd, who like Judas, simply turned the wrong way or became disillusioned with Jesus. Like the Sanhediran, were there possibly some people in the crowd who knew that they were doing the wrong thing, those who knew that they should speak up for the release of Jesus? Were they simply too scared to do the right thing? A reoccurring theme in the story of the last 24 hours of Jesus’ life.

Pilate, like the crowd, was swept up in mob mintatlity by that point in time. He had tried time and time again to get the crowd to do what he thought they should do - and then he simply gave up. He still had the authority to set Jesus’ free, and he still bleieved that Jesus was innocent, but he gave into the will of the crowd, wishing to statisfy them. The voices in the crowd got to him.

How many of you consider yourself to be a leader? Someone whom others look up to. Pilate was by his very title and job description, a leader. Yet, he seemed to forget that at times its the job of the leader to not cater to the people. To not give into the will of the people when the leader knows that its wrong. To stand up for what is right and to forge forward with a vision, even when it is unpopular. All leaders meet opposition, usually both from within those whom they are leading and outside from people who don’t really understand what’s going on. But when leaders cater to the naysayers, and give into their wishes, they are no longer leaders, but followers. Followers who are subject to all of the fears that we have been talking about week after week this Lenten season.

What have you done because the crowd has persuaded you to? All of us experience pressure from others, whether we classify ourselves as leaders or not. What are we going to do about that pressure? Do we seek to do what is in God’s will, what is right and good? Or do we simply give in, like Pilate, because we are wishing to satisfy others instead of God? Who are the people in our lives who are holding us accountable for how we act and what we decide? Other strong people, who pray for God’s direction and will, or the crowd that goes from whim to whim? Are you willing to risk doing the unpopular, this Lenten season and beyond, if God asks you to? Or is the voice of the crowd too loud for you to hear God’s till small voice? Powerful questions that call for our reflection and honest answers.

My hope for us is that we let go of our Pilate-like dispositions to betray God in order to please others. I pray that we become leaders like Christ Jesus, who faced the unimaginable with a sense of resolve that can only come from knowing what we have to do. This week in confirmation class we talked about how the Holy Spirit leads us to be more like Jesus, or in Wesleyan terms, towards perfection. It may not happen overnight, but it can happen, if only our hearts and wills are turned towards the one who has uncompromising love for us. Amen.


Monday, March 12, 2012

Condemned by the Righteous -Mark 14

With his feet and hands shackled, Jesus was lead out of the garden, across the Kidron Valley, up the steep Eastern side of Mount Zion, to the palace of the high priest. A journey that is over a mile, and would have taken at least twenty minutes in heavy shackles. What was running through Jesus’ mind during the journey? Was he thinking about his disciples, whom he had spent day after day with after calling them from the edge of the Galilean lake, and how they had now fled? Was he thinking about the ancient priests, as the processional passed their tombs? Did he think about what the Temple had become - a place for the prophet of priests and prophets instead of a place to worship God - as they passed it as well? Or was he simply agonizing over what he had to do next?

Jesus was probably pushed and pulled during this journey, and forced to move at the pace of those leading him, those without shackles, as he climbed the long staircase from the lower city of Jerusalem to the upper city. Finally, they would have arrived at the house of Caiaphas, the high priest. The house was not only a dwelling place, but also an alternative meeting place for the Sanhedrin, the Jewish ruling council composed of what was thought to be the 71 wisest men in Jerusalem. This ruling body had existed since the days of Moses, and was supposed to be govern the people on the behalf of God. These men were in charge of governing all religious affairs for the Jewish people. They were men who devoted their life to the law and the Temple. Men who had devoted their life to the work of God.

The house of Caiaphas also contained a cell for prisioners. Jesus was probably lowered by ropes into the dungeon while the trial took place during the evening. Forced to lay on the hard ground, Jesus awaited to hear about his fate, though he already knew what it would be. Above him the trial began. Though this would not be a normal trial. Usually the Sanhedrin met during the day in the Temple. Usually they did not meet during religious feasts, let along the feast of all feasts, Passover. But this was not a normal trial. They felt the need to deal with Jesus as quickly as possible.

The law required that at least two men speak of charges against Jesus in identical testimony. Lots of people stood up to testify against Jesus. But either what they said didn’t warrant a capital offense or their testimonies didn’t agree. Some thought that the people who testified against him were the money changers who tables were overturned. Others may have been those who misheard Jesus when he said, “You destroy this temple and in three days I will rebuild it” - a mark of terrorism. Finally, the high priest had enough and he simply asked Jesus, “Are you the Messiah” and Jesus answered with two words which the Gospel of Mark record in the Greek, “Ego eimi”, “I am”.

Two powerful words. Not as simple as saying, “I am he” or “Yes, I am the Messiah”. Words that echoed God’s answer to Moses at the site of the burning bush when Moses asked who he should tell the Jewish people had sent him and God answered, “I am”. Words that echoed Jesus many teachings that started with “I am”. I am the bread of life. I am the true light. With this statement Jesus tied himself to God. But he did not stop there. He went on to quote from the book of Daniel, saying, “And you will see the Son of Man...coming with the clouds of heaven.” A statement that his kingdom was not on this earth, but was to come. In one short sentence, Jesus declared that he was indeed the Messiah, with a special relationship with God.

Not a single person out of the remaining 70 objected when the high priest rendered his clothing and condemned Jesus, asking Do we need more witnesses! This man has blasphemed and is worthy of death!. I have to wonder of any of them had thought the trial had been unfair or a shame. Yet not one of them spoke out, other then Joseph of Arimatha by his later actions. It reminds us that it is hard to resist the people with the power, even when they are doing the wrong thing. We’ve all been there. Times when we have went with the crowd even though we knew that it was wrong. Times that we did not speak up. It reminds me of a quote of Edmund Burke that says, “the only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good [people] to do nothing.” John Wesley even had a phrase for this - sins of omission. The sins of keeping silent.

The trial was over. Jesus, the son of God had been condemned on changes of blaspmany. Then the religious leaders did the unspeakable. They blindfolded Jesus. Spit on him. Mocked him. Beat him. Taunting him with their cries to “prophesy to us!” and asking “who is it that struck you?”

There is a modern parable that goes like this.

The Commander of the Occupation troops said to the Mayor of the mountain village: “We are certain that you are hiding a traitor in your village.Unless you give him up to us, we shall harass you and your people by every means in our power.”

The village was, indeed, hiding a man who seemed good and innocent and was loved by all. But what could the Mayor do now that the welfare of the whole village was threatened? Days of discussions in the Village Council led to no conclusion. So the Mayor finally took the matter up with the village priest. The priest and the Mayor spent a whole night searching the Scriptures and finally came up with a solution. There was a text that said, “It is better that one man die and the nation be saved.”

So the Mayor handed over the innocent man to the Occupation Forces, begging to be pardoned. The man said there was nothing to pardon. He would not want to put the village in jeopardy. He was tortured cruelly till his screams could be heard by all the village and finally he was put to death.

Twenty years later a prophet passed by the village, went right up to the Mayor and said to him: “What did you do? That man was appointed by God to be the saviour of this country. And you gave him up to be tortured and killed.

“What could I do?” pleaded the Mayor. “The priest and I looked at the Scriptures and acted accordingly.”

“That was your mistake,” said the prophet. “You looked at the Scripture. You should have looked into his eyes.”

I think of that story a lot when I read about what happened at the home of Caiaphas that evening. Men who had devoted their lives to the work of God and knowing about God did not take the time to look into the eyes of God in the flesh incarnate in Jesus Christ. He choose to came in the figure of an ordinary man, who did extraordinary things, and that was too much for the religious authorities to handle. It was not the people who considered themselves “sinners” who arrested Jesus. It was not the people others labeled as “sinners” that put him on trial. It was the most pious of the most pious. And they were blind to God being amongst them.

The Sanhediran were blinded by their love for power, their love for all the things in the world that glitter and attract people. Before we go speaking ill of them, casting the metaphorical stone, I think we need to ask ourselves how we are like them. Have we ever failed to notice the Holy Spirit moving amongst us because it didn’t look like how we expected it to? Did we ever do the wrong thing or turn against God because of our love of power and prestige? Did we ever hang on to tightly to religious dogma instead of praying to act with the love of Christ? Have we ever thought that Jesus’ way was threatening our identity or sense of power? Our very way of life?

The Sanhediran thought that Jesus was dangerous. For them and for the Jewish people, just as the religious leader in the parable thought the criminal was dangerous for the city. Perhaps they even thought that Jesus would attract unsolicited attention from the Roman government. They let their fears and insecurities get the better of them, just like we do from time to time. They let their fear breed hate. And sadly that is part of the human condition embedded in all of us because of sin. How have we let our fear motivate us instead of the love of God?

American history is full of times when we have translated fear into beliefs instead of surrendering our fear to God in order to love our neighbors. The Salem witch trials. The Jim Crow laws. Our foreign policy following 9/11. The list goes on and on. Not only have our individual fears caused us to bring harm to other children of God, but so have our cooperate ones. We really need to take a good long look at ourselves and what we have done out of fear before saying that we would never had acted as the Sanhediran did.

Jesus and his captors were not the only ones making the journey under the cloak of darkness. Peter trailed behind the procession, afraid and confused. Peter is often remembered this evening for denying Jesus three times, but Peter should equally be remembered for his courage in the face of danger. He alone was the one who attacked Jesus captors in a misguided attempt to protect the one he loved. He alone followed Jesus, no matter what the cost, to the trial, even making it into the courtyard. But his courage only lasted so long, and finally someone said that they knew him and he denied it. But when all was said and done and he had denied Jesus three times, his eyes met Christ’s and he was convicted by his own shame and guilt.

While the accounts of what happened during the last 24 hours of Jesus life vary between the gospels, Peter’s denial is in all four. Scholars have supposed this is because Peter told of his denial as he taught the early church, proclaiming that while he betrayed the Lord, Jesus met him with grace and welcomed him back, just as Christ would do for any of us who have betrayed him as well.

How have you betrayed Jesus? Has your fear and greed caused you to not recognize who he truly is, as was the case with the Sanhediran? Or has your fight or flight response caused you to act in ways that do not honor Christ or run away from knowing him completely, like Peter? No matter how we deny Jesus, and no matter how many times we turn away, Jesus still is the I am. The one whose kingdom is to come. And no matter how you have betrayed him, Jesus will welcome you back with open arms. No matter what. And, my friends, I can think of no better news then that.

Saturday, March 10, 2012

Appointments

General Conference is going to be interesting this year, not that it usually isn't, but there's a lot of restricting legislation on the table. One of the legislation pieces is about a cease in guaranteed appointments for ordained clergy. I've been reading and following this legislation since its infancy, and I still go back and forth about what I think. I do believe that clergy should be held accountable to effectiveness, however, I still have a list of questions that have not been answered: how will effectiveness be measured and is it a reflection of Kingdom ideals or humans?, how will young clergy be evaluate under this approach, because it takes time to live into effectiveness?, how will churches be held accountable for effectiveness, because clergy are not miracle workers?, what happens if an appointment is not a good match, this preventing effectiveness? Among others.

But today I read an interview with a bishop that made me change my feelings on the matter. As much as I questioned, I was still for the change. But in the interview he clearly said this legislation is not so much about the 3 percent of in effective clergy as it was about not having enough appointments, due to small churches. What a defeatist attitude. It's essentially saying, clergy need to be effective enough to create full time appointments in order to have one. And that is a shame. And it is putting our perspective in the wrong place, which grieves me. Should I be held accountable, yes. Should I be measure on growth, maybe. Should I have to build my own job, no. That is not the belief of the appointment system, and it is leading us down the path that is one step away from the call system. How am I supposed to do effective ministry, when I'm working for my own security, especially as a single young woman who went straight into ministry with no fall back plan? Where is our faith and priority as a denomination?


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Where's the Training?

I love college-aged ministry and I love young- adult ministry, but unless you work in that world, people rarely make a distinction. I was thinking washout that this week when I was ambushed by a woman at a church service I attended - I attended because I will be leading in a few weeks and wanted to get a feel for the service, but all she saw was fresh meat. I wish I could say that this is the only time this has happened - but it's not. In fact it's the third time this month.

Perhaps what bothered me the most about this encounter was the assumptions that come with it. Often people think that having young people in their pews will save the church, and act accordingly, but the recruitment tactics, shall we say, scare off rather then attract. Too many churches approach young adults as a prize to be acquired instead of one part of the beautiful inter-generational church community. They Want them there for their benefit, and thus alienate.

I've been straight forward with my folks, we will not be reaching out to the college students in our area until we have an intentional conversation about how to treat them with respect and love. A novel idea, right? We assume that we interact with everyone well, I mean what church would advertise themselves as anything less then friendly?, but we need training once in a while to remind us to embrace all diversity, including age, in a way that reflects the kingdom of god. Yet that isn't our model for life or ministry, we do and then clean up the mess instead of train and then deploy. But the second is much more of the vein of discipleship that Jesus taught. Are we willing to listen and learn or do we demand and scare away?


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Sunday, March 4, 2012

Wit

Yesterday, I went to go see a profound play on Broadway, "Wit". I'm saddened by the fact it had such a short running time . More people should be able to experience it. The basic plot line follows a highly education, but disconnected, woman through her battle with stage four ovarian cancer.
I haven't cried as much as I did during "Wit" for a long time. I cried for the people I knew who have struggled with cancer - both those who have won and lost the battle. I cried for the people I know who are lonely in deep ways. I cried for those who have to hide themselves from everyone around them, in one way or another. And I cried because so much of what the play showcased in the medical world, was my experience during CPE. Physicans and medical students who were bidding their time until better things came along, at the expense of their patients. Overworked nurses. And far too few people who had the time to explore the deep issues on peoples hearts and minds, the questions of the soul. This is why I believe the ministry of the hospital chaplain is so vital and why I support CPE.
Time and time again throughout the play I kept asking myself where is the chaplain? Where is the person to comfort the woman who knew she was dying? I found myself getting upset with the young doctor in the play - who finally came out at the end, after not honoring her DNR and calling a code, and said he say her as research, not a person. But at the time same time he also admitted that people were not his passion, research was. He was caught between what was expected and what he loved, and people just got shuffled around and displaced in the midst of that. There was also a nurse in the play. She tried to connect with the patient, but she didn't have the words for the questions of the soul. She simply was present. What a ministry that was! But she couldn't bring comfort, physical or spiritual, as the time came for the woman to die.
Death. Something that we objectify and study, instead of realizing that it is something profound that cannot be qualified or captured in words or numbers. Death. The end of life that more and more doctors try to beat, instead of embrace, even when it is clearly time. We try to outrun and outsmart death because the medical world sees it as a failure, not sometime to be welcomed, which makes the transition even harder. With so many people around you in the hospital fearing death themselves, who is the person you can discuss it with? Where was the chaplain?
This is not to say that the role is exclusive to the chaplain. I think back at Hershey's program they piloted to have nurses, residents, and doctors take abbreviated CPE classes. I hope that program can be resumed in the future. But for the time being, far too few institutions have this commitment to embracing the spiritual part of healthcare and yes, even death, on the path to wholeness, and far too few have educated chaplains trained to be with people during this time.
The other thing I took away from "Wit" was a reflection on the Psalms. The main character was a scholar of the poet, John Donne, and when she recited his poems she did it with emotion that came from understanding what he was trying to communicate, the emotion that matched her own. That's what our experience of the Psalms should be like as a church. Yet, far too often we read them in a uni-tone, without emotion, like a textbook, instead of letting them connect to our spirits. Finding a piece of literature that expresses us, that gets us, can be life transforming. When will those in the pews find this in the scriptures and embrace it for all that it is worth?

Thoughts from a Young Clergy

Tomorrow a group of young clergy is gathering with the cabinet and the bishop to discuss well... being a young clergy. I've been thinking a lot since this meeting was announced what I wanted to say, but I also fully realize that for a myriad of reasons I probably won't utter a word of it tomorrow. So I thought I would express myself on here.

I believe in the connectional system. I affirm as part of that system that we need each other as clergy, and I believe this is why we meet together as a cluster and a ministerium. We need to be with each other, because we need to be able to express ourselves and have someone come along side us who understands what we are going through. However, there are many times of the last two years that I have found such meetings, and others like it, to not be a safe place at all as a young clergy. Times when I have been degraded by such actions as being patted on the head, like a dog or a small child. Times when clergy have told me that my ministry won't be worth anything because I am young. Times I have been told that obviously God has not given me any authority (despite being told to "Take thou authority") because I am young and no one in a congregation will ever respect me. Times when the ultimate goal has been to stamp out my idealism and squash my passion. All of this from other colleagues. In our conference, the norm is not to have someone enter into the ministry at a young age - it may have been this way some time ago, but not any more. The norm is second or third career pastors, which changes both the face and education level of pastors, making young post-seminary pastors the minority, and like any minority, they are feared by some, including those who are supposed to be supportive colleagues.
I am not sharing this in hopes of having others be reprimanded, simply to bring it to the attention of the cabinet that as young clergy, in some instances we are not only not being supported by our congregations, who wonder what we have to offer at our age, our communities, who are ever growing accustomed to the face of older (male) pastors, but our colleagues as well. Even those who seem to be supportive demand that we mature in ministry by being like them - which is most cases requires setting aside our gifts, calling, and health to do so. Where is the place where I can be supported for simply being me, the me that God has called into ministry?
I also would like to ask the cabinet what they are doing to support young clergy. Yes, some of us as individuals have been sent to conferences, and others to trainings, specific to young clergy, but what are you doing for us as a group? How are you supporting us as young people in ministry? I would first like to suggest that changing the age of what is considered to be young, is in fact, not supportive. It is simply trying to make the group seem larger then it is. What at the age of 25 do I have in common with a 38 year old? We have enough disparities in the 23-35 year old age range because of life transitions - some of us are married. Some have children. Others are single. Some live with roommates. Others live alone. This is the time in life when their is the most diversity naturally, and expanding the age of what is considered to be "young" is not necessary. 38 is only young in terms of this vocation when it is compared to the median age, which is ever rising due to the influx of second career CLMs and Local Pastors.
Those of us who were at the Bishop's Day Apart heard from Belva Brown Jordan, the commitment of the Disciples of Christ to raising up young clergy in groups by praying for them. Sending them on retreats with mentors. Being intentional. How is the conference being intentional with us? For we are the church of today AND tomorrow. And sending us to a conference or even scheduling a meeting for us to periodically get together is not going to be what feeds us for sustainable ministry.
I have survived my first two years in ministry because of some awesome, supportive, pastors like Ed Zediers and Karen Urbanski who have embraced who I am as a young clergy. Who sat down and discussed my passions and gifts and growing edges. I'm not sure that my DS's even know those things about me - and maybe its not their job to. But I can say that people like Ed and Karen are the exception, not the norm. We need individuals, and the cabinet to be supportive of young clergy in profound and creative ways, if we truly are going to make it through our time of being considered "young".

The Garden - Mark 14: 32

The dinner was drawing to an end shortly before midnight. The servants were about to come in and clean the table and blow out the candles. Judas had already left to go and betray Jesus. The remaining disciples were wrestling with all that Jesus had told them and the many ways this Seder meal was different from any other they had experienced - Jesus washing their feet, the teachings Jesus had given to them, the broken bread and shared cup with words of a new covenant. Did they realize that something was about to happen to their Lord?

Just before they finished their meal, they had one final concluding ritual, the singing of the Hallel, or praise, which is comprised of a selection of verses from the psalms, specifically psalms 113 to 118, with phrases such as “O give thanks to the Lord for he is good; his steadfast love endures forever.” During the season of lent, we lock away the “Hallelujahs” or singing of praises, and do not bring them out again until Easter morning. When I was in seminary I attended an Episcopalian church. One of the most vivid memories I had was of the first Sunday during Lent, my first year. The children marched into church carrying a large banner, chains, and a trunk. They watched as the pastor unrolled the banner with the word, “Hallelujah” scrawled across it and children’s pictures surrounding it. She then rolled it back up, placed the banner in the trunk and had the children help her wrap all of the chains and various locks around, effectively sealing it shut. She explained that we don’t say, “Hallelujah” during Lent because it is a time to focus on our spiritual journey to the cross during Lent when we express sorrow for the sins that put Jesus on the cross and so we could greet the risen Christ on Easter morning with a great shout after we have prepared our hearts.

I struggled with that and still do today. Aren’t we supposed to find joy in Christ at all times? And yet, that image of the children locking away their “Hallelujah”s really touched me as well. Was this not the last time for a few days that Jesus and the disciples would sing songs of praise to God as well? Did Christ find comfort in singing one final song of praise, one about trusting God even in the face of our enemies, before he lead the disciples into the garden of Gesthme where he cried out in such deep despair? Did the words echo in his mind?

After the Hallel was sung, Jesus lead a few of his disciples through the Kidron Valley to the Garden of Gethsemane on the Mount of Olives, where he knew that he would be arrested. As he walked with his disciples, he altered what he said at dinner, saying that all of the disciples would now betray him. Peter protested, but Jesus knew that he would deny even knowing him at all. How heavy Jesus’ heart must have been that night - not only facing his own painful death, but knowing that those closest to him would betray, desert, and deny him.

Yet, he lead his disciples, those he loved, to this garden, despite knowing what was to come. The gospels tell us that this is a place where Jesus went to pray before. It is a place where he could see the city of Jerusalem and the temple before him. The gospel of Luke says that he went to this garden every day during the week leading up to his arrest. There was simply something about this place.

In 2006 I went to the Holy Lands. In what is believed to be the Garden sits the Church of All Nations. We visited many many churches during our ten day trip, too many for me to even count. But this church was one of the three that I remember. When you walk into the church there is an iron fence up where the alter would, which is around a large stone. We were told that tradition said that this is the very place where Jesus came to pray the night he was arrested. The group I was traveling with were religion students - we knew that this may not be the exact place where Jesus came to pray, but the accuracy wasn’t what we cared about. We just all sat silently thinking about the importance of the garden. The place where Jesus came and cried out to God. The place where his friends betrayed him. Many of us shed silent tears in that holy place. This is the place where the suffering began. This is the place where Christ suffered in order to understand my suffering and to free me from the captivity of my sins, and that was simply overwhelming.

As they entered Gethsemane, Jesus asked his disciples to stay awake, keep watch, and pray. He took three of his disciples, Peter, James, and John, even father into the garden with him. It was not until he was alone with these three close friends that he began to express his anguish. He needed to share what he was feeling with God and his friends.

I identify with Jesus in the garden because it is the place where he suffered with those whom he loved. The place where he cried out to God to take this cup from him, if it be God’s will. Have you had a time in your life, when you have just felt deep anguish? A time when you need to be surrounded by friends as you cry out to God? Friends who do not need to say anything, but simply need to be there as a presence, knowing that they are there for you. Jesus revealed what he was feeling to these confidants. The gospel of Matthew tells us that he said to them, “I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here, and stay awake with me” before venturing a few steps ahead to throw himself before God in prayer.

Some people feel uncomfortable with Jesus in the garden. They don’t like to think of Jesus agitated or afraid. They don’t like to think of him being sorrowful. Some people in their discomfort try to gloss over it - making it into something spiritual, but that is not the message of the gospel writers. They tell us that Jesus was distressed about his impending arrest and torture. Jesus was feeling what most, if not all, human beings would feel if they were faced with the same circumstances. Jesus was showing that he was fully human and fully divine in the garden as he wept. Jesus understands what we go through in times of sorrow, because he has gone through the time of ultimate sorrow, just as Jesus understands the temptations we face, because he faced them at the beginning of his ministry. We have a Lord who can fully understand us, because he has been there.

Other people become upset because Jesus asks God to take this cup from him. They think it shows a lack of courage or strength. But how many of us have been asked to do something by God that we did not want to do? Something that we have wrestled with before finally giving the answer, like Jesus, “not what I want, but what you want.” Jesus resisted as we resist when things are so complicated, so frightening. I don’t believe this showed a lack of faith or courage on Jesus’ part - it showed honesty in the struggle. Jesus was not the first to struggle in this way, and he would not be the last. But Jesus accepted God’s will for him in complete trust.

By now it is well after midnight, between one and three am. Judas arrives in the garden with the religious authorities, to hand Jesus over to them. They came at night in order to avoid any uprising from his followers. Its a powerful image isn’t it? Jesus being betrayed by a kiss. Why would Judas do that? Some scholars believe it was because Judas became disillusioned by Jesus, wanting him to be a military hero. Others believe he was simply greedy. Still others believe he did it to test Jesus, to force him into action. Whatever the reason is, have we not all betrayed Jesus for similar ones? Judas and the rest of the disciples get a lot of flack for betraying Jesus, but I’m glad it is recorded in the gospel. For just as I identify with Jesus crying out to God in sorrow, I equally identify with the disciples betraying him. I have betrayed Jesus. You have betrayed Jesus. We have betrayed our Lord and friend.

Chaos broke out in the garden, just the religious leaders were trying to avoid, when Jesus was arrested. In the gospel of Luke we are told that Peter wielded a sword and cut off the ear of one of the soldiers, which Jesus healed. Jesus healed the one who came to arrest him! Jesus was shackled and the disciples fled, a mark of their betrayal. And when the dust settled, Judas was the only one who remained.

When I was little, one day I came across two pictures of Jesus tucked away in boxes at my grandma’s house when I was helping her clean. One was the picture that hung in my kindergarten Sunday school class, and still does to this day - Jesus holding sheep, symbolizing that he is the good shepherd. The second I had never seen before. It was Jesus praying in the garden of Gethsemane, kneeling on a rock, with a look of anguish I can still clearly see in my mind. What was this image of Jesus trying to communicate? I think this is the image of Jesus as we can most clearly connect with him in our times of suffering.

Jesus taught from the psalms quite often during his ministry, quoting selected verses. He sang from them at the Last Supper with the Hallel and quoted them as he died upon the cross. They were an important part of his life. He surely had them running through his mind as he prayed to God in the garden. Psalms are gifts to us, because they embrace human emotions. I would like to challenge you to find a Psalm over the week and make it your own, just as Jesus did. Let it settle into your heart and your mind. If you aren’t sure what Psalm you would most identify with let me ask you. Are you in a place filled with despair? Look at Psalm 137. Are you in a place where you feel hope? Look at Psalm 138. A place where you want to understand better who God created you to be? Psalm 139. Or perhaps you want to explore the Psalm that Jesus recited part of at the last supper? Look to Psalm 118.

Psalms are a gift to us. Emotions are a gift to, even during the times when they are deeply distressing. May we remember that we worship a Lord who understands everything that we have went through, no matter how painful, because he was in that place in the garden that night. The place where he was abandoned and betrayed. The place where he faced death and felt deep anguish and sorrow. A place where he affirmed that it is okay for us to ask God to take our cups of hardship from us, and where he taught us how to trust God even in the face of the impossible. But Jesus taught us an important lesson too. He taught up that even in the face of sorrow we can pray, “not my will, but thine be done.” Rev Adam Hamilton in preaching on this topic reminded his congregation that sometimes that prayer is going to lead us some very hard and trying places. But he also reminded them, that the answer will never be to die on the cross for the sins of the world. Jesus even in his sorrow, gives us strength and a model for our journey. May we seek to be people who pray each and every day, “not my will, but thine be done.” Amen.

Friday, March 2, 2012

Song for the Young Pastor

I was just told yesterday that my conference extended the age of young clergy to 38. All I can say is that this rate, I will be a young clergy forever. Perhaps because I am in the category, but especially for the flack I have received about being you, I am passionate about young clergy. I have been told by laity and pastors alike that young people do not have a place in ministry, in a variety of different ways. There was a day when young clergy were the norm, but now they are not, so paradoxically, people do not know what to do with us while at the same time begging for more young clergy.
I was thinking about that when this song from Aida played in my car the other day. The song is about assuming political leadership at a young age and a turbulent time, but I feel it is equally apt for young clergy:

Aida - Dance of the Robe
Its knowing what they want of me that scares me
Its knowing having followed, I must lead
Its knowing that each person there compares me
To those in my past who I now succeed

But how can whatever I do for them now, be enough, be enough

Aida, Aida
All we ask of you
Is a lifetime of service, wisdom, courage
To ask more would be selfish, but nothing less will do
Aida, Adia

The song goes on, but I can locate myself so well in this first verse and chorus. My version would go something like:

It knowing that they expect everything and nothing that scares me.
Knowing that they wanted someone who is their age not mine
But I have been disciples now I must lead
Its knowing that each person their compares me to those in their past
Whom I now succeed

So how can whatever I do for them now be enough? Be enough.

Who's At Your Table?

During Lent, the churches I serve are doing a sermon series and accompanying Bible study based off of Adam Hamilton's book 24 Hours that Changed the World, which focus on the last 24 hours of Jesus' life from the meal he shared with his disciples (the last supper) to his death on the cross. At the suggestion of the author I posed the question, if you knew you had one last meal to eat, who would you want at the table with you? I asked the same question at Bible study and I was surprised that people only answered their family.
Don't get me wrong, families are important, but the point Hamilton was trying to make was about spiritual friends, that as we end our life their are people that we have shared our lives with who are deep spiritual companions, and for Jesus, these people were not family.
As I considered this question in my own life, of course I would want my family there. But there are also friends I want around the table. People whom I have been blessed to share my life with. I started to wonder if this was because I was single, but that's not the case at all. I want those individuals around the table with me because I have been blessed by them, and that is not something I need to apologize for. I have been given a gift of wonderful friends, lasting friends. Sometimes we only have friends for seasons, but other times we have been given the treasurer of a lifetime friend, a spiritual companion, and I would be honored to see their faces around my last meal.

Politics

It has been a particularly ugly year in politics. Maybe its because its an election year. Maybe its because tensions are high due to the economic situation around the world. And maybe its just because we have grown to expect politics to be ugly and mean.
I live in a conservative area while I have a bit more liberal of a view point, so I just keep my mouth shut. But one of my biggest fears is that when a Republican candidate is chosen, politics will come to church. Politics has really always been a part of the church, if for no other reason then we are a group of people gathered together, or for the greatest reason, Jesus was radical and died a very political death. However, we've replaced the idea of caring for the community, reaching out to love the world, with agendas, specifically this year seems to be pro-war, anti-gay, and anti-birth control.
As I watch the debates and follow various people on twitter who comment on them, I cannot help but think that the Republican party really needs a moderate candidate to win. Has Obama note quite lived into the promise that people had for him, sure. As it is with any political candidate. However, the debates, and one candidate in particular, has managed to alienate any woman using birth control, any and all races that aren't caucasian, and anyone who isn't straight. Oh and women who don't feel called to be stay at home moms. And people who value education. The list goes on and on. So if you hypothetically start with a 50% vote simply based on party affiliation, but then decrease it by each of the above groups you angered, it really its a good ratio. However, if you are moderate, you can swing votes from the other party as well, while still maintaining those who will vote for you simply because of your party affiliation.
This has been a particularly hard year to watch as well, because it has seemingly been centered on taking rights away. What I think the American public has forgotten, and perhaps even the politicians themselves, is that we have a three pronged government, and the president cannot act alone. Even 2 out of the three branches of government can still be held accountable by the third, and no matter what happens, because of political affiliations and ideologies, congress is not going to start making birth control illegal, though some candidates speak as if it already is, nor are the justices all about stripping people of the rights they have gained through the year. Also, the President does not exist so much in the capacity as a policy maker as the delegate to other countries. That is the role s/he fulfills that the other branches do not. How is someone who says that there is no need to apologize about burning the Koran going to fair as a representative in delegation with other countries?
What we have seemed to have forgotten as well, is as much as some people may want to go back to the good old days of being a "Christian nation" that ship has sailed and forcing people by law to ascribe to the values of one particular faith group, is not going to make them Christian. If anything it makes my job as a pastor so much harder. It is easier to give rights to people then to take them away, and you have to have more justification to take them away then the Bible, which not everyone holds as truth or law. The president, as well as any other government official, has to represent the people in their totality, not a specific sect.
Personally, I think the Republican debates and shady voting tactics have gotten so out of hand that Obama could just sit by and watch and probably still win, despite how some people feel about him. Students of history will also realize that a lot of what has been pinned on him for blame actually isn't his fault at all - a President does not control the economy they inherit it. One of my favorite periods of time is the 1920s - the Jazz Age. A paper I've always desired to write, but have not had time to gather resources would compare the societal values, religious identity and ideology, and political climate of the 1920s into the early 1930s with that of today. History truly does repeat itself and students of history would know that Herbert Hoover could not do any more to control or tailor the Great Depression as Obama could for this Recession. Yet, Hoover was a one term president because he a sorbed the blame and people forgot all of the good he did during his term.

Thursday, March 1, 2012

The Last Supper Mark 14: 12, 22-25

Special days are rarely celebrated without seasons of preparation. We celebrate the birth of a child after nine months of gestation. We celebrate the wedding of dear loved ones and friends, after a period of courtship and engagement. We celebrate anniversaries after we have made it through a year after an event, so we can commemorate it and how we have grown. We celebrate graduations after all of the hard work to took for a period of years. The same is true in the Christian church - celebrations are not divorced from periods of preparation. The two most notable seasons in the church calendar are Advent, which leads up to the celebration of the birth of the Christ child, and Lent, which leads us up to the empty tomb and resurrection of our Lord on Easter Sunday.

Lent is to be a time for us to become prepared spiritually for all that Easter means to us. For some people this looks like giving things up - such as a favorite food or fasting during the 40 days prior to Easter. For others it means adding a different spiritual practice to enhance their devotional life. And for others it may mean giving up a portion of money for the poor in the community. But whatever you choose to do during Lent it is all to the honor and glory of God.

Lent is not alone in being a forty day journey. Many people from the Bible who sought to hear God speak to them or experience God in a new way undertook such spiritual journeys. Elijah spent forty days seeking God on Mount Horeb. Moses was gone for forty days and nights when he received the law of God to give to the Israelites. Noah was on the ark for forty days and forty nights, wondering if he and his family would survive. Jesus spent forty days in the wilderness, praying, at the beginning of his ministry. And so we step into this tradition of setting ourselves apart, doing life a little differently, to prepare for the gift God wants to give us on Easter with the empty cross and tomb.

In addition to preparing ourselves as individuals, we prepare ourselves as the body of Christ, the church. We provide new opportunities to explore our spirituality. Our beautiful curtains have been put away and replaced with burlap, a fabric that represents penitence. And we explore together scriptures that have significance for us corporately as we are on this Lenten journey together. This year we will be focusing on the the last 24 hours of Jesus’ life on earth - the 24 hours that the gospel writers believed changed the world, so much so that they disproportionally focused on it in their writings. At the heart of our gospel message, the message that has been carried down through the ages by the Church, is that Jesus took on our sin, underwent the crucifixion, died, and was buried, all before he was gloriously raised from the dead. Our Lenten preparations, and our focus on these final 24 hours, remind us that the grave could not be conquered, if Jesus did not first die.

How appropriate that we start our Lenten journey together through this series at the table. Or rather at the preparation for a meal. It was time for the celebration to top all celebrations in the Jewish year - Passover, a time when tens of thousands of Jews gathered in Jerusalem to celebrate that God had delivered them from slavery to Egypt. A time when both those who made it to the holy city and those who celebrate in their homes from a distance, were connected by their common heritage and religious story. Jesus and his disciples were amongst the crowds arriving in Jerusalem. In fact, they had arrived a few days early to the accolades of people shouting “Hosanna, Son of David” as Jesus came through the city gates. But Jesus had come to not only celebrate, but to die. Over the next few days his teachings and actions were heightened by his knowledge of what was to come. He became angry at the court of the Gentiles in the temple, a place of prayer for all nations, being converted into the marketplace for buying and selling goods for Passover preparations. He even overturned the money changers table, making the religious leaders angry. He taught about religious reform, challenging the leaders to the point where they plotted against him for his life.

Then on the day of the Passover celebration he sent John and Peter to prepare the Seder meal. They gathered the necessary produce - bitter herbs, wine, salt water, apples, the unleavened bread, the lamb. They followed Jesus instructions and found a man carrying water, an abnormality as it was a job for women, and followed him home to a large home, finding the place where they could all meet together and set the table. At three o’clock they joined the line at the temple to have their lamb slaughtered. The priest would take each lamb and slit its throat, collecting the blood in a bowl to be poured at the base of the alter table. The priest would butcher the lamb and give it to back to the person bringing the offering. They would have cooked the lamb for three to four hours, before everyone gathered for the dinner at seven o’clock to remember the story of how God rescued the Israelites from the oppressive hand of Egypt.

The story goes that Moses had tried time and time again to convince Pharaoh to let Gods people go. Each time, after being struck by some sort of plague, he would agree only to relent later. So God brought forth one last plague, killing the first born of every Egyptian household. The night this was to take place, the Israelites were instructed to sacrifice a lamb to God and put its blood above their door post as a reminder to God to pass over their house leaving it unharmed. The lamb was then cooked and eaten as one final meal before their journey.

Because God did such a great act in rescuing the people of God, Passover was (and still is) to be a time of celebration. A time to remember in order to look forward to the future. But Jesus changed the tone of the evening when he interrupted with the disciples knew, all of the ritual they had experienced since they were children, by taking the unleavened bread and breaking it. Then taking one of the cups of wine and saying it would be a sign of the new covenant. The disciples were probably confused. And to make things even more tense Jesus said that one of them would betray him.

Jesus’ ministry up to this point had been marked by parables that confused the disciples, but now Jesus was giving them something tangible, not simply a teaching. The bread stood for his body, the wine his blood that would be shed. Jesus was giving them one last thing to remember him by.

Even more confusing, Jesus told them that this symbolized the new covenant. As Jewish meant they would have understood covenant, for this Passover meal celebrated the acts of their covenantal God. But Jesus was telling them that the blood of the Lamb that had been sacrificed earlier that day as a sign of the covenant would be replaced by his blood, shed for all people. Later we would understand that these words and this act were part of our life story - the story of human beings brokeness and need to be liberated from sin and death through the new beginning that Jesus offered through his sacrifice.

This meal began the last 24 hours of Jesus life that tell the story of a God of boundless love, whose love could not be confined. In fact, it is a love so profound that Jesus, God’s son, was sent to lay down his life for all humanity. And this is what we now celebrate each and every time we come to the communion table, that God’s love is big enough to deliver us from sin and death. We come together and remember who we are defined through Jesus’ sacrifice. We remember who we were, who we are, and who we will be. And we come together to celebrate it as a community, not alone.

See, when Jesus celebrated this part of the Passover meal he did it with his friends. He ate with the people he was closest too in this earthly life. The people he choose to be with in this moment. If you knew you were going to have one final meal before you died, who would you want to be with you? What faces to do you see around the table? Jesus choose to gather with his spiritual friends, and we need spiritual friends as well. Those deep relationships where we encourage one another in the faith. Those relationships that you cannot possibly have with everyone in a church, but you can have in a small group. This is why small group ministry is so vital, it provides us a place to love one another and enter each others spiritual journeys in a profound way. That is why we are offering two different small groups as a church this Lenten season. Not only because their content is important, but because our lives matter to one another and we need others to walk this faith journey with us. We need a community marked by the communion meal.

No meal is more important to our faith then this last supper of Jesus. For those of you who have lost a loved one, think of their favorite meal. Do you still cook it? What memories do you have of that person when you eat it? My mom likes to cook Macarroni Salad. Every major dinner it seems to be on the table. But I don’t like it. My brothers don’t like it. My dad only eats very little of it. But she still cooks it because it was one of my grandma’s favorite dishes. So it is present, because it reminds my mom of her mom.

What memories do we have of Jesus, as we gather around the communion table? And who are the people who can help you celebrate the importance of Jesus life, this meal, and the last 24 hours of his life? May we seek those people out and be in a community with them this Lenten season and beyond, as we journey to the cross. Amen.