THE WAY OF THE CROSS: The Holy Sepulchre

shelliwilliams Breathing Out Series, STATIONS OF THE CROSS , , , ,

(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

(Just a note…there are two You Tube musical offerings…don’t stop scrolling too soon!)

The Edicule in the main rotunda of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem

Breathe out…

I adore you, O Christ, and I bless you, because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

Breathe in…

Station XII:  Jesus dies on the cross

Scripture: Mark 15: 37-39

Then Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. Now when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said, “Truly this man was God’s son!”

“It is finished.” As Jesus breathed his last, the temple curtain tore in two, revealing a new world in which holiness was no longer separate and hidden from view. Trembling and shaking in the darkness, the earth opened to reveal a glimpse of a future yet to be. And through our grief and our tears, God entered the heartbreak and brokenness of the world and began recreating it. In this moment, God’s future enters our present. And in the most unfathomable act of love, the cross becomes God’s highest act of Creation. Because with it, we and all of Creation are made new. That which is finished is the beginning of life. In this moment, our own eternity is conceived.

Station XII, Jerusalem, Greek Orthodox Chapel of the Crucifixion within the Church of the Holy Sepulchre

Were the whole realm of nature mine, That were an offering far too small; Love so amazing, so divine, demands my soul, my life, my all. (Isaac Watts)

Father, forgive.

Jesus, Through my tears and my grief, I see your love flowing into the world. Enable me to be an instrument of that love that all may know the amazing love I feel. Amen.

“Requiem” by John Rutter, Movement VI, “The Lord is My Shepherd”

Station XIII:  Jesus is taken down from the cross

Scripture: Luke 23: 52-53

This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then he took it down, wrapped it in linen cloth and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid.

It is indeed over. There is a sickening finality to it all. Why did it have to end like this? Why did it have to end at all? We were just beginning to understand. We were just beginning to get what we were supposed to be doing. And now it is over. And then there’s darkness. It’s never been this dark at this time of day. It adds to the pall of our souls. We have to go back now. But to what? After all, deep down we know that he changed us. How can we live now in the world? How can we go back?

Station XIII, Jerusalem, Altar of our Lady of Sorrows (located between the 11th and 12th Stations) within the Church of the Holy Sepulchre

And yet, in this moment of our deepest despair, we remember that we have found love. Life will be different because we have found love. We’ll go back but we are different.

Father, forgive.

Jesus, I do not like endings. I was just getting comfortable. I want to go back–to mangers, and stars, and picnics on the hillside. Your love, though, tells me to go on. Give me strength to walk in that love even in the midst of grief, to walk in the light even in the shadows. Amen.

Station XIV:  Jesus is laid in the tomb

Scripture:  John 19: 40a, 41-42 (John 19: 38-42)

…They took the body of Jesus and wrapped it with the spices in linen cloths…Not there was a garden in the place where there was a new tomb in which no one had ever been laid. And so, because it was the Jewish day of Preparation, and the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there.

We have walked away from graves before and left the remains of a life behind us. But this…this is different. And so we strip our altars and we strip our lives and we try to make room for you. And then we wait. We wait for you to come. We wait for you to rise. We keep vigil and we enter into deep prayer, knowing the day will come. And we wait. We wait for our eternity to be born.

Station XIV, Jerusalem, The Edicule (the traditional Tomb of Jesus) in the main rotunda of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre

We waited for your coming once before, for your birth. But this is different. Now we wait for our own. And you…you are even now busy descending into hell, gathering up all that ever was, even the forsaken, even the rejected, gathering up all that ever was so that it will forever be. And so we wait for the Easter dawn.

Father, forgive. 

Jesus, In the darkness, wee wait for your light. Give us patience and strength. But more than that, give us the vision that you see for the dawn. Empower us to become your Easter people. In the Name of our Redeemer, the One who give us life. Amen.

I am the resurrection, and the life. He that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live. And whosover liveth and believeth in me shall never die. (John 11: 25-26)

There will come a time when you believe everything is finished.  That will be the beginning. (Louis L’Amour)

“Requiem” by John Rutter, Movement VII, “Lux Aeterna” (Eternal Light)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

THE WAY OF THE CROSS: Agnus Dei

shelliwilliams Breathing Out Series, STATIONS OF THE CROSS , , , ,

(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

Entrance to the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem

Breathe out…

I adore you, O Christ, and I bless you, because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

Breathe in…

Station X:  Jesus is stripped of his garments

Scripture: John 19: 23-25

…They took his clothes and divided them into four parts…They also took his tunic; now the tunic was seamless, woven in one piece from the top. So they said to one another, “Let us not tear it, but cast lots for it to see who will get it.” This was to fulfill what the scripture says, “They divided my clothes among themselves, and for my clothing they cast lots.” And that is what the soldiers did.

Station X, Jerusalem, Chapel of the Franks, the exterior entrance to the Holy Sepulchre

As a Jew, Jesus has been taught never to be seen naked. In those terms, this would be the ultimate disgrace. But Jesus’ disgrace is ours. His nakedness is ours. Stripped of his clothes and his dignity, Jesus remains unashamed. We can only ask God’s forgiveness for those times that we stripped others of their dignity and we realize that as the accoutrements of this life are stripped away, we have nowhere to turn but to God.

The other part of this is that Jesus was stripped of his garments, and of everything he knew. He was humiliated but he was also humbled. We, too, are called to humble ourselves before God, to, in essence, strip everything away so that God can make us new.

It is late morning on that day. Jesus has been stripped of all human dignity. And the cross is being prepared. This is the final hour. Father, forgive.

Jesus, Strip me now of all those things that get in the way of my being one with you. May my life become purely what you would have me be. Amen.

Station XI. Jesus is nailed to the cross

Scripture: Mark 15: 22-24a (Mark 15: 22-33)

Then they brought Jesus to the place called Golgotha (which means the place of a skull). And they offered him wine mixed with myrrh; but he did not take it. And they crucified him…

It is here that our regrets sink in. It is here that we want to go back. We would do it differently next time. We would not ask so many questions as to why he was doing what he was doing and to whom. We would just watch and listen and learn from him how to love. We would not fight and grapple with each other over who was in charge, over who was the most important, over who was his favorite. Instead, we would bask in his spirit and his radiance and his love of equality for all. And when asked if we knew who he was, we would not betray him. Rather, we would step forward no matter the cost. But we cannot go back.

Station XI, Jerusalem, Catholic Chapel of the Nailing of the Cross within the Church of the Holy Sepulchre

The sounds are deafening. The clanging rings out over the land and settles into our hearts. A nail of greed. A nail of selfishness. Nails of betrayal and hatred and war. Nails of hunger and poverty. Nails of not accepting and loving each other. Nails of being so sure of one’s beliefs, so sure of one’s understanding of who God is and who God wants us to be, that we miss what God is trying to show us. It is finished. In the Name of Jesus Christ, you are forgiven. Father, forgive.

Jesus, I have many regrets in my life, even though I know that you offer forgiveness for all. Open that path of forgiveness that I may forgive myself and accept what you offer. Amen.

The pilgrims sit on the steps of death.  Undanced, the music ends.  Only the children remember that tomorrow’s stars are not yet out.  (Ann Weems)

“Requiem” by John Rutter, Movement V, “Agnus Dei” (Lamb of God)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

THE WAY OF THE CROSS: Gate of Judgment

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(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

Gate of Judgment, at the entrance of the Church of St. Alexander Nevsky, Jerusalem

Breathe out…

I adore you, O Christ, and I bless you, because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

Breathe in…

Station VII:  Jesus falls the second time

Scripture: Matthew 27: 27-31

Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the governor’s headquarters, and they gathered the whole cohort around him. They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, and after twisting some thorns into a crown, they put it on his head. They put a reed in his right hand and knelt before him and mocked him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” They spat on him, and took the reed and struck him on the head. After mocking him, they stripped him of the robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him away to crucify him.

Here, the procession arrives at the Gate of Judgment, the place where the authorities would pronounce the final judgment on those convicted of crimes. This was the last point of hope. This was the place where many sentences were converted or lessened. Jesus knew that this would not be the case for him. Barrabbas has already been pardoned. There was no hope.

Station VII, Jerusalem, Franciscan Chapel at the intersection of Via Dolorosa and Souq Khan Er-Zeit

This time Jesus does not fall under the weight of his cross but, rather, the weight of the world. It is just too much to bear. And he falls. He falls at the gate. There is no going back. There is only going forward. The only thing left for the world is hope. Father, forgive.

Jesus, when all hope is lost, remind me to look to you, the hope for all things yet to be. Amen.

Station VIII:  Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem

Scripture: Luke 23: 27-31

A great number of the people followed him, and among them were women who were beating their breasts and wailing for him. But Jesus turned to them and said, “Daughters of Jerusalem, do not weep for me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. For the days are surely coming when they will say, “Blessed are the barren, and the wombs that never bore, and the breasts that never nursed. Then they will begin to say to the mountains, “Fall on us,” and to the hills, “Cover us.” For if they do this when the wood is green what will happen when it is dry.

The women were convinced of Christ’s holiness. And this holy man was bleeding, covered in sweat and dirt, and near death. But he was still holy. Christ tells them not to weep for him, but for themselves, for their children, and for the world. If we weep, we weep for the world. Weeping is itself a form of prayer for the world around us.

Station VIII, Jerusalem, Wall of a Greek Orthodox monastery

Just outside the gates of the city, Jesus opens himself to the world. He knows that the world will hurt; he knows that the world will suffer; he knows that the world pits brother against brother, sister against sister, and poverty against greed. He knows that the world will weep. In our humanity, we weep, and in our tears, we drown, and in our work and in our life and in our faith, we find the hope for a world yet to be. Father, forgive.

Jesus, I weep–for my own self, for my church, for the world. May my tears become drops of nourishment and waters of life as I claim our part in bringing Creation into full being in your name. Amen.

Station IX:  Jesus falls the third time

Scripture:  Matthew 27: 27-31

Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the governor’s headquarters, and they gathered the whole cohort around him. They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, and after twisting some thorns into a crown, they put it on his head. They put a reed in his right hand and knelt before him and mocked him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” They spat on him, and took the reed and struck him on the head. After mocking him, they stripped him of the robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him away to crucify him.

For us, we sense that this is a grand procession, but, in all truth, this was a common occurrence in that time: the poor criminal, already rejected by society, being dragged to a death that he or she must deserve. And this was the eve of Passover–a busy time to say the least. After all, there were errands to be done and food to be prepared and houses to clean. So think of all the passersby, scurrying through their lives, many complaining about the clogged roads because of the procession. Many would have just passed by on the other side of the road, not wanting to touch or be touched by hopelessness and despair and even death.

Station IX, Jerusalem, Near the Coptic Orthodox Patriarchate

We, too, fall whenever we pass by on the other side. We miss the grace that God offers in the touch of the unexpected. We miss the opportunity to be who God calls us to be. Father, forgive. 

Jesus, I often pass by on the other side of your grace. I often close my life to the opportunities that you reveal. May my life become one of compassion for other in your Name. Amen.

The only road to Easter morning is through the unrelenting shadows of that Friday. Only then will the alleluias be sung;  only then will the dancing begin. (Ann Weems)

“Requiem” by John Rutter, Movement IV, “Sanctus” (Holy, Holy, Holy)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

THE WAY OF THE CROSS: The Path Through the City

shelliwilliams Breathing Out Series, STATIONS OF THE CROSS , , , ,

(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

Breathe out…

I adore you, O Christ, and I bless you, because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

Breathe in…

Station IV:  Jesus meets his mother

Scripture: Luke 1: 35, 42b (Luke 1: 35-55)

The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God.”…Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.

She loved her son…loved him with the deepest love that any mother would. After all, this was the child that she carried in her womb, birthed into the world in the rough hues of that cold desert night shielded only by a stable, or a cave, or a grotto, or something of the like. This was the child that she nurtured and saw grow into a successful young man. And now here he is…carrying the cross like a common criminal…bleeding and exhausted…but she is held back from approaching him. What she is called to do is atrocious. She must give him up.

But what about God? This is God’s child–the one that God created and love and with perfect love gave him to the world as a part of Godself. And this perfect love, this part of God, is being rejected by those to whom he was given.

Station IV, Jerusalem, Near the Armenian Catholic Church of Our Lady of the Spasm

But even in this we are called to forgiveness, the forgiveness that God showed us through the deepest love of a mother’s heart. Father, forgive.

Jesus, may your love, and that of your mother, be the spark of my zeal in the cause of spreading justice and peace through the human family. In the name of the One who brings all unity. Amen.

Station V:  Jesus is helped by Simon the Cyrene to carry his cross

Scripture: Mark 15: 16, 21-22 (Mark 15:16-22)

Then the soldiers led him into the courtyard of the palace (that is, the governor’s headquarters); and they called together the whole cohort…Then they led him out to crucify him. They compelled a passerby, who was coming in from the country, to carry the cross; it was Simon of Cyrene, the father of Alexander and Rufus. They then brought Jesus to the place called Golgotha (which means the place of the skull).

We really know very little about Simon–is he black, brown, white, olive-skinned? Does it matter? He was from Libya–a foreigner to the city of Jerusalem, an immigrant. Anonymously plucked out of the crowd to help a bleeding dying man, he stooped and hoisted the cross that Jesus was carrying to his own shoulder. Even at this late hour, God has orchestrated a Divine reversal in what the world expected.

Station V, Jerusalem, Franciscan Chapel of Simon of Cyrene

We are asked to contemplate how we are being asked to help Jesus carry the cross. This means letting go, breathing out our fears, our prejudices, and our justifications that hold us back from connecting with others, from completing the circle of God’s creation that is love. Father, forgive.

Jesus, may I be the one that carries your cross, that steps forward into the difficult venues of your love. In the name of the One who shows me what it means to be your Disciple. Amen.

Station VI:  Veronica wipes the face of Jesus

Scripture:  John 13: 4-5, 8b (John 13: 3-17)

Jesus…got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him…Unless I wash you…you have no share with me.

Tradition often identifies Veronica as the woman who Jesus had healed of a blood disorder (Luke 8: 43-48) who comes to be with him on the day of his crucifixion. This was a woman so moved by the compassion that she had been shown that she knows no other way to respond except with that same compassion. As she steps toward Jesus, she wipes the sweat and blood from his face and the imprint, the image of Jesus, is supposedly left on the cloth. In her compassion, Veronica was able to look through death and despair to the real image of Christ and, in doing so, found it in herself.

The story is not found anywhere in canonical Scripture. Tradition holds that this story probably originated in non-canonical texts, including the Acts of Pilate. The derivation of her name is from the words Vera (Latin, “true”) and Icon (Greek, “image”). Regardless of where the story originated, being human, being made in the true image of God, means that we are called to show compassion to others, who are also the “image of God”.

Station VI, Jerusalem, Greek Catholic Church of St. Veronica

Being human means being made in the image of God. Being human is what we are called to be. Father, forgive. 

Jesus, remind me again and again what it means to be human, what it means to be made in your image, that my life might be an imprint of your image for the world to see. Amen.

Christianity is an “even though” way of being in the world. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. (Sarah Lund)

“Requiem” by John Rutter, Movement III, “Pie Jesu” (Merciful Jesus)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

THE WAY OF THE CROSS: Just Within the Gates

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(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

As I mentioned a few days ago, our Holy Week walk will use the Via Dolorosa, the Stations of the Cross.  The Stations of the Cross generally refers to a devotion that originated in the 4th century when pilgrims flocked to the Holy Land from all parts of the world to visit the land of Jesus.  When they got there, the most popular place visited was the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, which had been built by the Emperor Constantine in 335 A.D. over what was believed to be the tomb of Jesus.  Over the years, the route of pilgrim processions—beginning at the ruins of the Fortress Antonia and ending at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre (the tomb)—was accepted as the way that Jesus had walked to his death.  It became known as the “Via Dolorosa”, the “Sorrowful Way”, or “Way of the Cross”.

The Via Dolorosa marks the path Jesus traveled as he carried the cross from the place he was sentenced to the place of his resurrection.  Through the years, “stations” developed as early pilgrims honored places where events were likely to have taken place.  Many of these stations are only a guess since the Jerusalem of Jesus’ day was almost completely destroyed by the Roman armies in 70 AD.  But since the majority of Christians throughout the world could not journey to Jerusalem to walk the Via Dolorosa, the Stations became a spiritual tool that would give them an opportunity for a “mini-pilgrimage”.  It became a way for every Christian to enter that Holy Walk, the “Way of the Cross”, the way that takes us through the sorrows and despair of Holy Week that we, too, might emerge victorious in the glory of the Resurrection.

Five of the stations are non-canonical (meaning they’re actually not in the Bible as we know it) but they are gleaned from tradition, spiritual reflection, and other sources.  This includes stations 3, 7, and 9 (Jesus falling), 4 (Jesus meeting his mother), and 6 (Veronica wiping the face of Jesus).  I’ve added Scripture passages for your reading and reflection.

So, walk this way.  It may not be easy or pleasant or calming to the soul.  But by walking the Way of Sorrows, by entering the walk that Christ walked, one will truly encounter the incredible Feast of Joy.  Begin your walk with the prayer below and then, as you walk, stop and gaze upon each station.  Say the prayer of contemplation.  And look…Think about what it means.  Place yourself in its center.  And when you are ready, move on…The Path is yours to walk.  And remember to breathe out and breathe in…

I adore you, O Christ, and I bless you, because by your holy cross, you have redeemed the world.

Station I:  Jesus is condemned

Scripture: Luke 23: 13-14, 21b, 24 (Luke 23: 1-24)

Pilate then called together the chief priests, the leaders, and the people, and he said to them, “You brought me this man as one who was perverting the people; and here I have examined him in your presence and have not found this man guilty of any of your charges against him.”…”Crucify, crucify him!”…So Pilate gave his verdict that their demand should be granted.

Jesus is the victim of the consummate power struggle, conflicting purposes that are exacerbated by the personalities and fears of those involved.  The person whose life is at stake seems to be ignored.  And justice fails.  The truth is, Jesus stands for all those things that are different from what we know.  Jesus says those things that the world does not want to hear.  He speaks against the status quo.  He speaks for those rejected and cast aside by acceptable society.  Jesus creates chaos in the midst of our orderly lives.  He must be silenced.

Oh, we stand in awe of these convictions.  We are amazed that someone has the courage to look into the face of death and, without fear, say nothing.  And yet many of us are silenced by our fears and our anxieties and our attempts to maintain our carefully preserved lives.  

Station I, Jerusalem, Site of the Antonia Fortress (now an Elem. School)

And now he stands…in silence.  “And darkness covered the face of the deep.” (Gen. 1:2a).  Father, forgive.

Jesus, true and silent victim, let the power of your life, the beauty of your silence, be my courage.  In the name of the One who redeems me.  Amen.

Station II:  Jesus takes up his cross

Scripture: John 19: 16-17

Then he handed him over to them to be crucified.  So they took Jesus; and carrying the cross by himself, he went out to what is called The Place of the Skull, which in Hebrew is called Golgotha.

And Jesus, carrying his own cross, starts his “Way of the Cross”.  Weak and alone, but with great dignity, Jesus emerges from the fortress.  And yet…there was so much that he still had to accomplish. It was almost too great to bear.

This wooden cross was a tree—a tree that God created, that God nurtured, that God showered with the joy of life—a tree that would become the instrument of Christ’s death.  We are asked, then, to bear the cross, to bear the instrument of death.  We are asked to bear life.

Station II, Jerusalem, Chapel of Flagellation / Chapel of Condemnation and Imposition of the Cross

Sadhu Sundar Singh says that “if we do not bear the cross of the Master, we will have to bear the cross of the world, with all of its earthly goods.”  Which cross is yours to bear?  Father, forgive.

Jesus, may your willingness to carry your cross be my strength in losing my life that I may find it. In the name of the One who bears all things.  Amen.

Station III:  Jesus falls the first time

Scripture:  Matthew 27: 27-31

Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus into the governor’s headquarters, and they gathered the whole cohort around him.  They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, and after twisting some thorns into a crown, they put it on his head.  They put a reed in his right hand and knelt before him and mocked him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!”  They spat on him, and took the reed and struck him on the head.  After mocking him, they stripped him of the robe and put his own clothes on him.  Then they led him away to crucify him.

Jesus was exhausted and trembling under the weight of the cross-beam.  He could not take it any longer and fell to the ground, face down in the dust and dirt of the well-traveled path.  Someone jerked him up from his moment’s rest and prodded him on.  And the world stands and watches, seemingly unmoved by the visceral treatment of one who was once so renowned.  “Hail, King of the Jews”, now fallen, now face down in the dust and dirt of the well-traveled path.

Station III, Jerusalem, Small chapel near the Armenian Catholic Patriarchate

Where are we?  Do we lay there in the pathway of forgotten footprints?  Do we stand by the sidelines too afraid to move?  We must get up and get going.  It is time to follow.  Father, forgive. 

Jesus, may your courage be my stamina for getting up again and again, realizing that only the weak fall once. In the name of the One who raises me up on eagle’s wings.  Amen.

At the center of the Christian faith is the history of Christ’s passion.  At the center of this passion is the experience of God endured by the godforsaken, God-cursed Christ.  Is this the end of all human and religious hope?  Or is it the beginning of the true hope, which has been born again and can no longer be shaken?  For me it is the beginning of true hope, because it is the beginning of a life which has death behind it and for which hell is no longer to be feared…Beneath the cross of Christ hope is born again out of the depths.  (Jurgen Moltmann)

“Requiem” by John Rutter, Movement II, “Out of the Deep”

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

An Act of Resistance

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(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

Scripture Text: Matthew 21: 1-11 (Liturgy of the Palms A)

When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, 2saying to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. 3If anyone says anything to you, just say this, ‘The Lord needs them.’ And he will send them immediately.” 4This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying, 5“Tell the daughter of Zion, Look, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.” 6The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; 7they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. 8A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. 9The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” 10When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” 11The crowds were saying, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”

So, when I was growing up in the church, Palm Sunday was exciting.  I looked forward to it.  It was fun to wave the palm branches and sing the familiar hymns and re-enact the joyous parade that brought Jesus into the city and honors him as our King.  But, to be honest, we probably read a little bit more into this parade than is there.  I used to think that this was a big parade, maybe the whole town of Jerusalem, welcoming Jesus into their midst.  I used to think that Jesus entered the main gate of Jerusalem flanked by loving followers to a great celebration.  But then it didn’t make much sense as to why it went so badly so fast.  The truth is, Jesus was not “it” in Jerusalem.  Jesus was heading what was then a small fledgling movement on the outskirts of established religion and recognized society. 

Palm Sunday Road, Mt. Olivet

He was coming down a narrow road that winds down Mt. Olivet and was then entering through the eastern gate of Jerusalem, the “back door” of the city, for all practical purposes.  The Western gate was the main gate.  It was the one where all the military pomp and circumstance entered, a gate fit for royalty.  Hmmm!  It seems that Jesus makes a habit of coming in the back door—into forgotten grottos and wilderness baptisms and ministries that begin around a lake rather than a bustling Holy City.  So, this seems only fitting.  Maybe that’s the point.  God doesn’t always enter in the way we expect, doesn’t always show up when it fits the best into our schedule or our circumstances.  Instead, God slips in through the back door of our perfectly-planned lives when we sometimes barely notice and makes a home with us.

In their book The Last Week, Marcus Borg and Dominic Crossan posited a sort of “two parade” theory that actually makes a great deal of sense.  What they propose was that since it WAS Passover, the holiest time in the city, there indeed would have been great celebration and so it makes sense that the Roman government would take advantage of that.  The book begins by saying, “Two processions entered Jerusalem on a spring day in the year 30. . . One a peasant procession, the other an imperial procession. From the east, Jesus rode a donkey down the Mount of Olives, cheered by his followers. On the opposite side of the city, from the west, Pontius Pilate, entered Jerusalem at the head of a column of imperial cavalry and soldiers.  Jesus’ procession proclaimed the kingdom of God; Pilate’s proclaimed the power of empire.”

The point was that the small (and it was small, particularly when you look at the size of what is now known as the “Palm Sunday Road” on Mt. Olivet) procession of Jesus and his band of followers was not the main event of the day.  It was, in essence, a parody of the other parade—a stubborn donkey and a small colt in place of grand steeds adorned with rich fabrics and jewels, palm branches laid on the ground in place of fine and expensive carpets, cloaks instead of royal accoutrements, and an honoree that had preached nothing that the grand processional stood for.  It was also an act of resistance.  It was the way (and a dangerous one at that) to say, “no…our king is this Messiah, our Way is the Way of Love.”  This King will bring peace rather than war, will bring mercy rather than rules and punishment, will bring life rather than death.  This King is the way of resistance to the empire, to the powers of the world.  It is the way of resistance to a government that doesn’t serve everyone equally, a regime that is more interest in power and riches than service.

So, the onlookers stay around for just a little while.  And then the back-door parade fizzles.  As the road goes by the Garden of Gethsemane and down toward Bethany and the outer walls of Jerusalem, many leave and go back to their lives.  Maybe they had something to do; maybe they didn’t want to contend with all the holiday traffic in downtown Jerusalem; or maybe they were afraid of what might happen. So, Jesus enters the gate of the city almost alone, save for a few of the disciples.

Where are we in this moment?  Jerusalem is here.  As followers, we know that the road is not easy.  It will wind through this week with the shouts of “Crucify him” becoming louder and louder.  We will experience pain and grief and even betrayal.  The road is steep and uneven.  And the shouting stones and clanging iron against wood will be deafening.  But this is the way—the way to peace, the way to knowing God, the way Home.  This is our road; this is our Way; this is the procession to life.  The way to the Cross, through the wilderness of this week is our Way to Life.

The truth is that all the breathing out and the breathing in that we have done to get us here was not for our health; it was to prepare us for this.  And now we have to decide.  Are we the ones running away or are we following Jesus?  The ahead will be hard and painful.  More than that, it will be dangerous.  We know that.  But it is the way to life.  The gate is just up ahead. We can no longer sit on the steps outside the gate.  Jerusalem awaits. And Jesus has begun his walk to the Cross.  Breathe out…then breathe in.

Eastern Gate, Jerusalem (Sealed in 1541 by Ottoman Sultan Suleimann)

Just outside Jerusalem we came to a gate called Truth.  We called to the gatekeeper to let us in.  “The latch is not on,” he replied.  “Anyone who will can enter.”  We went closer, but seeing how great and how heavy was the gate we looked for a way around.  There must be a way around. (Ann Weems, Kneeling in Jerusalem)

“Requiem” by John Rutter, Movement I, “Requiem Aeternam”

Eternal Rest, Grant Them O Lord

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Sanctuary

shelliwilliams Breathing Out Series , , , ,

(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

Scripture Text: Luke 19: 41-44

41As he came near and saw the city, he wept over it, 42saying, “If you, even you, had only recognized on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes. 43Indeed, the days will come upon you, when your enemies will set up ramparts around you and surround you, and hem you in on every side. 44They will crush you to the ground, you and your children within you, and they will not leave within you one stone upon another; because you did not recognize the time of your visitation from God.”

I’ve come to this moment and this place. I understood what I was called to do.  It was what was needed. Everyone was so locked in, often misinformed, often following a way that was not good for them, a way that was pulling them away from God, away from each other.  Oh, they meant well.  They were trying to follow the laws, trying to believe in the way they had been taught, trying so hard to make the way for themselves. But what they missed was the God who was with them, who had always been with them.  What they missed was the God of Love. I so prayed to show them the God of Love.

I was called to show them a new way, a way that would allow them to see the beauty and the grace and the mercy that God had in store for them, a way that would show how much God loves them, how much God desires for them. There were times when I felt it happening. There were those times when the disciples followed me, timidly leaving their lives behind and hesitantly following in this new way. There was that afternoon on the side of the mountain when the excitement was palpable.  There were so many that day that seemed ready to follow a new path. There were so many that understood. There they were, talking and eating together and being the people of God.

There were times I did not expect that were so wonderful, so life-giving. There was the one that was healed that came back, that understood the mercy and the grace. There was the woman at the well that taught me that my mission was bigger that even I had thought, that God was calling me to the world.  I pray that her voice will always be heard. And there was Lazarus.  My friend, my confidante, the one who always supported me.  When he died, I grieved.  And when he was raised, it was such a celebration.  His resurrection was what I prayed everyone would understand.  Thank you, God, for that gift, for the rising and the life.

I hope I did everything I could. I pray that my time here was what was needed, that somehow the fruitfulness will sprout even after I am gone, that this new Way will be imprinted on your people and in your world. I pray that part of me, part of what I did, part of what I taught, and part of how much I loved them will remain. I pray that this will not all be for naught. I pray that they will continue the pathway I have tried to show them.

But, always, in the shadows, there seemed to be something pulling everyone away, convincing everyone that they had to put themselves first, that they had to fear others, that they had to preserve their way of life, that somehow the earthly kings were above You or that in some perversion of your Word, there was belief that you somehow had sanctioned what is being done in the world, that you had somehow blessed the warring and the madness and the hunger and the exclusion. I weep because they have forgotten who they are.  They have forgotten that they are your children, that they are made in your image, a reflection of your being and your Presence in the world. 

And so, in this moment before I enter the city, I weep.  I weep for you my children.  I weep that I will not have more time, that what I tried to impart to you may not have taken hold.  I weep at the thought that when I am gone, you will simply turn back to your own ways. I weep that God’s love and mercy and grace have eluded you. I weep for you, Jerusalem, that you might have become so inward-looking that you have missed the gracious dance that the Father offers each of you.

Dear Father, I weep these tears this day.  Thank you for the gift of these tears.  Thank you for not taking them away just yet because they are your tears.  This is your lament.  This is your city, your holiest of cities, the place of your presence, that has seemed to push away what you offer, that has seemed to push away your love.

I do not weep for me.  I know that I have done your work.  I know that you have called me to this time—just this time.  I know that there will be other children of yours that will carry your love, that will carry your message to the world.  I pray for their strength and their fortitude.  I pray that they will know how to love you like I do.  I pray that this Way of Christ will be theirs.

Go with me, dear Father.  Carry me into what is to come.  I am ready.  I do this for you.  I do this for your children.  I do this for your kingdom.  I pray for all that is to come.  I pray for the generations of your children that will follow in my name.  I pray that what I tried to do, what I hoped to do, what I prayed that I would do, was done.  Forgive them Lord.  Be with them Lord.  Let them know your love.  Let them be your sanctuary. Let them breathe out the ways of the world and breathe in all that You are.

1Hear my prayer, O Lord; give ear to my supplications in your faithfulness; answer me in your righteousness. 2Do not enter into judgment with your servant, for no one living is righteous before you. 3For the enemy has pursued me, crushing my life to the ground, making me sit in darkness like those long dead. 4Therefore my spirit faints within me; my heart within me is appalled. 5I remember the days of old, I think about all your deeds, I meditate on the works of your hands. 6I stretch out my hands to you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land. (Psalm 143)

Let your religion be less of a theory and more of a love affair. (G. K. Chesterton)

      Grace and Peace,

      Shelli