SEASONS

Were You There in the Garden of Gethsemane?

shelliwilliams Gethsemane, Holy Week, Judas, LENT, Surrender
The Garden of Gethsemane
February, 2010

Today’s Scripture Passage: Mark 14: 26-50

To read today’s portion of the account of the Passion, click on the below link:
http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=200418057

Those of us who know this story both love and fear this garden.  We dream about this garden.  We sing about this garden.  This is the garden of Jesus, this garden which is named “olive press”, an ordinary name for an ordinary place where the ordinary pours into the Divine, where Jesus’ Passion comes to be.  I’ve had the opportunity to visit this place.  It was one of the most profoundly moving places that I have been.  It is a holy space, a place that allows you to see beyond yourself, a space to breathe in the Divine.  Standing among the centuries-old olive trees, the past and the present spill together.  No longer is the garden an historic place; it is a place of the Divine, a place where the Divine begins to spill into the worst of what we do.

Traditional “Upper Room”
February, 2010

Jesus and the disciples had spent the evening together–talking and laughing and sharing in the community and the friendships that they had built.  And then Jesus had raised the bread and broken it and raised the cup and poured it and had said something about them being his body and his blood, his very essence.  But they were too busy to understand.  They loved Jesus.  He was their friend, their mentor, their confidante.  But they probably didn’t really understand what was about to happen.  And so they left the hot, stuffy second-floor room and, at Jesus’ suggestion, took a walk in the cool, arid night air.  They were probably thinking how much more comfortable this was than the dampness that they would have felt in Galilee.  They climbed down the outside stairs and headed toward the city gates.  And once outside the gates, they followed the dark path down Mt. Zion through the Kidron Valley and started up the Mount of Olives.  They crossed over the Palm Sunday Road where they had entered the city just a few short days ago.  If one could peer through the darkness, there were still palm leaves strewn about.  It really was just a short twenty minute walk.  And they came to the garden, the place of the Divine.  Isn’t it interesting that God always returns to a garden, returns to a place of wilderness, returns to a place of new life?  Isn’t it interesting that Creation stories begin in a garden and then spawn new life that no one imagined before?

The Garden of Gethsemane
February, 2010

As they entered the garden, the disciples collapsed under the olive trees, heavy with food and wine and good company.  And Jesus walked away, feeling compelled to pray alone.  He was not nervous about what was to happen.  He was ready.  He prayed that God would take the cup.  I don’t think it was a plea to end what was to come, but a point of resolve, a place of surrender.  “God, take this cup, it is yours.  It was always yours.  I have done what you asked me to do.”  Now is the time.

He returned to find the disciples sleeping.  Really?  Sleeping?  Tonight?  Are you kidding me?  Maybe that is the biggest challenge of discipleship–just staying awake, just staying attentive to God’s Presence and God’s Call.  But don’t you think Jesus wished that they were more ready, more ready to take on what they would be called to do?  He looked at the quiet of his friends, so peaceful, so drunk, so oblivious to what was about to transpire, and he knew that their lives would not be easy.  He knew that they would be called to be something that they were not ready to be. The truth is, God doesn’t create us ready; God creates us open to be.

But after a couple of returns, Jesus had had enough.  “Get up already!” he yelled.  Are you kidding me?  And then all of a sudden, everything changed.  Soldiers burst into the peacefulness brandishing newly-sharpened swords.  And with them was Judas.  Jesus was not surprised but the tears still came into his eyes.  Judas was his friend, his confidante, probably one of the smartest followers he had.  That is why he had given him the common purse.  Judas had so much potential.  But Judas was too smart for his own good.  He had it all figured out.  He thought he could manipulate the powers that be.  Now, the non-canonical Gospel of Judas would depict Judas’ act as a pre-conceived (and pre-ordained) plan.  I’m not sure about that.  I think Judas just screwed up.  I think he just resembled so many of us who fight like everything to control our lives.  I think he just thought that he knew better.  I think he possibly even thought that Jesus would pull it all out in the end and be depicted as nothing less than a great hero.  So Judas kissed him…the kiss heard round the world…the kiss that changed everything.

But, truth be known, it was too much for the sleeping friends.  And so they fled.  And Jesus, alone, already surrendering the cup, was ready.  There was no turning back.  The gates of Jerusalem had closed.

So, on this Tuesday of Holy Week, how would you answer? Were you there in the Garden?  Were you walking with your Lord or were you asleep?  And when it was all said and done, did you flee?  Or were you the one that betrayed our Lord with but a kiss?  Where were you?  Were you there in the Garden of Gethsemane?  And with this, what are you being called to do?  How are you being called to live?

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Were You There As Jesus Prepared to Die?

shelliwilliams Anointing, Betrayal, Death, Holy Week, Last Supper, LENT, Passion

Today’s Scripture Passage:  Mark 14: 1-25

To read today’s portion of the account of the Passion, click on the below link:
http://bible.oremus.org/?ql=200334750

Galilee is behind us.  The parade is long over.  There are no stars overhead to light our way.  The Passion has begun.  It’s an odd term, from the Latin passionem, or suffering.  It looks similar to the word passive (Latin, passiuus), which definitely doesn’t make sense to us.  After all, we’re talking about Jesus!  But the words are indeed related.  The Passion, this time of suffering and being “handed over”, is a movement from planned and intentional action to no longer being in control.  All of Jesus’ actions are accomplished.  It is finished.  It is a time of waiting–waiting for others’ response, waiting for our response.  We are called to enter The Passion, to enter this handing over.

“Christ in the House of Simon”
Dieric Bouts, 1440’s
Staatlisch Museen, Berlin

And, so, in the first part of The Passion reading, Jesus prepares for what is to come.  First, he is anointed.  I really like the version that the Gospel writer known as John tells, but this is Mark’s year, so we’ll go with it.  You see, John names her.  John brings Mary into the story, into a relationship with Jesus.  Mary, or whoever this woman is, takes the expensive perfume and pours it onto Jesus.  Takes…and pours.  Where have we heard that before?  It is sacramental.  This simple act of holy extravagance brings her into the story, into life.  She is forever remembered not because she wasted the oil but because she was part of preparing Jesus to die.  With extravagant and self-giving love, she entered The Passion.  She poured herself out and handed herself over.  I wish I could be like that. I wish I could sit at the feet of Jesus and, without any regard to what is “appropriate” or “expected”, pour everything out. I wish I didn’t hold myself back.  I wish I could pour myself out with holy and even wasteful extravagance.

As the time for the Passover meal nears, the disciples begin to prepare and plan for the meal.  It would be Jesus’ last.  The disciples didn’t seem to know it at the time but this would be the final time that they were all together.  Don’t you wander what the conversation was that night?  We’d like to imagine that it was rich and deep and profound, that it was prayerful and contemplative, theological and steeped with rabbinical thought, that it was something they would remember.  But last words are seldom like that.  They are usually profoundly quotidian.  Rather than resembling the life that we envision, they usually resemble the life that is.  That’s probably what happened that night.  There were side conversations about family and acquaintances.  There were comments about the weather and whether it might have been unseasonably hot or unseasonably cold that evening.  And there were some speculations about the political environment and the tensions that hung in the air even that night.  They did not solve the problems of the world.  They just ate and drank and sat together. 

“The Last Supper of Christ”
Pieter Jansz.Pourbus, c. 1562-5

And then Jesus takes the bread and pours the wine.  Takes…and pours.  It is sacramental.  Yet another act of holy extravagance that brings us all into the story, into life.  But the story’s ending is far from ordinary.  And to be part of it, we have to take and pour…We have to become the body and become the blood.  We have to take the cup from Jesus, this cup that has been poured out for us.

But behind the scenes, there is darkness and betrayal swirling in our midst.  We don’t know what to do with this.  It is one of us.  It is one whom Jesus loves. It is one who has sat here this night and shared our meal and shared our lives.  Oh, please, do not let it be me.  As I dip this bread, let me become who I’m supposed to be.  Do not let it be me.

The truth is, we cannot be there with Jesus as he prepares to die unless we, too, are preparing for our own.  We cannot talk of this handing over unless we can let go of that to which we hold.  And we cannot take the bread and the wine unless we make room for it in our lives.  Were you there?  Were you there as love was poured out?  Were you there as Jesus took and poured?  Were you there in the betrayal?  It is too late to go back.  It is too late to change anything.  The Kingdom of God waits for you up ahead.  But you have to let go.  You have to die to self.  No longer can we just talk about something else and hope that death will go away.  We have to die to live.

So, on this Monday of Holy Week, how would you answer?  Were you there as Jesus prepared to die?  What part in The Passion did you play?  Are you preparing to die?  For that is the way that you will live.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Were You There at the Parade?

shelliwilliams Holy Week, LENT, Palm Sunday, Presence
Palm Sunday Road, Jerusalem
February, 2010

Today’s Scripture Passage:  Mark 11: 1-11
When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples and said to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied the re a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. If anyone says to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.’” They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, some of the bystanders said to them, “What are you doing, untying the colt?” They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it. Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting, “Hosanna!  Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.

Everyone loves this story.  We all like a parade!  When I was growing up, I used to love parades.  I couldn’t wait for the week-end of the Katy Fat Stock Show and Rodeo and the parade on that Saturday.  And I would spend the whole three hours watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, the parade that would bring the official start of Christmas.  Parades are exciting!  They are beginnings.  They usher in something.

We all know of this parade.  We like the idea of waving our palm branches and celebrating the great and glorious King.  I think I used to envision this parade with the main gates of the city open and Jesus parading down the main street of Jerusalem.  In my mind, everyone stopped to watch.  It was a glorious site.  But if you think about it a little bit (don’t you hate it when people do that?), Jesus supposedly rode this poor little colt (or a donkey if you talk to the writer Matthew) straight down the Palm Sunday Road, straight down from the Mount of Olives, through the Garden of Gethsemane, towards what is essentially the back gate of the temple.   This little motley parade probably did not go down Herodian Street and probably didn’t even draw that big a crowd.  These were the people that had heard (or at least heard OF) Jesus.  These were the ones who had already begun to follow him.  Marcus Borg and Dominic Crossan present the idea that there was possibly a whole other parade coming into the main gate and processing down Main Street, a parade with rulers and grand steeds and lots of royal acclaim.  And on the other side of the city, coming into the back gates, was this small processional of underdressed commoners, a small underdeveloped equine, and a diverse band carrying palm branches.

And, it appears, this half-engaged crowd didn’t even really stay around.  By the time Jesus got to the temple, he looked around.  It was late and they were gone and so he and the disciples went out to Bethany (Hebrew, “House of Figs”).  The other parade probably ended with an all-night party.  After all, the city was bustling.  The Passover was coming.  But Jesus and the twelve, alone, went to the house of Mary and Martha.

So, where are we?  Which parade are we watching?  Are we watching the Herodian Processional, with its grand floats and amazing giant balloons, with its bands and its celebrity master?  Or are we in this small minority watching a lowly donkey carry this man Jesus?  And at the end, do we lay our palm branch down and go back to our business?  Or do we follow Jesus to Bethany?

On this Palm / Passion Sunday, where are you?  Were you there at the parade?  Were you there when it was over?  Where are you?

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

It is Time to Go to Jerusalem…

shelliwilliams Holy Week, Jerusalem, Jesus Christ, LENT

It is time.  It is time to go to Jerusalem…

There’s a part of me that wants to go back, wants to stay in Galilee where it is green and lush and safe.  But now is the time.  The tide has turned and I have to go.  It’s hard because there is, oh, so much more to do.  It’s hard because I don’t think they’re ready.  I’m worried that they’re still a little bit too worried about themselves, about which one of them is the most important, about who belongs with them, about who is acceptable.  I’m worried that they don’t get along with each other, that they’re more concerned about their own safety and their own security and their own place in life than what they’re called to do.  I’m worried that they’re still just a little bit too attached to the rules of religion that sometimes they forget to follow with awe and wonder and the joy of what each moment holds.  I’m worried that it will become about religion rather than people, about order rather than children of God, about agendas and issues and which “side” one is on rather than about You.  I’m worried that they’ll forget who they are.  I’m worried that they will forget that we are all children of God, that we are all called to be a part of this Kingdom. 

Lake of Galilee
(Tiberius, February, 2010)
Ruins of the Synogogue
Capernaum, Galilee, Israel

When life changes like this, when you know that going forward is the only direction to go, you can’t help but become a little sentimental about the past.  It’s good to remember.  It’s good to give thanks for all those rich and wonderful memories that carry you forward.  So all those family pictures and images come flooding into my mind.  I remember those days around the lake when they were all so excited about the newness of it all, when they were all so sure that this was the direction that their lives should take, when they all willingly left the lives that they had built behind and went forward into the unknown, when their faith was new and full of hope.  I remember the gatherings when so many would come, when so many hope-filled faces searching for something to give their life meaning.  I remember meals together as we shared with one another.  I remember standing in the synagogue with the sun beating down and all the town stopping, if only for a moment, to listen.

Judean Wilderness near
Jerusalem
(February, 2010)

But things change.  Life marches on whether or not we’re ready to go.  Out here in the wilderness, I’m reminded of that time such a short few years ago when I was here alone.  I remember being out here and being a little scared and unsure, a little tempted to turn toward something else, but so filled with faith and so aware of Your Presence with me.  It is strange that now, traveling through that same foreboding place, I am not alone and, yet, I feel so lonely.  They have no idea.  They have no sense of what we’re probably walking into.  The news coming out of the city is not good.  The political climate is really not very stable, not very welcoming of any change.  The political rhetoric has become very centered on what is best for the “me’s” of the world and has forgotten that we are all here together as children of God.  I suppose when we get there, there will be the faithful few that will greet us.  But I doubt they’ll stay.  I doubt they’ll stay when they realize how dangerous this really is.  And these with me–my brothers and sisters, my good friends, those whom I so dearly love, I’m not sure how much they can take.  I’m not sure if they can stand strong and faithful against what is to come.  I think there’s a good chance that I am in this alone. 

But I know that You are with me.  I know that You will never desert me.  And I know that You are with them.  Keep them safe.  Remind them how very much they are loved.  And give them strength.  There is, oh, so much work left to do.

It is time.  It is time to go to Jerusalem…

The gates of the city are just up ahead.  There is no other way around.  This is not an easy journey.  But it one that all of must walk.  As you enter this Holiest of Weeks, what do you need to leave behind?  And what do you need to carry into the city?

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Who Do You Say That I Am: Servant

shelliwilliams In God's Image, JESUS, LENT, Servant, Slave, Surrender
“Christ at Rest”
Hans Holbein the Younger, 1519
Berlin State Museums

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

We are accustomed to hearing Jesus described as a servant, even a suffering servant.  But, to be honest, we sort of cringe.  We don’t like the words “servant” or “slave”.  They uncomfortably remind us of that horrible centuries-long blotch on our nation’s [not so]-otherwise pristine history.  And the idea of our being asked to follow Jesus down that road is probably even more uncomfortable.  It goes against our nature.  We like to be in control.  In fact, we pride ourselves on being in control of our lives.  And now we are told that taking on the form of a slave is the way that one is exalted.  This just doesn’t make sense.  Surrendering is not the way you win or get ahead, is it?

This passage depicts “being in the form of God” as opposite from “being in the form of a slave”.  Essentially, Jesus emptied himself and became dependent upon God, fully surrendered, a servant of God.  He became fully human by surrendering himself to the Divine.  He surrendered self-advancement and instead became fully human, fully made in God’s image, became what he was called to be by God.  He surrendered himself and descended all the way to Golgotha.  But Jesus was not a victim.  He surrendered himself.  That is the difference between this blotch that we think of when we hear the word slavery and the notion of Jesus (and us) being called to become a servant.  God does not force or coerce us into slavery.  God does not take away our control, take away our choices, take away our ability to walk freely wherever we desire to go.  God doesn’t even, to be honest, tell us how we are supposed to believe or how we are supposed to understand God.  The Divine does not do that.  In fact, true humans do not do that.  That is done by us when we allow ourselves to become and act less than human, inhumane, when we become less than who God calls us to be.

So Jesus, with all knowledge of what it entailed, with every molecule of his being, freely and deliberately chose to surrender, chose to forego those things that trap us humans, that convince us that we’re something different than we are, that, at their worst, compel us to be less than human.  And in choosing to relinquish control to God, Jesus was exalted.  And we are called to do the same.  We are created in the image of God.  But an image is not “like God”.  (We are not now nor will we ever be “godly”.)  An image of a thing is not the thing.  But a good image reminds us of the thing itself.  Jesus as fully human surrendered his life so that others might see God.

So, then, how does that help us?  How can we relinquish control to God and still stand firm in our belief, still be persistent in our faith, still be strong in our passion for peace and justice for all?  Shhhh!  Just let go.  God is calling you to do all those things.  But they’re not about you; they’re about God.  God does not need us to work for God.  God is perfectly capable of it all.  But God’s greatest desire is that we choose to follow, choose to become the people of God, choose to be with God in every step of our journey.  God’s desire is that we freely choose to follow the Way of Christ.  It probably has a lot more to do with attentiveness than anything else.  To whom do you pay attention?

So, on this thirty-third day of Lenten observance, be attentive.   whom do you pay attention?  Who do you follow?  What in your life is more important than being with God?  Then let it go…the time is almost here.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Who Do You Say That I Am: Healer

shelliwilliams Healing, JESUS, LENT
“The Healing of the Paralytic”
The oldest known depiction of Jesus
from the Syrian city of Dura Europos
c. 235

Scripture Passage:  Matthew 12: 22-23
Then they brought to him a demoniac who was blind and mute; and he cured him, so that the one who had been mute could speak and see.  All the crowds were amazed and said, “Can this be the Son of David?”

We know of the plethora of stories that depict Jesus as a healer.  In fact, more healing stories are told about Jesus than any other figure in the Jewish tradition.  We like that image, even if we don’t fully understand it.  Most of us have to admit that we’re a little cynical, if not downright distrusting, of stories of miraculous healings.  There’s got to be an explanation, right?  There’s got to be some way to make this make sense and fit into our understandings of how the world works.

And yet, healing is not “fixing”.  The Scriptures that depict healings don’t really say that things were put back the way they were before or the way society assumes they should be.  I think maybe we just read that into them.  In the passage above, the word “cured” is used.  The Greek from which that was translated is therapeuo (rather than therapeia), which can mean cure, heal, or serve. Well, that’s interesting.  Maybe Jesus didn’t “cure” him at all the way we think of “curing”.  Maybe Jesus “served” him, paid attention to him, engaged him, treated him respectfully for possibly the first time in the person’s life.  And maybe it was that simple act of caring, of treating someone like a person rather than an illness or even as “less” than a person that brought healing and wholeness and let him see and hear for the first time in his life what life really held.

To be honest, I don’t think we overestimate Jesus’ ability to heal; I think we water it down, trying to make it understandable and manageable.  I think we try to limit it to literal “fixing” when it’s something much, much more profound, much, much more needed in our world.  God never promised that the world would be fixed.  Suffering abounds.  But God did promise that we would never be alone as we journeyed through it and that, ultimately, all of Creation would be redeemed, would be made new.  It is the story of our faith.  It’s ultimate depiction, the ultimate “healing” story is the story of The Cross, the story of God taking the most horrific, the most despicable, the most inhumane that humanity offers, and offering instead healing and life, offering not a “cure” to death, but a recreation of it.  Jesus’ death was not “fixed”; it was redeemed, made something different, remade into something new–life.

Back to our little word study, the word therapeuo is found again in The Book of Acts (Acts 17: 24-25) but this time the NRSV translates it as “serve”:  “The God who made the world and everything in it, he who is Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in shrines made by human hands, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mortals life and breath and all things.”

So, on this thirty-second day of Lenten observance, use your imagination.  Imagine what “healing”, what newness, God in Christ offers you.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Who Do You Say That I Am: Teacher

shelliwilliams Disciple, JESUS, LENT, Teacher
“Sermon on the Mount”
Carl Bloch, 19th century

Scripture Passage: Matthew 22: 36-40
“Teacher, which commandment im the law is the greatest?”  He said to him. “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.’  This is the greatest and first commandment.  And a secon is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”

I don’t think any of us dispute that Jesus was a teacher.  He was steeped in Scripture and rich with story.  Our canon depicts him as one that people literally followed around to hear and then stayed and hung on every word, sometimes, apparently, even forgetting to bring food to eat!  And yet it wasn’t like Jesus was toting around numerous commentaries or dragging a white board around with him.  I’m pretty sure that Jesus didn’t need my trusty little Sunday-morning tote bag crammed full of everything that I will need for the morning along with numerous books with little sticky notes in them where I’m supposed to read somewhat profound thoughts.  And think about it, did Jesus EVER ask the Disciples to memorize something?  The notion of Jesus as teacher was, it seems to me, more engaged.  I don’t envision Jesus as a lecturer.  I think he probably wanted to hear what people had to say.  In fact, I think Jesus was craving knowledge himself.  Surely he wasn’t plunked down on this earth, Holy Spirit aside, with a full knowledge of everything that was needed to be known.  I mean, really, how boring!  I don’t think God meant for Jesus to walk this earth to spout knowledge at us; I think that Jesus came to show us what it meant to be a disciple, to be a learner, to be a student.

Ruins of Synogogue
Sepphoris (Tzippori) Israel

So, what do you think Jesus was doing with those famous missing years?  What sort of life did he have between the manger and the Jordan, between birth and baptism?  Perhaps he was learning, perhaps even going through the somewhat arduous training to be a rabbi, to be a teacher, to be an authority on the Torah and what it means for one’s life.  Perhaps this training began early, early in his life.  In fact, one of the capital cities of first-century Galilee was Sepphoris, the “jewel” of Galilee.  Nazareth, which didn’t have much at all (remember, nothing good comes from Nazareth) was just three or four miles away.  And in the ruins of that city, guess what’s there?  This thriving Jewish-Roman city was the site of a rabbinical school.  Can’t you just see young Jesus sitting at the feet of the master teachers soaking in everything he could?  (So much, in fact, that the famous visit to Jerusalem as a child seemed only natural for him to stay behind and hang on every word that the rabbis had to offer.)

Jesus did not come to set us straight or to fill us with knowledge.  Jesus came to show us how to be a disciple, to show us how to thirst for knowledge and understanding, to show us how to thirst for God.  I’m pretty sure that Jesus taught sans lesson plans.  Instead, he engaged with those around him that they might know what it means to thirst for the Divine, to want so badly to know God that they would become a disciple, a learner, a student of the Divine.  William Arthur Ward once said that “the mediocre teacher tells; the good teacher explains; the superior teacher demonstrates; and the great teacher inspires.”  So, Jesus, the master teacher inspired us to be disciples.  Go and be filled…

On this thirty-first day of Lenten observance, be inspired by the master teacher.  Become a learner.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli