SEASONS

Station II: Take Up Your Cross

shelliwilliams Cross, LENT, Life, Station 2, STATIONS OF THE CROSS
Copper Plate Depicting Station II
Samarpan Spiritual Leadership Center
Poway, CA

Scripture Passage:  Luke 9: 18-24
18Once when Jesus was praying alone, with only the disciples near him, he asked them, “Who do the crowds say that I am?”19They answered, “John the Baptist; but others, Elijah; and still others, that one of the ancient prophets has arisen.”20He said to them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter answered, “The Messiah of God.”21He sternly ordered and commanded them not to tell anyone,22saying, “The Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, chief priests, and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised.”23Then he said to them all, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.24For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it.

The second station of the Via Dolorosa depicts Jesus taking up his cross.  Tried in a sham trial and condemned to death, Jesus is handed the heavy blocks of wood that have been hastily bound together.  What began as God’s creation pushed through from the soil has been taken and turned into an instrument of death.  So, Jesus takes up his cross.  The gates of the fortress open and Jesus is pulled to his feet and handed the heavy wood.  He begins to walk what would become known as the Way of the Cross, the Way of Sorrows, the Via Dolorosa.  He passes through the gate.  There is no turning back.

We are told to take up our cross and follow.  Surely that doesn’t mean this!  Surely the Gospel writers meant it metaphorically, meant that we shoul learn to be like Jesus, to follow his example.  It can’t mean this.  Surely we’re not supposed to take this literally!  So, what does that mean to take up our cross then?  If Jesus was nothing more than an example of how we’re supposed to live, we could have just as easily followed Mother Teresa or someone else that did a really good job of being a human.  And when you think about it, Jesus kept getting himself into trouble.  He continuously broke the rules and there are indications in the Gospel accounts that he may possibly have dealt with some anger management issues.  So, how do we follow THAT?  We deny ourselves, take up our cross, and follow.  Now?  Now, when things are not going well?  NOW we’re supposed to follow?

Jesus was not just an example of how to live; Jesus was the very embodiment of the Way to God.  And this Way of the Cross, this way of sorrows, this Via Dolorosa is part of that.  It is not rational to us; it doesn’t make sense.  But Jesus didn’t come to make sense; Jesus came to show us the Way to Life.  Being a disciple, a follower of Christ has little to do with behaving (Thanks be to God!).  Being a disciple means that we take all of this life that we hold dear, all of this life with which we’ve surrounded ourselves, all of these rules and all of these “right” way of doing things and lay them aside.  And we begin walking–through the gate, into the mystery of something that we don’t understand.  In essence, we walk into the unknown carrying nothing but our faith.   We deny ourselves and open our eyes to what God has placed before it.  That is our Way; that is our Cross.  And we walk this Way of the Cross.  It means more than following; it means becoming the very Way itself.  It means yielding ourself to the mystery that is beyond what we know and becoming who we were always meant to be.  It will take us through every aspect of life–through darkness and light, through suffering and joy, through doubt and faith.

It is not an easy way.  The cross is heavy.  The rough-hewn wood is splintering into my skin. Those along the pathway that are yelling and jeering make it even more painful.  This was not what I had planned.  I never thought that it would turn out like this.  I mean, I had so much more to do.  But I will go because I know that I do not walk this way alone.  Life as we know it is not all bathed in light.  Perhaps the darkness ensues at times to show us that God is there, even there, in the darkness, walking with us.  And I also know that somewhere down this road, there is more Light and more Love and more Life than anything that I could have conjured up.  And somewhere it will all make sense.  But, for now, I will take up my cross and walk this Way.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IUFJJ-5K_LY&feature=player_detailpage

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Jerusalem, Jerusalem…

shelliwilliams Jerusalem, Justice, Lament, LENT

This Week’s Lectionary Passage:  Luke 13: 31-35
31At that very hour some Pharisees came and said to him, “Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.”32He said to them, “Go and tell that fox for me, ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work.33Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.’34Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!35See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, ‘Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.’”

Jesus is in Jerusalem.  It is the holy city, the city of dreams of what God holds for all of the earth, the city of holiness and Presence, the City of God.  This city is supposed to be, for all practical purposes, Ground Zero for the coming of the Kingdom of God into this world.  But Jesus stands and looks out over the crying stones and the suffocating walls.  The life that could have been is being snuffed out as we speak and replaced with the fear of something different, the fear that they might lose what they have gathered and attained, the fear of not being in control.  And so the stones cry out and Jesus laments.  “Jerusalem, Jerusalem, for you knew the plan that I had for you…”  And the clouds gather and the city darkens just a bit.  No one really notices it at that point.  No one sees what is coming.  Jesus laments alone–on his knees, before the city that he loves, lamenting for what could have been, what should have been, what will never be again.

We all know how it ended.  This was only the beginning.  The storm clouds would continue to gather until they hovered over the death of the world and then in that fateful moment, they clashed and broke apart, shaking the earth with rage and despair and plunging it into darkness.  Jerusalem, Jerusalem.  What happened?  Just a short time ago, we had such vision, such hope.  We dared to dream dreams.  There was a star that hovered above us lighting our way.  But now…what happened?

And so we sit here 2,000 years later–21 centuries of dreaming dreams and hoping hopes and imagining that we could make the world different.  Oh, it’s not that bad.  Some things have changed.  Little by little we dare to let go just a bit and give God room to spin the world into something that we can’t even imagine.  Did you see that Mississippi ratified the 13th amendment?  I think things are looking up.  Supposedly inspired by the movie “Lincoln”, Mississippi finally filed the final ratification of the 13th amendment banning slavery that was originally approved 148 years ago.  OK, so it takes time…Jerusalem, Jerusalem….Jesus looks out over the Kidron Valley toward Jerusalem and at the same time looks out over the oceans of the world at our cities, looks out at a world that drags its feet to welcome the stranger and washes its hands of justice and mercy…Jerusalem, Jerusalem…

But Jesus’ lament is not a regret.  It is a challenge.  This lament is a reminder to get our house in order.  That’s all Jesus really wanted.  I don’t think he was under any sort of misconception that this was going to happen overnight or even in a little over 30 years.  The truth is, God calls us and when we do not respond, God does not reject us; instead, God surely laments.  And even through the Sacred Eyes now blurred by Divine Tears, God, with open arms, once again invites us home.  Lent calls us to remember that, to remember that even when we make other plans, even when we lose our focus, and even when we completely reject what God is doing, God is always there, always calling us to return.  But until we realize that, we’ll never find our way. 

Grace and Peace,

Shelli
 

Station I: Condemned

shelliwilliams Condemnation, CRUCIFIXION, Guilt, LENT, Station 1, STATIONS OF THE CROSS

Scripture Passage: Luke 23: 20-25
20Pilate, wanting to release Jesus, addressed them again; 21but they kept shouting, “Crucify, crucify him!” 22A third time he said to them, “Why, what evil has he done? I have found in him no ground for the sentence of death; I will therefore have him flogged and then release him.” 23But they kept urgently demanding with loud shouts that he should be crucified; and their voices prevailed. 24So Pilate gave his verdict that their demand should be granted. 25He released the man they asked for, the one who had been put in prison for insurrection and murder, and he handed Jesus over as they wished.

It has begun.  Our recognition of Christ’s Passion is not just relegated to those few heartwrenching hours on Good Friday or even to the few fast-moving days leading up to it.  Christ’s Passion actually began years ago in a small grotto or stable in Bethlehem.  Now do not think that I am one of those that thinks that God sent Christ to our little earth for the sole purpose of dying.  I just can’t see a God who is that cold and calculating.  Christ was not sent here to die but to live and to, at the same time, show us how to do the same. That was the point. 

And yet, even as early as the moment when Herod heard of the possibility of Jesus’ existence and ordered him (and all of the other male children of that age) killed, Jesus was condemned.  Actually, I think you can go back farther than that.  I mean, really, think about it–born in a barn or something to parents that really sort of appear to be illegal immigrants in sort of a no-name town just outside of the hustle and bustle of the holy city.  Jesus came into this world alien, poor, and condemned.  So this condemnation of Pilate’s, sparked on by those in majority rule, those who were trying desperately to maintain life as they knew it, is yet another step in this walk of a sadly condemned Christ.

This first Station of the Cross begins at the Praetorium, the court of law, located in the Fortress of Antonia, north of the Temple Mount.  Pilate is depicted as the accuser and, yet, if it had really been left up to him, Jesus would have been flogged and sent home.  But Pilate was swept into a whirlwind of political and personal agendas.  Jesus was essentially a victim of the conflicts of a society in chaos as its members postured to place themselves higher and stay ahead of the game.  After all, this man was expecting us to change!  So as the crowd became louder and louder as they tried to get the last word, Pilate had no choice but to hand down the sentence that would change the world.

We stand in awe of Jesus.  We are amazed at one who can hold so true to their convictions.  And we blame Pilate and the crowd and the disciples.  (I mean, really, where ARE they???)  And yet, where would we be?  Where would you be?  Would you have put your financial security, your reputation, perhaps even your life on the line to stand up for the condemnation of the innocent, to speak out in the way God calls you to speak?  DO you ever do that?  I have to confess that I fall embarrassingly short of that calling.  Jesus has been condemned to death and we stand not really knowing what to do next.  And so we sit quietly in the warmth of our comfortable lives while the world goes on.

On this Lenten journey, let us truly walk this Way of the Cross by speaking out for the condemned, by standing up for what is right, by being Christ in the world.  Let us finally kneel at the manger and worship Emmanuel, God With Us.  Let us find room this time.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

How To Be a Good Citizen

shelliwilliams Alien, Citizenship, Holiness, LENT

This Week’s Lectionary Passage: Philippians 3:17-4:1
17Brothers and sisters, join in imitating me, and observe those who live according to the example you have in us.18For many live as enemies of the cross of Christ; I have often told you of them, and now I tell you even with tears.19Their end is destruction; their god is the belly; and their glory is in their shame; their minds are set on earthly things.20But our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ.21He will transform the body of our humiliation that it may be conformed to the body of his glory, by the power that also enables him to make all things subject to himself.  4Therefore, my brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, stand firm in the Lord in this way, my beloved.

So what does it mean to be a good citizen?  I mean, we’re taught that beginning when we’re young, right?  Well, according to Paul, it all depends on where one’s citizenship lies.  Essentially, he is laying out two realities–one that surrounds his hearers on this earth and the other, the other is the way to live authentically, the way to live as God calls us to live.  It is a depiction of a life of holiness. 

Now we need to understand here that the people of Philippi were Roman citizens who took this very seriously. Philippi was a Roman, rather than a Greek, colony.  But not everyone was a citizen.  “Citizenship” was not a right.  It was not earned or claimed.  It was something that came with birthright only.  So, their power came through their rights as natural and inherited citizens.  But Paul is claiming to them that they have a much more significant citizenship waiting for them.  It is essentially a redefinition of their very identity.  And this citizenship did not carry a distinction of either class or birthright.  It was open to all.  This was indeed a new citizenship and one founded on the cross.  It is a relationship based on others (as opposed to the self-centered “god in one’s belly” type of life).  It is a citizenship that is not inherited but is rather lived.  It is based on humility and self-sacrifice, just as Jesus Christ lived.  It is a holy and sacred citizenship.

The problem is that you can’t really do both.  We’re not talking about some sort of dual citizenship here.  Paul is claiming that one is either a citizen of this world or a citizen of that vision of what the world could be that God holds. But I don’t think that it’s a clear “either-or” choice either.  (Don’t you hate that?  Isn’t that just the way this walk of faith keeps working?) After all, part of being a “citizen” in this way of Christ is to live in THIS world.  So, basically, we are not choosing to reject the world but rather to live as resident aliens in it, to live as citizens of a world yet to come in a world that is yet to change. (Hmmm!  That just sort of makes your head spin, doesn’t it?)  Yes, we are called to live in a world that expects us to adopt its customs and speak its official language, to worship and vote in the way that the majority expects, and to live quietly and good and productive citizens.  And yet, our calling as followers of Christ has nothing to do with any of that.  It is about living a life that welcomes the diversity that is humanity, that speaks out for the least and the last and against the injustices that this world holds, and living not as merely productive beings but as those who are alive.  And the rights of this citizenship?  That’s easy–it’s the right to live, to be, to love, to become.  It’s the right to come alive and it belongs to us all. 

So, what is the pathway to that citizenship?  It is this…this Way that we’re on, this Way that makes us come alive. So in this Season of Lent, come alive!  What does it mean to live in this world as a citizen of a world to come?

Grace and Peace,

Shelli   

Intersection

shelliwilliams Humanness, LENT, Prayer, STATIONS OF THE CROSS, Way, Way of the Cross, Worship
The Way of the Cross
Pieter Brueghel the Younger (1603)
Koninklijk Museum Voor Schone Kunsten (Belgium)

Scripture Passage:  Matthew 11: 28-30
28“Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.29Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.30For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

In this Season of Lent, we are called to deepen our own walk with Christ.  This means moving beyond what Christ does for us.  Oh, don’t get me wrong.  Christ does everything for us.  But our relationship with Christ does not stop at that.  God is more than some sort of divine vending machine.  We are called to do more than worship the God who gives us everything; we are called to enter the Way of Christ itself, the Way of the Cross.  It means experiencing all of Christ–the birth, the ministry, the life, the Passion, the crucifixion, the death, the Resurrection–on the deepest and most profound level.  It means moving from being an observer to being a participant with Christ.  It also means entering our own humanity at the deepest level. It means becoming real.  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 have you taken up?  Pause and consider.

Over the last few years, I have become more and more drawn into the Stations of the Cross, that 4th century devotional tool that helped pilgrims flocking to the Holy Land from all parts of the world to walk in the Way of Christ.  It has become more than a way of prayer.  It is real, full of the depth and breadth of human experience and emotion, full of the power to move one beyond oneself, full of Christ.  These Stations, also called the “Way of the Cross”, the “Way of Sorrows”, the “Sorrowful Way”, and the “Via Dolorosa”, are a pilgrimage not just to the historical places of Jesus (because, truth be known, the places marked as stations in the streets of Jerusalem are really just good guesses) but to the Way to which we are called.

In this walk of faith, we are clear that we are called to worship and revere God, our Creator, the very Spirit that runs beneath us and at the same time courses through our veins.  This is the God who is there just ahead of us, calling us forward, calling us home.  This is our very source of gravity, that straight and perfect plumb-line that connects us to the Holy and the Sacred.  And yet, in science, relative strength is measured not just with the vertical pull of gravitational force, but with the horizontal relationship to that force itself. And true horizontality, the strongest point, occurs at the intersection with the vertical.  This Way that we walk with Christ, this horizontal side-by-side with Jesus gives meaning to our worship and reverence and draws it strength at that point.

So in the midst of our Lenten journey, remember that it is more than becoming a better person, more than developing a deeper relationship with God.  It is about worshipping and walking, walking and worshipping.  It is about entering the way of Christ.  So in the midst of these writings, let us walk this Way of the Cross.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli  

Subtraction

shelliwilliams LENT, Life, Subtraction, Temptation

Scripture Passage:  Luke 9: 23-24
23Then he said to them all, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.24For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it.

So, out in that wilderness, Jesus was doing more than just being tempted.  The wilderness is not something that is done TO us.  It is a place you enter, a place you experience, a place in which you change.  But change is hard.  It is not something that happens by just piling on more stuff.  A couple of years ago, I had my bathroom remodeled.  Well, intellectually I knew that in order to build something new, you had to first tear out the old.  But it was still disconcerting.  At the end of the contractor’s first day of work, I walked into the house and saw all of my things covered in plastic.  That in and of itself was strange.  But then there was the bathroom.  There were no lights (because the electricity has been disconnected and partially ripped out) but all I saw was an empty room walled no longer by tile and paint but by raw wood.  And there, there where the toilet had been, was a big gaping hole.  All of the fixtures (yes I mean ALL of the fixtures) were piled in my yard.  I had this sinking feeling.  “What have I done?”

Our faith journey is no different.  We do not go through our lives collecting more and more knowledge about God or more and more spiritual disciplines.  Try as we might, we cannot continue to take on increased faith and hope to cram it into our already-busy lives and our already-over-taxed bodies and our already-full minds.  Our faith journey, just like everything else in life, does not work like that.  Early 14th century German theologian and mystic Meister Eckhart said that “God is not attained by a process of addition to anything in the soul, but by a process of subtraction.”  Our faith journey must involve letting go of those things to which we hold so tight, of creating room for God to fill us.

The Season of Lent has traditionally been one in which many people are compelled to give up something.  Most think that by creating that want, one will be reminded to think of God.  I suppose that works.  If you think of God every time you want chocolate, go for it.  Other people spend Lent adding something to their life, perhaps something that they know that they need to be including in their faith journey anyway.  So while both of these ways of journeying through Lent are good, I’m not sure that either is enough.  (Shoot!  You mean I gave up chocolate and it’s not even enough???)  No, seriously, subtraction and addition are good things but they are both necessary.  As Meister Eckhart reminds us, our faith journey is first an act of subtraction, shedding those things that pull us away, that distract us, that get in the way of who we are.  They are the temptations that we so want to hold onto for comfort, for security, for power, for control.  Let go.  That’s what the Scripture says.  Let go of what you think your life is.  Create room.  And then God will have room to add the things that give you life–trust, strength, faith. 

This Lenten journey is not just one of giving up.  It is a season of ordering, or remodeling one’s life, tearing away the things that you thought you needed so that God can create something new.  But it’s more than a season.  Each Lenten journey is a part of our whole journey.  So rather than it being a temporary way station, this experience of subtraction is part of the Way itself.  Lent is just a time to teach us that.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

On the Other Side of the Wilderness

shelliwilliams Faith, LENT, Temptation, Trust, Wilderness
“Christ in the Desert”
Ivan Kramskoi, 1872
Tretyakov Gallery, Moscow

This Week’s Lectionary Passage:  Luke 4: 1-13
Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, 2where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished. 3The devil said to him, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.” 4Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone.’” 5Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. 6And the devil said to him, “To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. 7If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.” 8Jesus answered him, “It is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’” 9Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, “If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, 10for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you,’ 11and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’” 12Jesus answered him, “It is said, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’” 13When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.

Every year in this first week of Lent we read of Jesus, led or driven by the Spirit, intentionally going out into the wilderness.  On purpose?  Who does that?  Who chooses to relinquish control and put oneself at the mercy of the elements or whatever else might come along? Well, obviously Jesus.  So what is our take-away of that?  Are we really supposed to follow?  After all, our lives have been a veritable exercise in learning to maintain control–of our homes, our families, our finances, our health, our time, and even our spiritual life.  And then, this.  Jesus leaves all the comforts and control of home and goes out into the wilderness by himself.  I mean, really, anything could happen out there, right?  He is hungry.  He is vulnerable.  And he surely knows that he is in danger.  And sure enough, temptation looms.  Jesus, Son of God and Son of Man, the gift of the God’s unfailing grace, the ground of our hope, and the promise of our deliverance from sin and death, is driven not just into the wilderness but into the depths of his humanity.  And it is there that he is tempted to raise himself up, to fill his emptiness, to place himself above others, to guarantee his own being and his own protection. 

The truth is, though, no one, not even Jesus, can save oneself.  That’s just not the way it works.  Maybe that’s what the wilderness teaches us–that we cannot save ourselves, that we cannot guarantee what will or won’t happen to us, that we are not, much as we hate to admit it, in control.  Now there are those that will say that this whole account was some sort of divine plan by God.  I have a hard time with that.  I mean, really, what point wout that prove?  All that says is that God is some sort of divine game player and we are nothing but pawns on an earthly gameboard.  And after all, is Jesus human or isn’t he?  I’ve been told that he was.  You know–fully human.  He was not above it all.  He was not a super hero.  And he was certainly not a game piece.  He encountered the same human weaknesses that we do every day.  Real weaknesses, real happenings in one’s life, are part of being real, part of being human. 

The truth is that there are some things for which we just cannot prepare.  I mean, think about it, we go along living our lives the best we can and then, without warning, a meteor comes screaming across the sky.  Do you know why astronomers and cosmologists weren’t expecting it?  They didn’t know that it was coming because it was too small to see.  That, too, is what the wilderness teaches us.  Sometimes the small things that we dismiss in our lives are the things that can hurt us, can slowly, bit by bit, pull us away from who we are, from who God calls us to be.

God does not inflict the wilderness on us.  Jesus was not led into this dark and foreboding place to pass some sort of Divine test.  Because, remember, a test does not always possess a right or wrong answer.  Think about a chemical test.  You put two or more elements together not to see if they will pass but to compel them to change.  Jesus went into the wilderness to change, to be fully human, and to find deep within himself the piece of the Godself that calls him home.

So, in this Lenten season, let us intentionally enter the wilderness, not to prove something or because God is waiting to see whether or not we fail, but because the wilderness is the way home.

The Promised Land lies on the other side of a wilderness.  (Havelock Ellis)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli