Following Christ

Seized By the Power of a Great Affection

shelliwilliams Breathing Out Series , , , ,

(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

Scripture Text: John 12: 1-11

12Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. 2There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. 3Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. 4But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, 5“Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” 6(He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) 7Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. 8You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.” 9When the great crowd of the Jews learned that he was there, they came not only because of Jesus but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. 10So the chief priests planned to put Lazarus to death as well, 11since it was on account of him that many of the Jews were deserting and were believing in Jesus.

We are getting closer.  Jerusalem is upon us.  We have walked this Way of letting go and picking up, of feeling both despair and hope, of lament and joy, of breathing out and breathing in.  But, still, the ending is beginning to loom bigger than we imagined it would be. What is it, exactly, that we’re supposed to do with it all?  How do we walk with Jesus to the place where he is handed over?

This passage is usually read on Holy Monday.  It is part of the walk that we walk during Holy Week that ends with Jesus’ crucifixion.  It includes Palm Sunday, the Anointing, the description of the Cross (the wheat passage), the account of Judas, Maundy Thursday, and Good Friday.  But this passage is part of the “taking stock” that we are doing this week, the walk with Jesus through his life.

The truth is that we are not used to a Christ who does nothing, who just surrenders. We are, rather, more comfortable when Jesus is showing us how to do what we’re supposed to do as followers. We like a Jesus who is strong and confident leading our team.  We are not accustomed to such a passive Christ. I looked up the word “passive” in an etymological dictionary. The root is the Latin passiuus. And then, surprisingly, it says “See Passion.” The etymological root of passion, the term that we use to describe Jesus’ suffering journey to the cross, is the Latin passionem, or suffering. And it says “See Passive.” The two words are related. The “Passion”, this time of suffering and letting go 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.  Jesus has shown us how to let go, how to surrender.

In the passage, we find this passive Jesus. He visits the home of friends, the home of those whom he had served, those for whom he had done things. And, it says, they give a dinner for him. Jesus is the guest of honor. After all the doing, after all the action, after all the stuff, he now spends time with friends. And they serve him. And then the passage tells us that Mary takes a pound of costly perfumed nard, breaks the seal, and lavishly pours it onto Jesus’ feet. Then as the oil runs down his feet and begins to drip onto the floor, she bows and wipes his feet with her hair. The whole house is filled with this overwhelming fragrance, sort of a combination of mint and ginseng, sickeningly sweet.

Well, the disciples just couldn’t leave it alone. What in the world was she doing? Here is this man who has worked for years to bring peace and justice to the world, to heal others, to end poverty and oppression and you waste this oil by pouring it out on him! That oil could have been sold. Things could have been done with that money! We could have done great ministry with what you just poured on his feet! But you have wasted it! You have squandered it!

Jesus responds. “Leave her alone,” he says. You see, she gets it. She understands. I do not have long to be with you. She knows where I am going. And she responds. This woman loves Jesus. In fact, she loves Jesus so much that she defies the expected, shuns her role as the subservient female, and instead pours out the abundance of her life and anoints Jesus for his burial. This is not the time to talk about budgets or the ways things are normally done. This is the time of Jesus’ waiting and her response. As she anointed Jesus, Mary entered Jesus’ Passion and understood what it meant to have a personal relationship with Christ.

There are those in our society that would describe that breakthrough as being “born again”. But that phrase, commonplace and probably overused and misused as it is today, was not even around over a hundred years ago. Instead, the words that were used to describe this coming into who Jesus is was to say that one was “seized by the power of a great affection.” Isn’t that an incredible phrase—to be “seized by the power of a great affection”? You see, we 21st century folks usually think we have it all figured out. We know what we’re called to do to make disciples of Jesus Christ. We live our lives as best we can within the framework of what God wants us to do. And we do what we can for others by reaching out in the name of Christ. All of that is wonderful. But are we truly “seized by the power of a great affection”? Why do you think Jesus did everything that he did while he was on this earth? Was it just to show us what it is we’re supposed to do? No, Jesus was more than merely an exemplary human being put here for us to emulate. Jesus came to reveal God’s love, to show us how much God loves each of us and how much God desires us, to make known once and for all the affection that God has for all of God’s Creation and for us as children of God. Jesus was God made known, Emmanuel.

There is a story from the Sufi mystical tradition of a disciple that comes to an elder for direction.  “Where shall I find God?” the disciple asked the elder. “God is with you,” the Holy One replied. “But if that is true,” the disciple asked, “why can I not see this Presence?” “Because you are like the fish who, when in the ocean, never notices the water.” It is not that God is not with us; it is that we are unaware of that incredible Presence.  When we finally stop doing what we think we should be doing, let go, and listen for that which God is calling us to be we will become aware of that extraordinary Presence that is God. And in that becoming, we enter the anointed Christ-life.

We are about to enter the week when we come to the end of all our doing. This is the wilderness week when we let go and walk with Christ through the suffering of the Cross. This is the week when we finally realize that we can do nothing else. And on that final day, as the passive Christ is handed over, there is nothing more for him to do other than wait for our response. Who will follow me? Who will come to me with all your misery and your sins, with all your trouble and your needs, and with all your longings to be loved?  Who will follow me through the wilderness? Who will hand over their lives just as I have done that you too might be raised to new life? Because it is then that the oil will be poured out for you in much the same way as you are immersed in the waters of your Baptism.

I have read several modern interpretations of the theology about Mary that posits that Mary of Bethany and Mary of Magdala were actually the same person, the sister of Lazarus, whom Jesus had raised.  There is also the belief that Martha was possibly a later edition to the narrative.  In other words, Lazarus only had one sister in this interpretation.  I’ve read some of Professor Elizabeth Schrader-Polczer’s work and Diana Butler Bass also writes about it.  Most of the work is based on the earliest existing texts including the Gospel of John (before the Western translators got hold of it) as well as some non-canonical texts (including The Gospel of Mary Magdalene).  So, I’m not completely convinced yet but I find it extraordinarily fascinating.  Because what it does is place Mary right in the story—the whole story.  It shows us that Mary confesses Christ, serves Jesus, anoints him for burial, witnesses his death, and proclaims the first Easter message. 

What I find fascinating is that IF this is the case, it means that Mary was doing everything at that dinner.  She was serving (as women did and even do) AND she was engaged, sitting at the feet of Jesus and anointing him for burial.  Mary got it.  Mary understood it enough that she did not allow herself to be strapped by the ways of the world, to be limited by her gender or her role, to be told the “proper” way to do something.  She allowed herself to be truly “seized by the power of a great affection”.  And, in that moment, Jesus was everything to her.  In that moment, she gave herself to him.  In that moment, the connection that they shared was the human connection that God calls us all to share—to love each other without distraction.  So, breathe out…breathe out all those things that pull you away from paying attention to each other, from engaging.  I have a handful of friends (one is a cousin) with whom I have regular or semi-regular lunches.  We do not engage with our phones.  We do not read anything but the menu.  We just spend time together.  We talk.  We share.  We ask advice.  We talk about books and theology and family and memories.  The point is that we breathe out the world and engage with each other.  That’s what Mary did.  I envision that if there WAS no Martha, then the dirty dishes were left in the sink for a while (the scandal!).  And then we breathe in…we breathe in Jesus.  We become seized by the power of a great affection.

Mary breathed out.  She breathed out what was expected.  She breathed out everything that would be said about her.  And then she knelt down and lifted the cup and poured out the oil until nothing was left.  It dripped down Jesus and onto the floor and seeped into the floor boards.  She tried to wipe it up with her hair.  And then she breathed in.  She wanted to remember this moment.  Days later would be too late.  Now was the time to engage.  In this moment she knew.  And she breathed in the presence of her Lord.

Jesus is Christ because he is truly human…He is the true Human because of his maturity, because of the way he showed us, beyond and inclusive of morality, the way to be a human being.  He tells the disciples that they will always have the poor with them—and that today he is here and he wants the friendship, he wants the spice, he wants the life…He is also telling us one thing more—that life is good, that its hidden design is goodness, that we may and should be sure to enjoy life.  Dig down.  Dig deeper.  Get intoxicated.  Smell the spices.  Jesus did.  So may we.  Even if we aren’t there yet. (Donna E. Schaper)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

The Way

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(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

Lake of Galilee from Capernaum

Scripture Text:  Mark 6:1-6

He left that place and came to his hometown, and his disciples followed him. 2On the sabbath he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were astounded. They said, “Where did this man get all this? What is this wisdom that has been given to him? What deeds of power are being done by his hands! 3Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon, and are not his sisters here with us?” And they took offense at him. 4Then Jesus said to them, “Prophets are not without honor, except in their hometown, and among their own kin, and in their own house.” 5And he could do no deed of power there, except that he laid his hands on a few sick people and cured them. 6And he was amazed at their unbelief.

The account of Jesus early in his ministry speaking in the synagogue before his hometown is found in all four Gospels.  It is the beginning of the story of Jesus we know as the teacher, as the community organizer, as the one that pushes people beyond their own boundaries.  In the Lukan Gospel, the passage from which he read is included. 

So, as was the custom, Jesus stood in the synagogue to read.  He unrolled the scroll and began.  But something happened in the midst of the reading.  He saw himself differently after reading the lyrical words from the scroll.  Hear the Scripture that was read: (Isaiah 61)

The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me;
he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the broken-hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives,  and release to the prisoners;
2to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour,  and the day of vengeance of our God;    to comfort all who mourn; 3to provide for those who mourn in Zion—to give them a garland instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.  They will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, to display his glory. 4They shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations; they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations.

The truth was that Jesus wasn’t seen as a prophet or a Messiah by this crowd.  He was just one of them, this little kid that had made good and of whom they were very proud.  This was the kid that they had helped raise.  They probably thought that his ministry would be a reflection on them.  But Jesus was not cooperating.  And when they looked at him, they did not see a reflection of what they were expecting but a dim view of something that was a tad unfamiliar.  Jesus was standing there, calling them to change, calling them to look at things differently, to step out of their carefully constructed boxes and away from their earthly temples of who they thought they should be and actually become the people of God. So, who did he think he was?  God?

The truth is, Jesus was asking them to go beyond what they knew.  As hard as it was for them to fathom, God was not some far-off inaccessible entity to which they could go when it was convenient and from which they could turn when it was not.  This ordinary, earthly man standing before them was God—Immanuel, God-with-us—calling them to serve others, to put themselves out there, and to unlock those gates that we all so carefully build around our lives.  They were being called to look into that reflection to see not who they were but who they were supposed to be.

And the passage says that they “took offense at him”.  In Greek, the word offense is “skandalon”, from which we get the word “scandal”.  Jesus was scandalous because he had the audacity to imply not that these learned people who had worshipped so faithfully for so long were wrong but that the religion that they practice, the boundaries that they had built, were not the whole thing.  

Albert Einstein once said that “we cannot solve our problems with the same mindset that created them.”  This world that God created is always changing, always growing, always alive.  There’s sort of a wildness to it, not to be tamed or fixed, but to be embraced and entered.  We are called to go out into the world and change it.  But, more importantly, we are called to move to where God is leading us and allow ourselves to be changed.  The world is different than it used to be—and so are we.

Jesus got that.  I think he knew in this moment that the ministry he was beginning was not a recap of the “usual” way.  No, it was the Way of Christ, the Way that God calls us to go.  And as much as the world still tries to sanitize that image of Christ, still tries to make him “acceptable” to the ways of the world, as much as those in power try to present a version that is on their side and affirms what they are doing, the truth is that the Way of Christ doesn’t look like this world or this theology that we have so carefully constructed.  It is rather one that shakes us up, turns us around, and heads us in a new direction.  We cannot follow the way that has been paved over and we can’t live in a world that has been safely fenced off against those who we are called to serve.  The pathway ahead is wild and untamed.  So, breathe out…breathe out the usual way.  Breathe out the way the world tells you that you should go.  Breathe out the usual and the comfortable and the way that won’t get you, I don’t know, killed or something.  And breathe in.  Breathe in the Spirit of the Lord that was breathed into the human we call Jesus.  And follow the path that calls you to build up ruins, raise those place that are devastated by our world, and repair the cities that the world has chosen to forget.  Breathe in the very image of Jesus Christ.

I think Jesus knew in this moment that the pathway would not be easy, that people would be “offended”, that there were those who would try to stop him.  Perhaps he knew how it would all end.  Jesus was not just placed in the world to become yet another historic footnote.  Jesus came to invite us into the Story, a story that at times would be difficult, a story that would take us on a difficult journey to the Cross, but, ultimately, a story that would end where it all began—with Life.  And God saw that it was very, very good.

He comes to us as One unknown, without a name, as of old, by the lakeside…He speaks to us the same word:  ‘Follow thou me!” and sets us to the tasks which He has to fulfill for our time…And to those who obey, whether they be wise or simple, [God] will reveal {Godself] in the toils, the conflicts, the sufferings which they shall pass through in this fellowship, and, as an ineffable mystery, they shall learn in their own experience Who [God] is. (Albert Schweitzer)

Lyrics: “Jesus” (Ashley Cleveland)

Jesus
They say You walked upon the water once
When you lived as all men do
Please teach me how to walk the way You did
Because I want to walk with You

Jesus
They say you taught a lame man how to dance
When he had never stood without a crutch
Well here am I Lord holding out my withered hands
And I’m just waiting to be touched

Jesus
Write me into Your story
Whisper it to me
And let me know I’m Yours

Jesus
They say You spoke and calmed an angry wave
That was tossed across a stormy sea
Please teach me how to listen how to obey
‘Cause there’s a storm inside of me

Jesus
Write me into Your story
Whisper it to me
And let me know I’m Yours

They drove the cold nails through Your tired hands
And rolled a stone to seal Your grave
Feels like the devil’s rolled a stone onto my heart
Can You roll that stone away?”

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Being Salt, Being Light

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Matthew 5: 13-20 (Epiphany 5A)

13“You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot. 14“You are the light of the world. A city built on a hill cannot be hid. 15No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. 16In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.

17“Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill. 18For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. 19Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. 20For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

So, you apply for a new job.  You get the job and you are then handed a job description, a very detailed list of what your role is and what responsibilities you have.  At the top, it has your title.  Basically, it tells you who you are, right?  And then you have a list of responsibilities.  So, the job description answers two very basic questions that are probably pretty fundamental questions of life: “Who are we?” and “What are we to do?”  It sounds so easy, so straightforward.  All you have to do is follow the list of responsibilities and you will be what it says at the top of the page (or at least some semblance of it).

But what if you didn’t really apply for that job?  What if you didn’t mean at all to be given that job?  What if, without any real warning, you are handed a shiny new nametag and a job description that describes what you should do when you weren’t even sure that that’s what you wanted to be.  That’s a little bit like what it may feel like when you first read today’s Gospel passage.

I mean, straight out of the blue.  “You are the salt of the earth.”  “You are the light of the world.”  I’m sorry, you said I’m what?  But, Jesus, really, we just wanted to be followers.  We just wanted to follow you to eternity, to stand here and bask in your goodness and your mercy and begin to feel like it was all going to turn out alright.  We wanted to you to lead us, show us where to go.  You know, sort of like that shepherd and sheep metaphor that you kept using.  THAT’S what we signed up to do.  So, what does it mean to be the salt of the earth and the light of the world, exactly?  I think we may be getting this wrong.

So, what does it mean to be called to be salt, to be called the salt of the earth, as the Scripture says?   I mean, salt has many uses.  It purifies; it seasons; it preserves.  It is a nutrient that we need.  It is an antiseptic.  It adds support and buoyance (remember that ships float higher on salt water than fresh water).  So maybe we are called to be multi-faceted, to not just walk one road toward that Presence of God that we think we have identified and nailed down in our lives, but to rather open ourselves to the notion that God appears when we least expect it.  And we are called to be ready, to be open, to do whatever it is that God calls us to do in that moment. 

But, interestingly, salt is of no use to salt.  We cannot serve ourselves.  We are part of a community.  “Being salt” means that we are called to become that embodied Presence of God in the world and for the world and, rather than making everyone and everything into what reflects our own personal image of God, we are rather called to season what we touch so that the flavor that is God comes through.

Then there’s light.  We’re called to be light too?  Good grief!  That’s a lot!  You know, light is something that cannot be hidden or it is no longer light.  So, if we are light, it means that we, too, are seen.  We are meant to be seen, meant to be the ones that illumine the way of Christ, that clarify it for others, that reveal it in the darkness.  We are the ones that light the way for others.

That’s a pretty tall order.  It’s also rather overwhelming, when you think of the magnitude of it.  I mean, it’s not like light puts itself out for a while and then comes back when it’s ready.  Being light is pretty much a full time job.  It’s also an uncomfortable job sometime.  Light doesn’t just illumine the goodness and those things that are worthy of such revelation; light has a habit of shining into the darkest corners of the world and revealing those things that are in need of change, those things that God calls us to change.  And light, true all-encompassing light, does not pick and choose where its rays will shine.  It illumines all in its path taking it unto itself. 

So, “you are the salt of the earth”.  “You are the light of the world.”  Notice that Jesus is not saying that you “should be” salt or light or that you should “try to be” salt and light or that you will become salt and light someday.  No, Jesus says you ARE salt and light.  You just are.  You don’t debate it.  You don’t second-guess it.  You don’t wonder about it.  You just go and be it.  You are salt and light.  Period.

The problem is that you are salt. The problem is that you are light.  It doesn’t mean that you ignore or shun the ways of the world; it means you change them.  The very reason that the Gospel is so powerful is that it actually thrusts us into reality and allows us to move forward in a way that restores everything around us, not only spiritually, but also materially and emotionally.  So why do we often fail at that?  It’s probably because more times than we’d like to admit we allow the culture to shape our faith, rather than being the salt that our world so desperately needs.  We have allowed our light to be hidden because sometimes it’s uncomfortable to be the one that speaks the Truth.

We can no longer stand by and let the Truth be usurped.  We can no longer hide afraid of what others may think.  We cannot excuse ourselves from speaking out because it might shake up our comfortable existence or change how others look at us.  We have to stand up for the Gospel—because we are salt and we are light.  We are the shapers and the illuminators.  We must speak for those who cannot.  We must stand up for those that the world says are not worthy or are not one of us.  We must tear down walls that others try to build and invite the Gospel in. The Gospel is not a viewpoint.  It is not an opinion.  It is not an alternative fact, to coin a new word in our society.  The Gospel is a truth-teller.  See, the problem is that the Gospel is our own call to action.  We can no longer stand on the sidelines.  We have to preach the message that Jesus preached even in the face of a world who would it seems rather not hear it.  Will you accept the position? The choice is yours.  We’re called to be salt.  We’re called to be light.  Most of all, we’re called to be who God calls us to be. 

I want to pay the highest compliment anyone could ever pay: You are the light of the world. You are the salt of the earth. You are the leven in the loaf. So, go and be light.  Go and be salt.  Go and be leven. (Marcus Borg…who admitted he stole it from William Sloan Coffin)

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

All We Like Sheep

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Scripture Passage:  Psalm 78: 52-54

52Then he led out his people like sheep and guided them in the wilderness like a flock. 53He led them in safety, so that they were not afraid; but the sea overwhelmed their enemies. 54And he brought them to his holy hill, to the mountain that his right hand had won.

We tend to think of the wilderness as a place where we are sort of thrown out into virtually alone. We imagine wandering, looking for solace, looking for companionship, looking for someone to help us out of where we are. We search for God as if God is somehow parked at the exit of the wilderness holding a sign with our name on it as we disembark. And yet this psalm reminds us that even in the wilderness we are not alone, that God leads us and guides us through the treacherous terrain. There are times when God, as it says, guides us IN, wandering, living the wilderness. It says that we are led to safety and brought to a place that is holy, that is of God. So, why then, here in the wilderness, do we feel so alone?

We are accustomed to pastoral images in the Bible, beautiful images of the flock being led or shepherds on the hillside. We know what it is supposed to connote. The shepherd guides the sheep to the place where they will be well-fed and cared for, the place where they will grow and flourish into maturity. There is soft, green grass, blue skies, and other sheep in the fold to keep them company as they grow together. But this is not what it looks like right now. Where is the green grass? Where are the blue skies? Where are my trusty companions? And so, searching for our image of where a shepherd is supposed to lead, we leave to look for greener pastures or easier pathways. But the grass isn’t really greener, the skies really aren’t any clearer, and in our confusion, we fall, tumbling down the gulley, bruised and tired.

As we have said before, the wilderness is not just something to rush through. God does not always lead us out of the desolation that surrounds us. As the passage says, God leads us through or in the wilderness, helping us navigate the rough paths and the difficult sightlines and, when the time is right, bringing us home. Our problem is that we don’t envision ourselves like sheep because we are trying so hard to be the shepherd of our own lives, to be in control, to be the guide. We are afraid of losing control of our lives. And so, we often wander away and get lost. We may end up in a place that is not ours to be. But think about sheep. Sheep are seldom characterized as one of the smartest beings on the farm and yet, sheep know to whom they belong. Sheep know how to follow. Sheep know how to be part of a flock, holding each other up, helping each other see the shepherd. And when, as happens every now and then, a sheep gets lost, the sheep trusts that the shepherd will come and bring the sheep home.

Lent is a season that teaches us to be more like sheep, to follow God through the wilderness, learning the things that it teaches, accepting the things that it offers, and knowing, that, when it is time, God will guide us out of this lostness, out of despair, out of the loneliness.  You don’t have to fix it; you don’t have to hurry; you don’t have to make it something it is not.  Just follow.  Just live.  But by following God’s lead, we will see beauty we have never seen and companionship we have never known.  That’s what you get when you’re part of a flock. The promise is that, when the time is right, we WILL be led home.

God…leads us step by step, from event to event.  Only afterwards, as we look back over the way we have come and reconsider certain important moments in our lives in the light of all that has followed them, or when we survey the whole progress of our lives, do we experience the feeling of having been led without knowing it, the feeling that God has mysteriously guided us. (Paul Tournier)

Grace and Peace,

 Shelli

Entering This Wilderness Week

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?????????????Scripture Text:  Mark 11: 1-11

When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples 2and said to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. 3If anyone says to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.’” 4They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, 5some of the bystanders said to them, “What are you doing, untying the colt?” 6They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it. 7Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. 8Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. 9Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting, “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! 10Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!” 11Then 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.

 

Here we are—bustling city, Passover festival, and a parade!  It seems that we’re not in the wilderness anymore!  As Jesus comes into Jerusalem, there is excitement and joy.  He is here!  And they honor him.  But, to be honest, we probably read a little bit more into this parade than is there.  From the time I was little, I had this sense that Jesus came into the middle of the city, flanked by the all of the crowds.  He was “it.”  (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.  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.  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 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.  Instead, God slips in through the back door of our wilderness lives when we sometimes barely notice and makes a home with us.

So the onlookers stay around for just a little while.  And then the 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.  The wilderness through which we’ve traveled is behind us.  But it has prepared us for a new wilderness of sorts.  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.  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.  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.

Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass.. it’s about learning to dance in the rain. (Vivian Greene)

FOR TODAY: Keep walking. Keep following. There is no way around. Walk with Jesus all the way to the Cross. For there, you will find life.

Grace and Peace,

Shelli