Jesus

THE WAY OF THE CROSS: Just Within the Gates

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

(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

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

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

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

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

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

Station I:  Jesus is condemned

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Station II:  Jesus takes up his cross

Scripture: John 19: 16-17

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

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

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

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

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

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

Station III:  Jesus falls the first time

Scripture:  Matthew 27: 27-31

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Sanctuary

shelliwilliams Breathing Out Series , , , ,

(part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

Scripture Text: Luke 19: 41-44

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      Grace and Peace,

      Shelli

      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

      shelliwilliams Breathing Out Series , , ,

      (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

      Water Into Wine

      shelliwilliams Breathing Out Series , ,

      (part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

      Remains of first-century city of Capernaum, February, 2010

      Scripture Text:  John 2: 1-11

      On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. 2Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. 3When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” 4And Jesus said to her, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” 5His mother said to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” 6Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons. 7Jesus said to them, “Fill the jars with water.” And they filled them up to the brim. 8He said to them, “Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward.” So they took it. 9When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom 10and said to him, “Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now.” 11Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.

      So, more taking stock…remember this day?  Remember the wedding where the newly-baptized Jesus who had not yet really started doing all the things he did suddenly performed his first miracle?  But, in an infinitely obvious clue that Jesus was human, his mother made him do it.  That was always a little odd and somehow refreshing to me.  I mean, Jesus didn’t just walk out of the manger and begin being Jesus.  He was fully human…growing up, probably getting in trouble, worrying his parents, and obeying what they said or at least fulfilling what they desired.  Jesus was the Messiah.  But he was also Mary’s son.  So, he had to go get more supplies for the gathering. Because that’s what good sons do!

      So, a little background…According to the Mishnah (which is sort of the oral tradition of Judaism based on the understanding of Scripture), a wedding would take place on a Wednesday if the bride was a virgin and on a Thursday if she was a widow. The bridegroom and his friends made their way in procession to the bride’s house. This was often done at night, when there could be a spectacular torchlight procession. There would be speeches and expressions of goodwill before the bride and groom went in procession to the groom’s house, where the wedding banquet was held. It is probable that there was some sort of religious ceremony, but we have no details. The processions and the feast are the principal items of which we have knowledge. The feast was prolonged, and might last as long as a week (so, OK, that would be quite a lot of wine!).

      So, Mary, the mother of Jesus, is at the wedding, although her role seems to be more than that of a guest. She seems to at least have some responsibility for everything that is going on. Perhaps the couple was an extended family member or something.  But she seems to be one of the first to know that the wine is running out. She instructs the servants to do whatever Jesus tells them to do, and they appear willing to take her instructions.

      Now you have to understand that this was an embarrassing situation.  The wine has run out, and there appears to be no solution.  Either no more wine is available, or there is no money to buy more wine. The guests seem unaware of what is happening. If something is not done, all will be embarrassed. Some commentators even inform us that litigation was possible in such cases. (Can you imagine being sued for not providing enough food and drink at a marriage ceremony?)  But, regardless, it is clear that Jesus’ mother expects Jesus to do something out of the ordinary.  She expects him to fix the problem.

      But I think there’s something else in this story.  Think about the wine itself.  It begins as ordinary grapes.  Well, not really.  If you go even farther back, you start with water.  Remember, everything starts with water.  And then those ordinary grapes with just the right amount of water, the right amount of sunlight, and the right amount of nutrients fed to them from the rich, dark earth begin to seed.  And then we wait, we wait for them to grow and flourish and at just the right time, they are picked and processed and strained of impurities and all of those things that are not necessary.  And then they are bottled and tucked away while again, we wait.  They are placed in just the right temperature, with just the right amount of light, and just the right amount of air quality and environment, and we wait some more.  We wait and until it becomes…well, a miracle.

      So, using wine to depict a miracle is not all that unusual.  The Bible is full of wine.  In fact, no single plant or product is mentioned more frequently than the vine and its fruit.  There are over 200 uses of wine itself.  It is used as a symbol of abundance and blessing.  When Moses pronounced God’s blessing in Deuteronomy, the words were “[God] will love you, and bless you, and multiply you; [God] will also bless…the fruit of your ground, your grain and your wine and your oil.”  The Book of Isaiah talks about the vineyard and its grapes to depict the world as it should be, as God envisions it.  And often a surplus of wine is taken to depict the coming of the Messianic Age, such as the words from Amos, “The time is surely coming, says the Lord, when…the mountains shall drip sweet wine, and all the hills shall flow with it.”  Wine is used to talk about sharing, about hospitality, and even about peace.

      And Biblical theologians have over and over pointed to the relationship that this story has with the Eucharist.  Think about it.  We take ordinary bread and ordinary wine, and through what we can only describe as a Holy Mystery, a veritable miracle, those ordinary things become holy.  They become for us the body and blood of Christ, the very essence of Christ to us, for us, and in us.  It’s not a magical conversion.  We still believe that they are bread and wine.  But God’s Spirit has made them this incredible sustenance that we need.

      And remember that when the wine ran out, Jesus did not conjure up fresh flagons of wine.  A miracle is not about fixing something or turning something into what it was not; a miracle is about making something new.  So, Jesus took what was there, those ordinary, perhaps even abandoned vessels of ordinary, everyday water and turned it into a holy and sacred gift.  Water and a miracle…

      So, this story of wine makes a little more sense.  Wine is water—plus a miracle.  It is a story of Jesus fulfilling even the smallest of needs, of God infusing grace into our ordinary lives if we will only trust that that will happen.  But there’s more.  In case it is lost on us, remember that our own bodies are roughly two-thirds water.  Do you remember that from biology?  No wonder the ancient sages always used water as a symbol for matter itself.  Humans, they taught, are a miraculous combination of matter and Spirit—water and a miracle—and thus unique in all of creation.  No wonder that wine is such a powerful, sacramental, and universal symbol of the natural world—illumined and uplifted by the Divine.  Wine is water, plus spirit, a unique nectar of the Divine, a symbol of life.

      And we, ordinary water-filled vessels (remember, we’re like 80% water or something) though we are, are no different.  God takes the created matter that is us, those incredible bodies that have been created from in the very waters of life, and, just as God has done before, moves over the water and breathes Spirit into us, breathes life into us.  We, too, are water plus a miracle.  Christ’s Spirit is infused into us, living in us.  13th century German mystic Meister Eckhart said that “every creature is a word of God.”  It’s another way of reminding us that we are water plus a miracle.  So, breathe out the you that was, the you that you thought you should be, that the world told you to be.  And breathe in the miracle that is you.  After all, you are water plus a miracle—created matter plus the Spirit of God.

      So maybe this story of Jesus’ first miracle is not as odd as we thought.  Our lectionary places it immediately following the remembrance of Jesus’ baptism and the remembrance of our own.  It is the point where God’s Spirit, where the holy and sacred itself, was poured into each of us.  So, yes, we are a miracle, created matter, Spirit-breathed.  We are the good wine that God has saved for now.  We are water plus a miracle.

      And, notice, this passage begins with a very familiar phrase: “On the third day…” On the third day, there was a miracle…I don’t know, I guess God knew what was going to happen all along.  It’s water, the very basis of creation, plus a miracle.

      “We hear of…water into wine…as a miracle.  But this conversion is, through the goodness of God, made every day before our eyes.  Behold the rain which descends from heaven upon our vineyards, and which incorporates itself with the grapes, to be changed into wine; a constant proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy.” (Benjamin Franklin)

      Grace and Peace,

      Shelli

      Seeing Jesus

      shelliwilliams Breathing Out Series , , , ,

      (part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

      Scripture Text:  John 12: 20-33

      Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.  “Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, “An angel has spoken to him.” Jesus answered, “This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die. The crowd answered him, “We have heard from the law that the Messiah remains forever. How can you say that the Son of Man must be lifted up? Who is this Son of Man?” Jesus said to them, “The light is with you for a little longer. Walk while you have the light, so that the darkness may not overtake you. If you walk in the darkness, you do not know where you are going. While you have the light, believe in the light, so that you may become children of light.” After Jesus had said this, he departed and hid from them.

      And now the conversation begins turns to this talk of death and loss.  We know we’re getting closer, that the tide is beginning to turn.  But we’re not sure.  We’re not sure that our journey really prepared us at all.  But we need to start talking about it.

      The reading starts by telling us of the arrival of some Greeks. Now this may seem to us to be sort of periphery to the point of the story but it’s not. For you see, this arrival of the Greeks is something new. It marks the beginning of an entirely new section of the Gospel. These are not merely Greek-speaking Jews, but Gentiles who have made the pilgrimage to Jerusalem for the Passover feast. These are non-Jews, Gentiles from across the sea who wanted to meet the Hebrew holy man. This is the beginning of the world seeing Jesus and knowing who he is.  They approach Philip and request to “see” Jesus, to have a meeting with him. Perhaps they want to know more of who this Jesus is. Perhaps they just want to talk to him. Or perhaps they want to become disciples. But regardless of why they are here, their arrival points to the fulfillment of the church’s future mission—to make disciples of Jesus Christ for the redemption of the world, to see Jesus. This is the decisive dividing line between Jesus coming as a Jewish Messiah and Christ, through his death and resurrection, fulfilling God’s promise for the renewal and redemption of all of Creation. Now is the time for the Son of Man to be glorified.  Jesus did not just come to save you and me.  Remember, Jesus is the Savior of the World, to show God to the world.  Jesus has begun to draw the world into the Cross.

      Change is all around us.  No, not all of it is good right now.  Our world seems to be shaking a bit—war, growing economic worries, divisiveness, escalating disregard for the “other”, even a new “acceptable” racism, an “acceptable” xenophobia, an “acceptable” homophobia, an “acceptable” hatred toward those with whom we share this world, and even more war.  It’s scary.  Sure, we could run, go back to our old ways, to the comfort and safety of home.  We could yell and scream and demand that someone put it back the way it was.  The problem is that nothing stays the same.  Even if we could return, it would not feel like home.  For you see, this journey has changed us.  We walk this season of clearing and surrender and then we realize that this season never really ends.  We are different.  We don’t look different but we do see differently.  Jesus has taught us how to see.

      But what is this thing with wheat?  (OK, to the end, Jesus seemed to continue speaking in confusing parables!)  Well, wheat is a caryopsis, meaning that the outer “seed” and the inner fruit are connected. The seed essentially has to die so that the fruit can emerge. If you were to dig around in the ground and uproot a stalk of wheat, you would not find the original seed. It is dead and gone. In essence, the grain must allow itself to be changed.  So, what Jesus is trying to tell us here is that if we do everything in our power to protect our lives the way they are—if we successfully thwart change, avoid conflict, prevent pain—then at the end we will find that we have no life at all.  He goes on…” Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. And whoever does this, God will honor.” This is the only time that the Gospel speaks of God honoring someone. And we begin to see the connection unfolding. Whoever follows Jesus through his death, will become part of his everlasting life.

      You see, we can’t go back to what we know because it is no longer ours.  The Light has become part of us.  Jesus wanted us to understand not just that he was leaving soon, not just that his death was imminent, but that this journey to the cross was not just his to make, but ours. This lifting up and this drawing in is all ours.  We ARE the Children of the Light.  Now is the time to walk with Jesus to the cross.  Now is the time to see Jesus.

      The season is continuing on.  What we know is coming seems to move toward us faster, overwhelming us.  Now is the time to see Jesus.  So, breathe out—breathe out that tendency to want to go back, to retreat, no matter how hard life is, no matter what the world throws at you.  And breathe in—breathe in allowing yourself to be changed, to grow, to step forward and be the very image of Christ in the world.  Breathe in the presence of Jesus.

      Discipleship is not limited to what you can understand – it must transcend all comprehension. Plunge into the deep waters beyond your own understanding, and I will help you to comprehend. Bewilderment is the true comprehension. Not to know where you are going is the true knowledge. In this way Abraham went forth from his father, not knowing where he was going. That is the way of the cross. You cannot find it in yourself, so you must let me lead you as though you were a blind man. Not the work which you choose, not the suffering you devise, but the road which is contrary to all that you choose or contrive or desire – that is the road you must take. It is to this path that I call you, and in this sense that you must be my disciple. (Martin Luther)

      Grace and Peace,

      Shelli

      Kaleidoscope

      shelliwilliams Breathing Out Series , , ,

      (part of the “Breathing Out” Lenten Series)

      Scripture Passage:  John 9: 1-12 (13-41) (Lent 4A)

      As he walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man’s eyes, saying to him, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see.  The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, “Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?” Some were saying, “It is he.” Others were saying, “No, but it is someone like him.” He kept saying, “I am the man.” But they kept asking him, “Then how were your eyes opened?” He answered, “The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ Then I went and washed and received my sight.” They said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I do not know.”

      Go and wash.  It sounds so simple.  So, there must be something fishy about it, right?  Inherently, we are just distrusting creatures, are we not? It’s interesting that the first thing that people address here is sin. The man has been apparently blind from birth and their first thought is sin? Did he commit the sin? What an odd question! Was he supposed to have committed some sin in the womb that was apparently terrible enough to blind him for life? Or did his parents sin? It’s an odd line of questioning to us. They see a man that has missed out on so much of what life holds, that has never seen what you and I take for granted every day, and they immediately want to know what he did wrong or what his parents did wrong to deserve that.  (Ok, now don’t get too self-righteous about our own reaction.  We do the same thing.  I mean, what went wrong in that person’s life?  It must have been SOMEONE’S fault.  What did they do wrong to deserve that thing that happened to them?)

      But Jesus doesn’t see a sinner; Jesus doesn’t even see a blind man; Jesus sees a child of God. And so, he reaches down into the cool dirt and picks up a piece of the earth, a tiny chunk of Creation. He then spits into his hand and lovingly works the concoction into a sort of paste. And then, it says, he spreads the mud into the man’s eyes and tells him to go wash in the Pool of Siloam. And the man’s eyes were opened and he saw what had been always hidden from his view.

      We love this story.  But there are so many that ask why we don’t hear accounts of healing such as this.  Maybe it’s because we’re looking for miracles with ordinary eyes, with the eyes of our world that need to explain and extract.  Maybe it’s because we do not see something new.  At the risk of destroying the story for you, does the blindness have to be physical?  It never says that, nor does it say that the blind man was “fixed” or “cured”.  If it wasn’t a physical healing, would that lessen the story?  How miraculous it is for someone to see in a different way, to open one’s vision to what God has envisioned for us.

      I couldn’t help (again) but think of the Wizard of Oz.  You see, everyone imagined what they would find–courage, heart, mind, and home–imagined what it would look like, how it would come.  But the curtain was torn back and revealed that the miracle-worker was part of this world.  He was just an ordinary person.  So how could he give them courage, heart, mind, and home?  It had to do with seeing what is hidden from view.

      Faith is as much about showing us our blindness, our darkness, as it is about bringing us light. For that is the way we see as God sees. It is a way of seeing anew, seeing beauty we’ve never seen before, seeing the Way of Christ. Rainer Maria Rilke once said that “the work of the eyes is done. Go now and do the heart-work on the images imprisoned within you.” That is the work of faith—to release us from our spiritual blindness, from our old way of seeing, frozen in time, and to light the way for a vision of eternity.  We are called to see that which is hidden from view.  It is the work that allows us to see, finally, what has always been hidden from view.  You see (pun intended), it is time for the heart-work.

      I love this passage.  I’ve always wondered if it was referring to a restoration of sight or a restoration of vision.  I think it’s a little similar to a kaleidoscope.  When you look through it, you see the brilliance of the color panels against each other.  But when you twist it, the panels move against each other and more patterns begin to emerge.  And you have to adjust the way you see it.  You have to refocus.  And, yet, we are often content to live our life merely scanning the horizon of what is.  We might as well be opening our eyes underwater in a place where we can discern colors and shapes but not really see them at all.  What does it take to restore our vision, to really see all that there is to see?  So, for now, breathe out—breathe out the way you scan your life seeing just enough to swiftly navigate the road and move on.  And then stop…breathe in…breathe in a new vision.  Take the time to look at the world, to learn to see the way God sees, valuing each and every detail.  It’s a veritable kaleidoscope of riches.

      The rare moment is not the moment when there is something worth looking at, but the moment when we are capable of seeing. (Joseph Wood Krutch)

      Grace and Peace,

      Shelli