Another Rube Goldberg type contraption...with a twist.
Imagine, if you dare
Tim Wise plays a game called "Imagine." As in, Imagine if the Tea Party were mostly black instead of overwhelmingly white. Imagine how our response to it would change.Let’s play a game, shall we? The name of the game is called “Imagine.” The way it’s played is simple: we’ll envision recent happenings in the news, but then change them up a bit. Instead of envisioning white people as the main actors in the scenes we’ll conjure - the ones who are driving the action - we’ll envision black folks or other people of color instead. The object of the game is to imagine the public reaction to the events or incidents, if the main actors were of color, rather than white. Whoever gains the most insight into the workings of race in America, at the end of the game, wins.Sara and Brian Brandsmeier at "Ephphatha Poetry (where I found this) writes that Tim Wise is a prominent anti-racist writer and activist who has spoken in 48 states, on over 400 college campuses, and to community groups around the nation. Wise has provided anti-racism training to teachers nationwide, and has trained physicians and medical industry professionals on how to combat racial inequities in health care. His latest book is called Between Barack and a Hard Place.
So let’s begin.
Imagine that hundreds of black protesters were to descend upon Washington DC and Northern Virginia, just a few miles from the Capitol and White House, armed with AK-47s, assorted handguns, and ammunition. And imagine that some of these protesters —the black protesters — spoke of the need for political revolution, and possibly even armed conflict in the event that laws they didn’t like were enforced by the government? Would these protester — these black protesters with guns — be seen as brave defenders of the Second Amendment, or would they be viewed by most whites as a danger to the republic? What if they were Arab-Americans? Because, after all, that’s what happened recently when white gun enthusiasts descended upon the nation’s capital, arms in hand, and verbally announced their readiness to make war on the country’s political leaders if the need arose.
Imagine that white members of Congress, while walking to work, were surrounded by thousands of angry black people, one of whom proceeded to spit on one of those congressmen for not voting the way the black demonstrators desired. Would the protesters be seen as merely patriotic Americans voicing their opinions, or as an angry, potentially violent, and even insurrectionary mob? After all, this is what white Tea Party protesters did recently in Washington.
Imagine that a rap artist were to say, in reference to a white president: “He’s a piece of shit and I told him to suck on my machine gun.” Because that’s what rocker Ted Nugent said recently about President Obama.
Read the rest here
A Century With and Without Mark Twain
Yesterday was the centennial of Mark Twain's death, with Halley's Comet in the sky. In the years since his death, his writings have been swept aside and minimized by critics from Van Wyck Brooks to Charles Neider (who, in fairness, loved Twain, but reduced him to an anecdotist). But they don't stay gone. Like Halley's Comet itself, Twain's words come back to us when we need them--when we have lost touch with our own inner sense, we turn to Twain's the War Prayer to right ourselves, or Huckleberry Finn, or the Gilded Age, or--well, you get my point.
A century since he died, and yet books from his hand continue to issue--soon, his Autobiography will at long last be published--just as Twain predicted. I wrote my senior thesis on the Autobiography, and tried to get a sense of it from the fragments published in various fora and formats over the years. I look forward to that thesis's coming obsolescence.
Twain was a genius on the platform--and, sadly, no trace remains. Here's his foremost interpreter, Hal Holbrook, with a taste.
A century since he died, and yet books from his hand continue to issue--soon, his Autobiography will at long last be published--just as Twain predicted. I wrote my senior thesis on the Autobiography, and tried to get a sense of it from the fragments published in various fora and formats over the years. I look forward to that thesis's coming obsolescence.
Twain was a genius on the platform--and, sadly, no trace remains. Here's his foremost interpreter, Hal Holbrook, with a taste.
Separation Anxiety
Now that several of the Global South churches have declared themselves out of communion with TEC and the Anglican Church of Canada, there is no hope of avoiding schism. It's here.
In some ways, this may not be the worst result--the increasing vitriol which I have previously noted suggests that a little space between us may be just what is necessary. But, after much thought, I'd like to point something out to all concerned, including me:
Grow up, can we please?
People, there are three possibilities, here, if you believe, as I do, that the Holy Spirit makes things clear over time:
1. TEC is right on the presenting issues, and in one generation, maybe two, most of those in ACNA contingent will realize this, repent of their stubbornness, and communion will be restored;
2. ACNA and Co. are right, in one generation, maybe two, most of those in TEC will see this, and will repent and return to tradition, and TEC will wither, but Anglicanism will survive in a new form;
3. We're both wrong, at least in part. A third thing we can't predict will rise out of the ashes.
Obviously, anyone who's read this page before know my guess is No. 1. But--and here's a phrase I'd like to see more often--I could be wrong. So what are my duties in this time of division and discord?
First and foremost, not to increase the hostility and complicate the work of the Holy Spirit.
That is why I've taken a hiatus from TEC/Communion blogging, and why this post is not about justifying my beliefs. The moment of separation is here; my opinion on the root causes is not relevant now. What is relevant is trying to make the separation as little traumatic as possible for both sides. We all need to show some faith in God to make His will known.
By squabbling like would-be action heroes, many in the Anglican blogosphere are increasing the anxiety. And Church leaders too. We need patience and firmness both. That is why I believe the Diocese of Central New York erred in selling the Church of the Good Shepherd. I hold no brief for Fr. Kennedy, but I would have rented him the church, at cost of maintenance, on the condition that he agree to make spiritual provision for faithful TEC members. The need to vindicate title was real; the sale savors of spite, even if there is a fair reason for it of which I am not aware.
I make this point against my own "side" because it's critical in my opinion that we face up to the fact that no party in a drawn-out, emotionally fraught engagement will always act from its best self. We have plenty of guilt on our side of the street.
What to do about ongoing crises? First, we vindicate the principle of legal ownership under the trusts established at common law and codified under the Dennis Canon. However, beyond that point of law, I would suggest the fullowing approach, which I as I suggested in November, 2007:
[Edited and revised]
In some ways, this may not be the worst result--the increasing vitriol which I have previously noted suggests that a little space between us may be just what is necessary. But, after much thought, I'd like to point something out to all concerned, including me:
Grow up, can we please?
People, there are three possibilities, here, if you believe, as I do, that the Holy Spirit makes things clear over time:
1. TEC is right on the presenting issues, and in one generation, maybe two, most of those in ACNA contingent will realize this, repent of their stubbornness, and communion will be restored;
2. ACNA and Co. are right, in one generation, maybe two, most of those in TEC will see this, and will repent and return to tradition, and TEC will wither, but Anglicanism will survive in a new form;
3. We're both wrong, at least in part. A third thing we can't predict will rise out of the ashes.
Obviously, anyone who's read this page before know my guess is No. 1. But--and here's a phrase I'd like to see more often--I could be wrong. So what are my duties in this time of division and discord?
First and foremost, not to increase the hostility and complicate the work of the Holy Spirit.
That is why I've taken a hiatus from TEC/Communion blogging, and why this post is not about justifying my beliefs. The moment of separation is here; my opinion on the root causes is not relevant now. What is relevant is trying to make the separation as little traumatic as possible for both sides. We all need to show some faith in God to make His will known.
By squabbling like would-be action heroes, many in the Anglican blogosphere are increasing the anxiety. And Church leaders too. We need patience and firmness both. That is why I believe the Diocese of Central New York erred in selling the Church of the Good Shepherd. I hold no brief for Fr. Kennedy, but I would have rented him the church, at cost of maintenance, on the condition that he agree to make spiritual provision for faithful TEC members. The need to vindicate title was real; the sale savors of spite, even if there is a fair reason for it of which I am not aware.
I make this point against my own "side" because it's critical in my opinion that we face up to the fact that no party in a drawn-out, emotionally fraught engagement will always act from its best self. We have plenty of guilt on our side of the street.
What to do about ongoing crises? First, we vindicate the principle of legal ownership under the trusts established at common law and codified under the Dennis Canon. However, beyond that point of law, I would suggest the fullowing approach, which I as I suggested in November, 2007:
As to personnel and property, I think we should take a nuanced position:One revision to point 2: I'd favor renting over sale, now, and shared space for both congregations whenever possible, to keep lines of communication open. Again, sometimes hostility would be too intense for this to be viable, but the goal is to remind ourselves and our critics that we are all followers of Jesus Christ, and to make room for the Holy Spirit to work.
1. Any clergy who does not apply to be released or transfer from the Episcopal Church should be deposed. Any clergy who applies, in proper form, for release or transfer should be granted it.
2. Any parish that seeks to leave as a unit should be denied such permission--people may leave, the parish remains. However, where there is such a supermajority of departing members and clergy, that the parish structure is temporarily not viable, the departing members and clergy should be encouraged to negotiate a lend-lease arrangement with the diocese such that services may continue during negotiations for both departing members and remaining members while negotiations go on over transition or sale of the property. (In other words, if the option is the historic church becomes a night club, sell it to the [departing members--I regret my original word choice of schismatics]--better them than the Limelight; use the proceds to build smaller churches for our continuing members).
3. Restrict litigation to those parishes where the remaining Episcopal membership is viable, or no such negotiations can be pursued due to the "reasserters" refusal to bargain in good faith. Offer mediation before suing.
4. Depose any bishops who purport to take a diocese out of TEC. Period. If they seek release or transfer, be gracious. Treat parishes within their bishoprics on a case-by-case basis--loyal parishoners must be protected, and supported. It is not sufficient to tell them to saddle their own horses. (Pace Bonnie Anderson). TEC must make sure that every loyal congregant is reached out to and provided with a place of worship.
5. If these steps (especially 4) require us to reduce our cooperative efforts internationally, that is regrettable, but we should do so. But we maintain our anti-poverty programs as a top priority; if we cut funding, cut Lambeth and other ecclesiastical subsidiaries first. We cut any support to church structure in provinces invading us. We send missionaries to such locations to sustain our brothers and sisters in such nations.
6. No more "fasting" from Anglican bodies' meetings. We show up, mindful of C.P. Snow's dictum, "Never be too proud to be present." We advocate for our members, and our brothers and sisters worldwide. If they expel us, so be it. We ally with Canada, Wales, anyone else who does not walk from us. But we do not sit passive while other provinces presume to sit in judgment of us.
7. Finally, we remain open--always!--to reconciliation.
[Edited and revised]
Only essential crap here.
When I see the words "church," "Jesus" and "crap" all on one billboard, it gets my attention.This billboard has been seen around the Poconos advertising something called "innovationchurch" which used to be the "Lighthouse World Center of Prayer" and before that "Assembly of God Church".
At the end of the driveway going into innovationchurch facility, there are two large cement columns. When they were an Assembly of God, there were two eagles on top of the posts. When they were the Lighthouse World Center of Prayer, they replaced the eagles with lighthouses. Now each pillar sports a colored cubes with an "i" on it.
What really caught my attention, though, is the fine print.
It says: "Less crap. More Jesus."
Really.
I don't know what they are not offering at this church, and they must have tossed out a lot of stuff in all that re-branding; but now we know, it was all "crap."
From their own web site, here is what they believe:
The four essential "core" beliefs that we believe are the heart of the Christian faith are: the authority of the scriptures; the deity of Christ; the atonement through the cross and the return of Christ.Pretty standard stuff for American Protestant evangelicalism for the past century. Now here is what is not so important to them:
Types of church governments; end-times teachings; the gifts of the Spirit; styles of church leadership; denominationalism; deliverance ministry; the Lord’s supper; healing ministry; and infant baptism. Of course there are many more, but typically when Christians have become divisive over these beliefs it is because they are confusing non-essential beliefs with core beliefs.Okilee-dokilee. Still pretty standard American Protestant fare.
And, look! The web site says that we should not judge one another and deal with each other in love,
Finally and most importantly, in all our beliefs we show love…Which is why we call everything we don't like "crap."
Palate Cleanser
There's still more horrors out of the Vatican today, but I need a break. Something wholesome. Like Nero:
What, you you were expecting someone else?
What, you you were expecting someone else?
A word is worth a thousand pictures
Easter Sunday, 2010There are times when words are worth a thousand pictures.
Today’s Gospel is a good example.
“I have seen the Lord!” With these simple words that Mary Magdalene brings to the other disciples of Jesus, everything is changed.
There are no caveats like “You won’t believe this but…” There is no “I think” or “maye” and no defensiveness in these words. Here is what happened: “I have seen the Lord!”
These are the words of a person who has experienced something so amazing, so wondrous, so real and so unexpected that all pretension has fallen away. These are the words of a person who has met the Risen Christ. “I have seen the Lord!”
When we say it during every liturgy through the fifty days of Easter we say it another way. We say “Alleluia! Christ is risen!” And we answer “He is risen indeed. Alleluia!” But try to imagine when we say this that we aren’t in church full of people but one of two people who meet in the street. Imagine that you cannot contain yourself. “Alleluia! (or praise the Lord!) Christ is risen!” And the answer is “He is risen indeed” (or “You betcha!") Alleluia! (Praise the Lord!)”
Now imagine yourself walking around the mall or going to their house and saying to your friends or family “I have seen the Lord!” Go ahead, try it. “I have seen the Lord!”
Oh! You sound so sure right now, but getting there was tough, wasn’t it? Took a little coaxing, didn’t it?
Mary’s journey was not so easy either. In John’s Gospel we hear only of Mary Magdalene coming to the tomb, not the other women mentioned in the other three Gospels. John tells us in the most detail how it was that she brought the news of the Risen Jesus to the apostles. She was truly a disciple of Jesus. A disciple is a friend and apprentice of Jesus Christ. She was a friend—a person who knew Jesus and a person Jesus knew well. Jesus healed her and she became his follower. Tradition gives her the role as a prostitute, and you may have heard about her in a novel or movie or two.
Mary goes to the tomb, John does not say why, perhaps as the other Gospels say to care for the hastily buried body. She finds the tomb and the stone has been rolled away. She does not go in, but runs away. The first time she returns to the disciples, it is out of fear and distress mingled with grief. Here words are not assured but distressed: “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.”
When Mary Magdalene sees the empty tomb the first time, she assumes that the grave had been robbed and that the body was stolen. Notice also that the apostles are not expecting this news…they have to run to see this for themselves. The Beloved Disciple peeks in, then Peter steps into the tomb; then the Beloved Disciple goes in, as well. Peter knows the body is gone; the Beloved Disciple believes that Jesus is risen, but neither of them know what this means just yet. That is left for Mary Magdalene to discover.
John is telling us in these few sentences some important facts: One, Jesus’ body was not stolen by his followers (they did not expect nor understand the empty tomb); two, Jesus was not resuscitated like Lazarus (notice the burial clothes are left aside in the empty tomb, whereas with Lazarus was raised by Jesus, he came out of the tomb wearing his burial cloths.); and, third, he is not a spiritual being translated directly to heaven. Jesus is raised bodily from the dead, and in this Gospel it is Mary Magdalene who will discover that for the first time.
We also learn that the followers of Jesus were surprised that he was raised from the dead. They did not expect it. Up until now, Jewish ideas of resurrection (which were not universally agreed upon!) assumed a spiritual resurrection not a bodily one.
Because of the experience of these eyewitnesses, the early Christian concept of resurrection was completely different than the theories that came before it.
So it took Mary, not to mention Peter and the other disciples, a little while to wrap their arms around this experience. It was so different than what they expected. Once again, a word is worth a thousand pictures, when Jesus says to her gently“Mary!”
Now, she understands! Her friend and teacher is not dead—he is alive! His body is not stolen—he is right here! The grave is not desecrated—the grave and gate of death is burst open!
“Rabbi!” she says and she hugs him. Jesus tells her to go to the other disciples and tell them that he is going to his Father and our Father, his God and our God. The chasm between all of us and God is healed. The breach of sin has been closed. We are now God’s one, undivided family.
Seeing, and holding and talking to the Risen Jesus changes everything. Mary, this woman who was so tentative, and so weighed with grief, now goes to the disciples, bursts in on them and announces “I have seen the Lord!”
Say it with me: “I have seen the Lord!”
Where have you seen the Lord?
Certainly in this community, gathered for worship, for ministry and service, for teaching and learning and in care for one another. Time and again, in beautiful worship, shared meals, quiet moments of prayer and companionship, in good times and in hard times, this gathered people have shown the risen Lord to each other and to the people outside these four walls. We say “we have seen the Lord” with every meal shared in the Soup Kitchen, when we welcome the addicted into our midst and when we open our church for music and fellowship. In all we do, we show more than a thousand pictures ever could that the Lord lives.
We have seen the Lord when we find that our gifts for service are raised up and used in great ways. We have seen the Lord when we are comforted in our grief, supported in our difficulties and transformed in our learning and growth. We have seen the Lord as our creativity is called out, and when we give our hearts to God in prayer.
“I have seen the Lord!”
Mary’s meeting of the Risen Jesus in the empty tomb shows us that whatever happens in our life, there is the Risen Lord. Everything that separates us from God has died on the cross and is left in the grave. Whatever weighs us down is taken away. Whatever tries to smother hope, is removed forever. Whatever deals death in your life, no longer has power over you.
In so many great and little ways, at the moments of our deepest need, the wounded, crucified, and risen Jesus meets us exactly where we are, in exactly the way we need. And when we look past our tears and our grief and whatever weighs us down, there he is: Our friend; Our teacher; Our risen Lord and savior.
“I have seen the Lord!”
You see? Words are worth a thousand pictures.
The new first day
Easter Vigil, 2010Until now this was the empty day.
This is the seventh day. The day, we are told in Genesis, when God rested after creating everything. But if you read the Passion Story, it seems as if everything God has planned for Creation and for we creatures has completely unraveled.
Last Sunday we celebrated Jesus entry into Jerusalem in triumph. He came in through the servant’s entrance; not in the front way with an impressive procession of flags and trumpets and military hardware like the Roman governor, but through the service entrance riding on a donkey adorned with cloaks and his way paved with palms to show off his humility. It looked like God’s plan was to set up a new regime. It looked as if God was preparing to throw the bums out. But as we saw last Sunday and all through this Holy Week, things would unravel quickly.
After challenging both the power of the government and kind of religion that divided people into levels of worthiness, Jesus is betrayed, arrested, mocked, beaten, paraded around as a mockery and then finally tortured and executed. What was supposed to be the beginning of a new era quickly unraveled into disarray and chaos.
So unlike that first Seventh Day in Genesis, when God was finished bringing order out of chaos, this seventh day is the day after chaos. This seventh day has been the day after death seemed to end it all for Jesus. This seventh day was not a day of rest but has become a day of emptiness.
Until now. Until this moment.
Now we have seen light gradually replace darkness. Now we have seen life arise out of death. What looked to us like a Seventh day of dead hopes and disillusionment has become a night of light What seemed like a wasteland of solitude is now an encounter with a creating, renewing, saving God. While we were sleeping, caught up in our loss, God has been healing creation.
The Apostle Paul says in his first letter to the Corinthians, that people are in Christ are a new creation. The old has passed away behold the new has come. What we thought was the worst day of darkness and despair it turns out was the last day of the Old Creation, Easter, the third day, is the first day of a brand new creation. And we are a part of it.
As some of you know, I like the image of Christ on a rescue mission. This is probably because I spent a big chunk of my life working with and hanging around people who rescue or heal people for a living. You know, the kind of people who run into burning building or falling down mines when everyone else is racing to get out, and the kind of people who stay with the sick and the dying when everyone else stays away. But I like the image for another reason.
We human being have dug for ourselves a mighty deep hole. Our selfishness threatens this planet. We find new and different ways to isolate ourselves more and more from each other. We have the tools to create peace and prosperity, and we find new ways to make war and violence instead. Instead of God simply being angry at us for messing up, God instead chooses to come, be among us, identify with us, go into the darkest places of our hearts, of our psyche and our memory and he lifts us out of the tomb and grave and brings us home.
We may not want to be rescued. Like a horse that might run into the fire when the stable is ablaze, we may go the wrong way. But through the cross and his death, he has finds us in the place that we fear the most.
The resurrection of Jesus shows us that not only is the cost of sin paid by God; but, much more than that, we have been given new life, a new way of being. As Paul said, when we were baptized, we joined with Christ in his death. In our baptisms everything that was dead in us was buried with him and now we live him.
So when the women come to the tomb and find it empty, the angel that greets them is not kidding when he asks “why do you look for the living among the dead?” The living one is Christ. He is alive. He has conquered the power of sin and death.
Little do the women know that they are also the living searching among the dead. Because of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection, they—and we—are among the living. Until that moment, this was a sad, empty seventh day. But because Jesus is alive, it is now the first day of a brand new creation, and we who have died and raised with Christ, are alive to God in Christ Jesus.
If you have ever known emptiness, today is your day.
Holy Saturday, 2010If you have ever experienced your faith as being absent, today is your day.
If you have ever experienced deep emptiness from your soul to your bones, today is your day.
If you have ever known loss that cannot be filled, today is your day.
If you have ever discovered, as C.S. Lewis did, that grief feels very much like fear, then this is your day.
If you have ever gone through the motions because you don't know what else to do, this is your day.
Holy Saturday is a day very easy to jump over. Today is a gorgeous spring day. People are out planting flowers and going to the store to buy for Easter dinner. Easter dresses are being tried on and egg hunts in the parks are happening as we speak. The world is busy and alive, and here we are in a darkened church before a bare cross and it feels empty.
This is the kind of emptiness that any who has grieved the death of a loved one knows. It is like going through the motions at work, and confronting that first thanksgiving or Christmas or birthday knowing that the one we love is dead.
I will bet that the followers of Jesus had the most somber, depressing Passover meal on record. But if they are at all like a lot of people I know, they will have done it. They will have read the words, and eaten the bitter herbs and the lamb, because...because what else could they do? Even if it was by rote, it was something. Something to anchor. Something to hold on to when there was nothing else.
Holy Saturday is a day of absence, emptiness and numbness. If you have ever felt this way, this day is for you.
The thing about Holy Saturday that is special is that it is the last day of the Old Creation. It's just that we don't know that yet. Just as we won't know that we have passed through the darkest moments of our grief until we suddenly find ourselves feeling again. We won't know until we look backwards.
And here is the dreadful and true part of Holy Saturday. There is nothing we can do about it. All we can do is what I've said: slog through, go through the motions. We steer into the wave and hope that our boat is not swamped as it crashes over our heads.
But the feast tells us that as we wait, as we slog through our fear and emptiness, Easter is coming. The disciples did not know that yet. We never know when we are in it. But Easter is coming.
Our creeds and tradition say this is the time when Christ descended into hell and went among the dead. Holy Saturday reminds us that even in the emptiness, Christ is there. If we go down to Sheol, and walk among the dead, Christ is there. There is no place where we can go to escape God's love. But we don't know that now. We will know that tomorrow.
In the meantime, this day is for you.
Jumping into the pit
Good Friday, 2010Coming to the cross is frightening. Some people think it morbid that we Christians have this feast at all. They think we focus on death too much. So we are tempted, partly in response to this criticism, and partly due to our uneasiness to jump over the cross and talk only about the “happy parts” of Jesus’ life and ministry.
When I say that many Christians are tempted to focus on only the happy parts of the incarnation, I mean that is easy for us to focus on the Christmas images of a little baby in the manger on a gentle starry night with angels singing carols. And from there we want to jump straight to Easter, where the risen Jesus appears to his friends, the ultimate happy ending. Maybe we’ll pick up a healing or parable or two along the way, but it is very tempting to just jump over the hard parts.
The problem is that the faith that is nourished on just the "happy parts" is like a faith that only looks at the teachings of Jesus but not the miracles, or the words of Jesus that make us comfortable but not the ones that challenge. We are led to an incomplete understanding. We cannot have a living, breathing, nurturing relationship with such a two-dimensional Jesus. And certainly, a Jesus who is only a baby, or only a wise teacher, or only standing outside the empty tomb, is not a Jesus who can accompany us when we are hurting, afraid, lonely or in trouble. We are certainly not challenged by such a Jesus. These may be the place to start, but we can't stay there long. For if we do, there is no one to hear and answer our prayer or walk with us in all that life brings. We will never know the fullness of life in Christ.
Sooner or later, all of us have to come to the cross. If we are to really understand Christmas, if we are really to take hold of his teaching, and really understand the way God is at work in the world—and if we are really to take hold of the fullness of Easter—we must go to the cross.
The Episcopal Bishop of the American Churches in Europe, Pierre Whalon, recently described what he saw when he visited Haiti, months after the earthquake shattered that country and weeks after the first major relief efforts went home. Whalon described the devastation and the dislocation of the Haitian people. In particular, he described how he came across an open pit of bodies that people were also using as a heap into which they also dumped their household refuse.
If how we care for the dead is some indicator of the dignity we attach to the living, then this is a startling, horrifying picture. This is not some conquering enemy hiding the dead in mass unmarked graves. It was people co-mingling their own dead with their own trash. Bishop Whalon said that all he wanted to do was climb down into that pit and clear out the rubbish.
Giles Frasier, canon at St. Paul’s Cathedral, London, wrote this after he heard that story.
Christ jumps into the pit of death to claim even the grave for his victory. With this last act, the victory over death, Christ is the Lord of all. There are no corners of human experience that cannot be redeemed by his love.This is what God is doing when Jesus is crucified. Make no mistake. The God who came among us and lived and worked and played and loved as we did, died. On the cross, he was killed.
And in that death he took with him all of our suffering and all of our pain and all the ways we degrade and hurt and divide ourselves. He took them with him to the cross where they died with him. In his suffering, he takes on and identifies with our suffering. In his death, he goes to the places where we alone, divided, separated from God, each other and creation, and he pulls us out of the pit.
In our Baptismal Covenant, and in the Apostle’s Creed on which it is based, we say that we believe that Christ descended into hell. This means that we believe that there is no place, no dark corner of our hearts, no deep recess in our soul, no place in our past, where Christ cannot go. And there is no place he will not go to take our hand and pull us out of that pit of sorrow, or shame, or guilt or fear.
Frasier said:
Here we need to learn from the Eastern Churches. Macarius of Egypt puts it beautifully: “If the sun, being created, passes everywhere through windows and doors, even to the caves of lions and the holes of creeping creatures, and comes out without any harm, the more so does God and the Lord of everything enter caves and abodes in which death has settled.” God enters the pit of bodies, and emerges triumphant. Thanks be to God.As Jesus walks with us in our suffering, he also walks with us in our deep desire for healing, hope, justice and reconciliation. In the incarnation, Jesus takes everything it is to be fully and completely human: our frailty, our fears, our limitations, our hopes and our possibility. So for us to know fully what God offers us in Jesus Christ, we must go past the “happy parts” and know that in being born God takes on everything it means to be human, especially death.
Today I found this poem by Benedictine Oblate, Christopher Evans, which perfectly expresses the connection between the Incarnation we celebrate at Christmas and the crucifixion we contemplate tonight.
What God is This?
What God is this, who, bleeds and sweats,
as Mary mild is weeping?
Whom soldiers cheat by games of chance,
while passers curse in greeting?
Why hangs he high upon a tree,
court dog and eagle keeping?
Come far, come near: all nations hear:
the Word for us is pleading.
So see him broken, bruised, and bare,
on bended knee, adore him;
the King of kings creation frees,
let all the world draw near him.
This, this is Christ the King,
whom soldiers guard and robbers ring,
haste, haste, to him behold,
the man, the Son of Glory.
W. Christopher Evans ©2010
Jesus is a fool
Maundy Thursday, 2010April Fool’s Day is something of a high holy day in my household. Or at least it was when my kids lived at home. This was a day of reversals. When they were young, they started out with pranks like swapping the sugar in the bowl with salt, and the salt in the shaker with sugar. But as they grew older, they like to indulge in irony and the unexpected reversal. Like the time last year when Jamie called her mother and me in tears because of the awful haircut she gave herself and the terrible job the hairdresser did trying to fix it…not!
But when I noticed that April Fool’s Day this year corresponded with Maundy Thursday, I thought about cancelling the frivolous day, or at least postponing it. But then as I looked at the scriptures more closely and began to meditate on the what Jesus was doing in that upper room on that last supper before his crucifixion , I realized something important. Jesus is a fool.
By any sane standard of this world, Jesus is naïve and foolish. And his unexpected, foolish behavior highlights both what he is doing in the upper room and how God is at work in our lives.
All of Jesus’ friends and followers know that something is up. Something big. He has marched into Jerusalem, coming in not through the honored gate where Pilate would march in with his legions whenever he came up from Caesarea Philippi, but down from the Mount of Olives and in by way of the service entrance, the way of farmers, vendors and ordinary people. What kind of messiah underscores his humility? What kind of leader does he think he is? How foolish can you be?
He does not set up shop in some public place but makes forays to the temple, sometimes to teach, and once to overturn the tables and stalls of those who set up shop in the temple courtyard. He then retreats. Either to this upper room, as it is called, or to a garden in place called Gethsemane. Jesus is clearly not acting in the way a messiah should. Instead of embracing the temple, he tears it up and chases people away? What kind of a fool Is Jesus?
And then at the last supper, the same supper in the same upper room where Jesus breaks bread and pours out wine and says this bread and wine is his body and blood, he then gets on his knees and washes the disciples feet. This is not acting like a person who is in charge of the next revolution. What kind of messiah acts like a slave. This is sheer foolishness.
And after this, Jesus gives us a new commandment, one that will supersede even his great commandment: love one another as I have loved you.
Jesus is demonstrating that the way of God is the way of service. By washing the feet of his friends, he is showing them that God’s love is manifested in service that expects nothing in return. He talks about how God will be glorified and his moment of glory is near when Judas leaves the room to fetch the temple police.
The remarkable thing about the Passion is Jesus unswerving faithfulness; faithfulness to God and faithfulness to us.
Jesus apparently is not deterred by the stubbornness of his followers, or their thick headedness or their quarrelsomeness, or their demanding natures. He doesn’t get even when they slight him. He doesn’t make fun of their stupidity. He doesn’t sulk when ignored. He gets angry, sure, as we can see in the temple courtyard. He gets frustrated, yes, such as when his followers can’t seem to do the simplest task well. True, he despairs over the plight of his people, as he prays over Jerusalem. But he does not stay in that anger, he does not let his frustration define him. His despair motivates him and that despair is the gateway into deep compassion.
John makes a point in his Gospel of reminding us over and over again that Jesus and the Father are one, and that Jesus does the Father’s will and that everyone who does Jesus’ will does the Father’s will. And while his friends and apprentices are everything but faithful, Jesus does not return evil for evil. He does not give as good as he gets. Instead, Jesus breaks bread, pours out wine and washes feet. Jesus’ faithfulness is not a zero-sum game: he remains as faithful to us as he remains faithful to the Father.
The world’s way of dealing with dense or hopeless or bickering or betraying disciples is to cut them off, to punish, to teach them a lesson through pain. Jesus’ way is to feed, to embrace, to heal and to serve. Jesus chooses to teach a lesson through service.
Sound foolish? Not really. Jesus is being, as he taught elsewhere, wise and gentle all at once.
At the end of tonight’s Gospel, after he has washed his disciples feet, Jesus says that the time for God’s glory is here. The time for Jesus to be glorified is here. What the lectionary leaves out is what was read yesterday: that Jesus’ glorification begins when Judas goes out to turn Jesus into the authorities.
Because now Jesus begins, once and for all, to take on everything that separates us from God and each other and creation. In Jesus’ death, we are made alive.
But first, he washes the feet of his friends and apprentices. He shows us in this little act of service that Jesus has remained as faithful to us as he has remained faithful to God.
Just as Jesus taught this to his disciples, we must learn it again and again. The disciples did not get the import of Jesus’ lesson until they met him raised from the dead. We who know the end of the story, we have encountered the risen Christ in faith and in baptism, need to be reminded of this same lesson over and over again. We who have been rescued by Christ from sin despair--we who have found grounding and purpose in our faith, we who are now adopted into the community of Christ’s people and grafted into the vine of Christ--we are the ones who are reminded that the way to serve is to allow ourselves to be served. That we are not in it for us and what we can get out of it, but we follow Christ because Christ served us.
Isn’t it strange that we who know the end of the story, who know the empty tomb and the risen Christ, are still surprised and embarrassed by this ritual? I don’t know about you but of the two things that Jesus did in that upper room at that last supper, I am really glad it was the other thing that became the Sunday norm! Someone once said to me that it just feels weird to see another person’s feet! Precisely! The idea of stepping up and allowing someone to serve us does not seem to be the way of self-sufficient competence. It is to us embarrassing foolishness.
But if we are to serve and welcome the people whom God gives to us—the poor, the homeless, the sick, the outcast, the chronically ill and the physically and mentally challenged—then we must learn how to be served. We must allow ourselves to be taught where we are challenged, where we are poor, we must discover our hunger, and where we experience being outcast. The point of washing each other’s feet, is that we serve these folks not because they are different from us, but because they are just like us. It is only their circumstances that are different.
Jesus shows us in washing feet and going to the cross that the way of God’s salvation is through mercy.
Jesus shows us in washing feet and going to the cross that the way the messiah reigns is through compassion and companionship.
Jesus shows us in washing feet and going to the cross that the way to see Christ is to look into the eyes of the people God gives us and imagine ourselves stooping to wash their feet.
It’s no joke. Jesus’ foolishness is our salvation.
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