* I've posted 46 blogs in this series because I wrote one on the Sundays in Lent. The Sundays in Lent are not counted in the 40 days. JWN
“When Jesus had received the wine, he said, ‘It is finished.’ Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.” (John 19:30)
The “it” here was not his life. Now, his life was finished, but that is not what Jesus says in these his final words. The “it” here was his work and mission. It—what he came to do was done. Complete. Over.
So, what was that work? There are so many things that we call it: Reconciliation, Redemption, Salvation. Justification. All big, theological words. All important. All full of meaning. Reconciliation—bringing together parties that had been separated. Redemption—lifting up that which was cast down, healing that which was broken, paying the price of a slave who could not pay for himself. Salvation—saving from evil, destruction, danger, death. Justification—making “just,” that is, making things “right” between God and us.
All of that, and more, Jesus accomplished in his death. Amazing that one death could do all that. Amazing that God would give us his Son. Amazing that God loves us that much. Maybe that is why we call it “Amazing Grace.”
Jesus could have walked away at any moment from his mission. He could have just had a regular life. He probably would have made a pretty good carpenter. He might have been a decent enough fisherman. He would have enjoyed being a teacher or even a rabbi. He had so many gifts that he could have shared. But his mission was all-in-all for him. And his mission needs to be all-in-all for us.
His mission is ours. It is not enough to receive all the benefits of his mercy and grace and love. In receiving them He calls us to live them and share them.
For Jesus his mission was finished. In finishing his mission he handed it on to us. As long as we live we are the extensions of his mission to the world. To be a Christian is to be a missionary. Missions are not necessarily in some foreign land. Mission starts here, with us, within us, and then it moves out.
At our end, won’t it be lovely when we can say, “It is finished.” Our part of the Jesus mission is over. And now let us trust in his mercy and love to bring us home to God.
I end these reflections on the cross. Tomorrow is Easter. Be wherever you might worship to celebrate his resurrection. Believe in it. Live it. Practice it. Share it.
I have been pondering. What would resurrection life look like? Maybe that is another series.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Friday, April 10, 2009
Jesus Thirsted - Day 45*
* There will be a total of 46 postings in this series since I posted blogs on Sundays during Lent. Sundays are Feast Days and not "counted" in the 40 days. JWN
"After this, when Jesus knew that all was now finished, he said (in order to fulfill scripture), ‘I am thirsty.’ A jar full of sour wine was standing there. So they put a sponge full of wine on a branch of hyssop and held it to his mouth.” (John 19: 28-29)
Jesus must have been thirsty. He had not had anything to drink or eat since the night before. He must have been looking for any kind of comfort that could be given to him, maybe even some sour wine. The Romans would keep the sour wine there as a mild sedative. Even they had some mercy. Not much, but some.
Yes, he must have been thirsty; but there is thirst and then there is thirst. He had immediate thirst at this moment for wine or water, but he also had a deeper thirst for God, for us, for God and us. All of that—his mission—is what he had the deeper thirst for. And now, his thirst for bringing us back to God, for forgiving us, for showing us God’s love, for reconciling us with God, had come to its most critical and crucial moment. In order to slack this thirst he had to drink deep of his own sacrifice and death. In order to slack his thirst he had to drink deep of all that separated us from God and he had to take the weight and pain and agony of all that on his back.
So, what are you thirsty for? There are so many things that we can try to slack our thirst, so many “drinks” that we think will satisfy, so many “wells” we try to drain dry. All too often these “drinks” don’t really slack our thirst. All too often they only make us more thirsty.
God made us to be thirsty for God. Jesus came to remind us of that fact. He came calling himself many things, including “Living Water.” He came to reveal that in drinking this water, drinking Him, we will never be thirsty again. When we drink of Him we drink joy and hope and forgiveness and grace and love and purpose. When we drink in of Him we are drinking the Living Water that fills us up, that makes us whole, that makes us streams of life to and for others.
Jesus said, “I thirst.” He thirsted for you, for me, for us. He thirsted to share love. Just like He thirsted for us, maybe we need to consider our thirst for Him. Drink deep. His water is good.
"After this, when Jesus knew that all was now finished, he said (in order to fulfill scripture), ‘I am thirsty.’ A jar full of sour wine was standing there. So they put a sponge full of wine on a branch of hyssop and held it to his mouth.” (John 19: 28-29)
Jesus must have been thirsty. He had not had anything to drink or eat since the night before. He must have been looking for any kind of comfort that could be given to him, maybe even some sour wine. The Romans would keep the sour wine there as a mild sedative. Even they had some mercy. Not much, but some.
Yes, he must have been thirsty; but there is thirst and then there is thirst. He had immediate thirst at this moment for wine or water, but he also had a deeper thirst for God, for us, for God and us. All of that—his mission—is what he had the deeper thirst for. And now, his thirst for bringing us back to God, for forgiving us, for showing us God’s love, for reconciling us with God, had come to its most critical and crucial moment. In order to slack this thirst he had to drink deep of his own sacrifice and death. In order to slack his thirst he had to drink deep of all that separated us from God and he had to take the weight and pain and agony of all that on his back.
So, what are you thirsty for? There are so many things that we can try to slack our thirst, so many “drinks” that we think will satisfy, so many “wells” we try to drain dry. All too often these “drinks” don’t really slack our thirst. All too often they only make us more thirsty.
God made us to be thirsty for God. Jesus came to remind us of that fact. He came calling himself many things, including “Living Water.” He came to reveal that in drinking this water, drinking Him, we will never be thirsty again. When we drink of Him we drink joy and hope and forgiveness and grace and love and purpose. When we drink in of Him we are drinking the Living Water that fills us up, that makes us whole, that makes us streams of life to and for others.
Jesus said, “I thirst.” He thirsted for you, for me, for us. He thirsted to share love. Just like He thirsted for us, maybe we need to consider our thirst for Him. Drink deep. His water is good.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Jesus Makes New Family - Day 44*
* There will be a total of 46 blogs since I've posted blogs on Sundays. Sundays are not included in the 40 days of Lent. JWN
When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, ‘Woman, here is your son.’ Then he said to the disciple, ‘Here is your mother.’ And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.” (John 19: 26-27)
Here Jesus is at the point of death. He has been hanging on the cross for several hours. He has been beaten and a spear has pierced his side and he is running out of oxygen. Every time he pulls his body up for another breath he tears into the flesh of his feet and hands. It is an excruciating way to die.
And yet, even with all of this pain, even with his own doubts and struggles, he sees the pain of his mother and the pain of one of his friends. He turns away from his pain and sees theirs.
I find that simply remarkable. But then I shouldn’t. He came to see our pain, our lostness, our brokenness, our frail and flawed humanity. He came to see all of that and to heal all of that. He came to connect us to God, to each other, and to our best and truest selves.
Which is what he does here at almost his last moment alive. He does an adoption process. Mother, here is your new son. My dear friend, here is your new mother. Don’t leave this place alone. Go with each other. Be never alone. Love each other.
What he said from the cross to Mary and to John is what he says to us. Go make a new family, more family. Go share love. Be never alone. You all need each other, so be together. Share your needs. Don’t burrow up all by yourself. No one is meant to live that way.
Sometimes I think of the church as the Mary and John Adoption Agency. Almost his last desire was that Jesus wanted to make a new family. His desire for us has never stopped. Being here means making a new family. That was his work. That is our work. This work can be hard work. And, this work is among one of the great joys we will ever have in this life—making more family with and in and through Jesus.
When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, ‘Woman, here is your son.’ Then he said to the disciple, ‘Here is your mother.’ And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.” (John 19: 26-27)
Here Jesus is at the point of death. He has been hanging on the cross for several hours. He has been beaten and a spear has pierced his side and he is running out of oxygen. Every time he pulls his body up for another breath he tears into the flesh of his feet and hands. It is an excruciating way to die.
And yet, even with all of this pain, even with his own doubts and struggles, he sees the pain of his mother and the pain of one of his friends. He turns away from his pain and sees theirs.
I find that simply remarkable. But then I shouldn’t. He came to see our pain, our lostness, our brokenness, our frail and flawed humanity. He came to see all of that and to heal all of that. He came to connect us to God, to each other, and to our best and truest selves.
Which is what he does here at almost his last moment alive. He does an adoption process. Mother, here is your new son. My dear friend, here is your new mother. Don’t leave this place alone. Go with each other. Be never alone. Love each other.
What he said from the cross to Mary and to John is what he says to us. Go make a new family, more family. Go share love. Be never alone. You all need each other, so be together. Share your needs. Don’t burrow up all by yourself. No one is meant to live that way.
Sometimes I think of the church as the Mary and John Adoption Agency. Almost his last desire was that Jesus wanted to make a new family. His desire for us has never stopped. Being here means making a new family. That was his work. That is our work. This work can be hard work. And, this work is among one of the great joys we will ever have in this life—making more family with and in and through Jesus.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Jesus Doubted - Day 43*
* I've posted blogs on the Sundays in Lent, so there will be a total of 46 blogs in this series. JWN
“And about three o’clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, ‘Eli, Eli, lema sabach thani?’ that is, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’” (Matthew 27: 46)
I was a senior in college, taking a course in religion (my first one) that was titled, “A seminar on the existence of evil.” One of the constant questions we wrestled with was: “Why do bad things happen to good people?”
One day as we were wrestling with the above question, a woman in the class said, “I have always received great solace that Jesus doubted God’s presence and plan in his life.” I said, “No way that happened.” (I was, frankly, speaking out of turn and out of my expertise or background because I had not read the bible at all.) She said, “He did.” I said, “When?” And she got a bible out of her backpack and read that line from Matthew. I was not embarrassed that she had trumped me. I was not embarrassed because I was so astounded that Jesus had said these words.
That day I went to the bookstore and purchased a bible. I wanted to read the words for myself. I wanted to see what else Jesus had to say.
The fact that Jesus doubted, that he struggled, that he questioned, helped me to believe in Jesus and trust Jesus and get curious about Jesus. The fact that he was that human, that vulnerable, made him so much more accessible and real to me.
At that time in my life I had thought that doubts undermine faith. Not so I found out from Jesus. Doubts and questions and struggles are not the opposite of faith, they are just part of faith and they are just part of being a human being. Sometimes the world doesn’t make much sense. Sometimes our own lives don’t make much sense. Sometimes it is hard to discern where God is or how God acts or why God sometimes doesn’t seem to act. Sometimes we do feel forsaken, all alone, and we question, we doubt whether our faith matters or whether God is there at all. Sometimes we do experience what Jesus felt and questioned and feared on the cross at three o’clock on the afternoon of Good Friday.
During such times let us remember that Jesus, too, questioned God. During such times of doubt and struggle let us remember that Jesus understands where we are, that he doesn’t judge us, and that he is there with us in all of our struggles and doubts. Always.
I am sorry that Jesus went through such pain. And, I am thankful that he did. Thankful because he can now be with us in all that we go through, even our doubts.
“And about three o’clock Jesus cried with a loud voice, ‘Eli, Eli, lema sabach thani?’ that is, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’” (Matthew 27: 46)
I was a senior in college, taking a course in religion (my first one) that was titled, “A seminar on the existence of evil.” One of the constant questions we wrestled with was: “Why do bad things happen to good people?”
One day as we were wrestling with the above question, a woman in the class said, “I have always received great solace that Jesus doubted God’s presence and plan in his life.” I said, “No way that happened.” (I was, frankly, speaking out of turn and out of my expertise or background because I had not read the bible at all.) She said, “He did.” I said, “When?” And she got a bible out of her backpack and read that line from Matthew. I was not embarrassed that she had trumped me. I was not embarrassed because I was so astounded that Jesus had said these words.
That day I went to the bookstore and purchased a bible. I wanted to read the words for myself. I wanted to see what else Jesus had to say.
The fact that Jesus doubted, that he struggled, that he questioned, helped me to believe in Jesus and trust Jesus and get curious about Jesus. The fact that he was that human, that vulnerable, made him so much more accessible and real to me.
At that time in my life I had thought that doubts undermine faith. Not so I found out from Jesus. Doubts and questions and struggles are not the opposite of faith, they are just part of faith and they are just part of being a human being. Sometimes the world doesn’t make much sense. Sometimes our own lives don’t make much sense. Sometimes it is hard to discern where God is or how God acts or why God sometimes doesn’t seem to act. Sometimes we do feel forsaken, all alone, and we question, we doubt whether our faith matters or whether God is there at all. Sometimes we do experience what Jesus felt and questioned and feared on the cross at three o’clock on the afternoon of Good Friday.
During such times let us remember that Jesus, too, questioned God. During such times of doubt and struggle let us remember that Jesus understands where we are, that he doesn’t judge us, and that he is there with us in all of our struggles and doubts. Always.
I am sorry that Jesus went through such pain. And, I am thankful that he did. Thankful because he can now be with us in all that we go through, even our doubts.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Jesus Didn't Flinch - Day 42*
* I've posted blogs on the Sundays in Lent. Since the Sundays in Lent are not counted as part of the 40 days, I will have a total of 46 postings. JWN
Jesus has been picked up by the Roman guards. His dearest friends and disciples have vanished. He has been up all night, being shuttled from one tribunal to the next. He has suffered insults. He has endured endless questioning. He has heard Peter deny him. He is facing his death.
It would seem like everything was stacked against him. It would seem like he would have had almost nothing left, that he would have agreed to almost any confession or apology to get out of his agony. It would seem like Pilate had all the power and that Jesus had none. But this was not the case.
It is clear during Jesus’ time with Pilate that Jesus had the power. Pilate, who had the army right outside, who had all the accoutrement of position, is on his heels throughout his time with this half-naked preacher and teacher.
Pilate asks, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus responds, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” (See John 18: 33-38)
Pilate wants to know if Jesus is a threat to King Caesar. He is thinking about a political king.
But Jesus just sidesteps him. He doesn’t really answer. They go back and forth and Pilate asks him again if he is a king and Jesus says, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” And then Pilate asks him, “What is truth?”
Yes, good question. What is truth? What is your truth? What is the truth of your life—the truth that you stand upon and hope upon?
Is Jesus our King, our Lord, our Savior, our Leader, our All, or is some version, some manifestation, of Pilate, who represents all the principalities and powers of this world? We all have a choice.
It took me years to see Jesus’ courage in this interview, years to see that he had the power and not Pilate, years to see that he didn’t flinch.
He didn’t flinch because he knew that if he did, his work of reconciliation between God and us would have been destroyed. He didn’t flinch because he looked at God’s call to him and our need for him. He didn’t flinch because what could Pilate do other than take his life. He didn’t flinch because he knew that in giving that very life his mission would be complete.
If you follow Jesus you are in an apprenticeship of learning how not to flinch to life, to love, to hope, to forgiveness, to service, to joy. So, be like Jesus. Don’t flinch.
Jesus has been picked up by the Roman guards. His dearest friends and disciples have vanished. He has been up all night, being shuttled from one tribunal to the next. He has suffered insults. He has endured endless questioning. He has heard Peter deny him. He is facing his death.
It would seem like everything was stacked against him. It would seem like he would have had almost nothing left, that he would have agreed to almost any confession or apology to get out of his agony. It would seem like Pilate had all the power and that Jesus had none. But this was not the case.
It is clear during Jesus’ time with Pilate that Jesus had the power. Pilate, who had the army right outside, who had all the accoutrement of position, is on his heels throughout his time with this half-naked preacher and teacher.
Pilate asks, “Are you the King of the Jews?” Jesus responds, “Do you ask this on your own, or did others tell you about me?” (See John 18: 33-38)
Pilate wants to know if Jesus is a threat to King Caesar. He is thinking about a political king.
But Jesus just sidesteps him. He doesn’t really answer. They go back and forth and Pilate asks him again if he is a king and Jesus says, “You say that I am a king. For this I was born, and for this I came into the world, to testify to the truth. Everyone who belongs to the truth listens to my voice.” And then Pilate asks him, “What is truth?”
Yes, good question. What is truth? What is your truth? What is the truth of your life—the truth that you stand upon and hope upon?
Is Jesus our King, our Lord, our Savior, our Leader, our All, or is some version, some manifestation, of Pilate, who represents all the principalities and powers of this world? We all have a choice.
It took me years to see Jesus’ courage in this interview, years to see that he had the power and not Pilate, years to see that he didn’t flinch.
He didn’t flinch because he knew that if he did, his work of reconciliation between God and us would have been destroyed. He didn’t flinch because he looked at God’s call to him and our need for him. He didn’t flinch because what could Pilate do other than take his life. He didn’t flinch because he knew that in giving that very life his mission would be complete.
If you follow Jesus you are in an apprenticeship of learning how not to flinch to life, to love, to hope, to forgiveness, to service, to joy. So, be like Jesus. Don’t flinch.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Jesus Became Bread and Blood - Day 41*
* I have posted blogs on the Sundays in Lent. Sundays are not counted in the 40 days of Lent so that I will actually have 46 postings. JWN
Jesus and his disciples were celebrating the Passover supper, the event and occasion when the Jews remembered the night that they left Egypt, when they were set free from slavery for freedom, when they went from having no land to anticipating the Promised Land, when they put blood on their doorposts to mark them and protect them so that the angel of death would pass over them. Every time the Jews celebrated the Passover they would re-member all of these events, and by re-member I am trying to convey not a simple intellectual recollection, but an actual “re-membering,” redoing, and reenacting all that happening.
We call this event the Last Supper. During this event Jesus took the bread and said this is now my body. During this event Jesus took the wine and said this is now my blood. So, now, he said, eat my body and drink my blood. This is how you become one with me and how I become one with you.
I have had the great joy and privilege of standing at God’s altar and saying Jesus’ words now for many years. I am clear that at the table I am a waiter. I am clear that Jesus is there, that he is the Host, and that the bread and wine do indeed become His Body and His Blood. How all that happens, well, I cannot—nor can anyone else—entirely explain. But that is alright. There is a mystery there that is beyond our words.
The Last Supper has never ended. It is still going on every time we gather around God’s table. He gives us his body and blood in order to feed us and in order to transform us. I do believe in the miracle that such ordinary things as bread and wine are transformed into his body and blood. And, I do believe in the miracle that he takes us, such ordinary folks as us, and transforms us into his body and blood for the world. We become what we eat. As we partake of the sacraments, we are called to become living and walking and extending sacraments. The first miracle is great—the bread and wine becoming his body and blood. The second miracle could perhaps be even greater—you and me becoming his body and blood for the world.
Jesus and his disciples were celebrating the Passover supper, the event and occasion when the Jews remembered the night that they left Egypt, when they were set free from slavery for freedom, when they went from having no land to anticipating the Promised Land, when they put blood on their doorposts to mark them and protect them so that the angel of death would pass over them. Every time the Jews celebrated the Passover they would re-member all of these events, and by re-member I am trying to convey not a simple intellectual recollection, but an actual “re-membering,” redoing, and reenacting all that happening.
We call this event the Last Supper. During this event Jesus took the bread and said this is now my body. During this event Jesus took the wine and said this is now my blood. So, now, he said, eat my body and drink my blood. This is how you become one with me and how I become one with you.
I have had the great joy and privilege of standing at God’s altar and saying Jesus’ words now for many years. I am clear that at the table I am a waiter. I am clear that Jesus is there, that he is the Host, and that the bread and wine do indeed become His Body and His Blood. How all that happens, well, I cannot—nor can anyone else—entirely explain. But that is alright. There is a mystery there that is beyond our words.
The Last Supper has never ended. It is still going on every time we gather around God’s table. He gives us his body and blood in order to feed us and in order to transform us. I do believe in the miracle that such ordinary things as bread and wine are transformed into his body and blood. And, I do believe in the miracle that he takes us, such ordinary folks as us, and transforms us into his body and blood for the world. We become what we eat. As we partake of the sacraments, we are called to become living and walking and extending sacraments. The first miracle is great—the bread and wine becoming his body and blood. The second miracle could perhaps be even greater—you and me becoming his body and blood for the world.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Jesus Served - Day 40
Last Supper. The disciples knew it. Jesus knew it. We know it by reading the account. Solemn. Quiet. Tense.
At a quiet moment, Jesus “got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him.” (see John 13: 1-15) After wrangling with Peter about whether or not Jesus is going to wash his feet, Jesus says, “So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set an example, that you should do as I have done to you.”
I was in seminary and was chosen to be one of representatives in the community that would have his feet washed by one of the faculty members. As I saw Fr. Hunt (he was our Old Testament professor) kneel before me to wash my feet I began to cry.
Once I got out of seminary I was asked to oversee the foot washing ceremony at the Cathedral in Portland, Maine, when the bishop would wash the feet of 12 leaders from the diocese. As I watched the bishop do this washing I kept hearing in my heart and head Jesus’ words: If I have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. I knew at that moment that someday I would design a foot washing service where everyone was invited to wash and be washed.
Which is, of course, what we have been doing at Palmer for many years now. Every year I go back to that moment when Fr. Hunt washed my feet. Every year I cry as I see couples come forward and children and parents come forward and complete strangers come forward and sometimes even folks who don’t much like each other come forward to wash each other’s feet. Every year I see Jesus in it all. Every year I see so much grace and love and peace and connection and joy.
The water from the feet washing is, of course, a bit…well…linty. But it is also Holy Water. It is Holy because Jesus was in the water, in the washing, in the touching.
If you haven’t come to this service before, don’t be afraid or anxious. Just come. Just wash. Just be washed. See Jesus kneeling before you. See him in the person you wash. Jesus said “do it,” and we do.
At a quiet moment, Jesus “got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him.” (see John 13: 1-15) After wrangling with Peter about whether or not Jesus is going to wash his feet, Jesus says, “So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set an example, that you should do as I have done to you.”
I was in seminary and was chosen to be one of representatives in the community that would have his feet washed by one of the faculty members. As I saw Fr. Hunt (he was our Old Testament professor) kneel before me to wash my feet I began to cry.
Once I got out of seminary I was asked to oversee the foot washing ceremony at the Cathedral in Portland, Maine, when the bishop would wash the feet of 12 leaders from the diocese. As I watched the bishop do this washing I kept hearing in my heart and head Jesus’ words: If I have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. I knew at that moment that someday I would design a foot washing service where everyone was invited to wash and be washed.
Which is, of course, what we have been doing at Palmer for many years now. Every year I go back to that moment when Fr. Hunt washed my feet. Every year I cry as I see couples come forward and children and parents come forward and complete strangers come forward and sometimes even folks who don’t much like each other come forward to wash each other’s feet. Every year I see Jesus in it all. Every year I see so much grace and love and peace and connection and joy.
The water from the feet washing is, of course, a bit…well…linty. But it is also Holy Water. It is Holy because Jesus was in the water, in the washing, in the touching.
If you haven’t come to this service before, don’t be afraid or anxious. Just come. Just wash. Just be washed. See Jesus kneeling before you. See him in the person you wash. Jesus said “do it,” and we do.
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