Passion Narrative for the Sunday of the Passion 10 April 2022

Following is the link for The Passion Narrative according to Luke. The link is provided given the great length of the narrative. 

http://www.oremus.org/liturgy/lhwe/luke.html

Reflection        The church was an ultramodern building nestled in a sumptuous Marin County residential setting.  Passing through lush gardens, mesmerized by a stone fountain’s water music mingled with the fragrance of perennial  blossoms I was stopped dead in my tracks as I passed through the sanctuary doors and came face to face with a twenty foot contemporary painted wood sculpture of a Mexican/Spanish styled Jesus nailed to a cross, hanging high above the altar. Thankfully no one else was present as my gasp was audible.

“Oh dear. How can I be in this place? How can I gaze at this enormous dead Jesus every week?” And so began my first parish field education assignment as a brand new seminarian.

It took several months before I screwed up the courage to ask Mark, the rector, how he could live with the daunting sculpture of dead Jesus reigning above his head? He paused  before responding. “Hanging there above us is a constant reminder of what we humans are capable of at our worst. We should never forget our potential for evil, how every day we destroy innocents by our actions and inactions.” Something raw and ignoble clicked inside me. My mind and my heart beat a quick about face. 

We are not worshipping the institution’s graven image of the mangled body of Jesus and thereby violating the first commandment given to us in the Hebrew Scripture, “You shall not make for yourself an idol.” (Ex 20.4) The crucifix is radical social commentary. We contemplate the unsettling sculpture of an innocent man nailed to a cross to remind ourselves how easily we turn away from good, misuse our position, power or privilege, then willfully or unwittingly execute evil and elevate our actions to regal heights. 

It is no wonder we resist looking at the vexing sculpture of an innocent man nailed to a cross. It brings us face to face with this inconvenient truth. We are among the crowds of people who follow Jesus,  religious leaders, public officials and ordinary folks who ever so swiftly are swept into the emotion of the moment. Forgetting who and whose we are we turn away from good to execute even the most innocent among us. 

This week, this Holy Week, let us look at the image of an innocent man hanging on a cross and admit all the ways in which we am culpable for pounding nails into the hands and hope of humanity by our actions… and inaction. Let us look at the crucifix and see the homeless man we drove past without stopping to encourage, babes in the arms of their migrant mothers with no place to lay them down, terror in the eyes of a pregnant teenager,  a single mother’s distress as she leaves her sick child home alone to go to work and not lose her job,  destitute people lined up at food banks, social security offices and border crossings, buildings and bodies senselessly shattered from the US Capital to Ukraine. This week let us admit we are all part of the crowd at Jesus’ trial before Pilate shouting, “Crucify him. Crucify him.”

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Hebrew Testament Text for Sunday 20 March 2022

                      

Exodus 3:1-15        Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian; he led his flock beyond the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire out of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. Then Moses said, “I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.” When the Lord saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, “Moses, Moses!” And he said, “Here I am.” Then he said, “Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” He said further, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.

Then the Lord said, “I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey, to the country of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. The cry of the Israelites has now come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them. So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.” But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” He said, “I will be with you; and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God on this mountain.”

But Moses said to God, “If I come to the Israelites and say to them, 'The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,' and they ask me, 'What is his name?' what shall I say to them?” God said to Moses, “I am who I am.” He said further, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, 'I am has sent me to you.'” God also said to Moses, “Thus you shall say to the Israelites, 'The Lord, the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you’: This is my name forever,

and this my title for all generations.”

Reflection       What is burning inside you today? The cries of the millions of Ukrainians being driven into exile if not killed? The fear of the Russian people oppressed by their Stalin-esque president? The prospect of a madman deploying weapons of mass destruction? Shall we pause and wonder how  God's fire might be speaking to us? Are we willing to listen to the cries of the people and let the course of our lives be changed?  Are we willing to step out of our comfortable ruts, planting our heads in our hearts and acting decisively to alleviate the misery of  God’s people today? 

It may surprise you that that most scholars agree, Moses, a prophet important in Christianity, Judaism, Islam and Ba’hai, is not an historical figure.    Which begs the question, “What is the purpose of this mythic tale?” Let me suggest this is a spiritual journey story, a story that can help us navigate the lonely, arid and volatile desert we find ourselves navigating today. 

The wind blows, the dust  moves, the smell of creosote tantalizes and out of the corner of his eye Moses notices something he cannot explain, a bush that is burning but not consumed.  How can this be? The desert represents Moses’ interior journey; seeking understanding in the inhospitable vastness  of  the desert.  Here we join Moses following the mystery of a burning bush from his head into his heart to discern if it is real or a mirage.

 “Then Moses said, ‘I must turn aside and look at this great (amazing (CJB), marvelous (JSB), remarkable (NAB)) sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.’” Confronted by something that made no sense to him,  Moses stops what he is doing, turns aside and allows himself to stay with the unsettling experience, a non-consuming fire. This is the way our spiritual journeys progress. In the presence of mystery we turn our heads to our hearts, making ourselves available to discern God’s  (The Mystery's) real presence in our lives.

It seems God was waiting to discover how Moses would respond to the fire before proceeding; “When the Lord saw that he had turned aside to see,  God called to him out of the bush, ‘Moses, Moses!’ Moses responds  ‘Here I am.’” God and Moses enter into conversation, and by implication, relationship. Moses’ willingness to engage the mysterious fire by turning his head to his heart opens the way for him to be in relationship with God.                                                  

God says,“Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground,”   then proceeds to identify God’s own self, “’I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.’”  As Moses approaches, God establishes parameters for their relationship, providing Moses with a way to participate in the revelatory event.  Removing his sandals Moses embodies the holiness of this encounter.                                                                                                                            

What does the tale of Moses talking to a burning bush have to do with us? That depends entirely on how we choose to engage it. If we read this scripture briskly noting, ‘I’ve heard this story a million times,” we can walk right past the mystery, no effect. There is every reason to believe that Moses could have done just that.

Being a shepherd Moses had a job to do and could easily have justified sticking to his job and continuing on his way. No story. But, when Moses experiences the burning bush (in other words, feels the fire of wonder inside) he pauses to ponder the mystery. Paying attention to the incomprehensible mystery Moses is available to encounter, experience and answer God’s call . 

What is burning inside you today? The cries of the millions of Ukrainians being driven into exile if not killed? The fear of the Russian people oppressed by their Stalin-esque president? The prospect of a madman deploying weapons of mass destruction? Shall we pause and wonder how  God's fire might be speaking to us? Are we willing to listen to the cries of the people and let the course of your life be changed?  Are we willing to step out of your comfortable ruts, planting your head in our heart and acting decisively to alleviate the misery of  God’s people today? 

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Gospel text for Sunday 27 February 2022

 Luke 9:28-36       Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, "Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah"--not knowing what he said. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!" When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.

Reflection       With a full on war erupting in Ukraine and the balance of global powers hanging by a thread, today we are chilled to the bone and the image of a mountaintop moment in the company of Moses, Elijah and Jesus seems remote, if not irrelevant. But, is it?

Is it not our faith that hidden in the cleft of every brutal breech and war torn wound is the Presence of that which can never be ravished or ruined? Is it not our hope that Jesus’ promise “I am with you always, even to the end of the world,” (Matt 28.20) is trustworthy and true? Do we choose to plant our feet in the sure and certain love that St. Paul proclaims to the Romans as they suffer in their present time? ^“For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God?  (Romans 8.38-39) 

Do we not choose to live by faith, with hope in love?

Only hours after reading the dark and dire news of the Russian invasion of Ukraine on Thursday morning, I met with a woman whom I will call Karen. Eighty year old Karen’s hands were trembling as cold wrapped her from the inside out. Karen had spent the previous four hours trying to recover from a computer hack that invaded her contact list and sent messages to hundreds of family, friends and colleagues requesting assistance in her name. 

After spending a fair amount of time breathing deeply to restore a modicum of peace, peace that is more than the absence of the disruptive invasion by a hacker, peace that is more than the quelling of emotions in the face of an alien incursion and technology overload, peace that exceeds comprehension. Karen sought peace that prevails over evil. Karen breathed into the depth of her wound until tears carried these words from her heart to her lips. “All of these people, all of these people love me. They received the hacker’s message and keep calling and coming and buying gift cards to help me. I had no idea how much I am loved.” Surprised by grace, Karen found love in the depth of a wound inflicted by malevolent hackers.

An evil invasion by Russians or a malicious attack by hackers cannot and will not prevail. This is our faith and this is our hope because we are people who live in love; original, unmitigated abiding love. As people who choose to live by faith, with hope in love we can experience all of life, the good, bad and abhorrent, as sacrament. But to do so we must stay awake. We dare not be weighed down and unconscious if we are to experience every daybreak as well as every dreadful wound as sacrament, a manifest opportunity to experience Divine Presence. In Luke’s text, “Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw (Jesus’) glory and (Moses and Elijah) who stood with him.” The three disciples experienced life as sacrament.

Here is the thing. God is active in our world and in our lives but we must stay awake to experience God’s glory. We dare not allow ourselves to be weighed down by the news of war and threats of global disruption. To experience life as sacrament we must not be distracted by gruesome images or anger mongering words that trip us into fear and the sleep of unconscious reaction. 

Today, every day, we stand on a razor’s edge of choice. Do we choose to capitulate to evil and live in fear? Or do we choose to live by faith with hope in love? Let me suggest that if we choose the latter, that we must do whatever we do deliberately. Rather than muddle through each day slipping from routine to habit to unconscious reaction let us put our heads in our hearts and hold the purest of intentions. Let our intention be to experience all of life as sacrament, to find God in every moment, even and perhaps especially in our wounds and the wounds of the world.

Living our lives with the intention to find God in all things, like Peter, James and John we experience what theologians call a theophany. A theophany is a personal encounter with Divine Presence, nothing more and nothing less than the tears of a woman who had no idea how much she is loved.

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