Gospel text for Sunday 11 April 2021

 John 20:19-31      When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, "Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you." When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, "Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”

But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, "We have seen the Lord." But he said to them, "Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, "Peace be with you." Then he said to Thomas, "Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe." Thomas answered him, "My Lord and my God!" Jesus said to him, "Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.

Reflection        Oh Thomas, be careful what you ask for! Do you really want to see and feel Jesus’ wounds? Is having your own personal experience of Jesus’ suffering the only way you will believe? Thomas’ answer is “Yes.” And apparently many people on the planet today would also answer, “Yes.”

Hitting rock bottom is the familiar euphemism for reaching the lowest possible point in our life wherein suffering bears down like a hammer and we seek refuge in our rooms, lock the doors and lament. Then, with our bodies and minds buried in Jesus’ wounds, finally we see beyond seeing and know beyond knowing. We “come to believe.” By allowing ourselves to  experience the immediacy of our suffering we catch ourselves calling out, “My Lord and my God. Help me.” 

When we’ve lost our job, our home, our loved one, or our body is wracked with disease, when our family is falling apart or we simply cannot get out of bed, when we have fallen to the bottom of our personal rabbit hole, whatever that may be, this is when  in a most mysterious way  many of us “come to believe” that there is indeed something more. Pivoting on the head of a pin we see beyond the fallen bricks and mortar of our lives and shout into the darkness, “My Lord and my God.”

Much as the disciples, I have spent time locked inside my fear while locking the rest of the world out. Locked into fear. Locked out of relationships. Apparently this is an unacceptable situation for the risen Christ. By means we cannot wrap our minds around  Jesus breeches the locked door, stands among the terrified disciples and inconceivably delivers the gift of his presence saying, “Peace be with you…. receive the Holy Spirit.” 

When we hit our personal rock bottom, locked in fear with the world locked out, rising from the depths of our darkest wound comes the impossible promise. Peace. God’s Peace. The Holy Spirit of God arrives dispensing the opposite of fear, agitation, disharmony, worry, frustration, hatred and distress. Peace. 

“Peace be with you,” in the depths of your darkest nightmare. “Peace be with you,” in the wounds of your flesh. “Peace be with you,” in your tormented mind. “Peace be with you,” when your friends abandon you and you are locked in fear. “Peace be with you,” so that “you may have life.” The question is, “Do you choose to believe?”

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Gospel for the Great Vigil of Easter Saturday 3 April 2021

Mark 16:1-8        When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint Jesus. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. They had been saying to one another, "Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?" When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, "Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you." So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

Reflection        It is done. Our friend, our teacher, our Jesus is dead. Now the silence, the empty arms, the excruciating waiting,  waiting for the Sabbath to end, waiting for the, “first day of the week, when the sun has risen,” when at last, along with Mary Magdalene, Mary the Mother of James and Salome there is something for us to do. The Sabbath is over. Finally we can go to the tomb and anoint Jesus’ body with our fragrant spices. But nothing is as it should be.

The stone protecting the entrance to Jesus’ tomb is rolled back. Instead of finding Jesus’ body inside we see a young man dressed in white, sitting there and saying strange things. “Do not be alarmed, you are for looking Jesus who was crucified. He is not here. He has been raised.”  And along with Mary Magdalene, Mary the Mother of James and Salome we ask, “Now what are we supposed to do?”

There ends the gospel according to Mark. It ends as abruptly as it begins. Remember how is begins? “This is the beginning of the good news of Jesus the Christ, the Son of God.” This is the beginning, this is good news.  From the very beginning we know Jesus’ true identity, the Son of God. Nevertheless, all the way through the story, along with the disciples, we forget,  we forget the good news, we forget who Jesus is, and then we remember and begin the story again. We forget, then remember and begin the story again. 

That is the way it is, right down to the wire. We remember who Jesus is at our Thursday evening Passover Supper and then when things get chaotic on Friday we fear for our lives, forget, run away and hide or stand at a safe distance watching Jesus take his last breath. Is it not ironic? The person who in the end “remembers” and announces who Jesus is, is a Roman soldier, one of those who nailed him to the cross?  who boldly proclaims, “Truly this man was God’s Son.” And there we are, beginning again, the beginning of the good news of Jesus the Son of God, who dies on a cross. 

In this very moment we discover the answer to the question, the question that mystified us and the three women just moments ago at Jesus’ vacated cave, “Now what are we supposed to do?” The answer is this. When the Sabbath is over and  “the sun has risen on the first day of the week,” it is time to begin again, to see the new light that has pierced the darkness. It is time for us to go and tell the good news of Jesus the Son of God, the message that has reverberated throughout Mark’s gospel because always, always, always, no matter how dark the darkness, always we begin again.

The incredibly abrupt ending of Mark’s gospel leaves us standing at the empty tomb with Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and Salome. But here is the thing.  The empty tomb is actually not empty. In the new light on the first day of the week we and the three women meet a young man in the tomb who tells us precisely what to do. Go, tell and see. Go into the world. Tell the good news of Jesus the Son of God. See how the risen light of Christ will be there with and for you and everyone else in all the world.

Dear people of God, It is up to each one of us to step into the dark and empty places, walk through our fears and tell the tale of our faith so  to continue this story. If we want the world to know and experience the all-inclusive love of God, it is up to us to live it. If we want food for the hungry, freedom for the oppressed and dignity for all people, it is up to us to find our voices and demand it. If we want peace and reconciliation in our lives and our world, it is up to us to embody it in the words we use and the actions we choose. Of course this means being the light of Christ to people who look and think, act, dress, vote and believe differently than us. It means stepping into uncomfortable places, like empty tombs and borderlands, and seeing the light of Christ right there.

We began our worship this evening lighting the new fire, a fire that each one of us carries into the darkness of the sanctuary that was stripped of all that is holy on Maundy Thursday. Now the outward signs of the Christ light, the candles have been extinguished because the Light of Christ lives in the sanctuary of each one of our hearts. We are the candles meant to bring Christ light into the world, a world that is being brutally stripped of all that is holy. If not us, then who will help creation to begin again?

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You may wish to skip the first 5 minutes of introduction to the Golijov Passion - the music is beyond amazing. Worth a listen! 

 

Psalm for Good Friday 2 April 2021

Psalm 22           My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? *

and are so far from my cry

and from the words of my distress?

2 O my God, I cry in the daytime, but you do not answer; *

by night as well, but I find no rest.

3 Yet you are the Holy One, *

enthroned upon the praises of Israel.

4 Our forefathers put their trust in you; *

they trusted, and you delivered them.

5 They cried out to you and were delivered; *

they trusted in you and were not put to shame.

6 But as for me, I am a worm and no man, *

scorned by all and despised by the people.

7 All who see me laugh me to scorn; *

they curl their lips and wag their heads, saying,

8 "He trusted in the Lord; let him deliver him; *

let him rescue him, if he delights in him."

9 Yet you are he who took me out of the womb, *

and kept me safe upon my mother's breast.

10 I have been entrusted to you ever since I was born; *

you were my God when I was still in my mother's womb.

11 Be not far from me, for trouble is near, *

and there is none to help.

12 Many young bulls encircle me; *

strong bulls of Bashan surround me.

13 They open wide their jaws at me, *

like a ravening and a roaring lion.

14 I am poured out like water;

all my bones are out of joint; *

my heart within my breast is melting wax.

15 My mouth is dried out like a pot-sherd;

my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth; *

and you have laid me in the dust of the grave.

16 Packs of dogs close me in,

and gangs of evildoers circle around me; *

they pierce my hands and my feet;

I can count all my bones.

17 They stare and gloat over me; *

they divide my garments among them;

they cast lots for my clothing.

18 Be not far away, O Lord; *

you are my strength; hasten to help me.

19 Save me from the sword, *

my life from the power of the dog.

20 Save me from the lion's mouth, *

my wretched body from the horns of wild bulls.

21 I will declare your Name to my brethren; *

in the midst of the congregation I will praise you.

22 Praise the Lord, you that fear him; *

stand in awe of him, O offspring of Israel;

all you of Jacob's line, give glory.

23 For he does not despise nor abhor the poor in their poverty;

neither does he hide his face from them; *

but when they cry to him he hears them.

24 My praise is of him in the great assembly; *

I will perform my vows in the presence of those who worship him.

25 The poor shall eat and be satisfied,

and those who seek the Lord shall praise him: *

"May your heart live for ever!"

26 All the ends of the earth shall remember and turn to the Lord, *

and all the families of the nations shall bow before him.

27 For kingship belongs to the Lord; *

he rules over the nations.

28 To him alone all who sleep in the earth bow down in worship; *

all who go down to the dust fall before him.

29 My soul shall live for him;

my descendants shall serve him; *

they shall be known as the Lord's for ever.

30 They shall come and make known to a people yet unborn *

the saving deeds that he has done.

Reflection       “ My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Do these words not cut to your core and echo in your heart? Have there not been times in your life when they have tumbled off your tongue? There certainly have been times in mine when I cried out, “Where are you God? How could you let this happen to me? Why can I not feel your presence? I cannot take this any more. Why have you abandoned me?“

For a long time I believed that my complaints and anger at God were evidence of my weakness and lack of faith. So I would beat myself up, “How could you even think that way Debra? You say you are faithful; well, this is evidence of your faithlessness.” Feeling even worse I moan on. “No wonder God abandons me, I am nothing but a wretched, faithless “‘worm and not human!’”(Ps 22.6)

And then one day I really heard the words of Psalm 22. (You know how it is, you can hear something one hundred times and then, the one hundred and first time your ears open and you really hear it?) That is what happened for me with Psalm 22, which is sometimes called a “Plea for Deliverance from Suffering and Hostility.” 

It was during one of those dark times of my life that I could so relate to the words, “My God…Why are you so far from helping me, …I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night, but find no rest. “ Yes, that was exactly how I felt. The thing is, also like the Psalmist, I never stopped calling out and complaining to God, which today I understand as evidence of my faith, not my faithlessness.

You see, as I read Psalm 22 I asked myself, “Why would the Psalmist keep calling out to God even when God seems not to answer? Why bother?” Then it occurred to me that even Jesus utters those excruciating words. He had been hanging on the cross for hours. His hands and feet pierced and stinging, his muscles gripped in spasms as his lungs were filling with fluid as he was slowly suffocating. In that dark hour surely Jesus could not feel God’s presence. Yet, from the depths of his agony Jesus calls out,  “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

Can you imagine what must  have been going through Jesus’ mind? ”Why have you forgotten me?  I have answered your call on my life. Every day and every night I come to you in prayer and follow your direction. I turn to you in every situation and rely on you in all that I  say and do. This is too much.  I cannot bear this agony. Where are you now? Why have you abandoned me?”

I believe this agonizing scene exposes the true nature of Jesus’ relationship with God just as he describes it to the disciples the gospel according to John when he prays, “The Father and I are one.” (John 10.30) And again, “As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may (the disciples) also be in us.” (John 17.21) We are one in the Father. Even when nailed to a cross, nothing separates Jesus (or us) from God, which, by the way is a basic tenant of our faith.

Christianity has evolved over time. Some would say for the better, others would argue, not so much. Either way, the root of our faith is the inseparable relationship between God and humanity. But the root has been wrapped in the clothes of creeds and the tunics of tradition, outer garments that bury rather than lay bare our intimate relationship with God.

But when our “bones are out of joint… our mouth dried up… and we can count all our bones,” our creedal clothes are stripped from us, and also tradition’s tunics. Then in our naked vulnerability we return to the root of our faith and cry, “My God, my God, why have your forsaken me,” because we remember the Psalmist’s words,   “Commit your cause to God; let God deliver—
let God rescue the one in whom God delights!” (Ps 22.8) 

                                                                  

And here lies the stunning transition. From the depths of agony comes the recognition of God present. The psalmist continues, 

”From the horns of the wild oxen you have rescued me.”                                                       God is in the midst of our suffering.
“For God did not despise or abhor
   the affliction of the afflicted;
God did not hide God’s face from me,
   but heard when I cried (out).” (Ps 22.23-24)

This is the good news of Good Friday. When we are in so much pain and fear that we cannot see beyond it, when our finances are shattered and our family is in crisis, when a global pandemic has made us afraid of everyone and everything,  when  a deadly disease is decaying our defenseless body, when our nation is shaken and we are not even sure it is safe to go to church, this is the moment we must return to the root of our faith and in our naked vulnerability cry out to God. 

With nothing left except our naked vulnerability, in every cell and every space of our being we must know that Jesus' words are true for us, ”the Father and I are one." This is the good news of Good Friday. 

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The Passion Narrative for Palm Sunday 28 March 2021

 Mark 15.1-39          As soon as it was morning, the chief priests held a consultation with the elders and scribes and the whole council. They bound Jesus, led him away, and handed him over to Pilate. Pilate asked him, “Are you the King of the Jews?” He answered him, “You say so.” Then the chief priests accused him of many things. Pilate asked him again, “Have you no answer? See how many charges they bring against you.” But Jesus made no further reply, so that Pilate was amazed.

Now at the festival he used to release a prisoner for them, anyone for whom they asked. Now a man called Barabbas was in prison with the rebels who had committed murder during the insurrection. So the crowd came and began to ask Pilate to do for them according to his custom. Then he answered them, “Do you want me to release for you the King of the Jews?” For he realized that it was out of jealousy that the chief priests had handed him over. But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have him release Barabbas for them instead. Pilate spoke to them again, “Then what do you wish me to do with the man you call the King of the Jews?” They shouted back, “Crucify him!” Pilate asked them, “Why, what evil has he done?” But they shouted all the more, “Crucify him!” So Pilate, wishing to satisfy the crowd, released Barabbas for them; and after flogging Jesus, he handed him over to be crucified.

Then the soldiers led him into the courtyard of the palace (that is, the governor’s headquarters); and they called together the whole cohort. And they clothed him in a purple cloak; and after twisting some thorns into a crown, they put it on him. And they began saluting him, “Hail, King of the Jews!” They struck his head with a reed, spat upon him, and knelt down in homage to him. After mocking him, they stripped him of the purple cloak and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him out to crucify him.

They compelled a passer-by, who was coming in from the country, to carry his cross; it was Simon of Cyrene, the father of Alexander and Rufus. Then they brought Jesus to the place called Golgotha (which means the place of a skull). And they offered him wine mixed with myrrh; but he did not take it. And they crucified him, and divided his clothes among them, casting lots to decide what each should take.

It was nine o’clock in the morning when they crucified him. The inscription of the charge against him read, “The King of the Jews.” And with him they crucified two bandits, one on his right and one on his left. Those who passed by derided him, shaking their heads and saying, “Aha! You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself, and come down from the cross!” In the same way the chief priests, along with the scribes, were also mocking him among themselves and saying, “He saved others; he cannot save himself. Let the Messiah, the King of Israel, come down from the cross now, so that we may see and believe.” Those who were crucified with him also taunted him.

When it was noon, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. At three o’clock Jesus cried out with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” When some of the bystanders heard it, they said, “Listen, he is calling for Elijah.” And someone ran, filled a sponge with sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink, saying, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to take him down.” Then Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. Now when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said, “Truly this man was God’s Son!”

Reflection     Remembering the musical, Jesus Christ Superstar, I can almost hear Judas singing,

“Listen, Jesus, do you care for your race?

Don't you see we must keep in our place?

We are occupied; have you forgotten how put down we are?

I am frightened by the crowd.

For we are getting much too loud.

And they'll crush us if we go too far.

If they go too far....

Listen, Jesus, to the warning I give.

Please remember that I want us to live.

But it's sad to see our chances weakening with every hour.

All your followers are blind.

Too much heaven on their minds.”

When Jesus begins his ministry the Jews have long been waiting for a superstar to rescue them from their Roman oppressors.  Even though the homeless Jesus of Nazareth seems  to have no shortage of superpowers to heal, cast out demons and teach with authority, he fails when it comes to miraculously freeing the masses from their afflictions.  So it is not surprising that the same crowd that waves palms and sings “Hosannas” as Jesus enters Jerusalem a mere week later exchanges their praises for the piercing cries, “Crucify him. Crucify him.” 

It is the morning after his donkey ride into Jerusalem when Jesus enters the temple and immediately  “drive(s) out those who sold and those who bought in the temple, and he overturn(s) the tables of the moneychangers…” And then Jesus dares to declare, “Is it not written, 'My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations'? But you have made it a den of robbers.” 

Can you hear the people protest? “Jesus, what are you doing? You are making things worse for us? The Temple is the centre of our worship, commerce and national identity. Not only does it house our religious scripture but also the national literature. It is the meeting place of the highest court of Jewish law, the Sanhedrin. Jesus, you are upsetting the chief priests and scribes, making them afraid. Nothing good can come of this.”

Undeterred, the next day Jesus and his disciples return to the temple. Once again Jesus foils both religious and political officials when they plot to entrap him and then in a fate filled turn of tongue he hammers the proverbial nail into his cross when as he leaves the temple he says, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.” (Mk 13.2)  

And we hear CAIAPHAS singing.

“Tell the rabble to be quiet, we anticipate a riot. 

This common crowd, is much too loud. 

Tell the mob who sing your song that they are fools and they are wrong. 

They are a curse. They should disperse.”

Jesus is silent.

Realizing it is out of jealousy that the chief priests have handed Jesus over, Pilate asks the crowd, “Do you want me to release for you the King of the Jews?” Meanwhile, hoping to secure their place of privilege with the Romans the chief priests stir up the crowd. Should such a thing happen today I suspect the instigators would  use social media to incite the crowd. But I digress.

Pilate spoke to them again, “Then what do you wish me to do with the man you call the King of the Jews?” They shouted back, “Crucify him!” So “Pilate, wishing to satisfy the crowd… handed Jesus over to be crucified.” 

Here it is tempting to reference the sociology of crowd behavior; how a combination of social conditions that cause people to be frustrated and angry (being occupied and oppressed by the ruling class), a distinctive precipitating event (someone or something is identified to blame, the superstar has failed to save them)  and a lack of social control (no fear of punishment or reprisal for acting out, the officials are actually inciting the crowd), are the ground from which protest and violent collective behavior arise. * 

Returning to our story we see Jesus nailed to a cross. All who pass by him, including the chief priests and scribes, mock him and demand that if indeed he “would destroy the temple and build it in three day,” he should use his superpowers to save himself.  And when Jesus cries out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” we are not surprised that other bystanders call for another superstar, Elijah, to intervene. 

What is surprising is this. A Roman centurion, no doubt the soldier responsible for Jesus’ execution, a man with neither connection nor affection for the Temple or the Jewish God, the centurion is the only person in the crowd who recognizes God in the presence of the crucified Jesus. The centurion is the first person to see, know and believe the paradox of the cross which he declares saying, “Truly this man was God’s son.”

I have no idea what awakened  the centurion. I wonder if it was the dignity with which Jesus faced his accusers. Perhaps Jesus’ courage and composure while enduring unspeakable humiliation broke something open inside him. However we explain this, in some way the soldier was profoundly present. With no personal stake in the outcome he was able to see beyond the chaos of the circumstance to the mysterious presence of God with the suffering Jesus.  

Another surprising thing about this story is the unlikely superstar; a homeless Jewish man who wanders the Judean countryside loving on people, preaching peace and praying, a superstar murdered by political and religious officials who are afraid of his superpower love, a superstar who consents to his life and his death without ever turning away from God. 

Therein hides the secret of  the superstar’s power.  He finds his superpower in God alone.  Which makes me wonder if as Jesus faced Herod, Pilate and all those who mocked, scorned and betrayed him, if he might have been silently singing the words of David’s Psalm? 

^“”For God alone my soul waits in silence… 

 God alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; 

I shall never be shaken.” (Ps 62.1-2) 

I wonder if in some mysterious way the centurion heard Jesus’ silent song. Do you?

*Smelser, N. J. (1963). Theory of collective behavior. New York, NY: Free Press.

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Prayer & Hebrew Testament Text for Sunday 21 March 2021

Prayer Almighty God, you alone can bring into order the unruly wills and affections of sinners: Grant your people grace to love what you command and desire what you promise; that, among the swift and varied changes of the world, our hearts may surely there be fixed where true joys are to be found; through Jesus the Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Jeremiah 31:31-34 The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah. It will not be like the covenant that I made with their ancestors when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt—a covenant that they broke, though I was their husband, says the Lord. But this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, says the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, “Know the Lord,” for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.

Reflection        Speaking on behalf of God the prophet Jeremiah declares, “I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people.”  This all inclusive, unconditional promise is everything we humans need.  God’s law is written on our hearts. Which is why “God alone brings into order (our) unruly wills and affections…” God alone brings peace and joy into “the swift and varied changes of the world.”

With God’s law written on our hearts why do we have so much difficulty navigating the swift and varied changes of the world?

I believe instead of listening to and acting on our heart inscribed wisdom we are distracted by arguments over the interpretation of laws that are cleverly crafted by humans aligned with their self interest rather than the will of God. Which brings us to the question, “What is the will or the law of God?” 

Not only is it spelled out in the Decalogue given to Moses on Mount Sinai, if we are distracted by arguments over the precise application of the Ten Commandments we can find the heart of the law in Jesus’ response to the scribe who asks him, “What is the most important commandment?” Jesus answers, “The most important is, ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. And you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ (Mark 12.28-34)

These words are so familiar, surely they are written on our hearts. Still we flounder. How are we to love God ‘with all our heart?’ And what does ‘heart’ mean anyway?  It must be more than a bloody pump delivering oxygen on behalf of the lungs to keep our cheeks rosy. It must be more than emotions delivered on lace trimmed Valentines. 

As early as the third century Christian hermits living in the desert understood the heart to be an organ of perceptivity, the site of engagement with Divine Wisdom. The well respected theologian, Episcopal priest and teacher of nondual Christianity, Cynthia Bourgeault writes, “According to the great Christian, Jewish and Islamic wisdom traditions, the heart is first and foremost an organ of spiritual perception.” (The Heart of Centering Prayer, p54) 

When we turn our minds to read the law written on our hearts we see beneath the surface of things to a deeper reality. Divine wisdom is written on our hearts and every single one of us has direct access to it. Here is the thing. Human access to Divine Wisdom has always been available. But, it has been covered up by religious institution and buried beneath doctrine. Borrowing language from early Eastern Orthodox spiritual writings  Bourgeault counsels us, “Put the mind in the heart…. Put the mind in the heart…. Stand before the Lord with the mind in the heart.”(p53)

If you are rolling your eyes and thinking, “That is great for ancient hermits and really religious folks, but what does this have to do with me?” the answer is, “Everything.”  Everything that has ever been missing, everything you have ever truly desired is written on your heart.”God’s law is written on our hearts and God alone can bring order to our wily wills and swiftly changing lives.  All we have to do is stop and literally put our attention on our hearts ‘where true joy is found.’ 

When we consciously and conscientiously endeavor to “put the mind in the heart” we begin to break through the boundaries and barriers that prevent us from accessing the Wisdom written on our hearts. When we regularly take time to pause and deliberately fix our minds in our hearts we make ourselves available to experience Divine Wisdom. In Jeremiah’s words, “To know the Lord.” 

We have spent a year bombarded by the ‘swift and varied changes of the world.’ Our affections have been disordered, our wills weakened and our patience worn out. Rather than looking for the latest shout out telling us what we ‘need to know’ about coronavirus, the stock market, the moral degradation of leaders, whatever news stirs up emotion and puts cash in the pockets of a few, it is time to put our minds in our hearts, to break through the noise that bars us from directly experiencing the promise Jeremiah made to humanity on behalf of God twenty six hundred years ago, “I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. No longer shall they teach one another, (in other words, no longer are we to give priority to rules contrived by humans and the emotional pandering of ceaseless news cycles)… for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord…” 

Listen to Cynthia Bourgeault elaborate on “Radiant Intimacy of the Heart” by clicking on the image at the upper right corner of this post. 

Art by Alex Grey

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Hebrew Testament & Gospel for Fourth Sunday in Lent 14 March 2021

Numbers 21:4-9        From Mount Hor the Israelites set out by the way to the Red Sea, to go around the land of Edom; but the people became impatient on the way. The people spoke against God and against Moses, “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food.” Then the Lord sent poisonous serpents among the people, and they bit the people, so that many Israelites died. The people came to Moses and said, “We have sinned by speaking against the Lord and against you; pray to the Lord to take away the serpents from us.” So Moses prayed for the people. And the Lord said to Moses, “Make a poisonous serpent, and set it on a pole; and everyone who is bitten shall look at it and live.” So Moses made a serpent of bronze, and put it upon a pole; and whenever a serpent bit someone, that person would look at the serpent of bronze and live.

John 3:14-21        Jesus said, “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.

“Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him. Those who believe in him are not condemned; but those who do not believe are condemned already, because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God. And this is the judgment, that the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil. For all who do evil hate the light and do not come to the light, so that their deeds may not be exposed. But those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.”

Reflection        Poor Moses. After all the plagues he handled  to lead God’s people out of Egypt (bloody water, frogs, lice, flies, boils, hail, locusts), instead of being grateful for their newfound freedom the people “become impatient,” complain about their miserable food (who wants manna? we want meat), and “speak against Moses and God.” The poisonous serpents of faithlessness and unconscionable complaining corrupt the hearts and minds of the people Israel and they suffer in the poison of their own protests.

We know how this plays out. Someone whines and grumbles about the way things are. Pretty soon a chorus gathers around the complaint. Social media gets the message and ignites a match. And in a timeless second a protest is roaring with people swallowing their own poison and dying in the wilderness. This is the story of Moses and the moaning Israelites. This is the story of the fickle crowds in Jerusalem demanding, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” on the fateful day for Jesus. This is the story of our country today, with volleys of revolts erupting from the extreme right and flaring back from the far left. 

As if standing in a pit of poisonous snakes, we are split into feverish corners until a crowd is bent on an arc toward destruction. From the ten thousand feet above the ground perspective we can no longer distinguish one side from the other because we are all pointing poison fingers and looking for someone to blame for being stuck between the way things used to be and the promised land. Still, we are not condemned to this agony.

Looking to Moses we discover a way out of this hopeless hostility. Praying on behalf of the Israelites Moses first turns to God then offers the snaky masses something new to look at. Lifting up the bronze serpent Moses invites the cranky crowd to turn their eyes to healing rather than complaining and yearning for yesterdyear.

This was the first time the image of a serpent entwined on a pole enters humanity’s imagination. The Israelites are stuck between Egypt and the promised land, looking with longing backward to the way things used to be until Moses gives them something new to look at. The image of a serpent wrapped around a pole came to be associated with the Greek god Asclepius, the god of healing and medicine.* Today we see the symbol associated with the World Health Organization, The American Medical Association and on the sides of ambulances. What does this perennial symbol have to do with us? I believe it invites us to turn our eyes to healing rather than complaining and yearning for the way things used to be.

Four hundred years after Moses Jesus is still trying to get God’s people to stop protesting and see something new. Much like Moses lifting the serpent in the wilderness Jesus offers himself to be lifted up as something new to look at and be healed. I can almost hear the duet, Moses and Jesus pleading, “People, don’t you see? If you choose to look at the bronze serpent instead of the miserable food and your thirst to arrive at the promised land, if you choose to look at Jesus’ walk through suffering in the company of God, you choose life. You are healed.”

What do we choose to look at? To what do we give our attention?

As social beings in the twenty-first century we can protest forever about our rights; economic, social, cultural, civil and political. We can whip ourselves into frenzies, wag our biting fingers like so many venomous snakes or we can choose to look at something new, something risen from our wilderness journey between the idealized way things used to be and the promised land. Let us not forget, the Israelites were slaves to the Egyptians before Moses led them into the wilderness. Why would they want to go back to that?  Likewise, when we remove our collective rose colored glasses we must confess, our past is not pristine. 

Here is the thing, poisonous protests rise on both sides of the aisle and sing every note on the scale. Since the beginning of the beginning this has been our story. Do we really want to continue suffering in the poison of our own protests? Do we really want to choose death and listen to ourselves speaking against God and Moses and crying “Crucify him?” How many hundreds or thousands of years before we choose to look at something new rising in the wilderness between the way things used to be and the promised land? 

 Today is a turning point in our journey. We are being led out of Egypt, out of the reach of Covid-19 into the wilderness where we will either find or lose ourselves while wandering between the way things used to be and the promised land.  It is time us to open our eyes to see something new. This is a matter of life or death.  

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*  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rod_of_Asclepius

Gospel text for 3rd Sunday of Lent 7 March 2021

 John 2:13-22           The Passover of the Jews was near, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. In the temple he found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and the money changers seated at their tables. Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple, both the sheep and the cattle. He also poured out the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. He told those who were selling the doves, “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!” His disciples remembered that it was written, “Zeal for your house will consume me.” The Jews then said to him, “What sign can you show us for doing this?” Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” The Jews then said, “This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and will you raise it up in three days?” But he was speaking of the temple of his body. After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this; and they believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken.

Reflection        It was this time last year, as the Passover of the Jews was near and Christians were fast approaching Holy Week that the coronavirus erupted in the United States and across the globe. Much like Jesus’ whip of cords wrecking havoc with the commerce and routines of temple life, Covid-19 burst onto the scene overturning the tables of our personal, social, political and religious lives. 

Here we are, one year later, standing in the ruins of the way things used to be with rampant disease, raging hunger, homelessness, helplessness, dislocation and virulent fear masking itself at every corner. Even if we have managed to carve out a comfortable cave for ourself in the midst of all of this turmoil, the unimpeded commerce of our lives has been curbed. 

This, I believe, adds substantial weight to Jesus’ words. “Stop making my father’s house a marketplace!” The truth is, much like our ancestors we strive to stamp certainty onto our fragile lives by identifying with external expressions of piety and  fashioning false gods that we can see and hold onto. But woe to us who try to secure our lives with paper decrees,  hallowed halls and hollow deities. Woe to us who set our selves up to be scammed and seduced. Woe to us who put our faith and fealty in institutions and possessions that tempt and pervert us. Still, there is a way beyond this.

This being Lent, the season of self examination, it is time for us to stop, look into candor’s mirror and admit we look much like the Israelites who when tired of waiting for Moses to return from his meeting with God on Mount Sinai, forged their infamous golden calf and worshipped it. It behooves us to ask ourselves, what are our gods? jewelry? juicy 401K? multiple homes? comfortable retirement? youth? vacations? cars? career? collections of everything from old vinyls to books, boots or art? It is time to blow the smoke off of our mirrors and be honest with our selves. 

This is a fundamental message of our year living with Covid. The zeal that we have shown for the houses built, portfolios secured, positions attained, privileges gained, traditions maintained, our zeal for our social, political and religious institutions has imprisoned us. Sequestered within the walls of our own construction we are separated from the trustworthiness of God. 

Our passion, our ardor, our zeal is meant to be for the One, Holy and Living God. God of our ancestors Abraham, Isaac and Joseph. God of Moses that is forged in the mystery of our hearts and can never be captured in anything fashioned by our hands. If only we would order our lives according to the wisdom that must have informed Jesus heart. Please hear in the words of Deuteronomy, the Second Law of the Hebrew Testament,  words that tradition tells us were spoken by Moses to Israel, words that anchor Jesus’ life and ministry in God. 

“Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. “ Deut 6.4-6

How easily our mouths move to make these words, words spoken six hundred years before the current era and drawn from sources centuries older than that, ageless words straining to explain the meaning of the frequent disasters met upon humanity.  Yes, we can say these words but when it comes to acting on them we tend to be weak willed and easily seduced by specious promises of stability.  Three thousand years later we still wrestle with waiting at the edge of uncertainty and strain to recover the familiar. We do not notice our hardening hearts until Jesus’ words shatter us. “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.”  We protest. “What? Destroy this temple? this institution? this lifestyle?  this comfortable rut? It has taken forever to construct and it is all that we know.” 

Perhaps today Jesus would elaborate. “Your hearts desire will never be sated by the bricks and mortar of your establishments. Your passion, your ardor, your zeal is misplaced.”  And there we have it.  

The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. Our zeal for the things of this life is misplaced (which is not to say we cannot appreciate and care for them). But the passion, the ardor, the zeal of our hearts is meant to be directed toward and absorbed in God and God alone. Our thoughts, feelings, attentions and affections; all that we say and all that we do are meant to begin, continue and end in the One, Holy and Living God.  

It is not easy to watch the tables of our personal, social, political and religious lives turned upside down but until we let what is impermanent die we will not rise in the trustworthiness of the Lord, our God, the only One.

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