Well, the big news in my hometown is that our beloved basketball coach is probably leaving for the University of Kentucky. As recently as Thursday, Cal, as he’s known, made it plain that he loves Memphis and is very happy here. Of course that was before the U of K offered him as much as $40M over the next 8 years to come there. While I’m disappointed that he’s leaving—he’ll take his staff and most of the top recruiting class he had planned for Memphis—that’s not my major disappointment.
My major disappointment has to do with priorities--and not even his. The media have been going nuts over the pending decision. TV reporters are camped out at the University and Cal’s home. One station put a webcam up showing the door to his home to catch him coming or going. Reports have been coming in all day for two days—its headline news. Well, yes. It is a big deal when a major university known for its powerhouse basketball team loses its head coach. But.
But, what? Over the past weekend, while some of this was beginning to develop, 5000 women of various races, theological backgrounds, and ages gathered in Memphis to promote racial unity and harmony in our city. A city which is continuously torn by the playing of the “race card” and can find racial overtones and undercurrents in almost everything. Yet, 5000 women got together and said, “Enough. Let’s look for ways to reconcile, to grow together to get past the past.” And the media response? Just about what you’d expect. Almost nothing was written or televised about it. I’m not surprised, but I am disappointed.
It reminded me of the Gospel for this coming Sunday. When Jesus enters Jerusalem the people go crazy. Palm branches, shouts of “Hosanna!” Lots of excitement. And there is a crowd when he is tried too. They shout “Crucify him!” But where is the crowd when, a few days later, he is reported resurrected? I’d think that would be a major deal too. But, beyond the few faithful, nobody notices. As the story is told, people respond to it, but at the time—no crowds, no shouts, no nothing.
Maybe that’s what will happen here. Cal will decide and leave and we’ll get a new coach. He’ll rebuild and we’ll be a contender again. And while the papers and TV are reporting each step of the way, these women and those they influence will be about the more important business of peace-making. All without fanfare. One can only hope. And pray.
Peace,
Jerry+
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Seeing Jesus
They tell Philip they want to see Jesus in this coming Sunday's Gospel reading. We see him already, we think, but maybe seeing in a new light would be helpful.
A lot of people I talk to don’t care much for Lent. They don’t like the Holy Week services, especially the Maundy Thursday stripping of the altar. Good Friday’s stark vision of a wooden cross, as sounds of the hammer echoes in the church seems far too ugly and dark for them. Easter, now that’s different. Beautiful music with extra instruments, hymns and anthems of hope and life. The gold of the cross gleams unveiled again in the procession and on the altar. It’s uplifting. Yes, it is uplifting, inspiring, bright, refreshing, vibrant—what’s not to like?
But, none of these Easter moments can happen if Jesus doesn’t go to the garden and, with great torment, so much so that he sweats blood, dies to himself. As much as he loves life, he will not cling to it for his sake; instead he lets go for our sake. As much as he might want to have more time with his disciples to proclaim his message, he knows he cannot have it without eternal peril to himself and us. Instead he faces the inevitable and he tells the Greeks, “it is for this reason that I have come to this hour….” that is, it is because I love you more than life itself, that I have come to this hour.”
There is no Easter resurrection without the waving of palm branches and the subsequent cry of “crucify him!” from those very same people. There is no Easter resurrection without Jesus experiencing Maundy Thursday’s betrayal by Judas and by sleeping friends who cannot stay awake for him one hour. There is no Easter resurrection without Good Friday’s abandonment by the inner circle of friends. There is no Easter resurrection without Jesus’ torture, suffering, and death. There is no Easter resurrection without Jesus hanging limp and bleeding on the cross.
It may be we have lost something important when we, unlike our Roman brothers and sisters, view the empty cross. Their use of a crucifix requires them to focus on the horror inflicted on Jesus, on death’s apparent victory much more than we. Maybe we have sanitized his sacrifice too much by venerating an empty golden cross. Maybe we spend too little time remembering the terrible cost to him because we focus to much on the benefit to us. I don’t know what the balance should be between these things.
But at this season, somewhere between sweet little Jesus in the manger and glorious Jesus robed in white, ascending to heaven, somewhere between these images, I think we would do well to focus more on the cost. And this is precisely that time of the year to see Jesus in a new light. A light that illumines the broken body, streaked with sweat, spittle, and his life’s blood. A face looking down, weighed by the crown that slices into his scalp. A face streaked with tears as he says goodbye to his mother. Parched lips that mutter a prayer and a sigh too deep for words. A chest that heaves its last and is violated by a spear. A body hanging in death, swarmed by flies who cannot wait for the warmth of life to ebb away, replaced by the cold of death.
I want to keep that image in front of me for more than the service of Good Friday. Maybe when I hear the crisp snap when the host is broken during the Eucharist, I want to remember his unspeakable anguish and the incredible love for me that it represents. Maybe then, I can leave worship, seeing my responsibly to love and serve in a new light.
Peace,
Jerry+
A lot of people I talk to don’t care much for Lent. They don’t like the Holy Week services, especially the Maundy Thursday stripping of the altar. Good Friday’s stark vision of a wooden cross, as sounds of the hammer echoes in the church seems far too ugly and dark for them. Easter, now that’s different. Beautiful music with extra instruments, hymns and anthems of hope and life. The gold of the cross gleams unveiled again in the procession and on the altar. It’s uplifting. Yes, it is uplifting, inspiring, bright, refreshing, vibrant—what’s not to like?
But, none of these Easter moments can happen if Jesus doesn’t go to the garden and, with great torment, so much so that he sweats blood, dies to himself. As much as he loves life, he will not cling to it for his sake; instead he lets go for our sake. As much as he might want to have more time with his disciples to proclaim his message, he knows he cannot have it without eternal peril to himself and us. Instead he faces the inevitable and he tells the Greeks, “it is for this reason that I have come to this hour….” that is, it is because I love you more than life itself, that I have come to this hour.”
There is no Easter resurrection without the waving of palm branches and the subsequent cry of “crucify him!” from those very same people. There is no Easter resurrection without Jesus experiencing Maundy Thursday’s betrayal by Judas and by sleeping friends who cannot stay awake for him one hour. There is no Easter resurrection without Good Friday’s abandonment by the inner circle of friends. There is no Easter resurrection without Jesus’ torture, suffering, and death. There is no Easter resurrection without Jesus hanging limp and bleeding on the cross.
It may be we have lost something important when we, unlike our Roman brothers and sisters, view the empty cross. Their use of a crucifix requires them to focus on the horror inflicted on Jesus, on death’s apparent victory much more than we. Maybe we have sanitized his sacrifice too much by venerating an empty golden cross. Maybe we spend too little time remembering the terrible cost to him because we focus to much on the benefit to us. I don’t know what the balance should be between these things.
But at this season, somewhere between sweet little Jesus in the manger and glorious Jesus robed in white, ascending to heaven, somewhere between these images, I think we would do well to focus more on the cost. And this is precisely that time of the year to see Jesus in a new light. A light that illumines the broken body, streaked with sweat, spittle, and his life’s blood. A face looking down, weighed by the crown that slices into his scalp. A face streaked with tears as he says goodbye to his mother. Parched lips that mutter a prayer and a sigh too deep for words. A chest that heaves its last and is violated by a spear. A body hanging in death, swarmed by flies who cannot wait for the warmth of life to ebb away, replaced by the cold of death.
I want to keep that image in front of me for more than the service of Good Friday. Maybe when I hear the crisp snap when the host is broken during the Eucharist, I want to remember his unspeakable anguish and the incredible love for me that it represents. Maybe then, I can leave worship, seeing my responsibly to love and serve in a new light.
Peace,
Jerry+
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Questions
The Gospel for this coming Sunday is probably the most familiar and most often quoted. The two characters are Nicodemus and Jesus.
Nicodemus had questions and he probably expected answers. He was an important man in the community. A good man. A ruler of the Jews, a teacher of some stature, one who should know the truth about God and his people. John 19 would have us believe he was a man of wealth, too, joining Joseph of Arimathea in preparing Jesus for burial. No doubt he had heard about Jesus from some of his students who had heard Jesus. I suppose he could have felt threatened by this new teacher in the community, but I don't think he did. He thought he could learn something. So he went. I admire that.
On the other hand, there is a troubling fact about him. He came to Jesus under the cover of darkness. Sort of sneaked around to pose some important questions to Jesus. I guess, even though he was a good man, a wise man, he was not a brave man. It wouldn't be smart to be seen talking alone to this Nazarene trouble maker. Guilt by association, you know. Later, didn't Peter face that same problem? "You're one of them," the woman at the fire would say. Peter was afraid. So afraid, he denied his association with Jesus, not once but three times, and with a curse, at that. Yeah, being seen with Jesus could be risky. So after dark, Nicodemus makes his way to Jesus.
I wonder what Nicodemus was planning to ask Jesus? Here's how he begins: "Teachers, we know that you are a teacher come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do, unless God is with him." Having said, in effect, "You are someone who can teach me something, " Nicodemus is preparing to ask Jesus something. But he doesn't get to. Before he can say a word, Jesus speaks, almost certainly answering nothing Nicodemus wanted to ask. But apparently it was something Jesus felt he should hear. Even so, he didn't understand and asks for clarification. Jesus says, "Truly, I say to you, unless one is born anew, he cannot see the kingdom of God." You know the whole story: this is John 3:16 and the follow up.
But here’s what I wonder: what was Nicodemus going to ask? If you had the chance, what would you ask Jesus?
Peace,
Jerry+
Nicodemus had questions and he probably expected answers. He was an important man in the community. A good man. A ruler of the Jews, a teacher of some stature, one who should know the truth about God and his people. John 19 would have us believe he was a man of wealth, too, joining Joseph of Arimathea in preparing Jesus for burial. No doubt he had heard about Jesus from some of his students who had heard Jesus. I suppose he could have felt threatened by this new teacher in the community, but I don't think he did. He thought he could learn something. So he went. I admire that.
On the other hand, there is a troubling fact about him. He came to Jesus under the cover of darkness. Sort of sneaked around to pose some important questions to Jesus. I guess, even though he was a good man, a wise man, he was not a brave man. It wouldn't be smart to be seen talking alone to this Nazarene trouble maker. Guilt by association, you know. Later, didn't Peter face that same problem? "You're one of them," the woman at the fire would say. Peter was afraid. So afraid, he denied his association with Jesus, not once but three times, and with a curse, at that. Yeah, being seen with Jesus could be risky. So after dark, Nicodemus makes his way to Jesus.
I wonder what Nicodemus was planning to ask Jesus? Here's how he begins: "Teachers, we know that you are a teacher come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do, unless God is with him." Having said, in effect, "You are someone who can teach me something, " Nicodemus is preparing to ask Jesus something. But he doesn't get to. Before he can say a word, Jesus speaks, almost certainly answering nothing Nicodemus wanted to ask. But apparently it was something Jesus felt he should hear. Even so, he didn't understand and asks for clarification. Jesus says, "Truly, I say to you, unless one is born anew, he cannot see the kingdom of God." You know the whole story: this is John 3:16 and the follow up.
But here’s what I wonder: what was Nicodemus going to ask? If you had the chance, what would you ask Jesus?
Peace,
Jerry+
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Bringing a Whip
This coming Sunday’s Gospel is a familiar one--Jesus drives the moneychangers from the Temple. You remember the particulars? Passover is approaching and Jesus goes to the Temple and there finds this holy place a virtual zoo. All kinds of animals appropriate for sacrifice are for sale within the Temple confines. And since the only currency acceptable was Temple currency, moneychangers were available to exchange (at a profit) the various currencies of the pilgrims for the acceptable coins.
Jesus is not angry about the sacrificial system. But something is wrong here. Rather than bring animals from outside the Temple, perhaps animals from their own flocks or herds, the Temple had been turned into a convenience store. Don’t have time to shop for a spotless dove? No problem. We’ll furnish you one.
So I think two things are going on with Jesus. First is the obvious one of stinking stalls of animals within a place consecrated to prayer and worship of God. The other is the people’s kind of pro forma approach to worship. They are willing to keep the law of sacrifice, but don’t want the inconvenience of bringing their own or obtaining one from the marketplace stalls. Maybe a kind of shallow expression of faith.
Perhaps I’m straining with this second point. But for just a minute, what if I’m on target? What parallel can be drawn from that time to this?
I read yesterday that the number of people in this country who define themselves as Christian is declining in this country. And the number that indicate they have no religion at all is increasing. Are these two facts somehow related to the witness of those who do define themselves as religious and as Christian? Have people looked at the life of self-identified Christians and found them to be shallow, inconsistent, or just outright hypocritical? I think so.
A look at the typical budget of the typical congregation will indicate that the amount spent on the poor or other mission enterprises will likely be ten percent or less. Almost all the money is spent on self-maintenance. OK, I understand, I really do. To do any good, to care for the souls of those who are members of the congregation, takes money. But isn’t the point of church-going worship and service? Going forth to serve?
If Jesus showed up at our churches this coming Sunday, would he be bringing a whip?
Peace,
Jerry+
P.S. One of my responsibilities in the parish for about four years was the conduct of worship at a nearby retirement community. The parish didn't continue that work when I retired. Just prior to Ash Wednesday, the retirement community contacted and asked if I'd resume the services, since they had been without since last April. So, last week I returned for the first time in a year. I'll be going back once, maybe twice a month, again. I'm grateful for this opportunity to lead worship, preside at the Eucharist, and preach again. Please pray for the little community and for me.
Jesus is not angry about the sacrificial system. But something is wrong here. Rather than bring animals from outside the Temple, perhaps animals from their own flocks or herds, the Temple had been turned into a convenience store. Don’t have time to shop for a spotless dove? No problem. We’ll furnish you one.
So I think two things are going on with Jesus. First is the obvious one of stinking stalls of animals within a place consecrated to prayer and worship of God. The other is the people’s kind of pro forma approach to worship. They are willing to keep the law of sacrifice, but don’t want the inconvenience of bringing their own or obtaining one from the marketplace stalls. Maybe a kind of shallow expression of faith.
Perhaps I’m straining with this second point. But for just a minute, what if I’m on target? What parallel can be drawn from that time to this?
I read yesterday that the number of people in this country who define themselves as Christian is declining in this country. And the number that indicate they have no religion at all is increasing. Are these two facts somehow related to the witness of those who do define themselves as religious and as Christian? Have people looked at the life of self-identified Christians and found them to be shallow, inconsistent, or just outright hypocritical? I think so.
A look at the typical budget of the typical congregation will indicate that the amount spent on the poor or other mission enterprises will likely be ten percent or less. Almost all the money is spent on self-maintenance. OK, I understand, I really do. To do any good, to care for the souls of those who are members of the congregation, takes money. But isn’t the point of church-going worship and service? Going forth to serve?
If Jesus showed up at our churches this coming Sunday, would he be bringing a whip?
Peace,
Jerry+
P.S. One of my responsibilities in the parish for about four years was the conduct of worship at a nearby retirement community. The parish didn't continue that work when I retired. Just prior to Ash Wednesday, the retirement community contacted and asked if I'd resume the services, since they had been without since last April. So, last week I returned for the first time in a year. I'll be going back once, maybe twice a month, again. I'm grateful for this opportunity to lead worship, preside at the Eucharist, and preach again. Please pray for the little community and for me.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Temptations
Last Sunday's Gospel is Mark's version of Jesus' temptation following his baptism. If you're familiar with Luke and Matthew, this seems like the Reader's Digest version, doesn't it? Where are the three conversations with Satan and the temptations that went along with them? They're not there.
I actually like this version better. Matthew and Luke have the temptations come to Jesus only after his 40 days--after he is at his strongest. Reading Mark's makes it sound as if the temptations came throughout the 40 days when he is struggling with his call and the nature of his ministry. Matthew and Luke have the angels ministering to Jesus after the three temptations. Mark makes it sound as if they are with Jesus all along.
Why do I like this better? In my own life, temptations don't necessarily come when I am most prepared, such as after completing a spiritual discipline. They often come unawares, and almost always when I'm not really spiritually strong--or feeling strong. That's what Mark seems to let us think about Jesus.
Oh, you say, but what about the angels? They don't stop the temptations, they support Jesus, probably during and afterwards. They represent God's grace and power accessible to Jesus. And of course, to us.
So I like this story because I can identify with it. What about you?
Good Lent to you,
Jerry+
I actually like this version better. Matthew and Luke have the temptations come to Jesus only after his 40 days--after he is at his strongest. Reading Mark's makes it sound as if the temptations came throughout the 40 days when he is struggling with his call and the nature of his ministry. Matthew and Luke have the angels ministering to Jesus after the three temptations. Mark makes it sound as if they are with Jesus all along.
Why do I like this better? In my own life, temptations don't necessarily come when I am most prepared, such as after completing a spiritual discipline. They often come unawares, and almost always when I'm not really spiritually strong--or feeling strong. That's what Mark seems to let us think about Jesus.
Oh, you say, but what about the angels? They don't stop the temptations, they support Jesus, probably during and afterwards. They represent God's grace and power accessible to Jesus. And of course, to us.
So I like this story because I can identify with it. What about you?
Good Lent to you,
Jerry+
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