Saturday, April 16, 2022

Holy Saturday

Saturday

 

Emptiness.

Death.

Loss.

 

There are no words to describe the pain of the day after Jesus has died.  Even the Gospel of Mark is silent.

 

Hope is gone.

 

We enter into the silence of this day.

 

And we pray.

 

Pray that this will not be the end.

 

O God,

We have lost our footing 

And we don’t know where to go

Or what to say.

 

When the world’s pain overwhelms us;

When the sting of death is paralyzing;

When the silence of emptiness is too much;

Embrace us and sit with us.

Help us to know, 

To truly know

 

That you’ve got us.

 

You always have us.

 

Amen.

Friday, April 15, 2022

Good Friday

Friday

 

Mark 15: 1-47

 

Jesus didn’t have much to say to Pilate on the morning before his death.  

 

“Are you the King of the Jews?”

 

“You say so.”

 

Shouts from the crowd came fiercely – “Crucify him!”

The soldiers took him to the governor’s headquarters and put a purple cloth around him.  A color of royalty.

They twisted a thorny branch into a circle and forced it onto his head.  A king’s crown.

They made fun of him.  They spat on him.  They mocked him.  Then they ripped the purple cloth off of him and led him away to be crucified.

 

The scripture says it was 9 o’clock in the morning when they crucified him.

At noon, darkness covered the land as Jesus hung there, suffering.  And at 3 pm he managed to cry out in agony – asking where in God’s name was God.

 

Do you remember a long time ago….when Jesus first began his ministry?  After his baptism he was led into the wilderness to learn about the challenge and the hardships that his kind of work would bring.  What would his work be?  To show the world what it means to be a beloved child of God.  To show the world what it looks like to be more like himself.  To show the world that, no matter how gruesome and unjust and cruel life can be – God’s love would be bigger than all the pain and agony and violence they would ever know.  And that God would never be far.

 

In a world where children are bullied….in a world where people are hurt for being who they are….in a world where violence has the upper hand when it comes to handling conflict…. we would be wise not to overlook just how critical Jesus’ work was for us.  People may say it’s easy to love.  People may mock and make fun of the idea of loving one’s neighbor or offering forgiveness to an enemy.

 

But if we are to take Jesus seriously, then we will acknowledge that what appears to be easy is never simple. 

 

Jesus’ work continued with him all the way up to the cross.  It wasn’t the soldiers that led him to the cross.  It was his love for all the world.  It was his oneness with the God of the universe.  It was his transformational work that so many of us would rather reject, or deny, or spit upon, that led him to the cross that day.  

 

And what did he do up until the very end, if not show us just how powerful – and even painful - that love can truly be?

 

Jesus didn’t have much to say on the day of his death.  He let his actions do all the talking.

Perhaps we should do the same.

 

At 3 p.m., Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last.  

 

Dear God,

On a day like today, we think about what a world without Jesus would look like.

And sometimes it feels as though we already live in one.

When we see death and hate and despair.

When we hear the news of children crying for fear of their lives.

And laws get passed to protect the powerful and forsake the poor.

But teach us, on this dreadful day, that your love is never absent.

That our suffering is never in vain.

And that Jesus extended his arms on that cross not because he had to

But because he wanted to. 

Draw us in to that love.

Draw us in to that kind of work.

Amen.

Thursday, April 14, 2022

Maundy Thursday

Thursday 

Mark 14: 22-72

 

The evening began with a meal.  A meal of celebration.  A meal that represented freedom.  The night began like any other.  But as the sun faded behind the clouds, Jesus lifted the bread and the cup and changed the world forever.  

 

“This is my body,” he told them.  “This is my blood.”  Eat.  Drink.  

This is a new covenant, poured out for you.

 

From that point on, the night unfolded.  They entered the garden where Jesus knelt and prayed.  It was a prayer of human despair.  It was a prayer that shows us the true devastation Jesus felt as he waited and watched.  

 

Jesus prayed.  The disciples slept.  Judas betrayed.  The soldiers arrested.

 

Peter followed to the courtyard of the high priest.  There he did the very thing he had vehemently denied he would do.  Peter denied.

 

The night ends with Peter’s tears.  

 

The movement of this day is swift and full.  Take the time to dwell in every moment.  Don’t get so caught up in the drama that we forget the raw emotion that was felt and shared.

 

I wonder if Peter…through the streaming of his tears…. remembered the taste of the bread and wine.  I wonder if he remembered the new covenant that Jesus had given them.  Even him. 

 

Yes, even him.

 

Jesus,

May we remember,

Every time we share in bread and cup,

The great love you have for us.

That you would offer us life

As you lose your own.

That you would offer us love

Even when we turn the other way.

Keep us awake 

And help us boldly claim

To be yours.

Amen.

Wednesday, April 13, 2022

Wedneday of Holy Week

Wednesday

Mark 14: 1-11

 

Jesus is back in Bethany, at the house of Simon the leper.  An unnamed woman sits down beside him and pours oil on his head.  Jesus will say that she is preparing his body for its burial.

 

I wonder if that was the final straw for Judas.  That what he saw in this moment was an exaggerated act of indulgence and waste.  And perhaps he simply couldn’t take any more.  For Wednesday is the day that he left his friends and went to the authorities.  Today is the day we remember the act of betrayal.

 

What is it about Judas that intrigues me so?  Does he intrigue you, too?  Maybe it is because he is so much like us:  

He is a friend that can no longer see the good in a friendship.  

 

He is a worrier that focuses only on worst case scenarios.  

 

He is angry and chooses poorly what to do with his anger.  

 

We do not have to agree with Judas or condone his actions in order to have compassion for him.  Even Jesus had compassion for him.  

 

For he could be us.

 

He could be me.

 

The stakes were high and the plot thickens.  It is Wednesday.

 

Dear God,

Have mercy on me.

I know what I do,

And I do it anyway.

Love me, still.

Amen.

Tuesday, April 12, 2022

Tuesday of Holy Week

Tuesday

Mark 11:20 – 13:37

 

On Tuesday, Jesus goes back to the Temple.  On the way there, he and his disciples pass by the fig tree.  The same one from yesterday.  It is withered and dry.  Peter remembers the curse Jesus had placed upon it and points it out to him.  I find Jesus’ response to be puzzling, and a little off topic.  What does this withered fig tree have to with our faith in God?  With our prayer life?  

 

Today is a long day.  Jesus spends his time in the Temple, teaching and constantly being tested by the chief priests, elders, and scribes.

 

“By what authority are you doing these things?”

“What about taxes to Caesar – should we pay them?”

“What about the woman with seven husbands, whose wife shall she be in the resurrection?”

“Which commandment is greatest of all?”

 

Jesus’ answers do not hesitate to widen the circle of God’s Kingdom.  He talks of new life, of deep love, and of faithfulness.

 

The other piece of Jesus’ teaching has to do with remaining alert and keeping watch when the going gets tough.

 

Tuesday is a hard day.  There are many questions that the scripture brings.  There are many follow-up questions I would like to ask Jesus.  Tuesday is hard because it is a long day and the mental capacity we must have in order to wrap our heads around Jesus’ words and teachings is exhausting.  

 

But perhaps we aren’t meant to wrap our minds completely around every single word.  For God’s ways are not our ways.  Maybe we’re not meant to understand everything.  But as Jesus said in the presence of the withered fig tree – “have faith in God.”  Have faith.  When it’s only Tuesday, have faith.  When the week stretches out dauntingly before us, have faith.  When we are filled with question after question, have faith.

 

Summer is near.  When the branch becomes tender and leaves begin to grow, we will know that God is not far.  Not far at all.

 

Lord, 

Help us to pray on a Tuesday.

And help us to believe

That what we pray for

We have already received.

Amen.

Monday, April 11, 2022

Monday of Holy Week

 Monday

Mark 11: 12-19

 

A lot can happen in seven days.  This is only the beginning of the week.  At this point, Jesus has entered Jerusalem riding on the back of a young donkey.  The crowd is still singing his praises.  He rested from the big entrance in the village of Bethany and woke up hungry.  

 

On this Monday of Holy Week, we tend to focus on the frustration of Jesus as he tore through the Temple, chasing out the money changers and quoting Isaiah 56: 6-7 – “Is it not written, ‘My house shall be called a house of prayer for all the nations’?”  But before this happens, on their way to the Temple, Jesus and his disciples pass by a fig tree.  His stomach growled, so he approached the tree hoping to find some fruit.  He found nothing but leaves.  Jesus, frustrated, cursed the tree and said, “May no one eat fruit from you again.”

 

It is only the beginning hours of the week, and already we sense the frustration and anger in Jesus.  It is an anger not pointed to the nature of the Temple itself, or even the nature of the fig tree, but rather at the lack of goodness that is coming from both.  Tomorrow we will get a better understanding of what this means.  But for now, since it is only Monday, let us sit with Jesus in his frustration and anger.  We don’t often think about Jesus in this way.  But it is only fair that we allow him to have experienced every emotion possible leading up to that fateful day.  What, in our world or lives today, would make Jesus feel frustrated - or even angry?

 

As we reflect upon that question, we must also never forget that Jesus’ anger comes out of his deep and constant love for us all.  Are we bearing fruit to the goodness within us? Or are we merely leaves, flowing in the breeze, taking it all for granted?

 

Jesus,

We are sorry when we are not true to who you call us to be.

On this most difficult of weeks, you ask us to pay attention and to follow you.

Help us to do that, even when we feel as though we can’t, and especially when we would rather not.

Your love makes all things possible.  

Show us the fruit of what this means.

Amen.

Thursday, December 2, 2021

An Advent Prayer

 What does it mean to hope, Dear God?  

When so much of what we see is broken and bruised?

 

When the light dims and the name calling begins?  

When what we found is lost again, 

and those whom we trusted betray?

 

What does it mean to hope, Dear God? 

When our world is crying for its children?  

When the voiceless are shut away and ignored?

 

God your timing brings us again into this season.  

A season where we proclaim hope.  

 

We don’t really understand.

But maybe we don’t have to all the time.

So we do what we can as we wait…

 

We light a candle.  We sing your song.  

We try with every fiber of our being to find the Christ in every face.

 

We hold a hand. We share a hug.  We quiet our hearts and listen.  

We extend a welcome.  We feed a stranger.  We live into the world we hope for.

 

And in doing so, perhaps we will find

the hope we need.