Eastertide #18

A High Priest according to the order of Melchizedek.

(Hebrews 5:11)

Okay, what’s Melchizedek got to do with it? “It’s hard to explain,” acknowledges the writer to the Hebrews (Hb 5:11). We'll give it a try nonetheless. He is the first priest mentioned in the Bible. After Abraham had rescued his nephew Lot from the Valley of the Kings, he receives a blessing from a mysterious Melchizedek of Salem, “the priest of God Most High” who brought him bread and wine and blessed him. It is a brief, seemingly inconsequential encounter, only four verses (Gn 14:18-21); but some thousand years later, Melchizedek reappears in Israel’s hymnal: “You are a priest forever,” they would sing, “according to the order of Melchizedek” (Ps 110:4). I don’t suppose anyone would make much of Melchizedek if it were not for the Psalm; and now, another thousand years later, the Book of Hebrews. But, why?

The word “Messiah” in Hebrew and “Christ” in Greek means Anointed. When we call Jesus “Christ” we are saying Jesus is God’s Anointed One; or, in the case of the Son of God become man, he is “The Anointed One.” In the O.T. anointing is shared by the king, the prophet and the priest. Jesus is The One Anointed to fulfill all three:

1.      The Anointed King as promised to David (2Sam): The King, like a good shepherd, protects the flock and leads us to green pastures.

2.      The Anointed Prophet as promised to Moses (Dt 18): The Prophet brings God’s Word from above to the people below. Jesus not only brings the word from above, but is the eternal Word from above made flesh below.

3.      The Anointed Priest as promise to, surprise, Melchizedek (Ps 110:4): The Priest brings sacrifices for the sins of the people below before God on high.

That is why we need Melchizedek: “You are a priest forever according to the order of Melchizedek” (Hb 5:6 quoting Ps 110:4). Because Christ is our Anointed High Priest, according to the order of Melchizedek, He can make an eternal atoning sacrifice for our sin. He pleads our case before the Father. That’s good news.

Eastertide #17:

An anchor for our soul.

(Hebrews 6:19-20)

At the mention of Melchizedek, the book of Hebrews knows that readers are starting to fade: “About this Melchizedek, we have much to say that is hard to explain, since you have become dull in understanding” (5:11).  Notice, by way of authorship, that the writer(s) is plural: “We have much to say…” Nothing more is said of the author. Who is this “we”? Maybe the “we” is a believing community writing to other believing communities (Hb13:24).  So, if I refer to the author as “she” it can refer to the sending church community since the church is always a she; or, the “she” can be Priscilla who taught even Apollos the deeper things of God. You decide. Maybe a bit of both. Maybe it is written to us from Priscilla’s church (Ro 16:3-4 = Hb 13:24).

Where were we? Oh yes…Melchizedek. Knowing that this is going to be tough going for us; the writer steps back for a chapter to prod us along. We are warned not to become dull Christians: “Do not become sluggish” (chp. 6). To become un-dull and to grow into spiritual maturity means we dare to go deeper into the meaning of the Cross—the meaning of our salvation, of our baptism. With a better knowledge of Melchizedek, we are lead deeper into the meaning of the Cross. Such spiritual understanding will provide, she assures us, a deep “anchor for our soul.”

Eastertide #16: For my granddaughters.

When Christ finished his sacrifice for our sins,

He sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high.

(Hebrews 1:3)

These last few mornings I’ve spent my fire pit time reading through the New Testament book of Hebrews. It seems to me a good Eastertide read—much about the meaning of the Cross and Christ’s ascension to the Father. I’ve never enjoyed the book much—too many angels and then there’s that Melchizedek thing—even the writer seems to bog down: “Of these things we cannot speak now in detail” (9:5). Whenever I’m tempted to give up on it, the writer to the Hebrews warns me that I better stick with it: “Solid food for the mature” (5:14); the writer keeps telling me—like a mother telling her children to eat their vegetables.

So far, I have two thoughts from the book of Hebrews: 1) What a majestic first paragraph; and 2) I’ve got an idea concerning authorship. Why is it anonymous? Martin Luther thought Apollos wrote it since Apollos was “an eloquent man, well-versed in scriptures” (Ac 18:24). That sounds like the book of Hebrews—a bunch of scripture accompanied by eloquent interpretations. But who taught Apollos “the way of God more accurately”? Was it not Priscilla (Ac 18:26)? And since I have a granddaughter that bears Priscilla’s name; and, since all my granddaughters are bright and beautiful; and, since they are not altogether pleased with the church’s attitude towards women; let’s say the book of Hebrews was written by Priscilla. Why not? I like the book better already.

Eastertide #15:  Sunday 3 of 7.

The atoning sacrifice for our sins.

(First John 2:2)

“Atoning sacrifice…” What is that? For starters, we know it had to do with God’s love: “God loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins” (1Jn 4:10). And, that it had to do with the whole wide world: “Christ is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world” (1Jn 2:2). And, creation itself: “Creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay” (Ro 8:21). And this “atoning sacrifice” had to do with “the blood of the cross” (Col 1:20).

Why the Cross? Why such violence? If God is God, why couldn’t he just let it go; or, in some bloodless way deal with “the sins of the world”? What is going on in the Godhead while Jesus hangs on the Cross? Or, maybe we should just let it go and be grateful that our sins are forgiven. Maybe the “why” of the Cross is “too wonderful for me;” and I best “calm myself and quiet my ambitions” and simply “put all my hope in the Lord both now and forevermore” (Ps 131).

Eastertide #14:

I am wounded by love.

(Song of Song 2:5)

You would think Easter Morning would remove the wounds of the Crucifixion; but the scares remain: nail scared hands and feet and a fifth scare where a spear pierced his side. As the riddle goes: “What are the five man made things we will see in heaven?”

Our resurrected Lord makes a point of it: “Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself” (Lk 24:39). It is the Crucified One who God has raised form the grave. Christ is raised as our Crucified Savior “making peace through the blood of his cross” (Col 1:19-20). Or, as John preaches: “God loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins” (1Jn 2:2). Easter is what makes the wounds of Friday Good. On the Cross, out of God’s love, God is working out what has to be worked out to make for peace.

Eastertide #13:

It is I myself

(Luke 24:39)

That hymn about how we shall know Him by the nail prints in his hand, continues to play in my head. It speaks of a remarkable continuity between Jesus’s earthly body and his heavenly body. When our resurrected Lord first appeared to the disciples, they figured they saw a ghost. “Look at my hands and feet,” Jesus says to them, “see it is I myself …for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have” (Lk 24:39). He was so real that he hung around for something to eat. Without “flesh and bones” he wouldn’t be Jesus—he wouldn’t be himself.

He is God, yet we can’t help but be surprised by how human our resurrected Lord remains. He does not shed his humanity. In fact, he seems to have fun with his resurrected body—pretending with the Emmaus couple; or, barbequing breakfast on the shore of Galilee. Nor, will he abandoned his humanity when he ascends to the Father to intercede on our behalf. So human, that the Apostle calls the Son of God today, “The Human Christ Jesus” (1Tm 2:5).

It’s because of Easter that we believe in our own resurrection: “Since death came through a human being, the resurrection of the dead has also come through a human being; for as all die in Adam, so all will be made alive in Christ. But each in his own order: Christ the first fruits, then at his coming those who belong to Christ” (1Cor 15:21-23). It will be “I myself” raised from the dead. Not exactly “myself,” but a cleaned-up, “further clothed” (2Cor 5:4), and fit for glory self. Like Jesus, we are not ourselves without our bodies.

Eastertide #12:

When they had finished breakfast,

Jesus said…

(John 21:15)

There is much lingering after that barbecue breakfast on the shore of Galilee. Jesus and Peter discuss love and caring for the sheep and lambs; that’s the church—that’s us. Peter discovers he will grow old and die before Christ returns. When Peter asked about John and if the Lord will return before John dies, Jesus replies, “What is that to you? Follow me!” And so it goes.

Before John concludes his Gospel, he reminds the reader that “this was the third time Jesus appeared to his disciples.” Let’s see, I hadn’t bothered to count:

1.      Appearance to the ten when the Emmaus couple dropped in on them.

2.      Appearance to the eleven when Thomas, who missed the first, joins them.

3.      Appearance on the shore of Galilee.

Luke calls these appearances “convincing proofs” (Ac 1:3). Is that so? The appearances became proof enough for the disciples. Otherwise, they would never have become Apostles. When “ordered not to speak or teach at all in the name of Jesus,” they answered, “We cannot keep from speaking about what we have seen and heard” (Ac 4:18-21). For us who have never seen the Crucified’s nail scared hands or touched his wounded side; we need an extra blessing: “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe” (Jn 20:31). We need Pentecost. We wait to see what Thomas saw—those five man made things that survive into eternity.

There is a hymn, from my youth, that’s been sneaking back into my soul as hymns tend to do. It’s the refrain: “I shall know Him by the nail prints in His hand.” Precious, but odd. As if when we get to glory we’ll have to check out his hands to make sure it is Jesus. But precious nonetheless. The hymn speaks of our longing to see what Thomas saw. That will settle it.

Eastertide #11:

I’m going fishing!

(John 21:3)

Peter decides it’s time to get back into the fishing business. “I’m going fishing,” Peter says to his fellow disciples. They had seen their Crucified Lord risen. But, what now? Fellow fisherman like James and John join him; along with Thomas and Nathanael and two unnamed disciples—they need work too.

The high drama of following Jesus has ended. It’s time to get back to work, put some food on the table and take care of their families. It is not easy to earn a living. Things don’t go well: “They went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing.” As the sun begins to rise, someone calls out to them from shore: "Have you any fish?" Not a single one. "Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some." They give it a try, and they get such a catch that they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. John says to Peter, “It is the Lord!”

Peter puts his clothes on, jumps into the water and swims to shore. Seems to me you should take your clothes off to swim; but, Peter doesn’t want to greet Jesus without his clothes on. While Peter swims about a football field length towards shore; the others are left with the difficult task of hauling in the uncanny, heavy load of fish.

When they all arrive on shore with their “one-hundred and fifty three large fish;” Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” As they linger, Jesus calls them to a new vocation: “Tend my sheep and feed my lambs.” It was then that the disciples became Apostles. There’s no going back, only forward. That’s how we get in on it.

Eastertide #10:

A week later…

(John 20:26)

Our resurrected Lord lingers between Easter Morning and Ascension Thursday—forty days. I don’t think it was the kind of lingering that had Jesus wandering about, as if you might catch him on video. The resurrection appearances come from God’s side.

A week later, God decides it’s time for another appearance. It’s a gift to Thomas who missed out when Jesus appeared to the disciples. Thomas was out getting groceries or something. Jesus appears because Thomas remains unconvinced—“unbelieving.” Jesus knows how Thomas is. He likes Thomas. It is Thomas who dares to question Jesus at the Supper when Jesus said, “You know the way.” And Thomas said, “Lord, we do not know… how we can know the way?” Jesus never dismisses Thomas’ questions. He answers Thomas, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.” We wouldn’t know if Thomas hadn’t asked.

For Thomas’ sake, Jesus appears: “Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ Then Jesus 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’” (Jn 20:27). Thomas ends up making the greatest of all confessions: “My Lord and my God!" That’s why we worship Jesus on Sunday Morning. He is God.

Our resurrected Lord ends his time with Thomas with a surprise blessing: “Do you believe Thomas because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe” (vs 29). That’s us.

Eastertide #9:

In their joy they were disbelieving.

 (Luke 24:41)

After the road and after the table when they recognized that it was actually Jesus. Cleopas and his wife couldn’t sleep. So, they headed back to Jerusalem to look up the disciples and to tell them “what happened on the road, and how Jesus made himself known to them in the breaking of the bread” (Lk 24:35).

Sure enough, they found the disciples huddled together, trying to make sense out of things. It was then “while they were talking about this, that Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you.’ They were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost. He said to them, ‘Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.’ And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet. While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering, he said to them, ‘Have you anything here to eat?’” (Lk 24:36-41)

Eating with our resurrected Lord seems to settled things. That’s how Peter explained it to Cornelius, that Roman military officer: “God raised him on the third day and allowed him to appear… to us who were chosen by God as witnesses, and who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead” (Ac 10:40-41). Maybe that’s why the Great Supper awaits us in Glory (Rv 19:9). Maybe we just find ourselves sitting at that eternal table, eating and drinking, and then we begin to notice, “That must be Jesus.”

Eastertide #8:  Sunday 2 of 7.

Then they recognized Him.

(Luke 24:31)

It takes a while to “recognize Him”. He doesn’t force himself on you like a Houdini act: “Walla!”  Christ gives us space—space to wonder, to sort things out, and to trust it really is Him.

That’s how the journey home to Emmaus ended; but, along the way our resurrected Lord didn’t let on. He pretends like he didn’t know about the events of Passover that shattered hope: “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem,” ask Cleopas of Jesus, “who does not know the things that have taken place in these days?” To which our resurrected Lord replied, “What things?” So, the Emmaus couple continued telling Jesus about Jesus and about how he was crucified and how they “had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.”

They went on to tell how some of the women “went to the tomb and did not find his body there” and about “a vision of angels.” Jesus listened to their story about himself; and then, while still on the road—still incognito, Jesus leads a bible study that stirred their hearts: “Did not our hearts burn within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?”  From scripture, Jesus taught them “how it was necessary for the Messiah to suffer”—for their parochial hopes to be shattered.

When they took a turn for home, our resurrected Lord pretended to walk on. But they couldn’t let him go, saying, “Stay with us… so he went in to stay with them.” That’s when it happened: “When he was at table with them… their eyes were opened and they recognized Him.”

Eastertide #7:

We had hoped…

(Cleopas, Luke 24:21)

Easter changes our hope. That’s what happened to the couple making their way from their Passover pilgrimage back home to their little village of Emmaus—some ten miles west of Jerusalem. As a child, I recall a picture, called the Emmaus Road, hanging somewhere—maybe around the entrance of our home. As I think back on that picture, I think the artist got it wrong. For one thing, I don’t think the couple were two men; rather, most probably Cleopas and the other his unnamed wife. Wives tend to go unnamed. What was Peter’s wife’s name?

The Patriarchs are the exception: You can’t think of Abraham without Sarah, or Isaac without Rebecca, or Jacob without Rachel; or, Moses without… what was her name? Zipporah, sounds exotic. Of course, we have some famous married couples in the New Testament as well, let’s see… can we think of Zechariah without Elizabeth? Or, Mary without Joseph? Or, Priscilla without Aquila? Of course, we know of Joseph because of Mary; and, we know Aquila because of his renowned wife Priscilla. I’ve drifted off…

Oh yes, that picture on the road to Emmaus. It has it all wrong. They were not two men but most probably a married couple returning from the Passover Celebration. There is something else about the picture that’s wrong. Jesus is pictured luminous, all in white, a celestial figure more like an angel. There can be no mistaking, in the picture, which one is Jesus. But that’s not how the story goes. Jesus blends in with the couple as a fellow traveler curious about what they think about that Passover. They tell him how their hope had been shattered: “We had hoped…” At least that’s how the journey begins.

Eastertide #6:

Many convincing proofs that he was alive.

(Acts 1:3)

Jesus’ tomb was found empty. No one ever questioned that fact. What is questioned, as Matthew says, “to this day,” is how it is that the tomb is empty. Some say it is empty because someone stole his body. Yet others say, Jesus’ tomb is empty because “he has risen.” If the first is true, then “our faith is useless” (1Cor 15:14-16). But if the tomb is empty because “he has risen” then all things have become new—then Easter really is Easter.

We have reasons to believe that Easter really is Easter. One of those reasons is that good folks, like Mary Magdalene, bear witness that it is so. One of my favorite preachers, Priscilla Shirer, says it best:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qw9phftl6Kk

Eastertide #5:

God gives us the victory…now concerning the collection.

(First Corinthians 15:57 & 16:1)

Chapter fifteen of First Corinthians gives us the Bible’s most profound theological understanding of Easter and the resurrection of the dead. What’s interesting is that the very next word is “Now concerning the collection.” Charity marked the church from its birth: “They would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all in need” (Ac 2:45). Too much charity, we might argue. Deacons are set aside to help care for the widows and orphans (Ac 6). To this day the benevolent fund of our church is distributed by the deacons.

I don’t claim for myself the gifts of mercy and generosity (Ro 12:8). My interested this morning lies in how such benevolence marks the church. Without it, the church would not be the church (Ja 1:27). This is revolutionary. As much as we might admire noble pagans like the Roman military officer Cornelius (Ac 10); the pagans were not known for their benevolence. They tended to be, like the Stoics, fatalist. There was for them, no point in trying to care for the needy. Christian faith, from the beginning, floods the world with charity: care of widows and orphans, hospitals, schools, shelters, relief organizations, soup kitchens, medical missions, charitable societies like Franklin Graham’s Samaritan Purse setting up field hospitals in Central Park for New York’s Corvid 19 victims. Easter (1Cor 15) changed everything (1Cor 16).

Eastertide #4:

On the first day of the week… collect an offering… for the poor.

(First Corinthians 16:1-4 & Second Corinthians 9:9)

From the beginning, Sunday morning worship had to do with an offering: “Now concerning the offering… On the first day of every week, each one of you should set aside a sum of money in keeping with your income” (1Cor 16:1-4). Our church, like many, doesn’t take an offering—it’s all digital. Good thing during this time of virtual church. Yet, I miss the old seen collection—when the collection was part of our liturgy: “Would the ushers please come forward.”

That’s another thing that changed after Easter Morning: the offering. Before Easter, bringing an offering had to do with a sacrifice to God; or, for the pagans, “gods”. It was a way to placate the gods and to seek their favor. But now, on this side of Calvary, such offerings are no longer necessary. The sacrificial offering has been given once and for all (Hb 10). Whatever it is that needs to be done between us and God has been done. There’s no need to appease God. That means that the offering is now free to care for those in need. Charity takes the place of appeasement. Charity, as an act of worship, is new. It's an Easter thing.

Eastertide #3:

On the first day of every week…

(First Corinthians 16:2)

There was something clandestine, even subversive, about gathering early Sunday morning to sing praises and to hear again the story of our redemption, and offer prayers to King Jesus. Rome didn’t like it. It took some time, 300 years or so, but eventually Rome ended up declaring Sunday an official legal holiday claiming that the day to honor the sun had now become the day to honor the “Light of the World.” You can’t help but admire those pre-official Sunday believers who dared to gather unofficially early before their day’s work to worship our risen Lord.

Eastertide #2:

For forty days Jesus presented himself alive.

(Acts 1:3)

The Christian Calendar gives us fifty days to ponder what happened. You can’t just celebrate Easter Sunday and move on to the next thing. Whatever is next has to do with Easter and whatever was before finds its destiny in Easter. That The Crucified rose again from the dead changes everything. What happened? What does it mean? We’ll need all fifty days, from Easter to Pentecost, just to ponder. Plus, a lifetime; plus, Eternity to contemplate “That Thou my God shouldst die for me” (hymn, “And Can it Be” by Charles Wesley 1738).

For starters, it changes our week. Sunday will never be the same. The last day of the week—Sabbath Day, is a day of rest to honor the old creation “longing to be set free”; the first day of week—Sunday, now becomes the day we celebrate the beginning of the new creation “set free from bondage and decay” (Ro 8:18-25). Every Sunday becomes a little Easter when the church gathers to sing its praises and to hear again the Gospel of our salvation. The first day of the week  has now become “The Lord’s Day” (Rv 1:10).

Easter Sunday:

The stone had been rolled away.

(Mark 16:4)

“As it began to dawn toward the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to look at the grave” (Mt 28:1). That’s how it all began. They were joined by some of the other women who had helped place Jesus’ dead body in the tomb. They wanted to return as early as possible, bringing some spices to freshen things up and to honor the dead—like we do when we bring flowers to the grave of a loved one.

“Who will roll away the stone for us” they wondered. I suppose they hadn’t thought it through. They just went. When they arrived, they saw that “the stone had been rolled away” (Mk 16:4). It had to do with an earthquake. Creation itself has been astir since Golgotha when a strange darkness descended and the earth shook splitting rocks and opening tombs. And now, sometime during the dark of night, an earthquake opens The Tomb. Creation itself seems to know.

The women enter with their spices only to find the tomb empty: “Someone has taken him out of the tomb,” they tell Peter and John, “and, we do not know where they have laid him” (Jn 20:2). Peter and John ran to check it out and discovered it was true—the tomb is empty.

Through fear and trembling, doubts and questions, wonder and astonishment; the women along with the disciples eventually sort it out. The tomb is empty because “He has risen from the dead” (Mt: 28:6). That changes everything.

Lent #37: The Great Sabbath.

On the Sabbath they rested.

(Luke 23:56)

That’s all that’s said of this Saturday between Jesus’ death and resurrection: “They rested.” Friday ends with Joseph of Arimathea, a “rich and prominent” man; securing the dead body of Jesus. With the help of Nicodemus and the women who remained faithful to the end, they lug the dead body of Jesus down from the cross, cover his shame with linen cloth, and provide a noble burial in a freshly hewn tomb with a stone entrance and all. After that, “they rest.” That’s the Great Sabbath Rest, when creation itself rest awaiting God’s decision. Nothing more from the human side can be done.  

It’s the day Jesus lies “dead and buried” (1Cor 15:3-4). Scripture, along with the creeds, stress the “buried” part: “Was crucified, died, and was buried; he descended to the dead (hades)” (Apostle’s Creed). It is real death and real burial. Jesus didn’t pretend. He participated fully in the terror of death and all its deadness. As the church fathers insisted, whatever part of humanity the Son of God has not assumed, has not been healed, or saved, or salvaged. Incarnation involves the whole of humanity, even the deadness of death; that humanity might be healed/saved/salvaged from death itself.

Easter morning will decide. For now, we rest and wait for God to do what only God can do.

Lent #36: Good Friday.

There they crucified Him.

(John 19:18)

“Fix your eyes on Jesus …who endured the cross with its shame” (Hb 12:2).  After this day, we can never ponder Christ apart from “the cross with its shame.” The cross, as depicted in the film “The Passion”, was indeed the cruelest instrument of execution the world has ever devised. There is the brutal torture of it; but, on top of that, as the book of Hebrews points out, there is the shame of it. Crucifixion was a public event with the victim hanging up there naked, bludgeoned and helpless for all to see. It’s the cruel instrument of pax romana—Roman Peace.

The greatest mystery in all history is how this same cross has become the symbol of a completely different peace: “My peace I give you, not as the world gives” (Jn 14:27). It is a peace that does not come from the powers of the executioners; but, by surprise, from The Victim—the One Crucified. This is “the gospel of peace--the peace of God, which transcends all understanding” (Eph 6:5 & Phil 4:7). Or, again and again, as the Apostle says elsewhere, “God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself.” It is a God event. On the cross God is having dealings with us and with the whole of creation.

That’s what turns this violent, shame filled and tragic Friday, into Good Friday. So good, that the cross has been changed into something one might wear around their neck; or, placed high for all to see where people gather to worship. It’s on this cross, at this place and at this Hour, that Christ became “the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world” (1Jn 2:2). Easter morning makes it so.

Lent #35: Maundy Thursday.

Jesus knew that the hour had come.

(John 13:1)

There had been other Passover Meals. Even as a boy, the holy family made pilgrimages to Jerusalem for the great festival (Lk 2:41-52). So too, as an adult (Jn 6). But this Passover Supper will be different. It will be his last because his Hour has come.

At table, Jesus prepares his disciples for this Hour and for how they are to follow him even when he can no longer be seen going before them. The table conversation begins with a new commandment: “I give you a new commandment (maundy), that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another” (Jn 13:34-34).

The church celebrates this Last Supper on Thursday of Lent called Maundy Thursday (maundy-Latin for commandment from which Thursday gets its title). It’s a sparse celebration. Unplugged, acapella, no decorations, even the preacher refrains from preaching; just the Table, the New Commandment, and the promise of the unseen Helper who will help us follow Jesus even when he can no longer be seen going before us. Beginning on Maundy Thursday, Christ’s Hour unfolds into Good Friday and Easter Morning. The Hour isn’t quite the Hour without Maundy Thursday.

Our children claim Maundy Thursday is their favorite service. This evening we Zoom. I’ll ask them why. Maybe it’s because the preacher doesn’t preach.

Lent #34:  Wednesday in Holy Week.

One of the Twelve went to betray Jesus.

(Mark 14:10)

While Jesus was once again teaching in the porticos of the temple courts, Judas Iscariot slipped away to the chief priest and said, “What will you give me if I betray him to you?" They settled for thirty pieces of silver (Mt 26:14-16).

Some think “Iscariot” is a form of “sikarios” meaning “assassin” speaking of those who sought a violent and clandestine revolt against Roman oppression, Jesus disappointed him. He was hoping Jesus would be more like his namesake Judas Maccabee who fought and gained independence from Greek oppression. Who knows? Maybe he just wanted to make some money. Whatever the case, Matthew tells us this (27:3-11):

When Judas, his betrayer, saw that Jesus was condemned, he repented and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders. He said, "I have sinned by betraying innocent blood." But they said, "What is that to us? See to it yourself." Throwing down the pieces of silver in the temple, he departed; and he went and hanged himself.

 Will we see Judas in Glory?

Lent #33:  Tuesday in Holy Week.

Not one stone will be left upon another.

(Matthew 24:2)

After a full day of teaching in the magnificent porticoes of the temple courts, Jesus and his disciples make their way back home to Simon’s house just a bit east on the other side of the Mount of Olives. As they pass over the Mount of Olives they can’t help but look west and marvel at the “wonderful stones” of Herod’s temple. Jesus is not impressed. He tells his disciples that the temple will be destroyed stone by stone.

Solomon’s Temple stood for near 400 years till the Babylonians breached the walls, destroyed the temple, and took the Israelites captive into Babylon. Seventy years after their captivity, the Persians conquered Babylon and set the captives free to return to Jerusalem and to rebuild their temple.  This second temple—the temple of the exiles, turned out to be a sorry sight as the prophet Haggai observed: “Who is left among you that saw this house in its former glory? How does it look to you now? Is it not in your sight as nothing?” (Hag 2:3) Those who remembered Solomon’s temple’s “wept” when they saw the meagerness of the second temple (Ezr 3:12). Yet, Haggai went on to prophecy of a future splendor that will be far greater than Solomon’s temple (Hag 2:9).

King Herod thought that he could fulfill Haggai’s prophecy by rebuilding the shabby second temple into something even greater than Solomon’s temple. It was these stones—Herod’s stones, that Jesus was talking about. Is Herod’s temple really the “Splendor” of Haggai’s prophesy? Is it really the place where God has dealings with his people? Is it really the place where heaven and earth meet?

From the beginning of Jesus’ earthly ministry among us, he spoke of the destruction of the temple and how a new temple would rise up in three days (Jn 2:22). Mount Zion would become Mount Calvary: “Come to him, a living stone …and like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house …through Jesus Christ. …See, I am laying in Zion a stone, a cornerstone chosen and precious; and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame" (1Pt 2:4-7).

Lent #32:  Monday in Holy Week.

There were some Greeks.

(John 12:20)

At the Passover Festival, when the Jews made pilgrimage to Jerusalem and its Temple to celebrate their deliverance from Egyptian bondage, there were also some Greeks. Lookers on, I suppose, wondering what this could mean. They had seen and heard enough of Jesus to want more. So they connect with one of Jesus’ disciples with a good Greek name: Philip. Philip gathered up his buddy Andrew (another Greek name) and the two of them sought from Jesus an audience for “some Greeks.”

No audience is granted, apparently; but, Jesus does give Philip and Andrew a message for the Greeks: “The hour has come,” Jesus tells them, “for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (Jn 12:23-24).

Jesus’ mini-parable about the grain of wheat that dies to bear fruit, would resonate with the Greeks—particularly their poets (Ac 17:28). In myth and song, the Greeks told the story Persephone. It’s a myth (complicated like Greek myths are) about how death comes to the crops in winter and how spring brings them back to life. We’ve been watching our young new tree out front. Linda is fearful it might not come back to life. We spotted possible makings of some new leafs yesterday. There’s hope.

Maybe Jesus is saying something like, “Tell them that their myth has to do with me.” My guess is that all such myths and longings has to do with Holy Week and who Jesus is.

Lent #31:  Palm Sunday

Who is this?

(Matthew 21:10)

That’s what folks asked as Jesus entered Jerusalem riding on a young donkey: “Who is this?” The crowd, waving their Palm Branches, sing out their praises: “Hosanna, blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.” Yet, even while they sing their praises, they wonder: “Who is this?”

Though the crowd wonders about who Jesus is; Jesus accepts their praises. That’s true of all our praises. Who can know the whole of Him? We offer up our loud hosannas still wondering, “Who is this?” Who could have foreseen that by the end of the week, we will know Him as the One Crucified? “Who is this?”

Lent #30: Day before Holy Week

Leave her alone.

(Jesus, John 12:7)

It happened “six days before Passover” at “the home of Simon the leper” where Jesus and his disciples stayed just outside of Jerusalem. You may know him as Lazarus’ dad. Maybe they still called him “the leper” because Jesus healed him and made him whole. Simon’s home was always open to Jesus. His son Lazarus and Jesus became friends (phileō, Jn 11:3,36). One senses that Jesus felt at home with Lazarus and his sisters Mary and Martha.

There must have been something about the human love of Simon and his family that freed Mary to take “about a pint of expensive ointment and pour it on Jesus' feet and then wipe his feet with her hair. The whole house filled with the fragrance” (Jn 12:3). Such human warmth offended Judas. He made a big fuss insisting that Mary should have sold the expensive ointment and given the money to the poor. Judas has a point. It’s hard to argue with that. But, Jesus comes to Mary’s defense: “Leave her alone. She bought it for the day of my burial” (Jn 12:7). Somewhere, way down deep, Mary knows what Holy Week means. She alone anoints Jesus for what lies ahead. So, “Leave her alone,” Jesus says, “for she has done a beautiful thing” (Mk 14:6). Let her be. She knows.

Lent #29:  Seven Lenten Disciplines.

Do not let your left hand know

what your right hand is doing.

(Sermon on the Mount, Matthew 6:3)

Before we leave our seven Lenten Disciplines:

1)      self-examination

2)      repentance

3)      prayer

4)      fasting

5)      almsgiving

6)      meditating on scripture, and

7)      marking our mortality;

let’s listen again to Jesus’ warning about how we go about such disciplines. It’s assumed that we do pious disciplines like almsgiving, prayer and fasting; we’re just to do it different—the Jesus way. Maybe the Jesus way is best summed up by his mini parable about how your left hand should not be aware of what your right hand is doing. When your left hand knows what your right hand is doing, it ruins everything.

I’m tempted to explain it; or, try to explain it; or, in some way make perfectly good sense of it. But this left hand/right hand parable, like most parables, is best left as is. If the explanation were better than the parable, Jesus wouldn’t have bothered teaching us in parables. The parable says a Jesus thing that can’t quite be said any other way. Whatever is said falls short. So, let’s just allow Jesus’ left hand/right hand parable to nestle somewhere deep down inside us where “soul and spirit, joints and marrow meet” (Hb 4:12). It’s the place where Jesus’ parables percolate.

Lent #28: Discipline 7 of 7—Marking our Mortality.

Our mortal nature

(First Corinthians 15:53)

“Marking our Mortality”: that’s our last Lenten Discipline, at least according to the Book of Common Prayer. This one is too easy. Just getting out of bed “marks my mortality.” But, it was not always so. The “mark of mortality” sneaks up on us when we find ourselves “bent over”, when, as the wisest of mortals observes: “The

      -grinders cease because they are few, and

      -those that look through the windows are dimmed…

      -When one rises up at the voice of a bird, and…

      -the grasshopper drags itself along and

      -desire fails; …and

        -the pitcher is broken at the fountain” (Ecc 12).

Like a “broken pitcher,” vitality begins to leaks out of us.

I suppose marking our mortality is a Lenten Discipline because of Good Friday when Christ took on our mortality; and, Easter Morning when God turned mortality on its head so that “our mortal bodies might be clothed with Christ’s immortality” (1Cor 15:53). Immortality is not something we have of ourselves. It comes from God’s decision about us in Jesus Christ. Even throughout Eternity, our immortality comes to us as a gift from the Immortal One.

Lent #27: Discipline 6 of 7—reading and meditating on scripture.

Sin is lurking at the door.

(Genesis 4:7)

I don’t suppose that’s the most inspiring verse in the Bible—one worth Lenten meditation. Linda and I found ourselves there, in Genesis four, because of our reading aloud to one another Steinbeck’s East of Eden. The deeper we get into the book, the more we realize it really does have to do with how Cain found himself east of Eden. Great writers, like Steinbeck or Melville, seem to care about such Bible stories more than we who make big claims about the Bible.

Anyway, it caused us to read aloud to one another the story from the fourth chapter of Genesis that shapes Steinbeck’s novel. Of all people, I should know the story. I got paid to understand, explain, and make sense of such things. But, as we reread the story to one another, I marveled: What a strange, strange story—well worth a good Lenten meditation.