4th week of Eastertide: therapeutic

The lame were healed (therapeuō);

   and there was great joy. (Acts 8:7-8)

Warren, twenty years my younger, became lame, among other things, when driving his newly purchased motorcycle home from Orland, a no-name town I know from my many trips to Redding along I-5. With his wife following behind, they decided to pull off the freeway and make their way home via the Delta—the kind of thing motorcycles are made for. After crossing the Rio Vista Bridge, Warren turned right onto highway 160 and crashed head-on at 55mph with an oncoming SUV. His wife follows and sees him lying in the middle of the highway. His bike is no more; but, Warren is somehow alive.

The last he remembers is turning right on 160. The crash put him in NorthBay Medical Center in Fairfield for four weeks suffering from Traumatic Brain Injury, then moved to Pleasanton Nursing and Rehabilitation Center for another four weeks; and finally, three more weeks of physical therapy at John Muir Acute Rehabilitation in Walnut Creek. Then home, eleven weeks after the accident, where his wife and family try to figure out what to do now. Last week, I dropped by to see him and hear his story.

He spoke first of a miracle… how on the eighth week, God reached down and touched his head freeing his brain to make sense of things. For the first time since the accident he could carry on thoughtful conversation. He was back. But what kind of “back” would it be? He was still lame.

This is where Warren’s story and my story converged. His story begins at the height of his powers while motorcycling about God’s beautiful green earth. My story begins when I got out of bed one morning and couldn’t walk even a single step. Through all sorts of medical test, it was discovered that it had to do with degenerative spinal disease requiring back surgery. We both found ourselves lame: Warren by a motorcycle crash; and I, by a crash with mortality.

We shared hospital stories; and, how during covid we could not see our families and loved ones. And, how we couldn’t wait to get out of there and back home. Yet, it was these same hospitals that sustained us and helped us get well. For Warren, nothing could put his brain right but the hand of God. But, even then, it took something called “therapy” before we could walk again.

“Therapeutic” is a N.T. word, as in “Jesus healed (therapeuō) the suffering” (Mt 4:24). It speaks of a hands-on kind of healing: “Jesus laid his hands on the sick and they were healed (therapeuō).”  It wasn’t exactly Jesus who laid his hands on us, but all sorts of medical people along with those physical and vocational therapist who got us walking again and putting our socks on all by ourselves. Today, you would notice that our gate is a bit off; something like Jacob of old who “limped along as he went” (Gn 32:31). But we walk, nonetheless.

“Thankful,” Warren said, “is not the right word.” He went on, “‘Grateful’ is better. It has the sense of grace in it.” We read a Psalm—Ps 46. We prayed. That was Friday. Sunday, we went to church.

3rd week of Eastertide: Psalm 49

Mortals cannot abide in their pomp;

    they are like the animals that perish. (Psalm 49:12)

Mortals cannot abide in their pomp;

    they are like the animals that perish. (Psalm 49:20)

This morning Heath read Psalm 49 to me. I know it better than most Psalms, because I teach it in Wisdom Literature. But, to hear it from another—another taken by the wonder of it; is to hear it fresh, on its own terms. That is the thing about the Word of God, the more you hear it the more mysterious and wondrous it becomes to you. And, to hear it, requires another—another voice reading it in your hearing.

Psalm 49 is a wisdom Psalm. It makes big claims, as wisdom tends to do: “Hear this, all you peoples; give ear, all inhabitants of the world, both low and high, rich and poor together. My mouth shall speak wisdom; the meditation of my heart shall be understanding. I will incline my ear to a proverb; I will solve my riddle to the music of the harp” (49:1-4). Wisdom put to a tune: “the music of the harp.” The twice repeated refrain: “Mortals cannot abide in their pomp; they are like the animals that perish” (vss 12&20-middle and end), sums up the riddle of life. That’s how wisdom works. It describes life as it is—our life is, as the wisest of mortals puts it, “fleeting”.  But, how is it that such wisdom makes its way into the Psalter—the hymnal?

The first refrain comes after wisdom’s acknowledgement that: “No ransom avails for one's life, there is no price one can give to God for it” (vs 7). But there’s a second stanza: “But God will ransom my soul from the power of Death, for he will receive me” (vs. 15). That turns the Psalm into an Easter Hymn sung by the congregation.

“But God… But God remembered Noah…” for example—good thing. The best “But God” of them all: “But God raised Jesus from the dead” (Ac 2:24). “But God…” is the Word beyond every human word. It is the Gospel. We get to the wonder of “But God…” by entering into wisdom’s observation that “mortals cannot abide in their pomp; they are like the animals that perish.” Now we speak our “Yes, but God…” Maybe better said, we sing our “But God…” in the midst of the congregation. Could there be Easter Faith without a song?

 

2nd week of Eastertide: Basketball

In a race runners run,

   to win the prize. (First Corinthians 9:24)

I won the Annual Leafblad NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament Invitational Trophy. It came down to the finals; if Gonzaga wins, I lose; if Baylor wins, I win. I picked Baylor because our granddaughter Priscila will be attending Baylor this fall. Baylor won; so, I handed my trophy over to our matriculating granddaughter.

Priscilla choose Baylor (they are fortunate to get her), because it’s a Christian university with high academic standards and they play good ball—what a combination! One could say the same for Gonzaga. It too is a Christian university with high academics and play good ball—at least good basketball.

Gonzaga’s motto is “Ad majorem Dei gloriam.” Mottos, especially academic mottos, carry such weight that they need to be written in Latin, like "E Pluribus Unum."  Baylor’s motto is “Pro Ecclesia, Pro Texana.” You can probably figure that one out: it has something to do with “Texas.” After the game, the Baylor coach, Scott Drew, after thanking all sorts of Baylor folks concluded by shouting out, “This win is for Waco, and for Texas.” He embodies the school motto which in English translates: “For Church, For Texas.” I’ve often wondered why the church does so well in Texas, now I know.

Gonzaga’s motto seems a bit weightier: “For the greater glory of God.” That’s hard to beat. Could it be that both teams, vying for basketball glory, brought about a “greater glory of God?” Or, am I being silly. Could it be that God has a way of getting himself glory even on a basketball court? I think so.

 

2nd Week of Eastertide: Golf

In much wisdom is much vexation,

    and those who increase knowledge increase sorrow.

     (Ecclesiastes 1:18)

I’ve been spending my fire-pit mornings reading Yalom’s The Schopenhauer Cure. I’m reading it at the recommendation of my ATF. What he recommends, I read. It is a good read mixing the early 19^th century German philosopher with a twenty-first century therapy group. Schopenhauer reads like Ecclesiastes, only without Ecclesiastes’ sprinkling of simple, joyous gifts “from the hand of God” (Ecc 2:24-25). 

In about an hour I’m heading up the road to play golf with some buddies. This will be my first golf in seven or so months—six months since my back surgery. It’s just nine holes at the fairgrounds—a simple pleasure “from the hand of God.” I’m leery of how many strokes I’ll pile up; but, certain that my buddies will be encouraging and happy to see me swinging away. I wonder if Schopenhauer ever knew such pleasures. Or, if he did, would he consider them too trivial. Maybe it is Easter that turns simple things into gifts “from the hand of God.”

 

Easter Morning: Jesus is on the loose.

 On the third day,

   God raised Him from the dead. (Act 10:41)

Early Sunday morning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary joined by Salome and Mary the mother of James, return to the tomb.  Friday’s burial had been rushed and the women want to finish their work—something aesthetical that women tend to see. Things are not quite right at Jesus’ grave and the women intend to tidy things up like we might do at the grave site of a loved one.

They wonder about that heavy stone; but, when they arrived, they see that “the stone had been rolled away” (Mt 16:4). The tomb is empty. Mary Magdalene ran to tell Peter and John: "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him."  Peter and John run to check it out for themselves. It is true, the tomb really is empty.

What happened? The official story that circulates, as Matthew says, “to this day” (Mt 28:15), that “His disciples came by night and stole him away while the guards were asleep.” The Gospel story is that “God raised him from the dead on the third day and caused him to be seen by witnesses whom God had chosen. They ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead” (Ac 10:40-41).  It turns out the Last Supper really wasn’t the last supper.

Jesus, resurrected from the grave, appears as he chooses: first to Mary Magdalene while she lingered at the tomb, and then at a dinner on the Emmaus road, and at a fish lunch with his disciples, and again at a breakfast on the shore of Galilee. With such appearances, filled with wonder and astonishment, the women along with the disciples sort it out. The tomb is empty because “He has risen from the dead” (Mt: 28:6). The Cross is vindicated—Friday turned to “Good.” Christ is alive and on the loose.

Holy Week: Saturday when Jesus lay dead.

 On the Sabbath,

   they rested. (Luke 23:56)

 In a nick of time, just before the sun sets marking the beginning of Sabbath; Joseph of Arimathea, Nicodemus, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of Joses, managed to take down the dead body of Jesus, wrap his body in linen cloth, and lay him in a noble tomb hewn out of the rock; and then, roll a large stone against the door of the tomb. Night falls. Sabbath begins, and "on the Sabbath they rested." That's all the Bible tells us about this day..."they rested." I’m guessing it was a restless rest, but it is Sabbath and nothing more can be done.

Jesus lay in the grave “dead and buried” (1Cor 15:3-4), as scripture and the creeds insist: “Christ suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, died, and was buried” (Apostles’ Creed). You can’t get any more dead than that. Jesus took upon himself the full terror of death, “even death on a cross!” (Phil 2:8)  He didn’t pretend. It’s not a Houdini act. It is the real thing, only more so. That is the meaning of Saturday: “dead and buried.”

This little band of surprise disciples, led by a courageous rich and prominent man, have stepped up to do the heavy lifting, clean up the body, and place it in a noble grave; now, they rest. It is Sabbath and there is nothing more humans can do, but to rest and wonder.

 

Holy Week: Friday evening when Jesus was buried.

When it was evening,

    there came a rich man. (Matthew 27:57)

That’s how Matthew describes him, “a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph.” Mark describes him as “a prominent member of the Council.” Luke adds “a good and righteous man.” John tells us that this rich and prominent and good man happened to be “a disciple of Jesus, though a secret one because of his fear of the Jews.” This secret disciple of Jesus does what only a rich and prominent man can do: “He gathers up the courage to go before Pilate and asks for the body of Jesus” (Mk10:43). He then provides a rich man’s tomb to lay the dead body of Jesus. 

Lugging the dead body of Jesus down from the cross and carrying it to a noble burial in a freshly hewn tomb with a stone entrance and getting it all done before sunset is no easy task. The disciples are nowhere to be found. Joseph will need help. Nicodemus, who had at first come to Jesus by night, came to help and along with the women they do the heavy lifting, cover his shame with linen cloths and lay the dead body of Jesus in a noble tomb.

Humans, even rich and prominent humans, have done what they could. Whatever else is to be done is now in God’s hands.