Why Easter matters

 

 

Shouldn’t Easter be “elevated” to a sacramental event rather than a miracle if modern man is to be a part of it? (John 20:1-9)The proclamation of a miracle excuses us from having anything further to do with it.  A miracle is God’s doing. We are on the sidelines. A sacrament, however, makes a demand upon us for its existence.  God performs miracles but men celebrate sacraments with him.  God may work a miracle apart from men.  Man, however, is essential to the presence of a sacrament. 

If Easter is to be a sacramental event, we must symbolize it for our fellow men, not only in the grace of God, but with our flesh and blood.  Easter is sacramental every time one of us makes his life a source of light for his fellow man.  Easter is sacramental when our words heal, when our hearts understand, when lesser values die in us for the sake of greater realities.

We are sacramental with Easter when men know us to be faithful.  We are sacramental with Easter when our fellow men see us suffer not for selfish advantage but for their redemption.  Easter is never more sacramental than when one man gives his life on behalf of another.

Christians seek to make Easter sacramental in their lives by their memory of Jesus.  If Jesus is remembered, he has not died altogether.  If the memory of Jesus inspires us to sacrificial love, Jesus is grace.  Jesus is an Easter-maker. God became incarnate as the word became flesh in us and was shared among us to not only teach us how to live our lives but to learn how to reside in Him through Jesus. And so when the celebrant proclaims "in him through him and with him," we are reminded of how we are participants in his birth, death and resurrection. If it was "just" another miracle it would not matter as much as it does. (Adapted from Dawn Without Darkness, Anthony Padovano, Paulist Press 1970)

 

 

 

 

...But why a Donkey?

 


Palm Sunday is festive “holiday” filled with irony. We enjoy the parade and the children entering waving their palms. We watch and participate but then we seem to quickly rush from this parade to Easter Sunday. Perhaps we should take a closer look at this parade and its inevitable outcome - the cross. We ask, why the cross? In many ways understanding the story of Palm Sunday gives us a glimpse into the nature of God. (Mark)

Every year the Roman army would come marching into Palestine during Passover. It was Pilate in the time of Jesus, who riding a white stallion, led the parade as a symbol of Rome’s dominance and oppression. It was a reminder to “nobodies” not to cause trouble during the Passover. So what does Jesus do? In a seemingly mocking parody, he rides a donkey, a lowly beast of burden in the opposite direction and enters through the gate from which Pilate exited. While Pilate needed a whole legion to demonstrate his importance and control, Jesus’ “power” was rooted in relationships and the everlasting love of God and in God’s desires for the good of the world and all its creatures.

The gospel writers tell us that this event was not accidental. Jesus planned it ahead of time. He knew what he was doing and he knew he was risking the wrath of Rome by provoking the authorities. And eventually they caught up with him. God did not plan Jesus’ death. God did not desire it. God did not need it for God’s salvation of the world and all its creatures to work out. So then, why the cross?  The Cross was used by the Romans to not only destroy the identity of the one who was crucified, but to erase his mission and send a warning to any of his followers. Ironically reviled as an image, the cross became and endured as a central symbol for our faith…a symbol of a nobody who is resurrected. No one would expect a nobody to be resurrected. 

Contrary to some beliefs, Jesus was not ransomed for us, but rather, he takes our place, not for our sins, but for the trials of our human journey. We know and have known people like Gandhi, Martin Luther King and Rosa Parks, who at the very least put themselves at risk for the sake of others. This exchange is God standing with us as we face our reality and its dangers. God is in the midst of our human experience. 

The cross reminds us that our world is still a “risky” place, and that much will be asked of us. Yet it reminds us that death has no power over us because we live in the light of the resurrection of a nobody who was raised up as will we. The cross reminds us to stand up for those who need to be rescued and to stand with those who work for the common good even when it seems to be hopeless or dangerous. We can live in a time of trouble with joy. Jesus challenged the love of power and lived for the power of love. Jesus was offering a different vision of how things could be, Palm Sunday asks us: which vision of power will rule our lives? To which kingdom will we belong? Which parade will we join? (Adapted from Parades and Crosses, Holy Textures, George Hermanson)

Everything Must Change; Nothing Stays the Same

 

Let’s face it change can be unsettling; it requires our leaving our comfort zone and adjusting to a new way of doing things. Change can be as subtle as using a new pen, sitting in a different chair at dinner, or as profound as losing a job or a loved one. Some changes are optional; others are forced on us. In all instances change is associated with anything from temporary discomfort to long-standing emotional pain. 

Our Gospel lesson (John 12:20-33) suggests that the incarnation of God changed everything through Jesus: through his birth, his life, his teachings, and especially through his dying and rising to new life. It’s a message of hope that God is working in this world to make everything new through Jesus. Yet we know the birth of new life is not without pain. Childbirth is more than a metaphor for life; it is life itself, but it’s preceded by dark days of preparation, ultimately yielding to pain and eventually new life.

Meister Eckhart writes that human nature is like a stable inhabited by the ox of passion and the ass of prejudice; animals which take up a lot of room and which I suppose most of us are quietly feeding. And it is there between them, pushing them out, that Christ must be born and in their very manger must be laid. (Evelyn Underhill, “The Light of the World,” Watch for the Light, 2008)

Christ is the essence of God’s love and his birth, the birth of love in our souls, is for a purpose beyond ourselves: it’s manifestation in the world must be through us.
How will we surrender to our new life? What changes will we make? How are we preparing during these dark, passive aggressive days of Lent. Change does not happen automatically. 

In a very real sense, to experience the new life that God offers us, we must open ourselves to God’s will ahd allow ourselves to be vulnerable. Sure, we’d much rather avoid any kind of difficulty or discomfort and just stay in the same old rut we’ve been in all our lives. But change requires us to resist the ways we typically use to avoid difficulty and discomfort. Following the will of God requires persistence and in some cases may result in personal upheaval. It’s not easy to resist the tendency to avoid discomfort that ultimately heals and transforms us into a new life.

That sounds difficult and perhaps even harsh. But in a very real sense, it can be as simple as aligning ourselves with God’s peace, justice, freedom and compassion by reaching out to others in need. When we make changes in our lives, we’re not just engaged in a self-help project! We’re opening ourselves to the change that God has already made through Jesus, and that God continues to make in all our lives. Everything must change; nothing stays the same.

Practice Makes Perfect

Why do we refer to various occupations as a “practice?” A lawyer practices law; a physician practices medicine and a pharmacist practices the “art” of pharmacy. Why do you suppose we refine their practice as “art”… e.g., the “art” of medicine? William Osler, regarded as the “father of modern medicine” said that the practice of medicine is an art not a trade; a calling not a business; a calling in which your heart will be exercised equally with your head. Often the best part of your work will have nothing to do with potions and powders but with the exercise of an influence of the strong upon the weak, of the righteous upon the wicked, or the wise upon the foolish.

Practice and art distinguishes the need for practitioners to continue a life-long learning process and that the need to hone respective skills are required to maintain even minimum proficiency. This need is most apparent in the field of medicine and most especially in its sub-specialties. Today’s fast moving stream of information that requires constant learning, occurs at warp speed, likely beyond anything Dr. Osler could have imagined. We as consumers require, if not demand it from our health care providers. 
But should this ongoing practice of honing one’s skills be relegated only to the professions? Shouldn’t ongoing learning and self-improvement be a life-long process, consistent with living an enriched, fruitful life in everyone? 

So what does this have to do with our Gospel reading (John 3:14-21)? What does this have to do with the repentance and faith Jesus calls us to embrace? I think there is a parallel. We are on a continual spiritual journey when it comes to loving God and loving others. I’m not sure that this comes about naturally. Speaking for myself, I know that learning to become a person who is aware of and open to God’s loving presence, and who much less, allows that love to flow through to others, is something that has required ongoing continued practice. Yet, ironically as opposed to other learned or acquired skills, the love of God has always been there like a burning bright light hidden beneath reams of ego. But my openness to its presence and willingness to let go are works in progress. The minute I think I feel all is right with my relationship with God, something gets in the way and turns my head. I guess I’m a slow learner. In reality we are engaged in something that requires constant attention and practice. 

Yet in this Gospel reading we can sense the potential for what appears to be a paradox or a tension between God’s unconditional love for those who get the “message” and those who don’t get it. Its interpretation can set the stage for exclusivity and earning salvation: Someone’s in; someone’s out. You win; you lose

I suppose it’s important to frame John’s words in the time frame, and for the purpose of and to whom they were written. At the time of his writing, the Jewish Christians were undergoing considerable pain. They were ostracized from their homes, congregations and cut off from their families and friends. When one experiences that kind of painful rejection, it’s easy to fall into an oppositional way of thinking. Are they for or against me?

But we should not let this frame or distort the truth in John’s words. It clearly affirms God’s unconditional love and suggests the response that love requires of us. In John, it’s not about the words… it’s about the doing. Our love, faith and convictions are not static but meant to be put into practice. Learning a musical instrument or a specific skill requires action beyond words and lip service. If we are truly committed, we are always learning and practicing our faith in real life.

As for me, I’m still learning. I’m still learning to get beyond my own selfishness so that I can truly love the people around me. I am still learning how to open myself so that the love of God can flow through me. I’m still learning to relate to the people around me with compassion, understanding and kindness… and I hope I never stop practicing.

 

 

 

 

The Power of Love vs. the Love of Power

Over the years as I have become more familiar with the Gospels and their authors, I find that I have developed a particular affinity for John's. John is less interested in the historical Jesus as are the synoptic writers and while he does insert accounts of Jesus' life, John frames it as a backdrop to his real interest, who Jesus really is. Yes, all of the other Gospel writers consider the account of Jesus' overturning the merchants' tables in the temples as an important event. However, I believe John's account (John 2:13-25) remains faithful to his theme, the Divine presence of God in Jesus.

John proclaims the Divine presence of God in Jesus in his very first Gospel with the words: In the beginning was the Word and the Word was God...And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us. And as he announces the end of the physical presence of the incarnation of God in Jesus...he passes the legacy on to us (John 17:1-14):

All mine are yours and yours are mine: and I have been glorified in them. And now I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me.

Here John relies on the mystical words to speak to us in that place in us in which the personal images of reality and life reside. Call it whatever you will: the mind, the brain, the heart, the soul; John invites us to close our eyes and picture what being in a relationship with God really means. Note, I use the word "picture," not "understand," in an effort to prompt our imagination and senses to feel the words as a palpable sensory experience, and know what being in a relationship with God actually feels like, tastes like and smells like. This is at the essence of our being and what we means when we say "and the Word became flesh and dwelt among us." God fully shared our humanity through Jesus as we, through Jesus fully share in God's divinity. Anything less than that relationship with God would be reduced to a mere acquaintance.

So now back to Jesus' anger with those who abuse the temple and by extension out churches. Over the centuries many explanations have been proposed  to explain Jesus' anger; you pick your favorite. How about Jesus' anger with the high priests, church councils, and vestries whose public piety have nothing to do with sharing of God's love  and whose adherence to rituals of worship are empty? Jesus was a radical whose focus was preaching the Love of God and not about the rules associated with misguiding the faithful in the name of God. Jesus sought to overturn the tables and rid the churches of all the piety, purity, and social rules created n the name of God for the sole purpose of control and power.

Yet church is vital to our lives because it provides a coming together where we can proclaim the Gospel and share the sacraments in which we perceive God's grace most clearly. But then we are sent out to look for God and partner with God in our various roles and venues.  Isn't that a great image for the Church? Jesus' anger is directed toward those who use the love of power to control their congregations rather than the power of love to create and environment that sets the stage for sharing of God's love. We tear down the walls and live the Word and the Word becomes flesh in us.