Why Easter Is a Sacrament

 It's only natural to think of Easter and the Resurrection as a miracle; after all Christ’s rising from the dead is extraordinary and outside the realm of human experience. Yet, calling Easter a miracle diminishes its importance and makes the event exclusively God’s purview and removes us from having anything to do with it. This was not God’s intent because God’s Divine incarnation in Jesus and Jesus’ death and resurrection were for our salvation and not for God's benefit. This point is reaffirmed in John's Gospel from  two weeks ago: "The voice did not come for my sake but for yours...And when I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to myself."  God did not need Jesus' death or resurrection.  

 

God performs miracles but man celebrate sacraments. While God works a miracles interdependent from man, man is essential to the presence of a sacrament. A sacrament requires our participation for its very existence. 

Easter is never more "sacramental" than when one man gives his life for another. Christians seek to make Easter sacramental in their lives by their memory of Jesus through their words and deeds.

John Calvin wrote that becoming Son of man with us, he made us sons of God with him; that by his descent to earth, he has prepared an ascent to heaven for us; that by taking on out mortality, he has conferred his immortality upon us; that accepting our weakness, he has strengthened us by his power; that receiving our poverty unto himself, he has transferred our wealth to us; that taking the weight of our iniquity upon himself (which oppressed us), he has clothed us with his righteousness. (Kruger, The Shack Revisited, p. 197) 

Jesus became incarnate to teach us how to live our lives and abide in Him through Jesus. Each time we celebrate the Eucharist and say “in him through him and with him,”  we are reminded of our participation in his birth, death and resurrection. (John 20:1-9) (Adapted from Dawn without Darkness, Anthony Padovano, p78)

The Power of Love Vs. The Love of Power

 

Every year the Roman army would come marching into Palestine during Passover. It was Pilate, the governor in the time of Jesus, who led the parade riding a white stallion, a symbol of Rome’s dominance. The parade was a reminder to the Jews not to cause trouble during Passover. As if to challenge Roman oppression, Jesus rode a donkey, a lowly beast of burden, in the opposite direction, entering through the gate from which Pilate exited. (Mark 11:1-10)

 Pilate needed a whole legion to demonstrate his importance and control; however, Jesus’ “power” was rooted in the love of God. It was the power of love vs. the love of power on parade. The gospel writers tell us that this event was not accidental. Jesus planned it ahead of time. He knew he was risking the wrath of Rome by provoking Pilate. 

Contrary to some long-held beliefs, Jesus was not ransomed for us, but rather, he took and continues to take our place for the trials of our human existence. 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 to “cease and desist.” Ironically, in the first century AD the cross was reviled as an image to be kept out of sight as it, on the surface, was a grim reminder of the despicable event on Good Friday. In time, however, the cross became the central symbol of our faith…a symbol that reminds us that the journey does not end with Jesus’ death but we, along with Jesus are resurrected to eternal life. The cross 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 we will be. God is in the midst of our human experience. 

 

Now, I understand what you tried to say to me
And how you suffered for your sanity
And how you tried to set them free
They would not listen, they did not know how
Perhaps they'll listen now.

 

 

 

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; our ego gives these animals permission to reside and most of us quietly feed. And between them, painfully pushing them out, as in childbirth, that Christ must be born, and laid in their own manger. (Evelyn Underhill, “The Light of the World,” Watch for the Light, 2008)

Christ is the essence of God’s love, and his birth is the birth of love in our souls. This birth in us is for a purpose beyond ourselves in that the love of God can only be manifest in the world through us.

How will we surrender to our new life? What changes will we make? How are we preparing during these dark, passively aggressive days of Lent. Change does not happen automatically. 

In a very real sense, if we are to experience the new life that God offers us, we must open ourselves to God’s will and 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. But change requires us to resist the ways we typically use to avoid difficult decisions 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 out of reach and even harsh. But in a very real sense it can be as simple as aligning ourselves with God’s peace 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.

To everything there is a season, turn, turn, turn

 

Does Practice make Perfect?

Considerable conflict existed among “Jewish Christians” when John wrote his gospel (John 3:14-21). Jewish followers of Christ had to deal with the pain of being ejected from their synagogues as well as ostracized by their families and friends. The very foundation and center of their lives were gone. In a time when family and community were virtually the sole basis for identity, we can understand how difficult it was to be a follower of Jesus.

Extreme rejection from family, friends and the community at large often results in a pattern of negative thinking and a mindset that characterizes everyone as being either for or against us. Although Jesus' teachings may have helped followers to cultivate a new sense of identity, they were still banished from the elements of society that was “home.” 

Fast forwarding to our day and time, March 4, 2024 it's apparent that this duality of either for or against, prevails in virtually every aspect of our lives: family, religion and politics. Look how polarized our world is: Palestine/Israel; Ukraine; Immigration; Biden/Trump; Democrat/Republican. Just pick an area of contention and  we're hard pressed  to find any reasonable common ground; it's always either or.

When Jesus professes Gods’ unconditional love for the whole world, not either or, He affirms Nicodemus whoa as a faithful Jew and a Pharisee, has accepted Christ’s teachings, . 

It reminds us about the kind of courage that love requires from us. In John’s Gospel, faith is more than stating a set of beliefs or worshiping in the "right place." Faith, like becoming a musical virtuoso, requires ongoing practice. Faith is enriched over time with steadfast practice and with each “performance,” always moving toward perfection... but never quite attaining it.

I speak from experience when I say playing a musical instrument well is not like riding a bike; you just don’t sit down and play well because you once did before. Being committed and faithful leads to constant growth and development. We continually advance because we continue to practice out of love with no expectation or reward. It’s living in the moment and in the journey and not for an arbitrary outcome that may never be attained because perfection is not in ours. Success is the progressive realization of a worthy goal; we are enriched along the way. Likewise. when we live our faith, we become our faith.

Addendum:
The last time we read Nicodemus in 2018 I wrote in the following in the Blog:

 I’ve been practicing my religion almost as long as I’ve practiced the piano. My piano is coming back slowly but not without effort. As for my faith, I’m still continually learning what it means to love God along the way. I’m still learning how to be open to 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 that I never stop practicing Piano.

Well life has a way of intervening but today, six years later, the piano sits idle. However, I’m still learning and am grateful for the ability to reflect on the then and now in these pages. It’s not like riding a bike, is it? 

 And the river bank talks of the waters of March; It's the promise of life, it's the joy in your heart;

And the river bank talks of the waters of March;It's the end of all strain, it's the joy in your heart