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Showing posts with label holy week. Show all posts
Showing posts with label holy week. Show all posts
April 20, 2011
Holy Wednesday
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April 19, 2011
Holy Tuesday Meditation
Here is my meditation for our Holy Tuesday Service of Evening Prayer. It starts in an hour, so if you'd like to hear this sermon instead of read it, c'mon out!
The Parable of the Wicked Tenants is a terrible story filled with greed, envy, violence, and death. The worst part of the story, however, is the stupidity of the land owner. He sends a slave to collect his share of the produce, but the tenant-farmers beat him and send him home empty handed. So, the landowner sends another slave. This one they didn't just beat up, but they hurled insults at him while they beat him up, and he too returned home empty handed. So, the landowner sends a third slave to pick up what is rightfully his, but this slave never comes home. The tenant-farmers don't just beat him up, they don't just dishonor him, but they kill this slave.
Most of us would have learned our lesson at this point. No more slaves, these people are too violent, too greedy, I'll just cut my loses and focus on my other properties. But that isn't the story that Jesus tells. Instead, Jesus says that the landowner kept sending slaves, over and over and over again. “And so it was with many others; some they beat, and others they killed.” Many others. Many? How stupid can this land owner be that we would continue to send slave upon slave to seek out what he should have known he would never receive. He does this over and over and over again until there is but one man left.
The one. His beloved son. I'm not sure where this parable of Jesus goes from sad to tragic, but if it hasn't already, it is certainly tragic once the landowner decides to send his beloved son. It is tragic because we know what is going to happen. If the tenant-farmers killed his slaves, certainly they will kill his son. So why on earth would the landowner send him off to certain death? How could he be so dumb?
This is not an academic, head in the clouds kind of question, either. I hear this question a lot, often from young folk. “Why did Jesus have to die?” Part of what they are asking, I think, is “why couldn't the God of all creation come up with a better way to fix it all? Didn't he see the writing on the wall? Didn't he know that we are greedy, ugly people and that his son would get a three punishments inflicted on the slaves? He'd be beaten. He'd be insulted. He'd be killed. How could God be so stupid as to send his beloved Son?”
It is safe to assume, I think, that since we humans are part of the problem, we will never fully understand the solution, but it is equally safe to assume that God isn't dumb. What the story of the wicked tenants tells us, in all of its ugliness and tragedy, is that God is doggedly faithful, longing from generation to generation for his people to return to him. Hosea, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel call this quality of God “long-suffering.” I prefer to call it mercy. Something that Psalm 118 tells us endures for ever.
God never gives up on us. Even to the point of sending his beloved son to certain death at the hands of the very greedy, violent people he is trying so hard to save. Tonight, as we take another step closer to Good Friday, I invite you to remember God's unending mercy and faithfulness, and be thankful. Amen.
The Parable of the Wicked Tenants is a terrible story filled with greed, envy, violence, and death. The worst part of the story, however, is the stupidity of the land owner. He sends a slave to collect his share of the produce, but the tenant-farmers beat him and send him home empty handed. So, the landowner sends another slave. This one they didn't just beat up, but they hurled insults at him while they beat him up, and he too returned home empty handed. So, the landowner sends a third slave to pick up what is rightfully his, but this slave never comes home. The tenant-farmers don't just beat him up, they don't just dishonor him, but they kill this slave.
Most of us would have learned our lesson at this point. No more slaves, these people are too violent, too greedy, I'll just cut my loses and focus on my other properties. But that isn't the story that Jesus tells. Instead, Jesus says that the landowner kept sending slaves, over and over and over again. “And so it was with many others; some they beat, and others they killed.” Many others. Many? How stupid can this land owner be that we would continue to send slave upon slave to seek out what he should have known he would never receive. He does this over and over and over again until there is but one man left.
The one. His beloved son. I'm not sure where this parable of Jesus goes from sad to tragic, but if it hasn't already, it is certainly tragic once the landowner decides to send his beloved son. It is tragic because we know what is going to happen. If the tenant-farmers killed his slaves, certainly they will kill his son. So why on earth would the landowner send him off to certain death? How could he be so dumb?
This is not an academic, head in the clouds kind of question, either. I hear this question a lot, often from young folk. “Why did Jesus have to die?” Part of what they are asking, I think, is “why couldn't the God of all creation come up with a better way to fix it all? Didn't he see the writing on the wall? Didn't he know that we are greedy, ugly people and that his son would get a three punishments inflicted on the slaves? He'd be beaten. He'd be insulted. He'd be killed. How could God be so stupid as to send his beloved Son?”
It is safe to assume, I think, that since we humans are part of the problem, we will never fully understand the solution, but it is equally safe to assume that God isn't dumb. What the story of the wicked tenants tells us, in all of its ugliness and tragedy, is that God is doggedly faithful, longing from generation to generation for his people to return to him. Hosea, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel call this quality of God “long-suffering.” I prefer to call it mercy. Something that Psalm 118 tells us endures for ever.
God never gives up on us. Even to the point of sending his beloved son to certain death at the hands of the very greedy, violent people he is trying so hard to save. Tonight, as we take another step closer to Good Friday, I invite you to remember God's unending mercy and faithfulness, and be thankful. Amen.
forgive to be forgiven
Or is it forgiven to forgive?
The lesson of the withered fig tree is one of my "top 5 things I wish Jesus had never done or said." I mean really, "ask, believe, and it will happen," that makes my job as a pastor very, very difficult. What happens when prayers go unanswered? Did I not believe? Did I not pray hard enough? Did Jesus sell me a bridge to nowhere? These are tough questions that hit at the heart of one of the mainstays of Christianity, intercessory prayer. I'll go ahead and admit it here, I struggle with intercessory prayer. What, exactly, should I be praying for?
The lesson of the withered fig tree is one of my "top 5 things I wish Jesus had never done or said." I mean really, "ask, believe, and it will happen," that makes my job as a pastor very, very difficult. What happens when prayers go unanswered? Did I not believe? Did I not pray hard enough? Did Jesus sell me a bridge to nowhere? These are tough questions that hit at the heart of one of the mainstays of Christianity, intercessory prayer. I'll go ahead and admit it here, I struggle with intercessory prayer. What, exactly, should I be praying for?
- God's will to be done?
- The peace that surpasses all understanding?
- Billy to be healed?
- Sally to get that job?
- Mikey's house to sell?
Where does the line get drawn? And if God is all powerful, all knowing, and never-changing, then what difference do my prayers make anyway? In my mind, point three above seems to be a tipping point. God's will and God's peace are always freely given. Healing sometimes happens only after death. But jobs and houses and other things of this world, well sometimes, I think, we expect a little too much from the God of All Creation. All of this doesn't mean that I don't pray for and with people, I do, and I fervently believe in the power of prayer, I just don't understand it - kind of like I don't understand the Eucharist or the Atonement. I'd love someone to sit down with me to share the tradition behind intercessory prayer someday, but, as the title above suggests, this wasn't supposed to be a post about intercessory prayer, it is supposed to be about forgiveness.
"If you hold anything against anyone, forgive him, so that your Father in heaven may forgive you your sins."
Some manuscripts have a phantom verse 26 that says, "But if you do not forgive, neither will your Father in heaven forgive your transgressions." That, my friends, is tough stuff from Jesus. Being a good Protestant, I'm all about grace and works flowing therefrom. I'm of the "forgiven to forgive" school of thought, but here Jesus seems very clear that sometimes it works the other way. I can't know God's forgiveness until I forgive my grudges. Here, like yesterday, I think Jesus speaks from a very human experience. He's been red-hot with anger at the system of oppression that has defiled God's holy Temple. His grudge is righteous and yet, he can fell within himself a change. Anger brings contempt and contempt is not from God, forgiveness is from God.
It will take him three more days to reach a point where he can forgive. He'll beg for a different way, he'll be tempted to take up arms, but in the end, as he hangs on the cross he'll call up to the Father and say, "forgive them Father, for they know not what they do." As he forgives, so is he forgiven, and with him, the whole world finds forgiveness and redemption. Am I forgiven today, I hope so, but first, let me forgive another.
April 18, 2011
that poor fig tree
Monday in Holy Week - Mark 11:12-19
There have been times in my life when I have, very rightfully, been accused of projecting my stress, frustration, anger, etc. toward something or someone that did not deserve my wrath. I'm certain that I'm not the only one who does this. It seems like a pretty standard human coping mechanism. When the stresses of work get too great, and you can't flip out on a co-worker or your boss, you are mean to the Starbucks barista. When every check stand at the grocery store is stacked 4 deep, your cart has 3 items in it, the person in front of you in the express lane has two carts full, and your child asks you for candy, you lose your temper at the poor kid.
What? I'm the only one?
Liars.
A lot of ink has been spilled on Jesus' rather odd encounter with the fig tree. Matthew and Mark both give us this strange event. In Matthew, the fig tree withers right away, but in Mark, the Gospel of choice for our parish this Holy Week, we don't see the "fruit" of Jesus' curse until the next day (and we learn a second lesson from it, I think, two chapters later).
Looking at Mark's version and its context in the whole week, I have to think that Jesus' wrath is in some way unnecessarily transferred to the poor fig tree. He's come into the Holy City on a donkey to the shouts of Hosanna, only to look into the Temple court and feel his heart break within his chest. Nothing is as God intended. The sacrifice is the object of worship. The rules are keeping the poor enslaved to the Temple authorities. Nobody is worshiping the one true God.
As the rag-tag group makes its way back to the Temple on Monday morning, Jesus is still angry. He knows that he's gonna pitch a fit, and maybe is afraid of all that power he possesses. Best not kill everyone with a fiery rain of sulfur, so he takes the first swing of his wrath at a fig-tree that had no business having fruit that morning anyway. Better to kill it than to destroy the Temple, or punch out a high priest, or something.
It is helpful for me and my faith to see Jesus as very much a human being at this moment. This week, that by now he has to know will be his last, is going to be hard. Lots of stress, lots of confrontation, lots of emotions, and Jesus experiences all of that. As I look ahead to a busy week, thinking about all the turmoil in lives right around me, my prayer is one of thanksgiving: Thank you Jesus for being a human being, it takes a lot of the pressure off me to not have to be a god.
There have been times in my life when I have, very rightfully, been accused of projecting my stress, frustration, anger, etc. toward something or someone that did not deserve my wrath. I'm certain that I'm not the only one who does this. It seems like a pretty standard human coping mechanism. When the stresses of work get too great, and you can't flip out on a co-worker or your boss, you are mean to the Starbucks barista. When every check stand at the grocery store is stacked 4 deep, your cart has 3 items in it, the person in front of you in the express lane has two carts full, and your child asks you for candy, you lose your temper at the poor kid.
What? I'm the only one?
Liars.
A lot of ink has been spilled on Jesus' rather odd encounter with the fig tree. Matthew and Mark both give us this strange event. In Matthew, the fig tree withers right away, but in Mark, the Gospel of choice for our parish this Holy Week, we don't see the "fruit" of Jesus' curse until the next day (and we learn a second lesson from it, I think, two chapters later).
Looking at Mark's version and its context in the whole week, I have to think that Jesus' wrath is in some way unnecessarily transferred to the poor fig tree. He's come into the Holy City on a donkey to the shouts of Hosanna, only to look into the Temple court and feel his heart break within his chest. Nothing is as God intended. The sacrifice is the object of worship. The rules are keeping the poor enslaved to the Temple authorities. Nobody is worshiping the one true God.
As the rag-tag group makes its way back to the Temple on Monday morning, Jesus is still angry. He knows that he's gonna pitch a fit, and maybe is afraid of all that power he possesses. Best not kill everyone with a fiery rain of sulfur, so he takes the first swing of his wrath at a fig-tree that had no business having fruit that morning anyway. Better to kill it than to destroy the Temple, or punch out a high priest, or something.
It is helpful for me and my faith to see Jesus as very much a human being at this moment. This week, that by now he has to know will be his last, is going to be hard. Lots of stress, lots of confrontation, lots of emotions, and Jesus experiences all of that. As I look ahead to a busy week, thinking about all the turmoil in lives right around me, my prayer is one of thanksgiving: Thank you Jesus for being a human being, it takes a lot of the pressure off me to not have to be a god.
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