AN EVERYDAY FAITH

Opening

What a joy it is to be here! What a privilege to be able to share my thoughts with you on this Good Friday! And my thanks to you for venturing out at noon on a Friday in the midst of a very busy week.

Holy Week

This is Holy Week, the most jam-packed week in the Christian calendar. The journey from Palm Sunday to Easter defines the Christian faith, but most of us would just as soon concentrate on the two ends and skip over the middle. The fact that our services are on Sundays makes this an easy thing to do. We love to wave our palms and say Hosanna. We love the imagery of the triumphant entry into Jerusalem. In our church, the children parade down the aisles carrying palms and passing them out to everyone. A warm fuzzy day. Although I must admit that the skinny palm leaves we use aren’t very spectacular when they are waved.

And Easter, wow! Sunrise services on the rocks by the sea, brand new outfits, Easter bonnets, Easter egg hunts, chocolate bunnies, cries and songs of “He is risen”, trumpet voluntaries and the Halleluiah Chorus. If that doesn’t get you up, out of your seats, and feeling good, I don’t know what will. Aside from Christmas Eve, there is no other day that swells our pews and churches like Easter.

Shouldn’t that be enough?

Isn’t all of that love and joy and triumph the very heart of our faith?

What more could you want?

What more could you need?

Why can’t we just have Palm Sunday and Easter and leave it at that?

 

Unfortunately, that kind of Sunday faith is not enough and it isn’t going to be of much help when things get rough. A faith that only deals with the good, only acknowledges love in the world, only knows how to deal with happy days, will disappear the moment something bad happens. We need a faith for every day, for good and bad, for crisis and for joy.

A Cross of Nails

Many years ago, at this time of year, I was given a cross made of two nails. Though I would not have normally worn it, I decided that Good Friday would be an appropriate time to do so. I was surprised at the strength of the reaction I received. One person came up to me and said, ” I didn’t think you were that kind of Christian.” Now I know what she meant, was I someone who was obsessed with the pain and suffering that Christ endured, someone who could not free themselves from dwelling on the images of torment, someone whose needle has gotten stuck in the groove of the passion. – Now that is a phrase that will date me. - This type of faith usually includes a large dose of hellfire, brimstone and the torment of the damned. Someone whose sense of judgment and vindication seems to leave no room for compassion

I am not that kind of Christian.

But these are just two sides of the same, very flat coin. If we only see good, or only see evil, we become one-dimensional. Neither is sufficient to help us face the realities of life and to live it fully. Neither will help us stay on the road when life throws us a curve.

A Spiral of Despair

So let us look at Holy week again. Let us see both sides and let us see the strength of a faith for everyday.

Holy week is a spiral from triumph to despair and back again. It is kept in balance by a faith that allows Jesus to fully feel and experience pain, even utter despair and still see beyond it to the promise and triumph of God.

The Journey

Palm Sunday starts the week off on a high note. In fulfillment of prophesy, Jesus makes his triumphant entry into Jerusalem. The people are cheering, throwing their coats in the road, waving palm branches and crying Hosanna! But already there is a cloud on the horizon. The priests are whispering,” Who is this? What trouble will he cause?” and others are saying,” Why is he riding a donkey? Where is his sword and his army?”

Jesus hears the shouts but senses the undercurrent. Despite the thrill of the crowd, He knows what’s coming.

Then Jesus goes to the Temple, but He does not pray. He hits the temple priests literally in their pocketbook by throwing out the moneychangers. Now the Priests know that Jesus is trouble. They begin to plot to get rid of him. Even in the rush of His righteous outburst, Jesus feels their glaring eyes on him, and senses their hatred.

The next day, Jesus is back in the Temple. The sick and lame press in upon Him, demanding to be healed. As one is cured, another takes his place in an unending stream of need. The weariness of the weight of humanity begins to set in.

Each of the powerful sects chooses their best debaters and sends them to Jesus. Not to learn, but to test Him, to trip him up. One slip is all they need to for their accusations. Wave after wave of trial, and Jesus fends them off. In his words, “Hypocrites, Vipers” we sense his growing frustration. He feels the jaws of the trap closing in.

Then one of his inner circle sets out to betray him. Can you hear the disingenuous, “Is it I, Lord?” and the sorrow in the answer, “You have said it.”

At dinner, all of his friends swear to support him, but he knows they won’t.

That night, troubled, feeling it all come crashing in on Him, knowing the end, He asks His three closest followers to pray with him in the garden. The same three, who only days before, saw him transfigured. Who more than anyone else should understand. And at the agonizing moment when He asks God for relief, they fall asleep. Not once, not twice, but three times. Unanswered by God, abandoned by his spiritual support, despair begins to show on the horizon.

Then, with a deceitful kiss, the jaws of the trap spring shut. His followers flee, and He is alone, so alone, in the mist of his enemies.

Throughout a night without sleep He is tormented, tortured, mocked, questioned, and beaten. Shuttled from one trumped up court to another where the trial is not about guilt or innocence, but about shifting the blame from the religious leaders to the Romans and finally to the mob. The same mob that only days before had called Him savior, now cry crucify him!

Slowly He trudges through the streets toward death. Mocked and spit on by the very people whose burden He bears. Their jeers of, “Why doesn’t God save him.” echoing the questions of His own heart. Despair becomes a wind howling through His soul.

And He cries out, “EliEli, EliEli, lemalema sabachthanisabachthani?”

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” 

Is this a final cry of despair and defeat?

It could be, it should be.

But no! It is a Psalm. A Psalm of praise no less. The 22^nd Psalm.

Let us hear it again:

Let us listen to the rhythm of despair, hope and triumph

Psalm 22

    My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?

    Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning?

 ²    O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer;

    and by night, but find no rest.

 

That is despair

 

³    Yet you are holy,

    enthroned on the praises of Israel.

 ⁴    In you our ancestors trusted;

    they trusted, and you delivered them.

 ⁵    To you they cried, and were saved;

    in you they trusted, and were not put to shame.

 

That is the hope of History the trust of a nation

 

⁶    But I am a worm, and not human;

    scorned by others, and despised by the people.

 ⁷    All who see me mock at me;

    they make mouths at me, they shake their heads;

 ⁸    ”Commit your cause to the LORD; let him deliver—

    let him rescue the one in whom he delights!”

 

That, again is the cry of despair

 

⁹    Yet it was you who took me from the womb;

    you kept me safe on my mother’s breast.

¹⁰    On you I was cast from my birth,

    and since my mother bore me you have been my God.

 ¹¹    Do not be far from me,

    for trouble is near

    and there is no one to help.

 

That is the hope of personal knowledge, the trust in a personal God

 

¹²    Many bulls encircle me,

    strong bulls of Bashan surround me;

 ¹³    they open wide their mouths at me,

    like a ravening and roaring lion.

 ¹⁴    I am poured out like water,

    and all my bones are out of joint;

    my heart is like wax;

    it is melted within my breast;

 ¹⁵    my mouth is dried up like a potsherd,

    and my tongue sticks to my jaws;

    you lay me in the dust of death.

 ¹⁶    For dogs are all around me;

    a company of evildoers encircles me.

    My hands and feet have shriveled;

¹⁷    I can count all my bones.

    They stare and gloat over me;

¹⁸    they divide my clothes among themselves,

    and for my clothing they cast lots.

 

Yet again a cry of growing despair

 

¹⁹    But you, O LORD, do not be far away!

    O my help, come quickly to my aid!

 ²⁰    Deliver my soul from the sword,

    my life from the power of the dog!

²¹    Save me from the mouth of the lion!

 

From out of the despair, a call on God’s promise

 

    From the horns of the wild oxen you have rescued me.

²²    I will tell of your name to my brothers and sisters;

    in the midst of the congregation I will praise you:

 ²³    You who fear the LORD, praise him!

    All you offspring of Jacob, glorify him;

    stand in awe of him, all you offspring of Israel!

 ²⁴    For he did not despise or abhor

    the affliction of the afflicted;

    he did not hide his face from me,

    but heard when I cried to him.

 ²⁵    From you comes my praise in the great congregation;

    my vows I will pay before those who fear him.

 ²⁶    The poor shall eat and be satisfied;

    those who seek him shall praise the LORD.

    May your hearts live forever!

 ²⁷    All the ends of the earth shall remember

    and turn to the LORD;

    and all the families of the nations

    shall worship before him.

 ²⁸    For dominion belongs to the LORD,

    and he rules over the nations.

 ²⁹    To him, indeed, shall all who sleep in the earth bow down;

    before him shall bow all who go down to the dust,

    and I shall live for him.

 ³⁰    Posterity will serve him;

    future generations will be told about the Lord,

 ³¹    and proclaim his deliverance to a people yet unborn,

    saying that he has done it.

 

And that is the triumph of Faith

A faith that can withstand whatever life throws at it.

A faith for every day

That is a gift

The gift that comes from living through the whole of Holy Week.

A gift of strength

A gift of courage

A gift of faith … for every day

Amen

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pussy Willows

Hope of Spring

The tips

Of the willow twigs

Have gone all furry

But the weatherman says snow.

Whose prediction

Will you believe?

A crocus

Bursts through

the dry brown leaves

Releasing a flash

Of yellow sun

Held in trust

Through frozen months.

But the sky

Slate gray

Presses down

About to burst.

Are you an optimist?

A first flake

Spins lazily down

A scout for

The waiting army

Of white.

Can you find green

In a corner

Of your heart

And nurture it

Shelter it

Bring it into the world

Do you have as much Hope

As a Pussy Willow?

Looking Again at Lent

Here we are at a Wednesday Lenten service. We come in faith and devotion; we come for fellowship and to share a meal; we come for a few moments of reflection and peace, a pause in the hectic flow of our lives. But what is the meaning of Lent? Where did this season come from? What is it we are supposed to be doing?

The answers to these questions are surprisingly broad. Some see it as a time of penitence, a time to consider what miserable sinners we are, a time of chastisement, a time of denial, a time even of self punishment.

Others see it as a time of meditation, a time of expectation, a time of preparation for the great feast of Easter.

Still others, especially we Protestants, tend to ignore it altogether. Our ancestors, distressed by all the accretions in religion, all that had been added and embellished in both worship and belief, sought to return to a “purer” faith; to rely solely on the Bible, and to return to the practices of the Early Christian Church.

Unfortunately, looking back to the Early Christian Church for the sources of Lent does not clear things up very much. It seems there was no uniform practice. In some places, only the Friday and Saturday before Easter were dedicated to fasting. In others it was only Holy Week. In Rome we they celebrated a three week fast, but scholars find that it was tied to the preparation of candidates who were to be baptized on Easter.

Prior to the fourth century, a forty day fast was celebrated in Alexandria, Egypt, but it had nothing to do with Easter. It was instead tied to Epiphany and the baptism of Jesus. It was a remembrance of what Mark most succinctly describes this way, “And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.”

It is only later in the fourth century that we find this forty day fast associated with Easter. Only then that it begins to take on the character of the Lent we have come to know.

So, where does this leave us? How does this help us to know how to celebrate this season? How does this inform what we do during Lent?

First, I think it gives us some freedom. If for three centuries, there was no clear consensus as to the meaning, duration, or purpose of Lent, we can look at ways to make this season meaningful to our faith journey today.

Second, I think that it allows us to think more ecumenically, and be more accepting of the various traditions of our different denominations. To see them as adding richness to the ways in which we can praise God, rather than aberrations to some set standard.

In this spirit, I would like to look at the meaning and practices that might arise if we look at Lent from the perspective of Jesus 40 days in the wilderness, and the 40 day sojourns of some other Bible figures.

Let us go back, almost to the beginning. Let us go back to Noah and his forty days and forty nights in a wilderness of water. God is angry! God sees that, “the earth was corrupt in God’s sight, and the earth was filled with violence.” So God has Noah build an arc and fill it with representatives of every living thing. And they entered the arc and it rained for forty days and forty nights. In the interest of full disclosure, I should point out that they were actually on the arc for a year, but it is the forty days that we remember.

Now God was angry and the earth and humanity were corrupted, but Noah was not in the arc for 40 days because of his sins. In fact Genesis tells us that, “Noah was a righteous man, blameless in his generation; Noah walked with God.” Noah was in the arc because he was selected by God, because he was righteous, because he was blameless. As result of this journey in the wilderness, the earth, all living things, and humanity are brought into a right relationship with God. And God forms a new covenant with his people.

The next 40 days, in fact the next two 40 days, belong to Moses. In the first, Moses goes up Mount Sinai to be instructed by God. He is given the law and a new covenant for the people of Israel. When he comes down off the mountain after 40 days of fasting and instruction, he finds the people worshiping a golden calf they have created. In his anger Moses shatters the tablets of the Ten Commandments, symbolically shattering the covenant with God. Moses is angry, but God is even angrier. God wants to again wipe this people out, to utterly destroy them. But Moses returns to the mountain for another 40 days of fasting and confrontation with God. He argues with God for the salvation of his people – and he wins! Moses was not there because he was sinful. He was not on the mountain for 40 days and forty days again to atone for his sins, though surely he had sins. He was on the mountain to bring himself and his people into right relationship with God. To discover who he was and what God wanted him to do. And he leaves the mountain with a new covenant for the people.

The last of our Old Testament figures is Elijah; Elijah, who stands alone for God before Ahab, Jezebel, the people, and the prophets of Baal. He challenged them all and with God wins the day and destroys the false prophets. When Jezebel threatens to have him killed, he flees to the desert for 40 days. Angels feed him and sustain him for the journey. Then the voice of God comes to him and asks, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” And Elijah answers, “I have been very zealous for the LORD, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.”

So God tells Elijah to stand before the Lord, because God is about to pass by. First there is a wind like a hurricane, but God is not in the wind. Then there is an earthquake, but God is not in the earthquake. Then there is fire, but God is not in the fire. Finally, there is silence, and Elijah goes out and stands before the Lord. Once more God asks Elijah, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” and Elijah gives Him the same answer as before. But in the face of all that has happened, Elijah knows that his answer is simply a statement of his fear. And God says to Elijah, “Go.” And Elijah goes. Goes to do God’s will. Goes to restore the forsaken covenant. Goes, knowing now who he is and what God wants of him.

And that brings us back to Jesus. Let us look carefully at what happens using these Old Testament stories as our guide.

The story starts with Jesus in the Jordan River. Through baptism, by those waters, he is washed clean. Like Noah, Like Moses, Like Elijah, Jesus does not enter his 40 days because he is sinful. He enters it in as pure a state as a human being can be in, having repented and turned from sin to God.

And in this turning, He is acknowledged by God. The spirit of God descends on him like a dove. Having emptied himself of sin, he can be filled with the spirit of God. And God speaks to Him in a voice from the clouds. Now for me and for many of my generation, I imagine that voice as the voice of Charlton Heston, who will always be Moses for me; a booming male voice. Perhaps for you it is a calmer, gentler voice, the comforting voice of your mother. Perhaps, as it was for Elijah, it is a voice that speaks through silence. But at the beginning of this journey of 40 days, God speaks to each of them.

God says to Jesus, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” He is claimed by God. He is loved by God. He is accepted by God. Each of our sojourners begins this way, claimed, loved, accepted.

And yet, the Spirit drives him into the wilderness. Why? If he is already claimed, if he is already loved, if he is already accepted, what does he go to the wilderness for?

The answer to that question is the key to understanding the temptation and the key to understanding Lent. I believe that the answer to that question is to learn who he is and what God intends for him.

Let us look at the temptations.

First, we are told that Jesus was famished, not just hungry, but famished. And Satan says, “If you are the Son of God, turn these stones into bread.” He is asking Jesus to use his power to meet his personal needs; and Jesus says no.

Then Satan shows him all the kingdoms of the world and offers him authority over them all. He says, I can give you personal power; and Jesus says no.

Finally, Satan takes him to the highest point of religious authority, the pinnacle of the Temple, and challenges him to throw himself off and make God prove who he is; and Jesus says no.

Satan is asking Jesus if his purpose is to seek to meet his personal needs, to seek personal power, to seek personal glory; and Jesus says no.

It is interesting to note that in the course of the Gospels, Jesus does everything that Satan asked, not for himself, but for others.

He creates bread, not for himself, but to feed others.

He is crowned King, not with a golden scepter, but with a crown of thorns.

He is thrown down and raised up, not for his own glory, but to lead us to eternal life.

Jesus is tempted in order to learn who he is and what God intends for him.

Jesus chooses to serve God and to serve others, rather than himself.

As a result, God’s people, you and I, are brought into a new covenant with God. Just as Noah’s 40 days brought us into covenant with God; and Moses 40 days brought us into covenant with God, and Elijah’s 40 days renewed our covenant with God; Jesus 40 days brings us into a new covenant, a new relationship with God.

So here we are, looking at Lent, wondering what it means and what we should be doing. There are many answers to this question. Good answers, answers steeped in tradition. But if we look at Lent in terms of the 40 day sojourns of Noah, Moses, Elijah, and Jesus, we can find a new meaning to Lent and in it a new purpose, and a new discipline.

First, repent, turn away from your sins. Leave them behind. Don’t dwell on them; don’t wallow in them, just walk away from them.

Second, hear the voice of God saying to you, “You are my beloved child; in you I am well pleased.” Know in your heart that God has claimed you; that God loves you; that God accepts you. Know that for the truth and that truth will set you free.

Use these 40 days of Lent to examine and to ask yourself who you are, and what does God intend for you. Are you here for your own self interest? To meet your own needs, seek your own power, raise yourself up? Or are you here to meet God’s needs? To meet the needs of others, to bring power to others, to raise others up?

Renew yourself in covenant with God. Rededicate yourself to God.

If you do this, if you use Lent in this way, you will be ready to go out and tell the Gospel, to work miracles in the lives of those around you, to bring peace and healing to a world in so much need of peace and healing.

You will be ready to face the pain and the passion of Good Friday.

You will experience the wonder of Easter in a new way.

You will be lifted up.

Amen

In the soft

        Enfolding dimness

            Of the deep woods

Stands

        In quiet grace

            A birch

Amid the deep

        And patterned greens

            Of pine and cedar

White trunk

        Grows from grey

            To gleaming brilliance

                Climbing to the sun

It rises

        Assured and branchless

            Into the canopy

Exploding

        In leaves of dappled green

            In glowing light

I feel myself

        Reaching, rising

            Climbing sunward

                Fingers grasping for light

To touch

        In glorious, ecstatic joy

            The life-giving beam

I revel

        Bathed

            In buttery sun

And yet

        Down in the dim

            And half-lit world

The birch

        Is striving

            Within a darker realm

Its roots

        Reach down and spread

            Within a lightless soil

In darkness

        Seeking nourishment

            And living water

Amid the soft

        Decaying mass

            Of what has lived before

I feel my toes

        Burrowing

            Into the welcoming soil

Cool

        Damp, reassuring

            It enfolds my feet

Like the birch

        Striving, growing

            Within both darkness

                And light

Enriched by both

        Pure energy of radiant life

            And dark decay of death

One giving

        Stability

            Grounded, rooted in darkness

The other

        Grace

            And beauty glowing bright

Lest we forget

        It grows

            In two directions, always

Lest we forget

        We are sustained

            Nourished in both worlds

So stands the birch

        In sturdy graceful beauty

            Lest we forget.

I am reading “The Dance” by Oriah Mountain Dreamer. In it she says, ” What if the question is not, why am I so infrequently the person I really want to be, but why do I so infrequently want to be the person I really am?” I agree with the sentiment, but then wonder why it is necessary for her to write an entire book to help us “be who we are?” It seems that it should be the easiest thing in the world to be who you are. But it isn’t. We seem so much more comfortable trying to change ourselves to conform to some ideal image. Shouldn’t we be more compassionate, more present, better, thinner, healthier, smarter, richer, or just more spiritual? How do you stop striving and just be and still be what you want? Are we so sure that what we are is not what we should be? Perhaps it is just the echoes of all the “thou shalt nots” but I am convinced that I need to control myself, to not let my inner impulses loose. And yet, I want to be who I am. How do I do that?

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