March 31: Easter

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb.

¹¹Mary stood outside the tomb wailing in grief. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; ¹²and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. ¹³They said to her, “Woman, why are you wailing with grief?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.”

¹⁴When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. ¹⁵Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you wailing? Who are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.”

¹⁶Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). ¹⁷Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” ¹⁸Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her.

Have you ever had the feeling that you just couldn’t be truly alone and quiet? If you did, something might come up that you really didn’t want to pay attention to. Instead, you turn on the tv, you check your email, you make plans with friends.

I have definitely had those moments. It’s like if I stop and let my self just be alone, I might not like what I find. So I choose to distract myself with something else or with someone else. I’ve had enough of those moments that I know what I need to do, but I have to make that dangerous choice to let the unknown surface.

I love this story of Mary Magdalene coming to the tomb early in the morning. She comes while it is still dark. She comes while she is grieving, and she comes alone. I see immense courage in her decision to approach this tomb of violence and loss, and to do it in the shadows of the early morning.

Mary stood outside of the tomb and was wailing in grief. Though we can read this verse quickly, Mary probably didn’t wail quickly. She tapped into her grief and sadness. She let herself feel it and she wept. No, in fact, she wailed!

She then sees two angels in the tomb, and these angels inquire as to her grief. They don’t say “Stop crying!” They ask, “Why are you crying?” They want to know! Through her tears, she explains why. She is so tapped into this darkness and grief, that when she turns she doesn’t even recognize that Jesus is near her.

It’s often this way for us. In our moments of darkness, in our most trying moments, it is so hard to see or feel the presence of God.

Jesus, too, wants to know what is making Mary wail. It is here in Mary’s deep grief, in her darkest moment, that Jesus appears. It is here, in the hardest time, that Jesus speaks Mary’s name.

We can distract our self from our most painful feelings and experiences. Yet, this passage illuminates that our truest selves can be found and named in those dark places.

I imagine that Mary is crying out of her love for Jesus and her desire for the world to be a place that doesn’t crucify her teacher, or dispose of his lifeless body. She was in a dark place, but she was in that dark place because of her desire for light. And it is in her choosing to be there, that Jesus appears.

Friends, this is the good news. We worship a God characterized as a light within the darkness. God appears to us when we have lost all hope. God speaks our name in the moments when we see no path forward. It is in the turmoil, in the dark, when we cannot see God, that God calls out our name and says “Marissa, turn! I am here.”

May we have the courage to approach the darkness within us. May we have the strength to open up even our most painful places, that we may find there the Presence of God. Where we fear death the most, may we find an experience of resurrection! A light within our darkness!

Alleluia! Amen.

Mar. 30: Holy Saturday

By Arden Ratcliff

Luke 23:44-56

44 It was now about noon, and darkness covered the whole earth until about three o’clock, 45 while the sun stopped shining. Then the curtain in the sanctuary tore down the middle. 46 Crying out in a loud voice, Jesus said, “Father, into your hands I entrust my life.” After he said this, he breathed for the last time.

47 When the centurion saw what happened, he praised God, saying, “It’s really true: this man was righteous.” 48 All the crowds who had come together to see this event returned to their homes beating their chests after seeing what had happened. 49 And everyone who knew him, including the women who had followed him from Galilee, stood at a distance observing these things.

50 Now there was a man named Joseph who was a member of the council. He was a good and righteous man. 51 He hadn’t agreed with the plan and actions of the council. He was from the Jewish city of Arimathea and eagerly anticipated God’s kingdom. 52 This man went to Pilate and asked for Jesus’ body. 53 Taking it down, he wrapped it in a linen cloth and laid it in a tomb carved out of the rock, in which no one had ever been buried. 54 It was the Preparation Day for the Sabbath, and the Sabbath was quickly approaching. 55 The women who had come with Jesus from Galilee followed Joseph. They saw the tomb and how Jesus’ body was laid in it, 56 then they went away and prepared fragrant spices and perfumed oils. They rested on the Sabbath, in keeping with the commandment.

____________________________________

I always feel like Holy Saturday gets lost in the midst of Holy Week.  We participate joyfully in the celebration of Palm Sunday, somberly remember the last supper and Jesus washing the feet of his disciples on Maundy Thursday, painfully and mournfully relive the suffering and humiliation of Jesus’ crucifixion on Good Friday, and then---- what?  By the time we make it through Good Friday, not to mention the best 39 days of Lent, we’re usually ready to start anticipating the resurrection.  We’ve been prayerful and reflective, and we’re ready to celebrate the risen Christ on Easter morning.  Many of us might be spending Holy Saturday baking Easter treats, or picking out a new Easter dress, or maybe dyeing Easter eggs (not to mention the vast majority of churches that hold their annual Easter egg hunts on Holy Saturday).

In an attempt to avoid the temptation of looking ahead to Easter this year, I found myself thinking back to the disciples.  What were they doing on the day after Jesus died?   I’m a bit embarrassed to admit that I didn’t know off the top of my head.  The first couple gospels I looked at didn’t really illuminate the issue, but when I got to the gospel of Luke’s account of Jesus’ death and resurrection, I realized why Matthew and Mark didn’t have much to say.

“It was the Preparation Day for the Sabbath, and the Sabbath was quickly approaching…. They rested on the Sabbath in keeping with the commandment.”

Jesus died at 3:00 on Friday, just hours before sundown, when the Sabbath would begin.  His friends had to act quickly to take his body off the cross, wrap it in linen cloth, and lay it in a tomb.  The women worked quickly to prepare the spices and perfumes with which to anoint his body, but there wasn’t time to apply them before the sun set and the Sabbath began.

Imagine what that Saturday must have been like for Jesus’ friends and followers.  There is so much to do, but they are forbidden to work.  Subsequent rabbinical work has delineated 39 creative activities Jews are forbidden to do on the Sabbath, including cooking, shearing, spinning, erasing, writing, building, planting, and igniting a fire.

Anyone who has ever experienced the death of a loved one knows that in the wake of that loss, there is SO MUCH that has to be DONE. And yet, the disciples could not do any of it.  They were stuck for an entire day just waiting.  And resting.  And thinking about the death of their dear friend and teacher. 

All while the stone rested resolutely in front of the tomb.

Maybe this Holy Saturday, we should take a lesson from the disciples.  Instead of preparing ourselves for Easter, instead of readying our hearts and minds to worship the risen Christ, maybe we should sit and rest.  Maybe we should let the pre-Easter hustle pass us by, and instead give ourselves room to breathe and think.  It’s been a long 40 days, and we all deserve a day where we can just sit and rest.  A day where we remember the life and death of Jesus.  A day where we think about how our lives have been impacted by Jesus’ ministry.  A day where we don’t build, or plant, or write, or plan, but where we just rest.

A day where we wait. 

March 29: Standing at the Foot of the Cross

by Abby Mohaupt

John 19:25b-30

Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, "Woman, here is your son." Then he said to the disciple, "Here is your mother." And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home. 

After this, when Jesus knew that all was now finished, he said (in order to fulfill the scripture), "I am thirsty." A jar full of sour wine was standing there. So they put a sponge full of the wine on a branch of hyssop and held it to his mouth. When Jesus had received the wine, he said, "It is finished."

Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

***

I can't imagine what it would be like to be Jesus, nailed to a cross on a hill, in agony.

I can imagine what it would be like to someone who loves someone in deep pain... only able to watch and wait. But what would it feel like to be someone at the foot of the cross, looking up at a man you've loved and believed in? 

Today, just coming to the noon hour, I'm wondering what Mary Magdalene was thinking. Maybe this:

Jesus, you said you’d save us. I believed you—because you saved me.

When I couldn’t think or live or survive---when I was consumed by demons—you saved me.

I felt you call my demons out, and I followed you—finally healed, finally whole.

                        I left my home and my family. I left my livelihood and my dreams.

                        I left all that I knew to follow you. To believe in you.

I heard you tell the lost that they are loved. I heard you tell the broken that they are healed. I heard you tell the sinful that they are clean.

I watched you feed the hungry. I watched you comfort the weeping. I watched you heal the very sick, calling back to life from death itself.

I ate the bread you broke. I drank the wine you made from water.

I followed you across Galilee and I would follow you still. I believed your words and your works and your heart.

  

Jesus, you said you’d save us. I believed you.

                       

I believe that you’re the Son of God

                       

You quieted the storms.

                                    You called for justice.

                                                You loved the forgotten.

Save yourself. 

Save yourself not for those who mock you, but for those who love you.  Save yourself for us.

Don’t leave us.

Don’t leave me.

Mar. 28: Maundy Thursday

By Rob Martin

Washing of the Feet by John August Swanson

One of my favorite poets is John Donne.  He was born in London to an affluent Catholic family, converted to Anglicanism as a young man and became an Anglican priest.

On this Maundy Thursday I share with you one of his poignant poems “Hymn to God, my God, in my Sickness”:

Since I am coming to that holy room,

            Where, with the choir of saints for evermore,

I shall be made thy music as I come

            I tune the instrument here at the door,

And what I must do then, think here before.

Whilst my physicians by their love are grown

            Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie

Flat on this bed, that by them may be shown

            That this is my south-west discovery

            Per fretum febris, by these straits to die.

I joy, that in these straits, I see my west;

            For, though their currents yield return to none,

What shall my west hurt me?  As west and east

            In all flat maps (and I am one) are one,

            So death doth touch the resurrection.

Is the Pacific Sea my home?  Or are

            The eastern riches?  Is Jerusalem?

Anyan, and Magellan, and Gibraltar,

            All straits, and none but straits, are ways to them,

            Whether where Japhet  dwelt, or Cham, or Shem.

We think that Paradise and Calvary,

            Christ’s Cross and Adam’s tree, stood in one place;

Look Lord, and find both Adam met in me;

            As the first Adam’s sweat surrounds my face,

May the last Adam’s blood my soul embrace.

So, in his purple wrapped receive me Lord,

            By these his thorns give me his other crown;

And as to others’ souls I preached thy word,

            Be this my text, my sermon to mine own,

            Therefore that he may raise the Lord throws down.

Much peace and grace,

Rob