First Sunday of Easter 05

Second Sunday of Easter
April 3, 2005

"They devoted themselves to the teaching of the apostles, and to the communal life, to breaking of the bread and the prayers..." (Acts 2: 42-47) "In this you rejoice, although now for a little while you may have to suffer through various trials... (1 Peter 1:3-9) Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, ' peace be with you '" (John 20:19-31)

St. Luke provides an idealized description of the early Christian community. We know from other parts of Acts that this ideal was not always in evidence in real life. The gospel tells the story of Jesus' first visit to the apostles after his resurrection, featuring the "doubting Thomas" needing to see and touch before he could believe what had happened.

Sometimes, as I lay motionless in bed at night meditating on the mysteries of our faith, heaven and eternity, and what I have always believed and been taught, I'm suddenly seized by my own doubt. Are we are just making this all up to console ourselves? Like Elie Weisel I can become overwhelmed by all the selfishness, suffering, meanness and death apparently untouched by God's hand. Maybe my midnight aloneness is a metaphor. Maybe we really are all alone in the universe. Sometimes it seems that my efforts to remove the uncertainty of faith results only in more doubt, compounded by guilt and anxiety. I'm probably the only one who has ever doubted, or felt guilty about it! Perhaps this nagging doubt is part of what Peter was referring to when he says that we may have to suffer various trials before our final rejoicing.

Then I think about how Jesus with love and persistence confronted these doubts in his followers. None of them was certain about what had happened. They had their own version of doubt. Some of us, like Thomas, need the reassurance of direct experience of the senses. How else to explain great need for signs and miracles? Others of us require internal validation of the correctness of our faith, God "appearing" in private experience. One of my favorite reassurances is to hear that I'm not the only one who has these doubts and needs. Perhaps the story of the early faith of the community (even in idealized form) of mutual trust and support is all that stands between us and darkness.

Jesus greeted his disciples with a blessing of peace. This must have been a wonderful comfort to them in their confusion and doubt St. Paul says, faith is the hope in things unseen. Jesus said, "Blessed are they who have not seen, and have believed". Faith is all that remains for those who doubt. Perhaps the best kind of support and encouragement we can provide is imitating Christ with the blessing of peace to one another. Christ is truly risen. Peace be with you!

Easter Sunday

Easter
March 26, 2005

"This is the day the Lord has made..." (Psalm 118) "Do you not know that a little yeast leavens all the dough? Clear out the old yeast, so that you may become a fresh batch of dough...let us celebrate...with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth." (I Corinthians 5: 6-8) "... They did not yet understand... that he had to rise from the dead." (Luke 24: 13-35)

The women are the first to reach Jesus' tomb, followed closely by several disciples, competing with each other to see who could get their first. (Isn't that just like us men?) They don't know what to make of what they see. The empty tomb is the symbol of our confidence and hope that life triumphs over death. We still have a hard time understanding what it means. We get distracted by making it a proof of doctrines, and lose the essential mystical truth: with God, death becomes life.

How can the stench and decay of death become the sweet smell of new life? A close friend of mine speaking recently at the memorial service for his brother wrote the following. "... We may seem to just grow old and die.... (but) when people die it is like the passage from winter to spring, when the world gets warmer and greener and everywhere flowers and trees are springing to new life. When we die, we enter into a new spring, and eventually the whole world will join us in the new and unending springtime."

Our spiritual ancestors, moving from place to place in the harsh, unforgiving environment of the desert, did not have time to wait for the dough to rise. Their unleavened bread was their sign of trust in the Most High to bring them through to safety. It was essential nourishment of body and soul without frills or anything unnecessary. St. Paul's metaphor of yeast in the bread dough also reminds me of helping my grandmother knead the dough, waiting for it to rise (it seemed like it took forever) so we could get on with the baking and the pleasure of eating warm fresh bread. The waiting is over. God is our yeast. We are the rising dough preparing for the best part, a feast of the senses.

I am made aware of this every time someone I love walks through my door. Early this morning a friend was here to get me ready for the day. Just now Jane brought me my favorite breakfast, an egg burrito. Later other friends and family will be here to help us out in many ways. I will have the privilege of seeing beloved clients. I will be in contact by e-mail and phone with many others whom we love and who love us. All our days filled with people like this. This is the empty tomb, the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth, the rising dough, the promise of Spring and new life. "This is the day the Lord has made..."

Palm Sunday

Palm Sunday
March 20, 2005

"The Lord God is my help... I shall not be put to shame." (Isaiah 50:4-7) "My God... why have you abandoned me" (Psalm 22) "Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather he emptied himself..." (Philippians 2: 6-11)

For the first few centuries of Christian history, the crucifixion of Christ was felt by many believers to be a humiliation, better forgotten. Nevertheless St. Paul, the earliest written witness to the events of Christ's life, writes often about the mystical significance of his suffering, death and resurrection. Here in Philippians, he refers to Jesus "emptying himself" of all appearance of divinity. On the Cross, Jesus expressed his desolation and hopelessness, praying in the words of Psalm 22. Perhaps Jesus, like all of us, did not have the consolation of being sure that things were going to turn out OK, and needed as much trust in his Father as we do. So, we quote the prophet today, "the Lord God is my help..." No dramatic or miraculous rescue, just Jesus in the presence of his Holy Spirit, seeing his life through to the end. He put himself in our situation, so we can call God an intimate friend as he did.

This is a model for all of us dealing with the sorrows, pains and disappointments of life. For those of us who trust that Jesus is uniquely divine and human, his death and raising from the dead was a cosmic event which changed history and transformed creation. For those who do not so believe, the way he faced every challenge of his life with confidence in the Most High is a unique life leading us back to God. Christ belongs to all of us. We all share his destiny. All that happened for him will happen soon for us. All of us are given a spiritual nature which is godlike. Through it we can have the same trust that Jesus did in the presence of his Holy Spirit.

This would be an opportune time for us to reflect on our own "passion". What opportunity do we have at this moment to see it through to completion? I daily think of you, my friends and family, and the pains, fears and quiet heroism we bear together. The spirituality of Christ's passion is corporate. We are all on the Cross together, each in our own way. Christ's passion and death is not primarily an indictment of our guilt. Neither is it only an occasion for compassion for him, apart from compassion for each other. The story of the cross is not separate from the resurrection. It is our story, and our promise of final progress into the fullness of the kingdom of God where there will be no more longing, sadness or suffering. Just us and God without end.

Fifth Sunday of Lent

Fifth Sunday of Lent
March 13, 2005

"Oh my people, I will open your graves and have you rise from them... and I will put my spirit in you that you might live..." (Ezekiel 37:12-14). "Lazarus, come out..." (John 11:1-45). "... You are not in the flesh... you are in the spirit..." (Romans 8:8-11).

These passages taken together almost comprise a "little Easter", focusing us on our present and future destiny: restoration to life in the spirit. The prophet has a vision of the dead rising from their graves. Jesus brings a dead friend back to life, preparing Lazarus, his family and us for our final resurrection.

Lazarus is called forth from the tomb as all of us will be. And we don't even have to wait until our physical death. Rebirth in the Spirit is occurring whenever we choose life over death, love over selfishness, trusting in the divine process instead of trying to control it. Lazarus' sisters, Martha and Mary, are gradually brought around to comprehend this meaning of resurrection. His words at the end of the story "untie him and let him go" could be understood as a metaphor for this mystical and spiritual process. As usual, there is more than meets the eye behind these stunning deeds of Jesus.

Sandwiched between these two striking images of resurrection is St. Paul contrasting life in the flesh and in the spirit. His definition of "flesh" has often been (mis)understood to refer to the physical body, in opposition to the "spirit". It also can also refer to something like "fearful, self-centered ego, looking out for number one". The goal of the spiritual life is to gradually allow the spirit to be reborn within us. The flesh is not to be eliminated -- that would be impossible even if it were desirable -- but to be allowed to be guided by the Spirit for building up the earthly community. When we resist this, we continue to live "in the flesh".

I was thinking about the decline of my own physical strength and what it feels like to be in this body which feels everything but cannot move. As I did, I realized that very seldom, if ever, does it seem like a burden. Ironically, I feel lighter than I ever did in my more athletic days when I thought I had to work so hard to stay fit. Even if we were spared the immediate ravages of earthly life, we all (even Lazarus) die sooner or later. This seems to be the limitation associated with placing too much emphasis on praying for miraculous physical cures. It can distract us from the real goal of spiritual rebirth. The Most High loves us as deeply and emotionally as Jesus loved Lazarus. We are daily being called forth from the tomb of death to new life in the Spirit.