What's in the way?

The tomb was empty that first Easter morning.

In the various gospel tellings of the story, there may have been an angel or two there to tell the women that Jesus was alive or the women may have simply discovered it, told the disciples about the empty tomb and they then rushed in to see the linen clothes lying where there should have been a body. According to John’s account, Mary is the first to see Jesus in person as she turns away from the empty tomb. The point is, the tomb is empty.

And the characters in the story each react with fear, wonder, disbelief - seemingly anything but the realization that what Jesus said would happen, did happen. No one came to the tomb three days after his death joyfully singing “Jesus Christ is risen today” and expecting to see Jesus sitting up and having a celebratory pancake breakfast.

But that’s how we celebrate it. Just as if the expected happened. The tomb was empty. Jesus is alive. And then, once the singing is over, the chocolate eggs are found (and eaten), the lilies have been taken home, we’re left with living that life-giving story: Jesus is alive. 

Jesus is alive in you and me because the life of Jesus showed us how to live. Jesus showed us how the divine spirit is alive in all creation and how we can live that in the world, through love and grace, care and compassion, how we - you and I - are capable of being what Jesus is. That’s how Jesus is alive.

The tomb is empty because, try as we might, the way we live in the world, the way of power and control, selfishness, material wealth, ego and desire, cannot kill the life-giving love that is God. That’s the point of the resurrection story. Love wins.

The tomb is empty because love is alive. It can’t be contained. It gets out in the world and it lives through us, through all things that are alive. Maybe a question to ask of this story is “what gets in the way?”

See, I left out a detail of the story didn’t I? We focus on the empty tomb, but the tomb is empty because the stone covering the opening had been moved. Jesus didn’t pass through it or sneak out another way, the stone was rolled away.

Maybe that’s a detail we pass by a little too lightly. What’s the stone that gets in the way of us living as Jesus teaches? Maybe there are stones. Maybe there are many and they’re different shapes and sizes. And each of us will have our own stones to move, too. They will be heavy, so what would it take to move them?

It seems in the story that Jesus didn’t move the stone all by himself. All four of the gospel accounts mention angels being present.

Perhaps, when we’re celebrating Easter this year, we might pause for a moment and wonder about what gets in the way of love breaking out of the tomb and getting into the world. Perhaps we could take a moment and look for angels around us, the helpers who might move the stone with us. They’re there. Just as there are stones in the way, there are hearts and hands to move them.

In the moment

Our churches will be handing out palm crosses on Palm Sunday. I think the symbolism of the palm, that was waved in celebration to welcome the hero Jesus, fashioned into the cross, the means of his death, is a meaningful and thought provoking representation of that last week before Easter. It helps us hold on to the story.

I've often struggled a bit with Palm Sunday “traditions.” When I was younger, we had the big long palm fronds, you know the kind that you can fan out or hold tight together (making them into "swords" was an important feature when you're a little boy). Later I remember having the leafier ones that we were encouraged to wave as we walked around, pretending to celebrate Jesus' arrival in Jerusalem. Once or twice, I remember going outside and walking round the block, waving palms branches and singing, celebrating that Jesus, the Messiah was here, just like they would have back then. The neighbours probably thought we were crazy. Maybe they were right.

That's my struggle. We can't do it just like they did back then. I don't mean just the palm branches that aren't native to where I live or the man on a donkey or even the presence of Jesus himself. I don't mean the different context of how we'd welcome a messiah now or even what it would mean to be one. I mean the moment. We know what happens next in the story. The people who welcomed Jesus that day, the people who accompanied Jesus that day, even the soldiers who stood by and watched Jesus that day, had no idea what was going to happen next. They only knew that day.

We do know what happens.  Even as we tell this story of celebration and joy, we know that it turns into something very different over the next few days. That's not a bad thing and I'll come to that in a minute. But just right now, give me this moment. Can we hold this moment and find meaning in it before we move on?

The people who celebrated Jesus that day had likely heard the stories about the miracles, how he fed people who were hungry and healed people who were sick. They heard how he talked about peace and the new kingdom and they'd heard him called the messiah, the promised one. And that could mean only one thing: this was the guy to overthrow the Romans and restore Israel to its former glory. After all, he was a son of the house of the great king David. Their perception of Jesus was very practical, down to earth and in the moment. That's what all the fuss was about.

But that raises a question: are we thankful and honouring our hero for what's been accomplished or are we really celebrating what we expect of them?

Let's first celebrate the man who has done so much, shared such compassion and love and comes, alone, humbly riding a donkey, a sign of peace. Stop there for a moment and we might then be able to hear the message that he brings and see the transformative power of the way of life he teaches by his own example.

But we don't pause there nearly long enough, nearly often enough. Perhaps if we did, we would find the strength to live that way and grow into a better life and better relationships with respect and hope.

Instead, we hear the fears of those who's power is threatened and their fears become our fears. We see only weakness if our hero doesn't defend when attacked, let alone reply in kind. We feel disappointment when flaws are exposed, very human failings appear and our expectations aren't met. How often have we abandoned heroes who did meet our expectations or, worse, turned on them?

That's when knowing how the story proceeds can teach us. The same faces that were in the crowd to welcome him were likely in the crowd that condemned him. We are sometimes still that crowd, thinking that, somehow, disappointment, hurt and fear should be satisfied by punishment rather than compassion and understanding.

This journey from Palm Sunday to Easter is our journey, too. Celebration, conflict, death and brokenness are all part of our living. We begin with love, sometimes wandering far away from it, turning on it, even, when it disappoints us. Yet love still returns to us. When will we turn to love?

Let it grow

“Sir, we wish to see Jesus.”

The gospel of John tells a story of two Greeks, visiting Jerusalem for the Passover festival, who come to see Jesus. Literally, it seems. They very politely ask one of the disciples, who asks another and they go and tell Jesus. You know how that happens: when you want to meet a celebrity, you have to get past their entourage or security. You might even need a backstage pass or something like it to get into the “meet and greet” that’s your opportunity to meet this famous person face to face, shake their hand, maybe even get a selfie.

Except, I don’t think that’s what’s happening here. Not for us, anyway. Jesus is definitely a celebrity by now. John places this story after Jesus’ big arrival in Jerusalem that we now call Palm Sunday and before his arrest. As John tells it, this is Jesus’ last public words. So I think it’s safe to say that these people had heard of Jesus. Foreigners, likely not Jewish, who’d heard about the signs, the healings, the preaching and came to see for themselves what this is all about.

They might well have said “show us Jesus.”

I have to think that’s why the author of John includes these characters. Either the author then left out a paragraph - the one where Jesus says “hi, how are you, I’m Jesus” - or they’re incidental filler and seemingly ignored or: there’s something else going on here, something reflected in how Jesus answers. 

“Show us Jesus.” Jesus answers that it’s time, then, time to be “glorified.” I don’t think Jesus means that his death will be glorious or that he’ll shine in a Transfiguration-like moment, but rather that something will come of his life, something greater than these moments of love, healing, compassion and grace that he’s lived. Jesus changed lives he touched, but that’s only the beginning: he’s a seed that’s been planted.

And that’s exactly what he tells them. The seed must be planted, it must be nourished and grow in order that there is fruit. He’s planted the seed of love and showed us that the divine spirit and human soul that is him is in us, too. It’s not about Jesus the person, it’s Jesus the Way, Jesus the spirit, Jesus the love. It’s the Jesus that’s in all of us. That’s what Jesus has shown all of us. 

Every now and then, people wonder what Jesus would make of the world today. The classic is “what would Jesus say if they were to show up at church on a Sunday morning?” I think they’d look around the room, look everyone in the eye and say “show me Jesus.”

Context, Context, Context

If you’ve never been to church or read the bible, you might still recognize “John 3:16” thanks to born again christian Rollen “The Rainbow Man” Stewart. He first held up a John 3:16 placard at an NBA game in 1979 and since then, others have regularly brought the sign to baseball games, hockey games, football games, even the Superbowl. No explanation, no other words, just John 3:16.

Not Stewart, though. He's currently serving three consecutive life terms in prison relating to a botched kidnapping attempt. He should have read John 3:16.

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life."

Thing is, we often treat John 3:16 just like that placard. Like it’s a single, stand alone saying, as if we don’t need to know any more than that. It’s all right there. Even Martin Luther apparently described it as “the gospel in miniature.”

But that’s not how it happens. According to the author of the gospel of John, Jesus says this in a conversation with a Jewish leader named Nicodemus who seems open, at least, to hearing what Jesus has to say. So they talk and Jesus has a bit of a monologue in which he talks about the Spirit and being born again from above. That’s a loaded sound bite for another occasion, but, as he continues to talk, Jesus moves on to talking about himself using a metaphor he thinks someone like Nicodemus would understand. He reminds him of a strange story involving a bronze serpent that heals.

It’s recorded in the book of Numbers, the fourth book of the Hebrew bible. It’s a story from when the Hebrew people were in the desert with Moses. They’d left slavery in Egypt far behind, but they hadn’t yet come to the Promised Land. They were complaining, as they did a lot in those days, rebelling against Moses’ leadership and complaining about how God was — and wasn’t — taking care of them. They doubted.

So God sends poisonous snakes that kill many of them, causing the people to come to Moses and beg forgiveness for complaining and doubting. Wait, it gets weirder. Moses talks to God and God tells Moses to make a bronze serpent and put it on a pole. Those that look at it and believe will be healed and saved from the snakes. They do, they have faith, it’s all good and everyone moves on.

So Jesus tells Nicodemus that he, Jesus, is like the bronze serpent. He will be lifted up and those who believe “may have eternal life in him.” Then, he hits him with John 3:16. “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life."

But he’s not done yet, he moves on to one of John’s “go to” images: light. Jesus says that those who believe will come to the light and those who don’t will stay in the darkness. In the light, good will be seen for being good, but evil will try and stay in the dark where it can’t be seen.

I feel like I just went to a bible study there for a minute. But that’s just my point: I don’t think that one verse can stand alone without the context of Jesus’ conversation with Nicodemus.

We might also get mired in the debate about exactly how that verse is translated. The “so” part, I mean. Is it about how God loves us “so much” or how God loves us “like this?” And, before you know it, we’re measuring the value or the manner of God’s love.

But it’s not about that. I believe God’s love is immeasurable and God’s gift is Jesus’ life. The love is immeasurable, unconditional and freely given and Jesus is the demonstration of that love at work. I don’t think the point here is God’s generosity in loving or giving, it’s our choosing to accept it, believe in it and do something with it.

Just like the bronze serpent story, it’s not enough to look up at Jesus and proclaim “we’re saved!” I think John includes this story of Jesus and Nicodemus to talk about how we love, not God. This is Jesus saying “God loves you, God sent me to show you how to live that love, now what are you going to do?” It’s your choice: what are you going to do?

Sometimes the Way is Messy

Jesus gets angry. You may already know the story I’m going to refer to, and I’ll get to that in a minute, but I think it’s worth noting that it’s not an isolated incident. There are a few stories where it’s abundantly clear that Jesus can be irritated, frustrated, even out right angry. Jesus also cries, forgets, learns and gets tired. There doesn’t seem to be any biblical account of Jesus laughing, but there are certainly moments of humour in some of the parables and I feel pretty confident that someone as passionately human as Jesus would have covered all the emotions.

I think we do tend to play that down, though, and it’s unfortunate because connecting with Jesus’ humanity is an important part of understanding how Jesus shows us the way to the divine spirit that is in our own humanity. The way to God isn’t out there somewhere, it’s in here, in each heart and soul, in the wholeness of each person.

Let’s get back to angry Jesus. The story I’m referring to has historically been called “Jesus Cleanses the Temple.” Jesus goes into the Temple at Passover, sees the animals being sold for sacrifice and the moneychangers working overtime (it’s a busy festival) and he gets angry. He overturns their table and chases people and animals out.

The story appears in all four gospels. Matthew, Mark and Luke place the story in the last week of Jesus’ life, just days before the crucifixion. In their story, Jesus angrily denounces the profiteering behaviour of the sellers and tells them they’ve made the Temple “a den of thieves.” So Jesus is angry, not because of the selling, but of the cheating, unjust behaviour of the sellers, it seems. After all, pilgrims to the Temple need all those things: various animals were required for sacrifice and you couldn’t take the everyday Roman coins into the Holiest of Holies, they had to be changed into Jewish shekels. There were rules around the rituals to be performed when meeting God and even in the era of the Second Temple, this was still where God lived. For Jesus, the unjust behaviour was an affront to God. You can also see how annoying this would be to the Temple authorities and how it played into the end of Jesus’ life.

The author of John, though, tells the story differently. Even while the basic features are the same, I think they had a different reason for telling the story. In John, this happens near the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, right after the miracle of changing water into wine at the Cana wedding. He says nothing about the behaviour of the sellers and money changers, but focuses on the things, the animals and money, saying they’ve made God’s house a “marketplace.” He upsets things and chases the animals out and, when the people ask for a sign of his authority to behave this way, he simply says “destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” John says they don’t understand that he means himself, the temple of his body, but later, after his death, the disciples remembered.

In this telling of the story, I think Jesus, right from the start, saw all those things people needed for ritual as just that, things. And things can get in the way between us and God. An open, honest and true heart’s all that’s needed to meet God. And that’s why Jesus talks about “the temple” of his body. That’s where God lives, not in a temple of stone, but in the bodies of all living things. That temple has physical shape, spirit and intellect, all of which we use to live the wholeness of God into the world. There’s more to it than just the stuff that can get in the way, there’s the stuff we need in order to care for the temple and build our relationship with God.

 

So what does that for you? How are you caring for your temple? What helps you be whole? What brings you closer to God in you? 

Something To Get Behind

I don’t think Jesus was really one for name calling, but sometimes he just has to call people out for their behaviour.

“Get behind me, satan!” Jesus says to Peter. (Mark 8:33) Seems like a bit of a slap in the face, especially for one of his key followers, but Jesus had good reason. He’d been talking about what’s ahead for him: the suffering, the rejection and death and the resurrection after three days, basically predicting the future. In Peter’s defence, it was pretty dark stuff. So Peter tells Jesus to stop talking like that. “You’ll scare people off,” I imaging him saying, and it’s demoralizing for the disciples who’ve already given up their lives to follow him. Nobody wants to follow someone to death, especially someone who teaches love, grace and kindness. If that’s what you get for living that way, well, you can see how Peter might think Jesus could spin it a little more positively. Besides, that isn’t the way Peter hopes the messiah is headed.

But calling Peter the devil, that seems a little harsh. Maybe it is. And maybe he didn’t. 

I think it’s easy to assume Jesus was annoyed with Peter and that he’s telling Peter to get out of the way, that he’s just as threatening to Jesus’ ministry as the devil. But we assume that tone. Satan is an ancient Hebrew term that can mean a legal adversary, a questioner or accuser. In this sense, it’s not inherently evil, nor is it destructive. So, first of all, maybe Jesus wasn’t doing anything more than pointing out that Peter was questioning what he was doing.

But even if he was suggesting Peter was doing more than that, what if we didn’t read this as Jesus telling him to get out of the way, but rather to get onside. Get behind me and back me up, Jesus could be saying, bring your questions, bring your criticism, even, but bring it to my mission and follow me. Because he has more to say about following him.

What if we heard Jesus then tell Peter (the tester) to start thinking differently. Open your mind to what’s really true, Peter, what’s really important in life and stop thinking the way human beings usually do. Think beyond your personal comfort, think beyond the stuff, the power and the certainty that comes with control of things. Open your mind and your heart to what life really is about. Otherwise, you won’t understand this next bit: “those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it” (Mark 8:35).

Let go of the stuff we associate with this life, the things like wealth and power, and pick up kindness, compassion and love. Those are the things that are life-giving. The Jesus I know would never invite anyone to suffering, brokenness and death. He acknowledges the struggles of life and sees so much of it in his ministry, but his response is always love and life. That’s what he wants Peter to get behind.

If you want to follow me, take up your cross, he says, and follow me (Mark 8:34). I don’t think he means the instrument of pain and death, but the individual challenges each of us may face in living the life of Jesus in the world. Love, compassion and grace aren’t always easy, whether it’s loving others, loving ourselves or even loving God. But the world is changed when we do and I, for one, could really get behind that.

Where To Begin

Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, was on Valentine’s Day this year. That happened three times in the last century and it’ll happen three times in this one (2018, 2024 and 2029) and then we’re good until the next century. It happens because Valentine’s Day is a fixed date and Ash Wednesday isn’t. The forty days of Lent are tied to the date of Easter which is the first Sunday after the full moon that occurs on or after the spring equinox. It’s complicated.

I mean no disrespect to anyone who’s confounded by the two traditions happening at once. I would say, though, that it’s a pretty good reminder of life being more than scheduling and more than rituals.

I wonder also - and I’m pretty sure I’ve said this before and will again in ’29 - what Jesus would say if he were here. A conversation with Jesus might be helpful right now.

I think he’d find it funny that we have one day to celebrate love and forty to wonder about our sinful selves with prayer, fasting and almsgiving (the hallmarks of Lent). But wait, we might say, Valentine’s Day isn’t about your kind of love, Jesus. I think he’d find that even funnier because I think Jesus is about the wholeness of love as much as he’s about the wholeness of our being. Love is love, Jesus might say, and it’s for every day. And when you’re wondering about yourself and your relationship with God and the world around you, there isn’t a better place to begin than with the fullness of being love. What, Jesus might say, do you think I was doing in the wilderness?

Hmm. Well, here we are at Lent, the forty days before Easter set aside by the church to mirror the forty days Jesus spent in the wilderness (a story told in each of the gospels of Mark, Matthew and Luke). It’s traditionally been a time of repentance and preparation for Easter, kind of like Advent is for Christmas. Lent has always been a solemn time of self-reflection, prayer and contemplation observed with fasting and penance. Some people still give things up for lent, a symbolic denial of things that tempt us.

Ash Wednesday begins that time with the ceremonial marking of a cross on the forehead, a cross made with oil and ash from the burning of palm branches from the previous year’s Palm Sunday. It’s accompanied by the reminder that we are from dust and will return to dust (Genesis 3:19) and the admonition to repent. We enter the season of Lent, then, suitably prepared: we acknowledge that we are mortal and sinful.

Okay, says Jesus, I see what you did there, but hang on a minute. That’s not how I went into the wilderness, is it?

In each of the gospels, the wilderness is preceded by an account of Jesus’ baptism by John. Mark says that there was a “Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.’ And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness” (Mark 1:10-12).

So first of all, Jesus goes into the wilderness knowing that he is loved by God and that God’s happy that he is who he is. Second, it’s that same Spirit that comes to him at baptism that sends him into the wilderness - drives him there, Mark writes. Jesus doesn’t go out there alone. Whether you believe the point of the story is for Jesus to confront the devil or, like me, you think this is really a story about Jesus wondering and learning about himself, he doesn’t go there alone. He goes loved by God and inspired by the Spirit.

And all this happened before Jesus begins his ministry. I think Jesus went out there to wonder about himself, his relationship with God and with other people, to wonder about the world and what was happening. To reflect without any distractions and contemplate things with an open mind. Of course, with that freedom and openness to wonder came temptation, it always does.  But with the Spirit, Jesus faced it and overcame it.

Then, Jesus embarks on his ministry. He lives his true self - the divine spirit and the earthly being. He lives love.

Valentine’s Day, a day of love, on Ash Wednesday? Seems like a good coincidence to me. If you’re going to take some time this lent for self-examination and prayer, begin with loving yourself and knowing that you, like all God’s children, are loved by God just for who you are. Remember that you come from the dust of the earth and will return there, but remember that life is for living. And remember that both the divine spirit and the dust of creation that is in you connects you in a profound and intimate relationship with all things.

Now. Where shall we go next?