The angels watched and waited, and as the Passover began in his thirty-third year, God was praised as a liberator, while the one who frees was taken into custody, swiftly tried, driven like a beast to the place of a skull, and nailed to a tree. And the heavens wept.
                                             - "Bo" Crowe

READING:
Jesus, seeing that everything had been completed so that the Scripture record might also be complete, then said, “I’m thirsty.” A jug of sour wine was standing by. Someone put a sponge soaked with the wine on a javelin and lifted it to his mouth. After he took the wine, Jesus said, “It’s done . . . complete.”
                                              - from John 19


REFLECTION:
In the beginning – or even before the beginning if that makes sense – there was God.  That’s it; God.  There were no stars to adorn the night sky… indeed, there was no sky to be adorned.  There was no sun to rise above the world’s horizon signaling a glorious, new day, and no world to greet this divine herald.  But that was okay, because God was perfectly content, complete, and whole.  God’s heart, you see, burned with a Light that warmed and illumined from the inside out, and God’s Spirit swelled with Joy. 

And that’s where it all began, with God’s Joy; because it eventually - and inevitably - overflowed its source.  Some say that God breathed Spirit into the void; others that God spoke into that void.  But if we had been there we would know that God laughed; God’s Spirit over­flowed with a rich, divine laughter that left life in its path.  God’s laughter echoed through the void and a universe sprang forth, a universe full of songbirds and sailors, mountains and mystics, daylight and darkness, rivers and raccoons, black holes and maypoles, damsels and their heroes, thunder and wonder, and all was marked by joy!

God gazed on this marvelous creation and laughed again… woops! More life.  God couldn’t help it – God can’t help it – for God to be is to create; to laugh joyfully again and again into any void that appears, filling it with life.  God gazed on this marvelous creation and was strangely attracted to one group of creatures that seemed very much like God; made in God’s image, per­haps.  So God befriended these creatures - women, men, and children alike – and even allowed them to stand in for God, charging them to care for the rest of the creation.

If all this sounds too good to be true, it was; for God’s chosen creatures, like God, were free, and in freedom chose to abandon God.  Foolish as it may seem, humankind turned from the light to walk in darkness; women, men, and children covered their ears to block the sound of di­vine laughter, the very laughter that alone could fulfill their lives and fill them with joy.

Was God angered by this choice?  No.  Was God tempted to end it all right there and show them just who was boss?  …Well, maybe for a moment; but when all is said and done God is God, and God’s heart was broken.  All of the creation, you see, including those special creatures, represents God’s own family; all of the creation is made from the very stuff of God.  So God wept at the sight of all the carnage called forth by humankind from the underbelly of creation: estrangement, exile, greed, anger, hatred, violence… was there no end to this malady, no end to this empty parody of life?

It seemed that there was no end… that there could be no end, unless God ended it.  So God watched and God wept.  For eons it seemed, God watched and wept; but through it all con­tinued to love these creatures, and strove within for a way to regain their trust, a way to demon­strate clearly that Divine Love knows no limits, and will settle for nothing less than fullness of life for each one of them.  Finally, in a flash of insight God exclaimed, I will become as my creatures; I will share their fate, regain their trust, and above all demonstrate that my love is theirs now and for always.

A novel idea, this.  A novel and, perhaps, dangerous idea; for God to become human, sharing its risks, its frailties!  So God called together heaven’s brain trust – rank upon rank of angels - and ran the plan by them.  An excellent plan, so far as it goes, one angel remarked.  But it’s too dangerous; it has no safeguards.  What if something goes wrong?  What if you are re­jected, or worse assaulted by these ungrateful creatures?  No, we angels cannot recommend that you follow through with this plan.

But God thought otherwise, and as if to avoid a change of heart, swiftly left the assembly, shedding divine robes in haste; rich, blue robes whose stars – all save one - were strewn helter-skelter on the floor.  Before the angels could respond, however, before they could block the door and reason with God to stop this foolishness, the stars burned holes in the floor, and the angels, peering through in curiosity, looked down on a pasture shrouded with darkness and scattered here and there with sheep, and on a small band of shepherds warming themselves by a fire.  Sensing their fear the angels spoke gently to the shepherds.  Don’t be afraid, one began, we mean you no harm.  In fact, another chimed in, we bring good news, joyful news; for this very night a savior is born for you, your - oh, what’s their word; oh yes - your Messiah.  Turning in fear to flee this dreadful apparition, the shepherds froze in their tracks at the sight of one last star shin­ing in the night sky illuminating their village; and then they heard, drifting on the night wind from somewhere in the village, the sound of a newborn baby… laughing.

The angels watched anxiously as this vulnerable infant grew to be a man; for some thirty-three years they waited; watching with baited breath the life of– oh, for God’s sake!  A Galilean peasant! Jesus of Nazareth. How could such a bumpkin command a hearing, how could this peasant Jesus convince anyone of the profundity of God’s love? So they waited and they watched, with little hope that the light of God become human would long shine. And their despair deepened.

The angels watched and waited, and as the Passover began in his thirty-third year, God was praised as a liberator, while the one who frees was taken into custody, swiftly tried, driven like a beast to the place of a skull, and nailed to a tree. And the heavens wept.

Unable to contain their grief, rank upon rank of angels descended through the clouds to hover above the cross, their tears washing the blood from the limp, lifeless body of Jesus.  The light has gone out, one angel said.  God gave everything there is to give, but nothing could withstand such brutality… darkness has overcome the Light.  So the angels wept - lost in darkness - the day God died.

I’ve had it with war—no more chariots in Ephraim, no more war horses in Jerusalem, no more swords and spears, bows and arrows. He will offer peace to the nations, a peaceful rule worldwide, from the four winds to the seven seas.
                                      - Zachariah 9.10 (The Message)


READING:
When they had come near Jerusalem and had reached Bethphage, at the Mount of Olives, Jesus sent two disciples, saying to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately you will find a donkey tied, and a colt with her; untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, just say this, ‘The Lord needs them.’ And he will send them immediately.” This took place to fulfill what had been spoken through the prophet, saying, “Tell the daughter of Zion, Look, your king is coming to you, humble, and mounted on a donkey, and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

The disciples went and did as Jesus had directed them; they brought the donkey and the colt, and put their cloaks on them, and he sat on them. A very large crowd spread their cloaks on the road, and others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of him and that followed were shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?” The crowds were saying, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”
                                    - Matthew 21.1-11 (NRSV)    


REFLECTION:
When I was a child in the Deep South, I had no inkling of the passion of Jesus in any real sense. The southern-fried religion that reared me always jumped plum over the passion of Holy Friday and the execution of Jesus; straight from the glory of the Triumphal Entry to the Glory of the Resurrection; there was no conflict, vulnerability, suffering, and execution in between to raise disquieting questions and challenge the theology of triumphalism. With the Resurrection of Jesus, according to triumphalism, the Roman Empire was replaced by another; the Christian Empire. It’s Lord and Master would someday consummate this dominance on the battlefield of Armageddon and the violent destruction of God’s enemies. In fact, the only vague trace of passion was referenced in the abstract notion of Jesus’ blood shed for our sin.

This interpretation replaces passion with triumphalism, and in so doing obliterates the intimate connection between Holy Week and the ministry of Jesus. This connection is important, because the meaning of Holy Week becomes visible only when interpreted through the ministry that preceded it, and in a real sense caused it. You see, Jesus had two passions, and they shed light on each other. The first passion of Jesus – the one that inspired his vision and drove his every action – was the Reign of God (sometimes called the Kingdom of God); not an empire to replace Rome, but an alternative vision to challenge the very notion of empire.

Empire – in Jesus’ day represented by Rome - is based on dominating power, repression, violence, and exploitation, especially against the peasant class whose cause Jesus championed; while Jesus’ vision is based on liberating humility, recognition of the worth of all, and fairness toward all. Empire? Not so much; say rather anti-empire. It was this first passion that inevitably led Jesus into conflict with Rome, and brought its swift retribution of Jesus’ second passion: humiliation, scourging, and crucifixion.

On Sunday we will examine the Triumphal Entry of Jesus into Jerusalem in the light of its connection to his entire life and ministry, and his challenge to the notion of empire. It very well could be an eye-opening experience. I hope you will join us.

I rise to taste the dawn, and find that love alone will shine today.                                                                      
              - Ken Wilber






READING:
This is how much God loved the world: He gave his one and only Son.  And this is why: so that no one need be destroyed; by believing in him, anyone can have a whole and lasting life.  God didn’t go to all the trouble of sending his Son merely to point an accusing finger, telling the world how bad it was.  He came to help, to put the world right again.  Anyone who trusts in him is acquitted; anyone who refuses to trust him has long since been under the death sentence without knowing it.  And why?  Because that person’s failure to believe in the one-of-a-kind Son of God when introduced to him.

This is the crisis that we’re in: God-light streamed into the world, but men and women everywhere ran for the darkness.  They went for the darkness because they were not really interested in pleasing God.  Everyone who makes a practice of doing evil, addicted to denial and illusion, hates God-light and won’t come near it, fearing a painful exposure.  But anyone working and living in truth and reality welcomes God-light so the work can be seen for the God-work it is.
                                      - John 3.16-21 (The Message)


REFLECTION:
We of the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) …whoa Nellie! This title requires some explanation. It would be easy to read this title as a claim to be the only true disciples, but that would be a mistake. We firmly believe that we are not the only Christians, but Christians only, serving humbly beside Christians of any other stripe or color.

Anyway, we Disciples recently lost a saint – a truly awesome man! – Fred Craddock, who both inspired and humbled us all. He inspired us with some of the best preaching around; and he humbled us with his commitment to serve “The least of these” in practical, hands-on ways. How he managed to write as prolifically as he did and still find time to serve others remains a mystery God alone can penetrate.

Dr. Craddock begins his commentary on John 3.16 with the caution that it is easy to trivialize this verse. Boy! He could say that again. Most of us know this verse in some form, and most of us trivialize it by reading our meanings into the text. We typically think of God as loving… unless you cross him (sic); in which case God can be a harsh judge. And we trivialize it by thinking of the salvation of the Christ as a pie-in-the-sky reward in the distant future for confessing that we believe this statement about Jesus.

We do this, however, at the expense of its context in John’s theology, losing any chance of recognizing the profundity, subtlety, and radically challenging content of this verse. We need to step back and tease out John’s thought on the nature of the God who loves the world, and what he means by salvation.

I invite you to try this in preparation for Sunday’s worship. Reflect on your notion of the God who loves. Is that all God does? What is this God like? And what is this love John speaks about? Is it sentimental and weak, or profound and powerful? And try to summarize what you think of as salvation. Then on Sunday we will examine this verse, and the passage in which it is nestled, with a view to discard any trivializing tendencies, and catch a glimpse of something both inspiring and challenging that can be embraced by all, including those who think long, hard, and reasonably about spiritual things… and expect preacher types to do the same. Join us, won’t you? 

Suddenly they saw him the way he was, the way he really was all the time, although they had never seen it before, the glory which blinds the everyday eye and so becomes invisible. This is how he was, radiant, brilliant, carrying joy like a flaming sun in this hands… and there on that mountain they saw him, really saw him, saw his light.                         
          - Madeleine L’Engle

READING:
“This isn’t pie in the sky by and by. Some of you who are standing here are going to see it happen, see the kingdom of God arrive in full force.” Six days later, three of them did see it. Jesus took Peter, James, and John and led them up a high mountain. His appearance changed from the inside out, right before their eyes. His clothes shimmered, glistening white, whiter than any bleach could make them. Elijah, along with Moses, came into view, in deep conversation with Jesus. Peter interrupted, “Rabbi, this is a great moment! Let’s build three memorials—one for you, one for Moses, one for Elijah.” He blurted this out without thinking, stunned as they all were by what they were seeing. Just then a light-radiant cloud enveloped them, and from deep in the cloud, a voice: “This is my Son, marked by my love. Listen to him.”  The next minute the disciples were looking around, rubbing their eyes, seeing nothing but Jesus, only Jesus. Coming down the mountain, Jesus swore them to secrecy. “Don’t tell a soul what you saw. After the Son of Man rises from the dead, you’re free to talk.”
                                         - Mark 9.1b-9 (The Message)

REFLECTION:
Those lucky disciples: Peter, James, and John! Jesus invited them to a high and lonely mountain, and there they saw him, really saw him, for the first time. They were offered something precious; a vision, a glimpse of Jesus as he truly is. But it didn’t last. Even before they descended the mountain the vision faded, and they found themselves rubbing their eyes, seeing nothing but Jesus; no shimmering, no glistening white, just Jesus, a peasant artisan turned teacher with whom they had traveled many dusty roads. There was really no reason for Jesus to swear them to secrecy. By the time they reached the valley his glory, as L’Engle expresses it, had become invisible.

This scene as it unfolds begs the question; what good was the vision? Why bother if it didn’t abide, transforming their lives as they saw it again and again in the following days. The real Jesus had finally shown up, only to disappear again. A vision on a mountain is one thing, but a vision in the valley – smack dab in the middle of daily life – now that would be something! That would change things.

Perhaps the vision was available in the valley, not obscured by the dust they kicked up on their journey. Perhaps there was shimmering and glistening if only they had the eyes to see. Shimmer in the eyes of the one grateful leper who returned to thank Jesus; or a glistening aura emanating from a scene in which Jesus, or even one of the disciples, reached out in compassion to one in need.

This is an important “perhaps” for our faith, because we don’t have the slightest chance of climbing the mountain and seeing the Christ revealed in glory. But perhaps we can “Take the mountain to Muhammad,” as the expression goes. Perhaps we can see the Christ in our everyday experience, if only we have the eyes to see. What would be the circumstances in which we caught a glimpse of the Christ and were ourselves transformed? What type of experience might afford us such a vision of glory? We will consider such questions on Sunday. We hope to see you then.