On the Way to Wonder

“First thing in the morning…” Yesterday we saw our cast of characters travel from the High Priest’s house to Pilate’s palace, from the center of religious power to the center of civil power.  They stand before Roman authority and their grump now is translated into language Rome will understand and that they hope will trigger a death verdict.  Blasphemy is not a social crime.  Many people swear and it is rather like water rolling off a duck’s back today.  At the High Priest’s house the question was, “Are you the Christ?” but has now been translated into an accusation that Jesus claims to be King (Mark 15:2).  Jesus is being accused of being a political threat.  The change of wording escalates the crime to trial.

         Somehow this scene is feeling very familiar to USA today.  A demonstration is labeled “insurrection.”  Our courts, investigators and journalists are trying to get to the “truth.”  A couple of the criteria are the action of the leader at the time and the language used leading up to the event.  Jesus was certainly talking about a kingdom but how does he act?  Jesus does not seem to be acting like a political threat.  Pilate asks point blank, “Are you the King of the Jews?”  Jesus, who answered the High Priest’s question directly, deflects back to Pilate, “You have said so.”  Pilate is saying those words, not him, and yet he does not deny either.

         Accused.  Do you remember that childhood song, “Who has their hand in the cookie jar?”  “Not I.  Couldn’t be. Susie had her hand in the cookie jar.”  I think we call this truth with a small “t” and truth with a large “T.”  Jesus as True-God is King of the Jews, Truth, but as True-Man is not setting up a political kingdom.  How do we respond under accusation?  Do we come out swinging and fighting or are we able to stay calm and wait for the Truth to come out?  Being misunderstood and misrepresented hurts.  Jesus does not debate, defend, or try to engage Pilate at all.  Jesus’ behavior of silence speaks louder than any long-winded explanation.  Pilate sees the envy driving the mob.  So perhaps our prayer today is for integrity and consistency of actions. May we stay calm when misrepresented and misunderstood. May our words and our deeds speak to the Truth of who we are and to the Truth of who God is in our lives! 

“Houston, we have a problem,” is a famous quote from the movie “Apollo 13” when the astronauts realize something is not right and they are radioing earth for “the new plan.”  Our family uses it whenever we want to signal that we need to recalibrate, At the High Priest’s house, the scene of the religious trial of Jesus, Jesus appears to commit blasphemy by claiming to be I AM, God.  On the wilderness journey, people were killed for less.  One person was caught collecting wood on Sabbath.  Disrespectful children were dealt with severely.  Claiming to be God was way over the top in terms of offenses.  But the religious authorities are not in the wilderness but are in Jerusalem so now must involve civil authorities to get a death sentence.  I think we call it “situational ethics,” I modify how I behave to conform to the norms of the crowd.  Mark 15:1 says, “As soon as it was morning, the chief priests with the elders and scribes and the whole council held a consultation, and they bound Jesus and led him away and delivered him to Pilate.” Pilate is Roman authority and has the power to condemn Jesus to death.

         We know that from the beginning the religious authorities wanted to kill Jesus, but what about the crowd?  What about you and me?  We know this scenario!  It is our story.  People, gather at the capitol to demonstrate, are swept into a crowd, become a mob, and are charged with “insurrection.”  A demonstration turns violent and looting results.  That was not the intent of most but things got out of hand – perhaps.  Perhaps we would like to think we are not one of “those” but we see crowds at sports games that disagree with calls, yelling to “kill the ump!”  Swearing by the name of our God has become so common we do not even notice it on TV or at the store.  Hopefully we do not participate – just silence.  The slide from moral convictions we talk about on Sunday to social behavior on Monday, when income tax is due, is a slide we know.  Our lives are spent between Jerusalem and Rome, between beliefs and behavior. 

         Lent confronts me.  Where would I have been on that Good Friday morning?  Asleep in bed?  Following the crowd?  Hiding in fear?  Lost in grief and confusion?  May the passage of time not numb us to our very real tendency to compromise our beliefs and be silent in the public areas of our life.  We may hang our head and recognize ourselves but we are not people without hope.  Jesus is walking the walk and talking the talk that saves sinners like us.  He is not afraid and he cares for us, even when we are broken.  Thank you, Lord!

Mark 14:66-72.  We are halfway through the Lenten journey and we arrive at the story of a man torn in half.  Peter, the outspoken disciple who seems to often have his foot in his mouth, who faithfully promises that he will follow Jesus even to death, who rashly cuts off the ear of the man in the mob, has now followed Jesus to the High Priest’s house.  He sits by the fire listening, close but quiet.  A maid recognizes him as a disciple and he denies.  Interestingly, he does not flee.  He moves into the shadows by the gate.  He wants to be brave but he is moving further from the light.  His love for Jesus and his fear battle within him.  Yet even there a bystander recognizes him as Galilean, perhaps by his clothes or accent.  Again Peter denies, even invoking a curse on himself.  Love has drawn him so very close and fear has driven him to denial.  He is a man torn in half.

         The cock crows the second time.  In the midst of his trauma, Peter remembers.  Remembers what?  Jesus predicted this would happen.  Jesus knew he was weak and would be praying for him.  In the midst of trauma sometimes the right Bible verse comes to mind.  Or perhaps the phone rings and a friend calls.  Maybe the perfect song comes on the radio or iPod that gives the words we need to hear.  We remember that God knows we are but dust and we remember that we are not alone in our trial.  Awareness of our imperfection somehow humbles us as we remember that God knows and cares.

         Secondly Peter breaks down and weeps.  Having a good cry as we face our failures and acknowledge our limitations is sometimes the best thing we can do.  Crying, even for men, is therapeutic.  Lent reminds us who we are and whose we are.  We are sinners prone to wander.  Our lives are in God’s hands, not God is in our hands.  We come precariously close to thinking we can control God with prayer but Lent reminds us that God is in control.  He knows and loves us still.  Even as Peter has denied knowing Jesus, Jesus has not left Peter.  God does not leave us when we sin but patiently waits for us to humble ourselves and turn to him.  In our confusion, he remembers us and holds us.  Turn to him.  Thank you, Lord.

Mark 14:65.   Guilty.  Blasphemy.  Jesus when asked if he is the Messiah answered, “I AM.”  And here is the confrontation that is the core issue that elicits faith or ridicule.  “Some began to spit on him and to cover his face and to strike him, saying, ‘Prophesy!’ And the guards received him with blows.”  Unimaginable.  Some spat on him.  Jesus had used spit to create eyes for the blind man but these unbelievers use spit to ridicule.

         Spit, what are some of the idioms of spit.  We say, “Spit it out,” when we are encouraging someone to say something that is hard for them to divulge.  We say, “He is the spitting image of his father,” as if the child spewed forth into life looking just like the parent.  “Spit and polish” implies a thorough cleaning and shining as with soldiers.  Tevya in fiddler on the roof used the idiom, “if you spit into the wind, it will hit you in the face,” meaning to be doing something futile.  “I spit on your grave,” is a statement of total distain.  Some spit on Jesus and yelled at him to prophesy.  They ridiculed that man who had been healing them.  How fickle we are, even today.

         A popular song a couple years back that resulted in a movie was “I Can Only Imagine.”  The writer sees his alcoholic father transformed by belief in Jesus, the I AM.  Son and father are reunited as the father is dying of cancer.  The son then writes the song imagining his father’s response when meeting Jesus in death.  “Will I fall on my knees?  Will I yell hallelujah?  Will I be able to talk at all?  I can only imagine.”  How do we respond to Jesus’ claim to be God?

         Our society is so polarized now that we have become a bit numb to the humiliation and dehumanization we do to people we disagree with.  Our demonstrations, turned riots and looting, turned to murder are a national scandal. It is so easy to dehumanize those we disagree with.  The Lenten story presents the ugliness of this process of hate and calls us to look into our hearts as we interact and respond to those with whom we do not agree.  This brief scene presents two options.  Jesus does not retaliate.  Some spit.  May we have the courage to follow the Jesus example.

Yesterday we looked at the arrival of Jesus in the middle of the night at the High Priest’s home for the trial.  Witnesses could not get their stories to agree. Misinformation about Jesus led to confusion.  So many times in Jesus’ ministry after a healing, after something spectacular Jesus told the person to be quiet.  Why did he tell the healed person to be quiet, I’ve wondered.  Perhaps it is because he realized the tendency of people to repeat stories but to exaggerate to impress or malign.  Remember the childhood game of sitting in a circle and the first person whispers something simple in the ear of the person next who whispers to, who whispers to…until the end of the circle and the first and last person say what they heard.  Most often there is no similarity.  Time distorts memories as we exaggerate wrongs and exaggerate successes.  Some points stand out and other points dim.  The witnesses cannot agree.

         The high priest in exasperation turns to Jesus and asks him point blank, “Are you the Christ, the son of the most Blessed?”  Jesus answers point blank, “I AM.”  No more idioms like “I am the Good Shepherd.”  No more questions reflected back, “Who do you say that I am?”  No more parables, the Prodigal Son.  Jesus standing nose to nose with the High Priest and claims his identity, I AM, the Messiah. “You will see the son of man seated at the right hand of Power and coming with the clouds of heaven.”  The High Priest tears his robes and cries, “blasphemy,” understanding fully Jesus’ claim to be God.

         If confronted by authority today, who would I say that I am?  The Lenten journey challenges us to examine which character in the story we identify with – possibly none would say they are God but might admit to being “a child of God.”  Others might feel more like one of the witnesses who hears but does not fully understand the Christian message.  Some of us are sitting with the guards, afraid to peep up and let our identity be known for fear of rejection.  Hopefully none of us are indifferent bystanders like the servants.  At this crisis moment Jesus claims his identity as Messiah – not just a miracle worker, not just a healer, not just a great teacher giving good sermons, but Messiah, the one who will die for sin.  Lord, help us to be clear about who we are and whose we are – in your eyes.  May we never forget who you are, the Messiah.

Scene three, now we have reached the High Priest’s house in the middle of the night, a quorum of priests are present, witnesses, guards (and Peter and possibly Judas) plus others.  I can hear Sargent Friday saying, “I want the facts, nothing but the facts!” but witnesses could not agree.  Mark 14:57 shares, “Some stood up and bore false witness against him, saying, ‘We heard him say, ‘I will destroy this temple that is made with hands, and in three days I will build another, not made with hands.’”  Did you catch the edit job?  Yesterday we heard in our Gospel text Jesus say, “Destroy this temple and I will raise it again in three days. (John 2:19)” The witnesses have changed Jesus’ words just slightly and inadvertently spoken a truth.  Jesus did not say he would raise another temple not made with hands, but indeed that is what happened, as we in retrospect understand that we now talk about our bodies being the temple of God and the church universal as representing God.  It reminds me of Satan and Eve in the Garden of Eden.  Did God say don’t eat?  Eve answers yes but adds, “for the day you eat of the tree you will die.”  How easy it is to modify, amplify, exaggerate truth a little and create a better, more entertaining story, or give the impression to the facts that shifts the story the way you understand.  We have created the word “misinformation” that seems to imply a person is telling a slanted version of truth to their own advantage and that version does not agree with the commentators version of truth.

         Jesus was not talking about the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem but predicting his own death.  Jesus was talking about rising from the dead in three days.  The true meaning was not understood.  The High Priest then asks, “Are you the Christ?” and Jesus answers, “I AM.”  Jesus is the way, the truth and the life.  He does not lie or misinform.  As we journey with Jesus to the cross this Lent, let us reflect on our tendency to “misinform” or present reality to our advantage.  God’s word is “a lamp to my feet and a light for my path. (Psalm 119:105)” It will always lead us in the right direction as we wait on God in prayer and double check with others.  May we grow in our ability to speak the truth in love and be a reliable witness. Lord, help me guard my tongue today and be an honest witness.

We end week two of Lent and the report of the Garden of Gethsemane concludes, not with all the talk of loyalty by the disciples but with the picture of a young man who was with the disciples fleeing naked when he is grabbed by the mob.  He leaves his linen cloth in their hands and flees this world become chaos, as naked as the day he was born!  Mark 14:50-52.

         A nameless woman has anointed Jesus for his death.  A nameless innkeeper has shared his upper room in preparation for the Passover, the death of the Paschal lamb.  Judas Iscariot, a named friend, has betrayed Jesus – with a kiss.  And Peter who loudly proclaimed loyalty is balancing on the edge of denial.  But this nameless young man with only his clothes to cover him, leaves even that when put to the test.  He has not even a name to identify him, just his bare behind.  We do indeed have a sad cast of characters.

         This reminds me of a hymn made famous by Christian spiritual crusades, “Just As I Am.”  People rather than fleeing naked in the awareness of their sins, sing this hymn as they go forward.  It was written by Charlotte Elliot in 1836.  Her brother was planning a charity bazaar to raise money to send daughters of clergymen for higher education.  The night before the bazar Charlotte had a rough night plagued by her own uselessness.  The next day she took pen and ink to write down in verse the realities of her faith, “the formulae of her faith.”  She was “naming and claiming” the naked truth of the Gospel.  She focused on the Lord, His power and His promises, not her weakness.  She focused on a Gospel that promised pardon, peace, and heaven.  Just as I am…I come to thee.

Betrayal comes in many forms.  Merriam-Webster defines betrayal as the “violation of a person’s trust or confidence, of a moral standard.”  The word betrayal is a word we are throwing around in the public arena these days as we discuss expectations based on vows, promises, and resulting consequences arising from actions of leadership.  The anger and hurt generated is not unlike when a man tells a woman he loves her as often, whether spoken or notm is the question of commitment to relationship and expectations hidden in the heart.  When we buy an expensive item, often it comes with a warranty because there is an expectation of quality and failure brings a sense of betrayal.  Deep guilt and hurt may follow anytime word are not followed by actions consistent with our expectations.

         Judas Iscariot, one of the twelve disciples, one of the “friends” of Jesus, has agreed to point out Jesus to the mob that follow him to the Garden – by kissing Jesus. (Mark 14: 43-49)  An act of intimacy becomes an act of betrayal.  So painful! Later Peter will betray Jesus because of fear, denying he knows Jesus.  One is a deliberate deception and the other is cowardly deception.  Both result in the break of relationship and guilt for the person.  Trust is broken.  Moral expectations are violated.  Failure.

         Most of us would deny a plotted betrayal of a relationship.  But perhaps we cringe remembering the “Mom, you’re late…again!” comment of our children when we were late for the agreed upon time for meeting.  We might remember having to put off paying a bill because funds were short – next month we will fulfill our promise to pay.  Of course there is that tidbit of gossip we just could not resist sharing. In many ways we often fall short of the moral standards we set for ourselves and hurt someone we care about.  We side with the “mob” and not with the friend.  We want to be a person of integrity and a faithful friend but…

         Perhaps our devotional today is not very cozy emotionally as our conscience is pricked remembering ours and other’s failures in our life.  If something comes to mind, now is a good time to confess and seek forgiveness.  Because we fail our expectations does not necessarily mean we will always fail nor that we are a failure.  But failure, here in the form of betrayal, does call us to repentance and renewal to become our better selves with Christ’s help. Lord, may we be faithful in our relationships with your help, always seeking the good of the other.  Amen.

Let’s look closer.  Mark 14:35-36 takes us to not just another Jesus prayer but gives us a glimpse at a holistic praying of the Lord’s Prayer, suggests Walter Wangerin Jr in his book Reliving the Passion.  That caught my interest.  At age six or seven I knelt beside my mother’s bed and she taught us the Lord’s Prayer.  When my children were six, I started teaching them by leaving out a word here and there and they would fill in more and more blank spaces.  At church we pray the Lord’s Prayer every Sunday.  In the Garden, Wangerin suggests, we see Jesus not just praying the Lord’s Prayer but also living into the prayer.  His body, emotions, desires, and actions embody and express the prayer he taught us.

         “And going a little farther, he fell on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him.  And he said, “Abba,  Father, all things are possible to thee, remove this cup from me, yet not what I will but what thou wilt.”

In his hour of need, Jesus did not formally approach God with “Our Father who art in heave,” but I would imagine cried, perhaps moaned, may have even yelled, “Abba, Father.”  “Daddy.”  Prayer is relationship not formal ritual.  He continues, “If it is possible, may the hour pass from me,” and  “let this cup pass.”  In other words, save me from the hour of trial, deliver me from evil.  He realizes he could not go through the events without relationship with God, without support.  He cries for help.  Then, he ends his prayer with not his will, but God’s be done.  He prays that God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven.  Jesus has been preaching that the kingdom of heaven is near but now he acknowledges that it is time for God’s kingdom to come to earth in the defeat of Satan and death.  “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done.” 

         Often in times of great stress when words will not come, those prayers that we have been taught give voice to the drama and trauma of the situation we find ourselves living.  Calling to God as “Daddy” or perhaps “Beloved” if male language is hard, reminds us we are not alone.  “If it is possible,” reminds us that we have choice to obey.  We are not robots.  And praying for the coming kingdom takes us beyond ourselves to the larger picture of life.  Lent reminds us that we are in a struggle that ushers in the kingdom of heaven.

         We may feel like we are in the Garden of Gethsemane right now as we sit by the side of a sick loved one, as we deal with unemployment or struggle to supervise our children doing school at home.  It may feel like the Dark Night of the Soul but may we never forget and always remember we can call out to Abba and the Holy Spirit interprets our prayers when we have no words.  God hears and strengthens us for trials.  Thank you, Lord.

Mark 14:32-42, Jesus and disciples reach the Garden of Gethsemane and Jesus takes Peter, James and John aside to pray.  Exhausted, the disciples fall asleep but Jesus labors in prayer.  He knows what he is about to face.  Perhaps it is in the anticipation of an event when we struggle the most.  In studying transition, Dave Pollock called it “the work of worry.”  The work of worry precedes a big move.  What will happen to the dog?  By when must we sell the house?  The work of worry precedes the wedding.  We develop the invitation list, plan for outfits, order cakes and so much more.  Even worry precedes a funeral.  Will I be able to control my grief?  The work of worry is important, even for children, and helps us go from one phase in life to the next.   It often seems that once we have done the work of worry that then adrenaline kicks in and we are able to walk into the unknowns of the future.

         The disciples handle all this talk about betrayal by going to sleep.  Perhaps their conscious mind is overwhelmed and possibly the disciples are just exhausted but sleep is one way we cope with stress.  Withdrawing deep inside ourselves seems to be a way of summoning courage.  Denial is another form – it really won’t be so bad.  Jesus, on the other hand, turns to prayer.  We see him wrestling with the Father and pleading for an alternative.  Finally  the wrestle is over.  “Not my will, but thine be done,” he prays to the Father.  Submitting to “a higher authority” does not make the resulting experience beautiful but it allows trust and a certain peace to carry you through.

         I went to the doctor who said I needed to have an operation.  When I climbed in the car my husband asked and I shared.  What would bring me peace he asked.  I said I’d like it if I could get a fax from heaven, perhaps a Bible verse, and if I could talk to someone who had the operation.  The next morning he read the normal reading and asked if I got my verse.  I had.  In the reading was the passage, if a piece of your body offends you, cut it off.  Operations are ok.  That was not the intent of the verse but it spoke to my situation.  Then I went to my meeting and every person in the room had had the operation or knew someone who had and gave superlative affirmations about the value of the operation.  The women would bring meals over for my family during the recovery time!  Wow!  I was at peace.  The work of worry stopped.  Jesus took three disciples and went and prayed, wrestling with the Father.  Once he was convinced, he was ready to face the mob.

         Perhaps there is an issue you are struggling with now, something for which you need advice.  That’s ok.  Are there trusted friends?  Have you committed it to prayer?  One of the assurances of Lent is that as we face our sinfulness, our weakness and tendency to fall short, God knows and walks with us.  It is possible to find peace in the midst of trauma.  Blessings as you go to your Garden of Gethsemane today to do the work of worry with God!