Easter

Easter Morning Meditation

Shalom Mennonite Church

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Text: John 20:1-18

“testimony”

The resurrection of Jesus -

this death-bending, life-altering moment -

happens in relative obscurity.

It unfolds in the twilight hours before sunrise,

out beyond the city.

It happens away from the crowds

who had gathered just a few days earlier

to welcome Jesus into Jerusalem with

joyful expectation,

and who later denounced him with

bitter condemnation.

There is no fanfare,

there are no angel choirs,

or miraculous stars shining overhead,

or visitors from the East bearing gifts.

There is simply this rising of new life

from the tomb of death.

Its witnesses are, at first, very few.

In fact, it is only one person

who first encounters the risen Christ:

Mary Magdalene.

According to John’s gospel

Mary is the first one commissioned by Christ

to go and give testimony to his rising.

And what we have of Mary’s testimony

are these words:

I have seen the Lord.

The first thing I notice is the simplicity

and the directness of the message.

I have seen the Lord.

Now we have libraries full of books

proposing theories and meanings,

explanations and refutations,

for the resurrection of Jesus.

Mary offered her testimony before

any of these words were written.

I have seen the Lord.

Now we have complex theologies

that lay things out like well-balanced arithmetic:

“Christ needed to die

and then be raised so that . . .”

A+B=C

For Mary there was no such logic

or rationale for this upheaving moment.

She could only bear witness by saying:

I have seen the Lord.

Her testimony is not figurative or metaphorical.

She is not saying:

“As I stood at the tomb

I really felt Jesus’ presence there

and it seemed like he was calling

to me in my heart.”

Or,

“I met the gardener at the tombs and he had this

really gentle way about him;

he reminded me a lot of our teacher.”

The proclamation of Mary and the gospel story is, literally:

The Lord is risen and I have seen him!

Her bold testimony stands in contrast to

Peter’s earlier denials and the other disciples

who are hiding out in the upper room “for fear of the Jews.”

What we learn from Mary Magdalene is that

to witness the resurrection is to be compelled to speak,

simply and boldly.

The Good News must be shared.

This is the first thing I notice in Mary’s testimony.

The second thing I notice about Mary’s testimony

is the way it unfolds through the channels of relationship.

At the tomb, it is when Jesus speaks her name

that Mary recognizes him for who he is.

Their friendship is the channel for the revelation.

And perhaps recognizing her desire

to reclaim the intimacy of the earthly relationship

they shared before his death,

Jesus says to Mary:

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.’

Jesus’ words affirm the bond

that he shares with her and the other disciples

in the Love of God.

There are echoes here of the prayer

Jesus offered in the garden before his death:

All mine are yours and yours are mine; and I have been glorified in them. And now I am no longer in the world, but they are in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect them in your name that you have given me, so that they may be one, as we are one . . . as you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us . . . I in them and you in me, so that they may be completely one. (John 17:10-11,21, 23)

At the tomb, this oneness we share with Jesus in God

is fully disclosed to Mary Magdalene.

She becomes a part of it.

And because the very nature of this oneness is love,

she is compelled to go and share it with her friends.

Mary becomes a model for us

as to what it means to witness and testify

to the risen Christ.

And it means much more than retelling a story once a year.

There was a time when I wondered what it would have been like

to be among those first disciples, to be there at the empty tomb,

or to be in the upper room,

when the risen one appeared.

There have been other moments in life

when I have doubted whether these events

really occurred at all.

From certain points of view,

there is little in this world

to confirm for our limited minds

that resurrection ever happened - or ever will.

There have been times when I have found

all of the speculations and theories

about Christ’s resurrection that have been written

by learned women and men over the centuries

quite fascinating and inspiring.

And there have been times I have found them

overwhelming and distracting -

always one step removed from the reality

of which they struggle to speak.

Now, in this stage of my journey, I must testify

that when it comes to the resurrection of Christ,

I am inclined to follow the example of Mary Magdalene,

more than that of any jaded skeptic,

or any learned theologian

or any well-formulated confession of faith.

Because some days I find myself weeping at the tomb,

witnessing the pain of this world,

seeing the brokenness of the church,

feeling the falsehoods in my own being,

and, like Mary, I wonder where the body of Christ has been laid.

Then there are those moments

when I hear my own true name being spoken -

sometimes from a deep-within place,

sometimes from the mouth of a loved one,

occasionally by a stranger,

and once in a startling while by one

whom I thought to be an adversary.

And to hear your true name called is a gift.

I, too, have often mistaken other people

standing right beside me

to be just that, “other people” -

just gardeners standing there - ordinary and unremarkable.

Then something lifts a veil that has blinded me

and I see that this is no ordinary person,

that Christ dwells there and rises there, too.

And I read and listen to the scripture of the Earth,

with its symphonic cycle of

birthing-living-dying-rising

and I understand what the psalmist meant

when he said:

“I believe I shall see the goodness

of the Lord in the land of the living.”

And standing here this morning,

as so often happens when we gather here,

I feel wonder and gratitude

for the body we become,

the way we are made one,

by him who rises in us.

And I am compelled to testify:

I have seen the Lord!

I see the Lord!

Christ is risen!

Christ is rising

right here

right now.

AMEN

How far will love go?

How far will Love go?

Not love as warm sentimentality, or the fleeting spark of romance, or even the enduring bond shared by friends, family or kindred spirits, but the Love that calls our name at birth, the Love that will one day summon us across the threshold of death, and the Love that calls to us now in this moment and all living moments no matter how great or terrible. The Love that is of God. The Love that is God.

How far will Love go?

Will love be present when times are tough and when there is little to confirm that its efforts will be successful or effective?

In Christ, God proclaims "Yes." Love will not fade in the difficult moments, in our experiences of deepest wounding and loss, and it can even redeem them in the end.

Will Love still be there even when people are indifferent to it, even when we deny its power?

In Christ, God proclaims "Yes." Love will not falter when we ignore it or seek other solutions that fall short in the end. It will keep calling to us in mercy.

Will Love endure even when the powers of evil are gathered against it? Even when it must face the harshest violence, the most bitter betrayal, and the deepest loneliness?

In Christ, God proclaims "Yes." Love will endure in all of this. Even here it will speak words of forgiveness and shine with a light of hope.

This night is the night when we are asked to remember and rejoin our lives to the great open-hearted "Yes" of God. The cross marks a great and unsettling disclosure of just how far the Love of God will go. And as we will celebrate in the days to come, Love will go further than this.

For now, however, we dwell in this night, we kneel at the cross with Mary, we remember the sorrow and fear of his friends, and we proclaim that here - even here - God says "Yes."

May the Love of God,

the open heart of Jesus,

and the breath of the Holy Spirit,

call to each of us this night.

And may we respond

with our own "Yes" to Love.

AMEN

Maundy Thursday reflection

In the gospel of John, when the story is told about the last night Jesus spent with his disciples, there is one very small verse that follows the account of Jesus washing the disciples feet. It reads:

One of his disciples—the one whom Jesus loved—was reclining next to him. (John 13:23)

Though this “beloved disciple” is mentioned more than once in the gospel, he is never identified by name. Tradition has held that it was John the Evangelist, the one who writes this gospel story. And tradition has also held that because he reclined next to Jesus at that last supper, he rested his head on his teacher's breast and he heard the very heartbeat of God.

The call of this night, this time of remembrance and our own breaking of the bread, sharing of the cup, and kneeling before one another as we wash feet, is to listen ourselves for the heartbeat of God. It can be heard, moment to moment, if we choose to listen for it in love.

Jesus asked his friends to keep breaking bread together and keep washing feet in remembrance of him not so that they could try to preserve that last night together, but so that they might continue to listen for the beating heart of God's love in and through their lives.

May we hear this beating heart of God as the story of this week unfolds and, even more, as we listen our way into our lives.

all hail

Shalom Mennonite Church

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Lent 6 – Becoming Human: Shaped by Worship

Gospel text: Matthew 21:1-11

Eric Massanari

“all hail”

. . . at the name of Jesus

every knee should bend,

in heaven and on earth

and under the earth,

and every tongue should confess

that Jesus Christ is Lord

to the glory of God

who is our Father/who is our Mother.

When I hear those words

from the Christ hymn of Philippians,

especially alongside the story of Jesus'

final procession into the city of Jerusalem,

I think of a hymn we often

sang in my childhood church,

“All hail the power of Jesus' name.”

[sing WB#106, v.1]

The hymn has the tone of a march,

and this particular musical setting

bears the name CORONATION—

the ritual act of placing

a crown on the head of someone

who has ascended to the highest office,

such as the throne of a king or queen.

This hymn also appears in our hymnal

with another musical setting (see WB#285).

This is the one I recall singing most often

in my home church, with the women's and men's

voices breaking off in different directions

in the third and fourth stanzas.

This, too, has a march-like quality to it,

suggesting a royal parade or procession.

The name of this musical setting is DIADEM,

which means a crown or royal headband.

All hail the power of Jesus' name!

To hail in this sense means to venerate,

to reverence, to salute someone

who has ascended to a position

of esteem, power and authority.

In Jesus' time it was used as an address

to honor the Emperor: “Hail, Caesar!”

In mid-20^th century Germany it

was the address and salute of Nazi's

when they greated one another: “Heil, Hitler!”

In our own nation it is the piece

of music played when our president

is about to make a formal address:

“Hail to the Chief.”

Or, if one is in England,

“Hail, all hail the queen.”

It is the formal way to address

rulers and royalty.

I noticed that on the cover of Newsweek magazine

this week there is a close-up photo

of the face of Catherine Elizabeth Middleton,

who will soon marry William Arthur Philip Louis Windsor,

the son of Prince Charles and Diana,

the grandson of the Queen of England.

The cover of the magazine read:

Kate the Great: In a world gone to hell—thank God, a wedding

Thank God!

Something elegant, something extravagant,

and exquisite to lift us all above the fray

and take our minds off the mess

that the world seems to be in right now.

What a relief! A royal wedding!

Royalty seems to have that effect on us.

There is something about it

that seems other-than, apart-from,

and in some way immune to the

blood, sweat and tears so many live by.

Royalty represents the possibility of a great escape.

So, what kind of king is Jesus?

So, what does it mean to hail him?

And why would we bend at the knee,

literally or figuratively,

or shout a loud hail or hosanna,

merely at the mention of his name?

When he enters the royal city

of his ancestors he seems a very strange king!

Instead of the rich and famous and powerful

placing him on a throne of glory,

he is welcomed to the city by the ordinary folk,

who put their tunics on the ground in honor of him.

Instead of a war horse, he sits on a donkey.

Instead of regal clothing or a crown,

he winds up naked and with thorns on his head.

Rather than ascend, he seems to descend.

Rather than seize power, he appears to abdicate it,

Jesus, as king, may have a great lineage,

but his path is the inverse of his ancestor David.

There is no great escape here,

no lifting the people above the fray

and the pain of life—Jesus moves directly into it.

As he enters the city, the people cry,

“Hosanna to the Son of David!

Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!

Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

Perhaps the sentiments of the moment

are something akin to that Newsweek cover;

“Here comes royalty!

Here comes someone

who will lift us above this mess.

A king, a ruler, a prophet

with the power to save.”

We might remember what happens

immediately after Jesus enters the

city according to Matthew;

amidst all of the accolades

he heads directly to the temple mount,

enters the temple,

and proceeds to literally turn the tables

on the moneychangers and shopkeepers

who have set up their businesses there.

It is not relief Jesus is bringing

to the royal city of David.

As it has always been throughout

his preaching, teaching, healing work,

it is revelation and remembrance

of something that has been forgotten and lost.

“Remember whose house this temple is!

Remember the purpose for which it was made.

Remember whose you are!

Remember the purpose for which you were made.”

For some, such truth-telling and remembrance

brings relief, while for others is elicits fear

and resentment and violent reaction.

If the people are wanting to elevate Jesus

above their own circumstances and troubles,

Jesus will have nothing to do with it.

If they are wanting a ruler who will

sit in majesty above the fray

and handle things from a safe distance,

he refuses such a role.

However, in the story world of Matthew,

this has yet to be fully revealed to them.

They have yet to see where this royal road

covered in tunics and leafy branches ultimately leads.

Matthew knows.

So does Paul when he describes Jesus as the one

who, though he was in the form of God,

did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited,

but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave,

being born in human likeness.

And being found in human form,

he humbled himself

and became obedient to the point of death—

even death on a cross.

This, according to the Apostle Paul,

is the reason for “hailing” or bowing to Christ.

And what's more,

Paul begins this statement by saying:

Let this very same mind of Christ,

be your mind.

We honor Christ not because he embodies an exclusive truth, a truth that pertains only to him. We bow to Christ because he reveals the most inclusive of truths, the truth we have forgotten or lost sight of within us and between us as an earth community, that the very elements of our being and the whole universe come directly from God's being.

- from J. Philip Newell, Christ of the Celts: The Healing of Creation

We reverence Christ,

because of the way

he causes us to remember

the truth of who we are

and the holy temple that the world is.

What the church today needs

(and what the world needs from the church)

is not a higher and more distant view of Christ,

but a much more grounded, earthy vision of Christ,

the one who helps us remember the truth of who we are:

That we are made of God and for God;

that our mind can be the mind of Christ.

This world – from palm branches,

to the earth beneath our feet,

to the air that fills each breath,

is made of God

and for God.

And from the beginning

God has called this “good.”

All hail Christ,

who recalls in us

that goodness,

and calls out of us

the transforming love

that is the very heart

of the one whom we hail and follow. AMEN