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Posts Tagged ‘John’

Jesus, What Are You Doing?

Posted in Lent, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 29, 2013| Leave a Comment »

Jesus and the crossWhen he [Judas] was gone, Jesus said, “Now the Son of Man is glorified and God is glorified in him. If God is glorified in him,God will glorify the Son in himself, and will glorify him at once.
“My children, I will be with you only a little longer. You will look for me, and just as I told the Jews, so I tell you now: Where I am going, you cannot come.
“A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” [John 13:31-35]

Surely they were all thinking that, “Where are you going, Jesus, that I can’t go? Haven’t we gone everywhere with you?” Well, except for all those times he went to pray alone or that time he walked on the water or that time he brought Lazarus from the dead or the time he overturned the tables of the moneychangers?

I think the real question they asked in those times may have been more like, “What are you doing?”

Isn’t that the natural response to someone (particularly a child/teen) who is participating some activity that is outside one’s personal “norm?” Or worse, illegal? Or worse, stupid! “What are you doing!?” It’s as though we actually believe, that perpetrator will turn around, look at us, and see the light! “Oh, of course, I shouldn’t be doing this.”

But that’s not how it works. Rarely does the observer, the other person get what is going on, whether it’s using a beer pong in your parents’ basement or predicting one’s death at the hand of the authorities. Or maybe it’s even less clear, like a toddler artistically decorating the hallway walls or a dog marking the new furniture or a kid experimenting with a raw egg in the microwave.

In that moment of discovery, it’s chaos in the head. How could, why would, when did, where did, who’s idea was this anyway?

As much as Jesus tried to explain how it would all work, the understanding of the acts, the miracles, the symbols, the sacrifices, the lectures, the parables, all of it… came later. There was too much to process. They’d be contemplating that event from the morning and then something else would happen at Noon. How do you respond to a miracle? How do you respond to a man who claims blood line with God? How do you believe that the same guy who raised people from the dead would die himself? Brain freeze.

When any pair of friends or now, children of friends, tell me they are planning to get married, I have one piece of advice: really look and remember. It will pass by you like a whirlwind and the next thing you know, the ceremony is over, the reception is over, and you’re sitting in at the pool or beach and wondering what just happened. It’s hard to pay attention when it’s happening to us!

The disciples and writers of Jesus’s life did the best they could. They tried to capture what it felt like not to understand, what it meant in the moment without projecting out to the end.

Today, I want to imagine the moment, the feeling of the first time, the loss of Jesus without the expectation of third day. But I also want to cherish human contact today, the touch of a hand, the look in the eye, the corporateness of faith.

I want to love God and love others.

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Foot Touching

Posted in Lent, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on March 28, 2013| Leave a Comment »

Print by Julius Schnorr von Carolsfeld's (1794-1872)

Print by Julius Schnorr von Carolsfeld’s (1794-1872)

Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him. . . . “No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.”  Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no part with me.”  [John 13:3-5, 8]

Jesus wanted to make a lasting impression. It’s not like he hadn’t talked about service and humility and lifting up others above oneself. But like so many of the parables and stories, he decided to create a picture, not just with words, but with actions. And yet, only John shares this story. Was it so humiliating? Did they fear the story would belie their claims of Jesus as the Messiah? After all, would the Messiah wash the feet of a mere fisherman? But for John, this was a critical illustration that could not be ignored.

And yet, the symbolic sharing of bread and wine at the meal is excluded by John. Clearly, for him, the foot washing was the most significant. And before that, the anointing of Jesus’s feet by Mary is told in detail. This too is bypassed by the other storytellers, except Luke, who doesn’t even identify the woman.

The significance of leadership and the self-abasement of feet is somehow important.

I never realized how much I under-appreciated my feet until I started having pain in the big toe of my left foot. Sometimes, it was so miserable, I couldn’t walk but a few steps. Every shoe had to pass the pain test before I would leave the bedroom. I tried everything from heat to cold to massage and acupuncture. I started wearing sandals everywhere (and not flipflops because the band would cut directly across the pain spot). Pretty soon, the pain started waking me up at night. Finally, I gave in and went to the doctor. The podiatrist was a little stumped because nothing really showed up in my x-rays or cat scan. In the end, he went ahead and did a bunionectomy even though my baby bunion was not the real problem. I think he just wanted to get in there and look around. It took almost three months to recover full use of my foot again . . . and of course, within a few months, the pain was back, not as acute, but still, there.

The podiatrist was not happy to see me again and said there was nothing more he could do. He gave me a referral to a physical therapist. I delayed that appointment for weeks out of embarrassment. I mean, really, a physical therapist for my toe??? And yet, I finally had no choice. Almost a year after my surgery, I gave in and went to the therapist. He was a really nice guy and I even told him my tale of embarrassment. The prescription was primarily deep massage.

The healing came through touch.

We don’t touch each other very much in our culture. Oh, we may hug and air kiss and we might shake hands or pat someone’s back. But a genuine touch, a focused touch, a touch with intent; now that makes a difference.

I have had massages off and on throughout the years, but only once did I have a massage by a believer who prayed over me throughout the experience. It was literally, life changing.

When Jesus washed the feet of the disciples, I don’t think he poured water out of a measuring cup or use handy wipes. He prepared them for the journey ahead. He healed them from the bottom up. He made them part of himself through touch: intimate and necessary.

I have written and will perform a monologue tomorrow evening at our Good Friday service and at one point, she says, “And if they [sinners and the the sick] were lucky, he would touch them: just so, just so.”

Touch me Lord. Wash my feet. Heal me. Prepare me for the days to come. The journey I have yet to walk.

 

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Mouth in Motion Before Brain in Gear

Posted in Lent, tagged , , , , on March 1, 2013| Leave a Comment »

 mouth in motionMeanwhile, Peter and those with him were slumped over in sleep. When they came to, rubbing their eyes, they saw Jesus in his glory and the two men standing with him. When Moses and Elijah had left, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, this is a great moment! Let’s build three memorials: one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He blurted this out without thinking. [Luke 9:32-33, The Message]

Oh that Peter, a man after my own heart . . . er, verbal mistakes. It’s all about the enthusiasm, I know. Believe me, I know. If I get excited about an idea, I can’t wait to blurt it out. And of course, I speak with such authority! No wonder people are put off. But how do I explain it? I get a picture in my head and without analyzing what that picture might mean or the ramifications of actually implementing this picture, I share it.

Of course, I know right away when I’ve blown it. Either the people around me have a glazed look in their eyes or they look down at the table at a meeting. Bad idea, I get it. Bad idea.

If only this would be enough and I would stop. But once my mouth is in motion, I keep at it, trying to figure it out as I go, trying to massage the idea as it comes barreling forth, trying to fix what I said or add enough details that might salvage the moment. Instead, I manage to dig a deeper hole. Been there done that . . . a million times.

But Jesus was not engaged with his human friends at that point, he was transfigured (perhaps that body was more like the one people saw after his resurrection, who knows). And in that state of transfiguration, Jesus was not of this world, but transcending dimensions (something no less miraculous than feeding 5,000 and raising the dead). The source was the same: God. And really, who knows who those other two “figures” were or if their presence was relevant to what Peter and John saw. We’ll never know for sure.

And why did Jesus bring Peter and John along at all? It’s not like Jesus hadn’t gone off alone many, many times before that. He wanted them to witness the transfiguration. Why?

This weekend, I’ll be teaching at the Sunday evening Launch service on silence. Just another paradox in God’s economy. 🙂

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The Poor in Me

Posted in Lent, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on February 23, 2013| Leave a Comment »

prayerr“Leave her alone,” Jesus replied. “It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial.You will always have the poor among you,but you will not always have me.” [John 12:7-8]

Priorities. Sometimes, that can be a the problem while serving others in the name of Christ. We lose track of the reason we are giving up our time and energy. I can speak to this, because, “I are one.” That is, I am working, volunteering, going and going and going, but not stopping long enough to give balance to my day by spending time in silence with God.

It’s the still time, the set aside time, the Christ time, that gives meaning and strength to all the other time. I know this. I believe. And yet, I will sleep an extra 4 snoozes on the alarm, I will throw yogurt in my purse as I rush out the door, I will call people while I’m driving, I will make appointments without checking my calendar, I will say yes and yes and yes to people who ask for my time, I will write at all hours of the night, I will make three trips to the grocery store on the same day, I will pay the late fee on my bills, I will visit friends who are sick, and on and on and on I go. But, I will still fail to stop long enough to center down, to breathe, to pray, to meditate, to connect with the Holy Spirit, to utter gratitude in the silence.

Jesus had a very small window in the flesh. Jesus was more than humanity could tolerate. And yet, despite the urgency of need in the world, he found time for solitude. He made time for prayer and listening. He could not do what he had to do without it.

How long is our own time here in the flesh? I cannot even know what the next hour will bring or the next car ride. I have now. I have a choice in the moment.

Will I pour out my ointment to the Christ or dash about?

Christ is with me always now, but in what capacity? Am I conscious of the Presence? Breathe.

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Is Lazarus Still Here?

Posted in Lent, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on February 21, 2013| 3 Comments »

LazarusSix days before the Passover, Jesus came to Bethany, where Lazarus lived, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. Here a dinner was given in Jesus’ honor. Martha served, while Lazarus was among those reclining at the table with him. [John 12:1-2]

Jesus was on his way to Jerusalem, not only to celebrate the Passover, but undoubtedly he knew, he was going to his suffering and death. On the way, he stopped to be with friends. These were not necessarily disciples as we have no record that Lazarus and and his sisters followed Jesus in his travels. They were, instead, a home base, a place of rest.

I find it amusing that John would mention that Martha served, this very same Martha who Jesus chastised for becoming overly upset about serving while her sister sat at his feet listening (that would have been weeks earlier). I believe it is mentioned intentionally because this was still Martha’s way. Jesus never intended for Martha to stop being Martha, but to simply stop comparing herself to others and stop stressing. She was good at what she did but Jesus wanted her to check her priorities. I can relate to that, the Martha that I am. And so, on this final trip, his  final visit to their home, Martha served her Rabbi and Lord.

But the continuing story of Lazarus has always fascinated me the most (undoubtedly because of my love for fantasy and science fiction). In Romans 6:9, Paul writes about Jesus, “For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him.” And I cannot help but wonder, what happened to the ones Jesus raised from the dead (Lazarus was not the only one, there were a few others)? What was life like afterwards? Did they have awareness of death and then life again? Was there a sense of destiny, a role that needed to be fulfilled by coming back? Did Jesus charge them with a job to do? Did Lazarus die again? Did the widow’s son or Jairus’s daughter, Tabitha, die again?

I’m just asking.

And why did Jesus weep at the death of Lazarus? He delayed coming to the sick bed of Lazarus on purpose. He knew Lazarus was dying. And yet, when Jesus finally arrived in the midst of the raw grief and shock of Mary and Martha, Jesus weeps (John 11:35). So much is assumed is about his weeping, but I am not so sure it is merely for his love for Lazarus. Instead, I believe (and this is pure conjecture on my part) that Jesus wept because of the symbolism that Lazarus’s raising implied. Jesus was seeing himself, for he too would walk from a grave and the stone rolled away.

But Lazarus did not come out with a different body, at least, there is no indication that he could transport himself or walk through walls. In fact, this is the last time we hear of Lazarus at all, reclining at table with his friend, his Rabbi, his Lord.

Is Lazarus still here? I don’t know. But what a story that would be, what an adventure. It’s on my list of tales to write.

 

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Playing Favorites

Posted in Christmas Through Epiphany, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on January 10, 2013| Leave a Comment »

Art by Shoshannah Brombacher

Art by Shoshannah Brombacher

We’re not supposed to play favorites. And yet, we do. Well, all right, let me make this more personal. I do. It’s not necessarily overtly conscious, but I catch myself expecting certain behaviors from one sibling or another. I’m sure this crosses over to my work, my neighbors, and my friends. After all, that is how we get a “best friend.” My favorite.

Genesis 37:3-4
Now Israel loved Joseph more than any of his other sons, because he had been born to him in his old age; and he made an ornaterobe for him.When his brothers saw that their father loved him more than any of them, they hated him and could not speak a kind word to him.

But, there’s more to this than that. This is not just about the father who blatantly treats one child differently than another. It’s also about the siblings themselves. They, too, wanted to be their father’s favorite. Don’t we?

For many years, joked about it, but secretly truly resented my mother’s preference for my brother, especially since he didn’t really deserve it. I’m not saying anything I haven’t told him over the years. She favored him primarily because he was male and the oldest. This was the norm in her day and in her generation. And yet, I was the one who made sure that she got a call on Mother’s day and holidays. I was the one who visited. I was the one who took her places and eventually, even took her into our home. What about me? Look what I’m doing for you. See? See? See?

James and John, Jesus’s own disciples were the same. Let us be the one who sit on either side of you. We want to be your favorites (and by implication, not John and Peter).

I’m thinking I’ve been doing this same dance with the Christ. Anoint me Jesus, make me special, pour out your gifts upon me, use me in some miraculous way, speak through me, astound the world.

Yikes! God forgive me for those secret thoughts.

There’s no doubt, Jacob made an error, showing his favoritism so overtly. Joseph, too, made an error, telling his dreams of exaltation and power.

But, here’s the real point.

In the same way that Jesus told James and John, “You don’t know what you are asking,” Jesus said. “Can you drink the cup I drink or be baptized with the baptism I am baptized with?” [Mark 10:38] He was trying to clarify: the greater the anointing, the greater the cost, the greater the sacrifice.

Before Joseph became powerful, his life led him through great trials.

If I accept the mantel of blessing, then I must also understand and accept what comes with it. It’s not a sled ride downhill. It’s a climb. It’s not a sailboat blown by the wind, it’s a rowboat.

We must be careful what we ask for and count the cost.

Joseph did not ask to be favorite but the impact of that position changed the course of his life. In some ways, Jacob, himself, by casting Joseph in that role, initiated that direction. So, let us all take care. We are all responsible, whether by favoriting one person over another or by wanting it.

“From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.” [Luke 12:48b]

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Come Along

Posted in Ordinary Time, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 24, 2012| Leave a Comment »

Come. It’s an invitation. Come see. Come along and be a part. Please come (don’t stay behind). Come with us. But it can also be a command: Come! Come here. Come on. Come away. Move! Why do I resist this word? Why do I want to go the other way? Why retreat?

Revelation 22:17, 20 b
The Spirit and the bride say, “Come!” And let the one who hears say, “Come!” Let the one who is thirsty come; and let the one who wishes take the free gift of the water of life. . . Come Lord Jesus. 

It’s a commitment to come along. It means walking or running forward. Anything else is a decrease or standing still.

When I accepted the truth of Christ as the unique being He is, I did not fully understand the implications, but I did hear the call to participate in the God Presence anyway. It was quite simple, just these words, “Come … and drink.” And these words, “Come Lord Jesus.” And with my willingness to move forward, Christ moved closer to me into a mutual embrace.

Thirty-three years ago, a friend asked me to read the New Testament as an exercise, an acting exercise if you will. In the same way that an actor should read a script for the first time, I was asked to put these words, “if this were true,” at the beginning of the text and suspend all judgments until the end. It was in this way that I heard the invitation as well as the command, to come. Like stepping through a door, I knew I would be entering a different world. For awhile, I tried to straddle the threshold, but in the end, there is only, “come” and then a decision. It’s only after the decision that a person can really know, grow, and change. Even Yoda had it right, “Do… or do not. There is no try.”

I began this particular journaling/blogging walk through the scriptures back in 2009. It’s been a very slow investigation and yet quite revealing. Of course, there have been lost days and lost verses, so I assumed I would just start over again once I finished. But is there a point? Have I lost the momentum? Am I too scattered?

I felt an actual resistance to reaching the end of Revelation. That is, until I read that same call, that allure to drawing closer, the beckoning voice of the Holy Spirit with a promise of more and deeper. Come.

What will that look like? I don’t know. But I must go.

Last week, I went to Hershey Park (amusement park) and in an uncharacteristic and spontaneous moment, I agreed to ride a roller coaster with which I was totally unfamiliar. I did not know how fast it would go or how steep it would climb or drop. I had not been watching it while walking around the park looking for my family. We met up at the entrance of the ride and they said, “Come on Mom,” and I went. It was terrifying. But I survived, as we mostly do. I screamed, I prayed, I closed my eyes, I opened my eyes. I experienced a mini-life.

God does not intend for me to know much about the ride. He just wants me to come along.

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