Luke 13:31–35
Some Pharisees came to Jesus and said, “You need to get out of town, and fast. Herod is trying to kill you.” Jesus replied, “Go tell that fox ‘Today and tomorrow, I will be casting out devils and healing people, and on the third day I will reach my goal.’ Even with all that, I will need to continue on my journey today, tomorrow and the day after that, since no prophet can be allowed to die anywhere except in Jerusalem.
O Jerusalem, Jerusalem! You kill the prophets and stone those who are sent to you! How often have I wanted to gather your children together as a mother bird collects her babies under her wings, yet you refuse me! So take note: your house will be left to you desolate. I tell you, you will not see me again until you say, ‘Blessed is the One who comes in the name of our God!’”
Reflection -- by James Walker
This passage from Luke’s Gospel falls between two teachings of Jesus that are unsettling to the status quo. Indeed, from my perspective, Jesus is constant in his challenge to the sensible and proper conventions of accepted daily life. In the world that God is creating, “some are last who will be first, and some are first who will be last. All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.”
So, as I begin my Lenten journey into the depths of contemplation, it occurs to me to focus my meditation on Jesus’ words in this lesson: “O Jerusalem, Jerusalem! You kill the prophets and stone those who are sent to you!”
I’ve been told over the years that I can tend to take things too personally, so I figure I might as well continue that behavior, here. For you see, in this passage, I can easily hear Jesus talking to me — to us. How do I, in 2010, continue to slay, squelch and suppress the prophets? How do we as individuals, as a church, and as a nation betray the message and lives of those who have called us to live the liberating news of justice, peace and reconciliation?
The religious leaders in this lesson are encouraging Jesus to play it safe and get out of town before Herod destroys him. Yet the serenely powerful response of Jesus is to keep going at the work of healing, confronting evil directly, and bringing new life and health to those who are hungry for it. This isn’t play-it-safe, compliant behavior. Jesus clearly knows the dangers involved in this truth telling, in prophesying — especially to those in power. This is head-on, confrontational and subversive. He challenges the convenience of our lifestyles, belief systems and false allegiances.
And this is precisely why I choose to follow Jesus, the embodiment of God and role-model of how to live my life. Jesus shows me the way to live in love, including uncomfortable truth-telling, and that love is so immense and gives itself so fully that it will walk steadfastly to Jerusalem — even to execution on the cross.
In this Lenten season of contemplation and self-examination, I hope that we will prayerfully hear the courageous Jesus who heals us and calls us to question all systems that cause violence to the spirit of God in us or in any of our sisters and brothers. May we then offer ourselves as instruments of peace, reconciliation, justice, healing, love, hope and joy.
During the Week
Can you find a place to take Jesus’ words personally? In what ways are your thoughts and actions inhibiting the Reign of God?
Where can you find strength and encouragement to run the race with steadfast endurance?
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
LENT I
Luke 4:1-13
Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. Jesus ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished. The devil said to him, “If you are the Chosen One, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.”
Jesus answered, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone.’” Then the devil led Jesus up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And the devil said to him, “To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.” Jesus answered, “It is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only God.’”
Then the devil took Jesus to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying, “If you are the Chosen One, throw yourself down from here, for it is written, ‘God will command angels concerning you, to protect you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’” Jesus answered, “It is said, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’” Having finished every test, the devil departed from him until an opportune time.
Reflection -- by Toi Perkins
Here I stand in the wilderness - the desert of my soul. My disappointments clutter my path like tumbleweeds.Mistakes blur my vision like wisps of dry, sandy air. Pleading lips and heart cracked open. I begin to surrender myself to the desert, sinking into the sands of despair. And yet a cool breath like sea breeze whispers: “This is not your end, but your beginning.”
Jesus was led to the wilderness and yet this barren terrain of nothingness was not the end. “He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished.” After days of fasting, emptying, giving up, letting go, Jesus experiences a deep hunger – a hunger that could not be sated by food for, as the author of Luke writes, Jesus says, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone.”
What can I give over to the desert? I search my rooms: I find guilt and shame under the bed, fear stuffed between the cushions of the couch, old grudges tucked away in a closet. Flipping through an old file cabinet I find a note that reads: “I love you. You are forgiven. Forgive.” That I will keep.
Before we meet Jesus in the desert, we meet his ancestors - a mix of Jews and non-Jews, known and unknown, ‘holy’ and ‘unholy’. Jesus is from everyone, represents everyone and is for everyone. The wilderness experience is the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. The author of Luke does not write much about Jesus’ wilderness days, but maybe Jesus sat with his disappointments and mistakes on the brink of despair. Maybe as he sat, he could feel the love of God out of the nothingness. It was this God of the desert that gave him the strength and power to begin. It was this God that showed him that the true bread of the desert is hope.
I know that I am loved, am loveable. This is my new life. I sink no more into despair and complacency. A deep hunger gnaws at my soul; a deep hope burrows itself into the sinews of my heart.
Our journey will inevitably lead us into the desert. Some of us are on the fringes, and others of us are trapped among vast dunes. It is part of our humanity and, as such, connects us. God beckons us out of our desert places into an oasis of abundant life and love. If there is something keeping you from the bread of the desert, you may find, tucked away in a rusty file cabinet, help in a note that reads: “I love you. You are forgiven. Forgive.” – keep it.
During the Week
What can you give to the desert? How much more could you give, how much more could you receive if you gave something up?
Can you allow yourself to be anointed by the desert?
Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. Jesus ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished. The devil said to him, “If you are the Chosen One, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.”
Jesus answered, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone.’” Then the devil led Jesus up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And the devil said to him, “To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.” Jesus answered, “It is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only God.’”
Then the devil took Jesus to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying, “If you are the Chosen One, throw yourself down from here, for it is written, ‘God will command angels concerning you, to protect you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’” Jesus answered, “It is said, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’” Having finished every test, the devil departed from him until an opportune time.
Reflection -- by Toi Perkins
Here I stand in the wilderness - the desert of my soul. My disappointments clutter my path like tumbleweeds.Mistakes blur my vision like wisps of dry, sandy air. Pleading lips and heart cracked open. I begin to surrender myself to the desert, sinking into the sands of despair. And yet a cool breath like sea breeze whispers: “This is not your end, but your beginning.”
Jesus was led to the wilderness and yet this barren terrain of nothingness was not the end. “He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished.” After days of fasting, emptying, giving up, letting go, Jesus experiences a deep hunger – a hunger that could not be sated by food for, as the author of Luke writes, Jesus says, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone.”
What can I give over to the desert? I search my rooms: I find guilt and shame under the bed, fear stuffed between the cushions of the couch, old grudges tucked away in a closet. Flipping through an old file cabinet I find a note that reads: “I love you. You are forgiven. Forgive.” That I will keep.
Before we meet Jesus in the desert, we meet his ancestors - a mix of Jews and non-Jews, known and unknown, ‘holy’ and ‘unholy’. Jesus is from everyone, represents everyone and is for everyone. The wilderness experience is the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. The author of Luke does not write much about Jesus’ wilderness days, but maybe Jesus sat with his disappointments and mistakes on the brink of despair. Maybe as he sat, he could feel the love of God out of the nothingness. It was this God of the desert that gave him the strength and power to begin. It was this God that showed him that the true bread of the desert is hope.
I know that I am loved, am loveable. This is my new life. I sink no more into despair and complacency. A deep hunger gnaws at my soul; a deep hope burrows itself into the sinews of my heart.
Our journey will inevitably lead us into the desert. Some of us are on the fringes, and others of us are trapped among vast dunes. It is part of our humanity and, as such, connects us. God beckons us out of our desert places into an oasis of abundant life and love. If there is something keeping you from the bread of the desert, you may find, tucked away in a rusty file cabinet, help in a note that reads: “I love you. You are forgiven. Forgive.” – keep it.
During the Week
What can you give to the desert? How much more could you give, how much more could you receive if you gave something up?
Can you allow yourself to be anointed by the desert?
Sunday, February 14, 2010
ASH WEDNESDAY
February 17
Reflection -- by Anne Peterson
A year ago, on Palm Sunday, we waved fronds from palms during the procession, as a reminder of the cheering crowd that hailed Jesus as he rode into Jerusalem on a donkey. In a poetic system of recycling, those palms have been burned and have become the ashes of Ash Wednesday.
Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of Lent, historically a six-week period of preparation for new members who would be baptized into the Christian community on Easter Eve. The ashes are imposed on our foreheads during the Ash Wednesday service, as a symbol of our mortality. “From dust you came, and to dust you shall return,” are the words said as the sign of the cross is made on our foreheads. This powerful symbol serves as a wake-up call, a reminder that life is short, and that one should live it thoughtfully.
The introspective tone of Lent is modeled on Jesus’ fasting in the desert—the 40 days in the wilderness where he was tempted by the forces of the world, a period of preparation for the beginning of his ministry. There is a wonderful freedom in this structure of Lent, a sense of permission to change the hectic rhythms of life-as-it-is-usually lived and retreat in some small way.
Over the years I have marked this season by giving something up or taking something on. I have set the alarm earlier in order to be silent for a period each morning, noting in a journal what comes to me. And often, as with this year, I have worked through what is going on in my soul in a small group. This year, my focus is my relationship with God using Marcus Borg’s book, The God We Never Knew. Each year I have asked, where am I blocked in my spirit? What is weighing me down? This year the answer to that is, my garage. The very act of putting this into print makes me vibrate with anxiety. I am not good at sorting, tossing, and organizing. And it is not the contemplative, inner work I associate with Lent.
This may be the most difficult Lent I have ever spent.
The fact I will keep track of my progress in community, in my small group, gives me hope. I promise not to ask them to physically help me work in my garage. But I know I cannot be a person of faith alone and that my small group will help me to focus and get a grip!
During the Week
Identify your “garage” and bring it to God in silence and to your community aloud.
Matthew 6:1–6, 16–21
Jesus said, “Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from God in heaven. So whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you give alms, do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing, so that your alms may be done in secret; and God who sees in secret will reward you.
And whenever you pray, do not be like the hypocrites; for they love to stand and pray in the synagogues and at the street corners, so that they may be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But whenever you pray, go into your room and shut the door and pray to God who is in secret; and God who sees in secret will reward you.
And whenever you fast, do not look dismal, like the hypocrites, for they disfigure their faces so as to show others that they are fasting. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward. But when you fast, put oil on your head and wash your face, so that your fasting may be seen not by others but by God who is in secret; and God who sees in secret will reward you. Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust consumes and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
Reflection -- by Anne Peterson
A year ago, on Palm Sunday, we waved fronds from palms during the procession, as a reminder of the cheering crowd that hailed Jesus as he rode into Jerusalem on a donkey. In a poetic system of recycling, those palms have been burned and have become the ashes of Ash Wednesday.
Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of Lent, historically a six-week period of preparation for new members who would be baptized into the Christian community on Easter Eve. The ashes are imposed on our foreheads during the Ash Wednesday service, as a symbol of our mortality. “From dust you came, and to dust you shall return,” are the words said as the sign of the cross is made on our foreheads. This powerful symbol serves as a wake-up call, a reminder that life is short, and that one should live it thoughtfully.
The introspective tone of Lent is modeled on Jesus’ fasting in the desert—the 40 days in the wilderness where he was tempted by the forces of the world, a period of preparation for the beginning of his ministry. There is a wonderful freedom in this structure of Lent, a sense of permission to change the hectic rhythms of life-as-it-is-usually lived and retreat in some small way.
Over the years I have marked this season by giving something up or taking something on. I have set the alarm earlier in order to be silent for a period each morning, noting in a journal what comes to me. And often, as with this year, I have worked through what is going on in my soul in a small group. This year, my focus is my relationship with God using Marcus Borg’s book, The God We Never Knew. Each year I have asked, where am I blocked in my spirit? What is weighing me down? This year the answer to that is, my garage. The very act of putting this into print makes me vibrate with anxiety. I am not good at sorting, tossing, and organizing. And it is not the contemplative, inner work I associate with Lent.
This may be the most difficult Lent I have ever spent.
The fact I will keep track of my progress in community, in my small group, gives me hope. I promise not to ask them to physically help me work in my garage. But I know I cannot be a person of faith alone and that my small group will help me to focus and get a grip!
During the Week
Identify your “garage” and bring it to God in silence and to your community aloud.
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