Palm Sunday

Matthew 26:36–56

After the meal, Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane and said to the disciples, “Stay here while I go over there and pray.” Jesus took along Peter, James and John and started to feel grief and anguish. Then he said to them, “My soul is deeply grieved, to the point of death. Please, stay here, and stay awake with me.” Jesus went on a little further and fell prostrate in prayer: “Abba, if it is possible, let this cup pass me by. But not what I want – what you want.” When Jesus returned to the disciples, he found them asleep. He said to Peter, “Could you not stay awake with me for even an hour? Be on guard, and pray that you may not undergo trial. The spirit is willing, but the body is weak.”

Withdrawing a second time, Jesus prayed, “Abba, if this cup cannot pass me by without my drinking it, your will be done!” Once more Jesus returned and found the disciples asleep; they could not keep their eyes open. Jesus left them again, withdrew somewhat and prayed for a third time, saying the same words as before. Finally Jesus returned to the disciples and said to them, “Are you still sleeping? Still taking your rest? The hour is upon us – the Chosen One is being betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up! Let us be on our way! Look, my betrayer is here.”
While Jesus was still speaking, Judas, one of the Twelve, arrived – accompanied by a great crowd with swords and clubs. They had been sent by the chief priests and elders of the people. Judas had arranged to give them a signal.

“Whomever I embrace is the one,” he had said; “take hold of him.” He immediately went over to Jesus and said, “Shalom, Rabbi!” and embraced him. Jesus said to Judas, “Friend, just do what you are here to do!” At that moment, the crowd surrounded them, laid hands on Jesus and arrested him. Suddenly, one of those who accompanied Jesus drew a sword and slashed at the high priest’s attendant, cutting off an ear. Jesus said, “Put your sword back where it belongs. Those who live by the sword die by the sword. Do you not think I can call on God to provide over twelve legions of angels at a moment's notice? But then how would the scriptures be fulfilled, which say it must happen this way?” Then Jesus said to the crowd, “Am I a robber, that you have come armed with swords and clubs to arrest me? Every day I sat teaching in the Temple precincts, yet you never arrested me.” All this happened in fulfillment of the writings of the prophets. Then all the disciples deserted Jesus and fled.

REFLECTIONby James Walker

Waking from a nap during a TV rerun of the 1965 epic film, The Greatest Story Ever Told, my mother mumbled in sleepy horror, "Oh, phooey; I couldn't stay awake with Jesus, just like his disciples. ‘The spirit is willing, but the body is weak.’” I don't remember how I responded to my mother's dazed comment forty years ago — I suspect something smart and/or pious (fully capable of both in those teenage years) — but I do believe we have much to gain if we are able to stay awake with Jesus, in real time.

Once again our annual pilgrimage of Holy Week is upon us. How does the scene in the garden of Gethsemane speak to us today? Each year, I feel called to walk with Jesus into the valley of grief, betrayal and death. We know the story, even as it unfolds, like a familiar song.

My song is love unknown,
My savior’s love to me,
Love to the loveless shown
That they might lovely be.
O who am I
That for my sake
My Lord should take
Frail flesh, and die?

My savior’s love, so great that he feels all that I feel — joy, anxiety, peace, strength, vulnerability, despair. Jesus, clothed in my very human flesh, yet so centered and aligned in God’s love. Jesus shows me the way to live. In this sense, Jesus truly is my savior, the light of my salvation, my saving health. His life of service leads me on the path of abundant life.

And, here at the end of that magnificent life, as friends desert and betray him, as his confidants fall asleep and leave Jesus to his stark loneliness, as he prays to God that this moment would simply pass, Jesus remains steadfast to the life of love — even to execution on the cross.

He came from his blest throne
Salvation to bestow,
But men made strange, and none
The longed-for Christ would know.
But O my friend,
My friend indeed,
Who at my need
His life did spend.

My savior, my friend. Jesus is my companion, my God-in-flesh brother. I used to shy away from language such as this, fearing the mirror of my perceived wacky-fringe family. A personal relationship with Jesus the savior? “Not for me,” I would lie. For the truth is that my close companionship with Jesus has saved my life in the valleys of despair and alienation. It is this dearest of friendships that illuminates my daily path, and it is this cherished sweetness that I pray sings in my heart this week and through eternity.

Here might I stay and sing,
No story so divine:
Never was love, dear King,
Never was grief like thine.
This is my friend,
In whose sweet praise
I all my days
Could gladly spend.

—Samuel Crossman (1624-1683)

Lent V

John 11:1–45

There was a certain man named Lazarus, who was sick. He and his sisters, Mary and Martha, were from the village of Bethany. Mary was the one who had anointed the feet of Jesus with perfume and dried his feet with her hair, and it was her brother Lazarus who was sick. The sisters sent this message to Jesus: “Rabbi, the one you love is sick.”

When Jesus heard this, he said, “This sickness will not end in death; it is happening for God’s glory, so that God’s Only Begotten may be glorified because of it.” Jesus loved these three very much. Yet even after hearing that Laza-rus was sick, he remained where he was staying for two more days. Finally he said to the disciples, “Let us go back to Judea.”

They protested, “Rabbi, it was only recently that they tried to stone you – and you want to go back there again?” Jesus replied, “Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Those who walk by day do not stumble, because they see the world bathed in light; those who go walking by night will stumble because there is no light in them.” After Jesus said this, he said to the disciples, “Our beloved Lazarus has fallen asleep, I am going to Judea to wake him.”

The disciples objected, “But Rabbi, if he is only asleep, he will be fine.” Jesus had been speaking about Laza-rus’ death, but they thought he was talking about actual sleep. So he said very plainly, “Lazarus is dead! : For your sakes I am glad that I was not there, that you might come to believe. In any event, let us go to him.” Then Thomas, “the Twin” said to the rest, “Let us go with Jesus, so that we can die with him.” When Jesus arrived in Bethany, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days. Since Bethany was only about two miles from Jerusa-lem, many people had come out to console Martha and Mary about their brother.

When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went to meet him, while Mary stayed at home with the mourners. When she got to Jesus, Martha said, “If you had been here, my brother would never have died! Yet even now, I am sure that God will give you whatever you ask.” “Your brother will rise again!” Jesus assured her. Martha replied, “I know he will rise again in the resur-rection on the last day.”

Jesus told her, “I am the Resurrection, and I am Life: those who believe in me will live, even if they die; and those who are alive and believe in me will never die. Do you believe this?” “Yes!” Martha replied. “I have come to believe that you are the Messiah, God’s Only Begotten, the One who is coming into the world.”

When she had said this, Martha went back and called to her sister Mary. “The Teacher is here, asking for you,” she whispered. As soon as Mary heard this she got up and went to him. Jesus had not gotten to the village yet. He was at the place where Martha had met him. Those who were there consoling her saw her get up quickly and fol-lowed Mary, thinking she was going to the tomb to mourn.

When Mary got to Jesus, she fell at his feet and said, “If you had been here, Lazarus never would have died.” When Jesus saw her weeping, and the other mourners as well, he was troubled in spirit, moved by the deepest emotions. “Where have you laid him?” Jesus asked. “Come and see,” they said. And Jesus wept. The people in the crowd began to remark, “See how much he loved him!” Others said, “He made the blind person see; why could he not have done something to prevent Lazarus’ death?”

Jesus was again deeply moved. They approached the tomb, which was a cave with a stone in front of it. “Take away the stone,” Jesus directed. Martha said, “Rabbi, it has been four days now. By this time there will be a stench.” Jesus replied, “Did I not assure you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?”

So they took the stone away. Jesus raised his eyes to heaven and said, “God, thank you for having heard me. I know that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd, that they might believe that you sent me!” Then Jesus called out in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” And Lazarus came out of the tomb, still bound hand and foot with linen strips, his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus told the crowd, “Untie him and let him go free.” Many of those who had come to console Mary and Martha, and saw what Jesus did, put their faith in him.


Reflection-- by Sharalyn Hamilton

I grew up in a family of storytellers. Sitting around the kitchen table or, on summer nights, on the porch listening to stories of hardship, tragedy, triumph and love are some of my favorite memories.

The gospel writer, John is a skillful story teller. In the story often referred to as “the raising of Lazarus,” John crafts the hardship –Lazarus falls ill and his friend Jesus, the healer, is nowhere near. His sisters try to locate their dear friend Jesus and bring him to Lazarus. Then the tragedy – Jesus does not come and Lazarus dies. Martha and Mary are filled with grief over the loss of their brother and regret that Jesus did not get back in time to save him. But when Jesus arrives he brings triumph over death, calling Lazarus from the tomb. Woven through the relationships, motivating actions and prompting the rejoicing, is love. It is no wonder I love bible stories. They mirror the stories of my family, and the entire human family.

One of the ways to reflect on this kind of a story is to read it out loud and see if you are drawn to a particular character. Read it again putting yourself in that character’s place. Then take time to reflect. Allow your mind to rewrite the story and be open to what it might have to teach you.

Several years ago I reflected on today’s passage using this method. I put myself in Lazarus’ place. For days I reflected on being Lazarus in the tomb and, surprisingly, I did not want to come out. I would hear Jesus calling me and I didn’t want to move from my dark and now familiar place. The stone was rolled away allowing light to pierce the darkness, but, rather than drawing me out, this repelled me. I was clinging to the darkness where I felt safe. But the voice continued to call.

Finally I realized that a small part of me (of my life) had died and needed to be left behind so that the rest of me could live. I said my good-byes, grieved the loss and, even though afraid, walked into the light. To my surprise the light was warm and others were there to help unbind me and set me free to experience resurrection.

There are many aspects of this story on which to reflect:

1. What is friendship? How much we are our brother’s keeper? Martha and Mary call on their friend when he is needed. Jesus does not run to Lazarus immediately.
2. Feelings such as fear are messengers about what we need and what to ask for, and not impede ments to moving forward. The disciples feared what would happen if Jesus returned to Judea because they had experienced hostility.
3. Grief may be a part of letting go and experiencing resurrection. Martha, Mary and Jesus were clearly grieving Lazarus.
4. As much as any experience may feel personal and lonely, we are not alone. Lazarus heard Jesus calling him. When he emerged from the tomb he was still bound by the burial cloths. Those gathered at the tomb unbound him.

Lent IV

John 9:1-41

As Jesus walked along, he saw someone who had been blind from birth. The disciples asked Jesus, “Rabbi, was it this individual's sin that caused the blindness, or that of the parents?” “Neither,” answered Jesus, “It was not because of anyone's sin – not this person's, nor the parents.‟ Rather, it was to let God's works shine forth in this person. We must do the deeds of the One who sent me while it is still day – for night is coming, when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.”

With that, Jesus spat on the ground, made mud with his saliva and smeared the blind one's eyes with the mud. Then Jesus said, “Go, wash in the pool of Siloam” (which means "sent"). So the person went off to wash, and came back able to see. Neighbors and those who had been accustomed to seeing the blind beggar began to ask, “Is this not the one who used to sit and beg?” Some said yes; others said no – the one who had been healed simply looked like the beggar. But the individual in question said, “No – it was me.” The people then asked, “Then how were your eyes opened?” The answer came, “The one they call Jesus made mud and smeared it on my eyes, and told me to go to Siloam and wash. When I went and washed, I was able to see.” “Where is Jesus?” they asked. The person replied, “I do not know.”

They took the one who had been born blind to the Pharisees. It had been on a Sabbath that Jesus had made the mud paste and opened this one's eyes. The Pharisees asked how the individual could see. They were told, “Jesus put mud on my eyes. I washed it off, and now I can see.” This prompted some Pharisees to say, “This Jesus cannot be from God, because he does not keep the Sabbath.” Others argued, “But how could a sinner perform signs like these?” They were sharply divided. They addressed the blind person again: “Since it was your eyes he opened, what do you have to say about this Jesus?” “He is a prophet,” came the reply.

The Temple authorities refused to believe that this one had been blind and had begun to see, until they summoned the parents. “Is this your child?” they asked, “and if so, do you attest that your child was blind at birth? How do you account for the fact that now your child can see?” The parents answered, “We know this is our child, blind from birth. But how our child can see now, or who opened those blind eyes, we have no idea. But do not ask us – our child is old enough to speak without us!” The parents answered this way because they were afraid of the Temple authorities, who had already agreed among themselves that anyone who acknowledged Jesus as the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue. That was why they said, “Our child is of age and should be asked directly.”

A second time they summoned the one who had been born blind and said, “Give God the glory instead; we know that this Jesus is a sinner.” “I do not know whether he is a sinner or not,” the individual answered. “All I know is that I used to be blind, and now I can see.” They persisted, “Just what did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?” “I already told you, but you will not listen to me,” came the answer. “Why do you want to hear it all over again? Do not tell me you want to become disciples of Jesus too!” They retorted scornfully, “You are the one who is Jesus' disciple. We are disciples of Moses. We know that God spoke to Moses, but we have no idea where this Jesus comes from.” The other retorted: “Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, yet he opened my eyes! We know that God does not hear sinners, but that if people are devout and obey God's will, God listens to them. It is unheard of that anyone ever gave sight to a person blind from birth. If this one were not from God, he could never have done such a thing!” “What!” they exclaimed. “You are steeped in sin from birth, and you are giving us lectures?” With that they threw the person out.

When Jesus heard of the expulsion, he sought out the healed one and asked, “Do you believe in the Chosen One?” The other answered, “Who is this One, that I may believe?” “You have seen him,” Jesus replied. “The Chosen One is speaking to you now.” The healed one said, “Yes, I believe,” and worshiped Je-sus. Jesus said, “I came into this world to execute justice – to make the sightless see and the seeing blind.” Some of the Pharisees who were nearby heard this and said, “You are not calling us blind, are you?” To which Jesus replied, “If you were blind, there would be no sin in that. But since you say, "We see,‟ your sin remains.”

Reflection by Christina Honchell

Here we have another of those great dramatic set pieces in the gospel of John: a couple of compelling main characters, timid parents for comic effect, an ethical lesson regarding the origin of sin and two choruses, the Pharisees and the disciples.

Where do I start with the things that bother me about this story? I'm a relentlessly rational person. I've always read the miracle stories with some discomfort, and I'm in good company. Thomas Jefferson cut out this story, and all of the miracle stories, when he published his version of the New Testament. This Lenten season I've been reading Leo Tolstoy's version of the Jesus story, The Life of Jesus, in which we find Tolstoy equally uncomfortable with miracles, going so far with this story that he changes the main character's blindness from a physical condition to a condition of lack of education and spirituality (the disciples ask: “Is it his fault or his parents, since they did not educate him?”).

Some of my discomfort is endemic to all of John‟s gospel: it's important to remember that this gospel was written sixty years after Jesus' death, and written in a period of great conflict between those in the Jesus movement, now in its second and third generation, and the Jewish community from which they came. And to bracket all of the language and commentary put on the lips of the Jewish Pharisees; reading John's gospel requires vigilance to recognize the anti-Semitic prejudices of the author's voice and to cut through it to find the important story being told about Jesus and his ministry.

And while it is clearly an ethical step forward for Jesus to proclaim that neither individual sin, nor inherited sin, caused the man's blindness, it feels like a step backward when he completes the lesson by saying that the man is blind in order to let “God's works shine forth.” I don't believe for a moment that God intends for some to suffer so that others might learn.

So setting aside those things that give me ouches, there is much to love about this story. Beginning with the healing ritual itself: nothing ethereal, just a gob of mud and spit smeared on the man's eyes. Washed clean in living water. Earthy, sacramental, messy. The young man, and we, are healed by the things of this earth, materials available to all of us, and it speaks to me of the importance of our life in the here and now.

When I drill down to what speaks to me in this story, it takes me back to that rationalism that I carry around with me, and that keeps me from seeing – I relate to those Pharisees.

Not so much in their obsession with sin abounding – sin in Jesus, in the young man, in his parents, but in their hubris about their religious rules and practices. They are sure that they are doing religion right. When Jesus heals on the Sabbath, the Pharisees are unable to see beyond the limits of their doctrine, and actually unable to acknowledge what has happened right before their eyes. Tolstoy changes “Pharisees” to “the Orthodox” in his retelling of the story, to indict the religious authorities of his age and of ours. No matter what our beliefs, we can all benefit from a season of bracketing our tightly held assumptions so that we can be open to what is happening right in front of us.

When Jesus says “but since you say "We see," your sin remains,” I hear a call to moving beyond the relentless rationalism that keeps me from seeing miracles around me. That keeps me from being open to the miraculous, compassionate healing that Jesus offers in this story and throughout the gospels (and that I frankly need – I have a badly broken foot that has dramatically impacted my life and challenged me to deal with discouragement and despair). That keeps me from entering into the mystery of God's Oneness.

As James Carroll says in the concluding chapter of his new book, Jerusalem, “God is greater than religion, and greater than meaning too.”

My prayer this Lenten season is to know that I don't know, and to live in that knowledge.

• Has religion or religious practice blinded you to God's love and compassion at some point in your life?
• What is the cost of letting go of those closely held assumptions that keep you from being open to the miraculous around you?
• How do you reconcile the gifts of rational thought and the gifts of God's unexplainable miracles?

LENT III

John 4:5-42

Jesus came to a Samaritan city called Sychar, near the plot of ground that Jacob had given to his son Joseph. Jacob’s well was there, and Jesus, tired out by his journey, was sitting by the well. It was about noon. A Samaritan woman came to draw water, and Jesus said to her, “Give me a drink.” (His disciples had gone to the city to buy food.) The Samaritan woman said to him, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” (Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans.) Jesus answered her, “If you knew the gift of God, and who it is that is saying to you, ‘Give me a drink,’ you would have asked him, and he would have given you living water.”

The woman said to him, “Sir, you have no bucket, and the well is deep. Where do you get that living water? Are you greater than our ancestors Leah, Rachel and Jacob, who gave us the well, and with their offspring and flocks drank from it?” Jesus said to her, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.” The woman said to him, “Sir, give me this water, so that I may never be thirsty or have to keep coming here to draw water.” Jesus said to her, “Go, call your husband, and come back.” The woman answered him, “I have no husband.” Jesus said to her, “You are right in saying, ‘I have no husband’; for you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband. What you have said is true!”

The woman said to him, “Sir, I see that you are a prophet. Our ancestors worshiped on this mountain, but you say that the place where people must worship is in Jerusalem.” Jesus said to her, “Woman, believe me, the hour is coming when you will worship God neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem. You worship what you do not know; we worship what we know, for salvation is from the Jews. But the hour is coming, and is now here, when the true worshipers will worship God in spirit and truth, for God seeks such worshipers as these. God is spirit, and those who worship God must worship in spirit and truth.” The woman said to him, “I know that Messiah –The Anointed One – is coming, and will proclaim all things to us.” Jesus said to her, “I who speak to you am the Messiah.”

The disciples, returning at this point, were shocked to find Jesus having a private conversation with a woman. But no one dared to ask, “What do you want of him?” or “Why are you talking with her?” The woman then left her water jar and went off into the town. She said to the people, “Come and see someone who told me everything I have ever done! Could this be the Messiah?” At that, everyone set out from town to meet Jesus. Meanwhile, the disciples were urging Jesus, “Rabbi, eat something.” But Jesus told them, “I have food to eat that you know nothing about.” At this, the disciples said to one another, “Do you think someone has brought him something to eat?” Jesus explained to them, “Doing the will of the One who sent me and bringing this work to completion is my food. Do you not have a saying, ‘Four months more and it will be harvest time’? I tell you, open your eyes and look at the fields – they are ripe and ready for harvest! Reapers are already collecting their wages; they are gathering fruit for eternal life, and sower and reaper will rejoice together. So the saying is true: ‘One person sows; another reaps.’ I have sent you to reap what you have not worked for. Others have done the work, and you have come upon the fruits of their laborer.”

Many Samaritans from that city believed in him because of the strength of the woman’s testimony, “He told me everything I have ever done.” So when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them; and he stayed there two days. And many more believed because of his word. They said to the woman, “It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Savior of the world.”
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Reflection -- by Zelda Kennedy

Marcus Borg once wrote, “. . . to be on a journey is to be in movement. Moving from place to place, and there is change in such a life. A journey is a process that involves our whole being. It involves our feet as well as our minds and our heads. A journey involves following a path or way. To be on a journey is not to be involved in aimless wandering, though there may be times when it feels like that; people have gone on this journey before that we are called to, and there is a trail, a path, a way.”

The journey I want us to follow today is that of the “Woman of Samaria,” whose story is found only in the gospel of John. Please know that while this is a story about a woman, I believe this story reflects our journey in varying phases. It’s a story of a person who finds herself at a point in life where self-esteem is low, life is lonely and yet she finds ways to cope with her situation. It is a story of someone, who has a divine encounter that’s life changing. It is a story of someone given a choice to make a change that allows her to make a difference. I know that many of you have heard and read the story of Jesus and the Woman at the Well numerous times. Please take time to re-read it, again. Interestingly, each time I re-read this story, the more I realize what an incredible encounter it is.

Historically, in first century Palestine, where the woman of Samaria resided, the major racial division was between Jews and Gentiles. Jews resented Samaritans because in them was found a mixture of Jewish and Gentile blood. This mixture of the races in Samaria made the Samaritans so repulsive to the pureblood Jews of Judea and Galilee that it was freely acknowledged "Jews had no dealings with Samaritans" (John 4:9; 8:48), and despised Samaritans so much that they would not set foot in Samaria. Therefore, instead of taking the direct route through Samaria when traveling, Jews went out of their way to travel along the east bank of the Jordan River. Thank God, it was not so with Jesus! "He needed to go through Samaria" (John 4:4). Why? In second Thessalonians the writer states that this Samaritan woman was chosen for Christ’s salvation (2 Thessalonians 2:13), and while the males of her time considered this nameless woman of Samaria a possession, Jesus reminded her how very precious she was by his mere acknowledgement of her humanity. He didn’t have to know her name. He knew her heart.

He essentially tells her that she is worthy of receiving the best God has to offer – even with questionable morals. (John clearly states that she had been married to five different men, and was now living with another man outside the bounds of holy matrimony (John 4:16-18)). During her day this was considered scandalous behavior. This was probably the reason why she came to draw water from the public well "about the sixth hour" (John 4:6), which was high noon, according to the Jewish computation of time. The more respectable women drew water in the cooler hours of the morning or the evening. I also believe our nameless woman of Samaria came to the well during the hottest hour of the day because she had low self-esteem. She didn’t believe she was somebody. Her actions and behavior demonstrated she felt like nobody – truly unworthy – unworthy of receiving and giving joy; unworthy of being satisfactorily single; unworthy of being, while feeling trapped and outside of the norms of society and living on the margins.

This remarkable story of divine encounter shows us the power of being given an opportunity to choose. Someone once wrote, “The most basic choice we have in life is whether to expand or contract, whether to bring our creative and expressive energies out into the world in positive or negative ways.” No matter what our circumstances, we have the power to choose our directions for our journey. Jesus gave the woman of Samaria a choice. And what did she do? She took her choice and ran with it! She was not satisfied with receiving and keeping her gift from Jesus to herself. No, she went out and shared it with others.

How many of us can see ourselves in the woman at the well?During this Lenten season, I want to challenge you to accept this time as a gift, like receiving a long, cool drink of refreshing water. A gift that allows you to take care of self, so that you may eventually shift your focus to others, while you continue to revisit, rediscover, realign and reignite your purpose in life.

Lent II

Lent II
John (3:1–17)

A certain Pharisee named Nicodemus, a member of the Sanhedrin, came to Jesus at night. “Rabbi,” he said, “we know you are a teacher come from God, for no one can perform the signs and wonders you do, unless by the power of God.” Jesus gave Nicodemus this answer: “The truth of the matter is, unless one is born from above, one cannot see the kingdom of God.” Nicodemus said, “How can an adult be born a second time? I cannot go back into my mother’s womb to be born again!” Jesus replied: “The truth of the matter is, no one can enter God’s kingdom without being born of water and the Spirit. What is born of the flesh is flesh; what is born of the Spirit is Spirit. So do not be surprised when I tell you that you must be born from above. The wind blows where it will. You hear the sound it makes, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” “How can this be possible?” asked Nicodemus.

Jesus replied, “You are a teacher of Israel, and you still do not understand these matters? The truth of the matter is, we are talking about what we know; we are testifying about what we have seen – yet you do not accept our testimony. If you do not believe when I tell you about earthly things, how will you believe when I tell you about heavenly things? No one has gone up to heaven except the One who came down from heaven – the Chosen One. As Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert, so the Chosen One must be lifted up, so that everyone who believes might have eternal life. Yes, God so loved the world as to give the Only Begotten, that whoever believes may not die, but have eternal life. God sent the Chosen One into the world not to condemn the world, but that through the Only Begotten the world might be saved.

Reflection: Giving Up Literalism for Lent -- by Susan RussellNicodemus is one of my all time favorites. The story we have for the Gospel this second Sunday in Lent is a perfect example of someone of good faith with great intentions and a sincerely seeking heart utterly missing the point Jesus was trying to make by falling into the trap labeled “literalism.”

And even more than I love Nicodemus, I love how graciously and patiently Jesus works to move him beyond the limits of literalism that trap him into failing to see the wideness and abundance of God’s love, justice and compassion. Jesus does not give up on Nicodemus -- even after he asks one question after the other … even as he seems determined not to “get” that being born from above (other translations call it “born again”) has nothing to do with a physical birth but with a spiritual re-birth.

This conversation we have here in the third chapter of John can’t be the only one Jesus and Nicodemus had. The others aren’t preserved for us – by John or by anybody else. But there are two reasons I’m convinced that Nicodemus continued to learn from Jesus – and those two reasons are the two other places Nicodemus shows up in John’s gospel.

We encounter him again in chapter seven during a debate between Pharisees and the temple guards about what to do about this radical rabbi from Nazareth:

Nicodemus, who had gone to Jesus earlier and who was one of their own number, asked, “Does our law condemn a man without first hearing him to find out what he has been doing?” They replied, “Are you from Galilee, too? Look into it, and you will find that a prophet does not come out of Galilee.” Then they all went home.

So Nicodemus – a teacher and political leader – has gone from meeting with Jesus under the cover of darkness to standing up in the Sanhedrin (think Senate or House investigative hearing) to defend him.

But wait – there’s more. The third and last time we encounter Nicodemus is in the nineteenth chapter of John … just after the crucifixion:

Later, Joseph of Arimathea asked Pilate for the body of Jesus. Now Joseph was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly because he feared the Jewish leaders. With Pilate’s permission, he came and took the body away. He was accompanied by Nicodemus, the man who earlier had visited Jesus at night. Nicodemus brought a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about seventy-five pounds. Taking Jesus’ body, the two of them wrapped it, with the spices, in strips of linen … and since the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there.

Quite a transformation! From missing entirely the point of the Good News Jesus had come to proclaim to standing up and speaking truth to power in his defense at the Sanhedrin to courageously seeing to it that Jesus was properly buried after all the disciples had fled in fear, terror and disappointment. Nicodemus may not have grasped what Jesus meant by “born from above” when first they met but by the end of the story he is a living example of what that re-birth looks like: of someone who both stepped out and spoke up. He is an icon of transformation.

And it seemed to me – mulling this text this year – that the first step on that transformational journey for Nicodemus was moving beyond the limits of literalism and being open to what Jesus so patiently tried to teach him … and us … in this third chapter of John. “The wind blows where it will,” Jesus said. And that is as true for us as it was for Nicodemus, for that wind is still blowing. The wind of change. The wind of challenge. The wind of the Holy Spirit.

• Where are we being called – like Nicodemus was – to look beyond what we think we know in order to become what God would have us become?
• When have we – as individuals, as a church, as a community – been challenged to give up literalism in order to embrace new understandings?
• How can we – like Nicodemus – be “born from above” and empowered to speak truth to power in our own “Sanhedrins” as he did in his?

Holy God, heal us – as you healed your servant Nicodemus – of being so blinded by literal words on paper that we cannot see the Living Word in our world. And help us, we pray, to follow Nicodemus by boldly proclaiming your Good News to all as we speak truth to power and stand with the marginalized and oppressed. Amen.

LENT I

Matthew 4:1-11

After Jesus was baptized, he was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished. The tempter came and said, “If you are the Only Begotten, command these stones to become loaves of bread.” But Jesus answered, “It is written, ‘One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.’” Then the devil took Jesus to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying, “If you are the Only Begotten, throw yourself down; for it is written, ‘God will command the angels concerning you,’ and ‘On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.’” Jesus replied, “Again it is written, ‘Do not put the Lord your God to the test.’” Again, the devil took Jesus to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor; and said to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.” Jesus said, “Away with you, Satan! for it is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only God.’” Then the devil left Jesus, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.

Reflection by Jeremy Langill, Director of Youth Ministry

Forty days and forty nights was an expression often used to convey the experience of a great length of time—today we say, “I waited forever” or “not in a million years.” When Jesus was tempted for forty days and forty nights, it was a way of saying, “Jesus went through a long and difficult ordeal.”

We experience our own “forty days and forty nights” in different ways in our own lives. Sometimes we enter a period of fasting unintentionally—the events of life move us into a space of struggle and reflection. Other times, like during Lent, we are asked to think of ways in which we can purposively sacrifice in order to discern some spiritual truth.

1st Temptation:

Evil said to Jesus, “If you are truly the one who loves and is loved, then quench your hunger and turn this rock into food.”

Jesus said, “There is more to life than food—in fact, life and food itself flows from the very center of God, which is love.”

Do I lead a life of love? Do I love in order to quench my own desires or do I love in order to serve the world around me? Jesus reminds me that what flows from the love of God is far greater than food—it is love itself, which is the activity that binds all things together.

2nd Temptation:

Again, evil said to Jesus, “if you are truly the one who loves and is loved, throw yourself from the top of the temple, because the one who loves you will surely send you help, so that nothing will harm you.”

Jesus replied, “Do not tempt me with the path of ease, ignorance and excess, for the journey of work, understanding and contentment is the one that seeks love first.”

It is easy for me to worry about myself—it’s not hard to remain blind to the excess in my life and my own misplaced sense of entitlement. Do I trust in the right provision that flows from being centered in God, or do I work to secure my own end? Instead of creating for myself, how do I create for others?

3rd Temptation:

A third time, evil said to Jesus, “I will give you every/thing that is in the world to be had if you will only give yourself to me.”

Jesus turned from evil, saying, “I reject the path of destruction and hate! I will only give myself to God, and in so doing, will serve/love all that is in the world with me.”

Who has the ability to give me every/thing? In my ignorance, do I vainly seek it? To whom and what do I freely give my love?

The temptations remind me to allow love to work within me, so that in our experience of life we focus on the love of God in all creation, not just in ourselves.

"Why Bother?" An Ash Wednesday Reflection

by Susan Russell

It is Ash Wednesday once more – the entry point for yet another 40-day Lenten journey toward Easter. And today we hear again the words as familiar as their outward-and-visible signs etched on our foreheads: “Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.”

On this Ash Wednesday, as the liturgical season shifts from Epiphany to Lent, we are called to make a shift, too. Our focus shifts, as it does every year at this time, from stories about the outward manifestations of God's presence among us to a more interior place as we journey with Jesus on the road we know leads to Golgotha – to the cross – and ultimately, to the resurrection.

And so, on this Ash Wednesday, here is my annual advice for the journey ahead: Do not give up epiphanies for Lent!

Let us not become so inwardly focused that we forget to notice – to give thanks for – to respond to – those encounters we can and will have with the holy in the next 40 days. Let us not become so focused on our own “journey with Jesus” that we forget that as long as there are still strangers at the gate, walking humbly with our God is not enough: let us not forget that we are also called to do justice.

Called to do justice. During Lent? Really???? Yes. Really. And it’s not something Ed Bacon came up during a glory attack or an idea that’s exclusive to All Saints Church. It’s a call that was issued by Isaiah and incarnated by Jesus. It’s as old as the prophets and as urgent as this morning’s news … it’s a call to fast for justice:

Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up quickly.

The fast Isaiah calls us to isn’t about giving up Twitter or Starbucks or Girl Scout cookies for Lent … it’s about getting ANYTHING out of the way that gets in the way of our being aligned with God’s love, justice and compassion ... as we journey into these 40 days of Lent and beyond. It’s why we bother – not just with this service and these ashes this season of Lent. It’s why we bother to follow Jesus.

Let’s face it … you could all be doing something else with this hour at noontime … Eating lunch. Picking up dry cleaning. Going to the gym. Playing Farmville on Facebook. But you’re here. In this church. In this moment. Remembering that you are dust and to dust you shall return. Why bother?

It’s a bit like a question I got on my blog this week in response to Sunday’s sermon:

So if we're all going to heaven anyway, what's the point of going to Mass or even bothering to have a relationship with Christ and following any commandments at all? Why bother?

It’s a classic question and one I’ve had on my heart getting ready for today. What is the answer we give to those who wonder why we’re here … who wonder why we bother. Lots of people don’t. Bother. With Lent. There’ll be a lot more people in church on Easter Sunday than there are on Ash Wednesday. And there are even more who have dismissed the “whole Christian thing” because it was reduced for them to “follow these rules and you’ll get into heaven” – and condemns to “the Lake of Fire” anybody who doesn’t. Follow the rules. The way you do.

Why bother? Here’s my short answer:

We bother because we gather here today not to try to earn God’s love by following rules but to give thanks for God’s love that transcends all boundaries. We bother because we follow Jesus not in HOPE that he’s our ticket into heaven but in RESPONSE to the promise he incarnates that nothing – even death – can separate us from the love of God. And freed from that fear of death we are free to live life abundantly … and to risk journeying into the wildernesses that cry out for the love, justice and compassion that God calls us to live out in the world.

We bother because there are many “wildernesses” into which we are called this Lent 201l: If we are to be a people who have bread to share with the hungry we must challenge those who would balance our budgets on the backs of the least of these.

We bother because we serve the God whose fast is “to let the oppressed go free” – and so we continue to speak out about protecting family values that value ALL families.

We bother because in order to choose the fast Isaiah offers us this Lent we must continue to undo the thongs of the yokes of racism AND sexism that continue to keep this country and this church from being all that God would have them be.

We bother because living up to our baptismal covenant calls us to advocate for just immigration policies that will truly respect the dignity of every human being.

We bother because today we choose again to follow the one who calls us to journey with Him into those wildernesses -- bearing the Good News of a God who loved us enough to become one of us in order to show us how to love one another.

It is Ash Wednesday once more – the entry point for yet another 40-day Lenten journey toward Easter. And now IS the acceptable time. May we be given the grace to choose the fast our God calls us to choose … trusting that the One who calls us into this wilderness will be with us and bless us on the journey.