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.

Easter Sunday

Matthew (28:1–10)

After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb. There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. The angel’s appearance was like lightning, with garments white as snow. The guards shook with fear and fell as though they were dead.

The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell the disciples: ‘He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.’ Now I have told you.”

So the women hurried away from the tomb, with awe and great joy, and ran to carry the good news to the disciples. Suddenly Jesus met them. “Shalom,” he said. They came to him, embraced his feet and worshiped him. Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid. Go and tell the disciples to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”


Reflection -- by Zelda Kennedy

Last year, a member of our community invited me to the Crystal Cathedral to experience their Easter pageant performance. It was grand! Yet, it wasn’t the first time I experienced a major production of Easter with people dressed in period costumes and with real animals. In North Carolina it’s done on an outside stage. The reenactment of the crucifixion seems so real that, for some, it is almost unbearable to witness. However, for me, it was always just a performance.

Therefore, as I watched the performance at the Crystal Cathedral, my reaction to the story surprised me. I was surprised by my emotions, which were traumatic. During the crucifixion, while listening to the performer sing, “Were you there, when they crucified my Lord,” a profound sadness that seemed to reach the core of my being, overpowered me. It was an experience that continued to haunt me during my ministry. While reading Trauma and Grace, by Dr. Serene Jones, I learned that “trauma is an act of overwhelming violence that is visceral.” Finally, I had words to help me understand my feelings. I could also imagine what the followers of Jesus might have felt at Calvary, and the days following.

Therefore, I want you to visualize Mary Magdalene and the other Mary on their way to the tomb with trauma still fresh in their minds and bodies. I want you imagine their sadness and perhaps confusion. I want you to visualize them wondering just what were they going to do at the tomb? They certainly could not enter the tomb because guards and a large stone blocked the door.

The scripture tells us they were met by an angel, who reported that Jesus, who was so horribly crucified, was gone – resurrected and, while that is the Easter message, this scripture tells us much more. It tells us that the very women, who were on the margins of their society, were now at the center of the gospel message. Jesus, still radical and countercultural, chose them to be the bearers of the good news! Jesus chose them to disclose the message of Easter.

One of my colleagues once preached, “Easter is not bunnies and butterflies. Easter is about a body that somehow got loose. . . Easter is about a Jesus, who while alive was so radical, so countercultural that the prevailing culture killed him. He is not flow, he’s counterflow. Easter is about a Jesus, who spoke about forgiving one’s enemies as a condition of being forgiven ourselves, so that we may be made whole . . . of treating everyone with respect. Easter is about continuing the ministry of Jesus – feeding the hungry, helping the poor, visiting the sick, caring for and protecting the children and others in need.”

We shout at the Easter vigil, “Alleluia, the Lord is risen; the Lord is risen indeed,” because the Jesus, who was radical, countercultural and risen, invites us to be the same. So, I ask you to experience this Easter as a time of promise and great expectation as we live into our resurrection and offer the following excerpt from the Franciscan Blessing.

May God bless you that you remember
we are all called
to continue Jesus’ redemptive work
of love, forgiveness and healing
in God’s place, in and through God’s name,
in God’s Spirit, continually creating
and breathing new life and grace
Into everything and everyone we touch.

During Holy week, consider one or all of the following:

¨ Be more kind to family and friends.

¨ Forgive - yourself and others.

¨ Work toward helping to shape this community, city, nation.

¨ Prepare for an amazing Easter!

Maundy Thursday

John (13:1–15)

Before the feast of the Passover, Jesus realized that the hour had come for him to pass from this world to God. He had always loved his own in this world, but now he showed how perfect this love was. The Devil had already convinced Judas Iscariot, begot of Simon, to betray Jesus. So during supper, Jesus – knowing that God had put all things into his own hands, and that he had come from God and was returning to God – rose from the table, took off his clothes and wrapped a towel around his waist. He then poured water into a basin, and began to wash the disciples’ feet, and dry them with the towel around his waist. When Jesus came to Simon Peter, Peter said, “Rabbi, you are not going to wash my feet, are you?”

Jesus answered, “You do not realize what I am doing right now, but later you will understand.” Peter replied, “You will never wash my feet!” Jesus answered, “If I do not wash your feet, you have no part with me.” Simon Peter said to Jesus, “Then, Rabbi, not only my feet, but my hands and my head as well!” Jesus said, “One who has bathed is clean all over and only need to wash their feet – and you are clean, though not every one of you.” For Jesus knew who was to betray him. That is why he said, “Not all of you are clean.”

After washing their feet, Jesus put his clothes back on and returned to the table. He said to them, “Do you understand what I have done for you? You call me ‘Teacher,’ and ‘Sovereign’ – and rightly, for so I am. If I then – your Teacher and Sovereign – have washed your feet, you should wash each other’s feet. I have given you an example, that you should do as I have done to you.”

Reflection by Susan Russell

So what’s up with the footwashing?

One commentary I read reaches this conclusion: “Jesus was showing us that we are all equal when we gather around the table of the Lord. If the Creator could wash the feet of the created, should not the creatures wash the feet of one another in equality? And if Jesus saw himself in his creatures, shouldn’t we see him in each other?”

Does that mean we’re supposed to REALLY wash each other’s feet? Well, let’s look again at our criteria for primary sacraments in the church: We do it because Jesus told us to. (“given by Christ to His Church” in the loftier words of the catechism)

Baptism in Matthew 28: Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son & Holy Spirit.

Eucharist in Luke 22: And he took bread and when he had given thanks he broke it and gave it to them saying, “This is my body which is given for you. DO THIS in remembrance of me.”

And in Footwashing in today's gospel: John 13: So, then, if I — your Lord and teacher — have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example that you also should do as I have done to you.

Could it be that part of the reason the “kingdom” hasn’t come yet is that the church missed the boat on what Jesus intended to be another primary sacrament “given by Christ to his Church”: the sacrament of servanthood? Sadly, examples are all too easy to find -- such as a newspaper article about a church edict forbidding women and children to participate in ceremonial foot washings on Maundy Thursday. It declared that the act of foot washing was symbolic of Jesus choosing an all male priesthood — therefore the ceremony would consist of twelve men from any congregation — no women and no children.

Can you imagine our Lord saying to his disciples gathered on the night before he was handed over to suffering and death: “A new commandment I give you: exclude women and children.”

I can’t imagine that – instead I imagine Jesus reading that news report, shaking his head in discouragement and saying, “What part of love one another don’t you understand?”

The priesthood of all the faithful: that’s the calling we ALL gather on Maundy Thursday to celebrate as we share with each other the bread and wine made holy. The priesthood of all the faithful — ALL the beloved people of God: not just the ones with white plastic around their necks and seminary degrees hanging on their walls.

And the more we remember that the closer we come to the kingdom.

During the week:

Can we – in this “out-of-the-ordinary” week – dare to claim that extraordinary calling?

Can we – each and every one of us – believe that God will give us the grace to obey this New Commandment – to walk in love as He loved us and gave Himself for us?

Can we even imagine what the church would look like if the “sacrament of servanthood” became a reality?

Palm Sunday

Luke 22: 14–30 (31–23:56)

When the hour had come, Jesus took a place at the table with the apostles. Jesus said to them, “I have longed to eat this Passover with you before I suffer. I tell you, I will not eat it again until everything is fulfilled in the reign of God.” Then taking a cup of wine, Jesus gave thanks and said, “Take this and share it among you. I tell you, I will not drink wine from now on, until the reign of God comes.” Jesus took bread and gave thanks for it broke it and gave it to them saying, “This is my body, which will be given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”

Jesus did the same with the cup after supper and said, “This cup is the New Covenant in my blood, which will be poured out for you. Look! The hand of my betrayer is at this table with me. The Chosen One is following the appointed course. But woe to the person by whom that One is betrayed!” Then they began to argue among themselves as to which of them would do such a deed. Another dispute arose among them about who would be regarded as the greatest.

But Jesus said to them, “Earthly rulers domineer over their people. Those who exercise authority over them are called their ‘benefactors.’ This must not happen with you. Let the greatest among you be like the youngest. Let the leader among you become the follower. For who is the greater? The one who reclines at a meal, or the one who serves it? Is it not the one reclining at table? Yet here I am among you as the one who serves you.

You are the ones who have stood by me faithfully in trials. Just as God has given me dominion, so I give it to you. In my reign, you will eat and drink at my table, and you will sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel.

Reflection by Lori Kizzia

This is the Passion, THE Passion, Christ’s passion. It is a story that we speak as prayer each time we share the Eucharistic meal, more familiar than any human story and yet, it always overwhelms and surprises me, leaving a profound sadness and a wholeness of being which can only come from embracing life in the shadow of looming death. Approaching one’s own death or the death of a loved one (here, our beloved Jesus) creates a transformation in us which fills every moment with sacred clarity. Each word becomes a sonnet, each breath a psalm. The beautiful and fragile nature of life itself becomes vibrantly clear in the face of death. Every hour becomes a festival celebration. When Jesus calls us to the table with him for a last meal before he dies, he is calling us into a moment such as this, highly charged, passionate and urgent, full of insight. Here, in the Upper Room, death pounding at the door, he offers what is for me, his most powerful teaching on the meaning of human experience.

After breaking and blessing the Passover bread and offering his companions the wine glass, Jesus confirms that someone at the dinner party will betray him into death. His companions argue about whom it might be, accusing each other and no doubt attempting to escape the blame. Absurdly, they escalate the argument into a question of who among them might be considered the greatest. Jesus responds...

“Let the greatest among you be like the youngest. Let the leader among you become the follower. For who is the greater? The one who reclines at a meal or the one who serves it? Is it not the one reclining at table? Yet here I am among you as the one who serves you.”

Jesus, the one who serves us, not Lord Jesus, not Jesus the Savior of the World, not the King of Kings, but Jesus the servant, here in the last hours of his life, calling us into the greatness of serving one another. Some scholars suggest that this moment is added by the gospel writer of Luke, to reflect the fulfillment of a messianic prophecy. Maybe so, maybe not. Either way, a story this powerful doesn’t need to be factual to be true. Jesus calling us into the service of God’s Kingdom is revealed here as a stunning, unavoidable truth.

Contemporary filmmakers and Renaissance painters have it all wrong when it comes to depicting this scene in the gospel drama. Jesus does not elevate himself to the starring role. In casting the Last Supper, Jesus takes the role of servant-waiter, not the celebrity guest of honor, and he expects us to do likewise if we truly want to love and serve God.

There is nothing I desire more in life than to serve God. I often pray a single prayer, “God use me,” to express my desire to be God’s presence to those in need or pain. Yet for many of us, particularly those who have experienced oppression or abuse because of our target status in society, there is a perceivable tension between the role of servant and the abuses of servitude. It can be very difficult to assume the role of servant in a society that demeans and minimizes women, children, people of color, immigrants.

Those who serve are often treated unjustly, paid unfairly, and used by a system which doesn’t value their humanity. The working class poor, those who labor without documents, children who are forced to work adult jobs, those who are put in harms way through their service, all of these servants are denied the dignities that we all deserve as members of the human family.

Here, at the Last Supper, sacred ground we visit together every week, Jesus calls us to serve the servants in our lives and in ourselves. He challenges us to speak, advocate and struggle for justice as acts of love. He calls us to dismantle social structures of oppression and abuse, and to take big risks when need be to accomplish this. Arrest, torture, death—none of these could stop him from serving, and I ask myself daily what am I willing to risk to serve others today?

The Passion of Christ is narrowly described as Jesus’ suffering, death and resurrection. But Jesus’ larger passion was his passion for humanity, for the work of bringing God’s Kingdom to Earth. His passion was his love for God and for those he served, for the servant disciple in each of us. Each time I open my heart or stand in solidarity with someone, each time I lend my voice to demand justice, offer a simple act of kindness or love someone who challenges me, I become a part of Jesus’ story.

This commitment to serve others, even when it is difficult or painful, is the deeper passion of Christ. And it is through this passion that we are lifted out of the abuses of servitude, healed by Jesus’ perfect love for us, and invited into the knowledge that every moment is sacred and every human interaction is an opportunity to touch, know, and serve the Divine.


During the Week
Look for Jesus in each person who serves you, restaurant servers, childcare workers, teachers, postal workers and gardeners. Smile from your heart and acknowledge the divine presence in each person.

Make a list throughout the week, of all who serve you and your family, and all those you serve. Create a litany of gratitude for each one in your own words; offer these thanksgivings to God in your daily prayers.

Offer yourself intentionally as a servant to the Christ in all people. Go out of your way to serve someone this week. Lend a hand to an elderly neighbor by taking out the trash or bringing a treat. Surprise your co-workers with a thank you note for great team work, appreciate your family with extra time and attention, say more than just thank you to every person who helps or serves you.

Finally, offer your gratitude to Jesus himself. Speak to him in your heart; share your joy and thanksgiving for his life and witness and for his constant service to you on the journey of your life.

LENT V

John 12:1–8

Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There the family gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) Jesus said, “Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.”


Reflection by Sharalyn Hamilton

To come to Jerusalem for the Passover was an act of courage for Jesus. The authorities had made him somewhat of an outlaw, a wanted man (John 11.) Like Jesus, great crowds of people would have journeyed to Jerusalem for Passover, so many that some would need to stay in the nearby countryside such as Bethany. At the home of his dear friends, Jesus appears to have taken lodging and a meal. Reminiscent of their roles in earlier passages, Martha, a practical woman was serving Jesus. Clearly she showed her love through the work of her hands. Then there is Mary, the one who is characterized as loving him most; sitting at his feet and hanging on his every word while Martha cooked and served. In this passage Mary shows the extravagance of her love by giving her most precious belonging. Immediately Judas tries to shame her for her extravagance, but Jesus’ response is “Let her alone!” and he goes on to say that while the poor will always be with them, (inferring that they should always be cared for) they will not always have Jesus. Some have said that Mary was the first believer. She acted upon her belief in who he was and what was to come of him. This story is often referred to as an anointing and slightly different variations are found in each of the gospels.

In the ancient Jewish world, relationship was developed and somewhat defined by the gift you presented to someone. If you wanted to create a stir, you gave an extravagant gift! And Mary did. Immediately it called into question her judgment and the appropriateness of the gift, but Jesus understood it was her best, coming from a place of abundance rooted in love rather than a place of scarcity rooted in fear.

One of my great privileges is to witness extravagant gifts and the great joy experienced by the giver. It is a relationship building experience, not necessarily with another human being but between the giver and this church and ultimately between the giver and his or her God. The extravagance of the gift has little or nothing to do with the dollar value of the gift. One day I stood at the stewardship table while a man of what appeared to be very little means, calculated his pledge. If he gave fifty cents a week to the operating budget, could he also afford ten cents a week to the building project. He did the math and joyfully presented his pledge. He was now in the deepest kind of relationship with his church, He had given an extravagant gift from the resources of his life and labor. A few weeks later I was present when someone gave a twenty-five thousand dollar unsolicited gift, just because she had been moved by the worship and the witness of this church. She was moved to be extravagant, to say I believe in what is taking place here and I want to be a part of it. I have no doubt that these gifts are an expression of love, appreciation and gratitude. I have no doubt that the givers blessed themselves in the giving of these gifts.

There is a contemporary song, by singer Kris Allen entitled, Live Like We’re Dying. It is a cheesy pop song that reminds people to do what is most important right now. “Yeah we gotta start lookin’ at the hand of the time we’ve been given here. This is all we got and we gotta start pickin’ it. Every second counts on a clock that’s tickin’. Gotta live like we’re dying.”

I have spent the last couple weeks sitting at my dying father’s bedside watching the stream of people say goodbye. Like everyone who has experienced this period of closure, I wanted to be extravagant and give my most precious gift, my time. It felt so good. I called into question why it took this moment to prompt some of that extravagance. When we know someone is dying it changes everything and yet aren’t we all dying even as we live?

During the Week

In the week to come, live like you're dying.

• Who needs to hear from you and you from them?
• With whom do you want to create relationship through a gift or sharing a meal?
• Where does fear and scarcity need to give way to love and abundance?
• What is my most precious, most extravagant gift to give to God’s world?