Water Daily: April 2022

4-29-22 - Feed My Lambs

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

Sunday mornings could be a lot messier in our churches had Jesus added the words, “Do this in remembrance of me” after serving his disciples breakfast on the beach.“Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and did the same with the fish.” That action no doubt had some resonance for the disciples, reminding them not only of their last supper with Jesus a few weeks’ prior, but also that picnic on a hillside, when five loaves and two fish fed thousands.

Jesus does get serious after the fish-fry: When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.”

Jesus asks this question of Peter three times, and each time Peter answers, with increasing frustration, “You know I love you.” Jesus addresses him not by the nickname he had given him, “Petros,” but by his given name, “Simon bar Jonah.” Perhaps Jesus doesn't want to resume the familiar appellation until they’ve dealt with the business of Peter’s denying him the night he was arrested. That would account for the triple interrogation, inviting Peter to affirm his love as many times as he had denied knowing his Lord.

But Jesus has more on his mind than reconciliation. With each “Do you love me?” “Yes, you know I love you,” he adds a command: “Feed my lambs.” “Tend my sheep.” “Feed my sheep.” He predicts a martyr’s death for his beloved friend, and ends the conversation the way he began it by the Sea of Galilee three years earlier, “Follow me.” At that time, Peter and the others followed with excitement and anticipation borne of ignorance and hope. Now they know so much better what it means to follow Christ, to the cross and beyond. Yet their job description is simpler too: Feed my lambs.

There can be no following Jesus, no loving Jesus without some outward manifestation of that love. Sometimes that involves physically feeding those who hunger, and the world has no shortage of people who need food. Yet I don’t think Jesus was talking only about physical hunger. He was talking about tending the spiritually hungry, the weak, confused, misguided, vulnerable – all of us, at some time or other. He was inviting us – commanding us – to join him in taking care of humanity, one human at a time.

Who are the lambs for whom you’ve been given oversight? Do you feel called to tend some whom you don’t know yet? And are you letting Jesus feed you? Through whom? A hungry shepherd will be tempted to eat the sheep…

We are all sheep in Christ’s flock, and we are all shepherds who join him in caring for other sheep. The feasting with Jesus on the beach (or wherever our latest feast with Jesus took place…) is of a piece with the feeding of others. Who are they and where do we find them? Well, Jesus made that easy too. “Follow me,” he said.

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4-28-22 - Bring Some of Your Catch

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

Are there sweeter words in the New Testament than these, “Come and have breakfast?” The disciples’ encounter with the risen Christ kept getting better and better. First, they made an enormous catch of fish. Then they realized Jesus himself was on the shore. And when they landed, they found another delightful surprise:

When they had gone ashore, they saw a charcoal fire there, with fish on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them; and though there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.”

What an invitation after a sleepless, fish-less night. What a reversal of circumstances in just a short time. Why did Jesus wait until morning to help them out? Why does God allow us to endure waiting or suffering or not knowing? Could it be that it strengthens or softens us, or makes us readier to receive the gift when it comes? A mystery for another time.

What matters now is that the fish have swarmed, the nets have filled, the Lord has come, and these hot and hungry fisherman are invited to a feast, right there on the beach. And they're not only passive guests – they are invited to help make the feast. Perhaps the most important words in this passage are “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.” God provided the catch, allowed them to participate in gathering it, and then asked them to bring some to Jesus for the celebration. Jesus provided the bread; they were invited to offer some of the fish.

So it is in our lives – God provides the feast and invites us to participate in gathering it, and then to bring some of it together for the celebration. That's what our weekly offering is, and our gathering at the eucharistic feast (of which the offering is the first part). That's our whole life in God – a life of participation in God’s mission in which the Spirit leads us to the fields, allows us to help gather the harvest, and then to bring some of that harvest together to celebrate.

What are the “big catches,” or areas of abundance in your life? And where do you feel Jesus inviting you to breakfast? And what might you bring to that feast?

We don’t see a “mighty catch of fish” every day. But what if it’s there, unnoticed? Might we say, by faith, “Yes! The fish have swarmed, my nets have filled, the Lord is here, and I am invited to a feast, right here.” Then we might have to look around, all around, and ask, “Okay, where are the filled nets?” I bet each of us could name at least one area of life where our nets are filled. That’s a good start.

And then, “Where do I bring my fish? Where is the feast Jesus is inviting me to contribute to today?” We can trust that he has brought the Bread of Life, his own self. He invites us to bring some of our fish.

4-27-22 - Who Is That Guy?

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

We don’t always recognize God’s activity in our lives until after the fact – after an accident has been avoided, “coincidental” timing confirmed, an unexpected encounter opened into new opportunities. And we rarely experience God where we expect God to be. Jesus’ disciples certainly didn’t expect him to show up on a beach by the Sea of Tiberias. So they didn’t recognize him – until they saw his handiwork, which they had witnessed (in Luke’s account) at the beginning of their story with Jesus.

So they cast the net, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish. That disciple whom Jesus loved said to Peter, “It is the Lord!” When Simon Peter heard that it was the Lord, he put on some clothes, for he was naked, and jumped into the sea. But the other disciples came in the boat, dragging the net full of fish, for they were not far from the land, only about a hundred yards off.

It's amusing that the naked Peter puts on clothes to jump into the water – it just wouldn’t do to greet his risen Lord and Savior in his birthday suit. And once they realize it is Jesus on the shore, all of them hurry to get there, though it must have taken a lot of muscle to pull those heavy nets. And then someone ignored the crucified and risen Lord in order to count the fish, for John records there were 153 of them (fishermen, like baseball fans, do love their stats…) John also mentions that, “though there were so many, the net was not torn,” perhaps to emphasize that God’s work is always to make things whole.

Because we don’t expect to see Jesus around and about in our lives, we don't always notice where he is. But we can learn to notice. Becoming attuned to where Jesus is, where the Holy Spirit is moving and shaking things up, is essential for those who want to be part of the Jesus movement. We are called to join him where he is already working, or to prepare the place where he wants to come next. We don’t have to do anything on our own. So we need to learn to recognize him, even before the “evidence” appears.

This is a habit of the heart we can cultivate as we do any other important activity or attitude. After a while, our spiritual sense becomes more acute, but at first we may have to work at it. Perhaps at the beginning of each day we can review our plans and pray about where we plan to join Jesus or want him to join us. And at the end of the day review where we’ve been, and write down where we realize in retrospect – or knew at the time – that he was present in some way.

How might he be present? He might have spoken through someone or we might have found our attention drawn to something life-giving. We might have felt a peace or a holy urgency, or found ourselves compelled to draw near someone because of a gift they had or a need they manifested. Sometime we know he was there because he’s now gone, as happened to the disciples in Emmaus.

Notice. Name it. Write it down. Review it at the end of the week. In time, we will become so accustomed to Jesus being around, we won’t need miracles to get our attention.

4-26-22 - God On the Sidelines

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

Simon Peter was a professional fisherman before Jesus called him from his nets. He knew his way around a boat, a net, a lake, a school of fish. He knew how to do this – except that night, nothing. All night, no fish. And then some yahoo on the shore tries to tell him how do to it.

Just after daybreak, Jesus stood on the beach; but the disciples did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to them, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” They answered him, “No.” He said to them, “Cast the net to the right side of the boat, and you will find some.” So they cast it, and now they were not able to haul it in because there were so many fish.

I can imagine the language in that boat at this suggestion. “We’ve cast the nets on every *&@#%* side of the boat! Who is this guy?” And then perhaps more colorful language yet as their nets inexplicably become so full they could hardly move the boat.

Many of us have areas of our lives in which we don’t think we need God’s assistance. I often hear people say, “I don’t need to bother God with that!” or “We’re not at the point of needing prayer yet…” as though we're to deploy the “big guns” only as a last resort.

But God doesn’t want to be on the sidelines of our lives – God wants to be right smack dab in the middle of our work, rest, relationships, joys, frustrations, questions, convictions. Indeed, God wants to be working with us and through us. And could it be that the One who made all universes knows a thing or two about teaching, medicine, tax preparation, fundraising, marketing, finance, law, or whatever it is we do for a living? What if we invited God’s presence at regular intervals into our work days? Someone I know was facing a tense work meeting – and remembered to invite Jesus. The meeting went better than she could have imagined, and the relationship with that co-worker is prospering.

The Holy Spirit can help us in all our relationships, our stresses, our habits. And – surprise! – God can help us in our churches and ministries. We don’t have to put prayer and worship on one side and the “work of the church” on the other. It’s all of a piece. It’s all holy work, as we allow the Holy Spirit into it.

What is most frustrating to you in your life right now? Where do you feel stuck, jammed, not moving, not growing, in the dark, out to sea? Could it be that Jesus is nearby? Might he have a word to you? Have you asked his guidance? That can be scary – what if he doesn’t answer? Then we ask again.

Jesus said something about wanting us to be fruitful, so I’m guessing he will have a word to guide us. Maybe he’s already speaking it through someone we don’t want to listen to – and that might include our own deepest selves.

What if he’s already given us the answer? What “expertise” do we need to let go of in order to hear it?

4-25-22 - No Turning Back

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

This week we get to explore the most fun of all of Jesus’ recorded resurrection appearances – his beach-side fishing lesson/breakfast combo. It starts out low-key – Peter decides to go fishing, and six of his fellow disciples join him (two unnamed… I don’t know why the evangelist John, who later tells us exactly how many fish were in the nets, couldn’t be bothered to find out who those two were...)

After these things Jesus showed himself again to the disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he showed himself in this way. Gathered there together were Simon Peter, Thomas called the Twin, Nathanael of Cana in Galilee, the sons of Zebedee, and two others of his disciples. Simon Peter said to them, “I am going fishing.” They said to him, “We will go with you.” They went out and got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing.

Why did Simon Peter decide to go fishing? Let’s review the tape: Jesus has risen from the dead. He has appeared at least twice in the locked room where the disciples have been holing up. He has spoken peace to them, breathed the Spirit upon them, and commissioned and sent them to bring forgiveness and release to the world. Only, they haven’t gone. He did all that on his first visit, and a week later they are still in the same room. He has also appeared to a few on the road to Emmaus, and in Galilee, and a few other times not spelled out in the gospels. But no one seems to know what to do next.

From what we know of Peter, he did not do well with inaction. He is a man of strength and impulse. Thomas is shown in the story of Lazarus to be action-oriented and brave. Yet they don’t seem to know how to move forward in the climate in which they find themselves. Jesus is risen; that’s incomprehensible and wonderful, all at once. It also raises the risk levels –the authorities who executed Jesus might well want to stamp out his following. It’s not safe outside, yet they can’t stay in that room forever.

So Peter and his buddies go back to what they know. At least they can get out of Jerusalem, get out on the water they know and love, maybe even make a few bucks if they get a good catch. But they don’t catch a damn thing. Jesus had promised to make them fishers of men, and now they don't seem to know how to catch fish anymore! The movement of God is always forward, not back.

Have you ever tried going back to an old pastime, habit, relationship, milieu? It never works. The pull of the familiar is strong, but we worship the One who said, “I am making all things new.” (Rev. 21:5) We do need to get out of the locked rooms of our fear and distress, but before we go back to the last place we felt comfortable, it is good to ask God, “Where are you inviting me to join you next?” We can look around to see where God is at work, doing the things we know God does – healing, feeding, restoring, renewing, reconciling – and join God there. We can discern where our energy seems to rise, where we feel the winds of the Spirit blowing us.

Peter and his friends thought they were killing time, waiting for God to summon them. Little did they know that God was right there, inviting them to see the familiar in a whole new light. God is always up to something new – what is it in your neighborhood?

4-22-22 - The New Earth

You can listen to this reflection here.

One of the passages assigned for Easter Sunday is Isaiah’s prophetic vision of the new heavens and the new earth God is bringing into being, a promise which came irrevocably into view when Jesus walked out of that tomb Easter morning. It is a fitting vision to explore on this Earth Day 2022.

God speaks through the prophet: I am about to create new heavens and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating…

He says of the people of Israel, They shall build houses and inhabit them; they shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit. They shall not build and another inhabit; they shall not plant and another eat; for like the days of a tree shall the days of my people be, and my chosen shall long enjoy the work of their hands.

This is a vision of a humanity in harmony with the created order, of people growing enough food for their own harvest, not laboring on factory farms for low wages. It suggests a community with low rates of infant mortality, and longevity for the aged – and for trees! Even predator-prey relationships are brought into harmony: The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, the lion shall eat straw like the ox.

The promise of Easter is that this vision is already coming to pass, and comes the more quickly the more we engage in the faithful work of bringing it into being. That means faith as much as work – believing that God is in the business of reclaiming, restoring and renewing all of creation to wholeness in Christ, and participating in that mission wherever and whenever we feel the Spirit’s nudges.

Does this mean that, because God is bringing this new thing into being, we need not fear the ravages of climate change? No, it does not mean that, any more than God’s promise of healing means that we stop worrying about cancer or Covid, as though people had stopped dying. God still asks us to participate in bringing God’s power to bear on situations. That means exercising faith in prayer and exercising grace in how we live. God’s gift of free will continues to mean that we live with the consequences of our choices and those of others. AND God’s gift of faith and the Holy Spirit’s power mean that we become better able to make choices that bring healing and restoration rather than continued degradation to this earth and its plants and trees and birds and animals.

Where do you want your grandchildren to live? In an earth increasing ransacked for its resources, with rising sea levels and extreme weather, floods and drought, fires and famine? Or in that new earth where there is plenty as people share their resources, and mutual thriving among populations and the natural world?

We can start by cultivating a spirit of gratitude and respect for the life around us, ALL the life around us, and living in sacred relationship with all of it. As we do that, we become far less willing to see it ravaged and wasted, and much more eager to help bring that New Earth into view. Then may this prophecy come to pass: They shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, says the Lord.

4-21-22 - Life Through Believing

You can listen to this reflection here.

Where do you get life? I don’t mean conception and birth, I mean what quickens your pulse day to day? What causes energy to rise in you, excitement to tinge your voice? What – or who – could you talk about all day long if anyone would listen? That’s one way to discern where we find life.

Have you ever thought you could get life through believing? Believing seems a fairly passive activity – and yet it may just be the most courageous action we can take in a disbelieving world. We learn at the end of this week’s gospel reading that the reason John wrote his gospel was so that we might come to believe and have life:

Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.

Jesus’ disciples came to believe he had risen from the dead because he stood in front of them; he surprised them on roads and at tables; he made breakfast for them on a beach. Though they did not really act on this knowledge until the Spirit filled them with power at Pentecost, they had the conviction of their experience, and ultimately died witnessing to that truth.

We have to believe on less tangible evidence – yet as we allow it to accumulate, as we really start to list all the “signs” of God’s power and love we have witnessed and experienced, we too can come to believe that Jesus is the Anointed One, the Son of God. And as we begin to exercise spiritual power in his name we find such abundant life, and more evidence piles up.

John says he wrote about the signs of Jesus’ presence so that his readers would come to believe. What if we started talking more often about the evidence we’ve seen of God’s movement in the world, in our lives? How many might come to believe – or at least, explore Jesus for themselves? Think of the impact John’s Gospel has had on the world. Just one of our stories might change someone’s life, and allow them to have eternal life through believing. Which one will you tell first?

4-20-22 - Blind Faith

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

We often associate faith with vision; insight, perception, illumination are all words connected to sight. But think about it: true faith means being willing to live blind, to trust in what we cannot see.

But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

Thomas was strong and courageous, devoted and steadfast. Yet he was short on faith – and until he was willing to become blind, he would never see.

Those who lack physical vision need to trust in many things – helpers, service animals, canes, the goodwill of the people around them. Many also report that, in the absence of sight, other senses become more acute. A sight-impaired person might feel a disturbance in the air that tells them someone has come into or left a room, or recognize someone by their scent, or find their hearing sharpened.

So it is with the life of faith. We voluntarily put our trust in things and people we cannot see, and as we do, we find our spiritual senses become more keenly developed. Maybe we become more sensitive to people in pain, or we can sense the presence of evil more acutely. As we spend time in prayer, we come to recognize the presence of Jesus, God as Father, the Holy Spirit. And as we learn to step out in faith when we feel the Spirit nudge us to do or say something, we often find those nudges become more frequent and vivid. We are learning to walk by faith, not by sight.

Jesus gave Thomas a break – he showed up again and let him see him, touch his wounds. “Do not doubt, but believe,” he said. And then he added a word for us: Jesus said to him, “Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”

I would go so far as to say we cannot grow in faith if we are not willing to become blind, to stop relying so heavily on what we can see with our eyes and perceive with our minds, to truly trust the instinctual life of the Spirit in and around us. What we perceive with our physical senses sometimes causes our faith to falter – we see the pain of the world, the ongoing illness of those for whom we have prayed, and that “evidence” can shut us down. Jesus invites us to lean instead on what cannot be seen, what can only be believed. Only then will our vision become sharp enough to see God.

4-19-22 - Our Super-Power

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

If you could be granted a super-power, what would it be? The ability to fly? Become invisible at will? Transform into another kind of being? Heal people just by touching them?

According to the Gospels, some of those super-powers may be ours some day, if the properties of Jesus’ resurrection body have anything to tell us. And some of those super-powers are already ours by faith through the gift of the Holy Spirit. But the first super-power Jesus conferred upon his disciples when he returned to them Easter night was one we might not think to ask for – the power to forgive.

Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.”

This is the first gift of the Spirit mentioned in the Gospels. It is a power that can bring freedom and peace. And, like many super-powers, it can be dangerous if abused - or neglected. The saints of God have the authority to forgive, to set free those who have caused harm to themselves or others. And the church (aka, the saints of God) has the authority to withhold forgiveness, to keep people locked in the consequences of the harm they’ve caused. When the church forgets it has been given this authority, when it either devolves into self-righteous condemnation of others, or a wishy-washy "no problem, God loves you" sentimentality that ignores the real toxicity of sin, we end up with a whole lot of stuckness clogging our wheels, impeding our progress.

We can see the fruits of unforgiveness writ large in the American body politic today. Many who claim the mantle of Christ seem to have gone out of the forgiveness business altogether, preferring to label and demonize, objectify and divide. Indeed, there are few temptations more corrosive than righteous indignation – it can fuel our anger and quell our compassion and point us inward. When large swaths of the population stop talking to – or listening to – other large groups, we become polarized and paralyzed. And when some do this in the name of Christ, the church is weakened.

We have received the Holy Spirit – in baptism, in communion, in prayer, in action. Before we seek the splashier gifts of the Spirit, what if we focus on our calling to be agents of forgiveness? I once read an interview with Thich Nhat Hanh, the Buddhist spiritual teacher who died recently, on the subject of forgiveness. He said we have to deal with anger before we can forgive – and one way to deal with our anger is to cultivate compassion for those who are causing harm. We can ask God to show us why they have become that way, what unhealed wounds they are operating out of. And we ask God to show us the same about ourselves.

The super-power to forgive – or not – has been given to us. Will we use it for good?

4-18-22 - Fear and Rejoicing

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

The Big Day is over. Put away the Easter bonnets and all those lilies – we’re back to regular life. (And if you’re clergy, you’re in the Easter Monday brain fog of exhaustion…). Christ is risen? Oh yeah, Alleluia.

Only, it’s not over. In church time Easter goes on for seven weeks – seven weeks to begin to comprehend what those Alleluias are all about. And in Gospel time, it’s still Easter Day, still that First Day of the week, First Day of the new creation, First Day of forever. And Jesus’ disciples are not celebrating; they’re terrified.

When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jewish leaders, Jesus came and stood among them and said, “Peace be with you.” After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord.

They may have begun to wrap their minds around the fact that Jesus appeared to be very much alive, inexplicably, miraculously. But they certainly haven’t figured out how. And his risen-ness presents a more immediate problem: now they are at even greater risk. They were already anxious – witness Peter’s haste to disavow his friendship with Jesus after his arrest. But now they are truly scared. The authorities who put Jesus to death will not welcome these developments. They might well want to stamp out any hint of this Jesus movement, and eliminate all witnesses.

Into this turmoil, Jesus appears. Not through the door. Not through a window. He is just suddenly there, standing among them, speaking peace to them, showing them his wounds.

So it can be for us, as we can become aware of him. When we’re in the midst of turmoil or terror, malady or malaise, sometimes we forget that Jesus can get into the room. We think we have to invite him, or worse, that we have to get our act together before he’ll drop by. But he just shows up, speaks peace upon us and upon our circumstances, and shows us his wounds like a calling card, a calling card that says, “I know a bit about suffering. I know what it’s like to be alone and forsaken. I have not forgotten you, I will never leave you or forsake you. You can find healing for your wounds in mine.”

In what situation in your life might you need to recall Jesus’ presence? Pray to become aware of where he is in that room. Talk to him, tell him what you’re going through, listen for his responses. Receive his peace, for it is hard won and it sticks.

The disciples found their terror turned to rejoicing as they realized he was truly alive among them. Five minutes earlier they would been unable to fathom rejoicing. And yet, there they were. And there he was. And joy is.

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!

4-16-22 - Holy Saturday: Joseph

Our schedule of Holy Week services, most of which can be accessed online, is here.

4-15-22 - Good Friday: Mary of Nazareth

Each day this week we will use the gospel appointed for the day, and hear from one of the main characters in the story, as I imagine they might speak. I hope this will help engage your own imagination as you walk this story with Jesus.
You can listen to this reflection here.

Mary of Nazareth: They keep offering to take me away, my sister, the two Marys. They keep trying to take me home, to get me away from here, from watching him… But I can’t go. I guess I must feel some need to finish this. He said a moment ago… “It is finished.” Or, that’s what they said he said. I couldn’t hear him. His voice was so faint…

But still I can’t leave. Not yet. It wasn’t like I was ever allowed to forget that there would be an end like this. I just didn’t ever know how or when it would be. I always knew that he was a gift with strings attached. From the beginning, what that angel, or whatever he was, said to me, “He will be great, and will be called the son of the Most High… his kingdom will never end.” And the whole way he just suddenly... was there, in me… And his birth, those crazed shepherds running, finding us, telling of choirs of angels on the hills…

I always knew he was no ordinary child; I always knew he was never mine to keep. But this – this was not a day I ever imagined, to see my own first son, flesh of my flesh, there…naked, pinned… suffocating… In agony. And yet I can’t leave.

A little while before he spoke again. Oh God, he barely had the strength to lift his voice. He was looking at me, he wanted me. And there was nothing I could do for him! They took me by the arm, Joanna and Mary, they led me closer. I felt I could have touched him – could have reached out and touched his feet, those feet that were once so small they fit into my hand, those toes I used to tickle, and he would laugh and laugh like an angel… And there they were, and a spike… Oh God, what have you done?

He looked at John, his faithful friend. He looked at me. “Dear woman, behold your son,” he said. “No, you are my son!” I wanted to cry out. “Take him down!”

Then he said to John, “Here is your mother.” I thought my heart would stop, it hurt so much. To be given away, even for my own care… like the time he wouldn’t see us, his brothers and me. He said those who followed him, his disciples, those were his mothers and his brothers now. And I tried to understand… he was never mine to keep. But what was it all for? The crowds, the miracles, the healings? All those amazing stories that he told, about forgiveness and the Kingdom of God? Where is all that now?

That’s what I want to know. Maybe that’s why I can’t look away – I’ve been waiting to see what he does now! God, where are you now? Your moment to intervene just passed, it seems. Are you going to finish what you started?

This is the question of Good Friday – are you there, God? Where is your power, your presence, your peace? Are your promises any good? And as much as we want the resolution, to see the story turn out the way we know it will – this is an important space in which to rest, these three days before the promise is revealed. Sit with your questions, and doubts, and faith, and love. Share them with Jesus. He knows…

You are welcome to join our Good Friday service online tonight at 7 pm here, or in-person at Christ Church in La Plata, 112 Charles Street.

Our schedule of Holy Week services, most of which can be accessed online, is here.

4-14-22 - Maundy Thursday: Peter

Each day this week we will use the gospel appointed for the day, and hear from one of the main characters in the story, as I imagine they might speak. I hope this will help engage your own imagination as you walk this story with Jesus. You can listen to this reflection here.

Simon Peter of Capernaum: I know what you’re thinking – a tough guy like me? Crying like a baby? I couldn’t help it. After what I did… after what I didn’t do? He told me, you know? He said one of us was going to betray him and we were all going to deny we knew him, and I said, “Oh, no, Lord, I’ll never deny you! Even if I have to die with you!”

But he told me, he already knew, that before the cock crowed twice this morning, I would. He was right. I was worthless to him! I couldn’t even stand it for an hour. I couldn’t even stay awake with him last night, I couldn’t defend him…

But he didn’t want us to fight. He said it had to happen this way. This, from a guy who has power like you’ve never seen. But this man, last night, got down on his knees and washed our feet. Like a servant. Like a slave. He knelt down in front of me with this basin and started to wash my feet. I pulled them back! The idea of him, touching my feet! My feet… my feet are filthy. They smell like cheese you left lying around your kitchen for too many weeks. They’re caked in mud and dirt and God knows what. They’ve got sores…

But he said, “If I do not wash you, you have no part with me.” Okay, then, I said, don’t stop with my feet. Wash my hands and my head too! But he just said, no, I was clean. Then he washed my feet like they were babies, like they were precious. He washed my feet like he loved them, and me along with them.

Everything he’d ever said made sense right then, because he loved me so much. I don’t understand it. I’m not lovable. I’m loud, crude, ornery. I’m always charging in without thinking… but he loves me. There’s nothing I’ve done to make it so. I betrayed him tonight, as much as Judas. I ran like a coward. I lied about him, three times.

But just now, they brought him out and as he passed, he looked at me. He knew what I had done, but he looked at me with those eyes that see everything, and he still loved me. No matter what I do. It’s an amazing thing. And I’ll tell you something, that is love I’d die for.

How are you at receiving love and care from others? It’s tricky, this giving and receiving thing – Jesus implies we have to be equally good at both.

Who do you let get close to you, close enough to see your flaws and blemishes? Thank God for them.

Who lets you show them love? How does it feel?
Would you withhold that feeling from someone who wants to show you love?

Tonight, if you’re participating in a service that includes foot washing, will you be vulnerable enough to let someone wash your feet? Those hands will be Jesus’ hands, bathing you in love. Be a part of his amazing love.

Our schedule of Holy Week services, most of which can be accessed online, is here.

4-13-22 - Wednesday in Holy Week: Judas

Each day this week we will use the gospel appointed for the day, and hear from one of the main characters in the story, as I imagine they might speak. I hope this will help engage your own imagination as you walk this story with Jesus. You can listen to this reflection here.

Judas Iscariot: I know, I’m the bad guy in all this. “How could you?” they all ask. And he asked, “With a kiss? Did you have to betray me with a symbol of love and friendship?”

But what did he want? He as good as made me do it. He said, at dinner, “What you have to do, do it quickly.” He knew. I’m just a pawn in all this. But no one’s going to understand that, are they? I’m the bad guy. The one.

You’re wondering how I could betray him, why I would betray someone who showed me so much love and acceptance. What you have to understand is, it wasn’t about him. It couldn’t be about him in the end – it had to be about the work, right? The revolution. Feeding the poor, empowering the weak, kicking out the Romans. Justice. Freedom.

“The Kingdom of God is coming,” he said. Bring it on! We had that parade into Jerusalem and the crowd was all worked up, shouting hosanna. That must have given the Romans something to think about. And then he kicked butt up at the temple, giving it to those accomodationist Jewish leaders, collaborators … it was great.

But then he slowed down again – he’d tell these weird stories that hardly made sense. We were wasting so much time. And there was the thing at that dinner in Bethany, where Lazarus' sister Mary emptied like a whole bottle of really expensive perfumed oil on his feet. We could have fed a whole village for a month with what that cost! But he defended her. “She’s preparing me for death,” he said, like that was supposed to make sense. All this death stuff all the time, and he wasn’t even fighting it.

All of a sudden he thought he was more important than the poor? He was completely out of touch. What was I supposed to do, sit back and watch the whole thing unravel? We need a revolution. We need justice. I couldn’t just turn my back on…

But I don’t expect you to understand. And you should know – I gave the money back!

So, who is Judas? Traitor? Zeolot? Freedom fighter? God’s patsy? Can you relate to him on any level?

Today, let’s pray for the Judases in our lives, and in ourselves. If we have free will, so do they… and wholeness must be possible for them too.

For a beautiful take on Judas that emphasizes the enormity of God’s grace, listen to U2’s “Until the End of the World,” which imagines a conversation between Jesus and Judas. Concert version; Official video (clearer lyrics, dumber visuals…)

You are welcome to join me tonight at 7 pm EDT for an online service for Wednesday in Holy Week - link is here. Our Holy Week schedule of services, most of which can be accessed online, is here.

Our schedule of Holy Week services, most of which can be accessed online, is here.

4-12-22 - Tuesday in Holy Week: Philip

Each day this week we will use the gospel appointed for the day, and hear from one of the main characters in the story, as I imagine they might speak. I hope this will help engage your own imagination as you walk this story with Jesus.
You can listen to this reflection here.

Philip of Bethsaida: People always wanted to see Jesus; what was so different about these Greeks, that their seeking him out should cause him such sadness?

I wasn’t even sure I should bother him when they approached me. I mean, a LOT of people wanted to see Jesus – not all of them friendly – and he seemed tense and tired. So I checked in with Andrew, who's closer to the inner circle than I. We went together to Jesus. His response surprised me. “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified,” he said. I wasn’t sure what that meant but he just looked resigned, and added, “I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”

I couldn't pretend not to know what he was talking about – the rumors of plots against him have been flying for weeks now. It got a lot worse after Lazarus. The religious leaders are not happy with Jesus’ popularity, or his miracles. And now even Greeks in Jerusalem for Passover want to see him? This will not be good.

Or is it “good” in a much bigger picture? Jesus keeps hinting at a mission broader than we can imagine, that God is up to something huge. Is that what he means by “fruit?” Could something good come from the death of one so amazing as Jesus? Whom I, we, believe to be the Anointed One, the Messiah himself? What kind of fruit might he bear if he dies?

Is he talking about us too? Are we all called to be grains of wheat, broken open so the life of God can break out?

“Whoever serves me must follow me,” he said. “And where I am, there will my servant be also.” Well, I am his servant. I can think of no greater purpose for my life than to serve Jesus. I will stay as close to him this week as I can, and hope against hope he’s just speaking in metaphors…

How about us? Are we willing to stay close to Jesus this week? What do you find most unsettling about the whole story of Holy Week? Is there a part you routinely want to avoid? Why do you suppose that is?

I pray that we might walk closely with Jesus this week, allowing him to be real in our lives - not the suffering crucified one, but the risen Lord of heaven and earth, bearing abundant fruit through us.

You are welcome to join me tonight at 7 pm EDT for an online service for Tuesday in Holy Week - link is here. Our Holy Week schedule of services, most of which can be accessed online, is here.

4-11-22 - Monday in Holy Week: Mary of Bethany

Each day this week we will use the gospel appointed for the day, and hear from one of the main characters in the story, as I imagine they might speak. I hope this will help engage your own imagination as you walk this story with Jesus.
You can listen to this reflection here.

Mary of Bethany:
I know it was an intimate thing to do, even scandalous. You should have seen my sister Martha’s face when I poured a whole pound of pure nard on Jesus’ feet! But Jesus was like my brother. Yes, he was my Lord, but I also loved him like I loved Lazarus. It seemed the most natural and full way to honor him before he… before, you know…

How did I know he was going to leave us soon? It wasn’t because he said so. I just felt it. After Lazarus’ death, when Jesus… raised him… I just stood at that tomb and was filled with a knowing: “Before too long we will have to bury the Teacher.” It was like I could see into his spirit; I knew he would be taken from us. He said it often enough; we just didn’t want to believe him.

This might be the last time he was in our home. I had bought the nard to anoint him after his death; I didn’t want them using anything cheap on him. I used all the money I’d gotten from the clothes I made and sold. I wanted the best for him. But that night I looked at him in the flickering light, as we all sat at the table after the meal, talking and talking, as we always did… and I thought, “Why waste this on him after his death. He should be honored like this in life.” And that was it; I just got up and took the jar and broke it and poured it all over his feet, the whole thing, everything for him.

“Oh the waste!” they cried, Judas leading the charge. “This could have been sold and given to the poor!” Well, of course it could have. But that wasn’t the point. The point was to honor Jesus, to give him comfort and love and protection because we would not be able to protect him from what was ahead. This was one way I could show love to him.

It was shocking to hear him say it so bluntly, that we wouldn’t always have him with us. I still don’t think they really heard him, or understood. But he let me know I had done the right thing, as wrong as it seemed to everyone else there. He was going to lay down his life for us. I didn’t know what would happen after that. He had talked about being raised on the third day. He had said something to Martha at the tomb about being the resurrection and the life, and “Do you believe this?” But how could we know what would be?

Now I do know, and I ask you: was my action any more “wasteful” than the Son of God pouring out his life for the likes of me? For those who wouldn’t even recognize the gift?

Mary’s act of devotion and worship is unbelievably extravagant, seemingly wasteful. She held nothing back. Do you ever feel that toward Jesus… maybe toward someone else in your life?

The time you are spending now is precious to God… and as we give this, we can begin to look at what we’re holding back and release that too.

You are welcome to join me tonight at 7 pm EDT for an online service for Monday in Holy Week - link is here. Our Holy Week schedule of services, most of which can be accessed online, is here.

4-8-22 - Do Stones Sing?

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

One person’s praise is another’s blasphemy. When the Pharisees heard Jesus’ disciples calling him the “King that comes in the name of the Lord,” they asked him to shut them up: Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.”

Praise is part of the natural order in God’s world. Sometimes it’s obvious in a riotous sunset or an explosion of spring flowers, the grandeur of waterfalls, symphony of birdsong. But do stones really shout out the praises of the One who made them? One day I asked one. Sitting on a rock in the sun during a Spa for the Spirit morning retreat, it told me a lot:

I sing.
I sing of God’s love.
Even if I cold and solid and unmoving – I sing.
I sing a song rooted in ancient times
I have been singing, and the song has changed and grown –
oh, not so you could notice unless
you were watching for the past 20,000 years or so –

But I sing.
Of love unmoving, unmovable
I sing of earth, of lichen and moss
and living things that grow on me
I sing with birds, whose song blends with mine
I sing of grass and trees with whom I share this spot
of sunlight that warms me
moonlight that bathes me
rain that refreshes
The rain and the wind
bring new verses into the song I sing,
chord changes, shifts in melody –
as wind and rain in your life
make your song deeper, richer.

I sing to remind you of enough,
that God has thought of everything,
God’s love is a rock you can put all your weight upon.

I sing with joy.
I’m singing with all my might,
so that you might hear me and join my song.
Sing out!

Prayer Poem on a Rock, Kate Heichler, September 2013

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4-7-22 - Mobs and Multitudes

You can listen to this reflection here.

Given current trends of adoration and hate-speak at political gatherings, it’s hard not to bring that lens to the Palm Sunday story. Certainly there are multitudes on display:
As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!”

We will soon see how quickly these multitudes praising God and lauding Jesus as “the king who comes in the name of the Lord” morph into mobs braying for blood. As is true today, there was some manipulation on the part of leaders in fomenting that transition, an appeal to fear and inciting to anger. But we also have in the mix unrealistic expectation and disappointment, and those are incendiary ingredients.

Why does this crowd of disciples praise God? Because of the deeds of power they have seen in Jesus. He exercised spiritual power that had immediate effect in the temporal realm – palsied limbs visibly restored to strength; leprous skin made clear; water become wine; notorious extortioners become models of generosity. The fact that this power resided in a man of such holiness, above reproach in every way, excited their expectations that at last God had sent the king who would deliver them from the Roman occupiers. They refused to believe that his kingship was of a nature other than what they wanted.

So when Jesus is overcome by the authorities, and handed over and mocked and spit upon and beaten, and raises not a finger to help himself, it’s not hard to see how dashed hopes like that could curdle into venom, yielding to cries of “Crucify him.”

And how about us? We might not have joined in the bloodlust, but have we too experienced disappointment in our faith? Dashed expectations of what we thought God could or would do for us in Christ? We don’t tend to get mad so much as withdraw, distance ourselves, afraid to trust in this One who is more powerful than any force in the universe – indeed, who made the universe – yet can’t seem to keep our loved ones from harm and our world from becoming a mass of unmitigated terror and pain.

How do we hold our hosannas in the face of failure and loss? By singing not to Jesus, but with him. By staying close to him, telling him when we’re mad or disappointed, by saying “I don’t understand. But I believe. Show me.” We don’t have to give way to rage. He didn’t. And as we demonstrate his peace in the face of rage and outrage, we just might help to sow peace ourselves, to keep multitudes from becoming mobs.

4-6-22 - Consecrated

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

I’m always amused that we call this Palm Sunday, when in some of the versions of the story – like Luke’s – there is no mention whatsoever of palm branches. But they all say that the people spread their cloaks on the road as they accompanied Jesus on the road into Jerusalem.

Then they brought [the colt] to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it. As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road.

Why did they spread their cloaks on the road? Probably because they so honored the holiness in Jesus that they didn’t want even the hooves of the colt carrying him to touch the bare ground. In that moment, the colt became a holy vessel, consecrated to God’s purpose, as holy as the tabernacle of old in which the presence of God was thought to dwell. In fact, we are told that this colt whom Jesus’ disciples found tied up in the next village, as Jesus said they would, was one which had never been ridden. This was an animal set apart to mediate the divine into ordinary life.

That is what we call sacramental – ordinary things which are consecrated to the Lord’s purposes, to bring the holy into the everyday. Cups and plates, even if they are made of silver and called chalices and patens, are just cups and plates until the time they are called into holy use. Water is just water until it becomes blessed as the water that gives new life. Bread and wine are things we enjoy at a restaurant, until we set them aside to carry the holy into our lives.

And you and I are just ordinary people, yet also consecrated to carry the holy presence of Christ into the world. As it did for the colt, that call can come at any time. In our lives it comes frequently, and some of the time we discern it and act on it. In those times, we remember that our truest vocation is to be bearers of Christ’s light and love and presence to the places and people who need to see him. Remembering that, we are able to look past our own reactions in the situation, lay ourselves aside and bring Christ forward.

I pray we might share the vocation of that little colt, knowing ourselves to have been found and untied, released for service as a bearer of Christ. I pray we might walk around the streets and roads of our towns aware that we are carrying a holy presence, expecting that presence to make a difference. People may not lay down cloaks before us – in fact, they may throw obstacles in our way. But if we’re carrying Jesus where he has asked to go, we need fear no obstacles. We are holy vessels, consecrated to God’s use, and that is enough.

4-5-22 - The Lord Needs It

You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.

License to borrow without permission? Or an example of provision in the realm of God? Jesus has an interesting way of obtaining the beast upon which he will ride into Jerusalem. His way calls for a great deal of trust on the part of the disciples whom he instructs to go get it, and the owners.

When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples, saying, “Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it.’”

They do find the colt exactly where Jesus said it would be – how did he know that? And the owners do happen upon them untying it and ask what they're doing. They answer just as Jesus told them to, “The Lord needs it.” And that seems to satisfy the owners. Did they know Jesus? Had they heard of him? Or where they just people of strong faith?

What if we were to start saying that when people ask us why we invest so much time or money or resources in God’s mission through our churches. “The Lord needs it.” That would end the conversation very nicely - and start a more important one.

And when we ask others to invest in our ministries, we don’t have to say, “We need it.” We can say – if it’s something we feel God wanting to do through us – “The Lord needs it.”

And what if we gave that answer to ourselves, when we look at our priorities and question where to invest our time or money or talents. “The Lord needs it” could be incentive to reprioritize quite a lot. It could also provide a nice evaluative lens – “Does the Lord need this?” we might ask about something we’re spending a lot of energy on. “Or is it just something I think should be done?”

And what if we made our resources available for the Lord’s use, as the owners of that colt seem to have done, so that people came along and asked us to use our stuff – or just helped themselves, knowing it would be alright? That happens in the “sharing economy,” where people make tools or talents or bicycles available through websites for others to take, use and return. How might our life of faith and ministry be a sharing economy?

A system based on “The Lord needs it” could be bustling, creative and efficient. It calls for a lot of faith, and the guidance of the Holy Spirit. If s/he tells you where to find something, assume it will be there, waiting for you. And if anyone asks you what you’re up to, say, “The Lord needs it.”