You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Each day this week we hear from one of the main characters in the gospel reading appointed for the day, as I imagine they might speak. I hope this will help engage your own imagination as you walk this story with Jesus.
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 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 could ever 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, yelling about 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 ago 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. “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. 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?
A soldier spoke a moment ago, a Roman. He said, “I am sure this man was the Son of God.” That’s what that angel said, so long ago, the words are seared into my memory: “The Holy One to be born will be called the Son of God.” So how did this Roman know? Did God tell him too? Maybe it is all true! I believed once and said yes; can I believe again? Maybe God hasn’t finished? Maybe the story isn’t over…
Ah, now John wants to usher me away, already taking up his duties. I am staying till they take him down. They have promised to take care of the body, these women, these Marys, his friends, my friends. And some important men – Joseph, who gave us the tomb; Nicodemus, another one of the Sanhedrin. They brought the ointments and cloths – 75 pounds of myrrh and aloes, Mary said.
I will help. I will anoint my son’s body with oil and touch his bruised skin one more time, look at his face, now just an empty space, before they put him away in that tomb in the garden. Then I will go home.
What has been your greatest loss? Have you let God into that heartache? Let God fill that space with something that brings life? We can't rush it - but in time, our greatest pain will be overshadowed by the Life of God that cannot be quenched, even in death... Wait for it. Wait with Mary.
You are welcome to join our Good Friday service online tonight at 7 pm here.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for Good Friday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Showing posts with label Good Friday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Good Friday. Show all posts
3-15-24 - God's Embrace
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
There is a prayer for mission in the Episcopal rite of Morning Prayer that begins like this: Lord Jesus Christ, you stretched out your arms of love on the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of your saving embrace.
It is a lovely thought, to take the brutal image of a man nailed to a cross beam, his arms spread wide, and call it an embrace. Or it’s a horrible thought. Or both. A child once asked me, “Why do they call it Good Friday? How can it be a good day If Jesus died?” We call it “good” because we believe that we are drawn into that saving embrace, whether or not Jesus chose the position of his arms.
And, in part, we believe that because of what he said, at the end of this passage we read on Sunday - “Now is the judgement of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.’ He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die."
By “ruler of this world” he means Satan, the personification of corrupting, life-sapping evil, whose power to tempt humanity away from the love of their Creator gained him authority over this world, this limited, created realm. Satan, not the authorities with whom Jesus so often tangled, was Jesus’ adversary. He was the one from whom humanity needed saving. His weapon of choice has always been death, and Jesus had to put death to death.
In using this language, Jesus anticipated the horror ahead and framed it in the context of his mission in this world, his Father’s mission to reclaim, restore, renew all of creation to wholeness. In being lifted up on that cross, the very picture of powerlessness, Jesus would exercise all the power that created worlds to break “death’s fearful hold.” That’s why the earth shook and the sun was blocked out when he died. Because he’d broken the power of evil and death, once and for all. For all of creation.
This was to be the way God would draw all people back to himself. Yet we know that all people have not come within reach of that saving embrace. Some have come near and chosen not to stay; others have grown up around this tale and never knew it was a love story. And some have never heard, because we haven’t told them.
We are approaching the powerful mysteries of Holy Week, when we tiptoe closer to this awful love story than we really want to. “Did you really have to go through that to save me?” we think. I hope you will choose to walk closely the way of the cross this year, along with your faith community. (Our services on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Good Friday will be online here at 7 pm… you’re welcome to join.)
Jesus' embrace on the cross was wide enough to include people who don’t believe in him, or are hostile to him, or don’t know anything about him. It was wide enough to include those who had him killed, and those who did the killing. It was wide enough to include every enemy, every stranger. And it was wide enough for you and me, even when we allow the things of this world to claim our focus. Can we turn and receive the love God has poured out for us in Christ? Come into that saving embrace and find Life.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
There is a prayer for mission in the Episcopal rite of Morning Prayer that begins like this: Lord Jesus Christ, you stretched out your arms of love on the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within the reach of your saving embrace.
It is a lovely thought, to take the brutal image of a man nailed to a cross beam, his arms spread wide, and call it an embrace. Or it’s a horrible thought. Or both. A child once asked me, “Why do they call it Good Friday? How can it be a good day If Jesus died?” We call it “good” because we believe that we are drawn into that saving embrace, whether or not Jesus chose the position of his arms.
And, in part, we believe that because of what he said, at the end of this passage we read on Sunday - “Now is the judgement of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.’ He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die."
By “ruler of this world” he means Satan, the personification of corrupting, life-sapping evil, whose power to tempt humanity away from the love of their Creator gained him authority over this world, this limited, created realm. Satan, not the authorities with whom Jesus so often tangled, was Jesus’ adversary. He was the one from whom humanity needed saving. His weapon of choice has always been death, and Jesus had to put death to death.
In using this language, Jesus anticipated the horror ahead and framed it in the context of his mission in this world, his Father’s mission to reclaim, restore, renew all of creation to wholeness. In being lifted up on that cross, the very picture of powerlessness, Jesus would exercise all the power that created worlds to break “death’s fearful hold.” That’s why the earth shook and the sun was blocked out when he died. Because he’d broken the power of evil and death, once and for all. For all of creation.
This was to be the way God would draw all people back to himself. Yet we know that all people have not come within reach of that saving embrace. Some have come near and chosen not to stay; others have grown up around this tale and never knew it was a love story. And some have never heard, because we haven’t told them.
We are approaching the powerful mysteries of Holy Week, when we tiptoe closer to this awful love story than we really want to. “Did you really have to go through that to save me?” we think. I hope you will choose to walk closely the way of the cross this year, along with your faith community. (Our services on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Good Friday will be online here at 7 pm… you’re welcome to join.)
Jesus' embrace on the cross was wide enough to include people who don’t believe in him, or are hostile to him, or don’t know anything about him. It was wide enough to include those who had him killed, and those who did the killing. It was wide enough to include every enemy, every stranger. And it was wide enough for you and me, even when we allow the things of this world to claim our focus. Can we turn and receive the love God has poured out for us in Christ? Come into that saving embrace and find Life.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
4-7-23 - Mary of Magdala
This week we will look at the gospel reading appointed for each day and reflect from the perspective of one the people on the fringes of the story. We too are on the fringes of this story – and we are invited to come into its heart this week. May these holy men and women draw us closer. Today's gospel passage is John 19:16-30
You can listen to this reflection here.
Mary of Magdala: My name is Mary. I come from Magdala. I’m one of those women, one of those who followed Jesus from Galilee and helped take care of him and the disciples.
This man, this man they killed today? This man healed me. He set me free from the worst kind of bondage you can imagine. He cast out seven demons from me, who tortured me constantly. I didn’t think I’d ever get free of those voices, the incessant chatter inside, telling me to hurt myself, telling me how worthless I was, how I’d be better off dead. He gave me back my life.
After that he was my life. I would have followed him anywhere. He was my Lord. Following him and tending to his needs and those of his disciples – what else could I do? He set me free, and all I wanted to use my freedom for was to serve him.
That’s how it was for all of us – this motley collection of people who had been set free – from demons, from sin and degradation, some from blindness, crippling diseases; some from despair and loneliness and meaningless lives; some from greed and lust. Just a bunch of people who love him because of what he did for us. Selfish kind of love, when you think about it. But it was real, it was real when you were with him. He made it real. He made us all able to love in a way we didn’t naturally know.
And now he's gone. How can that be?
So... now we have to bury him. I hear some guy from the Sanhedrin has given us a tomb to use until we can bury him properly. It’s too late now to anoint him before the Sabbath begins. We’ll have to do it first thing Sunday morning…
I’d better find the others and find out where they’re taking him. Oh, my sweet Lord. My sweetest friend. What have they done to you? What have we done to you?
As you move through this Good Friday, whenever or wherever you will worship, take some time to ponder what Jesus has done for you - what you feel personally he has given you. Reflect on that. Reflect on how worthy you are to receive his gift, not because of anything you've done or will do, but simply because God says so. And then pass it on.
If you would like to join me for the Liturgy for Good Friday online tonight, join here on Zoom at 7 pm, or live on Facebook, here. If you would like to move through an interactive Stations of the Cross, you can find that here.
You can listen to this reflection here.
Mary of Magdala: My name is Mary. I come from Magdala. I’m one of those women, one of those who followed Jesus from Galilee and helped take care of him and the disciples.
This man, this man they killed today? This man healed me. He set me free from the worst kind of bondage you can imagine. He cast out seven demons from me, who tortured me constantly. I didn’t think I’d ever get free of those voices, the incessant chatter inside, telling me to hurt myself, telling me how worthless I was, how I’d be better off dead. He gave me back my life.
After that he was my life. I would have followed him anywhere. He was my Lord. Following him and tending to his needs and those of his disciples – what else could I do? He set me free, and all I wanted to use my freedom for was to serve him.
That’s how it was for all of us – this motley collection of people who had been set free – from demons, from sin and degradation, some from blindness, crippling diseases; some from despair and loneliness and meaningless lives; some from greed and lust. Just a bunch of people who love him because of what he did for us. Selfish kind of love, when you think about it. But it was real, it was real when you were with him. He made it real. He made us all able to love in a way we didn’t naturally know.
And now he's gone. How can that be?
So... now we have to bury him. I hear some guy from the Sanhedrin has given us a tomb to use until we can bury him properly. It’s too late now to anoint him before the Sabbath begins. We’ll have to do it first thing Sunday morning…
I’d better find the others and find out where they’re taking him. Oh, my sweet Lord. My sweetest friend. What have they done to you? What have we done to you?
As you move through this Good Friday, whenever or wherever you will worship, take some time to ponder what Jesus has done for you - what you feel personally he has given you. Reflect on that. Reflect on how worthy you are to receive his gift, not because of anything you've done or will do, but simply because God says so. And then pass it on.
If you would like to join me for the Liturgy for Good Friday online tonight, join here on Zoom at 7 pm, or live on Facebook, here. If you would like to move through an interactive Stations of the Cross, you can find that 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.
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…
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