The Wilderness: Sermon from the First Sunday of Lent 2/22/15

Delivered at Church of Our Saviour, Atlanta GA

First Sunday in Lent 2/22/15

Genesis 9:8-17
Psalm 25:1-9
1 Peter 3:18-22
Mark 1:9-15
The Great Litany BCP p.148

Jesus came down from his home in Nazareth to the banks of the Jordan River. He descended down toward the banks, searching for the man named John who was baptizing there. John had been waiting for the one who was greater than him. He baptized with water alone, a baptism of repentance, but he knew there was one who would come after him, and that person would baptize with the Holy Spirit.  Jesus came to John in the wilderness by the water’s edge. He waded into the water with John, and John quickly immersed Jesus in the water. There was a crowd of John’s followers watching him, waiting to greet the newly baptized and teach him about John’s ways.  But just as Jesus was coming out of the water the sky tore apart.  There was a bright vision of what appeared to be a dove, gliding down from the sky and resting on Jesus.  John and his followers knew that this was the Spirit.  Jesus was the one who was greater than John.  He had the Spirit, which he could give to others. But before John and his disciples could speak with Jesus, he went off into the wilderness. The Spirit had cast him into it.

Jesus wandered in the hot desert for forty days. There was little water and little shelter from the heat.  This was a dangerous place, and Jesus had to protect himself from the wild beasts that resided there. Venomous snakes and scorpions could attack his heels. Wild dogs and jackals could strike in the night. He was alone in the sandy terrain, exposed to all. Then Satan came and began to tempt him. All the things of the earth could be his.  He could be a king, a ruler of the earth, with power over all.  Satan could make him rich and popular. Wasn’t that all a man could dream of? But Jesus had a different dream, a different call; one that would make him poor and despised but was also the will of God.  It was a call to proclaim repentance and the kingdom of God.

As he resisted the urging of Satan, angels came down and watched over him. The wild beasts did not attack him, nor did he die of thirst.  He was protected. For while the wilderness was a place of danger, it was also a place where God had protected God’s children.  When the Israelites escaped the bondage of Egypt, God had led them in the wilderness in a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night.  When the Israelites were hungry in the wilderness, God had provided them manna from the clouds. When they were thirsty, the rocks were filled with water.  The wilderness was where God first came to dwell with the Israelites, asking them to build a tabernacle, a tent where God could dwell among them. God had never been closer to them than when they were in the wilderness. While the people of Israel struggled and fought with God, God remained steadfast beside them, leading them slowly and surely to the Promised Land.

And so, Jesus was driven into the wilderness by the Spirit, not just to be tempted, but to come closer to the one who had provided in the wilderness. Yes, Jesus was fully divine, but he was also fully human, and he searched for that thin spot where he could find the closest connection to the divinity while in his humanity. This was the wilderness, the place where despite the struggles and because of the struggles, God’s presence was near. And just as his ancestors had spent forty years in the wilderness, learning from God and learning about the struggle to follow God, Jesus spent forty days dwelling with God, learning to resist the tempter. It was a time of struggle and a time of growth.  

And after he had dwelt in the desert for forty days, Jesus came out of the desert and went back to Galilee. He was ready to begin his ministry, having communed with the divine and learned the ways to resist temptation and the forces of evil.  He spoke his message clearly and boldly, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news."

And now we have come to our own time in the wilderness. For forty days we are called to resist those things that tempt us and look for God who is near in the wilderness. God is near to us today, as close as the very bread we eat and the very wine we drink.  But there are still dangers in going into the wilderness with God.  There are those that can attack us, harm us, or destroy us.  One needs to look no further than Syria to find those who have given their very lives for this faith.  In the wilderness, we may be called to places we don’t really want to go, or to things we would rather not do.  We are tempted to remain where we are comfortable. But God is calling us into the wilderness to resist temptation and to live anew. 

What is it that God is calling you to in this season in the wilderness? Where do you feel the stirring of the Spirit calling you to consider a new way of being? Do you need to repent of unhealthy patterns of living, of apathy, of broken relationships? Do you try to hold onto too much and do not give things over to God? What is it that you want the good Lord to deliver you from?

In this time in the wilderness, open yourself up to the struggle that comes from being in the wilderness. Allow yourself to be real and honest with God. Seek help if you need it. God is calling us into something new. There will be a new ministry and a new birth on Easter morning, but first we need to live into the wilderness and seek the thin spaces between God and us.

This Lenten season, we will be praying the Great Litany to begin our time of worship together. This is a prayer that seeks to bring God into every corner of our lives. We ask God to spare us from all the sinful things that we do and all the fearful things we encounter. We then ask that God might forgive us, strengthen us, and have mercy upon us. In the petitions and requests, I encourage you to find yourself in that great prayer.  In the repetitions of our replies, I encourage you to lift your own petitions up to God.  And in the silence before the reception of communion, I encourage you to ask God into those situations and bring you new life. In your daily life, I encourage you to seek a richer and fuller prayer life. Try new ways of speaking with God. See how God is answering you.

I also encourage you to make a confession if you have not done so before.  It is scary to voice all that you have done to a priest, and you can go to another priest if you would feel more comfortable, but there is something in sharing your sins and receiving forgiveness that is invaluable. It is a time when you can truly be honest and humble before God and seek advice to address your greatest needs. Weights have come off shoulders in the rite of reconciliation. Wounds have been healed. Miracles happen in the confidential confines of confession.

In this season, seek the closeness of God in the wilderness, knowing that struggle does not mean that you have been abandoned, and temptation need not be fulfilled.  And in all things, seek Christ, the bringer of the kingdom of God. Repent, and believe in the good news.

Contemplative Silence or Contemplative Words?

We started our Church Administration and Leadership class by reading Henri Nouwen's book In the Name of Jesus.  In this work he reflects on his life of Christian leadership and talks about the temptations of Christian leadership.  The first temptation he points to is the temptation of relevance, of wanting to be seen as somebody special instead of being somebody after God's own heart. His suggestion for countering that temptation was contemplative prayer. I think he's right about that. I also think that means I have a lot of work to do.
I keep on thinking that I should be more into silent meditation.  I know several different contemplative prayer practices, but I keep coming back to the practice of sitting in silence and I get frustrated at how much I suck at it.  I am so heady and wordy.  I create dialogues in my head and had begun this blog post three times in my mind before it ever got onto paper. That is how I operate in the world. I create my own commentary.  So when I try to focus on one word, try to clear my mind of other thoughts, I struggle. I either fall asleep or just feel uncomfortable. But how can I wait on God when I can't release myself from inner commentary? This is what I struggle with.
I know other practices that work better for me. Repeating prayers and listening to familiar music are ways I can simply be. Journaling and blogging are ways for me to release the commentary and see if God might actually be leading me in my thoughts. But I worry about being heady.  I think we all worry about finding that line between what is God's will and what is my will.  What are God's thoughts and what are mine? Am I actually listening to God at all or am I just doing my own thing? And that is why I want to be able to sit in silence. I want to be able to clear my mind and just sit. While I know there are other methods of contemplative prayer that come more naturally, I guess I have a bias towards silent meditation. It feels more "authentic" than staring out the window on the bus purposely listening to music that is so familiar, I don't even really hear it anymore.
My professor kind of glossed over contemplative prayer, saying we need to do the kind of prayer where we just listen to God, but I wish he had said more. My husband has devoted his life to contemplative prayer, I've taken classes in it, and I still don't quite get it. I don't know what does or doesn't count.  I worry that I don't pray enough or I don't pray the right way. I wish that I could be confident in my prayer life.  But my prayer life looks an awful lot like a person listening to music on a bus. I fear this doesn't really count.
The other day as I was coming back from class, worrying about contemplative prayer, I realized I was sitting on the other side of the bus from where I usually sit. And through the window I could see businesses on the other street over, a street I had never been to before. I saw things I had never seen in nearly two years of taking the same bus to school. And my commentary began. I thought, "Maybe contemplative prayer is simply about being receptive. Maybe it is waiting and being open to glimpses of the unseen. A lot of the time nothing happens, but sometimes you get a glimpse of God, and maybe that is what it is all about."
For now, I am not sure sitting in silence would really work for me. I need stimuli that put me into a prayerful state, and right now, those things are all filled with words. Not just one word, but many words. Words about God and for God. Words that come from my heart and other people's hearts. Familiar words. In this sea of words, I find myself able to move in and out of inner dialogue, able to sit with God without feeling uncomfortable or intimidated by the process. And maybe that is enough for now. Later I can work on the silence, but maybe right now I really need the words.
I live with the same fears I had as a child. When I was young, I told my mother that I was bad at praying because I couldn't keep my eyes closed. She revealed to me that many people pray with their eyes open. I fear that I cannot pray in the silence. Maybe it is okay to pray with the words.

Thoughts on Ferguson, Staten Island, and Police Brutality from an Officer's Child

When Michael Brown was killed in Ferguson, I assumed that something must have happened to cause Officer Wilson to use lethal force. I knew what it would take for the law enforcement officers I knew to pull a trigger. They would have to be in danger of losing their lives. Now I am not so sure what happened in Ferguson. I don't know how a police officer telling two young men not to jay walk turned into deadly use of force. The documents don't make sense to me. Something is not right.

Then Eric Garner was choked to death by an officer in Staten Island, and I don't know how that happened either.  I don't get it. That should never have happened. If the police were arresting him, then all they needed was to put handcuffs on, and if he was resistant, there are ways to get him into the back of a patrol car that don't result in death.

I have been listening a lot to my black colleagues and classmates recently.  Listening, but not saying much, because it's hard for me to take it all in.  It's hard to figure it out.  It's not the picture I have in my mind of the police force and I grieve what I am hearing and learning from my colleagues.

My father was a police officer in small towns for years. When I think of a white police officer, I naturally think of Dad coming home at the end of the day in his uniform.  When I was 10, he became a probation/parole officer at a men's residential facility, and he proudly talks about helping men to examine their lives, to take actions to avoid years in prison and to live successful lives. When he runs into former clients, he is usually greeted with a smile and a handshake.

I have grown up for years hearing stories about Dad's law enforcement friends, people like the officer who refused to put tickets on the cars left in front of the bars at night because he wasn't going to penalize people recognized that they couldn't drive and found other ways home.

Recently I married a former police officer, and he boasts of how he had the lowest use of force rate while he was on the force. He always tried to talk to people and did everything he could to resolve situations without using force.

These are my images of the police force, and these are the images that I want to be the norm for every person residing in the United States. Sadly, more and more I am learning that my image is not the norm, especially for people of color, and that is not okay with me. I don't want people to be afraid of the police, I don't want to see them as enemies or as brutal people, I want them to see people like my father and my husband and the thousands of other wonderful people who are and have been law enforcement agents in the United States.

To change the image, we need justice. We need people standing up and saying this is not okay.   It is not okay to shoot a man for questionable reasons and leave his body laying in the street for four hours. It is not okay to choke a man until he dies.  It is not okay to let the questionable and corrupt actions of some law enforcement officers slide. Not only do these actions deny the value of the lives of black people, but these officers are not living out their duty to protect and serve the people in their communities.  It is not okay for them to get away with not doing their job. We cannot let that slide.

My father is currently on the Citizens' Police Review Board in his community. It is a group of citizens assigned to examine complaints against police officers in their community and to make recommendations about what actions should be taken. It is a way that the community can hold the police force accountable.  Though the board has no direct say on what happens to police officers who fail to protect and serve, they can be a voice against corruption. I want a Citizen's Police Review Board in every city across the United States. I want the board's demographics to reflect those of the community the board represents, and I want their voices to matter when it comes to reprimanding officers or taking cases against them to trial.

Perhaps it is also time to ensure that those who examine cases brought against police officers are not connected to the police department or the community those officers serve. We need impartial people reviewing the actions of police officers and deciding what actions need to be taken. The grand jury system doesn't appear to be working, and we perhaps need a different way of reviewing cases against our law enforcement officials.

Most importantly though, we need to connect the police force back to the community. We need to focus on training officers who can not only enforce the law, but also serve the people. I want law enforcement officers on the streets who genuinely care about the people they protect.
Ideally, they should be from the community itself and reflect the community's demographics.

I don't want to live in a world where people put up their hands in a gesture to say "Don't shoot".  I don't want to live in a country where people of color are afraid of the police.  I want a police force like the one I learned about growing up. I want men and women who are passionate about protecting and serving their communities patrolling the streets and I want officers who use force in inappropriate ways to be reprimanded accordingly. I want communities to be invested in their officers and officers invested in their communities.

This is not a lofty goal, but it takes commitment. We have to take seriously the critiques of persons of color against police officers and train our police force so they can serve all the people in their communities, not just the ones that look like them. We have to take seriously the actions of officers who use their force in inappropriate ways, especially when their use of force results in death.  We cannot stand for corruption within our police force and law enforcement system.  We have to commit to improving it. I want the primary image of a police officer in every community to be that of every wonderful and dedicated officer who puts their life on the line to protect and serve their community. I want them to imagine people like my husband and my dad.

Why do we go to church?

For the past several months, if not years, I have been musing over the question, "Why do we go to church?" It seems like a straightforward answer  and many would affirm that one goes to church to learn about and worship God. But if that is all church is about, then if one reads from the Bible, says their prayers, reads books on the subject, and has access to any number of resources online, why do we still get together in buildings? What is the point of gathering for worship?
My first inclination was to say that it is for the sacraments.  Indeed, I do not think I would be half the person I am if I didn't get some extra Jesus in my life through the Eucharist.  It slowly but surely helps me to become a little more like Jesus, week after week, wafer after wafer.  Jesus physically enters into the body and nourishes it. He transforms the physical body as well as the soul. There is nothing more awe inspiring to me than that.  Surely the sacraments must be why we go to church.
But then I look at the vast majority of protestant churches, with a variety of beliefs about the sacraments and a variety of time tables for when they receive them.  How can I say going to church is all about the sacraments when there are so many churches don't receive the Eucharist on a weekly basis or have different theologies about it? And what about the Quakers? They do not take physical sacraments at all, but rather experience spiritual baptism and communion.  What is the reason that all these groups continue to gather every week?
So I went back to the drawing board and I decided that it must be about community. This is why the church gathers, to be a community that can shape each other as everyone works to better understand who God is and how God is working in their lives.  It is all about learning from one another and growing with each other.  Indeed, if an individual tries to understand God on their own, there is a great likelihood that the god they worship will end up being their own ideas and interpretations.  How do they know if their ideas are valid unless they are challenged and molded by the others around them? But then what is to stop an entire church community from making their own false idols?  How easily do some churches become cults of a pastor's personality? Indeed, a church community is always in some way shaped by the personality of the person in charge. There is no getting around that fact. So how does being a part of a congregation help a person with their faith if their faith could potentially be led astray by the person in charge?
So I mulled about this for a while, knowing that what I felt about the sacraments was true and what I felt about community was true, but having trouble connecting the dots.
I also began to muse about why I went to chapel services at my seminary. To be honest, the mish-mash of traditions drives me a little batty. So do I go for my own spiritual edification? Yes and no.  Whether or not the preacher interests me or whether I think the service will be good hardly factors into why my butt is in the pew.  Is it some sense of duty? Kind of.  I left for a while and came back because I felt that it was important as the president of a student organization to be there. But if that were the only thing, I wouldn't feel a deeper need to be there. There was something else driving me besides my own sense of student leadership. And I could easily not go. A lot of people don't. That's not a judgment on anyone, I understand many of the reasons why people don't go and I don't go all the time. But more often than not, my butt is in that pew.
And that is where I found a piece of the answer that I was looking for.  I show up not because I think chapel will be terrific. I show up because you never know when Christ is going to come and say something important. Sometimes there's nothing of note that happens. I come, I do the worship routine, I leave. But sometimes something really unexpected happens. A song grabs me, a scripture startles me, or a sermon really gets me. Christ comes when I'm not really expecting Him. Christ can come at any moment.  And sometimes it's not even anything in the service order itself that strikes me. Sometimes it's the people around me. It's amazing to me how putting my butt in a pew has allowed me to meet more of my fellow students than I could have ever met in the halls. As we share together before services, we are able to connect in sometimes unexpected ways.
Finally I was able to piece together what it meant to go to church. A church service often contains all we need to better hear the call of Christ for our days and our lives. Sometimes Christ is felt in songs or scripture or sermon. Sometimes Christ is felt most in fellowship and feast. But Christ is always there. Indeed God is present in every element in our lives.  And it's not that we have to gather communally to worship, but when we do, when we come as God's People to hear God's Word, we can be changed. There is transformation power in community. There is resurrection power in the Word.  Sometimes the community doesn't always align perfectly with the Word.  It is resistant to where God is calling it, its doctrines don't always mesh up, but still it seeks. And when the Body of Christ sinks into the People of God and claims it as its own, things happen. Communities change. People are not the same. The Kingdom enters our kingdoms.
So why do we gather together? Why do we go to church? Because we believe that the Word of God can change lives. We believe that Christ can come into hearts at any given moment, and this isn't just a one time thing, but a continual thing, shaping people into the Body of Christ. And when the Body of Christ comes together and seeks God together, the Kingdom of God can enter the world. It may be only glimpses or foretastes, but those moments energize us and revitalize us for the work that will lead to the Kingdom truly inhabiting our planet. We come because we believe Christ can and does change the world.

Leaving Cape Town

My roommates have left, the apartment is empty, and I am cleaning up, preparing to turn over the keys and get on a plane tonight.  There has not been a single day when I was not homesick, when I did not long for my home with my fiance. And I am so excited to go back to him, to go back to our home and to our friends, and to our life together.

But this trip has been good for me. Besides being able to experience all the beauty around Cape Town, I have gotten to work with people I would not have considered partnering with before. I knew that I was going to learn about the religious experiences of sex workers, but I had no idea that I would be sharing office space with people who work in the office by day and sell sex at night. I have met many sex workers and played with their children. I have seen what it means for someone to be an impoverished transgender woman, but I've also seen their souls dance as they come together for support. I've learned about the struggles many people have on the street, and about the struggles people have in the townships. If one lives in either place, it is sometimes hard to keep dry. And in a cold winter when nobody has centrally heated homes, the wetter you are, the worse it gets. I've heard people talk about doing drugs just so they don't feel the cold and the wet at night.

I've also studied a lot and thought a lot about the church's theology of sex, and what it means to hold the idea that sex is something special and sacred, but also what it means when sex is a way to provide for yourself and your family. What does it mean to commodify sex? But then what also does it mean that economically, it is hard for many who come from poverty to leave poverty? What does it mean that unemployment rates nationwide in South Africa are high. What does it mean to have to support yourself and this job pays well when one gets enough clients?

But the most important thing I've learned is that Christ is not confined to those society would like to label as "decent". Christ sometimes shows up in the weirdest of places, like an organization that supports sex workers. They challenged my idea of who a Christian can be. I learned about experiences of growing up and moving away from the church, but I also learned about some who are faithful, who sit in that pew every Sunday, who pray and read their Bible, who have an active relationship with God, yet are also providing for themselves and their families through sex work. They made me wonder, who can a Christian be?

The complexity of Christianity is when we begin to see that others whom we would rather ignore or push out have the Holy Spirit in them too. Then we have to experience Christ in a new way, as active in the lives of those we would prefer he not work in. We must ask what being Christian means, what salvation means, what it actually looks like, and whether someone can be both saved and sinner, poor yet rich in heaven. It's complex. It's challenging. We have been struggling with it for over 2000 years.

And so as I get ready to leave South Africa, I think about them and I am grateful to have met them. I was homesick every day, I can't wait to go home, but this trip was good. These people are worth knowing, worth leaving my home and going halfway around the world to meet.

Cape Town Sex Workers and Christ

I still don't quite know how I ended up doing an internship with a sex worker advocacy organization called SWEAT in Cape Town, South Africa. Something called me to be here, and I think it was more than just being able to experience a South African winter instead of the heat of the American summer. I guess I wanted to learn from other's experiences, to sit and talk with those society is so quick to reject. I wanted to work with the oppressed, like Jesus did.
So far I've spent a week learning about the lives of sex workers, meeting them, and observing the programs they have put together to support each other. I've also spent a week examining my own stigma against sex work.  I would be lying if I said I was comfortable with the concept of people selling sex to make a living. I am not.  But the truth of the matter is that these workers are adults, whose average age is 27. They tend to be free agents, who aren't trafficked or pimped out.  They work because this work is profitable.  They can at least double the incomes that they could make in other jobs. And they aren't bad people. They are people who have chosen for whatever reason to do sex work. I may not  be comfortable with all of what their jobs entail, but I can support programs that seek to empower them and support them.  They are all God's children.
The other day, I went to observe a large support group for women sex workers.  They began their time together with a prayer.  During the break, one woman asked me what I was doing and told me that many sex workers are religious and active in churches and mosques. There is a spirituality, a yearning for God's love that runs deep within the veins of many of these workers, not just women, but men as well.  There is a dream that runs deep within many of these people that someday they might be able to work in a legal industry and be able to tell their religious leaders their profession without the fear that they might be kicked out or publicly condemned.
And in the background of all this, I see Jesus, walking up to a woman who has been condemned of adultery, about to be stoned to death.  He looks at the people, rocks in their hands, and says, "Whoever is without sin, cast the first stone." And the stones are laid down, and the people walk away.
I am learning to put down my stone and interact with others whose lives can seem so foreign to me. I am learning that sometimes the life that needs more Christ is not the other's, but my own. And may God use me so that I may help others become the whole people God created them to be.

3 Last Words of Jesus: Good Friday 2014

On Good Friday this year, I was asked to share in expounding upon the seven last words of Jesus.  I was given three of them.

"Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise"

Luke 23:42-43

            There were three men who were brought up the hill to be crucified that day.  One of them was Jesus, a man so weak; the soldiers forced Simon of Cyrene, who had been in the crowd, to carry his cross for him.  The soldiers kept mocking him, telling him that if he was the Messiah, if he was the King of the Jews, he could save himself.  They laughed as they hung the inscription above him, King of the Jews.

            But the other two hung there were there for good reason.  They were criminals, receiving the death sentence for the wrongs they had committed. Who knows what actions they may have done to deserve this sentence.  These criminals watched the proceedings along with the crowds, but they not only saw Jesus being nailed to the cross, they were nailed to their own as well.

            One of the criminals derided Jesus, just like the soldiers who were hanging him on the cross.  He mocked, saying,  “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” He laughed and jeered along with the others. He was upon a cross, a man condemned to die the same death as Jesus, yet even he was mocking Jesus. 

            The other criminal couldn’t take it.  He had seen the crowds and the soldiers mocking Jesus, and he had kept silent. But to hear someone mock Jesus as he was hanging next to him on a cross?  That he could not stand.  He stood up for Jesus, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.”

            It is unclear how much this man might have known about Jesus’ ministry.  What he did know was that Jesus should not be crucified.  He did not do anything that would warrant the death penalty.  He witnessed how Jesus had been treated, and he could not turn his back at the final insult hurled at Jesus. So he spoke up. 

            After he rebuked his fellow criminal, he turned to Jesus and said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Remember me when you come into your kingdom.  He looked at the inscription over Jesus’ head, and he confessed Jesus as King.  He understood who Jesus was. Even when everyone else was mocking Jesus and laughing at him, this criminal saw the Messiah.  He looked at a weak, bleeding body, a person who was nailed to a cross, and saw the Messiah.  When everybody else missed the Christ in their midst, a criminal dying on a cross saw him.  He saw him.

            I wonder how often we miss the Christ in our midst, the Messiah alongside us. How often do we go along with the crowd, mocking others? How often do we declare anybody to be less?  Less human, less deserving, less needy? How often do we fail to respect the dignity of every human being?

            But we don’t always fail.  Sometimes we see.  Sometimes we stand up.  Sometimes we fight for the dignity of others. Sometimes, in this world of pain, in a world that so often mocks the way of the cross, we find ourselves as the only ones who can stand up in the face of derision and rejection.  We recognize the body of Christ, still in our world.

In those moments, I imagine Jesus looking up, bloody and tired, hanging on a cross, but he looks us straight in the eyes, smiling a little as he says, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

"I am thirsty"

John 19:28

“I am thirsty” the Messiah cries.

The same Messiah who had talked with a woman of Samaria at a well, saying, “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty.”

This Messiah longs for a drink.

The same Messiah who told the crowds, “I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

This Messiah thirsts.

The same Messiah who cried out, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me, and let the one who believes in me drink.”

This Messiah cries, “I am thirsty.”

This man, this divine, feels the thirst of the world.

He feels the ache of the world.

All the pain and suffering ride upon his wounded back.

He leads us in expressing our want.

Our need.

Our thirst.

For our Messiah is thirsty.

As the deer longs for the water-brooks,

So our souls long for you, O God.

Our souls are athirst for God, athirst for the living God;

When shall we come to appear before the presence of God?

Why are you so full of heaviness, our souls?

And why are you so disquieted within us?

Put your trust in God;

For we will yet give thanks to him,

Who is the help of our countenance, and our God.

As the deer longs for the water-brooks,

So Jesus’ soul thirsted.

The heart of God ached upon that cross.

The fountain of life poured itself out.

The wellspring of life dripped its last drop.

Yet we can put our trust in God.

For we will yet give thanks to him,

Who is our savior, our help, and our God.

Oh God, you are our God; eagerly we seek you;

Our souls thirst for you, our flesh faints for you,

As in a barren and dry land where there is no water.

For your loving-kindness is better than life itself,

Our lips shall give you praise.

So will we bless you as long as we live,

And lift up our hands in your Name.

For you have been our helper,

And under the shadow of your wings we will rejoice.

Our souls cling to you;

Your right hand holds us fast.

The savior who said, “Let anyone who is thirsty come to me, and let the one who believes in me drink.” is thirsty;

Come let us give him drink.

Let us give him our hearts,

Let us bless him as long as we shall live.

"It is Finished" 

John 19:30

            We had spent the last few days going back and forth to the hospital.  We had a carefully planned calendar, ensuring that should Grandma’s time come, she would not be alone.  It had stopped being a matter of if she would die but when. We sang hymns to her, and we prayed for her.  Then one afternoon several of us were in her room, keeping our vigil.  The family was conversing, and I was spending my time coloring.  All of a sudden a deep quiet took over the room.  We all instinctively drew around her bed.  We watched as she took her last breaths.  She gasped once, twice, and then silence filled the room.  We began to pray. Her spirit left her, and later that week we put her body to rest.

            Jesus’ death looked different from my grandmother’s death.  She was in her seventies dying of a long-term illness in a hospital bed.  Jesus was in his thirties.  He was beaten, wounded, and nailed to a cross.  His death was violent.  But just like my grandmother’s death, there were some who kept vigil, waiting with him, making sure he was not alone.  I can imagine the three Marys and the beloved disciple gathered around the foot of Jesus’ cross.  They had never expected to find themselves here, they did not wish for this to be happening, but here they were and they could not look back.  It was no longer a question of if Jesus would die, but when.  They kept their vigil at the foot of the cross, watching and waiting.  Then all of a sudden there came a quiet upon them.  They instinctively drew closer to Jesus.  They knew his time was near.  Then they heard his final words, “It is finished.” He took his last few breaths, gasping once, twice, and then silence filled the earth. He gave up his spirit.  Then they too, working with Joseph of Arimathia and Nicodemus, put Jesus’ body to rest.

            Dying is a sacred act.  Death is a sacred moment.  Every last breath both releases a spirit and fills this world with a hole, a place of emptiness, where someone once was, but is no longer.  There is an ache. There is a loss.

            The three Marys and the beloved disciple were able to witness the most sacred of these moments, the moment when the Messiah who had been incarnate in the world was no longer.  He gave up his spirit.  With that came a deep ache and a deep loss.  There was a Christ shaped hole left in this world. 

            We know that this is not the end of the story, but today, let us contemplate the absence felt that day.  Jesus had been the Christ, living in the world.  He laughed, he cried, he touched people.  He was in flesh. Then it all got taken away.  In less than a week Jesus went from a beloved healer and revolutionary figure to dying on the cross. The crowds that once cried “Hosanna” had turned around and began to chant, “Crucify him.” When he was led off, his mother, Mary Magdalene, Mary the wife of Cleopas and the beloved disciple came and watched vigil over him in his time of need, so he would not die alone.  Then, finally, after several hours of agony, he said simply, “It is finished” and he died.  The loss of Jesus left a deep pain and a deep hole in the world.  Those who followed him must have felt that the incarnation had come to an end.  There would be no more Messiah. God would no longer walk beside them.  This death was a truly sacred and a truly painful moment.