Transcript 1.b: Mary M. con’t

Things were getting tense. The Pharisees were obviously pooling their mental resources and coming out to ask Teacher questions merely to trip him up. How he managed to keep his cool through all that, I’ll never know. Especially when they brought the woman they’d caught in adultery to him! I was so angry and appalled and felt shamed for her. I wanted so much to go out there and just stand with her, but I was so scared. [Pause.] I wish I could have done that. Maybe I could, now. [Clears throat.] Well, in the end the Teacher had the last word. “Let anyone who’s never sinner throw the first stone.” How do you respond to that? You don’t, you can’t. What they did was really all they could do, really. They just left, all of them. And then the teacher asked the woman “where are your accusers?” And she responded “no where around here.” She was in shock. Teacher said, “I don’t accuse you either. Go and don’t sin this way again.” She left quickly, but just like someone who’s been staring down a knife. She didn’t quite understand how it was her life was spared. I don’t think any of us really understood except the Teacher.

That’s just an example of how bad things were getting before the Passover, as we were pushing towards Jerusalem.

Then the Teacher sent some of the men out to find a colt and we all thought “this is it.” What it was, I’m not sure, although I think most of us still thought it was going to be a political overthrow. Kingdoms are about governments, right? That’s what we thought would happen–I figured it would be a bloodless coup, since none of us could really fight, but I think many of the men thought Teacher would just turn them into warriors, like he healed people, with a word.

It was amazing and glorious and tense, that entry. All those people, waving palm branches, putting coats in the road, shouting “Hosanna!” In the end, we didn’t even stay in the city overnight–it was so crowded because of the Passover and I think Teacher knew things would come to a head too quickly if we stayed. So we’d spend the night in Bethany and go into Jerusalem during the day so the Teacher could preach and teach again. And cleanse the temple one last time!

I was there at the Passover meal–his last meal. I made myself useful by helping to cook and serve the meal. It was worth it to be near the Teacher. And then he did the thing that shocked us all. Have you heard about it? That he wrapped a towel around his waist and washed the disciples’ feet? It was shocking. It still takes my breath away. Here was the man we were looking forward to crowning as King, washing our feet, lower than the lowest servant.

His arrest. No, I wasn’t there. Isn’t that crazy? As someone who worked so hard to stay as close as possible to the Teacher…I wasn’t there. In a way, I’m glad. I don’t know how I would have responded. Would I have tried to grab a sword, like Peter? Actually, I suspect I would have screamed and tried to in front of him–the mothering instinct, I guess. I heard what had happened while he was being “tried” at the Sanhedrin, if you can call it there. I couldn’t get too close, it was so crowded–and to be honest, we were frightened. [Question.] Oh, me and the other two Marys. We had seen Peter, but he acted like he didn’t know us–he was really struggling…

Anyway, we followed from the Sanhedrin to Herod’s palace. We’d hardly arrived when Herod shunted Teacher off to the Roman authorities. It was awful. Pilate kept coming out…it was clear he didn’t know what to do with the Teacher. He’d try and release him, but the Pharisees convinced the crowd to agitate for the death penalty. When Mary (Teacher’s mother) first heard this, she almost fainted. We all protested, but we were shouted down by the crowd. That was the closest I have ever been to a riot. [Makes a shuddering sound.] After a while it was like the crowd had become a single entity, a beast, just out to consume Teacher Jesus.

That’s when Pilate attempted to release Jesus. By then it was too late, the Pharisees had incited the crowd to the point that they’d settle for nothing less than death for the teacher. That was where John joined us, about the time Herod had sent the teacher out to be flogged. It was excruciating. He received the maximum number of lashes allowed under Roman law, you know. I don’t see how anyone could endure that kind of treatment and remain alive, let alone standing. I don’t know how the Teacher did it…

Then Pilate released Teacher to the solders to be crucified.

 

Transcript 1.a: Mary M.

Pietro Perugino’s Mary Magdalene, c. 1500.

Hi, it’s nice to finally meet you. Oh, are you recording all of this? Wow, that’s impressive–and actually I really appreciate it. I’ve heard so many oddball stories about the Teacher floating around. I’m glad you’re taking the time to get things right.

My name? Mary. There are so many of us “Marys” around the teacher most every called me Mary Magdaline. Occupation? Really? OK, well, let’s just say “disciple.” How did I meet him. Mmmm. There’s a lot there….let’s just say I was as desperate as anyone who came to him. I had 7 demons cast out of me, you know. There are plenty of people happy to bend your ear with stories of my past–and most of them are true! [Laughs.] But it’s not good for me to dwell on those. That’s all I want to say about that.

[Out of range question.]

Right. Sure. Well, I can only really give you my own story. If you want particulars on his teaching you’ll need to track down Matthew–he’s more the record-keeping type. Me, I’m more about relationships. I just wanted to be around Teacher, that’s all I wanted. I can tell you why that’s true, if you like.

After he removed the demons from me, I felt such freedom! I’d never experienced anything like that before. You’d think someone like me, who didn’t care a fig for anything anyone said about them would know what freedom is, but that just not true. Demons are not about freedom–it’s like being in a cage that’s slightly to small for you with 7 tigers added in…only worse. [Shudders visibly.] Sorry, I need to leave that alone. [Pause.] Yes, freedom. But it was more than freedom. I felt clean. That wasn’t even something I was looking for. It’s like what the prophet Ezekiel said, about being sprinkled with clean water and being cleansed of all your impurities and idols. That actually makes sense to me now. [Trails off.]

Pardon? Sorry, I miss him a lot. Yes, I followed him from that point on. I just couldn’t get enough! The freedom that I experienced in the moment those demons left me, the cleanness, the sense of rightness of all that–I only found that in the Teacher. So I just didn’t leave. I followed him everywhere. I pushed to the front of the crowds, I sat at his feet, quite literally. I gave money to support him. And when he’d go off to be with the Twelve–and understand, I don’t begrudge a man his male friends–I would find any way I could to stay close. I’d serve dinner, I’d sit outside the door…whatever.

[Out of range question.]

You’re right, that is a delicate question. Or perhaps it would be more proper to say an “indelicate” question. Trust a Roman to ask it. Look, the Teacher was the embodiment of our Law. I’ve never seen someone so single-minded, so put together. As far as I can tell, he never fell short of the Law. There were things that he did that looked like law-breaking to others, like the time when he cleaned out moneylenders and sacrifice vendors from the temple–but when he explained that he was cleansing the temple, how these vendors were leaving no place for the Gentiles to worship, it made perfect sense. And he told us that the Law was made for man and not man for the Law. I’m still unpacking THAT one! But whenever one of the Pharisees would point out some niggly way in which he was law-breaking, he’d turn it on its head and show them how they were law-breaking. His law-breaking got closer to the heart of the Law, the Decalogue you know. Then he even boiled that down further and said the essence of the Law was to love the Father with all our heart, soul, mind and strength and to love our neighbors as ourselves. He was always turning things to show you a way of thinking of it that you’d never done before.

I’m sorry? Right, yes, fine. The answer is NO, I never saw the Teacher deal any woman–or man for that matter, Roman–in any way that was inappropriate within the Law. I won’t say there weren’t women among us who wanted a more intimate relationship with him. But if you got to thinking that way you’d have some encounter with him where he made you feel so honored and respected, even loved–you’d suddenly feel like it was possible to live your life without a husband, just to be close to him. That’s how satisfying it was just to be with him. We gave up the comforts of home and the protection and love of family just to be with him.

So for a while, things were great. We all traveled together from place to place, listening to the Teacher, marveling at his healings, looking out for each other. We never lacked for food. Sometimes we’d end up sleeping on the ground outside, but no one ever had to do that alone, and I don’t think anyone begrudged it. We all wanted to be there, you see, and we all supported each other–just like Teacher wanted it.

[Next segment: 1.b: On Jesus Christ’s death & resurrection]

The answer to Jesus’ question

You say:
“Knock and I’ll answer. Seek and find me.”

I can’t rise from my chair to reach the door.
Seeking sounds like work.

You say:
“Come to me when you’re weary and worn out.
You’ll find real rest with me.”

I roll from this lazy-boy into a loveseat with you.
You take my troubles, you calm my fevered thinking.
Is this what an easy yoke is?

You say:
“I’m standing at your door. I’m knocking.
I’m calling your name. Won’t you come?”

I will answer the door, but I’m not sure I can leave the house.
Are you wooing or cajoling me?

You say:
“The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.
Watch and pray with me.”

I say:
“Lord, your disciples couldn’t stay awake for a single hour!
What makes you think I can?”

You say:
“Parents on this planet know how to give good gifts to their children.”

I interrupt:
“We’re talking fish and bread here.”

You finish:
“How much more will our Father in Heaven give
the Holy Spirit
to those that ask?”

…How much more…

I will ask, I will seek, I will knock, I will pray.
Come Holy Spirit.

Relationships need reconcilation

This is a post I wrote for Light of Christ Anglican Church in Kenosha, WI as part of a Lenten call to prayer for our church. Click here to read the original.

Today I found myself dwelling on this point on our prayer card:

“Ask [God] to help all our elders follow the example of Christ in wisdom, knowledge, compassion, reconciliation and servant leadership.”

Though we’re praying this for our leadership, reconciliation is something we all need, because what matters most in our lives is our relationships–be they with the Lord or with our human family and friends. There’s our relationship and integration into Christ’s bride, the Church, which can also be fractured. These are key relationships, and reconciliation is the mechanism we need to reconnect when we have turned from them in some way. Reconciliation isn’t just about confession of blatant sins, it is attending to what is strained, stressed, fatigued or broken in our relationships.

Let’s look at this first from a positive angle: Any improvement we make in a close relationship makes an improvement in our other relationships. For example, when John scrapes the frost off my car window on Sunday morning, I come to church feeling loved. When I feel loved, I enter more easily into praise and worship of God. Conversely, if after walking the dog, pulling all my Sunday School materials together and heaving them into the car, I still need to scrape my windows, I may or may not feel anything against John, but I may feel “burdened” by this long winter…and that may translate to how I’m feeling about God. Is this fair to either John or God? No, but if John had not expressed his love for me in scraping my car window, I would have had greater difficultly entering in to worship. (It goes without saying that the reverse is true as well–when I’ve felt “met” by God in prayer or worship, I have more patience, love, compassion, etc. available to John.)

Reconciliation comes in where something we have done or not done strains a relationship. Let’s say that John had not scraped my car window, but rather buried my Sunday School materials under a pile of sound equipment that I had to dig through, making me late. Maybe he did this because he was running late himself and was digging for a specific cable needed that morning and unintentionally buried my materials. It doesn’t matter to me if he had a good reason or not–I am hurt by his actions and must talk to him to clear the air and potentially extend forgiveness to him. After we are reconciled, there is restoration of the trust in the relationship and love can flow unobstructed again.

Our leaders have been working hard to be reconciled and keep short accounts with each other so that God’s love can make its mark between us. Are you doing the same? Are you feeling dissatisfied or distant from someone who should be close to you? Are there any relationships that intrude when you sit down to pray? Do you feel disgruntled with God? These are all signs that something may need mending in your relationships. Pray this prayer and include yourself in it. Look for things you can do that will make love increase between you and others. Where there is a broken relationship, pray and seek God’s healing that love can flow unobstructed again.

Inspired

Last night at my house group we got into a discussion on hope. Hope is a difficult virtue for me to understand. I am naturally wired for faith, I have been coming to a greater understanding of love, but hope is still tricky. I can describe its characteristics–buoyant, bright, anticipating, open, wondering–but its essence eludes me. Perhaps bright and buoyant things can’t be grasped so much as entered into….and I am a world-class grasper and grappler.

I have been wondering lately why it is I find goals de-motivating. Did I fall short so often as a child? Were my goals unreasonable? I spend a great deal of my life plodding, moving from one thing to the next, completing tasks but taking no great joy from them.

Then there is this blog. I haven’t written for some time. I’ve wondering about switching focus with it, wondering if I just have too much to do to make time for it, if it really does anything other than make me feel momentarily better about my life. I want to write, but I get stuck in the day-to-day plodding, burrowing my head so far into my “To Do” list that I never lift it to reorient myself.

Today I discovered WordPress’ ebook on 365 topics for bloggers. That’s a topic a day, by date. I downloaded it and started paging through: “Start your blog with the first sentence of your favorite book,” “write about how you respond in a crisis,” “your house is on fire–what five items do you grab?” The topics aren’t me, but something inside me stirred and prompted: “This is possible.”

What is possible? To write every day for a year? To set a goal and keep it? To think and write outside of the “To Do” list? To feel something kindling within that’s related to an aspect of my life? I’m not sure what is lighting up inside me, but it’s bright and open and anticipating….and hopeful.

Lord, let me find my way to hope in you through whatever channel you provide. Let me see and be inspired by the brightness, the light, the joy, the Presence you saturate this world in. Amen.

Christmas Quiet, Christmas Celebration

“The Adoration of the Shepherds,” by Gerard van Honthorst.

From Luke 2 (NLT):

…And while they were there, the time came for her baby to be born. She gave birth to her first child, a son. She wrapped him snugly in strips of cloth and laid him in a manger, because there was no lodging available for them.

That night there were shepherds staying in the fields nearby, guarding their flocks of sheep. Suddenly, an angel of the Lord appeared among them, and the radiance of the Lord’s glory surrounded them. They were terrified, but the angel reassured them. “Don’t be afraid!” he said. “I bring you good news that will bring great joy to all people….Suddenly, the angel was joined by a vast host of others—the armies of heaven—praising God and saying,

“Glory to God in highest heaven, and peace on earth to those with whom God is pleased.”

This short passage is marked by two very different responses to the same event, the birth of Christ. The first is the very normal, perhaps even mundane reaction to the birth of a baby to poor parents: to clothe him in comforting cloth and find a bed for him in whatever is handy–an animal’s feeding trough. Mary and Joesph, probably deeply disappointed that they could not have their child at home in Nazareth, adapt and improvise as best they can. Despite the mean circumstances, this child of God lacks for nothing: Jesus has clothing, a bed, food a roof over his head, loving human parents. God has provided every good thing for Jesus.

Contrast this with what the shepherds get to witness–the breaking open of heaven itself! Hundreds, perhaps thousands of angels singing in celebration! There is a party going on in heaven and the shepherds have been invited to participate. They are filled with wonder and awe and it is that practically disbelieving wonder and awe that cause them to act on the “instructions” given to them–to seek out the child wrapped in bands of cloth lying in the manger.

The shepherds bridge the gap between the celebration in heaven (too deafening for a baby’s ears) and the quiet, unfamiliar strangeness of the barn, reconciling both at the manger where God’s Son lay. The celebration quiets but the awe continues as they see that exactly what the angels said is true. As they marvel, they bring the encouragement of God with them–Mary and Joesph are not forgotten, God has not cast out his Son. Everything is as it should be, Jesus, born to be humble, yet still inspiring awe and wonder.

As we celebrate the birth of Jesus the Christ, what is your perspective on the event? Are you weighed down by your circumstances, discouraged, wishing you could do better for your family? Or are you excited, rejoicing in with the angels, brimming with love and good old-fashioned Christmas cheer?

I pray as we enter Christmastide we minister to each other: encouraging the discouraged in their needed quiet, ministering joy to those working hard, or joining in the excited celebration of heaven. May we all meet together around the manager in whatever state we’re in and share in the love God’s Son, Jesus.

Shine

Matthias Grunewald’s Resurrection, painted as an altarpiece at a monastic hospital in Isenheim, Alsace.

“Arise, shine, for your light has come,
and the glory of the Lord has risen over you.”
–Isaiah 60:1

At this time of the year when the days are grey, light is short and we cope with the increasing cold, we shrink and settle into ourselves, become more concerned with our own appetites, staying warm, retaining energy. Isaiah’s words burst into our souls like the rays a summer sun. Just reading about God’s light and glory rising lifts my soul from its winter hibernation.

God does’t stop at our reaction to his light. “Lift your eyes round about, and see!” says the Lord. Sons and daughters return to their parents; there is reconciliation and prospering of families. And what’s this? Ships from far off come, foreigners come, and all who come have something to contribute to the riches of God’s kingdom. Above it all the city of Zion, the footstool of God, is made glorious:

“The Lord will be your everlasting light,
and your God will be your glory.
Your sun shall no more go down,
nor your moon withdraw itself;
for the Lord will be your everlasting light,
and your days of mourning shall be ended.”

My prayer this Advent is to learn what it means to shine–to arise, to reflect God’s glory, to be compelling as he is compelling because it is he who is being compelling in me. (If that doesn’t make sense you might want to read my last blogpost.)  To allow the brightness of Christ to bring me into his presence, to lift my eyes from my circumstances, to display that reflected glory to those all around me.

Lord, let our days of our mourning pass, let your glory shine so that I may arise and shine also. Come, Emmanuel, God with us. Come, Lord Jesus, let your glory be revealed. Amen.

How would Jesus witness?

Zacchaeus in the Sycamore Awaiting the Passage of Jesus (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I grew up in a church tradition that put a strong emphasis on personal witnessing of Christ. You never knew when the Lord might “call upon you” to “give your personal testimony.” There was not much clarity about what that meant, or how to accomplish it. I will say that our Sunday evening church services were dedicated to singing hymns and “giving testimony,” which seemed to me to be a bunch of people standing up to give a list of things they were apparently grateful for in what seemed to me to be a very dour manner.

As a result of these instructions and modeling, I recognized that my own “personal witness” was not very compelling. If I didn’t find laundry lists of how the Lord had met me very compelling myself, why would some non-Christian? Come to think of it, didn’t everyone get “met” in these ways? To top it off, the sense of “being ready at any time” to give my testimony made me feel as though there could be a heavenly pass/fail pop quiz at any moment and gave me an anxiety when hanging around unbelievers.

This has been slowly changing for me in a couple of ways. The first is that I’m truly grateful to the Lord for what he has done for me. Gratitude expressed in humility begets joy. Suddenly when I talk about “what the Lord has done” it’s neither abstract nor passionless–it’s personal and filled with joy. When that happens, our personal testimony is compelling because it doesn’t just tell you about Jesus–he inhabits our testimony, and that is truly Good News.

The other change is that I’m realizing how compelling Jesus really is! Earlier in the week I was reading the story of Zacchaeus. From what little we know, Zacchaeus had only heard about Jesus, but from what little he’d heard, Zacchaeus had to see him! So this self-important, wealthy, prominent and yes, probably hated tax collector, knew nobody was going to let him to the front of the line to catch a glimpse–so he climbed a tree. Imagine his surprise when Jesus stops, calls him out by name and tells him he is hosting the Son of Man that afternoon! Then, hearing all the snide comments being made, Zacchaeus gives half of his wealth away, and offers restitution to any he has cheated. This response to Jesus is Zacchaeus’ salvation. (Read Luke 19:1-10 for the full story.)

Jesus doesn’t want us to worry about our testimony, even when we’re being challenged by people who are hostile to him (see Luke 21:13-15). What he wants is for us to live our lives seeking after him. Our response to him is our testimony, but it is giving that testimony in a way that is filled with Jesus’ presence that makes it the Good News.

Wherein I encourage myself

candles (Photo credit: rogerglenn)

This is a busy week, spiritually speaking. Tomorrow night is my house group, on Thursday our bishop is visiting and Saturday we’re having a women’s retreat, which I’m doing some teaching for.

And I’m sitting here scrolling through my blog.

I started scrolling originally because I thought there might be some material I here could recycle for my talk on Saturday (I’ll be doing a little teaching on spiritual disciplines) but instead I find myself captivated by what I’ve written. Some of it is good–very good–some of it not so much. But there is a thread of the Spirit there, bright and strong, even when I’m discouraged at the time. There it is, Christ in me and he is marvelous in my eyes.

I’m not typically one of those people who re-reads what they write. Even though I have journalled a great deal as an adult, my journals are snapshots of my struggles. God is at work, yes, but sometimes it’s just me telling myself that as I thrash around, entangled in my own sin or human limitations.

Here I have written about what I have learned–learned deeply–from God. Reading older entries reveals God as he has revealed himself to me in the middle of my own mundane life. Through the mundane he sparkles and dances, leaps from the screen. I am carrying the light of Christ, and this is my lampstand.

This past Sunday Fr. Eirik shared a quote from Michael Ramsey; “There are people who make God near. That’s the marvelous thing that we do to one another.”

I hope that some of what been published here has made God near to you. Glory be to God, who can do infinitely more than we ask or imagine!

Know scripture to know Christ

I recently received an email from a friend titled “Ignorance of Scripture is ignorance of Christ.” My gut-level reaction? “What an obnoxious thing to say!” However, knowing my friend well, I scrolled to the bottom of the email. Who said this conceited thing? Jerome. You know, Jerome of Stridonium? Early church father? Translator of the Bible into Latin, known in Catholic circles as a Doctor of the Church? Yes, that Jerome. Being that I live and move and have my being in a tradition that respects its elders, particularly this set of them, I sighed deeply, shelved my effrontery and read the sermon she sent, which didn’t adhere very tightly to its title.

Yet the phrase has stuck in my mind: “Ignorance of Scripture is ignorance of Christ.” The recovering Evangelical in me scoffs at this statement. Please. It brings to mind all of the things I dislike about my church upbringing: the gold standard of scripture memorization–talked about much more than done. Upholding the Bible as containing everything necessary for salvation, shouldering the Holy Spirit out of the picture, sometimes even Jesus. Dissecting short passages of scripture, looking at the Greek and the Hebrew but not effectively reassembling the whole into something enriched by the education, just leaving the text dismembered. This left me vulnerable to Cartesian dualism in college. I have good reason to be wary of a phrase like this.

Of course, there is definitely a part of me–let’s call it the evangelical with the small e–that recognizes the truth here. It is very difficult to know Christ outside of the scripture. While I’ve heard some amazing missionary stories (from my Evangelical upbringing) about people who found Christ before a missionary ever set foot in their country, usually those stories end with a missionary setting foot on their soil and hearing how the new Christian has been praying for someone to come and explain to them who Christ is!

In order to know someone, you have to spend time with them and the primary way we get to know Jesus–since he doesn’t generally walk into our lives and sit down for a cuppa tea–is to read scripture.

Now that I’ve defused the phrase for myself, I realize something else: I think of “knowing scripture” as studying/memorizing scripture. I learned long ago that Bible study is the fast way for me to move from listening to God to learning about him. Learning about God is not a bad thing. But when we humans move into a straight-up observational mode we can easily stop identifying with the subject, objectifying them, or even stalking them. (Do this with any celebrities?) If we are not learning about God or Christ in conversation with him, we run the risk of increasing our knowledge without actually “knowing” him any better.

So how do I apply myself to scripture in a way that helps me to know God? For me, it’s about knowing, retelling and applying the stories of Scripture. Think about the woman caught in adultery. She was brought to Jesus and thrown at his feet. The Pharisees explain the situation and ask Jesus “What would you do?” And what does he do? He bends down and scratches in the dirt. He takes a deep breath. He collects himself, then he says: “Let anyone here who doesn’t sin throw the first stone.” Isn’t this brilliant? He, in one phrase, saves the woman, probably saves his own neck and sends the Pharisees away ashamed. Ashamed! The righteous Pharisees get a set-down from Jesus. This story inspires awe, amazement and respect for Jesus in me. This is the kind of guy I want to hang out with!

Figure out the best way for you to know Jesus personally–meaning as a person–and look for him in that way. You do need scripture to know Jesus, but you might need to know scripture in a different way to know Jesus in the best way.