In Good Faith: Not According to Plan

In my April In Good Faith column I write about the unexpected Palm Sunday spent in a hospital room and the ways in which even the liturgical calendar doesn't bend to our own wills. For those keeping score at home, Ben continues to heal from his collapsed lung.

Not According to Plan

This past weekend, Christians throughout the world marked the holiest days of the Christian

What a difference a week makes!

year. We moved into the Upper Room on Maundy (Holy) Thursday as we experienced the Last Supper and the institution of the Eucharist, Jesus’ offering to become as a servant among us to wash the disciples’ feet, and the giving of a New Commandment as Jesus encourages us to love one another as he loves us. We experienced the agony of the cross on Good Friday as Jesus was betrayed and handed over to be crucified. We experienced the passover from death to life, dark to light, Lent to Easter at the Great Paschal Vigil. And we reveled in the glow of the Resurrection and the joy of the empty tomb on Easter Day. 

It is a full, intense, gut-wrenching kaleidoscope of emotions and, when fully lived into, a reminder that the Christian life, while transformative, is not an easy journey to embark upon. The heart of the Christian faith is emblematic of the human condition in its raw pain but in the end, it holds out an uncompromising vision of hope. Death is not the end; the fullness of joy awaits those who put their whole faith and trust in Jesus — as inconceivable as the story may seem to those with a more rational bent.

The reality is that the death and resurrection cycle is not relegated to a particular three days in the spring calculated by the lunar calendar. Moments of death and resurrection know no time frame. Which is perhaps why I spent Palm Sunday in an Emergency Room at South Shore Hospital. This day that marks Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem takes place the Sunday before Easter. It offers Christians an ancient portal into the events of Holy Week and the last days of Jesus’ earthly pilgrimage. Most people think of the palms themselves and the processions that take place outside churches as worshippers shout “Hosanna” and reenact Jesus entrance into the city where he would be crucified.

On Palm Sunday, following the procession and the waving of palms, the liturgy quickly turns. Suddenly the Passion gospel is read, often with the congregation taking the role of the crowd, and in an instant the joyful cry of “Hosanna!” is replaced with shouts of “Crucify!” The events soon begin to spiral out of control and chaos reigns for a week until Mary Magdalene arrives at Jesus’ tomb on that first Easter morning to find it empty. That’s when the whole world changes and all our preconceived notions are flipped upside down.

But back to the ER. Late on Saturday night, our 18-year-old son, Ben, started complaining of sharp chest pains. No traumatic event, just excruciating pain in an otherwise healthy young man. After various tests — EKGs, x-rays, CT scans, he was diagnosed with a collapsed lung. A spontaneous pneumothorax to be precise. Thus began 48 hours in the hospital. He’s on the mend now but we’re all healing from the fraught emotion of it all. When your son looks up at you and says, “I don’t want to die,” there’s an internal death and resurrection cycle that takes place within your own soul.

Whatever is happening in your own life — a medical issue, the death of a loved one, the end of a relationship, deep depression, feelings of unworthiness, unchecked sin — know that you are not alone. The God who has experienced the very worst of the human condition is with you. Loving you, tending to you, comforting you. These cycles of our lives don’t always fit neatly into the calendar. Life is a constant adjustment. But you are not alone. My son is not alone. We are not alone. And that is the good news, the joyous news, of Easter as we collective move from “Hosanna” to “Crucify” to “Alleluia.”

"Mary Had a Little Lamb" -- rebooted

With sheep on the brain in light of this weekend's Good Shepherd Sunday, I can't get "Mary Had a Little Lamb" out of my head. Fortunately, I'm not noodling on the annoying children's ditty but the version by the late great Texas blues rocker, Stevie Ray Vaughn. 

I'm a huge fan of Stevie and this is actually one of my favorite tunes of his. I love how he took something so innocuous and completely turned it on its docile head. I mean, who knew that such a simple nursery rhyme about a lamb being taken to school could actually ROCK?

But I also think this is a fabulous metaphor for the image of the Good Shepherd itself. We've sentimentalized it to such a degree through bad art and plates by the Franklin Mint, that we've lost the radical nature of this statement. 

So just as Stevie Ray Vaughn reimagines "Mary Had a Little Lamb," I'd encourage you to reimagine the whole notion of Jesus as the Good Shepherd. Reflect on this image not as something divorced from its context but set within it -- read the previous chapter of John to see that it was born out of a conflict with the Pharisees. Jesus doesn't just stand up one day and decide to talk about sheep.

The fleece of our souls may be as white as snow but sometimes they get dirty. Sometimes the fleece literally gets dragged through the mud. It’s not light and fluffy as much as it is wet, smelly, and filthy. 

Yet, that’s precisely when Jesus seeks us out, reaches out to us, and holds us in his arms. It’s easy to be a good shepherd when the sheep are fluffy and docile and the sun is shining. It’s a different vocation entirely when the storms arise and the wolf encircles the flock. That’s when the Good Shepherd makes his identity known. And that’s when Jesus lovingly calls you back by name.

So, Mary may have had a little lamb. Fine. But we have the Good Shepherd. And that rocks.

Good Shepherd Disasters

Good Shepherd Sunday. It comes around every year on the Fourth Sunday of Easter. And it's full of sheep. Lots and lots of sheep. We hear the passage from John's gospel where Jesus proclaims, "I am the Good Shepherd." We read the familiar lines of the 23rd Psalm, "The Lord is my shepherd." We sing hymns with pastoral references like "Shepherd of Souls Refresh and Bless."

Preachers either love this day because of the powerful and comforting metaphors or, if they've been at  it for awhile, feel like they've already said everything they could ever possibly say about sheep. This year I stand somewhere in the middle -- thinking I really should have brought in a guest preacher from New Zealand.

Anyway, as I was thinking about the image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd I remembered the tiny Good
Shepherd chapel at the Washington National Cathedral. I wanted to remind myself exactly what it looked like as I had a pretty powerful spiritual experience there the day before I was ordained a deacon.

What I learned was never, ever google images of the Good Shepherd. There are some horrendous examples of "art" out there which may well forever ruin this wonderful image for you. Think I'm joking? Fine. Take a look for yourself. Just remember, I warned you...

Thank you Franklin Mint. If your intention was to make Jesus look like
Mitchell from Modern Family but with long hair, you've succeeded. 

Jesus as Fabio. Next time add a breeze so he gets that sexy windblown look. 

You do know that this was just a metaphor, right? Jesus wasn't actually a shepherd.
He called disciples, not a flock.

Ah, the romance of holding a lamb by the light of the moon. Creepy. 

Jesus is about to wack you with a crowbar. Better wipe that goofy grin off your face, sheepy.

Hearts. Rainbows. It's like eating Lucky Charms!

Jesus as Chuck Norris? "Watch me use my flying roundhouse kick to turn this thing into a lamb chop."

"I use this crown of thorns as a scrunchie to keep the long flowing locks out of my face."

"You once were lost, but now you're found -- so hold still while I snap your neck."

Jesus as Faberge Egg meets Frankie Avalon as the teen angel 
singing "Beauty School Dropout" in Grease.

Disco Jesus busts a move. White man overbite optional.

"This sheep is like psychedelic, man."

Jesus channels his inner Angus Young from AC/DC. 
"Back in Black Sheep"

Index of First Lines: Easter Snark Edition

My poor blog gets neglected every Lent. With Lent Madness getting all my online attention and creative energy, this space withers away like a poor, neglected stepchild.

Fortunately for everyone concerned, I have crawled out of my post-Easter fetal position and have once again been inspired by my muse: coffee.

If you're familiar with the Episcopal Church's Hymnal 1982, you know how to find your favorite hymn when all you can remember is the first few words. You flip to the back, to the invaluable "Index of First Lines."

With Easter on my mind since, you know, it lasts for 50 Days of Fabulous, I thought I'd take a look. Hence, here is the...

Index of First Lines: Easter Snark Edition

1. "Now the green blade riseth" -- Yeah, it's spring. Get a lawnmower.

2. "Come, ye faithful, raise the strain" -- After a long winter, it's time to return to the gym. And strain a bicep.

3. "This joyful Eastertide" -- Low tide always smells less like Easter lilies and more like rotting fish.

4. "Christ Jesus lay in death's strong bands" -- Are you sure this is actually an Easter hymn?

5. "He is risen, he is risen" -- Insert middle school Viagra joke.

6. "The strife is o'er, the battle done" -- The strife may be o'er, but this hymn goes on forever.

7. "We walk by faith and not by sight" -- Especially at the beginning of the Easter Vigil when we stumble around in the dark with fire.

8. "Welcome, Happy Morning, age to age shall say" -- Actually nobody has ever said this. In any age.

9. "Christ is alive! Let Christians sing" -- Um, we already are singing. It's an Easter hymn.

10. "Jesus Christ is risen today" -- Thank you, Captain Obvious.

In Good Faith: Extending the Joy

My latest "In Good Faith" column reminds us that it's okay to keep downing Peeps -- the advantage of living into the 50-days of Eastertide.

Extending the Joy

Fear not. For behold, I bring you tidings of great joy: Easter is not just a single day but a 50-day season of resurrection glory! Thus, you can keep the jelly bean sugar high going with reckless abandon. Grab those Peeps (which taste better when they're slightly stale anyway). Finish the giant chocolate bunny you've already decapitated. Live into the joy without guilt.

You can always start the diet the day after Pentecost (June 8th this year), the last day of the Easter season. The wise reader, or the one studying for the SATs, will make the connection between 50 and the pente root of Pentecost (think pentagon -- five sided). Pentecost literally means fiftieth day in Greek.

Etymology lesson aside, the Church has celebrated Easter as a 50-day season for generations. This tends to be forgotten in our Hallmark skip-ahead-to-the-next-holiday culture, but it’s important to take some time to bask in the warm glow of the resurrection. After all, it’s the seminal event in the Christian faith so what’s the rush?

Plus, living in the Boston area, we could use that extra dose of joy. I was particularly struck this year that the Boston Marathon took place the day after Easter. To varying degrees we were all affected by last year’s tragedy and Patriots Day 2014 turned into one long day of regional catharsis, which we all needed. I ran the race in 2008 and at one level I couldn't even imagine what last week’s event was like. The crowds, the emotion, the global news coverage were all unprecedented.

But at another level, I knew exactly what it was like. Not because I once turned that corner onto Boylston Street and dragged myself the last four blocks to the finish line amid throngs of cheering spectators -- I barely remember that. But because the 118th running of the Boston Marathon was a tangible sign of resurrection. Each footstep, each cheer allowed the finish line in Copley Square to be reclaimed as a place not of tragedy but of triumph.

And as Christians will tell you, we know something about transformation and new life. On Easter, the cross is transformed from an implement of torture and death into an instrument of resurrection glory. Hope and meaning emerge out of chaos and we are transported into a new, life-giving relationship with God.

But we also know something about death -- faith doesn't make us immune to the painful realities of life. We lose someone close to us and the pain can be searing; a relationship fractures and it leaves us reeling; we lose a job and we’re left seeking an identity; an institution we’ve always loved closes and it leaves a void; we feel betrayed by a friend and it stings.

When we talk about resurrection, we first must confront death since you can't share in resurrection joy without first experiencing grief. Indeed, the road to Easter goes straight through Good Friday. And yet Easter reminds us that despite the tragedies and trials we all face in this life, death doesn't get the last word. We don’t remain on Heartbreak Hill; death doesn’t win.

Life does. Because when Jesus emerges from that tomb life wins out over death and that false boundary between life and death is breached once and for all. That’s what the celebration is all about.

As people who have come through a dark period in our collective civic lives, we have earned the right to extend the celebration. So grab a handful of jelly beans. If you're like me you'll want to avoid that horrid buttered popcorn-flavored Jelly Belly. But enjoy the rest of them. It’s okay to let the joy sink in for awhile.

Ancient Text Discovered!

BREAKING NEWS -- An ancient Biblical text was recently discovered in the Egyptian desert that debunks a controversial piece of Christian Scripture. Scholars have been left scrambling how best to interpret a papyrus fragment containing a single verse -- John 20:19.

This verse has long been a sticking point in Christian-Jewish relations. It reads as follows:

Then the same day at evening, being the first day of the week, when the doors were shut where the disciples were assembled for fear of the Jews, came Jesus and stood in the midst, and saith unto them, Peace be unto you. (John 20:19 -- King James Version)

Liturgical Christians traditionally read this passage on the Sunday after Easter at the start of the story of "Doubting Thomas" (John 20:19-31).

The line "for fear of the Jews" has led to instances of anti-Semitic behavior perpetrated by Christians at various points in history. This, coupled with the Passion Narrative from John's gospel, has led some Christians to the conclusion that it was "the Jews" who crucified Jesus. Indeed it wasn't until the 1960's that the Roman Catholic Church officially repudiated this assertion.

This newly discovered fragment appears to further dispel the notion of Christians being afraid of "the Jews" following the resurrection. Translated into English from the original Greek it reads:

Then the same day at evening, being the first day of the week, when the doors were shut where the disciples were assembled for fear of the juice...(italics added for emphasis).

In other words, the early church was not afraid of "the Jews" at all but of "the juice."

Scholars are currently holed up at the Vatican attempting to determine whether the offending juice was orange, apple, or pineapple. One viewpoint has emerged arguing that it was not fear of juice per se but rather of co-mingling combinations such as cranberry-grape or mango-guava. We also understand, from an anonymous source, that one prominent scholar is pushing a theory that the early Christians were not afraid of "the juice" at all but lived in dread of "the Juice" aka O.J. Simpson.

Attempts to contact Jose Canseco for his opinion on whether this may involve Performance-Enhancing Drugs (aka "juice") have been unsuccessful.

While we all await the final verdict, network television executives in America have, in an attempt to distance themselves from juice, banned advertising from Capri Sun, Tropicana, and Welch's. Complicating matters for liturgical leaders of denominations such as the Methodist Church is their use of grape juice at communion. When asked about their serving of juice during services, Methodist headquarters issued a blanket "no comment" statement.

Stay tuned as this controversy continues to unfold.

***********

This is, of course, no laughing matter and as Christians we cannot simply ignore these inferences when they arise in our Scriptures. My assistant, the Rev. Anne Emry, has written a brief blurb we like to run in our bulletins on this Second Sunday of Easter (see below). Feel free to use or adapt it in your own congregation or if you use something similar, consider sharing it. Thanks and continued Easter blessings to all.

“The doors were locked for fear of the Jews.”
Christianity has a difficult history which includes terrible persecution of Jewish people. It is important to clearly address how wrong it is, and how far from the teachings of Jesus. Know this: Jesus was a Jew and his followers were mostly Jews. The people he preached to, taught, and healed, were mostly Jews. He taught from the Jewish Scriptures and was executed by the Romans. Later historic struggles between Christian and Jewish communities, reflected in the Gospels, allowed anachronistic transfer of blame from the Romans to the Jews. Anti-Jewish violence and prejudice is intolerable. We must not force the Jews to lock their doors for fear of the Christians.

Hunting Season

In my monthly "In Good Faith" column I talk about the theological implications of Easter egg hunts (sort of) and why Holy Week is so awesome. Blessings to you all during these next Three Great Days.

Hunting Season

I like Easter egg hunts and I play to win. Actually, I haven’t been allowed to participate in one for quite a number of years, which is clearly a form of age discrimination. Just imagine the number of plastic eggs I could amass competing against a bunch of four and five-year-olds. I would dominate like LeBron James playing hoops against the local High School Junior Varsity team.

Most kids can’t imagine Easter Day without an Easter egg hunt. I used to love the adrenaline-pumping thrill of the hunt -- and that was just last year. Actually we do hold an annual Easter egg hunt at St. John’s following our 9:00 am Family Service on Easter Day. A few parents organize it with help from some eager teens – which means I occasionally stumble on unfound eggs in mid-August. There’s no better reminder of the resurrection than encountering a gooey four-month old melted mixture of chocolate bunny and purple jelly beans inside a plastic egg.

I know that in some religious circles Easter egg hunts are anathema – something about being pagan in origin. And, yes, the egg as a symbol of rebirth and new life pre-dates Christianity. But I like Easter egg hunts and not just because free jelly beans are the best kind. I love watching a young child’s face light up with the thrill of discovery. Nothing beats it.

And that thrill of discovery was precisely what took place on that first Easter morning. No, I’m not comparing Christ’s resurrection to an Easter egg hunt but there is something wonderfully exhilarating about the moment of discovery. The disciples experienced it when they came upon the empty tomb and children experience it when they find an egg. The hope is that kids will find that same feeling of discovery as they mature and move ever deeper into relationship with God.

This week Christians throughout the world will be marking the events surrounding the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. The liturgies of Holy Week allow us to fully participate in this, not as passive observers but as active participants. For the stories of this week are our stories; the drama is our drama; the victory is our victory. But we must be fully engaged in order to be fully transformed. You can't experience the breadth of Easter joy without first experiencing the agony of the cross, or at least reflecting upon it. Otherwise you end up crashing from the sugar high – as if Easter morning was spent downing Peep after Peep with no genuine sustenance in sight. Which sounds dandy until the inevitable crash.

Wherever you worship this year, I encourage you to embrace the Christian “High Holy Days:” Maundy (Holy) Thursday, Good Friday, and the Easter Vigil as we move from the Upper Room for the Last Supper to the Crucifixion to Resurrection. At St. John’s we offer evening services at 7:30 pm on all those days as well as liturgies specifically geared toward children (in particular our 4:00 pm Children’s Good Friday service). Of course we also have services on Easter Sunday at St. John’s -- three of them to be precise.

So consider this an invitation -- to my own church or any church this week. You won’t be disappointed and your faith will surely be deepened along the way. I know how difficult it can be to enter the doors of a church for the first time. “Will they be annoyingly hard sell? Will I be smothered with pleasantries? Will I know what to do? Will they make me stand up and introduce myself?” But I bid you to overcome the feelings of vulnerability and uncertainty. You'll be glad you did and there is no better time of year to “try out” a new church. Know that you'll be warmly welcomed and never judged for kneeling at the wrong time. Wherever or however you worship this year, I wish you a very blessed Easter.

The Thrill of the Hunt

In my latest "In Good Faith" column I talk about why I love Easter Egg hunts and lament that I'm no longer allowed to "compete" against four and five-year-olds.

A blessed Easter to everyone!

The Thrill of the Hunt

I like Easter egg hunts and I play to win. Actually, I haven’t been allowed to participate in one for quite a number of years, which is clearly a form of age discrimination. Just imagine the number of plastic eggs I could amass competing against a bunch of four and five-year-olds. I would dominate like LeBron James playing hoops against the local High School Junior Varsity team.

Most kids can’t imagine Easter Day without an Easter egg hunt. Whether it’s in the backyard organized by the older cousins or in a neighborhood park set up by parents, the reward is sweet. I used to love the adrenaline-pumping thrill of the hunt. And that was just last year. Actually we do hold an annual Easter egg hunt at my church following Easter services and while I’ve always thought its start resembled the Running of the Bulls at Pamplona, to my knowledge there have never been any egg-related injuries.

A few parents organize the hunt on the front lawn of the church with help from some eager teens – which means I occasionally stumble upon unfound eggs in mid-August. There’s no better reminder of the resurrection than encountering a gooey four-month old melted mixture of chocolate bunny and purple jelly beans inside a plastic egg.

I know that in some religious circles Easter egg hunts are anathema – something about being pagan in origin. And, yes, the egg as a symbol of rebirth and new life pre-dates Christianity. But I like Easter egg hunts and not just because free jelly beans are the best kind. I love watching a young child’s face light up with the thrill of discovery – nothing beats it.

And that thrill of discovery was precisely what took place on that first Easter morning. No, I’m not comparing Jesus’ resurrection to an Easter egg hunt but there is something wonderfully exhilarating about the moment of discovery. The disciples experienced it when they came upon the empty tomb and children experience it when they find an egg. The hope is that kids will find that same feeling of faithful discovery as they mature and move ever deeper into relationship with God.

The original “Aha moment” that took place over 2,000 years ago forever changed the world by proving that hope and faith and life conquer sin and death and the grave. We discover that out of darkness is light, out of pain is joy, out of death is life. This is the miracle of Easter; the reason we even bother with egg hunts and fancy hats and celebratory feasts and Peeps.

You could say that the disciples’ discovery of the empty tomb is inversely proportional to the disappointment of biting into an empty chocolate egg. Okay, that’s a dreadful analogy as one leads to new life while the other simply brings a return trip to the Easter basket. But this year I encourage you to think about the thrill of discovery on that first Easter morning. I guarantee that placing your celebration into a more spiritual context will make that Cadbury egg taste even sweeter.