Some thoughts on an early Christian witness

During The Great Fifty Days of Easter, it has been the custom of the church to repolace the Old Testament Reading in its various lectionaries with a reading from The Acts of the Apostles.  The Revised Common Lectionary's reading for the Second Sunday of Easter comes from chapter 5, verses 27-32.  That passage reads:

When they had brought them, they had them stand before the council. The high priest questioned them, saying, ‘We gave you strict orders not to teach in this name, yet here you have filled Jerusalem with your teaching and you are determined to bring this man’s blood on us.’ But Peter and the apostles answered, ‘We must obey God rather than any human authority. The God of our ancestors raised up Jesus, whom you had killed by hanging him on a tree. God exalted him at his right hand as Leader and Saviour, so that he might give repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins. And we are witnesses to these things, and so is the Holy Spirit whom God has given to those who obey him.’  (NRSV)

This is a rich mine from which we can extract a multitude of truths and lessons.  But one thing that caught my attention for the living of these days is Peter’s response to the high priest.  He (and “the apostles”) replies, “We must obey God rather than any human authority.”  That is easy to latch upon.  People can (and have) used this quote from Peter to justify just about any behavior or idea.  It is the perfect all-purpose rejoinder to religious authority.

On the other hand, sometimes religious authority becomes so restricting (or constricting) that a person of faith has no choice but to reject that authority.  One can argue that Jesus spent much of his teaching in trying to sort out authority for authority’s sake from genuine godliness.

We also remember that Peter himself would later on take the role of authority in the church, and I suspect that there were occasions when Peter said something like, “Look, Jesus Himself gave me the keys to the Kingdom of God.  He told me that whatever I bound on earth would be bound in heaven, and that whatever I loosed on earth would be loosed in heaven.  I think I have a right to some say-so in this matter!”

It is easy to challenge authority when we don’t have any.  It is difficult to let go of authority when we have achieved or grabbed a little.

The Book of Acts is making a specific point, and I understand that.  But such things are to be handled delicately.  Or we end up on a slippery slope awfully quickly.

An Unofficial Feast Day

I wrote a little bit yesterday about “The Second Sunday of Easter.”  I remarked that it is statistically the lowest-attended worship service day in the entire year.  This holds true across regional, denominational and size-of-church lines.  There are numerous studies performed by both religious and secular institutions that bear this out.

On a much less-studied note I offer a comment based on personal experience and observation.  That reflection is that many of us refer to the Sunday after Easter as one of three guaranteed “Associate Ministers’ Preaching Days.”   In congregations that have multiple staff (and especially multiple pastoral staff members) the preaching load of the Associate or Assistant or Co-pastor (the position goes by a lot of different names) varies widely.  Some preach regularly and do so every three or four weeks.  In other situations, the “second” pastor may preach irregularly if at all.  But, take it to the bank, the alternate preacher will take the pulpit the Sunday after Easter, the Sunday after Christmas and (in my United Methodist tradition) the Sunday of the convening of Annual Conference (when the Senior Pastor often wants to make a quick getaway, perhaps even leaving for the conference site the day before).

In my own experience, I was in one situation where I preached every Sunday.  I preached one Sunday morning and three/four Sunday evenings each month.  Our evening service had attendance in the high eighties (which was more than I would usually have in attendance in any one of the circuit churches I had pastored previously).  In another Associate Minister’s appointment, I did not have a regular schedule, but was assigned a preaching date about every five weeks.  Later in that same church I again did not have a regularly-scheduled preaching date, but my rather arbitrary time came around on the average of every eight to nine weeks.

But, no matter what the arrangement, one of those magical days when I took the pulpit was the Sunday after Easter.  So, that point on the calendar has a bit of sentimental significance for me.  It was one of those – sometimes few – times in the year when I could act out my “call to preach” in its fullness.  As an Associate Pastor, I was not alone.

Thanks be to God for the Sunday after Easter!

The Second Sunday of Easter

Today is The Second Sunday of Easter.  That is its liturgical designation.  A lot of people look at it as “the Sunday after Easter.”  Statistically, it is the lowest-attended Sunday for worship services and other church gatherings of the entire year.  That has always messed with my mind.  I mean, EASTER -- The Feast of the Resurrection of the Lord, the defining moment in our Christian faith -- was one week ago.  Now, everybody’s gone.  Even those marginal, usually-there to frequently-there church attenders take the day off.  It is the day for the hard-core church participant.

People believe that it’s over.  They have found the eggs.  They have eaten the candy.  They no longer view their Easter outfits as “new.”  It is back to business as usual.  That has always messed with my mind.

Liturgically of course we are barely underway.  The church recognizes the “Season of Easter” as working itself out over the course of about seven weeks.  Indeed, “Easter Season” or “Eastertide” are terms that non-liturgical communions tend to employ.  It is not unheard-of for more formal denominations to use these terms, but that is usually to avoid repetition.  Liturgical churches will usually choose the title “The Great Fifty Days.”  The celebration itself runs from the Easter Vigil on the night of Holy Saturday/Easter Sunday and runs through Evening Prayer on the Day of Pentecost.  It is a good, long draught out of the year that the church dedicates to the celebration of the Resurrection. 

As for today itself, it is the end of the Octave of Easter and much of the church observes these eight days as a solemnity (feast of the highest rank).  That in itself would cause some folks to embrace the day and not abandon it.  In the history of the church – especially in the English-speaking world – there was a time when the church called today “Low Sunday,” I can only imagine that it was because of some of the thoughts I mentioned above.  Mercifully, the church has all but abandoned such a label.

So, go to church.  Enjoy the elbow room.  Pray that folks don’t forget worship until next Easter.

Subsequent readings for Easter

The Revised Common Lectionary (RCL) has suggestions for Easter Evening, after having provided readings for Easter Vigil and the Main Service of Easter.  It contains this note regarding these lessons:

The following readings are for occasions when the main (eucharistic) Easter service must be late in the day. They are not intended for Vespers (Evening Prayer) on Easter Evening.

It is an interesting note.  I assume that the lectionary compilers believe that a congregation has already conducted some earlier service – either a vigil or sunrise service – before a worship time containing these readings come around.

The Gospel Reading for this grouping is Luke 24:13-49, which is the somewhat lengthy account of the walk to Emmaus.   That event takes place over in the day on the first day of the week, but it is certainly not at daybreak.  The empty tomb scenario is narratively in the past.  This is not to quibble, but I merely observe that this is a story that the contemporary reader has trouble assigning to Easter Day.  The storytelling is there, and there is no doubt.  But I think that we are so accustomed to hearing this on the week after Easter, or the week after that, that we double-take at the thought of rehearsing these events Easter Day.  I don’t know that I have ever been a part of “occasions when the main (eucharistic) Easter service must be late in the day.”  Even in churches that usually conducted evening worship, we always took Easter night off.

In considering this, I think that it is too bad that I have never been in a situation that allowed for this time-line.  It is a powerful story, but when I consider the possibilities of concluding the Feast of the Resurrection of the Lord with this tale I boggle at the possibilities.

So, I am a day (three, actually) late and a dollar short.  But, I intend to live with the Emmaus passage a while before too much time passes.

The Feast of St. Mark the Evangelist

The Badge of St. Mark the Evangelist

Today is the feast day of St. Mark the Evangelist.  Although the Second Gospel is anonymous, the church has associated Mark’s name with that work since the early days of Christianity.  Scholars recognize his account as the earliest of the four canonical gospels.  Indeed, history credits Mark with the invention of the gospel genre of literature.  While other biographies had existed since the development of writing, those works were in single-strand narrative form.  Mark takes small vignettes and sayings and weaves them together not so much for historical continuity, but to serve his theological purposes.

Mark’s gospel is the shortest of the four biblical gospels.  It includes no Infancy Narrative.  His work moves at an almost breathless pace, as he introduces individual accounts with the phrase “and immediately” over fifty times.  His Resurrection account (excluding the “longer endings” that were almost assuredly later additions) is inconclusive.

Yet, this work is a foundational source for the other Synoptic Gospels (Matthew and Luke).  There are only a handful of verses in Mark that one or the other (or both) of the Synoptists does not employ.  Some scholars support the tradition that Mark bases his writing on the preaching of Peter.  That view, however, does not meet with universal acceptance.

Be that as it may, the church’s debt to St. Mark is incalculable.  We particularly give thanks for his witness today.

Samuel Wesley

Samuel Wesley

It was on April 25 in 1735 that Samuel Wesley, father of John, Charles and other siblings, died.  He was rector of Epworth Parish in Britain.  His father was a nonconformist minister, but Samuel came into the Church of England after he graduated from Exeter College, Oxford.  The church ordained him priest in 1689.  He married Susannah Annesley during his time as a London parish curate.  The couple had 19 children, ten of whom survived their infancy.  He was a High Churchman who recommended the monthly celebration of the Eucharist rather than quarterly.  He urged that parishioners offer their children for baptism publicly rather than privately.  He supported the use of contemporary hymns rather than the “Old Version” Psalter that congregations commonly used in those days.

He was a poet of some note in his day, and he wrote a widely-acclaimed scholarly work on the Book of Job.

While rector of Epworth he ran into continual frustrations.   Parishioners were suspects in the starting of a rectory fire in 1709.  Onlookers spotted John in an upstairs window after everyone else had evacuated the house.  There was no point of entry, and so people formed a human pyramid in order to rescue the child.

Samuel’s response after the delivering of the child, “Let us give thanks to God!  He has given me all my eight children; Let the house go, I am rich enough.” 

Captain Marvel

I saw the movie Captain Marvel a couple of days ago.  My main interest was to try to stay current because I am led to believe that the character plays a major part in the upcoming Avengers: Endgame, and I am very interested in that.  More in a moment.

Captain Marvel -- c. 1939

The Captain Marvel franchise has a bit of a checkered history.  The “original” appeared in 1939 in Whiz Comics, published by Fawcett.  Almost from the get-go there was tension between Fawcett and DC, which claimed that Captain Marvel was a rip-off of Superman (a charge not easily disputed).  The lawsuits and countersuits continued until Fawcett ceased publishing its character in 1959.  In 1972 Fawcett sold the rights to Captain Marvel to DC, and by 1992 Fawcett had sold rights to the entire Marvel family, which was quite large.  DC began publishing its own blander version of Captain Marvel in ‘72, but it was never a high-profile title.  There was a kid’s TV show (Shazam) that lasted a couple of years (There had been a Captain Marvel serial in 1941). and had multiple actors who portrayed the lead character.  I have read that the character in the series always went by “Shazam,” and never by “Captain Marvel,” but I can’t document that. (Shazam was the name of the character who endowed young Billy Batson with the Captain Marvel powers and persona.  Shazam is an acrostic for Solomon, Hercules, Atlas, Zeus, Achilles, and Mercury, all of whose powers the newly-christened Marvel received.)

Captain Marvel -- c. 1071

While the DC character was in a kind of limbo, Marvel introduced its Captain Marvel in 1971.  The character never caught on in a big way, but Marvel continued to publish the character intermittently in order to maintain its copyright and force DC to publish its hero under the Shazam title.

A new Captain Marvel debuted in 1977, originally as Ms. Marvel.  Her story intertwined with the Captain Marvel character in the Marvel stable until that hero died.  Ms. Marvel inherited the Captain Marvel mantle at that time.  Her titles too have a sporadic publication history.  And, sadly, many of her stories, and the covers of her magazines in particular, have a pin-up quality that emphasizes her appearance rather than her power.

Captain Marvel -- 2019 film

That brings us to the recent film.  I want to say on the outset that I know little about the various incarnations of the Captain Marvel figures and virtually nothing about their story arcs.  But, having a nearly clean slate means that I went into the viewing with few expectations.  The movie is a lot of fun, moving well and only being a tad too long.

I want to commend it for two things in particular.  First, I applaud a strong female character, particularly in a lead or title role.  In this piece, she takes a back seat to no one.  Secondly – and this is a real biggie for me – there is no part of the story line that distracts Captain Marvel with a love interest, or in the mourning or regret of a love lost.  We get backstory, and it is interesting.  She is a very human character as she moves through this narrative.  But the obligatory guy with the chiseled chin is completely absent.  That puts this at such a step above other efforts that it is not even funny.

There are flaws, both in the character and in the plot.  But they are not major, and I can overlook them easily in light of the film’s strength.

I’m ready for Avengers: Endgame.

Easter Monday

The question came to me: “Is Easter Monday a thing?”  The answer is, “Well, yes and no.”  In the U.S., the answer is essentially in the negative.  There are a few U. S. locations that take today as a holiday or have taken the day in the past.  But these are isolated instances.

On the other hand, there are at least 119 individual countries that observe this day as a holiday in one form or another.  These tend to be nations or regions where Eastern Christianity dominates.  In some areas, if a saint’s day falls on Easter, the church commemorates the saint on the following day – Easter Monday.

Easter Monday shows up in a lot of calendars, both printed and on-line.  Some versions of Outlook and Google calendars show this date as some sort of observance, for instance.  Filofax has some versions of its calendar refills that refer to the day.

I think that there can be a tremendous letdown immediately after The Feast of the Resurrection of the Lord.  An extended observance is not a bad idea.

The Feast of the Resurrection of the Lord

Today is The Feast of the Resurrection of the Lord.  “Easter” is a word that means “spring.”  It is not a church word.  It is not a faith word.  And it is absolutely not a biblical word.  Oh, I know that the church has appropriated all sorts of words and customs and calendar dates through the years.  And this is not the beginning of a futile campaign to ban “Easter” from the language.  What I do want to do is to highlight the true, festive nature of our celebration.  It is not a day for abbreviations or shorthand. It is a day for new Easter outfits.  The men should wear suits and ties.  The women should wear hats, maybe even gloves.  This is a season when high school girls are wearing $1000 dresses for a one-time trip to the prom.  How is it that they then wear jeans with holes in the knees to church today?  The fellows look like they’re headed for the golf course.  What in the name of the Easter Bunny happened to “Sunday best?”

I understand that it is not important (in the great scheme of things) what we wear, but the vital thing is where we are.  I also recognize that “informal” and even “casual” are important concepts for some congregations.  People give the excuse for their lack of participation in church activities as, “The people there are too stuffy.  They wear starched collars and high heels, and that is just not my thing.”  That’s a great excuse, isn’t it?  Question: if God phoned for an appointment; told you to be at the Pearly Gates at 2 o’clock a week from Thursday, and that St. Peter would escort you to the throne of Grace from there, what would you wear?

I know that the day is about the Empty Tomb and not about clothing.  But what we wear is a sign of the importance we attach to a given event.  I don’t know of anyone who has seriously sought a new job that didn’t check the mirror before they went through the door for the interview.  The Old Testament has scores of accounts of the apparel that people are to wear in certain religious circumstances.  Matthew 22 has a grace-filled story about folks gathered from the highways and byways to attend the wedding banquet of the son of the king.  But there was one guest who did not wear the appropriate wedding garment, and the king commanded that this offender be ejected from the proceedings.

I understand priorities.  And I don’t want to be a wet blanket.   But it is The Feast of the Resurrection of the Lord.  What is truly appropriate?

Holy Saturday

It is Saturday of Holy Week.  Holy Saturday.  It marks the full day in which the body of Jesus inhabited a borrowed tomb.  It is quiet.  In the course of the biblical narrative it is a time of resignation, grief and sorrow.  Some of those who followed Jesus spent this Sabbath day at rest, but also making plans to return to the tomb as soon as the Law would permit, so that they could properly tend to the corpse of Jesus.  It is not yet the first day of the week.  It is not Sunday yet.  Easter will come, as we know.  But living in the continuity of the description, this is not a day of rejoicing.

The Revised Common Lectionary reflects this in its suggested readings for the day.  The First Lesson is from Job 14 

‘A mortal, born of woman, few of days and full of trouble,

   comes up like a flower and withers,

   flees like a shadow and does not last.

The alternate reading is from Lamentations 3.  It includes:

 I am one who has seen affliction

   under the rod of God’s wrath;

he has driven and brought me

   into darkness without any light;

against me alone he turns his hand,

   again and again, all day long.

The reading from the Psalter is Psalm 31.  It reads in part,

You are indeed my rock and my fortress;

   for your name’s sake lead me and guide me,

take me out of the net that is hidden for me,

   for you are my refuge.

My times are in your hand;

   deliver me from the hand of my enemies and persecutors.

Let your face shine upon your servant;

   save me in your steadfast love.

The gospel lessons are Matthew 27 & John 19.  They recount the claiming of Jesus’ body from Pontius Pilate and the entombment of Jesus.

The readings, each in its own way, reflects the solemnity of the day.  There is resignation, hopelessness and despair.  Even the claim of hope in spots sounds like whistling in the dark in the face of these hours.

There is hope to come.  There is joy in the morning.

But not yet.

The Friday called "good"

It is Good Friday.  I always had trouble with that designation when I was young.  Even a degree of theological sophistication leaves one with mixed emotions when meditating on that title.  It is the day Christ died.  It sounds like a plug for a Jim Bishop book.

But we carry over some sense of the gravity of this day year-round.  Fridays are fast days in many denominations.  Or, people will refrain from meat or certain other foods on Friday.  It is a regular spiritual discipline, to be sure.  But it is also a commemoration that it was on Friday that Jesus was on his cross.  It is in some ways as if the day has a black mark on it altogether.

That may be a bit harsh, but it is not altogether unfitting.  If the church considers each Sunday a “little Easter” it may be appropriate to regard every Friday as a “little Good Friday,” a remembrance of the extraordinary event that occurred on this day.

After all, according to the scriptural accounts, the skies darkened, the earth quaked and even tombs opened up and the dead walked the earth.  It is not a day to take lightly.

Maundy Thursday

The phrase is novum mandatum – a “new commandment” that Jesus gives his disciples on the night Judas betrayed him.  This phrase lends its name to the title we give this day: Maundy Thursday (the day of the commandment).

It is a day that is chock-full of significant activity.  Jesus instituted The Eucharist on this night.  He washed the feet of the disciples while in the Upper Room.  He identified Judas as a betrayer, if only to “the disciple whom he loved.”  Jesus undergoes The Agony in Gethsemane this night.  The Sanhedrin guards arrest Jesus after Judas Iscariot betrays him.  The apostles abandon him.  The guards bring him before the Sanhedrin.  Peter thrice denies him.  He may even make the initial appearance in the presence of Pontius Pilate before Thursday is over.

The church will rehearse many of these things in Maundy Thursday worship services.  Each recollection reveals some aspect of the work of Jesus or of the Divine Plan.

It is worth noting that the church remembers this night every time it gathers at the Communion Table.  Outside of the acts that surround the institution of the Sacrament, the church doesn’t say much about the plenteous events of the night.  In fact, of all the other activities that took place in that evening, the church only references one.  Our Communion liturgy says, “On the night in which he was betrayed he took bread…”

I think that is striking.  Out of all that occurred that night, the church highlights the betrayal.  Judas’ identifying Jesus to the officials isn’t related to the activity surrounding the table at all, except that they both took place on the same evening.

Maybe – maybe –the church does this because Jesus is rehearsing his death prior to its imminent occurring.  At table he says, “I will not drink again of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new with you in my Father’s kingdom.” Later that evening, the events will set in motion that process by which Christ establishes the Kingdom in its fullness.  Maybe – maybe – it is of extreme necessity that the church links the two acts, Eucharist and betrayal, in its liturgy.   They may be two sides of the same coin.  Maybe -- maybe -- it is necessary to remember about that night that there were things Jesus did (like institute the Eucharist) and there were things humans did (wrapped up in the single act of betrayal; after all, of the things human beings did in the stories of that evening, none of them are very admirable).  

 "On the night in which Jesus agonized?"  No.  "On the night when all whom he held dear abandoned him?"  Uh-uh.  "On the night they arrested him?"  No pizzazz.

"On the night in which he was betrayed?"  I think I got it.

Wednesday in Holy Week

The Revised Common Lectionary gospel suggestion for Wednesday in Holy Week is John 13:21-32.  Jesus is at table with his disciples in the upper room and he predicts his betrayal.  The disciple whom Jesus loved asks the identity of the scoundrel.  Jesus tells him that he will give a piece of bread to the culprit.  By this act Jesus marks Judas Iscariot as the one who will enable the Sanhedrin guards to arrest him.

As a literary figure Judas is well-known (indeed, his name is synonymous with “traitor” or “betrayer;” no one names their child “Judas).  At the same time the scriptures are a bit ambiguous about him.  Many interpret his epithet “Iscariot” to mean that he is a native of Kerioth, a town in the south of Judea.  This would make him the only non-Galilean in the band of Jesus’ twelve apostles.  There are many other understandings of the significance of this name, though, and they range from the plausible to the ridiculous.  Many refer to Judas’ character after the fact in a kind of over-the-shoulder reporting of history.  These references tend to interpret “Iscariot” as a negative character trait.

The gospels vary in describing Judas’ motive.  Mark makes no comment.  Matthew says Judas’ motivation was pure greed, as he desired the thirty pieces of silver.  Luke and John indicate that Satan possessed Judas and that was why he committed his betrayal. 

There are some other strains of tradition – many of them modern – that are more sympathetic to Judas.  They portray him as being an implement that God or the political machine employs, and that he was a victim.  Still others see him as selflessly carrying out a noble plan without regard to his reputation or legacy.  Nikos Kazantzakis’ The Last Temptation of Christ and Andrew Lloyd Weber & Tim Rice’s Jesus Christ Superstar are prominent examples.  A caution: all of these interpretations are obviously extra-biblical.  They are interesting speculations but have no basis in scripture.

The Bible also contains two accounts of the death of Judas.  Matthew says that he felt remorse and attempted to return the money.  He then hanged himself.  The Jewish officials considered the money tainted, and so used it to buy “The Potter’s Field” as a burial place for strangers and paupers.  The plot acquired the title “Field of Blood,” because the Sanhedrin considered the money given to Judas blood money.  In Acts, Judas himself buys the field, falls headlong and dies there.

I have no need to defend Judas Iscariot.  Our approach to him and to his character is fascinating, though.  As Holy Week progresses, perhaps we would do well to recollect that the circumstances in which we try to exercise our faith are frequently more complicated than they first appear.

Tuesday in Holy Week

The Revised Common Lectionary (RCL) obviously has readings for each Sunday of the year.  A little more obscure is the Lectionary’s readings for all the days in Holy Week.  The gospel suggestion for today is John 12:20-36.  It includes an interesting little fragment.  Verses 27-28 read, ‘Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say —“Father, save me from this hour”? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.’ Then a voice came from heaven, ‘I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.’

It is interesting in that it takes the form of Jesus praying, but it is in fact a speech.  It is one of several instances in which the Fourth Evangelist employs this literary device.  Even with there being a “voice from heaven” in response to Jesus’ words, the initial words are addressed to the bystanders, not to God.

In point of fact John’s gospel does not report the content of any of Jesus’ prayers.  It sounds a little peculiar, but every time the narrative places Jesus in a prayer context, what follows is a speech or teaching discourse.  Even Jesus’ High Priestly Prayer in chapter 17 is really an address that encourages Jesus’ disciples (both in his context and those future disciples who read the text) to maintain their faith.

The takeaway?  I guess it is, “things are not always what they seem.”  Even in scripture.

An important question

It was my privilege to receive a confirmation class into full membership in worship yesterday.  The ritual for that service is a beautiful thing.  It is not as familiar as some other liturgical materials because many of our congregations do not receive professions of faith as often as we would like.  As part of that order, the candidates join in the “Renunciation of Sin and Profession of Faith.”  That act includes the question:

On behalf of the whole Church, I ask you:

Do you renounce the spiritual forces of wickedness,

   reject the evil powers of this world,

   and repent of your sin?

I know of people who roll their eyes at this question.  “Spiritual forces of wickedness” and “evil powers of this world” strike them as being medieval.  The only vision they have of these forces and powers is of a red-suited, horn-headed, pitchfork-carrying caricature.  It is the cartoon character who, when faced with an ethical dilemma, finds a little angel on the shoulder whispering in one ear and a miniature devil perched on the other and offering contrary advice. 

I fall into the camp of, “If The United Methodist Church includes the terminology in its ritual, there must be something to it.”  This is not blind allegiance. Rather, it labels something that I cannot quite otherwise describe.  It is kind of like the wind.  I don’t so much see the spiritual forces of wickedness or the evil powers of this world as I see their result.  I see the misery that these influences bring into lives.  I see the chaos in the political and economic world.  I know what they can do.

So, it is important for the community of faith to “renounce” and “reject.”  In order to do that we must acknowledge.  So, to my skeptical friends I would say that the forces and powers want you to disbelieve.  They deeply desire that you see their presence as something that children and the simple accept.  That is how they get their toeholds. 

For myself, I renounce them and reject them.

Palm/Passion Sunday

Palm/Passion Sunday: I remember the first couple of times I heard that term.  It refers, of course, to this day, the Sunday prior to Easter Day. It is a kind of expedient.  It recognizes that there are a lot of people who will attend church today and observe The Triumphal Entry.  Then they will stay at home and not come to church again until next Sunday, when they will join in the proclamation of Easter.  They will skip Holy Week, and Good Friday in particular, and therefore move from celebration to celebration, from joy to joy, without experiencing any of the anguish of the Upper room; Gethsemane; The Betrayal; The Arrest; the various trials before the Sanhedrin, before Herod, or before Pilate; The Flogging; the Via Dolorosa; The Crucifixion; or The Entombment.  So many people will refuse to recognize these terrible moments.  They move from Palms to Lilies.  They ease from Sunday to Sunday without a lot of discomfort at all.  I had a dear friend and active church member who said of Holy Week, “I just can’t stand to think of Jesus in a situation like that.”

As I said, I remember the first couple of times I heard of “Palm/Passion Sunday.”  I was horrified.  Now you must realize that this was early in my ministry.  My idealism was still running at a fairly high level.  I have come to understand that there are reasons beyond spiritual laziness why folks might not be in church on Maundy Thursday or Good Friday or for other Holy Week observances.  So, while I don’t see it as the best of all possible worlds, I have made my peace with Palm/Passion Sunday. 

It starts off with The Liturgy of the Palms in all three years of the Revised Common Lectionary Cycles.  It then moves to the Liturgy of The Passion, where in one form or another it rehearses the death of Jesus.  Folks use these two elements in varying ways, but at the core is a lifting up of both Triumphal Entry and the Death of Jesus.  And, it may be that such a day encompasses the gospel in a way that we don’t see on a garden-variety Sunday.  So, ambivalence and all, Happy Palm/Passion Sunday.

The President's plane

I don’t usually do book reviews.  I might even say that this is not a review.  But, I have re-read Kenneth T. Walsh’s Air force One: A History of the Presidents and Their Planes.   I had forgotten how much I enjoyed it the first time through.  It begins with Franklin Roosevelt’s securing of a Douglas Dolphin Amphibian specifically for presidential travel.  However, there are no records showing that FDR actually flew in this craft.  During World War II, Roosevelt traveled on the Dixie Clipper, a Pan Am-crewed Boeing 314 flying boat to the 1943 Casablanca Conference in Morocco (FDR was the first president to fly while in office.  Theodore Roosevelt flew in a Wright Flyer in 1911, but he was no longer President by then.)

Air Force One is the FAA designation for the aircraft bearing the President of the United States.  While most people identify that name with the big blue jet in which modern-day presidents travel, the FAA applies the identifier to any plane where POTUS is a passenger.

The book is full of little-known facts concerning the configuration of the planes, their frequency (or lack of same) of use by various presidents, the individual modifications that each president has made, and so on.  It also chronicles in brief some of the significant journeys the plane has made.

This book plays wonderfully into my dual interests in U. S. history and presidential biography.  Good read.

Sloth

Sloth

I have been cogitating lately on one of the Seven Deadly Sins.  We know these sins to be pride, greed, lust, envy, gluttony and wrath.  None of these traits has a lot to recommend them.  But I have been spending recent times of inquiry directing my thought toward the remaining sin: sloth.

Fred Craddock, in observing on this concept, said:

Sloth.  What _is_ that?  Is it a three-toed animal that hangs upside-down from trees?  What is sloth.  Is it laying about too long in the bath water?  It comes from the Latin “acedia.”  It means “I don’t care.”

I don’t have the moral authority to comment on the sinful nature of behavior that is apathetic.  But I do feel empowered to observe on the hurtful nature of such an attitude in the life of a local church.  Spiritually, “I don’t care” is deadly.  It robs a person of initiative, of drive.  It makes vital things appear trivial.  It comes to the point where the apathetic person doesn’t concern themselves with whether things – anything – gets done or not.’

Organizationally, apathy is paralyzing.  Within a local congregation, there are tasks that the church must accomplish.  There are financial, property and legal concerns that the church must address, and it relies on volunteers (for the most part) to get these things done.  Beyond that there are nurturing and programmatic activities that must go on if the church is to be faithful to its mission.

Enter the excuse brigade.  “I’m tired.”  “I have put in my time at that job.”  “I am not interested in that specific task.”  “I don’t know how.”  “I can’t.”  “I wouldn’t know where to start.”  Do you know what all of these respondents is saying?  It is all the same: “I don’t care!”

Apathy in the political arena means that voters stay home, and the worst possible candidates get elected.  Apathy in the workplace means that businesses don’t achieve their goals, and frequently that the most unqualified of people rise to the top of the organization.  Apathy in relationships means that families grow apart, friendships disintegrate and – all too often – marriages fail.  I begin to see what the sages of the Middle Ages meant when they saw sloth as a Deadly Sin.

Lord, have mercy.

Christ, have mercy.

Lord, have mercy.

The first photo of a Black Hole

The opening of the video says it all.  The narrative opens with several motion-picture and animation representations of black holes.  Then it says, “These are now science fiction.”  They have taken a picture of a black hole.

Wow!

I remember the first time I ever heard of the phenomenon.  When the description got to the part where it said, “a black hole is so dense, and its gravity is so strong not even light can escape it.”  I thought at the time, “Now, THAT’S science fiction.” 

I am not a physicist.  I am not an astronomer beyond what I occasionally see through a pair of field glasses.  But I have always had a casual interest in black holes.  What little more I would learn would only increase my fascination.  And now, they’ve snapped a picture.  I say “they.” It is an array of telescopes that spans the globe and that bears the collective name The Event Horizon Telescope that has done the heavy lifting here.

I’m looking forward to more info.

And more photos!

William Law, teacher

Although he died on April 9, 1761 the Anglican calendar celebrates the life and death of William Law on April 10.  Law was a priest in the Church of England.  When he would not pledge allegiance to King George I (the first English king from the House of Hanover), the government removed him from his position at Cambridge’s Emmanuel College.  Law had in the past given his pledge to the House of Stuart.  He was a non-juror (a participant in the split in the national churches of England, Scotland and Ireland following the deposition and exile of James II & VII).  Law went on serving as a curate, but the government eventually removed him from that office as well.  He became a tutor and began what turned out to be a prolific writing career.  He wrote about personal piety and mysticism.  Those who credit the influence of Law on their lives and work include Dr. Samuel Johnson, Edward Gibbon, William Wilberforce and John Wesley.  His best-known work is A Serious Call to a Devout and Holy Life.  He published it in 1729.  This and many other writings continue to be in print.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, martyr

Dietrich Bonhoeffer died on this date in 1945.  He was a member and pastor in the Confessing Church of Germany.  His father was a noted professor of psychiatry and his mother was a teacher.  Bonhoeffer had seven brothers and sisters, one of the sisters being his twin.  He studied theology at Berlin University under Adolf von Harnack.  While at the university he read the works of Karl Barth extensively.  He wrote dissertations that so impressed the faculty that he became a lecturer in theology at age 24.  He was visiting professor at New York’s Union Theological Seminary, where he came under the influence of proponents of the “social gospel.”    He returned to Germany and experienced what he termed a “great liberation.”  From that point prayer and Bible study, which had been academic pursuits, became a way of life for Bonhoeffer.  He wrote The Cost of Discipleship, arguably his most important straight theological work, during this period.

He helped organize Christian resistance to Nazism in the time leading up to the Second World War.  He returned to New York in 1938 but became convinced that he could not minister to the German people after the war if he withdrew from them while the fighting occurred.  Against the pleading of his American friends he returned to his own country. He founded The Confessing Church and an underground seminary in Finkenwalde when the German government was taking over churches.  He wrote Life Together for his seminary students.  He grappled deeply with his personal theology and conscience before joining in an attempt to assassinate Adolph Hitler.  When the attempt failed, he was imprisoned.  He spent time at Tegal, Buchenwald and Flossenburg.  He had become engaged to Maria von Wedemeyer, but the arrest took place before they married.

He composed what is perhaps his best-known work, Letters and Papers from Prison, while in the concentration camps. As pastor to all who wished it in the camps – the incarcerated and guards alike – friendly sentries often smuggled his papers out of the prisons.

Records show that "Bonhoeffer was condemned to death on 8 April 1945 by SS judge Otto Thorbeck at a drumhead court-martial without witnesses, records of proceedings or a defense in Flossenbürg concentration camp. He was executed there by hanging at dawn on 9 April 1945, just two weeks before soldiers from the United States 90th and 97th Infantry Divisions liberated the camp, three weeks before the Soviet capture of Berlin and a month before the surrender of Nazi Germany."

The anointing at...?

Yesterday I commented on the gospel lection from the Revised Common Lectionary for the fifth Sunday in Lent.  The lesson is John 12:1-8: the anointing at Bethany.  I observed, “When we read this account, the story sounds familiar, and yet some of the details seem – what else to call it – wrong.  That is due in part to the fact that all four gospels contain a similar story.”

The stories are at the same time remarkably familiar and significantly different.  I don’t say this as a mere intellectual exercise, or as someone caught up in minutiae.  The trappings of these accounts can make remarkable differences in the meaning of the tales.

Mark 14:3-9 and Matthew 26:6 tell the story in essentially the same words.  The event happens two days before the Passover in Bethany, in the home of Simon the Leper.  During the meal an unnamed woman opens an alabaster jar of “valuable perfume made with real nard” and pours the perfume on Jesus’ head.  An unnumbered group of unnamed disciples protest, saying the perfume could have been sold and the proceeds could have benefited the poor.  Jesus defends the woman.  Then he echoes Deuteronomy 15:11:  Since there will never cease to be some in need on the earth, I therefore command you, ‘Open your hand to the poor and needy neighbour in your land.’ (NRSV)  He interprets the act as an anointing for his burial, which unbeknown to his audience is in just a couple of days’ time.  Jesus concludes by saying, Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.  (NRSV)

Luke tells a story (in 7:36-38) that occurs much earlier in Jesus’ public life.  It takes place during Jesus’ Galilean Ministry.  In an unnamed town in that region Jesus is eating a meal in the home of Simon the Pharisee.  While Jesus and the others are at table a woman, who is characterized as “a sinner,” approaches Jesus with an alabaster jar of perfume.  She first weeps on Jesus’ feet and dries his feet with her hair.  Then, she anoints his feet with the perfume.  Jesus perceives the disapproval of Simon and tells his host a parable of two debtors, one forgiven a great deal and the other a small debt.  He then says something a bit confrontational: Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little.  This story concludes with Jesus extending forgiveness of sin to the woman.

  

That brings us once again to the Fourth Gospel.  Here, the Evangelist reports an occurrence six days before the Passover, once again in Bethany.  As I observed yesterday, textually the meal may or may not have been in the home of Lazarus, Mary and Martha.  But here Mary of Bethany – clearly identified – comes to Jesus with “a pound of perfume made from real nard.”  She anoints Jesus’ feet and dries his feet with her hair.  It is Judas Iscariot alone who condemns Mary for the extravagance.  The gospel writer characterizes Judas as a thief who coveted the money for himself.  Then the writer reveals the value of the gift (300 denarii).  Jesus defends Mary with almost the same words that he uses in the similar story in Matthew and Mark: “Leave her alone.”  Here, too, he evokes Deuteronomy and its observation on the poor.  Then, he re-interprets the act of Mary in a little more detail than the other writers.  He again states that this anointing has prepared him for his burial – though again, his contemporary audience is unaware of the immediacy of the event.

Commentators go ‘round and ‘round with this.  Any two accounts have marked similarities.  But, no two records are identical.  Rather, they have profound differences one from another.  Where?  When? Who?  Head or feet?  Why?  It would take a long time to plumb the questions, much less to begin to offer satisfactory conclusions.

I believe that one of the bits of genius – and mystery – of these accounts is that each writer, under inspiration, takes a core bit of material and weaves it into his own narrative for a purpose that may be much larger than the occurrence itself.  Is it about penitence and forgiveness?  Well, yes.  Is it about an offering of homage, perhaps on behalf of all to whom Jesus comes?  Of course.  Is it an act of thanksgiving for mercies extended by Jesus – including the resuscitation of a brother?  Does this include an affirmation of faith that may have been somewhat lacking earlier (“If you had been here, my brother would not have died!”).  I think so.  But each writer tweaks the core truth in such a way that its circumstance and significance reflect each writer’s large proclamation.

Do we have just one story? Yes… and no.  Are there three different stories?  Again yes… and no.  Are we right in the middle of them all?  Oh, yes.

I remember a story about Mary...

The Revised Common Lectionary (RCL) suggestion for the gospel reading on the Fifth Sunday in Lent (today) is the account in John 12:1-8 of the anointing of Jesus at Bethany.  The story tells of Mary of Bethany, sister of Martha and Lazarus, as she anoints Jesus’ feet with “a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard.” (verse 3)

Reading this account, a couple of things happen.  First, the story sounds familiar, and yet some of the details seem – what else to call it – wrong.  That is due in part to the fact that all four gospels contain a similar story.  Matthew and Mark tell (in almost identical language) of an event that happens in Bethany in the House of Simon the Leper.  Luke tells of a meal in the Galilean ministry of Jesus in the home of Simon the Pharisee where a “sinful woman” anoints Jesus' head with oil and then washes his feet with her tears and dries them with her hair.  John places the story in an anonymous home (though one could make the textual argument that it is the home of Lazarus, Mary and Martha) in Bethany.

I will come back around to some of these things later.  But here, I want to make the observation that in only one of these tales the name of the woman appears.  And it is in today’s reading, from John.  As I have said, the woman is Mary of Bethany, sister of Lazarus and Martha.

The identity of the woman is important to the story, and also to a better overall understanding of many accounts in the New Testament.  This is because at times it is like there is a Mary behind every rock and tree in the gospels.  Popular perception identifies many of the “sinful women” of the gospel stories as Mary Magdalene.  This is a terrible disservice, as there is no gospel reading that disparages this Mary.  Jesus exorcised many demons from Mary Magdalene.  After this she was one of the women who financed Jesus’ ministry.  She was an onlooker at the crucifixion of Jesus.  And, depending on which gospel account you read she was one of four, or three, or two or was the sole witness to the empty tomb on Easter morning and was a/the recipient of the resurrection announcement from the angel(s).  At no point do any of the gospels point an accusing finger at Mary Magdalene.

Of course, there are others.  We start with Mary the mother of Jesus.  There was Mary the mother of James and Joseph (from Matthew 27:56). There is “the other Mary” (from Matthew 28:1) who may or not be the same woman named in Mt. 27:56).  Mark 15:40 speaks of Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, again perhaps this is the same woman, or then again, perhaps not.

As for some of the other stories, the woman “caught in the very act of adultery” in John 8 is anonymous in the text.  Likewise, the “sinful woman” in the house of Simon the Leper in Luke 7 is without a name in the gospel.  Many other women sometimes receive the name Mary in our telling or re-telling the stories, but that reporting is frequently in error.  The woman at the well, the woman with the issue of blood, the Syro-Phoenician woman – none of these are Mary Magdalene, nor any other Mary, nor women whom the gospel writers name at all. 

It is the variety of participants in these accounts that help give them their power.  Jesus’ did not manifest his glory to a few, to an “inner circle” of hand-chosen individuals.  He was merciful to all, no matter what their station, and no matter what their name.  In Mark 14:3-9 (& Matthew 26:6ff) Jesus tells the folks who witness the act of this unnamed woman who extended such kindness to him that Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.  I daresay that, in light of this, it behooves us to get the story right.

The Methodist Episcopal Church charters the Women’s Foreign Missionary Society

It was on this date in 1819 that the Methodist Episcopal Church chartered the Women’s Foreign Missionary Society (MFMS) at Tremont Street MEC in Boston, Massachusetts.  The WFMS was the initial missionary society in the Methodist Episcopal Church.  At the time of its organization, the founders had sent invitations to 28 ME churches in the Boston area.  When the time came for the meeting, eight women were in attendance.  They showed up to a locked facility.  But, gaining entrance they prayed and heard reports from missionary wives who detailed the work of missions in foreign lands.

Along with several other groups it is the precursor to the contemporary United Methodist Women.  It was a freestanding organization until the Uniting Conference of 1939 (when the separated ME Church, the ME Church, South and the Methodist Protestant Church came together to form The Methodist Church).

At the time of that conference, the WFMS had supported 1,559 missionaries on four continents and seventeen nations.  It built 20 hospitals, 1,114 schools that employed 3,403 trained teachers and educated over 68,000 students.

At the Uniting Conference, the several Methodist-related mission societies came together to form the Wesleyan Service Guild and the Women’s Society of Christian Service.  For many years people in local churches still referred to these new groups as “The Missionary Society.”  At the constituting of The United Methodist Church in 1968 (where The Methodist church and The Evangelical United Brethren joined together), the WSG and the WSCS came together to form The United Methodist Women.

Denominational boards and agencies have largely taken over the “foreign missions” thrust of the UMW.  But they still work actively in the areas of women’s issues and children’s issues.  It is interesting that The Book of Discipline of The United Methodist Church (the book of denominational order and organization) to this day says that there “may be” a unit of United Methodist Men in a local church, but that there “shall be” a unit of the United Methodist Women.

"I submitted to be more vile..."

It was on this date in 1739 that John Wesley preached his first open-air sermon.  A few days earlier he had been witness to the “field preaching” of his friend and fellow Holy Club member George Whitfield.  Wesley was at first appalled by the idea of preaching anywhere but in a consecrated church/chapel. But, the pragmatist (and evangelist) in him could not argue with the result.  People were coming to affirm salvation even here, in the most unlikely of places. 

His Journal for April 2, 1739, records:

At four in the afternoon I submitted to be more vile, and proclaimed in the highways the glad tidings of salvation, speaking from a little eminence in a ground adjoining to the city, to about three thousand people. The scripture on which I spoke was this (is it possible any one should be ignorant that it is fulfilled in every true minister of Christ?), “The Spirit of the Lord is upon Me, because He hath anointed Me to preach the gospel to the poor. He hath sent Me to heal the broken-hearted; to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovery of sight to the blind; to set at liberty them that are bruised, to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord.'

The reference to “be more vile” is from 2 Samuel 6.  When Israel brought the ark of the covenant to Jerusalem, King David danced wildly at the head of the procession.  When he came home his wife Michal reproached him bitterly, accusing him of acting in the manner of a vulgar commoner before the people of Israel and even before his servants and slaves.

David’s response was that he was dancing and exhibiting his exuberance before God with no thought of what humans might think.  He then told her, “I will be even more vile,” promising to do such things again in praise of God, who had delivered the ark to David’s capital.

Wesley appeals to the same sympathy.  He himself – as noted above – had not been a big fan of preaching in the open air.  But he quickly came to see it as a way of glorifying God and serving the Divine purpose.  In that realization, he embraced the practice wholeheartedly and continued in it all his life.