Sunday, April 13, 2014

4th Passiontide, Palm Sunday 2014, Kingdom of the Dead

4th Passiontide

Palm Sunday
Matthew 21: 1-11
Entry into the City, John August Swanson

And they approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage by the Mount of Olives. Then Jesus sent two disciples ahead and said to them, “Go to the village which you see before you, and at once you will find a donkey tied there and her foal with her. Untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, tell him that the Lord needs them, and he will let you take them right away.”

This took place to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet:

‘Say to the daughter of Zion,
Behold, your king comes to you in majesty.
Gentle is He, and He rides on a donkey and on a foal of the beast of burden.’

The disciples went and did as Jesus had instructed them. They brought the donkey and the foal, placed their garments on them, and Jesus sat on them.
           
Many out of the large crowd spread their clothes on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of them and followed Him shouted:

Hosanna to the Son of David!
Blessed is he who comes in the Name and Power of the Lord!
Hosannah in the highest! [Sing to Him in the highest heights!]

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred and asked, “Who is he?” The crowds answered, “This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee.”

4th Passiontide, Palm Sunday
April 13, 2014
Matthew 21: 1-11

Kingdom of the Dead, Peter Callesen
We are entering Holy Week. The altar and vestments are black. In this week Christ battles the forces of duality, the forces of black and white. These are the false polarities of either /or, the black and white, yes/no of dead binary thinking. Good or bad. Heaven or Hell. By the end of the week he will enter into the Place of the Skull. He will die, and rise again.

Christ exists in the living world of flow, of change and transformation. He operates in the changing subtleties of the grayscale, in the nuances of color. His opponents ask Him questions designed to entrap Him. He gives them answers from outside of their framework, answers from the flowing world of a greater reality.

Today we still battle with the kind of deadness that our brain-bound intellect so easily falls into. We still tend to manifest one or the other of the ill-making polarities in the way we think, thus closing ourselves off from greater possibilities. Nevertheless, we strain to open our thoughts in reverence. We struggle to warm our hearts in empathy. We strive to act according to the inspiration of our conscience, our higher self.

In those moments when we manage reverence of  thought, when we generate heart’s love, when we do deeds of conscience, in those moments Christ can operate in the world. In such moments Christ is in us.  It is he that thinks in us, suffers in us, dies and rises in us. As Rilke says,

To work with Things in the indescribable
relationship is not too hard for us;
the pattern grows more intricate and subtle,
Take your practiced powers and stretch them out
until they span the chasm between two
contradictions ... For the god
wants to know himself in you.[1]







[1] Rainer Maria Rilke, in Ahead of All Parting, ed. and translated by Steven Mitchell



4th Passiontide 2013, Bright Wedge of Freedom

Lorenzetti
4th Passiontide
Palm Sunday
Matthew 21: 1-11

And they approached Jerusalem and came to Bethphage by the Mount of Olives. Then Jesus sent two disciples ahead and said to them, “Go to the village which you see before you, and at once you will find a donkey tied there and her foal with her. Untie them and bring them to me. If anyone says anything to you, tell him that the Lord needs them, and he will let you take them right away.”

This took place to fulfill what was spoken through the prophet:

‘Say to the daughter of Zion,
Behold, your king comes to you in majesty.
Gentle is He, and He rides on a donkey and on a foal of the beast of burden.’

The disciples went and did as Jesus had instructed them. They brought the donkey and the foal, placed their garments on them, and Jesus sat on them.
           
Many out of the large crowd spread their clothes on the road, while others cut branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of them and followed Him shouted:

Hosanna to the Son of David!
Blessed is he who comes in the Name and Power of the Lord!
Hosannah in the highest! [Sing to Him in the highest heights!]

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was stirred and asked, “Who is he?” The crowds answered, “This is Jesus, the prophet from Nazareth in Galilee.”

4th Passiontide,
Hippolyte Flandrin
Palm Sunday
March 24, 2013
Matthew 21: 1-11

Vessels, a jar, a bowl, carry contents. The content is on the inside, and the vessel surrounds it. But there is a complementary gesture; the person carrying the bowl carries both the bowl and its contents.

Christ Jesus enters Jerusalem borne on a beast of burden and its foal. This animal is a symbol of our physical body. The body bears the weight of our destiny and of our deeds. In the picture language of this symbol, Christ is both inside and outside. Christ is the content of the vessel of the body of Jesus; Jesus’ body is the vessel for Christ’s spirit of love. And at the same time, Christ rides above the bodily beast of burden. And he guides it regally toward its own suffering and death, and toward its resurrection.

We too are spiritual beings carried within a bodily vessel. Our body as a beast of destiny’s burden carries us, too, ultimately toward the end of earthly life that we all must approach.

But our hearts can connect with Christ. He can be the content of our souls, the ‘small, bright wedge of freedom in your own heart’,[1] as the poet says. And at the same time, He can be both content and the One carrying the vessel. Our heart’s connection with Christ gives us One who rides with us, guides us. He is riding both the old beast of destiny’s burden, and the young foal which will carry us into the future. He accompanies us on our journey with His strength and love.





[1] David Whyte, “The Journey”.

Friday, April 11, 2014

3rd Passiontide 2008, The Listening Ear

3rd Passiontide
John 8: 1-12

Jesus returned to the Mount of Olives; but as soon as day dawned he was already in the Temple court, where the people flocked to him, and he sat down and began to teach them. The teachers of the law and the Pharisees led in a woman caught in adultery. They made her stand in the middle, and said to Jesus, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery. In the law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?” They said this only as a trap, in order finally to have a reason for accusing him.

But Jesus bent down, and started to write something in the earth with his finger. When they kept on pressing him with questions, he stood up and said to them, “Whoever among you is without sin, let him cast the first stone at her.” And again, he bent down and wrote in the earth.

When they heard this, their conscience began to stir within them, and they went out, one after the other, beginning with the eldest. And only Jesus was left and the woman who stood in the middle. Jesus stood up, and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one passed judgment on you?”

“No one, sir,” she said.

“Then neither do I judge you,” Jesus declared. “Go now, and leave your life of sin.”

3rd Passiontide Sunday
March 9, 2008
John 8: 1-12

The light and warmth of the sun can be absorbed or reflected. A dark object absorbs the warmth. A light, polished surface stays cooler. It mirrors light back.

Our minds and hearts can also absorb or reflect. We can listen, absorb, take in. When what we take in enters not just our minds, but our hearts, we can become warm. In so doing, we ourselves are likely to be transformed.

And we can also listen and reflect back. Usually we reflect back our own soul’s reaction. We reflect our mind’s rush to judgment. An immediate mirroring may be for us a kind of self-protection, coming from the soul’s defensive armoring. Being too quick to deflect with our thinking, we bypass absorbing the other into our heart and possibly being transformed.

In this gospel reading, Christ proves Himself to be a human being whose heart and mind work together in a healing way. He does not reject the woman because she breaks the law. He takes her into His great heart, the warmth of His great understanding of the ways of human behavior, of social interaction, of karma. He then reflects back to her not judgment, but gives her the strength of His warm understanding and His encouragement to do better. He absorbs her life into His. He carries her in the light of His life.

The poet Nelly Sachs wrote,

How long have we forgotten to listen!
He planted us once to listen
Like lyme grass by the eternal sea ....
Although we have business
that leads us far
From his light….
We must not sell our ears….
Press, oh press in the day of destruction
The listening ear to the earth,
And you will hear, through your sleep,
You will hear,
How in death
Life begins.[1]

The deeds of each one of us are written into the earth. But the earth has become Christ’s body. He absorbs all of our deeds. He carries us in His great heart. He gives us the encouragement and the strength to do better. We walk in the light of His life.

www.thechristiancommunity.org






[1] Nelly Sachs (1891-1970), “How Long Have We Forgotten to Listen!” in Women in Praise of the Sacred, Jane Hirschfield, p.217. 

Thursday, April 10, 2014

3rd Passiontide 2009, It is Still There


3rd Passiontide
Rembrandt
John 8: 1-12

Jesus returned to the Mount of Olives; but as soon as day dawned he was already in the Temple court, where the people flocked to him, and he sat down and began to teach them. The teachers of the law and the Pharisees led in a woman caught in adultery. They made her stand in the middle, and said to Jesus, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery. In the law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?” They said this only as a trap, in order finally to have a reason for accusing him.

But Jesus bent down, and started to write something in the earth with his finger. When they kept on pressing him with questions, he stood up and said to them, “Whoever among you is without sin, let him cast the first stone at her.” And again, he bent down and wrote in the earth.

When they heard this, their conscience began to stir within them, and they went out, one after the other, beginning with the eldest. And only Jesus was left and the woman who stood in the middle. Jesus stood up, and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one passed judgment on you?”

“No one, sir,” she said.

“Then neither do I judge you,” Jesus declared. “Go now, and leave your life of sin.”

3rd Passiontide

March 29, 2009
John 8: 1 -12

In order to be healthy, water needs to flow. It can flow into a quiet lake. But if there is no outflow, it stagnates. Eventually it turns salty, like the Salton Sea or the Dead Sea.

Our very useful faculties of discernment and judgment are like water; to be healthy, they need to flow both in and out. The lawyers who caught the woman in adultery were quite correct in their discernment—the woman had indeed committed adultery. But until the lawyers were willing to let discernment flow into themselves, their relationship to the law and the social order was not healthy. Their judgment was instead literally death-dealing. Self-awareness, in-flowing self-discernment, allowed them to crack their stony hard-heartedness. They begin to flow away from the deadly place of judgment.

Christ discerns that the woman is indeed a sinner, as indeed we all are. He neither condemns, nor does He say that her sin doesn’t matter. Instead he shows the way forward and out, toward health and re-integration: “Go now and leave your life of sin.” Keep moving, keep flowing away from the place of your stagnation. John 8: 11

And then He says to all of us: “I am the shining river of the light of the world. Whoever flows with me will never be in darkness, but the Light of the direction of Life will shine for him.” John 8: 12

Leaving our stagnation, and joining with Him, we can once again take our place in the great flowing channel of being. We can become those through whom the water of life flows, rather than stops; those through whom love flows; those through whom flows the world’s evolving.

The poet says:

Don't say, don't say there is no water.
That fountain is there among its scalloped
green and gray stones,

it is still there and always there
with its quiet song and strange power
to spring in us,

up and out through the rock.[1]


www.thechristiancommunity.org





[1] Denise Levertov, “The Fountain, “

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

3rd Passiontide 2010, Light along the Path

3rd Passiontide
John 8: 1-12

Jesus returned to the Mount of Olives; but as soon as day dawned he was already in the Temple court, where the people flocked to him, and he sat down and began to teach them. The teachers of the law and the Pharisees led in a woman caught in adultery. They made her stand in the middle, and said to Jesus, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery. In the law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?” They said this only as a trap, in order finally to have a reason for accusing him.

But Jesus bent down, and started to write something in the earth with his finger. When they kept on pressing him with questions, he stood up and said to them, “Whoever among you is without sin, let him cast the first stone at her.” And again, he bent down and wrote in the earth.

When they heard this, their conscience began to stir within them, and they went out, one after the other, beginning with the eldest. And only Jesus was left and the woman who stood in the middle. Jesus stood up, and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one passed judgment on you?”

“No one, sir,” she said.

“Then neither do I judge you,” Jesus declared. “Go now, and leave your life of sin.”
 3rd Passiontide
March 21, 2010
John 8: 1-12

Halfway through his life, the poet Dante[1] finds himself in a dark forest, not quite knowing how he got there. He is threatened by three beasts who impede his path. In his despair he appeals to one who guides him further along his way by offering to take him along  another path.

We too, sometimes find ourselves ‘in a dark wood’, not quite knowing how we got there, lost and imperiled. For someone to approach us and judge that we are hopelessly lost would not help—we already know that. What we need is a guide who takes us under his care and shows us another path.

Christ did not come to earth to pronounce judgment on human lives. By becoming human, he came to understand the human condition from the inside. He came to offer his strength, his clarity, his guidance. He can extend our clouded vision. He can help us recognize that we need to take another path, go in another direction. To the soul who had adulterated her true life’s path, he said, ‘Go. Go elsewhere; walk another path that does not send you to the beasts’.
For us too, Christ appears in our extreme need. He comes to give life’s light to us. Christ is here as a guide. He is here as light along the path in darkness that we all walk.

www.thechristiancommunity.org





[1] Dante Alighieri, “The Divine Comedy”.

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

3rd Passiontide 2011, Secret Recesses

3rd Passiontide
John 8: 1-12

Breughel
Jesus returned to the Mount of Olives; but as soon as day dawned he was already in the Temple court, where the people flocked to him, and he sat down and began to teach them. The teachers of the law and the Pharisees led in a woman caught in adultery. They made her stand in the middle, and said to Jesus, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery. In the law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?” They said this only as a trap, in order finally to have a reason for accusing him.

But Jesus bent down, and started to write something in the earth with his finger. When they kept on pressing him with questions, he stood up and said to them, “Whoever among you is without sin, let him cast the first stone at her.” And again, he bent down and wrote in the earth.

When they heard this, their conscience began to stir within them, and they went out, one after the other, beginning with the eldest. And only Jesus was left and the woman who stood in the middle. Jesus stood up, and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one passed judgment on you?”

“No one, sir,” she said.

“Then neither do I judge you,” Jesus declared. “Go now, and leave your life of sin.”
 3rd Passiontide
April 10, 2011
John 8: 1-12

There are illnesses that show outwardly—the cough, the rash. And there are those that grow silently, malignantly within.

The Hebraic lawyers fixed their attention on other people’s outer behaviors. Extreme measures were taken to eliminate those who could not control themselves in accordance with the Law.



But Christ brings with Him another law. It is the law of a warm light, which shines not only on outer deeds, but also into the secret recesses of the human heart. He asks us all to shine His light of merciful discernment not only on others, but also within. For we all have two beings within our breast. One is critical and judgmental; it wants to dominate others. The other is soft and loving, but perhaps too weakly passive.

Christ’s loving heart gives us a third way. He gives us a healthy Self that condemns neither itself nor others. At the same time, this healthy Self has the strength to assert itself against the main causes that separate us from Him, namely fear and illusion. With the light of His love, we can find both strength and loving kindness.

For as the poet says:
Before you know what kindness really is
you must lose things,
feel the future dissolve in a moment
like salt in a weakened broth.
….Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
….Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
….only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
it is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.[1]






[1] Naomi Shihab Nye, “Kindness,” in ten poems to open your heart, Roger Housden, p. 67. 

Monday, April 7, 2014

3rd Passiontide 2012, Strength for Deeds


3rd Passiontide
Dore
John 8: 1-12

Jesus returned to the Mount of Olives; but as soon as day dawned he was already in the Temple court, where the people flocked to him, and he sat down and began to teach them. The teachers of the law and the Pharisees led in a woman caught in adultery. They made her stand in the middle, and said to Jesus, “Teacher, this woman was caught in the act of adultery. In the law, Moses commanded us to stone such women. Now what do you say?” They said this only as a trap, in order finally to have a reason for accusing him.

But Jesus bent down, and started to write something in the earth with his finger. When they kept on pressing him with questions, he stood up and said to them, “Whoever among you is without sin, let him cast the first stone at her.” And again, he bent down and wrote in the earth.

When they heard this, their conscience began to stir within them, and they went out, one after the other, beginning with the eldest. And only Jesus was left and the woman who stood in the middle. Jesus stood up, and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one passed judgment on you?”

“No one, sir,” she said.

“Then neither do I judge you,” Jesus declared. “Go now, and leave your life of sin.”
3rd Passiontide

March 25, 2012
John 8: 1-12

If we were to go to the beach, and write ‘I love you’ in the sand, the letters would be washed away. The words would disappear. But their meaning, the love itself, would still exist.

Our deeds are the letters we write into the earth. Whether public or secret, they may seem to disappear. But their meaning remains.

A modern poet writes:

…it's wrong to think people are a thing apart
from the whole, as if we'd sprung
from an idea out in space, rather than emerging

from the sequenced larval mess of creation
that binds us with the others,
all playing the endgame of a beautiful planet….[1]

Jesus bent down and started to write something in the earth. The story doesn’t say what he wrote. But it certainly had something to do with deeds and their meaning for the earth.

Christ’s whole life, His death and His resurrection have inscribed their meaning permanently into the earth. And their meaning still speaks: I love you, He says. I recognize your deeds. And I love you. Let my love for you shine before you. Let my love give you the strength for deeds of worth.






[1] Alison Hawthorne Deming , “The Enigma We Answer by Living”  in Genius Loci