Look and See (Lam 1.12)

A few meditations on the cross over the years to look at before another Good Friday passes by: 

here, 

here, 

here, 

here 

and here. 

Love in Jesus, 

Gene

Finished

Leaning Into Lent: Day 39—Majestic Submission

Lean closer. Listen. The city hums. The occasional motorcycle from the new spring crop rumbles by. The furnace hums. Purple finches squabble over bird seed at the feeders. Cars pass. Maddy, the dog, twitches and whimpers in her dreams on the sofa. Railway locomotive diesels throb through the coulee. Life goes on around me. Most people are enjoying a holiday. Most are oblivious to what we Jesus followers are up to on Good Friday just as they must have been in Jerusalem when Jesus drank the cheap sour wine, said "It is finished" and gave up his spirit. Life went on all around as "he poured himself out to death" (Isa 53:12); so many oblivious, then and now, to the final fight to the death for their souls and ours.

Lean even closer. Listen. Nothing seems to have changed.

I don't feel the anguish that Jesus felt. My life is not in danger. I can't crank the feelings up at will. But that's not the point. It really is finished. The point is to listen to the words of Holy Scripture, and to remember and to honour Him for—to give him worth for who He is and what He completed. I remember at an Evangelical Association city wide Good Friday service a few years ago, now retired Pastor Mark Bolender called what Jesus did, "majestic submission."

When I lean close and bow, my all too frail, willful and sinful humanity is brought into distressing relief when compared to His majestic innocence and submission.

And yet, I keep leaning in—listening. What makes Good Friday so very good is the way that through that majestic submission, "God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ." (2 Cor 4.6)

My heart cannot but glow in the face of such knowledge.

From Night Prayer:

Almighty God,
as we stand at the foot of the cross of your Son,
help us to see and know your love for us,
so that in humility, love and joy
we may place at his feet
all that we have and all that we are;
through Jesus Christ our Saviour.
Amen.

Gene+

Finished

Listen: a Meditation for Good Friday

Listen.

The city hums. The occasional motorcycle from the new spring crop rumbles by. Cars pass. Railway locomotive diesels throb. Pigeons converse on the bell tower. Life goes on around us. Most people are enjoying a holiday. Most are oblivious to what we're doing in here just as they must have been in Jerusalem when Jesus drank the cheap sour wine, said "It is finished" and gave up his spirit. Life went on all around as "he poured himself out to death" (Isa 53:12); so many oblivious, then and now, to the final fight to the death for their souls and ours.

Listen. Nothing seems to have changed.

I don't feel the anguish that Jesus felt. My life is not in danger. I can't crank the feelings up at will. But that's not the point. It really is finished. The point is to listen to the words of Holy Scripture, and to remember and to honour Him for, to give him worth, for who He is and what He completed. At the Evangelical Association service this morning, Pastor Mark Bolender from Hillcrest, called what Jesus did, "majestic submission."

Small it is, in this poor sort, as the hymn goes, for such as Him: our all too frail, willful and sinful humanity compared to His majestic innocence and submission. And yet, listen. What makes Good Friday so very good is the way that through that majestic submission, "God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ." (2 Cor 4.6)

So look inside. Look around you. And listen, listen to the words we are about to pray.

Posted with Blogsy

The Triduum—The Great Three Days at StB

This evening, the Triduum, or the The Great Three Days, the heart of the Church's liturgical year, begins with the Maundy Thursday liturgy.

"Maundy," the unusual adjective descriptive of this day, comes from the Latin mandatum, meaning "commandment," because this is the day on which the Lord gave the "new commandment" that we are to love one another. On this day He exemplified this love by washing the disciples' feet and also instituted the Lord's Supper, in which all of us who share the one bread are made one body in Christ. (Patrick Henry Reardon. Spring 2013 - The Daily Devotional Guide by Patrick Henry, The Fellowship of St. James)

So, our liturgy this evening (at 7pm) will include all those things: the new commandment, the foot washing and the Lord's Supper.

Foot Washing

Foot washing can be a challenge for those who are not used to it—all a bit too up close and a little creepy. Eleven years ago a woman wrote me the following note after Maundy Thursday worship and her first experience of foot washing:

Lent is one of the Church seasons when I quietly reflect on Jesus’ journey to the cross and his crucifixion. Maundy Thursday seems to me to be almost as sorrowful a day as Good Friday. The foot-washing ceremony is something I never took part in. This year as Maundy Thursday approached several of my friends told me what a powerful service they thought the foot-washing was.  

After a day and night of prayer and meditation, I realized that pride had kept me from the foot washing. Because of my hammer toes and rotten looking feet, I had never wanted anyone to see them. 

At the Maundy Thursday service, I was still ambivalent about having my feet washed. Images of Jesus washing his disciples feet flooded my thoughts and I said to myself, “Do it.”  

As my feet were being washed, a feeling of great humility came over me. As they were being dried, I felt a great desire to wash another’s feet. While doing so, I was filled with ecstasy and great emotion. I felt myself to be in a more spiritual realm. My soul was filled with wonderment and love. I was at the foot of the cross; a more fervent believer than ever before. 

Why was this experience so powerfully moving for this dear saint? When words aren’t enough, we perform rituals. A good ritual says something more than mere words can say. That’s what rituals are for. So we take a tuna casserole over when someone has had a loved one die. We give an aching spouse a back-rub. And we wash feet. Not because the feet need cleaning, but because our souls do. And we go the altar to eat little wafers and take tiny sips of wine, not because our bodies need them for sustenance, but because our souls do.

Nonetheless—All may, none must, some should.

Prayer Vigil

After our Maundy Thursday service this evening:
Following an ancient tradition, there will be an opportunity to watch for one hour in prayer as Jesus did at Gethsemane before the crowd came to arrest him.

A Maundy Manifesto

This sums it all up for today:
Love one another.
Wash one another’s feet (it's about holiness, not hygiene).
Eat the bread.
Drink the wine.
In remembrance of him.
Remember that.

Day Two and Three

The Triduum continues at StB with:
Good Friday
2pm: silent meditation around the Stations of the Cross
3pm: The Celebration of the Lord's Passion

It ends at StB with:
Holy Saturday
The Great Vigil of Easter as the sun goes down at 752pm.

A Good Friday Meditation with Reference to John 19:16b-17 for A Celebration of the Passion

So they took Jesus; and carrying the cross by himself… (John 19:16-17 NRSV) 

By himself. That's what it all come down to for Jesus. After all the travelling and teaching and enjoying (and being frustrated) by his companions, all the parties with the tax-collectors and sinners, and all the criticism, fear and wondering. He had to go through this alone. It's the same for each one of us ultimately. We will each meet our maker alone. And depending on things like the amount of sleep we're getting, our state of health, our emotional state; we will experience what might be called foreshadowing of what Jesus must have felt then. That sense of being alone in the universe.

But we have a choice about how we deal with that. It can be a bleak, barren, despairing, hopeless dark space inside us. Or, it can be something else. Some wise person has written about turning that lonely space inside us from a barren, wilderness to a "garden of solitude." How?

First, by being totally honest with God and acknowledging that we have an empty and lonely place inside and it hurts.

Then we fill that place with the things of God. What does that mean? It means some effort. We have to actively seek God. Where? In Jesus. In the Bible. In Christian companions. In church. In nature. In foolish acts of extravagantly generous foot-washing-like service to others. In eating the bread. In drinking from the cup and, above all, in loving one another as he loved us by walking through the crowd to that place of execution all by himself and then dying for us.

One more thing. A note about loving one another. Other people most need our love when they are feeling by themselves, alone in the universe. How can we serve them best? Baroness Caroline Cox, "Faith on the Frontline," in New Wine magazine:

…we have to remember that at the end of Christ's earthly life, all his mother could do was to stand at the foot of the cross and be with him in love and grief. Perhaps it is part of every church's calling to be prepared to attend whatever ‘Calvaries' our Lord may call us to attend, and to be present in love, grief and profound respect. 

To be with them in love. To be present. Then they are no longer by themselves.

Unity at the Cross: a Sermon for the Medicine Hat Evangelical Association Citywide Good Friday Service—with Reference to John 19:16b-30

Blessed are you, Lord God of our salvation, to you be praise and glory for ever. As a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief your only Son was lifted up that he might draw the whole world to himself. May we walk this day in the way of the cross and always be ready to share its weight, declaring your love for all the world. Blessed are you, Lord God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Blessed are you, Lord God for ever.

v16b "So they took Jesus." 

We still do, don’t we. We take him with us into our own denominational groups. It’s obvious Jesus is an Englishman, and therefore, Anglican, for heaven’s sake! He must be! He’s such a gentleman. No, someone says, because then he wouldn’t have been baptized in enough water. He’s really Baptist! No, no, the depth of the water is important but we mustn't let it quench being baptized with the Holy Spirit and fire say the Pentecostals. Wait a minute! He said eat my flesh and drink my blood—bread and real wine! He’s really Catholic or Lutheran. And so it goes. 

So they took Jesus, and they tried to cut him down to a manageable size—dead, in other words—because he didn’t fit their idea of what a Messiah should look like. If we’re honest, we have to admit we take Jesus and we try to make him fit into our own ideas—our own likes and dislikes, too. 

Jesus loves me, this I know. All you others, maybe so. I’m not sure that you belong. We are right, but they are wrong. 

How can we have unity at the cross if we’ve all taken Jesus and molded him into our own denominational preferences—our own images? 

v17 Meanwhile, Jesus, 

…went out, bearing his own cross (the one we’re supposed to be in unity at), to the place called The Place of a Skull, which in Aramaic is called Golgotha. 18  There they crucified him, and with him two others, one on either side, and Jesus between them. 

And Jesus between them. Here we all are with all our differences yet Jesus is between us. Jesus is between us to bring us to truth, to reconcile and heal. Jesus is between us to save. Jesus is between us to lovingly bind us together in holy unity if we’ll let him. Jesus is between us wanting to soften hard words. Jesus is between us to draw us closer together than we know how to be. In a few moments Jesus will be between us in the bread and the cup. Jesus is between us to bring us into unity at the cross.

v19 Pilate also wrote an inscription about his understanding of Jesus and put it on the cross. We write them, too. There was an argument over what Pilate’s inscription should have said. We argue over our inscriptions, too. Jesus is this, not that. Some of us even do it within our own denominations. What if we were to take down our denominational inscriptions and put something like this: “We are the Church in Medicine Hat. Jesus is all there is between us. That’s all the matters!” 

Instead, we’ve been like the soldiers who crucified Jesus when they 

v23  they took his garments and divided them into four parts, one part for each soldier

Haven’t we done the same. That bit looks good on you. But I like this bit of what Jesus wore. This is my colour. It suits me, don’t you think? That doesn’t go with my outfit. How can we have unity at the cross or anywhere else if we’re only wearing the bits of Jesus that we like? No, 

put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires," (Ro 13:14)

and our preferences—to pick and choose what bit we’ll put on—what we think makes us look best. 

Jesus is more like the tunic which was (v23) seamless, in one piece. Like this chasuble—which represents that tunic, worn by Catholic and some Anglican priests when they celebrate communion. When we put the LORD Jesus on, we are wearing integrity, beauty, unity.

v25 "but standing by the cross of Jesus were his mother and his mother's sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene." 

They were standing by the cross of Jesus. So are we. That’s the point of Good Friday. We’re here to stand by him, to adore him and bless him because by his holy cross he has redeemed world and if we die with him, we shall also live with him, if we endure, we shall also reign with him. Together. But first we have to acknowledge the danger we are in because of our disunity. 

Charles Henry Brent (1862-1929) was an Episcopal bishop of the Philippines and of Western New York (Episcopal is American for Anglican). He once said this: 

If it is a prophecy that the gates of hell shall not prevail against the Church, it is also prophecy that the Church divided against herself will fall. Disorder in the Church is more terrible than feuds in the family or civil war in the State. If war is an evil in national life, it is a thousandfold greater evil in Church life.

If unity has slipped from our grasp, it is the common fault of the Christian world. If it is to be regained it must be by the concerted action of all Christians. Every section has shared in shattering unity. Every section must share in the effort to restore it.

The unity of Christendom is not a luxury but a necessity. The world will go limping until Christ’s prayer that all may be one is answered. We must have unity, not at all costs, but at all risks. A unified Church is the only offering we dare present to the coming Christ, for in it alone will He find room to dwell.

Jesus is between us. Listen to what he said to the people who were with him at the cross: 

v26 When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to his mother, “Woman, behold, your son!” 27 Then he said to the disciple, “Behold, your mother!”

If Jesus is all there is between us, wouldn’t he say “You, brother, behold your sister! You, sister, behold your brother!” Jesus is between you to hold you together because,

There is one body and one Spirit—just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call— 5 one Lord, one faith, one baptism, 6 one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all. (Eph4:4-6)

v27 And from that hour the disciple took her to his own home.

Take your sisters and brothers into your hearts at all risks. Imagine what would happen if all of you showed up at the World Day of Prayer service every year! They’d have to have it here! Imagine if all our mainline brothers and sisters showed up at the Global Day of Prayer service at Pentecost! We'd have to be here for that, too!

v28 After this, Jesus, knowing that all was now finished, said (to fulfil the Scripture), “I thirst.”

He still does. Jesus is still thirsting for us to choose unity at all risks, trusting in him. Trusting in the indivisible integrity of what we wear when we put him on as LORD and Saviour. A unified church—brothers and sisters with Jesus the only thing between us, in unity at the cross—is the only unity at the cross we dare present to him on this or any Good Friday. 

Almighty Father, look with mercy on this your family for which our Lord Jesus Christ was content to be betrayed and given up into the hands of sinners and to suffer death upon the cross; who is alive and glorified with you and the Holy Spirit,

one God, now and for ever.

Good Friday: the Women of Jerusalem and the Sound of the Cross

Good Friday was good. I think Maundy Thursday and Good Friday are my favourites in Holy Week. I like the quiet. Connects with the introvert in me. 

The Women of Jerusalem

My favourite station of the cross is The Women of Jerusalem. I love the way the women of the Altar Guild make it up with feminine things: flowers, a lace handkerchief. Anachronistic, I know, but…

Today, I read part of the Passion from Matthew in my president's welcome at the citywide morning service and I noticed how Matthew goes out of his way to state there were women present. Right after the centurion and his men were filled with awe and said, "Truly this was the Son of God!" (Mt 27:54) he writes: 

There were also many women there, looking on from a distance, who had followed Jesus from Galilee, ministering to him. (Mt 27:55)

Our Altar Guild ladies minister to him when they do the Women of Jerusalem station the way they do.

Meditation on the Cross
We asked a visitor to the church to bring the large, rough wooden cross into the nave and down the aisle just before we began the Meditation. The hollow sound of it dragging on the floor sticks in my mind. I remember reading a poem by Milton Acorn for a Canadian literature educational series I did in my TV days in which he described someone's life as being like a sled being dragged across gravel. Not a bad metaphor for the bit of Jesus' life we honour on Good Friday.

Good Friday Pointed Bits

In BONFIRE OF THE SACRISTIES: TO THE 2006 GENERAL CONVENTION, a rather lengthy, but excellent piece on the declining state of the Episcopal Church of the USA, Allen C. Guelzo, Henry R. Luce Professor of the Civil War Era and professor of history at Gettysburg College writes:

We worship in a structured, liturgical fashion, while all around us, our culture celebrates informality, relaxation and spontaneity. We insist on defining the "marks" of the Church as oneness, holiness, and catholicity; the rest of American religion defines them (as Duane Arnold and George Fry have wryly suggested) as "upbeat music, adequate parking, a warm welcome, and a dynamic sermon."

Go there.

We Canadian Anglicans share the problem of declining numbers in our churches. Anthony, my son, has been reading Dutch Sheets on new-wine and the kind of wine-skins that can hold it:

As member of an Anglican church I often think about the importance of tradition in our forms of worship. I can see richness in this tradition which I think is good. Sometimes though I think I see more of an inability to be flexible and up with the times. I see people gripping “the ways it’s been” so hard that they become convinced that they are gripping God himself when they are clearly not.

Go there.

Ruth Gledhill keeps popping up in my exploriblogging. She writes for The Times. Here she reports on prayers for the Stations of the Cross at the Vatican:

At the Third Station of the Cross, where Jesus falls for the first time, Archbishop Comastri has written: “Lord, we have lost our sense of sin. Today a slick campaign of propaganda is spreading an inane apologia of evil, a senseless cult of Satan, a mindless desire for transgression, a dishonest and frivolous freedom, exalting impulsiveness, immorality and selfishness as if they were new heights of sophistication.”

At the Fourth Station, where Jesus is helped by Simon the Cyrene to carry the cross, Pope Benedict and his followers will pray: “Lord Jesus, our affluence is making us less human, our entertainment has become a drug, a source of alienation, and our society’s incessant, tedious message is an invitation to die of selfishness.”

One of the strongest meditations warns against the attack on the family. “Today we seem to be witnessing a kind of anti-Genesis, a counter-plan, a diabolical pride aimed at eliminating the family.”

There is a moving meditation for the Eighth Station, where Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem, describing the “River of tears shed by mothers, mothers of the crucified, mothers of murderers, mothers of drug addicts, mothers of terrorists, mothers of rapists, mothers of psychopaths, but mothers all the same”.

Now there is an example of fearless, counter-cultural, Christian leadership. Lord, have mercy on us all.