Holy Wednesday: Ceasing to Work

One of things that was always getting Jesus into trouble was the way he kept–and didn’t keep–the Sabbath. The Biblical literalists had so many applications for how they understood the Torah that God’s original intent had been too often lost. When Jesus came to be one of us, time and again he lived to show us the Truth of God’s love. He healed on the Sabbath and picked grain on the Sabbath and showed us what the law of Love was truly like.

Truth is, keeping Sabbath today gets us into trouble, too. We are respected for all that we do and accomplish, and we don’t get promotions or awards this side of heaven for ceasing to work once a week.  But doing so is what God says is holy, and when we choose to give one day each week back to God’s care and to cease to be in charge, we are actually being honoring God.

This is the eve of the Triduum–those three days of worship that are the grand conclusion of Lent and Holy Week, and I have chosen to keep a Sabbath.  For twenty four hours, I will intrust my work to God.  Granted, I worked at the church until nearly ten last night in order to be able to have a Sabbath today; there were things that were left undone, and I will take them back first thing tomorrow.

Today I slept late.  I read the paper.  I had some lovely prayer and reading time in my prayer chair.  I’ll cook a good dinner.  I’ll work in the yard.  I won’t check my work email.

Tomorrow is Maundy Thursday and I’m back to work–hearing the Reconciliation of a Penitent, finishing the Maundy Thursday sermon, hiring a new staff person, tending to some pastoral needs, doing some final last minute Good Friday and Easter planning.

But not today.  It’s my day to walk with God in the garden.

I pray that all who read this will find a place of Sabbath this Holy Week.  It’s good to be rested before we go on that difficult journey with Christ to the cross.

Tuesday: Full of Light

St. Patrick’s Episcopal, North Carolina

Jesus said to them, “The light is with you for a little longer. Walk while you have the light, so that the darkness may not overtake you. If you walk in the darkness, you do not know where you are going. While you have the light, believe in the light, so that you may become children of light.” 
 John 12. 35–36

This is the Gospel appointed for today, Holy Tuesday.  Someone asked me this morning how my Holy Week was going.  I told them that it felt like I was in the busy-ness of Jerusalem walking with Jesus as he carried his cross.  It feels like there is a whirlwind around me of voices, needs, distractions, and it’s harder than easier to remember that today is not about the busy-ness but about the Jesus.
Granted, there are fires to put out (thankfully, not literally at this point).  There are worship leaflets to be proofed; there are words to be written; there are pastoral situations where I want to provide care.  There are phone calls to be made and returned; there are staff concerns to tend.  I am grateful that I have aplace to serve God where I am needed and valued, but it’s a lot of noise all about me.

Church of the Incarnation, Bethlehem

Then I remember the light.  When I was on Sabbatical, into almost every church or holy place I went, I lit candles and prayed for one person or another, one group or another.  I lit candles in Israel, Jordan, England, and Scotland as well as several different states.  Each of those candles reminded me of the Light that is always with us.  
As I look out my window, the world is full of light.   It’s one of those perfect spring days.  It’s as if the Holy Spirit has lit one huge candle of love and joy.
In the midst of all that surrounds, I can hold that Light in my heart. Holding that Light, I can walk fully present with Christ.  Maybe by being more aware of that Light, I’ll be able to share that Light with someone who is only seeing the darkness.  And Jesus has told us, that whenever we give to someone else, we give to him.  Seeing his light, I have something to share.  Sharing his light with someone else, I have in fact shared the light with him.   Not a bad way at all to walk with Jesus on the way to the cross this Holy Tuesday.


Church of the Sepulcher of St. Mary, Mount of Olives, Jerusalem

Monday, that is, Holy Monday

At St. Mary’s, we don’t do announcements during worship.  What we do instead is at the Offertory have some conversation about ways that we offer our lives to God.  We often feature a ministry that has immediate opportunities to serve.

This week’s ministry of the week is Holy Week and Easter.  Yesterday as we began to talk about our immediate opportunity to serve by being part of daily worship this last week of Lent, I noticed a typo in the calendar.  As the week’s events were listed, the weekly calendar said “Monday, March 25; Tuesday, March 26, Wednesday, March 27.”  Certainly, as far as the world goes, this is indeed correct.  But for people of faith, this is not any Monday, but Holy Monday;  tomorrow isn’t any Tuesday, but Holy Tuesday; and Wednesday won’t be any Wednesday but Holy Wednesday.  Each of these days are particular days of devotion, and we that love Jesus are called to especially walk with him on these holy days of Holy Week.

The Gospel appointed for today is John 12. 1–11 ( if it seems familiar, we also heard this lesson a week ago on the Fifth Sunday of Lent).  This is St. John’s version of the woman who anoints Jesus’ feet with costly oil;  in his version, it is Jesus’ dear friend, Mary, the sister of Lazarus and Martha.  This takes place in their home in Bethany a week or so before Jesus’ arrest, crucifixion, and death.

When I was in Israel in September, one of the places that I went was Bethany Lazarus, remembered as the town these three friends of Jesus lived.  Only a couple of miles from Jerusalem, Jesus walked frequently between Mary, Martha, and Lazarus’ home and Jerusalem.  We particularly hear of these frequent walks in St. Mark’s version of Jesus’ last week before his death.  Today, this is no easy walk, much less an easy drive, because it is on the Palestinian side of the walk that Israel built to protect itself from Palestinian terrorists.  This wall, as all walls do, not only makes entry difficult for potential terrorists, it also prevents tourists and ordinary citizens easy access.

 I wonder this Holy Monday.  What walls have we set up that keep God out?  What walls have we built to protect us, we think, from harm that instead prevents God’s good gifts from coming into our lives as well?

This is Monday in Holy Week.  Will you walk with Jesus today?

A labyrinth!!!!!!!

The most amazing thing happened yesterday afternoon. My best friend is reading a book about labyrinths this Lent (and thus the labyrinth finding and walking), and in the book was a pattern to create your own labyrinth. Could we use these directions to write a labyrinth on the Tybee beach?

Prepared with a walking stick as our writing instrument and a photo of the instructions on a smart phone, we walked the half mile to the beach. Finding a spot with enough space for a labyrinth, as strollers walked by, as spring breakers played football, we began to write the labyrinth.

My friend drew, and I read the directions. Challenging at first to follow, once we began to get the rhythm of the pattern it became easier to connect lines and dots. When it appeared to be complete, I quickly tried it out to see if we had indeed written the labyrinth.

Before I could get to the center with exuberant joy, a beach stroller stopped to ask about what we were doing and began her own labyrinth walk.

Other people stopped to look at what had been done, and a handful took the first steps to begin the labyrinth walk.

I walked the labyrinth again and again, each time still amazed that we had written this labyrinth in beach sand. After adding some words to the perimeter (FEED; PEACE; GRATITUDE; LABYRINTH OFFERED TO THE GLORY OF GOD + 5TH SUNDAY OF LENT 2013) it was time to leave this prayer path to footprints and wind and ocean waves, and hopefully a few more walkers.

I was thoughtful about prayer and reminded of words from the Psalms:

Let my prayer be set before you like incense; The lifting up of my hands like the evening sacrifice. Psalm 141. 2

PS Read my friend’s take on our labyrinth
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