Good Friday. March 29, 2013

Good Friday, 2013

Today is a hard day.  The symbols we have all around us at church, and what we’re doing are designed to remind us about the solemnity of the day, and deep grief and sorrow.  More than remind us, we are put right in the middle of ambiguity, grief and sorrow.

Today’s service is the second in the three-part Triduum, the service that begins on Maundy Thursday, continues today and doesn’t conclude until the Easter Vigil.  Normally, our services begin with a beginning – a processional.   Then, we go through the liturgy of the word, and the liturgy of the sacrament, where at the Eucharist, Christ is actively made present.  We end with a recessional, and my favorite, a dismissal, sending God’s people out to do God’s work in the world.  

But not today.  Today, we enter in the middle of an extended three day service.  Yesterday it began, with the processional.  Tomorrow it will end with a joyous dismissal.  But today, we don’t really have a beginning or an ending.  We enter the service as if it’s already started (which it has) and we’ll leave without a proper ending, which there isn’t.  For us liturgical worshippers, this is unsettling.  I think it’s designed to be.

It’s more than just the structure of the service that is unsettling.  We don’t get to celebrate the Eucharist with the active part of making God’s presence real in the bread and wine.  We do get communion, but it’s with bread that’s already been consecrated, it’s from the reserve sacrament.  Christ is not invoked and made present in the same way as a full Eucharistic celebration.

We cover the crosses in black and wear black.

This is one of the few times in the Church year we are left to sit in the darkness, with all the familiar comforts stripped away.

At St Thomas’ and throughout the world, Christians walk the way of the stations of the cross, marking Christ’s tortuous death, step by step.  We witness the terror of his companions as they watch him go through this.  We watch as Mary’s side is pierced, and feel that pain too, as she watches her son go through unspeakable horrors.   We suffer through remembering and praying about Christ’s passion.

And here we sit in the midst of that. 

But Good Friday is about more than just feeling the pain of the Passion once again.  This year, there are horrible things occurring throughout the world.  As of February, armed lethal conflict was underway in Afghanistan, Burma Columbia Congo India Iraq, Israel Mali Nigeria Pakistan, Palestine Somalia, Sudan Syria, Thailand Turkey Yemen.  People die.  Families are destroyed. 

Last year, over 400 soldiers were killed in the conflict in Afghanistan and Iraq, with over 4000 Iraqi deaths during same period. 

In 2010, 20 million Americans were living in extreme poverty, with an income of $10,000 or less – for a family of four. 

Oregon has the highest child hunger rate in the nation.

There are very real things out there currently happening that should grieve us.  These are the horrors of our current world. And regardless of your politics or morals, real people – real children of God – are suffering.  We suffer when we remember all that’s wrong in the world. 

And today we sit in darkness and grieve. 

And the darkness and grief isn’t just sympathizing with Christ, or mourning atrocities throughout our world, although that’s a lot.  Today we sit with all the grief and sadness deep in our souls.  There is always grief and sadness deep within each of us.  Loved ones die.  Family members get sick and suffer.  Families are broken apart.    Bad things happen.  And sometimes we get caught up in the turmoil of it all, and we end up sad or anxious.  We lead busy crazy lives, and sometimes it’s too much.  Sad, anxious, fearful thoughts can flood us.  We suffer because of what’s going on in our own heads, unbeknownst to anyone but us.

Whether it’s thinking about Christ’s passion, the horrors in the world, or the trouble in our lives or our soul, this is real pain. This is real suffering.

And here we sit in the midst of that darkness and grieve. 

And yet, this is Good Friday. I know the rest of the story.  I know the story gets good. I know this is the necessary hard part before the good part. But Good?  It feels sometimes like we’re trying to make this horror-filled day all about sunshine and roses. Look on the bright side.  And normally, I’m all about looking at the bright side.  But today, we are supposed to grieve. This grief at Christ’s death, our world or our lives is real and should be honored. 

So where is the good in that?

In 1373, a young woman lay sick with the plague.  She had a series of visions of Jesus, one which focused largely on the events we honor today in his life.  Julian of Norwich thought about the pain and suffering of Christ, someone whom she’d given her life to.  She thought about the system and people and conditions that resulted in his murder.   She thought about the pain and suffering of those around him, the people he loved, his family.  Unbelievable sorrow.   And on that day, all those griefs and sorrows came together. 

The suffering in the world with government sanctioned torture and killing of Jesus and others. The suffering in the hearts and souls of the people involved, and the suffering of Jesus. All of these things are still with us today. 

And all those years ago, Julian of Norwich she saw them all coming together.  Her resulting insight about that is beautiful. She called it Oneing, which I suppose is the verb of becoming one.  She thought of that Oneing as our complete unity with God, and God’s complete unity with us.  

You see, as Christians, we believe in a God who was made man.  Through the man Jesus and in particularly through all of suffering from this day, God shared in the world’s collective grief and sorrow.  Through that moment of shared grief and sorrow, Christ cemented his humanity with ours.With that day, Jesus absolutely experienced all the human horrors we put each other through and the horrors we are put through. And because Jesus experienced this moment and knew the pain, God shared the moment and knew the pain.  This was the moment of Christ’s Oneing with us.   Christ suffered with the people at that moment. They shared their grief.  And because of that, God shares with you your grief, the world’s grief today.

So part of the Good of today is that through the events of Christ’s passion, God knows, God has experienced as a human, that grief and darkness in which we sit today.
Without any shared humanity, God could feel bad for us, but wouldn’t know.  But God does know. 

It’s not that today is really that great of a day.  But through the brilliance of a God-made-man, and what that man went through today, God is with us in our grief.  Today and whenever it hits.  That is good. 

And it is true.  We are in the middle of a three day liturgy.  We do know the service will end.  And we’ll have glorious music and a joy-filled dismissal.  

I am reminded of a quote from that theologian or at least the great actress, Dame Judy Dench from the movie The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, of a quintessential quote for Good Friday, worthy of framing.  It highlights the Good part of today. It’s not that today is any less bad or hard.  It doesn’t attempt to lighten the gravity of what’s happening with platitudes.  It does highlight however, the Good part of today, and what we as Christians believe about sin, evil and death.

“Everything will be all right in the end.  If it's not all right, then it's not the end.”

Amen.

Lent 5 C - March 17, 2013

In today’s Gospel, Jesus has come to the home of Mary, Martha and Lazarus, his friend recently raised from the dead. Martha serves the meal. Mary uses expensive fragrance to anoint Jesus’ feet, and then wipes his feet with her hair.

Take a moment to visualize this scene, to be in this scene.  Martha and Lazarus, wondering and watching their sister Mary. 

Jesus, perhaps surprised as he watches as Mary comes towards him and sit at his feet.

Mary, who takes this valuable perfume and anoints Jesus’ feet, lavishly pouring the oil.  People are watching, amazed, incredulous as the fragrance fills them.  And with everyone already focused on them and their interaction, Mary dries Jesus’ feet with her hair. 

And then there’s Judas – incensed at the apparent waste.  Mary should have sold that precious oil, and given the money to the poor.

This is one of the stories about Mary and Martha, two women who have become the archetype of two different personalities or dispositions.  Martha makes the meal, Mary sits at Jesus’ feet.  In the Gospel of Luke, Martha goes so far as to complain to Jesus about all her work, and all Mary’s non-work. And although John omits this part of the interaction between Martha, Mary and Jesus, you can still get a sense of the dynamic between Mary and Martha.  

I must admit that I’ve always had a special place in my heart for Martha, the worker bee - who busies herself with action.  Maybe because I’ve always felt more like Martha than Mary.  Maybe because I never really understood Mary.  But I’m slowly working on my Mary-ness. And it all started in the basement of the Seattle Center, about 5 years ago.   

For the five years before we moved from Seattle, I served as the VP of United Way.  While there, I had the honor of overseeing a service event for people experiencing homelessness, similar to the “Project Homeless Connect” organized by United Way here.   It was a one-day event for people experiencing homelessness where they could get legal assistance, state id cards, voice mail boxes, shelter and other benefit information, as well as services like portrait photos and hair cuts.

Because United Way could find no other organization eager to do it, I volunteered to organize a foot washing, at their request. This was not the ceremonial washing we do at church, but probably more like the original – washing the dirt and tired off the feet of weary travelers.  I got the supplies, secured the volunteers and oversaw the day.  The event was in the basement of the Seattle Center exhibition hall.   I had 8 foot washing stations in a little alcove near the bathrooms, 16 folding chairs in pairs of two facing each other, with a soaking bin between them, loads of towels, and bags of donated new socks.  Eight parishioners agreed to work for 6 hours that day, washing the feet of Seattle’s homeless. None of us knew what we were getting ourselves into. I’d also extended an invitation to the Bishops, who’d planned on attending.

So there we were.  Tentatively setting up amongst the food and health care providers, with our pink hospital soaking bins and towels. The first people came in and took off their socks & shoes. Most of the socks we threw away.  The air was full of emotions - nervous, embarrassed, intimate.   There was bustle and all of our senses were piqued. 

To begin with, it was awkward and nervous.  But once the people put their tired, cold feet in the warm soapy water, the barriers melted and we shared stories. After the first awkward 3 minutes we were companions. The people we saw had first names, and stories and children. After their feet soaked for as long as they wanted, they’d put their feet on the toweled lap of the washer to be dried. Some even got a lotion, powder or a little foot rub.

Mid-day, I was out talking to the interested onlookers. A gentleman stood in the hallway, extremely nervous and shy, but clearly interested in what we were doing. Fernando was about 55 years old, from Mexico, and didn't speak much English. He was a handsome, proud looking man, who looked like he’d seen a lot of life. Reluctantly he sat down and started to take off his socks and shoes. About that time, Bp. Nedi Rivera flew in the room from another meeting, rolled up her sleeves and asked how she could help. I asked if she would sit opposite Fernando, since she was the only one in the bunch who had any Spanish speaking skills.

Fernando was now even more nervous, with this Spanish-speaking woman with a collar on, sitting opposite him.  But soon they were talking in hushed Spanish. In the midst of the bustle, they were having the most intimate exchange – at least from what we all saw. She talked with him like he was the most important thing in the world.  We all saw that, and their interaction became central, in the midst of all of that bustle.  Soon, she was on the floor at his feet, both of them weeping. She leaned up and dried his eyes.  By now there was a palpable presence in the alcove.  She sat with him for a long time. She dried his feet with her towel, and when she’d finished drying his feet, she bent over and kissed his feet. 

On that day, I saw the power and grace of Mary’s actions, or more appropriately, the companionship she was able to offer in the absence of actions.  

During the time Bp. Nedi really sat with Fernando, they were both blessed.  They shared a very intimate moment.  She was present – really present with him.  In that brief exchange, she shared his life, shared his burdens during those few moments of companionship.   She was Mary at his feet.  

She served as a powerful model of how to really be present, and the impact she had on Fernando and all of the volunteers was lasting.

The day was a success in part because of the industrious and efficient volunteers, the people with tired feet, and those who donated supplies. I was very efficient and kept things running very smoothly.  I was in a Martha moment.  And because I was so busy doing things, I didn’t experience any blessed shared moments, similar to the one shared by Bp. Nedi & Fernando.  Because of the story they truly shared they were both blessed.  She sat with him.  She blessed him with her intentional focus. She created space.    

Mary’s gift was more than the perfume.  It was her intentional attention on Jesus that created space – space that was filled with grace. 

After the Seattle event, the Seattle Times ran a story about the day, the people helped and the volunteers. They talked to many of the providers, including our group and the story was a great recap of wide array of events that took place and the people touched that day.  

The public responded with comments to the story.  While they didn’t use the term “denari”, as Judas did, many readers wrote in response to the article that the money and time we spent on foot washing should have been spent for things “the homeless” really needed – food, shelter, health care. They claimed what we did was wasteful and not helpful.  Having been there, I know this to be untrue.

As a result of Bp. Nedi’s actions, and the comments from the Seattle Times, I began to understand Mary, to understand Jesus’ comment, “You will not always have me”.  Mary was present with Jesus.  She shared an extremely intimate moment, without regard for the hustle and bustle.  Without regard for what the others would think.  She became a part of a shared narrative, a story that only she and Jesus shared, because she was present and attentive, and served as a companion to him.

Next week, we begin Holy Week. Between Palm Sunday and Easter, we have the opportunity to be a companion with Jesus and with each other.  By doing that, we become a part of the story, of creating the space for a grace-filled moment. We are blessed.

On Maundy Thursday, we will again commemorate Jesus’ servant ministry by washing each other’s feet.  I think we approach that foot washing something like Paul in today’s Epistle.  He’s going on about how great he was.  Member of the people of Israel, tribe of Benjamin, a Pharisee, persecutor of the church.  Blameless.  He was much bigger, better, and above all that church stuff.  Like Paul saw himself and the church, I think we see the foot washing as something that’s too awkward, too silly, too contrived, something we don’t need.  Something we’re above.  But Paul goes on to say that he counts all that pretense as a loss, because of Christ, because of knowing Christ.  I know it’s awkward.  I know it’s uncomfortable.  But I also know that Jesus did this for his disciples.  And when you share that intimate moment, either as the washer or the person washed, you are creating space for a grace filled moment.  

I encourage you to be a companion to someone, to be really present, and to someone’s Mary.  Practice with each other, serving each other and being served by others.  Join in, stand up and get your feet washed. 

You will share an unbelievable, wordless sacred moment.  And God’s grace will fill the space between you.