Easter - March 31

Easter 2013

What is there to say about Easter? It’s a celebration of life over death that Christians see in the resurrection of Christ. That celebration is overlaid on top of the Spring and fertility rituals of other cultures, and in fact the name “Easter” itself is not of Christian origin. I smile knowing that the highest Christian holiday is named for the goddess of the dawn, Eostre (of Anglo-Saxon origin) or Ostara. Some rather xenophobic Christians say that this is reason enough to stop celebrating Easter altogether. They can quit if they want to, but I kind of like Easter and its life-affirming position so I think I’ll keep it.

                A few observations about Easter, or the resurrection of Jesus, if you will: it is not depicted in any of the four canonical gospels. All we are shown is the empty tomb. We do not get to see the actual event itself. Beyond that, the 4 gospels begin to diverge in some significant ways: In Mark (the earliest gospel), it is the 3 women who find the empty tomb and hear the announcement that Jesus is risen from a youth, who tells them that Jesus will meet them on the road back to Galilee. In Luke, we now have two people (the Greek noun says men) in bright clothing who tell the women not to look for the living among the dead. In Matthew, the earth quakes when an angel rolls the stone back, causing the guard to faint dead away (Mark mentions neither angels nor guards). Again the message is given that Jesus will meet them back in Galilee.  John (the newest of the 4 gospels) tells us that Mary Magdalene is alone when she encounters the empty tomb, but she runs and gets Peter and the guys who run to the tomb and check it out for themselves.

                What I take from these various attempts to describe what happened is this: none of us ever witnesses resurrection itself. What follows in all four gospels are widely divergent accounts of people experiencing the risen Christ in their lives and in their midst. And, I believe, it is this ongoing experience that has fueled the best of the church ever since. People continue to experience the living Christ’s presence in widely divergent and mostly unexplainable ways but it is those experiences that sparked the early believers to continue on the Way, and do so for us as well.

                Episcopal Bishop John Shelby Spong has written specifically about this ineffable experience when he tries to enter into the mystery of the resurrection: http://www.beliefnet.com/Faiths/Christianity/2001/04/The-Easter-Moment-Drawing-Conclusions.aspx
Maybe for those of us who look at things through a progressive lens this should be added as a fifth account.

                But it brings me to what I think Easter should be: us telling each other our resurrection stories, times and places where we caught a glimpse of something Christ-like on the road ahead of us or a healing presence when part of us was dying, or the love that beckons us to rise when all we thought we wanted to do was die. If Easter, or Christianity itself, is to make any sense in this hurting, crazy world of ours, then we have to tell our stories. Not to prove to disprove anyone else’s experience, just to say this is what I know, what I see, what I feel. Did Jesus bodily rise from death and walk or fly out of the tomb? To me, the answer to that question is irrelevant. What I can answer is how I sense the life of Christ in my own life.

                I’m still looking for music that we can use in worship that gathers all this together, and will probably be looking for a long time. Here’s a couple that I have found. The first is an old Melissa Etheridge song, “Heal Me.” Not a great video, but really good lyrics. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rB5p_Vi4HXg
The other is by Christopher Grundy (the “More Light” guy): Every Step of the way https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=Wj0cHXzAGTI
Not directly speaking to Easter, but easy to sing and talks about being on the Way.

I’m also wrestling with re-writing Christ the Lord is Risen today, but as usual the Spirit is waiting three days for resurrection to happen.

                How have you experienced resurrection? How can we offer a worship experience that invites people to the possibility of their own experience?

Lessons from Downton Abbey - Palm Sunday

Lessons from Downton Abbey, Week 6 – Palm Sunday, March 24

Bates, the Wounded Servant

Luke 19:29-38
As Jesus came to Bethphage and Bethany on the Mount of Olives, he gave two disciples a task. He said, “Go into the village over there. When you enter it, you will find tied up there a colt that no one has ever ridden. Untie it and bring it here.  If someone asks, ‘Why are you untying it?’ just say, ‘Its master needs it.’”  Those who had been sent found it exactly as he had said.  As they were untying the colt, its owners said to them, “Why are you untying the colt?”  They replied, “Its master needs it.” They brought it to Jesus, threw their clothes on the colt, and lifted Jesus onto it.  As Jesus rode along, they spread their clothes on the road. As Jesus approached the road leading down from the Mount of Olives, the whole throng of his disciples began rejoicing. They praised God with a loud voice because of all the mighty things they had seen.  They said, “Blessings on the king who comes in the name of the Lord.
    Peace in heaven and glory in the highest heavens.”

John 13:1-15

Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him. And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, ‘Lord, are you going to wash my feet?’ Jesus answered, ‘You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.’ Peter said to him, ‘You will never wash my feet.’ Jesus answered, ‘Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.’ Simon Peter said to him, ‘Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!’ Jesus said to him, ‘One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.’ For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, ‘Not all of you are clean.’ After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, ‘Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.

                We began Lent by suggesting that the characters of Downton Abbey could give us some clues about following (actually apprenticing to) Jesus in our own world and lives. This Sunday is Palm Sunday, and the traditional texts bring us to what is commonly called the Triumphal Entry. My memory from Sunday School was that Jesus entered Jerusalem being heralded as king. I don’t remember any sense of political intrigue in this event (What would Herod – much less Caesar – think of that proclamation?).  What I remember is that the people would of course recognize Jesus as the true king, the appropriate heir of David’s throne, because of course WE see him that way. At that oung age I knew nothing about political theater or demonstrations and I’m sure my teacher did not read this story with those genres in mind. But today I cannot read or hear this story without that awareness that Jesus and his followers were very likely presenting an ironic critique of the status quo, the kings who upheld it. I don’t believe that Jesus really wanted to wear Herod’s crown any more than he wanted to be the next Caesar in Rome. The “Triumphal Entry” was a way of demonstrating what Mark’s gospel has Jesus saying at the very first: The Kin-dom of God has come near.

                John’s gospel shows that in an equally dramatic, though more intimate, episode. Jesus (an out and proud Messiah the way John tells it) strips to the waist and washes the feet of his students, and imbues this behavior with the implication that they should go and do likewise. For John, Jesus is the king who serves; authority is exercised by caring for the lowliest needs of the other. All four gospels use royal language when speaking of Jesus, but I believe it is used to present an alternative to the present world situation, not to simply put Jesus in charge of the present world situation.

                Throughout this series we have been looking at the various characters, titled and servant class alike, to find hints at how to live under the tutelage of Christ. While we have not explicitly asked “Where is Christ?” in this character, that seems to be the compelling question. If not where is Christ, at least how would the Christ respond? And so on this Palm Sunday we come to the Downton character that I see as the most Christ-like (obviously not entirely but like the rest of us, he’s only human) character: Bates.

                Bates enters the series as a wounded servant. He carries with him a physical reminder of the war in which he and Lord Grantham served together and his limp is a symbol of the wounds that all the other characters have but in not so noticeable ways. It is obvious that Bates has endured violence, and he continues to do so (both physical and psychological) at the hands of his co-workers. Only Grantham’s overwhelming sense of obligation to Bates keeps him from leaving at the end of the first episode. Still, Bates refuses to return harm for harm. And even though Bates has reason to retaliate, and damning evidence against the devious Thomas, he stalwartly refuses to cause anyone to lose their job – even an enemy. He serves his family with humility and honor, and even resigns to prevent even a hint of scandal to come near to the house of Grantham. When Carson’s past as a vaudevillian is exposed, bates offers no judgment.  I realize that this may not be a part of the character study, but the actor portraying Bates has what I believe is the warmest smile on the show, and when he smiles it warms the entire scene.

                And there is one particular episode that I believe speaks to us about how to be followers of Christ in our complicated world. Bates seeks a cure for his limp. He obtains a device that is supposed to correct his infirmity: a steel brace that screws into the flesh of his leg. The device tortures him as he tries to endure the pain in order to attain its promised cure. Finally Mrs. Hughes forces Bates to divulge this secret. At the end of the episode, the two of them gather at the side of the pond where Bates flings the instrument of pain into the waters and accepts himself just as he is: wounded, limping, but whole. Too many times I think Christianity has been offered to people like that leg brace: promising a “cure” for life but instead inflicting unnecessary and ineffectual pain. I believe Christ asks us to fling the instruments of our spiritual and physical torture into the abyss and live the life we are given, even if we limp.

                I see parallels between the Christ who enters Jerusalem on an unassuming donkey and Bates who enters Downton with a quiet dignity and grace. He does not seek equality with Lord Grantham, or any other person there, but he soon becomes an essential presence that they all rely upon. They are both trying to make the world a better place, even if only in the space each inhabits. Bates’ quiet commitment to the principle of “do no harm” is very Christ-like, and in keeping to that principle, Bates suffers for and at the hands of others

                As we wave our palm branches, are we seeking ways to live that make the world more whole, more nurturing, more welcoming (even for our enemies)? Though I do not think bates would describe himself as a good Christian, the way he lives offers us a compelling challenge and in many ways is very Christ-like indeed.

Lessons from Downton Abbey, Week 5

March 17, 2013

Lessons from Downton Abbey, Week 5

Matthew, the Reluctant Heir

Monotations: Inheritance

John 6:10-15

Jesus said, ‘Make the people sit down.’ Now there was a great deal of grass in the place; so they* sat down, about five thousand in all. Then Jesus took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated; so also the fish, as much as they wanted. When they were satisfied, he told his disciples, ‘Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.’ So they gathered them up, and from the fragments of the five barley loaves, left by those who had eaten, they filled twelve baskets. When the people saw the sign that he had done, they began to say, ‘This is indeed the prophet who is to come into the world.’ When Jesus realized that they were about to come and take him by force to make him king, he withdrew again to the mountain by himself.

The story of Downton Abbey begins with the tapping of a telegraph relaying the news of the sinking of the Titanic. We soon find out that the heir to the Earl of Grantham was aboard and did not survive the disaster. Because of British law at that time, none of Grantham’s daughters can inherit the title or the estate so they begin a search for the next nearest male relative. They find Matthew Crawley, a third cousin once removed. Matthew is a commoner who works for a living. To our way of seeing, as a lawyer and the son of a doctor, Matthew is already a part of high society but to the nobility he is middle class (a decidedly pejorative designation). Matthew has neither sought nor desired his elevation. When he and his mother arrive at Downton, he is determined to be unchanged by the traditions, values, and ways of the nobility.

Jesus, as best as we can read history, grew up among the poorest of the poor. The peasant class subsisted by raising crops on the land their family owned, hopefully making enough to pay their taxes and feed their household. The word we usually translate as “carpenter” in describing both Jesus and Joseph is “tekton” and it indicates a worker who has lost their land and must hire themselves out to others to earn a living. This may give us a clue as to Jesus’ love and commitment to the poor and destitute. He personally felt the weight of the oppressive systems that kept his family and others he knew in poverty. He could see the opulence that both Caesar and King Herod lived, and knew that lifestyle was supported on the backs of the poor.

However you want to read the miracle of the multiplied loaves (did bread magically appear, or did selfish people magically become generous with strangers?), the implication of story is that in the Kin-dom that Jesus teaches and demonstrates there will be more than enough food for all the people. It is the embodiment of a level field: no one has to compete to survive, no one has a place above any other.

But instead of catching the vision of a whole new system of living together, the well-fed people on the hillside begin to think, “this Jesus would make a better king than the one we have now!” Jesus has no desire to participate in a system that pits the poor against each other so that the rich can live in luxury. So when he sense that the crowd want to make him king, he flees. Still, in one form or another it seems that Christians have ben trying to make him king ever since.

As fascinating as the world of Downton Abbey is for us, the interplay between the titled class and the servants, the struggle to maintain roles in the midst of a changing society, we can ask ourselves where we are in this discussion about titles, kings, and inheritance.

Matthew was reluctant about his inheritance. It challenged his thinking about himself, his role, and his society. We may be reluctant heirs for much of our religious heritage. We have had some vigorous conversations about redefining some of our Christian traditions, practices and definitions. But what have we received from our forebears that are indeed worth carrying forward? What is valuable and helpful in our inheritance?

The original meaning of the word “tradition” is not to hold on or to keep but instead to hand on, to give away. Someone (really, many someones) handed their tradition on to us. Like Matthew, we may in fact be reluctant heirs. But Matthew accepted his role and it changed him even as he brought change to the system that endowed him. The estate that was once simply the opulent home of a distant relative grew to be something he loved and wants to insure its health and continuance. His style and values change the estate, and not without conflict but he pursues the gifts he brings to the estate because he believes it will make it healthier and longer lived.

Jesus inherited his understanding of God and world from his forebears. He was unwilling to leave the world unchanged, to mutely accept a system of oppression and isolation. He changed his inheritance and ours as he envisioned and enacted a different kind of world, one where love of the other was as importance as love of the self.

As reluctant heirs, where are we uncomfortable with our inheritance? What changes to the tradition will our values and understanding bring? And what do we see as valuable enough to hand on to somebody else?

Lessons from Downton Abbey: Following Jesus the Master/Servant

Fourth Week of Lent

March 10, 2013

Anchor: Downton Abbey

Frame: Thomas and O’Brien, betrayal and brokenness

Thread: Monotations

Matthew 26:14-16 (JB Phillips)

After this, one of the twelve, Judas Iscariot by name, approached the chief priests. “What will you give me,” he said to them, “if I hand him over to you?” They settled with him for thirty silver coins, and from then on he looked for a convenient opportunity to betray Jesus.

Judas is the quintessential Lenten drama character. He is an enigma. Was he evil and bent on destroying all that Jesus was attempting to build? Was he misguided? Was he politically motivated? Was he hoping to shove Jesus into action? Simply, we do not know why Judas did what he did. We only know what he did. I also find it intriguing that all 3 synoptic gospels agree that the ultimate sign of Judas’ betrayal was an act of love and affection: a kiss.

Thomas the footman and O’Brien the lady’s maid are two of the most easily unlikable characters on Downton Abbey. They scheme and betray their coworkers as well as the family that they serve. Again and again they act out of purely selfish motivation and sometimes just plain meanness. 

Thomas is a thief and a coward. He steals wine from the house and blames it on Bates the valet. During the World War he wrangles himself a post in the medical corps hoping that would keep him from seeing action, but when he is sent to the front lines as a medic he has himself shot in the hand so that he will get sent home. After the war he dabbles in the black market and loses what little resources he had. He wants Lord Grantham to trust him enough to make Thomas his new valet, so Thomas steals Grantham’s dog in a scheme to be seen as the triumphant hero when he almost miraculously finds the pet.

O’Brien is a bit harder to read. While her character is somewhat more complex than Thomas’, she is even less sympathetic because of it. She seems to despise her role as a maid to Lady Grantham, even though it is a position of great responsibility and respect. She takes an instant dislike to Bates the valet and humiliates him in front of the visiting Duke. She schemes with Thomas to impugn Bates and get rid of him. She belittles her coworkers and speaks with spite of her employers. She causes physical harm to Lady Grantham (albeit surreptitiously).

Thomas’ and O’Brien’s characters contrast starkly with the rest of the servant staff, who are fiercely loyal to the family they serve. In fact the whole system works on loyalty. Thomas and O’Brien’s action not only betray those whom they serve and work with, but the whole structure and order in which they live.

Betrayal and denial are maybe obvious themes for Lent. I hope we can avoid the whole conversation about how our daily betrayals (mostly trivial sins) cause baby Jesus to cry.I’m pretty sure very few of us see ourselves as a Thomas or O’Brien, much less a Judas or Peter. Yet many of us have felt betrayed by those we love, injured deliberately or inadvertently but injured nonetheless. And more than a few of us have acted with the best of intentions and still hurt others. There are obvious betrayals such as allowing our nation to ignore the plight of the poor and hungry while we find the means to increase the stores of war and power.

I am all too aware of my desire to answer the question of betrayal by quoting other things that Jesus taught, like loving your enemy and turning the other cheek. I am also aware that when I am hot with anger at the injury someone has caused me, those answers ring hollow and snarky. There is a great chasm between the “do this” and the “how the hell do you do that?” 

We all betray the best dreams of ourselves, we get distracted from lofty ideals by the mundane duties of everyday life. We want to be daring Christians - daring progressive Christians, no doubt - but all too many times it is easier just to go along than to cause a scene.

So when we are confronted by a Thomas or an O’Brien, a Judas or a Peter, in someone else or inside our own selves, how do we respond? How do we follow this almost super-human Jesus who does seem able to love even his betrayers. Did Jesus kiss Judas back?

A good friend of mine was a clergy woman who had risen above the sexual abuse inflicted upon her by her pastor when she was a youth. At a state-wide gathering she and I were heading into the main hall to attend a service of Holy Communion. She stopped at the threshold of the entryway. Standing at the head of the main aisle, holding the communion bread, was her abuser. She said, “I can’t do this. I can’t receive grace from him.” She turned and left, and I couldn’t blame her. She felt betrayed both by the man holding the bread and by the system of the Church which never held him accountable for his crimes.

Statistics vary but most say that somewhere between 1/5 and 1/3 of all women have suffered sexual abuse or violence. That means that if 50 women come to SCUCC on a Sunday morning (just an arbitrary number), 10 to 20 of them may have been victims of abuse or violence. It also means that probably every one of us knows someone who has been a victim.

So while betrayal may be a stereotypical topic for Lent, the question of how do we heal and move on from betrayal is anything but trite. How do we help each other heal? How do we live in the world and transform the world so that there is less violence, less propensity for abuse and betrayal?