April 6, 2019

Saturday after the Fourth Sunday in Lent

But they all cried out together, “Away with this man, and release to us Barabbas”—a man who had been thrown into prison for an insurrection started in the city, and for murder. Pilate addressed them once more, desiring to release Jesus; but they shouted out, “Crucify, crucify him!” Luke 23:18-21

The opposition and rejection that Jesus engendered in the synagogue in Nazareth that led to the people driving him out of town and taking him to the edge of the hill to hurl him from it has now come to its inevitable and final expression in this crowd in Jerusalem. Willing to exchange the Son of God, for Barabbas, a man imprisoned for murder and insurrection, the crowd now shouts out for Jesus to be crucified. We join in shouting for Christ’s crucifixion also, explicitly as we play that part in the Passion reading and, again, explicitly and implicitly, in our rejection of Christ as the Son of God. We feel intensely the weight of the responsibility for all men’s sins to the point of shame and self-disgust. During the Palm Sunday reading, it is difficult to lift one’s head and look another in the eye after shouting these words of anger, fear, hatred and denunciation. Continue reading April 6, 2019

March 21, 2019

Thursday after the Second Sunday in Lent

While he was still speaking, suddenly a crowd came, and the one called Judas, one of the twelve, was leading them. He approached Jesus to kiss him; but Jesus said to him, “Judas, is it with a kiss that you are betraying the Son of Man?” Luke 22: 47-48

What a stunning observation and judgment from our Lord—the kiss, love’s symbol of affection and intimacy, twisted into betrayal. This kiss marks the moment of Judas’s spiral into his self-made ending, his descent into the horrors of his remorse and suicide. There must be no sweetening up of Judas’s legacy as the Gnostic Gospel of Judas wishes to do. No! Evil is evil. If there were ever an unforgivable sin against the Holy Spirit, this infamous kiss might qualify.

And—not “but” or “nevertheless”— and Jesus died for the sins of the whole world, yes for Judas’s kiss, for my kisses of betrayal. Continue reading March 21, 2019

March 18, 2018

The Fifth Sunday in Lent

Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus.” Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, “An angel has spoken to him.” Jesus answered, “This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. Now is the judgment of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.” He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die. John 12:20-33

 

In this Johannine passage we meet a Jesus who is seemingly full of bravado as he faces his Passion and death. “Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name!” It is interesting that it is only in John that we find this “troubled” but seemingly unfrightened Jesus moving steadfastly forward. It is also interesting that John gamely jumps from the Last Supper with only a mention of Gethsemane in the context of his arrest. “On the other side [of the Kidron Valley] there was a garden and he and his disciples went into it.”

In contrast, the Synoptic Gospels present a different picture. Jesus and the disciples go to the garden to pray, and it is a much more human, frightened Jesus that we meet. In Matthew 26:37-38, Jesus takes some of the disciples and “…he began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then he said to them, ‘My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.” In Mark 14:33 we are told that Jesus is “deeply distressed and troubled,” and in Luke 22:42,44 Jesus knelt and prayed, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will but yours be done…And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground.”

It is this Jesus to whom I can truly relate, especially during the Lenten season. I have what most would call a “tacky” picture of Jesus in Gethsemane, one which most of you have probably seen. It shows Jesus kneeling at a rock in a flowing purple robe, his anguished face looking up, and a ray of golden light shining on him. This picture is my touchstone, the Jesus who understands my sin, my fear, my alienation as I too move inexorably to the grave.

On Ash Wednesday we read Psalm 51: “I know my transgressions,/and my sin is ever before me.” As this psalm washes over us, there is a duality of fear and comfort emanating from it: “Hide not your face from my sins” and “Cast me not away from your presence” contrasted with “Wash me through and through from my wickedness/and cleanse me from my sin” and “Create in me a clean heart, O God”.

This is Lent – a time of recognizing our estrangement from God mixed with our realization that God wants us to be reconciled to himself. Lent calls us to a self-examination which can be brutal, but with the knowledge that God will look on us with his “loving-kindness” and “in (his) great compassion (will) blot out my offenses.”

 

The Rev. Frank Wallner
Saint John’s, Lower Merion

March 16, 2018

Friday after the Fourth Sunday in Lent

Then Pilate said unto them, Why, what evil hath he done? And they cried out the more exceedingly, Crucify him. And so Pilate, willing to content the people, released Barabbas unto them, and delivered Jesus, when he had scourged him, to be crucified. Mark 15:14-15

 

In a previous meditation on our Lord’s institution of the Sacrament of His Body and Blood, I recalled George Herbert’s poem “The Agony,” a mediation at once upon our Savior’s crucifixion and of the rite that recalls the same:

Philosophers have measured mountains,
Fathom’d the depths of seas, of states, and kings,
Walk’d with a staff to heaven, and traced fountains
But there are two vast, spacious things,
The which to measure it doth more behove:
Yet few there are that sound them; Sin and Love.

Who would know Sin, let him repair
Unto Mount Olivet; there shall he see
A man, so wrung with pains, that all his hair,
His skin, his garments, bloody be.
Sin is that Press and Vice, which forceth pain
To hunt his cruel food through every vein.
Who knows not Love, let him assay,
And taste that juice, which on the cross a pike
Did set again abroach; then let him say
If ever he did taste the like.
Love is that liquor sweet and most divine,
Which my God feels as blood; but I, as wine

Throughout these forty days, the Holy Spirit mends our confused minds in manifold means of grace: Meditation on Scripture, prayer, self-denial and deeds of mercy are chief among them. Through them we see afresh the truth of our own sinful predilections, the Father’s infinite mercy, and the Son’s perfect obedience. And we learn, as it were, ‘our place.’ We learn that we are creatures, the product of God’s love. And we learn anew that His commandments, like his creation are good, that they constitute our good and form the basis of the miraculous life in us, chiefly witnessed in our reception of Christ’s Body and Blood in the Sacrament of the New Covenant. It is a profound truth of Lent traditionally observed that the farther we travel its pilgrim way, the clearer the truth of our sin and God’s love become. The increasing intensity of Passiontide, Holy Week, the three days of the Triduum Sacrum, and finally Good Friday itself, are like curtains being drawn in a pageant of revelation, one discomfiting truth preparing us for the next. The institution of the Sacrament of Holy Communion on Maundy Thursday, the night of love’s betrayal, is the constant, sacred reminder that Christ, who is at once all God and all human, has made the instrument of shameful death to be the throne of His glory. On the Cross we see His blood shed and His Body broken, we see our sin in all its terrible consequence: We would not simply be as gods, we would kill the very God who made us. And yet, as the sacrament reminds us, what seems bread and wine to us is at once His Blood outpoured and His Body broken: it is His love for us accomplished not simply despite our sin, but through our sin. The distance between our sin and God’s love would seem infinite (‘spacious’ as Herbert would put it), and yet the two are one in a mystery at once beyond our telling and perfectly believable.
It is believable because it is God alone that make everything out of nothing, who gave us this something made out of nothing. And despite our vain attempts to bring the ‘less than something’ of sin and lies into God’s good order, He has taken that “less than something” on the Cross and given to us more than even we had at that beginning. For we have more than the goodness of Eden wherein we were first placed, we have the greater goodness, the “more than something” of an eternal relationship with God the Father, God the Son and God the Holy Spirit in eternity. That is the miracle we recall in these words of institution: That we sinners have been invited to drink this wine with our Savior in the Kingdom of God.

 

The Rev. Edward Rix
All Saints, Wynnewood

March 15, 2018

Thursday after the Fourth Sunday in Lent

Pilate spoke to them again, ‘Then what do you wish me to do with the man you call the King of the Jews?’ They shouted back, ‘Crucify him!’   Mark 15:12-13

 

Shouts of ‘Crucify him!’ coming from the crowd that was, only shortly before, hailing Jesus as a king, demonstrate how quickly we can be swayed. The values we hold as individuals can often be suppressed and supplanted by the loud cries of the crowd. We may fool ourselves into thinking we are above such peer pressure, but how often do we pause when writing a sermon because we start to think about who it might offend? How often have we heard or supplanted Jesus’ message of justice to one of mere charity because it fits more neatly and comfortably with our lifestyle? Lent allows us time to reflect on those “sins of omission” when we find ourselves looking more like the crowd than disciples of Jesus and we fail to act although we know better.

 


Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We are truly sorry and we humbly repent. For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ, have mercy on us and forgive us; that we may delight in your will, and walk in your ways, to the glory of your Name. Amen.

 

The Rev. Michael Giansiracusa
Saint Mary’s, Ardmore