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| "Still Life Xmas Card" by Derek Finch, on Flickr |
Reading for the day: John 12:20-36
from We Would See Jesus
by Ann Weems
That it had to come to this!
That Jesus had to die
in order for us to live!
Just as wheat dies to the earth
and later bears much fruit,
Jesus had to die to the world
that he could live again
for all of us
that we through him could live.
I had a plant that died one winter.
Because of the ice-covered earth,
I put the plant in the garage,
thinking I would throw it away
when the ice thawed,
wash out the pot, and replant.
When spring came, I went to
the darkness of the garage
and there in the pot
the plant boomed green.
Resurrection in my face.
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| "feet" by Kevin K, on Flickr |
Reading for the day: John 12:1-11
My Silence is the Lord
by Brother Paul Quenon
My silence is the Lord,
I listen, his silence speaks at all times.
When I listen not, my hearing is filled with words
and my tongue takes to rambling.
My resting place is the Lord
a hideaway on a mountain height.
The lonely seek and find him.
My resting place is the Lord,
a low valley by the runlet.
All humble steps lead there.
"Turn in to my place and sit quietly.
Drink from my stream and my vintage.
Cast off your shoes, discard your hardships
and listen to my evening song:
"I seek a heart that is simple.
With the peaceful I spread my tent.
I will wash your feet and dry them,
my silence will be their perfume.
"In your quiet steps I will follow.
None will know whence we come and where we go.
To the world you will be my silence,
in your passing they will hear me.
"In your absence I will be present.
Though you die, I Who Live am yours -
I live as yours forever."
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| "Palm" by brooklin, on Flickr |
Luke 19:28-40
After he had said this, [Jesus] went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem.
When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples, saying, “Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it.’ ” So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them. As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?” They said, “The Lord needs it.” Then they brought it to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it. As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying,
“Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!
Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!”
Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.”
--
Friends, here we are, again, at the beginning of the end. Palm Sunday, our entry into Holy Week, the first movement of a long and difficult story that leads to death, and then to resurrection.
Palm Sunday is the beginning, which makes it a bit of a challenge to preach, because every sermon seems unfinished. Jesus has come to the city, but for what? We don’t actually hear the most important parts of the story until later in the week.
This year, as I kept pouring over the story of Jesus entering Jerusalem, I found myself thinking most deeply about the disciples, and about how joyful and confident they are in their faith today, and I started thinking about how their faith will crumbles as Jesus gets closer and closer to the cross.
Did you notice, when we read from Luke’s gospel today, that unlike the other gospel writers, he doesn’t say anything about palm branches? And the word “hosanna” doesn’t show up? And there aren’t huge crowds of people and children. In Luke’s gospel, Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem is heralded only by the disciples (who are doing their best to make some noise) and the Pharisees (who are trying to hush them up).
Jesus comes down the path, and it is the disciples, the faithful ones, who can't hide their excitement about Christ their king, who is is Son of God, Ruler of the Universe, teacher, healer, redeemer. In this moment, they aren't ashamed of who they are or what they believe.
They "praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen" and they shout, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” It's a reprise of the song of the angels at Jesus' birth
Right now, on the hillside, with nobody but a few religious authorities to see them, they don't care that they are making a ruckus, they aren't worried that their shouting might offend the empire. When the authorities rebuke Jesus for this unsightly and unsanctioned demonstration, he says that if the disciples weren’t shouting, the very stones along the path would be crying out.
The stones and the disciples alike trust that Jesus is the one who brings cosmic love, forgiveness, redemption, salvation, peace, and grace to the deepest longings and groaning of the universe. I have no doubt that the disciples were sincere and earnest as they cheered alongside the road. They have noble and grand intentions.
But things are about to get unsafe. And difficult. And real.
There will be an awkward washing of feet and a last family meal. There will be an armed cohort rushing them in the garden, and a kiss of betrayal, and all of the sudden, the obnoxious but neutral Roman occupation will start to feel threatening, and Jesus will be treated as a common criminal, and all of the sudden, all of the beautiful, idealistic visions of Jesus's promised kingdom will seem less immediate and less important than keeping a low profile to save their own skins.
Do I think that the disciples intended to desert Jesus in the garden? Do I think that Judas, when he first started following Jesus, intended to become cynical and greedy and bent toward betrayal? Do I think that Peter intended to deny Jesus around the fire? Do I think that the disciples, looking post-resurrection, intended to be so afraid that they would lock themselves away in an upper room?
I don't think the disciples intended any of this.
They followed Jesus as far as they did because they believed in his vision of an upside-down kingdom. Every miracle that he did, every person he healed, every parable he taught revealed to them a beautiful world of hope and healing, running counter to politics and power as usual.
But maybe they hoped that Jesus was exaggerating when he said that this kingdom could only come through suffering and his death. And when things start to look dangerous and bleak for Jesus, and for the disciples by association, their fears start to overcome their faith. Giving into the anonymity off the masses starts to sound appealing. Staying silent seems more prudent than crying out.
As I've been preparing for Holy Week this year, I've started to latch on to the absurdity off this holy story at the very heart of our faith. That we need Jesus to be a servant, to give his body for us, to give up his pride and his life on the cross. That somehow death and resurrection bring salvation. It is a crazy-hard sell.
So I guess what I’m saying is that on days then the stakes aren’t so high, I’m right there with the cheering disciples who praise Jesus as king. And I am great at talking a big game about how Christ’s suffering redeems our suffering…when there is nothing in particular riding on those words. And sure, I can stand up here and preach inside the safety of the sanctuary that Jesus is Lord.
But ask me the last time I started a conversation about the saving grace of the suffering Christ with an acquaintance down at Java John's. Ask me if I always have the courage to believe that God really is suffering along side me when I am feeling lonely as I grieve for myself or for the world. Or ask me the last time that I shamelessly stood up for the plight of the poor, the oppressed, the hungry, the homeless, the immigrant, the refugee, the outcast or the outlaw...without either first putting a disclaimer on my words, or following up my words with an apology.
I totally understand the reluctance of the disciples to keep up their cheering as the pathway led closer and closer to the cross. Sometimes, when the stakes get high, it seems far more practical and neutral to stay quiet, lest you offend anybody, and to stay hidden, lest you accidentally admit to yourself or others that maybe you don't have your faith all figured out.
This is exactly why we can’t skip from Palm Sunday to Easter.
I mean, if life were all Palm Sundays and Easter mornings, then faith would be only confident hosannas and joyous alleluias. And we’d send out the message that being a person of faith means that you always get it right, and you always live up to your end of the baptismal covenant, and that nothing bad happens and nothing ever scares you and somehow faith means that death or despair aren’t real.
Except that today we laud a king who is marching into Jerusalem not to pretend that everything is perfect, but to take on every fear, every doubt, every frailty. Jesus did exactly what we could never do. He took the difficult, awkward, painful, shameful, weak stuff in our hearts and in our world, and instead of bringing shame or judgement, he brought redemption and resurrection.
It is how salvation is meant to work.
God shows up in fragile places: in a helpless baby, in a mortal human form, in an outcast, a suffering servant, one who washes feet and touches lepers and reinterprets himself as the Passover lamb, one who is mocked, tripped, unjustly accused, hungry, thirsty, bleeding, dying.
It is the cross that exposes God. It is the cross that exposes us. It leaves nothing hidden and, more importantly, it leaves nothing unredeemed.
What a crazy story our faith is. That the God of everything would be brought to nothing so that all of your own weak and worried parts would be brought to new life. So that all of the dark shadows of this world might not win the day. So that the hidden things might be uncovered, and all might be brought to light. Your fear and your shame, our brokenness and our ailing creation. All of it revealed. All of it redeemed. All of it saved.
So maybe….maybe we give a little grace to the disciples this week. And maybe we give a little grace to ourselves. It is okay if we don’t have it all together this week, because honestly, the whole story of our faith is about to come unhinged. It’s going to get scary and painful and confusing.
So if you get squicked out on Maundy Thursday at the thought of someone washing your feet, it’s ok.
If you get angry at Judas for betraying Jesus and if you get angry at Peter for denying Jesus, it’s okay.
If you cry on Good Friday when Jesus dies, it’s okay.
And if you spend Holy Saturday in a fog, because you really aren’t exactly sure what happens in the waiting space between death and resurrection, it’s okay.
If you have grand intentions in faith, but get scared, it’s okay.
If you love Jesus but don’t have it all together, it’s okay.
The disciples didn’t have it all together, either.
And yet…Jesus died to save them anyway.
And he died to save you too.
Amen.
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| "Color" by Thomas Wiborg, on Flickr |
Common Dust
by Georgia Douglas Johnson
And who shall separate the dust
What later we shall be:
Whose keen discerning eye will scan
And solve the mystery?
The high, the low, the rich, the poor,
The black, the white, the red,
And all the chromatique between,
Of whom shall it be said:
Here lies the dust of Africa;
Here are the sons of Rome;
Here lies the one unlabelled,
The world at large his home!
Can one then separate the dust?
Will mankind lie apart,
When life has settled back again
The same as from the start?
So Joseph took the body and wrapped it in a clean linen cloth
and laid it in his own new tomb, which he had hewn in the rock.
He then rolled a great stone to the door of the tomb and went away.
-- Matthew 27:59-60
and laid it in his own new tomb, which he had hewn in the rock.
He then rolled a great stone to the door of the tomb and went away.
-- Matthew 27:59-60
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| "Holy Saturday" by elizabethgrayking, on Flickr |
Limbo
by Sister Mary Ada
The ancient greyness shifted suddenly and thinned like mist upon the moors before a wind.
An old, old prophet lifted a shining face and said:
“He will be coming soon. The Son of God is dead; He died this afternoon.”
A murmurous excitement stirred all souls. They wondered if they dreamed
save one old man who seemed not even to have heard.
And Moses, standing, hushed them all to ask if any had a welcome song prepared.
If not, would David take the task?
And if they cared could not the three young children sing the Benedicite,
the canticle of praise they made when God kept them from perishing in the fiery blaze?
A breath of spring surprised them, stilling Moses’ words.
No one could speak, remembering the first fresh flowers, the little singing birds.
Still others thought of fields new ploughed or apple trees all blossom-boughed.
Or some, the way a dried bed fills with water laughing down green hills.
The fisherfolk dreamed of the foam on bright blue seas.
The one old man who had not stirred remembered home.
And there He was, splendid as the morning sun and fair as only God is fair.
And they, confused with joy, knelt to adore
Seeing that He wore five crimson stars He never had before.
No canticle at all was sung. None toned a psalm, or raised a greeting song,
A silent man alone of all that throng found tongue — not any other.
Close to His heart when the embrace was done, old Joseph said,
“How is Your Mother, How is Your Mother, Son?”
by Sister Mary Ada
The ancient greyness shifted suddenly and thinned like mist upon the moors before a wind.
An old, old prophet lifted a shining face and said:
“He will be coming soon. The Son of God is dead; He died this afternoon.”
A murmurous excitement stirred all souls. They wondered if they dreamed
save one old man who seemed not even to have heard.
And Moses, standing, hushed them all to ask if any had a welcome song prepared.
If not, would David take the task?
And if they cared could not the three young children sing the Benedicite,
the canticle of praise they made when God kept them from perishing in the fiery blaze?
A breath of spring surprised them, stilling Moses’ words.
No one could speak, remembering the first fresh flowers, the little singing birds.
Still others thought of fields new ploughed or apple trees all blossom-boughed.
Or some, the way a dried bed fills with water laughing down green hills.
The fisherfolk dreamed of the foam on bright blue seas.
The one old man who had not stirred remembered home.
And there He was, splendid as the morning sun and fair as only God is fair.
And they, confused with joy, knelt to adore
Seeing that He wore five crimson stars He never had before.
No canticle at all was sung. None toned a psalm, or raised a greeting song,
A silent man alone of all that throng found tongue — not any other.
Close to His heart when the embrace was done, old Joseph said,
“How is Your Mother, How is Your Mother, Son?”
When Jesus had received the wine, he said, "It is finished."
Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.
-- John 19:30
Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.
-- John 19:30
"Good Friday 2007" by Stephen B Whatley, on Flickr
The Crucifixion
At the cry of the first bird
They began to crucify Thee, 0 Swan!
Never shall lament cease because of that.
It was like the parting of day from night.
Ah, sore was the suffering borne By the body of Mary's Son,
But sorer still to Him was the grief
Which for His sake Came upon His Mother.
The Crucifixion
At the cry of the first bird
They began to crucify Thee, 0 Swan!
Never shall lament cease because of that.
It was like the parting of day from night.
Ah, sore was the suffering borne By the body of Mary's Son,
But sorer still to Him was the grief
Which for His sake Came upon His Mother.
After he received the piece of bread, Satan entered into [Judas].
Jesus said to him, "Do quickly what you are going to do."
-- John 13:27
Jesus said to him, "Do quickly what you are going to do."
-- John 13:27
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| "Visible Judas" by Nicholas Damario, on Flickr |
Judas, Peter
by Luci Shaw
because we are all
betrayers, taking
silver and eating
body and blood and asking
(guilty) is it I and hearing
him say yes
it would be simple for us all
to rush out
and hang ourselves
but if we find grace
to cry and wait
after the voice of morning
has crowed in our ears
clearly enough
to break our hearts
he will be there
to ask us each again
do you love me
(from A Widening Light: Poems of the Incarnation, 2000)
by Luci Shaw
because we are all
betrayers, taking
silver and eating
body and blood and asking
(guilty) is it I and hearing
him say yes
it would be simple for us all
to rush out
and hang ourselves
but if we find grace
to cry and wait
after the voice of morning
has crowed in our ears
clearly enough
to break our hearts
he will be there
to ask us each again
do you love me
(from A Widening Light: Poems of the Incarnation, 2000)
"Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard,
anointed Jesus' feet, and wiped them with her hair."
-- John 12:3
anointed Jesus' feet, and wiped them with her hair."
-- John 12:3
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| "Anointing His Feet #2," 2008 by Wayne Forte |
Multum Dilexit
by Hartley Coleridge
She sat and wept beside His feet; the weight
Of sin oppress’d her heart; for all the blame,
And the poor malice of the worldly shame,
To her was past, extinct, and out of date:
Only the sin remain’d,—the leprous state;
She would be melted by the heat of love,
By fires far fiercer than are blown to prove
And purge the silver are adulterate.
She sat and wept, and with her untress’d hair
Still wip’d the feet she was so bless’d to touch;
And He wip’d off the soiling of despair
From her sweet soul, because she lov’d so much.
I am a sinner, full of doubts and fears:
Make me a humble thing of love and tears.
by Hartley Coleridge
She sat and wept beside His feet; the weight
Of sin oppress’d her heart; for all the blame,
And the poor malice of the worldly shame,
To her was past, extinct, and out of date:
Only the sin remain’d,—the leprous state;
She would be melted by the heat of love,
By fires far fiercer than are blown to prove
And purge the silver are adulterate.
She sat and wept, and with her untress’d hair
Still wip’d the feet she was so bless’d to touch;
And He wip’d off the soiling of despair
From her sweet soul, because she lov’d so much.
I am a sinner, full of doubts and fears:
Make me a humble thing of love and tears.
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| "Dulverton - Saint Stanislaus - Palm Sunday Painting" by david cronin, on Flickr |
Mark 11:1-11
When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, [Jesus] sent two of his disciples and said to them, “Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. If anyone says to you, ‘Why are you doing this?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it and will send it back here immediately.’ ” They went away and found a colt tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, some of the bystanders said to them, “What are you doing, untying the colt?” They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it. Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting,
“Hosanna!
Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!
Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David!
Hosanna in the highest heaven!”
Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.
---
At the Minnesota State Fair,
walking through the livestock barns,
we came eye to eye with the tallest horse we’d ever seen.
His back, as tall as the top of my head;
his eyes, the size of oranges,
long-lashed and omniscient.
His head, towering above and
his mane, trailing down the slope of his neck.
Strong-stepped and graceful,
terrifying and gentle,
fully creature and yet otherworldly.
Next to his giant hooves, we were
but ants
or rodents.
The usual categories of “big” or “small”
seemed too narrow to contain
the height and weight and depth and length
of such a beast.
To ride such a creature would be to lord over all creation below.
Speed, height, strength, divinity, all conveyed
by the outline of a giant gentle beast.
But it was not upon this massive steed that Christ rode into the city.
It was not upon a Clydesdale, nor a racehorse, nor a wild horse from Chincoteague.
It was upon a mockery of a horse that this Savior came to town
(himself to be mocked).
He rode in on donkey.
On a colt, the foal of a donkey.
Humble beast of humble beasts,
low to the ground, pot-bellied,
like a zebra without its stripes.
Barely enough room for one man to ride,
slow-stepping, stubborn, clumsy,
a loyal but low down beast of burden.
Upon this ordinary creature,
an extraordinary Savior
crept in the back door of the city.
Pilate, doing political duty,
marched in the front gate
making an appearance (as politicians do).
The Passover festival meant a city
crowded with constituents.
His procession was
the hand of Rome marching to the heart
of Jewish celebration and identity;
He was a governor, lord over an occupied people,
marching in to celebrate with them
the ancient circumstances
of their liberation.
Through the front gate,
the noble procession of the Roman governor,
whose fanfares and banners and stewards preceded him,
who waved to a wide road
flooded with tourists and travelers and subjects.
Jesus entered the city from the other side.
Concerning Jerusalem,
Jesus did not hold the keys to the kingdom.
Concerning his entrance into Jerusalem,
there were no banners raised, no trumpets sounding,
just the cloud of faithful witnesses,
turning their garments into a fervent, pathetic red carpet,
decorating the path not with streamers and ribbons,
but tree branches plucked from the side of the road.
Who is this king of Glory?
The Lord, strong and mighty?
Is it this one, who totters in on a donkey’s child,
along a back road littered with leaves and muddy overcoats?
Hosanna! Blessing! -
to the one who comes in the name of the Lord,
who does not exploit the name of the Lord,
nor the fame of Pilate,
but turns his face toward Jerusalem,
setting his course,
riding in
knowing that he will not ride out
until his resurrected body will
ride up on the clouds.
Hosanna! Blessing! -
to the one who takes the back roads
into the back gates of
the holy city
but who does not turn backward
from his terrible destiny.
Palm Sunday is a story for
all those who sneak in the back door,
who arrive late,
who leave early,
so that no one will catch their gaze
or notice them
or judge them.
It is a story
for those who hang back
because of
fear shame vulnerability
grief anxiety secrets
doubts humility—humiliation.
Ride on,
ride on in majesty, king Jesus,
through the back streets,
through the back pews,
through the back doors,
ride on in pomp
to suffer
to die
to take on the depth
of our shadows and our tears.
Palm Sunday Jesus
took on flesh to save us in the flesh;
took on life to give us life;
took on the prick of pain and sting of death
to poke fun at the powers of
sins, devils, deaths…
and to trample them underfoot,
like broken palm branches marched over
by hoof and foot alike.
Hosanna! Blessing! -
if we were not shouting,
the very stones would cry out,
for the King of kings and Lord of lords
has come near,
has come here,
to fling wide the gates,
to be our courage,
to return our dignity,
to restore our lives,
to lead us from the back gates
to the pearly gates.
Hosanna! Blessing! -
to the Christ who comes in the name of the Lord.
He enters the city.
His face is set like flint
For this city,
the Jerusalem for whom Jesus wept,
is his destiny.
It is not his kingdom,
it is not his destination,
it is not his glory.
It is his self-emptying.
It is his demise.
It is his end.
And it is our beginning.
Hosanna.
Blessed is the one who comes
in the name of the Lord.
Hosanna.
Reading for the Day: John 20:1–18
Early on the first day of the week,
while it was still dark,
Mary Magdalene came to the tomb
and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb.
Early on the first day of the week,
while it was still dark,
Mary Magdalene came to the tomb
and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb.
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| "Pebble balancing..." by Giulia Torra, on Flickr |
---
Mary Magdalene, Remembering:
by Madeleine L'Engle
All time is holy.
We move through the dark
following his footprints by touch.
He walked the lonesome valley.
His time is holy.
We will break bread together.
We will move through the dark.
He has gone away from us.
The wine is poured out.
We will eat broken bread.
That Friday was good.
We will move through the dark.
Death died on Friday.
The blood-stained cross bore hope.
His Friday is good.
We will hold hands
as we move through the dark.
Saturday he walked through hell,
making all things new.
We will hold hands.
This is the meaning
of our walk through the dark.
Love’s light will lead us
through the stone at the tomb.
He is the meaning.
He called me by name
as I stood in the dark.
Suddenly I knew him.
He came. Then he left us,
he will come again.
Reading for the Day: John 18:1-19:42
When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, "Woman, here is your son." Then he said to the disciple, "Here is your mother."
When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, "Woman, here is your son." Then he said to the disciple, "Here is your mother."
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| "#crucifix" by p7taylor, on Flickr |
---
Crucifixion
by Anna Akhmatova
"Weep not for Me, Mother,
in the grave I have life."
I.
The choir of angels glorified the great hour,
the heavens melted in flames.
He said to His Father: "Why hast Thou forsaken me?"
and to His Mother: "Oh, weep not for Me..."
II.
Mary Magdalene smote her breast and wept,
the disciple whom He loved turned to stone,
but where the Mother stood in silence
nobody even dared look.
Reading for the Day: John 13:1–17, 31b–35
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.
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.
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| "Painted Woman Feet With Henna, Lamu, Kenya" by Eric Lafforgue, on Flickr |
---
My Grandmother Washes Her Feet in the Sink of the Bathroom at Sears
by Mohja Kahf
My grandmother puts her feet in the sink
of the bathroom at Sears
to wash them in the ritual washing for prayer,
wudu,
because she has to pray in the store or miss
the mandatory prayer time for Muslims
She does it with great poise, balancing
herself with one plump matronly arm
against the automated hot-air hand dryer,
after having removed her support knee-highs
and laid them aside, folded in thirds,
and given me her purse and her packages to hold
so she can accomplish this august ritual
and get back to the ritual of shopping for housewares
Respectable Sears matrons shake their heads and frown
as they notice what my grandmother is doing,
an affront to American porcelain,
a contamination of American Standards
by something foreign and unhygienic
requiring civic action and possible use of disinfectant spray
They fluster about and flutter their hands and I can see
a clash of civilizations brewing in the Sears bathroom
My grandmother, though she speaks no English,
catches their meaning and her look in the mirror says,
I have washed my feet over Iznik tile in Istanbul
with water from the world's ancient irrigation systems
I have washed my feet in the bathhouses of Damascus
over painted bowls imported from China
among the best families of Aleppo
And if you Americans knew anything
about civilization and cleanliness,
you'd make wider washbins, anyway
My grandmother knows one culture—the right one,
as do these matrons of the Middle West. For them,
my grandmother might as well have been squatting
in the mud over a rusty tin in vaguely tropical squalor,
Mexican or Middle Eastern, it doesn't matter which,
when she lifts her well-groomed foot and puts it over the edge.
"You can't do that," one of the women protests,
turning to me, "Tell her she can't do that."
"We wash our feet five times a day,"
my grandmother declares hotly in Arabic.
"My feet are cleaner than their sink.
Worried about their sink, are they? I
should worry about my feet!"
My grandmother nudges me, "Go on, tell them."
Standing between the door and the mirror, I can see
at multiple angles, my grandmother and the other shoppers,
all of them decent and goodhearted women, diligent
in cleanliness, grooming, and decorum
Even now my grandmother, not to be rushed,
is delicately drying her pumps with tissues from her purse
For my grandmother always wears well-turned pumps
that match her purse, I think in case someone
from one of the best families of Aleppo
should run into her—here, in front of the Kenmore display
I smile at the midwestern women
as if my grandmother has just said something lovely about them
and shrug at my grandmother as if they
had just apologized through me
No one is fooled, but I
hold the door open for everyone
and we all emerge on the sales floor
and lose ourselves in the great common ground
of housewares on markdown.
Reading for the Day: John 13:21-32
Jesus was troubled in spirit, and declared,
"Very truly, I tell you, one of you will betray me...
It is the one to whom I give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish."
Jesus was troubled in spirit, and declared,
"Very truly, I tell you, one of you will betray me...
It is the one to whom I give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish."
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| "About to gorge on some homemade bread dip before supper!" by Sarah S, on Flickr |
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The Cat at the Last Supper
by Roy Marz
Ghirlandaio let it sit
On the tiles between Judas and Jude,
Brindle and Iscariot's pet,
Bored with John's stricken stutter
And Andrew's fist aghast in the cherries
And Simon's trouble with the pewter.
Though the peacock's lucent pale blue
Spill of tail from the windowsill
Interested as a nuisance value,
Really the carbon irises
Kindled for birds through the open lunette
Or delicacies in the cypresses;
And whiskers rigid for rare spoil
Flicked hauteur at the broken bread
The taut master dropped on the tile...
Needles of shock on the brindle marble
Were affront. It primly mewed
Blood back in the paralyzed table,
And negatives in the nervous beards
Jangled the peacock metred to silence
But tocsined the giddy outside birds.
Reading for the Day: John 12:20-36
"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."
"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."
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| "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" by Aaron Klinefelter, on Flickr |
---
In Harvest
by Sophie Jewett
Mown meadows skirt the standing wheat;
I linger, for the hay is sweet,
New-cut and curing in the sun.
Like furrows, straight, the windrows run,
Fallen, gallant ranks that tossed and bent
When, yesterday, the west wind went
A-rioting through grass and grain.
To-day no least breath stirs the plain;
Only the hot air, quivering, yields
Illusive motion to the fields
Where not the slenderest tassel swings.
Across the wheat flash sky-blue wings;
A goldfinch dangles from a tall,
Full-flowered yellow mullein; all
The world seems turning blue and gold.
Unstartled, since, even from of old,
Beauty has brought keen sense of her,
I feel the withering grasses stir;
Along the edges of the wheat,
I hear the rustle of her feet:
And yet I know the whole sea lies,
And half the earth, between our eyes.
Reading for the Day: John 12:1-8
"Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard,
anointed Jesus' feet, and wiped them with her hair."
"Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard,
anointed Jesus' feet, and wiped them with her hair."
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| "And now for something completely unPuerto Rican" by Jodie Dobson, on Flickr |
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Multum Dilexit
by Hartley Coleridge
She sat and wept beside His feet; the weight
Of sin oppress’d her heart; for all the blame,
And the poor malice of the worldly shame,
To her was past, extinct, and out of date:
Only the sin remain’d,—the leprous state;
She would be melted by the heat of love,
By fires far fiercer than are blown to prove
And purge the silver are adulterate.
She sat and wept, and with her untress’d hair
Still wip’d the feet she was so bless’d to touch;
And He wip’d off the soiling of despair
From her sweet soul, because she lov’d so much.
I am a sinner, full of doubts and fears:
Make me a humble thing of love and tears.
Reading for the Day: Matthew 21:1-11
"Tell the daughter of Zion,
'Look, your king is coming to you,
humble, and mounted on a donkey,
and on a colt, the foal of a donkey.'"
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| "The Triumphal Entry" by Calvin Sun, on Flickr |
Coming to the City Nearest You
by Carol Penner
Jesus comes to Jerusalem, the city nearest you.
Jesus comes to the gate, to the synagogue,
to houses prepared for wedding parties,
to the pools where people wait to be healed,
to the temple where lambs are sold,
to gardens, beautiful in the moonlight.
He comes to the governor’s palace.
Jesus comes to Jerusalem, the city nearest you,
to new subdivisions and trailer parks,
to penthouses and basement apartments,
to the factory, the hospital and the Cineplex,
to the big box outlet centre and to churches,
with the same old same old message,
unchanged from the beginning of time.
Jesus comes to Jerusalem, the city nearest you
with his Good News and…
Hope erupts! Joy springs forth!
The very stones cry out,
“Hosanna in the highest,
blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!”
The crowds jostle and push,
they can’t get close enough!
People running alongside flinging down their coats before him!
Jesus, the parade marshal, waving, smiling.
The paparazzi elbow for room,
looking for that perfect picture for the headline,
“The Man Who Would Be King”.
Jesus comes to Jerusalem, the city nearest you
and gets the red carpet treatment.
Children waving real palm branches from the florist,
silk palm branches from Wal-mart,
palms made from green construction paper.
Hosannas ringing in churches, chapels, cathedrals,
in monasteries, basilicas and tent-meetings.
King Jesus, honored in a thousand hymns
in Canada, Cameroon, Calcutta and Canberra.
We LOVE this great big powerful capital K King Jesus
coming in glory and splendor and majesty
and awe and power and might.
Jesus comes to Jerusalem, the city nearest you.
Kingly, he takes a towel and washes feet.
With majesty, he serves bread and wine.
With honour, he prays all night.
With power, he puts on chains.
Jesus, King of all creation, appears in state
in the eyes of the prisoner, the AIDS orphan, the crack addict,
asking for one cup of cold water,
one coat shared with someone who has none,
one heart, yours,
and a second mile.
Jesus comes to Jerusalem, the city nearest you.
Can you see him?
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| "Raising of Lazarus" by Jason Watson, on Flickr |
John 11:1-45
Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped his feet with her hair; her brother Lazarus was ill. So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, "Lord, he whom you love is ill." But when Jesus heard it, he said, "This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God's glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it." Accordingly, though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.
Then after this he said to the disciples, "Let us go to Judea again." The disciples said to him, "Rabbi, the Jews were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?" Jesus answered, "Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Those who walk during the day do not stumble, because they see the light of this world. But those who walk at night stumble, because the light is not in them." After saying this, he told them, "Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him." The disciples said to him, "Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will be all right." Jesus, however, had been speaking about his death, but they thought that he was referring merely to sleep. Then Jesus told them plainly, "Lazarus is dead. For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him." Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, "Let us also go, that we may die with him."
When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. Martha said to Jesus, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him." Jesus said to her, "Your brother will rise again." Martha said to him, "I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day." Jesus said to her, "I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?" She said to him, "Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world."
When she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary, and told her privately, "The Teacher is here and is calling for you." And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet come to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. The Jews who were with her in the house, consoling her, saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, "Where have you laid him?" They said to him, "Lord, come and see." Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, "See how he loved him!" But some of them said, "Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?"
Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, "Take away the stone." Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, "Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days." Jesus said to her, "Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?" So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, "Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me." When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, "Lazarus, come out!" The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, "Unbind him, and let him go."
Many of the Jews therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him.
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| "Cleaning mud out of her eyes" by Neil, on Flickr |
John 9:1-41
As [Jesus] walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" Jesus answered, "Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God's works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work. As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world." When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made mud with the saliva and spread the mud on the man's eyes, saying to him, "Go, wash in the pool of Siloam" (which means Sent). Then he went and washed and came back able to see. The neighbors and those who had seen him before as a beggar began to ask, "Is this not the man who used to sit and beg?" Some were saying, "It is he." Others were saying, "No, but it is someone like him." He kept saying, "I am the man." But they kept asking him, "Then how were your eyes opened?" He answered, "The man called Jesus made mud, spread it on my eyes, and said to me, 'Go to Siloam and wash.' Then I went and washed and received my sight." They said to him, "Where is he?" He said, "I do not know."
They brought to the Pharisees the man who had formerly been blind. Now it was a sabbath day when Jesus made the mud and opened his eyes. Then the Pharisees also began to ask him how he had received his sight. He said to them, "He put mud on my eyes. Then I washed, and now I see." Some of the Pharisees said, "This man is not from God, for he does not observe the sabbath." But others said, "How can a man who is a sinner perform such signs?" And they were divided. So they said again to the blind man, "What do you say about him? It was your eyes he opened." He said, "He is a prophet."
The Jews did not believe that he had been blind and had received his sight until they called the parents of the man who had received his sight and asked them, "Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How then does he now see?" His parents answered, "We know that this is our son, and that he was born blind; but we do not know how it is that now he sees, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him; he is of age. He will speak for himself." His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews; for the Jews had already agreed that anyone who confessed Jesus to be the Messiah would be put out of the synagogue. Therefore his parents said, "He is of age; ask him."
So for the second time they called the man who had been blind, and they said to him, "Give glory to God! We know that this man is a sinner." He answered, "I do not know whether he is a sinner. One thing I do know, that though I was blind, now I see." They said to him, "What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?" He answered them, "I have told you already, and you would not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you also want to become his disciples?" Then they reviled him, saying, "You are his disciple, but we are disciples of Moses. We know that God has spoken to Moses, but as for this man, we do not know where he comes from." The man answered, "Here is an astonishing thing! You do not know where he comes from, and yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but he does listen to one who worships him and obeys his will. Never since the world began has it been heard that anyone opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he could do nothing." They answered him, "You were born entirely in sins, and are you trying to teach us?" And they drove him out.
Jesus heard that they had driven him out, and when he found him, he said, "Do you believe in the Son of Man?" He answered, "And who is he, sir? Tell me, so that I may believe in him." Jesus said to him, "You have seen him, and the one speaking with you is he." He said, "Lord, I believe." And he worshiped him. Jesus said, "I came into this world for judgment so that those who do not see may see, and those who do see may become blind." Some of the Pharisees near him heard this and said to him, "Surely we are not blind, are we?" Jesus said to them, "If you were blind, you would not have sin. But now that you say, 'We see,' your sin remains.
Christ told Nicodemus, as a friend, "Man, you must be born again!"