Today's somewhat short collect from the prayerbook:
Almighty God, whose most dear Son went not up to joy but first he suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he was crucified: Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the cross, may find it none other than the way of life and peace; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
I was taken by the Gospel reading (John 12:1-11) in today's lectionary. John, the beloved disciple provides us with the account of one who was there in the room, perhaps even standing there besides the Master. The emotions of St. John seem to drip off the page of his account (sparing nothing towards the Iscariot). From his up-close vantage point, the Evangelist provides a very visceral picture of the sincere worship of one devout woman. Saint John wasn't alone in recounting this moment in Bethany; the account is recorded across all four Gospels. So, since this episode was important enough to be covered by the four Evangelists, what is the point of it all?
Worship is Costly
Worship is Visceral
Worship is Fragrant
Mary opened a one pound jar of ointment. This wasn't your aveeno or vaseline intensive care. No, this was a priceless item by contemporary standards that cost nearly an entire year's wages. Imagine if you can, a $48,000.00 beauty product. The essential elements of the perfumed ointment came by caravan from as far as Nepal, and was highly treasured by contemporary Romans. Even the jar itself would have been considered a treasure as it was likely from the ancient Egyptian city of Alabastron and carved by hand from native Oriental alabaster. The jar was broken and poured out onto the master, both head and feet received the rich, aromatic perfume. In moments, and to the chagrin of many in the room, the Rabbi was now covered in costly nard. Mary offered up her most treasured possession in this act of worship. It was her nest egg and would not be replaced in this lifetime. This was second only to her own life when it came to value and the act of adoration was harrumphed by thief and super-saint alike.
This was no casual, detached act on Mary's part. No, this wasn't like your typical foot washing given by servants to guests of that day. The thick nard was spreading across the Master's feet as Mary doffed her head covering, then used her own hair to make sure that no drop was wasted or no part of Christ's feet were missed. Mary worshipped, body, mind and soul.
Mary's act of worship filled the entire house that day. Everyone, detractors not withstanding, were effected by her sincere, unfeigned act. The fragrant aroma of the nard quickly spread from the object of her adoration (Jesus), and wafted onto every corner of the home where they met.
So... How does this stack up against the pathetic whiny me-monkey prayers that we're so wont to offer up? Something to ponder this Holy Week.
O God, the King eternal, whose light divides the day from the
night and turns the shadow of death into the morning: Drive
far from us all wrong desires, incline our hearts to keep your
law, and guide our feet into the way of peace; that, having
done your will with cheerfulness while it was day, we may,
when night comes, rejoice to give you thanks; through Jesus
Christ our Lord. Amen.
Mornings remind me of the renewing and transformational love of the Almighty. Its a pause pointing to the fact that we've been given a new opportunity to live our lives in a way that glorifies the Godhead, and another chance to live out our faith in ways to touch and impact the lives of those around us. Before the Divine encounter, my mornings were that sense of "Once more into the breach". They were the time to be thrown back into the struggle after a brief and fleeting respite of sleep. But now, rather than quoting the Bard, its a time to quote Prophet and Hymn writer in declaring "Morning by morning, new mercies I see"!
Lord Jesus Christ, you said to your apostles, "Peace I give to
you; my peace I leave with you:" Regard not our sins,
but the faith of your Church, and give to us the peace and
unity of that heavenly city, where with the Father and the
Holy Spirit you live and reign, now and for ever. Amen.
The Blood of Christ and the Peace of Christ are intrinsically woven together and if we lack either, we are truly lost. In this peace, we hear the whisper of the Holy Spirit as he comforts us with the words Ego te absolvo (I forgive you). Its through this peace that we're also empowered to forgive others and of equal importance, the power to forgive ourselves.
On the tenth day of the first month the people went up from the Jordan and camped at Gilgal on the eastern border of Jericho. And Joshua set up at Gilgal the twelve stones they had taken out of the Jordan. And Joshua set up at Gilgal the twelve stones they had taken out of the Jordan. tell them, 'Israel crossed the Jordan on dry ground.' For the LORD your God dried up the Jordan before you until you had crossed over. The LORD your God did to the Jordan what he had done to the Red Sea when he dried it up before us until we had crossed over. He did this so that all the peoples of the earth might know that the hand of the LORD is powerful and so that you might always fear the LORD your God." ... Then the LORD said to Joshua, "Today I have rolled away the reproach of Egypt from you." So the place has been called Gilgal to this day. On the evening of the fourteenth day of the month, while camped at Gilgal on the plains of Jericho, the Israelites celebrated the Passover. The day after the Passover, that very day, they ate some of the produce of the land: unleavened bread and roasted grain. The manna stopped the day after they ate this food from the land; there was no longer any manna for the Israelites, but that year they ate the produce of Canaan. (Joshua 4:19-24; 5:9-12 NIV)
This Sunday, we crossed the midpoint in this Lenten season on our journey from Ash Wednesday to Easter Sunday and before we know, we'll be loudly proclaiming "Alleluia, Christ is Risen!" All of this said, I find this morning's readings to be especially poignant. If we were to consider today's readings, OT, NT and Gospel, we might see a picture of us taken in the past, present, and future. (Those readings were the aforementioned, Luke 15:1-3;11-32 and 2 Corinthians 5:16-21.) Everyone of us, from our fallen birth were rebels and enemies of the Almighty. Like the younger brother in the Gospel, we disparaged our Father wanting his bounty while wishing him dead. We lived life on our own terms and soon found ourselves enslaved and eating pig slop. We turned our eyes towards home and while trying to renegotiate rapprochement on our terms, the Father threw his arms around us and brought us back into his home. Like Israel in entering the land of God's promise, we're reminded of God's care in our desert wanderings. We see his provision at every turn. That provision carried Israel all the way from the clay pits of Goshen to the plains of Jericho. Saint Paul in writing to the Corinthians reminds us why we've been redeemed; to remind us how
For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.
Think for a moment; do you remember a place that no longer exists? Some may recall a house or a store or tavern or the like, but I'm speaking about something bigger... an Air Station and American community. Hessisch-Oldendorf Air Station, or Hess, was a plot of ground on the north slope of a saxon hillside, about 25 miles southwest of Hanover in what was then, West Germany. It was far removed from the "Little America" that existed in places like Ramstein-Kaiserslautern or Frankfurt. It was populated by what I've referred to as the "truck driving air force" people who worked on fog-shrouded mountains and trained in the mud for a conflict that mercifully never happened. It was a place where your boots were bloused and Air Force blue was a rare sight. For all that Hess was, today it is a fading memory in the minds of most. The facility was closed in 1990 and now outside of it's street grid, few artifacts exist pointing to its existence. There are young adults in the town who have lived their entire lives without hearing the rumble of M-35s lumbering down Lang Strasse. What they do know, they've learned from parents or older family members who lived with, worked or played with, or possibly even loved the young Americans who were posted to their town. For those of us who were there though, it was the time of our lives. Hess is gone, but it will live on as long as we remember it. For me now, Memories of Hess conjure up the imagery in Sting's "Fields of Gold".
It took almost an entire winter, but now Suburbia Majora is blanketed in its first truly measurable snow. I find it interesting how a blanket of snow affects the immediate world around you. Funny, but the only time I'm able to hear a train whistle is when it snows.
