Tag: writing to pray

Isaiah 50:4-9a, Philippians 2:5-11, Luke 22:14-23:56

When reading Luke’s account of the Passion, particularly the moments of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, one may be struck by how lonely He must have felt. These are the last moments of his freedom, and yet, His best friends/disciples fall asleep. They’ve done that before, however, to zonk out at this moment adds to the sense of Jesus’ loneliness. And why is it that an angel comforts Him? Why isn’t His Father the one cheering Him on? The only other time that the angel appears to Jesus in Luke’s gospel is at the Annunciation. These two beginnings, before birth and before death, echo each other.

Our bad guys, Pilate and Herod are not completely unsympathetic; Pilate tries to deny the crowds and we are told that Herod wanted to meet Jesus. Meanwhile, those who are supposed to be good guys, the disciples who have accompanied Jesus throughout his ministry— well, one denies Him, and the other out and out betrays Him. The criminals crucified with Him; one is supportive, the other snarky and rude. Both and, again. While Jesus has often made statements which indicate that in His Father’s Kingdom everything is turned upside-down, it’s painful to see it play out in people’s behavior at the Passion. 

Jesus being accused of something He didn’t do; it is patently untrue to say He wanted to overthrow the government. False and unfair. He has been intentionally misunderstood. This too adds to the loneliness of His crucification. Like Jesus some are lonely because they are misunderstood or mistreated; denied freedom to live or to make choices. Sometimes we get caught in our opinions and passions, this cause or that. But issues and politics and social justice aside, reflecting on the intense loneliness of the Passion, gives us pause to evaluate whether or not we are doing all we can for others in regard to easing burdens of loneliness and understanding the potential causes and consequences. 

Journal Questions:

Aside from a sense of loneliness, what else do I felt when I read the entity of Luke’s gospel?

When have I felt each of these feelings before?

What am I doing to help people feel less lonely?

Isaiah 43:16-21, Philippians 3:4b-14, John 12:1-8

Like last week, this week’s gospel reading also focuses on the lavishness. Like the prodigal father, Mary lavishly and generously bestows a gift upon Jesus, washing his feet with perfumed oil. In other readings, it does not appear that Jesus knows the woman, however, in Luke’s gospel, it is Mary, his long-time friend who does this act of preparation. While we know that Mary has always listened to Jesus, we’ve never been told of such a gesture of adoration and servitude. It is generally her sister, Martha, meeting the needs of others. In other words, this is not typical behavior for Mary. 

Luke tells us repeatedly that none of the disciples or followers have understood what Jesus has revealed about his impending death. So Mary probably does not understand that she is preparing him for his death. What has made her think to do this? Was it totally spontaneous? Has a little voice been nagging at her? Either way, she appears to be following her own intuition? 

In today’s first reading from Isaiah the Lord states, I am doing something new. It springs forth. Do you not perceive it? We live in an interesting age where there are so many new ideas, information and products that newness is actually ‘same-old-same-old’ to us. As Christians we generally interpret many of Isaiah’s passages to be referring to Jesus— He is indeed a new sort of leader, one that focuses on intentionally choosing to serve, one that turns everything upside-down.

Mary is serving Jesus in this passage, but is doing so by following her intuition, not by following the customs and conventions of the time. Her actions, on their own, don’t fully  make sense. To follow our intuition, whether the action is totally spontaneous, or a little voice has been nagging at us for some time, may mean doing things we can’t fully explain, or that appear a bit illogical, maybe even a little inappropriate. 

Meanwhile, because we are every character in scripture, just like in our dreams, we are also Judas. Judas is very similar to the eldest and jealous brother last week, who did not live in a paradigm of expansive generosity and resented those who did. However, whereas the eldest brother last week gets a bit of a talking to and climbs down, Judas actually takes action based on his feelings of resentment and jealousy. He was also following an instinct when he set up Jesus’ betrayal. He cannot tolerate Jesus’ paradigm of ‘upside-down-ness.’ Lent, and Holy Week in particular, invites us to reflect on both the Mary and the Judas within us. Who did we channel more of in the last year? Do we need to make any changes? 

Journal Questions

When in the past year have you taken actions like Mary and when have you acted more like Judas? 

What role does your intuition play in your life? Do you tend to follow it or ignore it? How might you characterize your communication with your intuition?

Explore your thoughts and feelings about whether or not the Lord is doing anything ‘new’ in your life.

Joshua 5:9-12, Psalm 32, 2 Corinthians 5:16-21, Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

Joshua is recounting the second Passover; the first marked the beginning of the wilderness experience, this one acknowledges and celebrates its ending. Although a different cause, the Prodigal Son is also emerging from a wilderness experience. It doesn’t matter how we end up wandering in the desert or the wilderness, scripture might suggest that it is a necessary part of ‘growing up,’ whether a child or a nation.

The Prodigal Son is referred to as such because, as the first definition of the word prodigal indicates, he has recklessly and wastefully squandered his share of the inheritance. He returns home, but we do not call him the Homecoming Son. He confesses to his father, “I have sinned against Heaven and against you,” but we do not call him the Repenting or Confessing Son.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the second definition of the word prodigal means having or giving something on a lavish scale. The father in the story offers grand-scale forgiveness, a huge banquet, an over-the-top welcome home. The father’s lavishness, because its bestowed on others, is described as generosity and care. This son also possesses a sense of expanse and extravagance; not for others, but for himself. When focused inward, this characteristic looks like gluttony, greed, and selfishness. 

They are different sides of the same coin: both possess a characteristic, in equal measure, each on the opposite end of the spectrum. You could say, both father and son live within a paradigm of expanse and lavishness; we can see that the elder son/brother does not live within such a paradigm. Jung refers to this tick of human nature as the ‘shadow side.’ 

This parable suggests that part of growing up is choosing to shift our focus from ourselves to others, to use our characteristics and paradigms to benefit and serve others. Reflecting on our own desert or wilderness wandering experiences, invite us to reflect on those paradigms or characteristics that we possess and who benefits from them. 

Journal Questions:

What have my wilderness/desert experiences been? How did they involve turning my focus from myself to others? 

What paradigms and characteristics do I operate within? What do they look like when turned inward; what do look like when turned outwards?

When I am wastefully extravagant, what do I over-do? What is it I do and/or give lavishly?

Exodus 3:1-15, 1 Corinthians 10:1-13, Luke 13:1-9

To notice the bush is not burning normally, Moses needs to understand general laws of nature, and to observe how the bush in question is behaving differently. And because it must have taken Moses some time to figure it out, the Lord bides His time, patiently waiting to reveal Himself in the not-burning bush.

In the notes included in his translation, The Five Books of Moses, Robert Alter explains that because ancient Hebrew’s grammar is constructed differently than modern English, there are often a variety of translations which are accurate and reasonable. While we typically translate God’s name for Himself as I Am Who Am, the following would also be correct: I Will Be Who I Will Be, I Am That I Am, I Am He Who Endures, He Who Brings Things Into Being, and, I Will Be.

Furthermore, The Paulist Biblical Commentary suggests the name the Lord offers as His own is an early form of the Hebrew verb, to be. The commentator writes, “The phrase ‘I Am’ or ‘I Will Be Who I am’ places the focus of God’s name on actions for Israel and not God’s independent being or essence.” 

Before offering His name, however, which He does only after Moses demands it, the Lord says, “I have witnessed the affliction of my people in Egypt and have heard their cry of complaint against their slave drivers, so I know well what they are suffering. Therefore I have come down to rescue them.”

In other words, the Lord self-identifies with the actions He performs on Israel’s behalf, actions intended to save His beloved people. This rescuing continues down through the ages. Jesus’ name, Yeshua, in fact, translates as rescuer, savior.

It is a small irony then that while Jesus gained for us ‘an afterlife’ where we can dwell with Him, where we need never be without Him, we fail to realize we are already with Him in the here and now. Are we, am I, waiting for Eternal Life to notice the Lord? Could I be failing to notice a not-burning bush at my feet?

Journal Questions:

Am I waiting for Eternal Life to notice the Lord’s presence? 

Could I be failing to notice a not-burning bush at my feet? Is the Lord patiently waiting for me to do so? 

How do each of the varied translations of God’s name for Himself resonate with me?

Genesis 15:1-12,17-18, Philippians 3:17-4:1, Luke 13:31-35

In this gospel passage, Jesus speaks to ‘Jeruselum’ as if He’s talking to a person. His sense of disappoint and betrayal, His broken-heart-ness is palpable. Regardless of political opinions, we’ve all been disappointed in our society. Safe to say, we’ve all been frustrated with people within it who choose to hurt others who also dwell within the same society. 

There is a sense of ‘othering’ or ‘them-us-ing’ which allows and promotes this sort distance and discrimination. But we’ve all had that feeling that, regardless of how different someone is from us, we want to gather them into our arms, protect them, shelter them. So often, these are folks that do not seem to perceive the danger or harm’s way that they are in. 

Who is it, which groups of marginalized peoples melt your heart in this way? Is the immigrants who live in the US and are now afraid for their safety? Is it people who have conditions or disabilities and are not afforded the same dignity, choices and respect that others are? Is it people in the US of color, who simply still do not have the same opportunities and advantages that white people do? Is it people with an alternative sexual orientation or gender expression? 

We are often moved to take action on social justice issues because we are angry and frustrated. But this gospel reading suggests that we should maybe pay attention to a different sort of feeling. If we focus our efforts on the cause that breaks our hearts, then we find our action can be specific and concrete. Which group of ‘others’ makes your heart melt? Like Jesus in this reading, what group of marginalized people do you want to gather in your arms and shelter?

Journal Questions:

How do you see them-us-ing and other-ing in your communities? How do you respond?

When have you experienced a broken heart and when a melted heart? What’s the difference?

Which cause related to marginalized people melts or breaks your heart?