Monday, April 14, 2014

Playing Jesus

My faith was formed in a smaller-membership village church in the hills of Missouri.  In that congregation, Jesus was central to our faith.  Jesus was special, set apart.  I think this is why we never had a live baby, who was cradled in Mary's arms, in Christmas pageants.  There were babies in the church, but the manger was always empty, simply filled with yellowed straw.  We had to imagine the holy Child of Bethlehem, lying in that place.  Like the cross on the altar, the cradle was empty.  Perhaps resurrection was already there in the way we portrayed the birth story, but I think it was probably that Jesus was too special to be represented by another human being.

Several months ago, a pastor invited me to visit her congregation and share in a choral reading of the Passion Story from the Gospel of Matthew.  She asked me to read Jesus' part in the narrative on Palm/Passion Sunday.  Yesterday proved to be a humbling experience for me.  I noted, for example, how often Jesus spoke in the opening scenes and how silent he became as his crucifixion became a reality.  In giving voice to his cry from the cross, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" I felt his forsakenness and abandonment.  I wondered what his final word might have been since Matthew doesn't record it, but only says, "Then Jesus cried again with a loud voice and breathed his last" (Mt. 27:50).  There is mystery deeper than understanding in the story.

I also noted how connected I felt with the congregants during and following that worship service.  Perhaps it is true that when we connect with Christ's suffering a bond is created that is deeper and more enduring.  It was more than a reading--it was a reorienting of life and ministry, a place of deep connection. 

So, my challenge to you in this Holy Week, is to find one of those old red-letter Bibles with the words of Jesus set apart, printed in red.  Read the whole Passion narrative in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John--one each day.  Focus on the Jesus part.  Make it your own.  Take it to heart.  Let his word be yours as we journey to Friday . . . and to Sunday.

O Jesus, I have promised to follow you to the end.  That end is at hand.  Holy Week brings an ending I would rather avoid, and a beginning that I am sometimes slow to embrace.  Let this be a sacred time.  Lead me in paths of humility and hope.  Amen.