Category: Easter

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Betrayer or Betrayed?

This holy week, I’ve been drawn Judas. My heart hurts for him. He was called by Christ, not unlike the other 11. And his role in betraying Jesus is well documented. John’s gospel also tells us that he held the money and was “skimming off the top,” to use today’s terminology. Not the best role or legacy.

But let’s take a new lens to Judas. He was weak in faith and therefore susceptible to Satan and his deceptive ways. The gospels tell us Satan had a hold on him that hopefully none of us will fully know. And so when his doubts were coupled with Satan’s manipulation, his guard was down. So what did he do?

He went to what he knew – his church and its leaders. Instead of being a mirror to Judas and counseling him, what did they do? They took advantage of his weakness for their own ends. They knew he was monetarily motivated and so with 30 pieces of silver, they bought his soul and sealed his place in biblical history.

After hearing that Jesus had been condemned to death, the gospel of Matthew tells us that Judas was .filled with remorse. Again he went to those who were his church leaders saying, “I have sinned in that I have betrayed the innocent blood.” (MT 27:4) How did those leaders respond? Did they offer help, compassion or empathy? Did they offer forgiveness? No. They responded, “what is that to us?” (MT 27:4). Judas throws the silver at them and leaves. We know what he did. We know where he went. His heart was broken beyond his ability to repair. He was so filled with grief and remorse, he went to a field with rope. He found a tree. He looped the rope around a strong branch on the tree and wrapped the rope around his neck. He then fell and hung himself. But what if…

What if Judas instead of going to the church leaders had gone to Christ. What if he begged at the foot of Christ hanging on the cross and asked for forgiveness? How would Jesus responded? Would he rejected him? Would Jesus let himself die on the cross without healing Judas’s heart? We know that wouldn’t have happened. Not unlike Jesus offered forgiveness to the criminal hung beside him, he would have given grace and forgiveness kneeling before him. He would have healed the broken heart and renewed his soul.

Imagine how different history would have been? Imagine the story Judas could have told. “Look, it was my betrayal that put Jesus on the cross. He wouldn’t have been there had I not sold out for 30 pieces of silver. And you know what, he forgave me! He stitched my broken heart back together. Man, if he can do that for me, believe he will do the same for you. Have faith. Trust him.”

When I had thought about this alternative path for Judas, I truly stopped during a walk and got teary. I said out loud, “Oh Judas. If you had only believed and trusted in the one who chose you, your story could be so different. If only…”

Today take a moment and look around. Think about how a life could be made different through forgiveness and grace that Jesus can offer – or you can offer on his behalf.

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The Other Sacrifices Made

When I was a child, it was my responsibility to set up the nativity scene at Christmas. One of the figures in our set is the donkey. My dad often said to me, make sure he is near the hay. He’s earned his food.

As an adult I reflected on that wisdom from my Dad. The donkey carried a nine-month pregnant woman across the country in the heat, with limited water and likely little food. He had earned his keep. This led me to think about those other characters, others who helped but really weren’t acknowledge, and in some cases even mentioned in the gospels stories.

Today is Good Friday 2020. We are still in quarantine due to COVID-19, but I’ve been listening to the scriptures and reflecting on that moment when the crowd cries out and ask that Barabbas is freed, opening the path for the crucifixion of Christ. Tradition and scripture tell us Barabbas was a notorious prisoner, possibly part of the insurrection against Roman rule. And in the gospels of Mark and Luke, we are told he committed murder.

Knowing that Barabbas committed murder gave me pause, and I thought about the family and friends of the people Barabbas killed. They aren’t mentioned; we don’t even know who Barabbas murdered. But those people, those unmentioned in scripture or history, had to feel something about Barabbas’s release.

Having just come out of the grief of the loss of a loved one, believed that in Barabbas’s arrest there was some justice being served. Now he was on the streets again. Were they worried he would come after other members of their family? Would they lose another love? Would they start the cycle of grief and tears again?

My heart hurts for those people whose sacrifices are silent. Their stories and place in the gospel story, their critical role in the fulfillment of the glorious story of Christ’s death and resurrection shouldn’t go unnoticed. And I hope that by writing this, they are not forgotten. Their role may have been minor, but their fear, anger and feelings of injustice with the release of Barabbas was likely very real.

We are told in the beatitudes that “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. (MT 5:4). History may have not noticed those who suffered because of Barabbas’s deeds, but God won’t and hasn’t. And hopefully, neither will we.

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No Ordinary Sunday

I find that in the midst of COVID-19 and #stayathome orders, I am reverting to behaviors I discovered and developed while I lived overseas my junior year of college as well as later in life for work. The moments and traditions I treasure can’t be captured or created in the usual way, so I don’t try. I think about how can I make this different, fulfilling in a new way given the new circumstances.

Today is Palm Sunday, the holiest week of the year for those who follow Christ. For me, it is my absolute favorite time of the year. The liturgy is rich with nuance and meaning, the readings hold the essence of our faith and the music, oh the music. Let’s just have a humble brag and say the my choir knocks it out of the park. I love this time of the year. You can have Christmas, I’ll take Lent, through Palm Sunday, Easter, and right up to Pentecost. It nourishes and fills my soul.

It isn’t a wonder that not being able to experience Palm Sunday and Holy Week in my usual way has me feeling unbalanced and unfulfilled. But last night I was thinking that I had to create something to move me. I couldn’t grieve the loss. Rather I needed to create something new. Something that would make this year stand out as different, because it is.

I’ve tried watching the Mass online but it just doesn’t do it for me. As a Catholic, Mass is all about community and participation. To simply watch and individually participate at home doesn’t work for me. Even if I was in a room with family or friends, I still think it wouldn’t fulfill me.

This week, I prayed and asked, what can I do to start this holiest of weeks in a way that is going to put me in the right state of mind and fill by heart. Fortunately I live close to the Cathedral of St. Paul, in St. Paul, Minnesota. As a national shrine, the Cathedral has been formally recognized for its special historical, cultural and religious significance. It is our “local” place to pray outside of Rome. And on Palm Sunday, they would be outside distributing palms from 9am – 11am. I felt it pressed on my heart to “make a pilgrimage” to the Cathedral.

Cathedral of St Paul Minnesota
Cathedral of St. Paul, St. Paul, MN

I pulled on my coat and gloves, put in my ear buds and listened to today’s scripture readings as I took the 20 minutes walk uphill to the Cathedral. I arrived fairly close to 9am. Two priests were outside handing out baggies of palms. I was at that time the only one to have walked up. I’m sure I wasn’t the last as the Cathedral is very much in the neighborhood.

As I listened to the scriptures during my journey, I felt incredibly moved – I thought about the victims of the criminal Barabbas and the pain felt at his release. I thought about Judas, going to the chief priests to return the silver, I thought about the crowds crying out “crucify him. “

After receiving my palms, the priest asked me if there was anything else he could do for me. I asked for a blessing, which he graciously offered. The tears at that point began to fall from my eyes and down my cheeks. I turned and began my walk home.

Along the way, I saw a tent of a homeless person and another person with a sign asking for money. I so wanted to open my little baggie and offer a palm. But I didn’t. What held me back from that simple gesture of prayer to another human? Was it fear – not fear of personal harm, but fear that it wouldn’t matter or make a difference. They would just simply cast aside my palm seeing it at something not practical that they can use – like clothing, a blanket or even cash. Again, I wept for my own lack of courage.

I came home and made a cross and a heart from my palms. I taped them to my windows and the sunlight powers through the branches as I write this. And my mind continues to whirl with thoughts. Palm Sunday. Not what I expected, but certainly one I won’t forget. Amen.

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Roll Away the Stone

Today is what my choir friends and I call Roll Away the Stone Sunday, named after the song by Tom Conry. The gospel is John 11: 1-45 in which Jesus travels to Martha and Mary’s because Lazarus has died.

The first time we sang this song, we repeated the refrain many times. We were captured in the moment and it felt right, spirit led to sing those words over and over, “Roll away the stone and see the glory of God. Roll away the stone.” It was as if our voices were willing the stone to move. It wasn’t forceful, it was faith-full. As we repeated the refrain again and again, out of seemingly nowhere, we hear our soloist cry out, “Lazarus, come out!” It was one of those powerful moments when chills run down your back and the hairs on your arms stand up. Even as I write this, I remember the sensation of that moment.

We haven’t been able to recreate that specific moment, but we relive it every time we hear that scripture reading and sing this piece. “Roll away the stone and see the glory of God. Roll away the stone.”

As we are staying home to protect others and ourselves during this COVID-19 pandemic, I was reflecting on this song. “Roll away the stone.” It isn’t a huge leap to start to wonder, what stones has God rolled away in my life and allowed me to see the glory of God?

To cover them all – the stones, the pebbles or rocks – is a long winding road. Many have heard the stories, some are part of those tales. Needless to say (but I’ll say it anyway) there is not a stone in my life that God hasn’t removed, allowing me to not only see but to deeply experience God’s glory in miraculous as well as tiny, every day ways.

Each year, I pick a theme rather than make resolutions. I have been doing this long before it was cool and trendy. My theme for 2020 is Glorious Unfolding, from the song by Steven Curtis Chapman (yes, music is a theme in my life). The song speaks to allowing God to unfold wonders in my life, just to trust in the journey. It calls me to stop doing what I am well known for doing – planning and being freakishly efficient and organized. Lately, I have found myself drifting back into that pattern, especially amid the stay at home order. I make my lists, I cross off items and continue to feel that sense of accomplishment.

Yet, despite the fear and unknown of this virus, I feel called to slow down. And, that is a blessing. I’ve been moving very fast for about the last five years. But now that I have settled into my home office and adjusted to the temporary moment of physical distancing, I am called to be still, to take in and to see the Glory of God.

I will miss singing this powerful song this weekend with my friends, my spiritual family. Yet, not singing has forced me to pause, to relive in my heart a powerful moment and remember the stones God has rolled away – not just for me, but for those around me. Now I ask God to reveal to me what I have yet to learn as I take this time to pause. “Roll away the stone and see the glory of God. Roll away the stone.”