“It’s Possible to Dream Again”

or, “Just when you thought it was safe to go back”

April 23, 2011

John 20:11-18

¹¹ Now Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb ¹² and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot.

¹³ They asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?”

“They have taken my Lord away,” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him.” ¹⁴ At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus.

¹⁵ He asked her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?”

Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.”

¹⁶ Jesus said to her, “Mary.”

She turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, “Rabboni!” (which means “Teacher”).

¹⁷ Jesus said, “Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father. Go instead to my brothers and tell them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’”

¹⁸ Mary Magdalene went to the disciples with the news: “I have seen the Lord!” And she told them that he had said these things to her.

Every graveyard where our ancestors lie, every headstone honoring a life that has past, shouts with existential nihilism, “What resurrection?

Who does not feel the despair at one point or another when all hope is lost. Mary returns to attend to Jesus that first Easter morning, in a ritual of respect to honor the dead; the morning dew on the cool earth sparking before the morning sun as it cut through the olive trees and bid farewell to the last of the dark night’s shadows.

4:00 o’clock on Friday she had gathered linens rubbed with resin extracted from agave and socotrine aloes with a scent of balsam to cut the inevitable stench of a decaying corpse. Jesus was dead.

What hope she may have had for some salvation from her earthly addictions had been washed away when Jesus’ last blood drained and death reign triumphantly, “Where is your God?” All hope was lost.

This was utter, tragic defeat. The grief among the followers was poignant: a volatile fuel that explodes with all consuming heat destroying all hope. It burns quickly, and leaves little in its wake but a sense of detachment from reality. It is a vulnerable time.

It is hard to even get up in the morning when such infernos consume our realities. But Mary does get up; embroiled with failure, trying to regain her footing, looking to get grounded again, she moves with resignation, walking into the graveyard with a soul resigned to the inevitable: there is only death.

She knew it all along. Why would she have held out hope for something else? This should have been accepted, and now it was. It was safe now, even if depressing, to return to her old ways.

One of the deepest and most disparaging times in traumatic transition comes when the dysfunctionally familiar patterns that have sustained our integration with the world become exposed for their explicit failure, and we don’t -- as of yet – have in place a new behavior system with which to engage the world. Our reality becomes so shattered that we waver between recoiling to the old ways of thinking, and trying to scratch out a new way of true individualization of our being.

Too often, we default to the way things were. At least the old way felt safe and familiar. So back to the grave, even if it means living in a way that leads only to death. At least we know what to expect.

So, Mary returns to the grave resigned to death, feeling for the moment at least, this is safe.

Steven Schwartz, one of Linda’s colleagues, in Opening to the Infinite, writes,“When we begin to question what has been familiar, the existing paradigm goes into crisis. If we insist on defending the old paradigm, we become very vehement and passionate in its defense. We see a lot of that today, because we are on the verge of change brought on the merging at the edges of physics, biology and medicine.”[i]

Is it possible to pause for a moment and possibly see that victory, real spiritual victory, comes by passing through valley of the shadow of death? death to our addictions, death to our old habits, death to the things that once were comfortable and predictable, but really do not help us thrive; patterns that are only "characterized by compulsive [behavior] ... [riddled with repetitive] physical, psychological, or social harm.” [ii]

Insanity is doing the same thing in the same way and expecting different results.

Jesus approaches Mary in the Garden and asks her if she still wants to look at life the same way and expect the same results, or can she open the portals of her soul to see the real victory wrought in his torrent of torment.

In 1947, Life Magazine ran a profile of Albert Schweitzer’s medical hospital in Lambaréné, then French Equatorial Africa. At that same time a cattle rancher in Arizona, married with four children, seeing the images wrote to the Schweitzer’s only to be invited to visit their African hospital.

On somewhat of a lark, Larry Mellon and his wife Gwen went, only to be overwhelmed by the impact of the Schweitzer’s world view that opened them both to understanding living was an act of Christian devotion that must embrace a full reverence for life.

When they returned to the Arizona, cattle-ranch life they had vacationed from, Larry and Gwen could have gone about to the same, familiar ways of raising beef, making money, nurturing children and praying they were doing something important to change the world. But the portals of perception had been cracked open, and the way it had been could no longer be the way it should be.

He quit ranching, applied to Tulane University Medical School, then took the family to Haiti for the summer of 1953 where he gathered material for his senior thesis in tropical yaws. It was there that Larry and Gwen found an abandoned Standard Fruit banana plantation in the heart of the Artibonite River Valley, with existing houses and enough land for a hospital, and realized it was to be the setting for their life’s work, and on June 26, 1956, the Hôpital Albert Schweitzer began medical services, free of charge, to the impoverished population. It is still in function today.

Mary could have sat and rested her back on the cold stone of the tomb, absorbed in her love, her grief, her resignation to the familiar concepts of death and loved Jesus in his grief, but in such a blind love, she would have missed the enormous triumph; the new promise; the Good News.

Larry and Gwen could have set back on the porch of their Arizona ranch, absorbed in the love of Christ, going to church every Sunday, living in the familiar concepts of good Christ-loving, church-going people doing the familiar rituals of their childhood and making money to provide for the family, but they would have missed the enormous triumph, the new promise, the Good News of new life.

As long as we see Jesus from the grief of the grave, we will forever see only the history of the past, and live our lives by retreating to the graves of our history.

But turn your eyes to the resurrected Christ, who lives not in the graves of our familiar pasts, and it is possible we too will see the glory of resurrection lived in a new age and a new day, and we too will rise!

[i] Stephen A. Schwartz, Opening to the Infinite, c. 2007, p. 361

[ii] Newport Academy, Orange, CA, Residential treatment program for teens suffering from substance abuse and co-occurring disorders, “Addiction Defined,” http://www.newport-academy.com/treatment-program/addiction-defined/

Palm Sunday, 2011

Mark 11:8-10

What a glorious day! (I hope you enjoyed the new hymn from Casting Crowns, written by Mark Hall, Michael Bleeker, Wilbur Chapman. It really conveys the powerful joy we can know from all Jesus is and has done. Dig that refrain: “Living he loved me. Dying he saved me. Rising again, He justified me!”) Wow!

Jesus, moving into Jerusalem after three years of ministry, must have escorted a glorious day for the city; full of all that pent up expectations from years of failed hopes, unfulfilled dreams, disappointing projects, dejected spirits, and rejected souls at the hands of Roman occupation; – their national identity compromised; questioning the validity of the covenant with their ancestor Abraham (how could God let the chosen people of God be loose their independence, their economic power, their position of privilege?

-- finally ... finally ... finally they see their redemption.

It must have been like that day in 2004 when Curt Schilling persevered with a bloody ankle as the moon stood in a lunar eclipse over the once oppressive powerhouse from Louisville (that kept us from winning the 1967 World Series – oh, that was a sad day) and the long suffering and cursed boys from Boston won the World Series! Do you remember the energy that surrounded the Red Sox Nation that night! For once the world was right!

Looking over the hills, across the valley, the light of the afternoon made the temple spires shine like golden arrows pointing to heaven. A warm breezed carried the dusty fragrance

of the olive trees below up along the hillside until they swirled around the head and give off a sweet scent of something familiar.

It was still hot. The air in Jerusalem could parch one with its 95 degrees; ...a slight bead of perspiration on the brow.

It was the about to begin. A few steps down the cobbled street and there was no turning back. Already children knew something was up. A few of Jesus’ friends had made an unusual request to borrow a donkey tied up against a wall, down in the city; a few guys hanging out there wondered what was going on, but they didn’t need an explanation as to why; just a glance at the eyes of these devoted men and something in the mind snapped into a reverence that this was a request that could not be refused (for anyone who looks in the eyes of a committed, born-of-the-spirit disciple of the Living Lord can never be the same).

And as those strangers led that borrowed donkey back out along street, children were the nest to notice. They felt a reverent authority as if a parent just walked into the middle of their youthful bantering and brought a hush to their silliness. They followed. Other’s followed. Curiosity grew. The guy who helped untied the donkey from its hitch on the wall walked along with them, keeping pace, and as folks asked, he told them what he had heard; what he had felt; but words could never fully express what they sensed. Shaking his head one man said, “I have no idea what’s it about, just that their Master needs that little beast, and I believe them.”

Somehow word passed out of the city to the cobbled street leading up the hill to where Jesus was walking down, and word passed back down the valley and pass the city gates to the crowd following the borrowed donkey that it was HIM: ... the one they had heard about, ... the one known to be the prophet Elijah, ... the one whom that eccentric preacher, John, down by the Jordan a few years ago baptized only to be struck with visions of doves, and spirits, and voices and clouds when this one-coming-down-the-hill came up out of the waters. This WAS him!

Have you ever felt the nervous excitement that something great was about to happen? You shoulders get tense? Your posture bends forward? Your fingers start to tingle? A chill shots down your neck to small of your back and fires right back up? You can feel your brain shifting gears as the adrenaline powers you up and every nerve in your body is on hyper alert ... knowing at the next instance your whole world could change.

A preacher invited the church to gather during a drought to pray for rain. He walked up and down the aisle and proclaimed, “Oh ye of little faith. You come praying for rain, but no one brought an umbrella!”

Do you really expect that you will encounter Jesus when you leave the church, put the key in the ignition, head out on 202; that at any instance Jesus is going to meet you? Or, are you just like the majority of church going Christians who come to pray for a proverbial rain, but don’t bring an umbrella because you really don’t believe it.

For once, on the byways of Jerusalem, it didn’t matter if your debts were killing your family. It didn’t matter if your addictions were unmanageable. It didn’t matter if your life was a failure and your dreams would never come to pass. It mattered not if you kept getting involved in dysfunctional relationships, or, your kids hated you, or, your boss abused you, or, your neighbors were idiots. Maybe, just maybe, ... this was it!

The joy was tempered in the eyes of Jesus, however, for he knew their joy was somewhat displaced. Like the Red Sox Nation euphoria, what they worshipped would not last. What they needed was not something anyone could envision.

Yes! Something was about to change, something that meant giving up those shallow ideas that salvation would come from something we could fully envision. But Jesus knew the beast of burden on which he sat symbolized the burden he himself was willing to carry. But did anyone see it?

It meant sacrificing all the ideals of success constructed out of the patterns of familiar rituals we construct to please God. Jesus knew something was about to die and something was inviting a small part of everyone in that crowd (as He is inviting us) to die with it.

Since 1972 when I was ambushed by Jesus in the hills of Northern Idaho, and my desire to be a radical anti-disestablishmentarian died with Christ, I have known that this Lord is the only power of the universe that lets me say,

“Jesus, take this garbage in my heart,

this two bit crud that clogs my soul,

this rubbish of rebellion that ravishes my sense of peace,

take this wreckage to the grave!”

My problem (and I dare say is the problem for all of us), as it was the problem for the crowds in Jerusalem, and Judas who didn’t stick around long enough to see what would happen on Sunday, and Thomas who held out doubt no matter what anyone said, and Peter who denied he ever knew Jesus, ... my problem (and I dare say is the problem for all of us), I don’t want to let go of my addictions. I like them, even if they are killing me.

The crowd was addicted to temple worship, and unless they could give it up, let it die there was no hope of anyone seeing the true temple was not in the building, but the temple is within.

The Newport Academy that works with teenagers views addictions as "characterized by compulsive [behavior] ... despite [known] physical, psychological, or social harm.” [i] We have the knowledge to know what behaviors we need to change, but we have the unwillingness, or the powerlessness to want to change.

· The Haggan Daz tastes too good (even if one pint is been packed with enough calories for a whole day), so we keep eating and get fat.

The smokes are just too relaxing (even though they kill directly and indirectly), so keep lighting up and gat lung cancer.

The five o’clock high ball is too comfortable (even when one high ball becomes five high balls and we need one just to get to sleep),so we keep pouring another.[ii]

Our religion is too important (even when it means we repel others, commit atrocities like the Crusades, and don’t want to open the bible because it might mean we would really have to love someone other than ourselves) so we keep doing three-hymns and a sermon and sitting in church like death warmed over ... because we like the comfort zone we’ve created ... instead of allowing Jesusto fill us the joy of life released in the fullness of God!

By the end of that week in Jerusalem, the joy of the crowd would be buried in a blood soaked tomb, and only those willing to allow a change a heart to infuse their minds, only those able to let Jesus take their sin-filled garbage with him to the grave, would see life does not necessarily die in the hopelessness of that dark day of Friday afternoon on Golgotha’s stench of Mount Calvary, but will rise in freedom of a new day dawning.

“God, we can just have the strength to let go of all the stuff we cling too because it is just too familiar, and are just too frightened to live without it, and to let you bury it all in the depths of the crucifixion’s darkness?”

In our country, 63% believe religion should have a role in public life, we know it’s important, they see its benefits.[iii] And 77% say Christianity is their religious preference.[iv] People like being part of the crowd in Jerusalem...

...but a mere 40% of professed Christian bother to be part of a church,[v] and 59% of these do so because it’s a social activity not a spiritual powerhouse of salvation.[vi]

In other words, most church-going Christians like being religious on the streets on Jerusalem, but are not so interested in being spirit-filled lovers of Jesus and having their carnal quests crucified on the cross.

We don’t need religion as much as we need Jesus, and Jesus is love. Do you, will you, can you accept this love? John put it this way,

“No greater love has the Father than this, that we should be called children of God. And so it is.”[vii]

The poor crowds just couldn’t see it; and come Friday afternoon they were gone, just as badly off as they were before.

Hopefully, we can see Jesus before it is too late and will let Him sacrifice our sin on the cross and change with glory to glory.

As the song says, “Life does not end, it’s begun, at the cross.”[viii]

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[i] Newport Academy, Orange, CA, Residential treatment program for teens suffering from substance abuse and co-occurring disorders, “Addiction Defined,” http://www.newport-academy.com/treatment-program/addiction-defined/

[ii] Dean F. MacKinnon, M.D., John Hopkins University School of Medicine, “Sate ain't So, Hungry, horny, or weary? Maybe it’s all in your head,” Psychology Today, April 16, 2011.”

[iii] Gallup Research, January 30, 2007, “Public Generally Satisfied with Role of Organized Religion in America”

[iv] Gallup Research, April 10, 2009, “Christianity’s Slow Decline in the U.S”

[v] Frank Newport, Gallup Research, April 6, 2007, “Just Why Do Americans Attend Church?

[vi] Ibid..

[vii] 1 John 3:1

[viii] “At the Cross,” Worship Institute, Copyright © 2003, Alleluia Music