Like a Suitcase Full of Money: a meditation of Mark 15:34 for Good Friday · 126 days ago by James Wetzstein
Hardly any of us are engaged in the story of this day without an awareness of how it ends. Though there is plenty of sorrow and much to mourn on Good Friday, there is precious little suspense. I dare say that none of us are sitting here wondering how it will all turn out for Jesus. As surely as we can see our calendars, we know already that Easter Sunday follows Good Friday.
So it is that we, even as we hear the words of Jesus cry “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me,” can fall into the assumption that this is all some sort of elaborate play–a set up–in which Jesus plays the part of the savior of the word by being sacrifices to appease the justice of a holy god against whom humanity has sinned. This is even more the case when we consider that God is described as knowing all things, even into the future.
In this role then, Jesus is abandoned, forsaken by his Father. At least he appears to be, when in reality, it’s all been worked out ahead of time, every blow, every groan, choreographed down to the smallest detail the way they do it for those professional wrestling shows on TV that claim to be real.
This would, however, render this whole three-day drama fake and leave us to wonder about the effectiveness of such a salvation and our need for it in the first place.
If this abandonment which Jesus decries is in someway real, how is it real? If it is real, how is it that Jesus is ultimately saved from such abandonment and restored?
We might imagine that Jesus isn’t really abandoned at all. That just like King David, whom he’s quoting, Jesus is overcome by such trials and is enduring so much suffering that he cries out against God who has promised to bless. When none of our circumstances look like blessing, it’s easy to conclude that the God of blessing has gone from us. In such times, we, like David and Job and all the Children of Israel in the wilderness cry out against God. “Where are you? Why have you left me here like this?” Is this what is happening to Jesus? Does it only seem like the Father has abandoned him as he hangs from the cross in agony?
If this is the case, how then does the crucifixion of Jesus respond to the need for justice in the cosmos? If Jesus is bearing the sins of all humanity and is in fact to suffer the full consequences of this sin as a proxy for creation that will be the sacrifice that pays the ransom of all of humanity’s willful betrayal of God, how can a god of justice have any integrity and yet cushion the fall of the one who is sacrificed by maintaining an abiding, if unrealized presence?
If Jesus is to be fully the payment that justice requires, he must be utterly given away into the hands of death. Like the suitcase full of money in one of those elaborate crime thrillers, that is set down in the middle of the parking lot so that the others might come to retrieve it, Jesus must be set down by God as a ransom and then the Father must walk away with those who have been redeemed; you, me and all of creation with us.
So it is that the words King David sang in Psalm 22 come to mean exactly what they say when they come from the mouth of Jesus.
Jesus is the ransom left in the hands of death, humanity’s kidnapper.
Comment [2]
Fifth Anniversary of the War in Iraq · 130 days ago by James Wetzstein
This week marks the fifth Anniversary of the War in Iraq.
Last year, Prof. Jeni Prough created a memorial presentation featuring the names of the American War dead for the fourth anniversary. Regina Hollingshead has updated the memorial for this year.
This memorial will be displayed at the Chapel of the Resurrection as part of the observance of the anniversary between 7:00pm and 8:30pm on Tuesday night, March 18.
You can download the powerpoint file here and use it to display the memorial in your dorm lounge or lobby Tuesday night.
Begin with the End in Mind · 173 days ago by James Wetzstein
A Sermon in support of EdJakarata: imagination in session, this year’s World Relief Campaign, on the Festival of the Transfiguration of Our Lord
Lent comes early this year and seems, by it’s early arrival, to drive at the point that the Transfiguration is primarily a divine condescension, a lucky rest stop on an unwelcome trip, a guilty vacation from a dark reality. If it is necessary that Jesus head into Lent on the way to Calvary, perhaps it’s better to just get on with it.
“Lord it is good to be here,” exclaims Peter. “If you wish, I will make three shelters.” Matthew doesn’t include the point that Peter doesn’t know what he’s talking about, but it’s hardly necessary. The fact that Peter’s offer is essentially ignored seems evidence enough that his offer of shelter is both unnecessary and unwelcome.
Certainly the mountaintop is wonderful. It’s best not to put too much stock in such experiences. They never last. Peter, James and John are brought down from the mountain, even though they wished to stay and you will be too. The real work of the life isn’t on the mountain after all, it’s down from the mountain. It’s in the valleys, in the trenches of life, the days of challenge and hard work. It’s not glamorous or glorious. Even success is, as they say, 10% inspiration and 90% perspiration.
The fleeting nature of the Transfiguration, at least from the perspective of the disciples, is a reminder of all of this–this call to hard work in the trenches of life.
Not that we’re not without guidance, mind you, the voice from the brilliant cloud joins the threesome of a radiant Jesus along with Moses and Elijah, enveloping the disciples and declaring the identity of Jesus as Messiah, Beloved Son and Servant of God and then declaring that they should listen to him just as the people of the Exodus were to have listened to Moses, another for whom the mountain was a wayside with the Divine on a grueling journey.
But his voice seems only to strike fear in the hearts of the three men who have come with Jesus and the preacher takes the opportunity to wag his (or her) finger again at us and suggest that those mountaintop experiences which we treasure in our memory: those last days of camp, that clarity on retreat, the delight of a train through the French countryside, the point of intellectual awareness in the pages of a book, the joy of the sight of the soaring hawk over the trail, the sound of your beloved’s “yes”. None of those were real mountaintops after all because we weren’t scared half to death in the face of it. As though such an analysis might move us to rethink our assessment of that time when our car on the snow covered road seemed to take on a mind of it’s own as time slowed to a crawl and we watched helplessly as the light pole drew closer and closer and then…BAM!
Oh yeah, now that I look back on it, with the wisdom of the Gospel, I see it. That was really living!
Hardly.
Our confusion seems compounded as Jesus leads these disciples back down the mountainside. “Tell no one of this vision until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”
Now what do you suppose we should make of that?
Ironically, the part of that command which would have caused Peter the most trouble, probably causes us the least. We know how the story ends. We know about Jesus rising from the dead. That for us, is the easy part. Go figure.
But “Tell no one?” Why this secrecy? What has Jesus been holding back? What did Moses and Elijah say to him that is so hush-hush?
Tell no one?
In God’s name, why?
Life management guru, Stephen Covey, in his book, “The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People” provides a list of, yes, seven, behaviors that, he argues, will make your life more productive, less wasteful, more fulfilling. One of his dicta goes this way. “Begin with the end in mind.” It’s not exactly rocket science or brain surgery or even deconstructionism. It is, however, a reasonable idea, that we work best, not in reaction to every little thing that presents itself but out of an awareness of our goals and with an eye toward spending our time only on those things which will help us gain our goals, our ends. if we are hoping to get to L.A. we don’t do well to get on the bus to New York just because it’s the one that shows up first and has all of our friends on it.
“Begin with the end in mind.” It’s common sense.
It’s also a window through which we might see the transfiguration and seeing it for ourselves, take hold this vision for our lives–we who live and work and play in these days after the resurrection.
The transfigured person of Jesus is the Jesus of eternal glory in the fullness of God’s Kingdom. Just in case you don’t pick up on this reality, imagining that Jesus is merely performing some fantastic shape-shifting act, Jesus is accompanied by Moses and Elijah, two who’s presence in the heavenly Kingdom cannot be questioned. According to the Scriptures, Moses was buried by God and Elijah became the inspiration for that beloved American spiritual, “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”, when a fiery chariot from heaven carried him bodily out of space and time before Elisha, his awestruck student. And just to be clear, this scene is not so much of Elijah and Moses returning to earth to check in with Jesus and see how things are going as much as it is that of the disciples witnessing the revealing of the physical reality of heaven with Jesus–a condition that, one might observe, is always a part of the real presence of Jesus among us. For a brief time Peter and James and John see Jesus in the full glory of his heavenly reign. This is the one by who’s power the universe was made. This is the one who the creeds describe as “seated at the right hand of the Father,” his destination upon the completion of his mission in creation’s history.
What’s more, this vision is not intended for the disciples as some sort of sugar coating over a the bitter pill that will be the rest of Jesus’ ministry. Nor is it “a few exciting scenes from next week’s show” designed to keep the viewer from losing interest and the disciples from losing heart. Truly, if the goal of the Transfiguration of Jesus had been some sort of encouragement that would sustain them through what we have come to observe as the stories of Lent and Holy Week, then the Transfiguration was a complete bust, a waste of time, or, more properly, a waste of eternity. By the time of Jesus’ arrest and crucifixion two-thirds of this group are gone and the one remaining is there more out of sense of duty to his beloved teacher than from any hope that the events of the transfiguration would somehow come to mark Jesus’ violent demise.
The Transfiguration of Jesus is a a declaration of the goal of Jesus’ ministry–the fullness of the Kingdom of Heaven in the midst of creation so that all of creation might be taken back into the Kingdom of Heaven. This will be accomplished through an act of redemption. One of great value, namely the Son of God, will offer himself to destruction in exchange for the cosmos. He will, in his own death, buy back or redeem those who are held in the bondage of sin and death, satisfying the claim of sin over us. Further, in his own obedient offer of himself who is the word of life, he will break the back of death and himself be raised to the fullness of his glory, a glory that is anticipated in this mountain meeting of heaven and earth. Heaven is given in exchange for you. Here you see it. The goal of the coming cross, with all it’s agony and apparent defeat is the fullness of the Kingdom of Heaven, here evidenced.
Your cherished memories of mountaintop experiences might not be signs of your capitulation to the quest for an easy life after all. These moments when all things seem right and wonderful might also be markers that remind us of our fitness for the fulfillment of heaven, of our anticipation of realities for which we have been made.
Jesus said, “Don’t tell anyone until the Son of Man is raised,” and the disciples keep silent. We, however, live on the other side of the resurrection. We hear this story of Jesus transfiguration in a completely different context than Peter, even though we ourselves are preparing to mark another Lent. We are a people who already know our redemption in the sacrifice of Christ, having been marked in baptism by the sign of the cross and his resurrection. Here in this room, having witnessed the presence of Jesus as his word is proclaimed we are readying ourselves to welcome heaven back into history as bread is broken and wine poured. Jesus’ promised presence in bread and wine is declared and we receive his glory for ourselves just as surely as if Moses and Elijah were standing on either side of the table.
This is a wonderful reality.
You may, however, be wondering what it all might have to do with the kickoff of the World Relief Campaign. The Campus Chronicle newsletter said that I was going to be speaking on the topic of social justice. So far we’ve been spending our time in heaven, where, according to the Scriptures, world relief campaigns are unnecessary. Furthermore, what does this day or any day at the Chapel of the Resurrection have to with a Muslim-run children’s education center in Jakarta, Indonesia or anywhere else?
Just to be clear on this Transfiguration Sunday, it’s worth noting that while we have Abraham in common, Christians and Muslims don’t have Jesus in common. Not the Jesus who’s death on a cross is the reality of God’s death for the redemption of the cosmos. There is much of a common humanity that we share, but a theology of Jesus identity is not part of this. Of that we should be clear. It’s a matter of mutual respect.
Observing this, some might argue that a Christian community like the Chapel of the Resurrection has no business working with institutions of those who do not share our faith. Is it appropriate for Christians to be involved in acts of charity and mercy among those who believe differently? Is it right to partner for social justice with ones who’s faith is different from our own?
When Christians go to work in the world, regardless of the work, we go motivated by the obedient love of Jesus who offered himself for our salvation. We go as ones who recognize the divinity of Christ in the Transfiguration and who see that heavenly Kingdom breaking into human history in the presence of the Body of Christ. We go, regardless of whether we go to preach the Gospel or fix a leaking toilet, as witnesses of that divine presence. But surely, as we go, we know that not all with whom we work, not all whom we serve, share our motivation–not right to that Christlike core. So we go, says the Church, so that the world in seeing the love of Jesus in our actions might, by the Spirit’s power, find such a love compelling for their own lives and so join us in faith.
Indeed.
“But would we go,” asked Valpo Mom Julie Lutz, herself a missionary in Papua New Guinea, just a short plane ride from the Jakarta we seek to serve, “would we go and serve even if we knew ahead of time that none would see in our actions the signs of the Gospel and so be converted?’
I pray that your answer is “yes.”
I pray that your answer is “yes”, not because I’m wishy-washy on the doctrines of salvation or find Jesus to be an optional deity, not fully necessary for redemption. I pray that the answer is “yes” because we are witnesses of the peaceful and heavenly Kingdom in Christ Jesus. As ones who are taking hold of our inheritance and are daily in the process of becoming who we are under the eternally transfigured Christ, it is also our calling to work for the manifestation of such a heavenly reality in the little glimmers of justice and the small victories of compassion. We go to work because it is such little mountaintops that we seek.
The Center for Pasantren and Democracy Studies in Jakarta is just such an opportunity. The “pasantren” is a tradition of Islamic boarding schools in Indonesia. Elsewhere, these boarding schools are called “madrasa”. We’ve become sadly aware of the radical agenda of many of the madrasa in Pakistan and elsewhere, where the original agenda of education for the community’s most vulnerable has been twisted to serve the end of a violently radical vision of Islam. In Jakarta, the folks behind the Center with which we are partnering are seeking to bring up a school that is faithful to the earlier tradition of service to the poor through practical and peaceful education. What’s more, in pluralistic Indonesia, where a fledgling democracy is working to find it’s way, the Center seeks to teach an openness to the ideas of religions of others as a means of vaccinating the youth of Jakarta against the assaults of radical Islam. Considering global events, this seems to be the right project at the right time.
1) Every act of service done in the name of Jesus is an expression of the love of God which we have come to know in the person of Jesus Christ
2) The Center seeks to create and support an attitude of openness and religious tolerance in Jakarta and all of Indonesia. This is good for our sisters and brothers in Christ who live and worship there.
3) Given present day realities, the support of voices of moderation in the Islamic world is an act of good citizenship.
We hope that, as the Transfiguration people gathered in this place, you’ll agree with us and join the work.
One Bride for Seven Brothers · 240 days ago by James Wetzstein
How do you work the account of Jesus and the Sadducees debating the finer points of the doctrine of the resurrection into a talk about the Community of the Cross of Nails and the Christian call to reconciliation? Listen here.
Shane Claiborne was cool. · 240 days ago by James Wetzstein
Shane Claiborne from The Simple Way came to campus to talk about another way of being. Listen here
A sermon on the occasion of my Uncle's funeral. · 277 days ago by James Wetzstein
Grace, mercy and peace be to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.
It’s certainly good to be among family and friends on a day such as this when we are both mourning the loss to us of one we love as well as celebrating his life among us. There have been lots of stories told as and updates shared as we renew ties of family and friendship and share our own memories of a beloved husband, brother, father, grandfather, great grandfather, uncle, pastor and friend. All of this has been a wonderful blessing.
So too, is it good to hear the testimony of others as they give their evidence of a life well lived by this one, our beloved Wally, who’s presence we already miss. There is much to learn about service and commitment and the way of living a life of love from his example.
But there is more, yet, that is worthy of our joy, something even more wondrous to fuel our celebration and bring healing to our mourning than common memories, good stories and fine examples of love. What could be even more worthy of our attention than the fruit of such a rich, full tree of life? What could be more wonderful than our own cherished memories, especially now that of any heartache, failure or frustration has been polished away by the years and the retelling? What could be more profound than our sitting here, reflecting on this man’s priorities for his God and his family than our own quiet resolutions to live our lives more like he lived his?
The answer lies at the root of his rich life. The answer is that to which our beloved one’s whole life was lived as a response of thanksgiving. The answer is shared in the Scriptures that he choose for sharing at this occasion. It is a final testimony from one whose example so many of us treasure.
“But [in contrast to humans, who make love contingent on worthiness] God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. “ Romans 5:8
Certainly Wally chose this because he wanted you to know this for yourself, to remember this, especially on this day. But this truth of God’s love told out loud among us has even more blessing for us, more than Wally himself might have been able to imagine. For the sorry truth is that sometimes the examples of other’s lives can, for us, be a burden–especially when those people are seemingly tireless workers for the church with their unending commitment, their seemly bottomless devotion, their unflagging zeal for God, their unabashed love for others. Well, if this is what it takes for folks to gather around and tell good stories about us, perhaps you and I ought to just slip, unnoticed out the side door somewhere. Surrounded by such admiration, it’s even easy for us to conclude that God’s love for this man is tied up in his long list of cherished attributes and accomplishments. And there’s even Biblical evidence to back up this conclusion. Isn’t it Jesus, himself, who tells the story where the master says, “Well done, good an faithful slave; you were faithful in a few things, I will put you in charge of many things; enter into the joy of your master.”
Certainly no one will quarrel with an assessment of “well done” in this case? It’s but a small step to conclude that our certainty of his eternal life is somehow tied up Wally’s exemplary track record of love and service.
But this is a faint hope, for even if such a reward for good behavior is true this day for my Uncle Wally, it’s not likely true for me, or you. And certainly there are enough Lutherans in this room, folks who have been well raised on a certain skepticism for so-called “good works”, who wrinkle their noses at suggestions that one can live a life so well as to receive a heavenly reward. You were never taken in by this line of thinking.
No, it wasn’t Wally’s work that has earned him a place in heaven and so that now we are filled with hope and consolation, it was his faith.
This seems, at first, to be a better way of thinking, a firmer place of hoping. After all, right there on the cover of today’s service folder, surrounding that heart and cross-centered rose are the words “FAITH ALONE”. It is on this beloved one’s faith that we lay our hope of a blessed reunion. It is on his unwavering testimony of God that our joy is found. Yet if we stop here again only with what we saw in this man, we will miss what is most excellent, most wonderful. Further, if we stop again with what we saw in this man, we are, in our own heart of hearts, found wanting. One of us yesterday, as we related a cherished story, made this confession: “Well, I’m not the Christian that I should be, let’s leave it at that.” And who of us shouldn’t, in all honesty, say the same thing about ourselves?
So, what is more wonderful? It is the truth that was at the core of Wally’s life and hope. It is the fact that neither, he, nor I, nor any of you, can do anything to attract God’s love and favor. The reading from Romans is crystal clear on this point. God’s great love gives us Jesus and Jesus gives us heaven.
This, it should be noted, is not the way we typically behave. In earlier verses Paul concedes that sacrificial love is not unheard of among us. Some have even dared to die for the sake of others. He acknowledges this. And we, this day, highly aware of the bonds of family, would even add that the love that parents have for their children could rise to such occasions of sacrifice. But even among our families, expressions of self-giving, of sacrifice have their limits. This passage from Romans calls us to attend to the limitless love of God that is ours. Before the ministry of Jesus even begins, before the first miracle, before the first step on the road from Palm Sunday to Good Friday, God’s love for you is such that Jesus is offered as a life, given in exchange for yours. This offering is full and complete. It is not given on credit, so that you might, later make good on God’s love with your life of love and service. It’s not provisional, offered as a stopgap until you get your life, under God, together. It’s not contingent on your ability to muster enough righteousness to prove yourself worthy of such a gift. It doesn’t matter if you’re happy with yourself and what you’ve managed to make of your life. It doesn’t matter if you’d like to do a hundred things over again only differently. The truth is that while you were still a sinner, God loved you enough to give you Jesus for your very own life.
That’s the love that we celebrate today because that is the love that is at the root of our hope. It is the love that was at the root of this man’s life. It’s the means by which you can understand everything else that he did or said. And now that love is even more profoundly at the center of his experience. In a short while we will dine at the table of our Lord. We will eat the meal where the abundance of life and forgiveness is enough for our continuing journey. But as we eat and drink, we don’t do so alone. Our eating and drinking at God’s table not only brings us into communion with one another, it also draws us into dining with those who have gone before, with those who are gathered around the throne of the Lamb singing the eternal songs of praise and feasting at the unending banquet of heaven. This day as we gather, we are conscious that such a heavenly gathering now numbers in its company our beloved Wally who joins his son Merrill along with his siblings, Margaret, Harold and George and their parents, my sister Susan and all the countless others that are counted by this assembly as lost to us. We may mourn their absence, but in this blessed communion, they are not far from us for we are all in Christ.
In Wally’s shirt pocket, right there in the casket, is a copy of a free ticket that he was known to hand out. On the front it reads, “This is a free ticket. It’s not good for anything, it’s just free.” As was observed yesterday, sometimes he was just silly.
But on the other side it wasn’t silly at all. “A man may go to heaven,” it reads, “without health, family, learning, culture, wealth, a great name, big earning, beauty, without friends, or a ten thousand other things. But he can never go to heaven without Christ” And then, just so you weren’t having to take Pastor Wetzstein’s word for it, the ticket goes on to quote Jesus who said “I am the way, the truth and the life, no many cometh unto the father, but by me.” (John 14:6) And then there was his phone number, in case you wanted to call him up and talk about it.
That’s what this day is all about.
In the name of Jesus. Amen
Comment [1]
Faith and Service Travel Grants Available · 290 days ago by James Wetzstein
Grants to help underwrite Valparaiso University student travel are available through the Lilly Project for the Theological Exploration of Vocation (PTEV).
Grants will be awarded to assist student groups planning to explore their faith through service and social justice initiatives. These grants will support travel to a site away from campus where students will engage in service, prayer, and reflection.
Grants will be awarded for Spring and Summer 2008.
The deadline for applications is November 15, 2007.
For a copy of the application see here.
The Chapel Baptistry and the Death of Jesus · 317 days ago by James Wetzstein
One of the blessings of being in the Chapel of the Resurrection is the fact that the people who designed and built the place had in mind to use the building to teach the faith. The baptistry is a great example of this idea of teaching the faith through the building. The baptistry is a working sculpture of Romans 6:1-11.
Do you see that this room is a tomb? The spiral stairs descend to the bottom of the grave and there in the center is the font. It is your death with Christ. This font is the tomb of your old, sinful, self. In baptism, you take on the death of Christ for yourself and your sinful self is destroyed in Christ’s sacrifice for your sake. But the stairs don’t just descend to the bottom of this tomb. Winding around a column of “bronzed” wind, the stairs ascend to the light in the ceiling as a sign of the promise of your resurrection with Christ in his resurrection. This is your new identity.
This is why Paul can dare to write that you have nothing more to do with sin, for your sin has been done away with in the death of Jesus and you have risen to a new life that is freed from sin.
On days when we’re strong in our faith and strong in our desire to live a Christ-like life, these words of Paul and our identity as saints are an encouragement to us. They are a reminder of the strong foundation on which we stand and live our lives of praise.
But our days aren’t always those days.
This side of eternity, our saintful self is always struggling against the continuing reality of our sinful self. Though we live in the promise of heaven, we’re not there yet.
When we fail to live up to our new identity or when the damage of this world inflicts and infects our lives, either because of someone else’s willful action or simply because disease or disappointment seem to hold the day, St. Paul’s words of encouragement can sound like a burden or an indictment. Paul has said “your life is free from sin” and yet, you know in your heart that it hasn’t been true.
As sin’s hold causes you to sink low, bring yourself to this place and allow that sinking feeling to take you down these spiral stairs, lower and lower, till you’re at rock bottom.
Then in this rock, this font, find the death of Jesus waiting for you at the deepest, darkest depths of sadness. There is no place to which you can sink that the death of Christ is not already there to greet you.
Then, with a hand in the water of your grave, remember the cross that has claimed you for life out of death and find in Christ’s sacrifice also Christ’s resurrection and the promise of your own.
Then, ascending again, leave this grave to rejoin the life that God has given you to live on the way to heaven.
In the name of Jesus. Amen.
It's nice to be told. · 325 days ago by James Wetzstein
I found this simple message stuck to my door this week.
Sure we spend nearly all day, every day telling other people this same truth. It’s nice to have it told back.
Thanks.
Indiana Jones indeed · 326 days ago by James Wetzstein
The closing scenes of Raiders of the Lost Ark might lead you to believe that the Ark of the Covenant is buried in some Smithsonian warehouse.
Coptic Christians in Ethiopia have long claimed to host the Ark in Axum.
Both claims are now proven false.
We have conclusive proof that the Ark of the Covenant is in Hobart, Indiana.
Who knew?
