Crossing the threshold.

Lucy peered out the wardrobe, her body wrapped warm by the surrounding furs—her face alive with the cold wintery air that greeted her nostrils. That is how I imagine eight year old Lucy from the Chronicles of Narnia as she gazes into an unknown world of wonder. There she stands, poised to cross a threshold from one world to another for the first time. There is a moment, and just a moment, when she needs to decide whether or not to enter. You need not be familiar with C.S. Lewis’ popular children’s novel. It presents a magical world, Narnia, a world of two stories. The first story is the one that thrusts itself upon young Lucy. The air is cold. It is winter; it is always winter. (Perhaps many of us can relate to that feeling after this long winter of 2014-2015.) The world is ruled by the White Witch and her nervous subjects submit to her, not quite knowing how she will turn. It is, by all measures, the real world. The world that Lucy can touch, and smell, and see, and hear, and taste. The second story offers a world that at first blush appears imaginary. The kind of imaginary world an eight year old would create. It is filled with talking animals the likes of a faun. It tells the story of the Land of Narnia before the White Witch had cast her spell, and it promises that someday winter will end, and all be healed. How, you might ask? The all-powerful lion Aslan will shatter the spell!

It is a wonderful story, and the novel draws you in as soon as you cross the threshold of the wardrobe with Lucy. It is not long before you too, want the second story to be true. There is something in all these talking animals are saying that is right. And while you and Lucy cannot see it, or touch, or taste it…it somehow seems to make sense. It is not only the story, but the animals, it is something you see in them—it is hope.

In the midst of the story with Lucy you begin to realize that she has been immediately welcomed—she belongs. In this “belonging,” she, and we with her, watch the animals “behave” and live with hope in the midst of frozen tundra. They are quite frankly, infectious. It is through being welcomed to belong and being surrounded by this behavior of hope, that quite quickly you find yourself believing—and praying—that the second story is true.

Consider another story, we read it in the Gospel…Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb…she goes and gets Peter and John and they run to the tomb. John bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed…Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying…then after speaking with the angels…she turned around and saw Jesus standing there…Jesus said to her, “Mary!”

Peter, John and Mary crossed the threshold that day…they went from one view of the world to another. Jesus will spend some number of days on earth being with a large number of people. These post-Resurrection moments will spread the news. On Pentecost, fifty days from today, God’s Holy Spirit will be poured out and the Church will be born. And people, people from all walks of life, will be invited to come and be welcomed to this life of hope—they will be invited to belong. These newcomers will watch a ragtag group of freshly minted disciples try and behave like their Risen Master. The New Testament chronicles that there will be disagreements and struggles, but through it all they will try and model their lives like Jesus. Over time this rebel group will grow amid the other world—the world of the Roman Emperor. With the exception of the Mediterranean climate, it is a world very similar to the White Witch’s world of Narnia. So these new people of hope will live a story in the face of a different story…and over time the number of people living that story, living as rebels, will grow to about 2 million people in about 200 years.

Today we celebrate this moment of crossing the threshold. We celebrate the moment in time when the stone was rolled away so that we might ourselves cross into a new world, a real world—and become people who live a story of hope. I must tell you I went to church for some 30 years before I figured this out. My church experience was not one of belonging, allowing me to see how people behaved—those people who believed that there even was such a threshold to cross. My experience was one of first believing. I was to accept all the precepts first—and then I was to behave—somehow I never got to feeling as if I belonged. In my world the second story, the story of hope got turned upside down. Maybe that happened to you? You should not be surprised, just read the Gospels. Jesus spent his public ministry pointing out to the religious of the day how they had turned God’s Story upside down…he pointed that out knowing all along he was going to shatter that world and put it right. And this, this shattering is the core of the story—the center piece—on which it, and all the world turns. That Jesus Christ has defeated sin and death. His tomb is empty. He stands and invites all to cross the threshold and live into this reality.

All of us today are somewhere in relation to this threshold. For those who have crossed it and accepted the hope—then I urge us to remember to not turn it upside down. To welcome those who are curious, to invite them to see you (and me) struggle to behave to follow Jesus, to let them understand what you believe. To those who are standing at the threshold, peering in, I say welcome! Come, sit with us for a while, feel as if you belong. And finally for those who once came into this world only to turn about and run out, to run out feeling either judged or rejected, please accept my apology—we don’t always get this “living a life of hope” the right way round—but it you might dare to cross the threshold again, I pray you will not only find hope, but find Him who calls you by name.

David Collum, Dean—The Cathedral of All Saints, Easter 2015

WAITING OVER BEING BUSY

HOLY SATURDAY LENT 2015

Today we read Mark 15:42—47. In our modern day and in the church this is a hard day to replicate for at least three reasons. By replicate I mean create the sense of what this day was for those first followers before that first Easter Day…and I will get to that in a moment. The three distractions have to do first with our world. It is Saturday, and it is finally getting warm. People are just busy; we are surrounded by busyness. Next, we know that Christ did rise; there is not the deep ache we feel when tragedy strikes and we know not what lay ahead. Finally there is the need in the church to “get ready” for Easter Day. When I was in a smaller place it seemed that we could keep that compact, but now, now it just takes more.

To cite the above three items as “distractions” begs the question, distractions from what?” I would say sitting, thinking, praying…from waiting. I am sure you have gone through a tragedy or two in your life. You somehow fall asleep after that long day, and then you wake up—numb. That is what the first Holy Saturday must have been like. All they hoped for, all they dreamed—dashed, crushed by a cross.

I want to suggest for Easter to take hold, that we need to use the space Holy Saturday provides. We need to spend some time in the barrenness of a world where we know not what lay ahead, where we ponder what it would be like to live without hope; without Jesus. We need to wait in the barrenness.

Why? you might ask. I want to suggest to create space in us; in our hearts and minds and souls. I can remember numbness after the loss of both my parents. There was a void. Holy Saturday can clear away from our hearts and minds and souls all that has filled our lives and pushed God out. Holy Saturday can be the last "bit" of Lent, so that Easter Joy can flood every fiber of our being tomorrow. 

As I write these words it is early. For whatever reason I could not sleep. We live on a busy street, but for a few moments there was quiet, broken only by a lone bird chirping. It gave time and space for my thoughts…it gave some time to wait.

You and I cannot escape those three distractions I noted above. We cannot pretend Jesus did not rise (praise God for that knowledge). We can however take just a few minutes and sit and wait. 

SLOW DOWN…YOU MOVE TOO FAST

GOOD FRIDAY LENT 2015

Today we read Mark 15:1-41. We’ve come to it—Jesus' Crucifixion. The whole of Lent has been building to this point. We walked with Jesus. Heard his teaching. Read of his miraculous acts. Grimaced at all the disrespectful moments of those who challenged and rejected him. Stood awe struck at the Last Supper and Garden. Now we’ve come to it. Jesus will be tried by Pilate, scourged, and crucified. In Mark’s telling he cries out “My God, my God, why has thou forsaken me.”

It is that terrible day we call Good Friday. We know why it is good, but that does not mean we like it. Throughout my life it has always been an odd day. A day that seemed by all that was around me to have slowed down. I grew up when all the shops on Main Street closed from Noon to 3 p.m. Everything slowed down because God was hanging on a Cross. The world is different now. Today in Albany the weather is over 60 degrees…the weatherman said not once, but over and over on the morning show to, “Get outside today and have fun…on Sunday it will be cold again.” For me that is a backwards thought. Today is the day it is cold…the coldness of torture and death…Sunday is the day of warm light pouring forth from the tomb. The warmth today certainly felt good, but today is a day to not merely remember Jesus’ death, but to slow down and enter it…so no long blog today…just some thoughts to encourage you to not rush past the Cross.

REMEMBERING DINNER

MAUNDAY THURSDAY LENT 2015

It is the morning of Maundy Thursday and I want to ask you if there is a special Easter dinner or meal or food you remember? Can you close your eyes right now and picture it, even smell it. Today we read Mark 14:12—26. Tonight at our service we will wash feet, hear God’s Word, receive God’s Sacrament, and the strip bare the Altar. It is a dramatic service as we start with a meal and end having scattered after a confrontation in the Garden. We “lost our breath” in the Garden yesterday. This morning I want to focus on one item—dinner.

Have you thought about my question? Can you remember an Easter meal, or a special food? Can you smell it? I’m serious. Pause right now, close your eyes and try. Why do this? Because tonight Jesus gives us Holy Communion…or the Lord’s Supper if you prefer that title. Regardless of what it is called, here is what Jesus said, “Do this in remembrance of me.

The specific Greek word written in English so we can pronounce it is anamnesis. It is used a whapping four times in the New Testament—the times Jesus gives us the sacred meal. So what does it mean? It means to deeply remember? Do you have moments in your life you can deeply remember? Moments that you ponder and wonder about? Maybe it is a moment that you remember and enjoy. One of the deep purposes of the Communion service is to invite us to close our eyes and remember Jesus being at the Table with us…the Table hours before his Passion. Don't miss that point: at dinner with us! Meals are about more than the food, they are about being together.

This is not a new process. If you have ever been to a Jewish Seder there are children who ask questions about the meal and an adult answers. The answers always begin with a phrase like, “Because when we were slaves in Egypt…” Now this Seder could be taking place anywhere in the world and at any time in history…but the person answering says, “when we were…” They, at their meal, are entering the meal, as if they are travelling through time and are in the huts and houses of Egypt.

When we attend a Communion service we are not spectators, but participants. When you next go to a Communion service I invite to close your eyes and imagine you are there, in the Upper Room at the Last Supper. (Whenever I do I seem to get the Da Vinci picture in my mind…) Imagine you see Jesus, you see Peter, you see Judas leave…you see Jesus lift the bread and the cup. But here is the “deal” as it were. You unlike the disciples know what is coming…they do not. You know all that awaits Jesus—and so does he. He knows. And he is still there giving—giving us this meal not only so that we may forever be nourished by him, but that we may also at the meal be in His Presence.

CATCHING YOUR BREATH…MAYBE

WEDNESDAY AFTER PALM SUNDAY IN LENT 2015

It is Holy Wednesday and today I want to look at Mark 14:53—65. Tomorrow will start the Triduum—the Sacred Three Days. In a way I feel like this is a day I am “catching my breath.” It is a day where I think (I’ll know at the end of the day) that I have a little bit of time to put the final touches on the services of those sacred days.

Which is possibly why Bishop Wright has invited us to ponder twelve verses—the trial of Jesus. Tomorrow, Maundy Thursday, we will have much to consider and do: foot washing, Holy Communion, Gethsemane. And then there is Good Friday with the Passion and Crucifixion. Yesterday we considered staying awake in the Garden…today we gaze upon the trial before the religious of the day. As I sat with my Bible opened, looking at the passage, what struck me was the “red letters” versus the “black letters.” The “black letters” capture the words of the high priest, the chief priests, elders, scribes, and their congregation. There is panic and confusion and chaos in the scene. Mob rule is the order of the day as Jesus is struck and spit upon. Jesus utters one sentence: “I am, and you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of Power, and coming with the clouds of heaven.” He is quoting Daniel 7 and Psalm 110 as he claims to be the Messiah. Their reaction is expected. They are blind to Jesus. Unable able to see him, they mock and insult; they spit and strike.

If we take a moment and look at Jesus—simply look at what he says and what he does—he invites one of two responses…he is not a good moral teacher…here is a man who claims to be the Son, to be the Judge. It is no wonder that the world either rejects or adores…it makes his method of salvation…that of death on a Cross…to be even more striking. As I sit in the midst of this trial, my breath is taken away…so much for catching it.