We have two weddings two weeks in a row here at 2PC.
It's a great ministry, to host people who are making a big step in their lives, and to pray with them as they do it.
At this church, we allow two non-member weddings a month. People arrange them up to a year and a half in advance because the building and the sanctuary are gorgeous. Members can do weddings whenever they want, but we keep it to two for non-members because of the hard work it takes! The minister has to be here on Friday and Saturday (usually our days off!), the office staff has lots of extra coordinating to do during the week and on Saturday (also her day off), and the maintenance/janitorial staff have to come in.
Last weekend as I participated in the service, I tried not to cry because I kept thinking of my own upcoming wedding and how excited I am! This weekend, maybe I'll be a bit better at it.
29 May 2008
05 May 2008
Children's Worship
I got to see worship from two new perspectives yesterday. I sat in the pews for the first service while John McClure preached and Jim Kitchens served as second pastor... I sat in the back and then moved up to the balcony to lurk and look. Worship is different from the pews. It's easier to feel part of the community and to see and hear what's going on (in spite of our excellent sound system, the seats just behind the podium are the worst from which to hear anything!). It's easier to reach those with whom we'd like to pass the peace of Christ, and it's nice to sing with all those voices around us.
Next I got to sit in on Children's Worship. what a great time! Cathy Hoop led the children in some songs that included sign language, and we all heard a neat story about God's presence with us. We learned about the Ascension of Jesus, as he rose up in a cloud, and we saw smoke rise up from a candle as Cathy put it out. Then we got to play! Holy play is a special thing, and I hope we grown-ups never forget how to do it!
In both services, I heard joyful noises made to the Lord, and I heard the stories of God's love in Jesus. Thanks for letting me enjoy a different perspective yesterday!
Next I got to sit in on Children's Worship. what a great time! Cathy Hoop led the children in some songs that included sign language, and we all heard a neat story about God's presence with us. We learned about the Ascension of Jesus, as he rose up in a cloud, and we saw smoke rise up from a candle as Cathy put it out. Then we got to play! Holy play is a special thing, and I hope we grown-ups never forget how to do it!
In both services, I heard joyful noises made to the Lord, and I heard the stories of God's love in Jesus. Thanks for letting me enjoy a different perspective yesterday!
24 April 2008
21 April 2008
Sunday's Sermon
That’s good, that’s real good.
And God saw that it was good.
This time of year,
it’s so easy to see what God was talking about.
The trees are budding,
the flowers all blooming,
the green seems greener and the blue seems bluer.
The sun is warmer and the breeze is breezier.
As Calvin says,
“We cannot open our eyes
without being compelled to see God.”
And we can see that it’s good.
I imagine that a lot of you
have some special place,
some special vacation spot in your life,
when you’ve been outside,
and you just knew God.
For me, growing up going to the Jersey shore,
(this is post-hypodermic needle era, by the way),
and walking out on the beach,
seeing the big waves that never end,
seeing the bluish grayish
that stretches out until it meets the sky,
feeling the warm sun on my skin,
smelling the smell of the salt in the air,
and tasting it when I finally get in the cold water…
at the beach I can know how BIG God is,
and how constant.
And I can sense how small I am,
and how temporary.
The mountains, too.
The big trees that seem to have been there forever,
towering over me,
the sun filtering in through the leaves
so that everything looks a little greenish,
the smell of soil and fallen leaves,
the silence until there’s a breeze,
and then that rustling whisper of the trees
that sounds like that still small voice,
and when you’re standing up high,
and you can see for miles,
and you have just a glimmer of how big God may be…
in the mountains,
I can know God in a different way,
I can know just how surrounded by God I am.
Those experiences that bring us closer to God,
Those are why we love Montreat.
Those are why we love the shore.
Whether we realize it or not,
in nature, we’re encountering God.
If we think of God as an artist,
then it’s in these places
we’re hearing God’s symphonies,
we’re seeing God’s best murals,
we’re touching God’s greatest tapestries,
and smelling and tasting
God’s most gourmet aromas and flavors.
When we’re in the city,
we’re coming into less and less contact with God.
The sights we see are created by God’s creatures,
us people,
so they’re a step removed from God’s own handiwork.
We’re less in touch with God
because we’re surrounded by streets and traffic,
and it makes it easier to forget
that we’re part of creation too.
It makes it easier to forget how small we are,
and how God is always surrounding us.
And when we forget who we are to God,
we forget who we are.
That’s where that prayer of confession is coming from.
We have forgotten who we are,
Because we can’t see what God has made,
because we’ve forgotten who God is.
And to paraphrase Calvin again
(gosh, you’d think I was Presbyterian or something),
when we know God, we know ourselves,
and when we know ourselves, we know God.
The Isaiah passage talks about a city.
It says, “The city of chaos is broken down,
every house is shut up”
And it says, “Desolation is left in the city,
the gates are battered into ruins”
Some folks think it’s talking about Jerusalem,
and some say it’s talking about Babylon.
But one of the interpretations I read
said it’s talking about all cities.
And it’s easy to see that city life
detaches us from the earth,
detaches us from the Creation that God called “Good.”
And when we’re so detached from it,
it’s easy to see that we don’t know
how we affect it.
We don’t know the ways that the choices we make
and the things we do
affect Creation.
But Isaiah tells us.
The earth dries up and withers, it says.
The earth lies polluted under its inhabitants, it says.
The wine dries up, the vine languishes, it says.
These are the consequences of our actions.
One of the hardest parts about this
is that the destruction of creation
wasn’t really our idea.
We didn’t build the cities,
we aren’t the ones who invented cars
and who made it so we have to drive everywhere we go.
We aren’t the ones who ship produce
half way around the earth
to get it at the cheapest price,
and we sure aren’t the ones
who spray the pesticides all over it.
We weren’t the ones who
“paved paradise and put up a parking lot,”
to quote Joni Mitchell.
Or in the words of Billy Joel,
“We didn’t start the fire.”
When we talk about sin,
too often we’re talking about our own individual actions.
I lied yesterday to so-and-so, I sinned.
But sin is also about a brokenness
that is just part of society.
It’s in “the system.”
And intentionally or unintentionally,
we’re all part of that system.
We eat the groceries that were farmed far away,
we turn on the lights,
we drive to our jobs or to school,
because, well, we have to.
That’s how “the system” makes us live.
Last week Jim said
he wasn’t going to ask us to start a commune,
and I’m saying the same thing this week.
I’m not saying we need to plow down the building
and start an organic farm here.
I am saying we could plant a vegetable garden.
I’m not saying we should all stop driving to church.
I am saying we could carpool.
I’m not saying we should chain ourselves to trees.
I am saying we could plant some.
One of the ways to break sin is to be aware of it.
And to repent.
And we repent from the sin
of defacing creation
by doing what we can to restore it.
By doing what we can to preserve it.
By doing what we can to not participate in the system.
And I think we’re all learning
That this isn’t just about small changes anymore.
They’re a start, but we’ve gotten to the point
where we need to make more changes, and bigger changes.
Maybe you’re not a big fan of the green movement.
Maybe you think this is all a bunch of
tree-hugging hippie nonsense.
Or maybe you’re in the camp that says
God gave the planet to us,
we can do what we want with it.
That’s fine.
But I know you’re not racist.
And I know you care about the poor.
So I’ll tell you this.
Ethicist Emilie Townes writes,
“Toxic waste facilities are often located in southern communities that have high percentages of the poor,
the elderly, the young, and people of color.
There is an excessive concentration of uncontrolled
toxic waste sites in Black and Hispanic urban communities. Southern black rural communities
are home to large commercial hazardous waste landfills,
disposal facilities, and incinerators.
These businesses are touted as tools for economic revitalization and necessary for the safe conversion of toxic waste
to forms of safe energy and harmless compounds.
Often, local governments and the waste industries
minimize the impact of the contamination of the soils
outside the immediate site areas
and the effect this contamination has
on surface and subsurface water supplies.”
The systematic sin of destroying creation
is not only harsh on the planet.
It’s toxic to our neighbors,
to our brothers and sisters in Christ,
to God’s very children.
It’s not just about the trees.
It’s about the least of us,
The people that society casts aside,
and we all know that Jesus said,
“what you do to the least of these members of my family, you do to me.”
Maybe you’re in the camp that says
this earthly world doesn’t matter,
it’s all about the spirit,
and my spirit is right with God.
Well, let me tell you that none of the Hebrew Bible
is written with that kind of duality.
And none of the gospels separate the body and the spirit.
It’s not until Paul,
who is exposed to Greek thought patterns,
that we get this kind of talk in scripture.
But then after Paul’s letters,
in the book of Revelations,
the talk of the New Jerusalem?
That New Jerusalem is a physical place,
made of real water and gold and gemstones and trees.
It’s not floaty cloud spirit-realm fluff.
And remember that God became incarnate.
If God made this world
and then chose to become part of it for a bit,
how can we say it’s not important?
How can we say, we’re not of this world?
This world that is Jesus’ home.
Now, we can sit here
and be all depressed about the “system,”
and we can sit around and worry if we want.
It’s interesting that in the Isaiah passage
one of the things the prophet mentions
is a lack of mirth.
“All joy has reached its eventide;
the gladness of the earth is banished.”
And in fact, there’s a new disorder
out there these days called “eco-anxiety.”
It makes sense-
Polluted creeks and trash on the beach
aren’t nearly as uplifting,
and I mean uplifting as in,
“we lift our hearts to the Lord,”
those dirty polluted places aren’t nearly as uplifting
as a pristine piece of land or sea.
But we Christians, we don’t stop here.
We don’t stop with the pining away
or the woe is me.
Because we’re a people of the Good News.
We’re a people of hope.
We know that God is bigger than pollution,
and that God is bigger than death.
We know that our God
is a still-Creating God,
who does not sit idly by.
And so we’ll believe
that we can make a difference.
We’ll believe that when we repent,
when we turn away from our sin,
that we can be part of healing.
Every can or bottle we recycle,
every tree we plant,
every light bulb we replace with an energy efficient one,
every low-flow shower head we use,
every carbon offset credit we buy,
and every time we carpool,
we know we’re turning the system around.
Every piece of paper that we reuse for scrap paper,
every peel we throw into the compost bin,
every light we turn off when we leave a room
offers hope.
We’ll do these things not because it’s trendy,
not because it’ll save us money on the electric bill,
but because we want to know God,
and remember who we are.
There’s a group of people in this church
who are already committed to making this change.
They’re thinking about ways to make this church into
a place that is more kind to Creation,
and they’re thinking about ways
we can take these principles home
and to our workplaces.
They’re going to make a difference.
They’re going to teach us about Creation.
And in teaching us about Creation,
they’ll teach us about God.
They’ll remind us who we are.
Friends, the joy can be restored.
Creation can be made whole.
We can have justice.
There is hope.
Because our God is a God of life,
And therefore we are a people of life.
Our God is a God of the resurrection,
And therefore we’re a people of hope and joy.
And if God said that it was good,
That it was worth being a part of,
Then it’s worth being a part
of making it good again.
Amen.
And God saw that it was good.
This time of year,
it’s so easy to see what God was talking about.
The trees are budding,
the flowers all blooming,
the green seems greener and the blue seems bluer.
The sun is warmer and the breeze is breezier.
As Calvin says,
“We cannot open our eyes
without being compelled to see God.”
And we can see that it’s good.
I imagine that a lot of you
have some special place,
some special vacation spot in your life,
when you’ve been outside,
and you just knew God.
For me, growing up going to the Jersey shore,
(this is post-hypodermic needle era, by the way),
and walking out on the beach,
seeing the big waves that never end,
seeing the bluish grayish
that stretches out until it meets the sky,
feeling the warm sun on my skin,
smelling the smell of the salt in the air,
and tasting it when I finally get in the cold water…
at the beach I can know how BIG God is,
and how constant.
And I can sense how small I am,
and how temporary.
The mountains, too.
The big trees that seem to have been there forever,
towering over me,
the sun filtering in through the leaves
so that everything looks a little greenish,
the smell of soil and fallen leaves,
the silence until there’s a breeze,
and then that rustling whisper of the trees
that sounds like that still small voice,
and when you’re standing up high,
and you can see for miles,
and you have just a glimmer of how big God may be…
in the mountains,
I can know God in a different way,
I can know just how surrounded by God I am.
Those experiences that bring us closer to God,
Those are why we love Montreat.
Those are why we love the shore.
Whether we realize it or not,
in nature, we’re encountering God.
If we think of God as an artist,
then it’s in these places
we’re hearing God’s symphonies,
we’re seeing God’s best murals,
we’re touching God’s greatest tapestries,
and smelling and tasting
God’s most gourmet aromas and flavors.
When we’re in the city,
we’re coming into less and less contact with God.
The sights we see are created by God’s creatures,
us people,
so they’re a step removed from God’s own handiwork.
We’re less in touch with God
because we’re surrounded by streets and traffic,
and it makes it easier to forget
that we’re part of creation too.
It makes it easier to forget how small we are,
and how God is always surrounding us.
And when we forget who we are to God,
we forget who we are.
That’s where that prayer of confession is coming from.
We have forgotten who we are,
Because we can’t see what God has made,
because we’ve forgotten who God is.
And to paraphrase Calvin again
(gosh, you’d think I was Presbyterian or something),
when we know God, we know ourselves,
and when we know ourselves, we know God.
The Isaiah passage talks about a city.
It says, “The city of chaos is broken down,
every house is shut up”
And it says, “Desolation is left in the city,
the gates are battered into ruins”
Some folks think it’s talking about Jerusalem,
and some say it’s talking about Babylon.
But one of the interpretations I read
said it’s talking about all cities.
And it’s easy to see that city life
detaches us from the earth,
detaches us from the Creation that God called “Good.”
And when we’re so detached from it,
it’s easy to see that we don’t know
how we affect it.
We don’t know the ways that the choices we make
and the things we do
affect Creation.
But Isaiah tells us.
The earth dries up and withers, it says.
The earth lies polluted under its inhabitants, it says.
The wine dries up, the vine languishes, it says.
These are the consequences of our actions.
One of the hardest parts about this
is that the destruction of creation
wasn’t really our idea.
We didn’t build the cities,
we aren’t the ones who invented cars
and who made it so we have to drive everywhere we go.
We aren’t the ones who ship produce
half way around the earth
to get it at the cheapest price,
and we sure aren’t the ones
who spray the pesticides all over it.
We weren’t the ones who
“paved paradise and put up a parking lot,”
to quote Joni Mitchell.
Or in the words of Billy Joel,
“We didn’t start the fire.”
When we talk about sin,
too often we’re talking about our own individual actions.
I lied yesterday to so-and-so, I sinned.
But sin is also about a brokenness
that is just part of society.
It’s in “the system.”
And intentionally or unintentionally,
we’re all part of that system.
We eat the groceries that were farmed far away,
we turn on the lights,
we drive to our jobs or to school,
because, well, we have to.
That’s how “the system” makes us live.
Last week Jim said
he wasn’t going to ask us to start a commune,
and I’m saying the same thing this week.
I’m not saying we need to plow down the building
and start an organic farm here.
I am saying we could plant a vegetable garden.
I’m not saying we should all stop driving to church.
I am saying we could carpool.
I’m not saying we should chain ourselves to trees.
I am saying we could plant some.
One of the ways to break sin is to be aware of it.
And to repent.
And we repent from the sin
of defacing creation
by doing what we can to restore it.
By doing what we can to preserve it.
By doing what we can to not participate in the system.
And I think we’re all learning
That this isn’t just about small changes anymore.
They’re a start, but we’ve gotten to the point
where we need to make more changes, and bigger changes.
Maybe you’re not a big fan of the green movement.
Maybe you think this is all a bunch of
tree-hugging hippie nonsense.
Or maybe you’re in the camp that says
God gave the planet to us,
we can do what we want with it.
That’s fine.
But I know you’re not racist.
And I know you care about the poor.
So I’ll tell you this.
Ethicist Emilie Townes writes,
“Toxic waste facilities are often located in southern communities that have high percentages of the poor,
the elderly, the young, and people of color.
There is an excessive concentration of uncontrolled
toxic waste sites in Black and Hispanic urban communities. Southern black rural communities
are home to large commercial hazardous waste landfills,
disposal facilities, and incinerators.
These businesses are touted as tools for economic revitalization and necessary for the safe conversion of toxic waste
to forms of safe energy and harmless compounds.
Often, local governments and the waste industries
minimize the impact of the contamination of the soils
outside the immediate site areas
and the effect this contamination has
on surface and subsurface water supplies.”
The systematic sin of destroying creation
is not only harsh on the planet.
It’s toxic to our neighbors,
to our brothers and sisters in Christ,
to God’s very children.
It’s not just about the trees.
It’s about the least of us,
The people that society casts aside,
and we all know that Jesus said,
“what you do to the least of these members of my family, you do to me.”
Maybe you’re in the camp that says
this earthly world doesn’t matter,
it’s all about the spirit,
and my spirit is right with God.
Well, let me tell you that none of the Hebrew Bible
is written with that kind of duality.
And none of the gospels separate the body and the spirit.
It’s not until Paul,
who is exposed to Greek thought patterns,
that we get this kind of talk in scripture.
But then after Paul’s letters,
in the book of Revelations,
the talk of the New Jerusalem?
That New Jerusalem is a physical place,
made of real water and gold and gemstones and trees.
It’s not floaty cloud spirit-realm fluff.
And remember that God became incarnate.
If God made this world
and then chose to become part of it for a bit,
how can we say it’s not important?
How can we say, we’re not of this world?
This world that is Jesus’ home.
Now, we can sit here
and be all depressed about the “system,”
and we can sit around and worry if we want.
It’s interesting that in the Isaiah passage
one of the things the prophet mentions
is a lack of mirth.
“All joy has reached its eventide;
the gladness of the earth is banished.”
And in fact, there’s a new disorder
out there these days called “eco-anxiety.”
It makes sense-
Polluted creeks and trash on the beach
aren’t nearly as uplifting,
and I mean uplifting as in,
“we lift our hearts to the Lord,”
those dirty polluted places aren’t nearly as uplifting
as a pristine piece of land or sea.
But we Christians, we don’t stop here.
We don’t stop with the pining away
or the woe is me.
Because we’re a people of the Good News.
We’re a people of hope.
We know that God is bigger than pollution,
and that God is bigger than death.
We know that our God
is a still-Creating God,
who does not sit idly by.
And so we’ll believe
that we can make a difference.
We’ll believe that when we repent,
when we turn away from our sin,
that we can be part of healing.
Every can or bottle we recycle,
every tree we plant,
every light bulb we replace with an energy efficient one,
every low-flow shower head we use,
every carbon offset credit we buy,
and every time we carpool,
we know we’re turning the system around.
Every piece of paper that we reuse for scrap paper,
every peel we throw into the compost bin,
every light we turn off when we leave a room
offers hope.
We’ll do these things not because it’s trendy,
not because it’ll save us money on the electric bill,
but because we want to know God,
and remember who we are.
There’s a group of people in this church
who are already committed to making this change.
They’re thinking about ways to make this church into
a place that is more kind to Creation,
and they’re thinking about ways
we can take these principles home
and to our workplaces.
They’re going to make a difference.
They’re going to teach us about Creation.
And in teaching us about Creation,
they’ll teach us about God.
They’ll remind us who we are.
Friends, the joy can be restored.
Creation can be made whole.
We can have justice.
There is hope.
Because our God is a God of life,
And therefore we are a people of life.
Our God is a God of the resurrection,
And therefore we’re a people of hope and joy.
And if God said that it was good,
That it was worth being a part of,
Then it’s worth being a part
of making it good again.
Amen.
06 April 2008
Youth Sunday
The Youth led worship this Sunday in a visually, intellectually, and aurally stimulating service in which I was honored to serve communion.
They read the story of "the two of them" on the road to Emmaus, who have an encounter with the risen Jesus, but don't immediately recognize him. The two talk with him for a while and then invite him to their home for dinner, offering that he stay the night as well. In the breaking of the bread that the two provided for him, Jesus' identity is revealed to them.
The students interpreted this as a call to serve the stranger. In providing hospitality to a stranger, Christ is revealed to us.
They celebrated Second Presbyterian Church's work in Nashville and in the world, and they celebrated moments that they've seen Jesus revealed in their lives. They wrote songs that creatively expressed the sentiment of the passage and their interpretations. As a church, we should be proud of these youth! We are doing well with our baptismal vows to them, when we said we'd raise them to experience faith and to know God.
Peace be with you,
Jeannie
They read the story of "the two of them" on the road to Emmaus, who have an encounter with the risen Jesus, but don't immediately recognize him. The two talk with him for a while and then invite him to their home for dinner, offering that he stay the night as well. In the breaking of the bread that the two provided for him, Jesus' identity is revealed to them.
The students interpreted this as a call to serve the stranger. In providing hospitality to a stranger, Christ is revealed to us.
They celebrated Second Presbyterian Church's work in Nashville and in the world, and they celebrated moments that they've seen Jesus revealed in their lives. They wrote songs that creatively expressed the sentiment of the passage and their interpretations. As a church, we should be proud of these youth! We are doing well with our baptismal vows to them, when we said we'd raise them to experience faith and to know God.
Peace be with you,
Jeannie
28 March 2008
Installation
I'm getting installed on Saturday!
This is a worship service in which I promise to do my best (with God's help) at Second, and Second promises to do their best (with God's help) to take care of me. We make this "relationship" official.
I have enjoyed getting to know 2PC! I'm very excited to be working with youth, outreach, membership care and fellowship committees. It has been tough getting to know everyone's names, but I think I'm making progress!
One of the things I've already learned to love about 2PC is how much everyone chips in. The volunteers for each event really do a great job, and it seems like there are many people who are willing to help out. On that note, we could use some folks for a few specific tasks in the office during the week. If you are available or know someone who is, let us know!
The role of Minister is interesting... I'm part pastor, part priest, and part prophet. That means I'm here to comfort and care for the congregation, but also perform "priestly" duties like serve the Lord's Supper and Baptize folks. Finally, I help us all listen to God's voice to hear conviction for our next actions. The literature of the Reformation talks about the priesthood of all believers... that we're all equally in tune with hearing God's voice, and we're all capable of caring for each other and participating in the sacraments. 2PC does a great job living this out, and I'm glad to participate in this with you!
Peace be with you!
Jeannie
This is a worship service in which I promise to do my best (with God's help) at Second, and Second promises to do their best (with God's help) to take care of me. We make this "relationship" official.
I have enjoyed getting to know 2PC! I'm very excited to be working with youth, outreach, membership care and fellowship committees. It has been tough getting to know everyone's names, but I think I'm making progress!
One of the things I've already learned to love about 2PC is how much everyone chips in. The volunteers for each event really do a great job, and it seems like there are many people who are willing to help out. On that note, we could use some folks for a few specific tasks in the office during the week. If you are available or know someone who is, let us know!
The role of Minister is interesting... I'm part pastor, part priest, and part prophet. That means I'm here to comfort and care for the congregation, but also perform "priestly" duties like serve the Lord's Supper and Baptize folks. Finally, I help us all listen to God's voice to hear conviction for our next actions. The literature of the Reformation talks about the priesthood of all believers... that we're all equally in tune with hearing God's voice, and we're all capable of caring for each other and participating in the sacraments. 2PC does a great job living this out, and I'm glad to participate in this with you!
Peace be with you!
Jeannie
20 March 2008
Maundy Thursday
My short sermon tonight:
Tonight we ate the Seder meal
We experienced the tastes and smells of each food as we eat it.
We smelled the bitterness of the slavery that the Jews suffered
And the saltiness of the tears shed
And the egg that symbolizes new life
As we move from eating together in one meal to another meal,
As we prepare to wash one another’s feet,
I want to read for you another story from this same gospel.
John 12:1-3
Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. 2 There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. 3 Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus' feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.
In this story, Mary comes to Jesus
Mary is the sister of Lazarus,
The man Jesus just raised from the dead in the chapter before.
They’re eating,
Maybe to celebrate Lazarus’ life,
Or maybe it’s just supper time.
But at some point in the meal,
She gets on her hands and knees before him,
She breaks open some very expensive perfume
and washes his feet with the oil
and her hair.
Think about the smells.
There are sweaty people who have been walking for a long time,
That’s bad enough
But remember that Lazarus was raised form the dead not too long ago
And the last smell that was mentioned in this gospel
Is when Martha, the other sister of Lazarus,
warns Jesus that to open his tomb
is to smell the stench of a man four days dead.
The odor of death is still lurking as we get to this passage.
Happily, Jesus returns Lazarus to life
And now, thanks to Mary,
The smell in the room is not the scent of death,
She has conquered the odor of death.
Instead, they smell a scent of worship and celebration.
We read tonight the story of Jesus,
Who was perhaps inspired by Mary’s action.
He also washed the feet of those he loved.
He, like Mary, took on a posture of humility.
The smells from the meal in tonight’s story are not the same
As the smells from Mary, Martha and Lazarus’ meal.
Jesus washed away the dirt and the stink of their feet
But the rich perfume smells of Mary’s act are missing.
Instead, he simply made them clean.
And that cleansing
Of just their feet
Was all they needed.
Maybe these bitter herbs,
Instead of being just for the bitterness of the Israelites’ slavery,
Are also for the bitterness of Jesus’ betrayal,
Which happened this night…
Maybe the saltiness is to remember the tears,
Not just of the sadness of leaving Egypt,
But the tears that were cried by Jesus followers, by Mary and Martha and Lazarus,
At Jesus’ crucifixion.
As we share another meal
The Lord’s Supper,
Holy Communion,
Let’s remember the sweet, sweet smell of life
Let the taste of the simple matzo
And the sweet juice
Remind us of the banquet to come
In the Promised Land, in God’s Heavenly Kingdom.
Let’s taste the new life that we are given
As Jesus triumphs over sin
And makes us all clean
As Jesus triumphs over death
And makes us all have abundant life
Tonight we ate the Seder meal
We experienced the tastes and smells of each food as we eat it.
We smelled the bitterness of the slavery that the Jews suffered
And the saltiness of the tears shed
And the egg that symbolizes new life
As we move from eating together in one meal to another meal,
As we prepare to wash one another’s feet,
I want to read for you another story from this same gospel.
John 12:1-3
Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. 2 There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. 3 Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus' feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.
In this story, Mary comes to Jesus
Mary is the sister of Lazarus,
The man Jesus just raised from the dead in the chapter before.
They’re eating,
Maybe to celebrate Lazarus’ life,
Or maybe it’s just supper time.
But at some point in the meal,
She gets on her hands and knees before him,
She breaks open some very expensive perfume
and washes his feet with the oil
and her hair.
Think about the smells.
There are sweaty people who have been walking for a long time,
That’s bad enough
But remember that Lazarus was raised form the dead not too long ago
And the last smell that was mentioned in this gospel
Is when Martha, the other sister of Lazarus,
warns Jesus that to open his tomb
is to smell the stench of a man four days dead.
The odor of death is still lurking as we get to this passage.
Happily, Jesus returns Lazarus to life
And now, thanks to Mary,
The smell in the room is not the scent of death,
She has conquered the odor of death.
Instead, they smell a scent of worship and celebration.
We read tonight the story of Jesus,
Who was perhaps inspired by Mary’s action.
He also washed the feet of those he loved.
He, like Mary, took on a posture of humility.
The smells from the meal in tonight’s story are not the same
As the smells from Mary, Martha and Lazarus’ meal.
Jesus washed away the dirt and the stink of their feet
But the rich perfume smells of Mary’s act are missing.
Instead, he simply made them clean.
And that cleansing
Of just their feet
Was all they needed.
Maybe these bitter herbs,
Instead of being just for the bitterness of the Israelites’ slavery,
Are also for the bitterness of Jesus’ betrayal,
Which happened this night…
Maybe the saltiness is to remember the tears,
Not just of the sadness of leaving Egypt,
But the tears that were cried by Jesus followers, by Mary and Martha and Lazarus,
At Jesus’ crucifixion.
As we share another meal
The Lord’s Supper,
Holy Communion,
Let’s remember the sweet, sweet smell of life
Let the taste of the simple matzo
And the sweet juice
Remind us of the banquet to come
In the Promised Land, in God’s Heavenly Kingdom.
Let’s taste the new life that we are given
As Jesus triumphs over sin
And makes us all clean
As Jesus triumphs over death
And makes us all have abundant life
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