Daily Devotions

While they were eating, he took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to them, and said, “Take; this is my body.” Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, and all of them drank from it. He said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many. Truly I tell you, I will never again drink of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.” Mark 14:22-25

The first congregation I was called to serve was Zion Lutheran Church in Houston, Texas. After all these years, I still look back at those years with deep gratitude. Along with all the lessons I learned about ministry and life from the people of Zion, my senior pastor blessed me with a constant, invaluable, theological continuing education.

I’ll never forget the sermon where he drew a distinction between what is “necessary” and what is “essential.” He was talking about Baptism but the same distinction can be made with Holy Communion. In short, “necessary” means “required” while “essential” means “participating in the essence of something.” That distinction is a godsend as we wade through the coronavirus pandemic.

Jesus must have shocked his friends with his words, “Take; this is my body.” They knew what they were doing, they were celebrating the Passover meal. They had done it before, every year of their lives. It was a liturgical, ritualistic, meal. Every item of food meant something. Every taste triggered a memory. It was good to be together. But it got weird in a hurry.

“Take; this is my body.” “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many.” They weren’t expecting that. But they did as they were told. They ate. They drank. Together.

No one there was taking notes. No cameras captured the moment. The specific words he used weren’t necessary, but the shared experience was essential. They remembered his words. Long after he as gone, they gathered, again and again and again, around a table. Around bread and wine. They remembered. And, as they gathered, ate, and drank, they participated in the essence of Jesus’ continuing presence. To this day.

We haven’t conducted a public Sunday morning worship service at Faith since last March. Like every other community of faith, we have had to figure out what faithfulness looks like for us today. What is faithful to our calling as a Christian community? What is faithful to my calling as a pastor of the church? What is faithful to our calling to love our neighbors?

The practice we adopted was to literally bring the shared space of our sanctuary into the living spaces of our members. We worship, as we do so many other things these days, via ZOOM. When it comes time for Holy Communion, we say the Words of Institution over the bread and wine in the sanctuary as the people eat and drink at home. Our motives are pure. Jesus is present. We participate in the essence of his presence.

Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, I will never again drink of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.” Here again comes the image of the Great Feast as a metaphor for eternal life with God. “Kingdom” – or “Kindom” – is best understood as a relationship. Restored and whole. No tears. No grief. No heartache. No pain.

There will come a day when our congregation gathers again in the sanctuary. That will be a great day, but it will not be the ultimate day of restoration. Undoubtedly, when that day comes, some will choose to remain safely at home. Until there is a credible vaccine we won’t fully get to a new normal. The risks of this life will continue until we are gathered in the life to come.

But, until then, when we eat, and when we drink, and when we gather around the words of our Lord, we participate in the essence of his presence. Wherever we are.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, thank you for your wisdom in giving yourself to us in the common gifts of bread and wine. For calling us into the company of others. Continue to sustain us with mercy, forgiveness, courage, and hope. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

When it was evening, he came with the twelve. And when they had taken their places and were eating, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me, one who is eating with me.” They began to be distressed and to say to him one after another, “Surely, not I?”

He said to them, “It is one of the twelve, one who is dipping bread into the bowl with me. For the Son of Man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that one by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that one not to have been born.” Mark 14:17-21

How many times have you read these words? How many times have you heard this story? Why does it still have the power to turn your stomach?

Jesus and his disciples are sharing the Passover meal. A time of togetherness. Of remembering God’s faithfulness down through the ages. And then the totally unexpected happens. A verbal bomb drops into their midst. “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me, one who is eating with me.”

We understand what betrayal feels like. Somewhere along our journey, we might have been betrayed or we might have been the betrayer. A friend promised to keep a secret forever but posted it to Facebook. A spouse admits to an affair. A trusted co-worker spread gossip about you so that they could advance beyond you. A business partner stole your top customer to start their own firm. You find out that an employee whom you had been very kind to embezzled money.

Betrayal cuts deep precisely because it is both so unexpected and because it attacks you in a very vulnerable place. It leaves you feeling violated; you feel like a fool for being so trusting. That is why this story, when you slow down enough to let the words hit you, turns your stomach.

It hurts. You just want to get past it. You just want it to be over. You want to forget it. And yet this moment has been enshrined in history in the very words through which Jesus still assures us of his continuing presence in our lives.

In the night in which he was betrayed….

One of the biggest problems in the Christian faith is the reduction of the word “faith” to mean little more than intellectual assent to a specified set of doctrinal statements. We turn the faith into a head game. Then we argue with one another over the correctness of our doctrines. We forget that “faith” primarily means loyalty, fidelity, and trust.

The word “betrayed” brings us back down to earth. Down to the reality of vulnerable human relationships and how they can be abused, destroyed, when trust is broken. It reminds us that we have been both victim and victimizer. There is a little Judas in all of us.

Yet Jesus still made a place at the table for us. Judas ate too. But he didn’t yet know the whole story as we do. At least, as much of the story as has yet been told. Because you and I are still writing the story. Let our next chapter be rooted in loyalty, fidelity, and trust.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, we can sense the power of the betrayal which you experienced that night because, in our own ways, we have felt that too. Forgive us for straying, for betraying, the trust that you have given to us. We pray for mercy and for fresh resolve. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

On the first day of Unleavened Bread, when the Passover lamb is sacrificed, his disciples said to him, “Where do you want us to go and make the preparations for you to eat the Passover?” So he sent two of his disciples, saying to them, “Go into the city, and a man carrying a jar of water will meet you; follow him, and wherever he enters, say to the owner of the house, ‘The Teacher asks, Where is my guest room where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?’ He will show you a large room upstairs, furnished and ready. Make preparations for us there.”

So the disciples set out and went to the city, and found everything as he had told them; and they prepared the Passover meal. Mark 14:12-16

Get any group of old friends together and, at some point, a story will be told that begins with the words, “Hey, remember when…” Imaginations kick in. They won’t just remember the story in their minds, they will experience it again in their bodies.

Shared stories are evocative – laughter, tears, anger, pride. They are also constitutive – they create a sense of identity, togetherness, community.

The Passover story remains such a story among Jews. The traditions, the food, the setting, the memories, both at a family level and a communal level.

Hey, remember when our ancestors found themselves at the edge of starvation so they traveled to Egypt hoping to find food?

Hey, remember how shocked they were to find that Joseph had achieved such a powerful position that he was able to make provision for his family?

Remember how it was that the Egyptians turned on our people and reduced us to slavery?

Remember how God raised up Moses who confronted Pharaoh with the cry to “Let my people go!” And then, how God punished Egypt until finally giving the instructions to quickly prepare a lamb, spreading its blood on the doorposts of our homes, eating it fully clothed so we would be ready to run?

Remember how Pharaoh’s army drowned in the sea?

Remember how our people wandered in the wilderness for 40 long, hard years? How God provided food and water. How God provided the Law. How God brought us into the Promised Land. How God continued to reach out to us through the voices of the prophets. How God has promised to send us another Moses, the Messiah, who will right the wrongs of our lives.

These were the stories rolling around in the minds of the disciples of Jesus as they went on their errand to find a place where they would celebrate Passover together. Little did they know….

Passover teaches us that God wants to see the enslaved liberated, the oppressed set free.

Passover teaches us that God leads the way.

Passover teaches us that God will provide.

Passover teaches us that we will all get through this together.

Passover teaches us that the end of the story has not yet been told.

So the disciples set out and went to the city, and found everything as he had told them; and they prepared the Passover meal.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, thank you for the stories that make us who we are, and teach us who you are. Remind us that you lead us, not just TO the wilderness but THROUGH the wilderness, to a better place. May we, like your first disciples, always be willing to do what we can to continue your work in the world. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Then Judas Iscariot, who was one of the twelve, went to the chief priests in order to betray him to them. When they heard it, they were greatly pleased, and promised to give him money. So he began to look for an opportunity to betray him. Mark 14:10-11

Welcome to one of the mysteries around the death of Jesus. Why did Judas do it?

A common explanation is that Judas had become disillusioned with Jesus. His tipping point was seeing that woman wasting her expensive ointment in anointing Jesus’ head. As we read yesterday, “But some were there who said to one another in anger, ‘Why was the ointment wasted in this way? For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor.’ And they scolded her.”

This argument is bolstered by the little tidbit we get in John 12:6, “He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.” But before we land on that answer, we need to be aware that John’s gospel was written decades after Mark. John tells the Jesus story very differently; John specifically names Mary (of Mary and Martha fame) as the woman who anointed Jesus’ head.

Maybe John’s version is the result of people, from the very beginning, asking our same question. Why did Judas do it?

Matthew’s gospel, again, written after Mark, adds another tidbit to the “he did it for the money” argument. Matthew 26 tells us that, as we all remember, Judas did it for 30 pieces of silver. So maybe that is it then. Just follow the money.

But there is another possibility.

Maybe the question ought not be “Why did Judas do it?” but, instead, “Why does this story need a Judas in it?”

Mark doesn’t tell us anything about Judas’ motives. But Mark DOES tell us – we’ll get to those verses later this week – that Jesus knew it was coming. Mark wants us to know that Jesus knew that his betrayal to the Romans was an “inside job” just as much as it was a conspiracy led by the religious authorities. At the end, everyone yells “Crucify him.”

From the very beginning, the Judas story sent a message to all who would follow Jesus that the possibility of THEIR betrayal would be as devastating as anything that religious or political authorities might throw at them. Traitors are even worse than enemies.

The function of the role played by Judas is to hold all of us who seek to follow Jesus in our lives accountable to not selling Jesus out for our own selfish motives.

But I don’t really think it was about the money. Money, in and of itself, is nothing but a means of exchange. It isn’t money itself, it is what money signifies, what money buys, how money functions as an identifier of social standing and social worth, THAT is where money moves from being a means of exchange to exchanging one God for lesser, idolatrous, gods.

I think it runs even deeper than money (even though we are so easily wowed and cowed by people who have a lot of it.) I think the simplest explanation is that the religious authorities needed a scapegoat, a fall guy, someone who could take the heat off of them even as they hatched their self-serving, insidious, plan to rid the world of Jesus.

Does that really happen? Powerful people using less powerful people to blame, to deflect responsibility, to “get the job done” even as they gain “plausible deniability”? Of course it does. The question is, when it happens, would we be able to notice it?

Let those with eyes, see.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, Judas has long been for us a warning of how easily we can be misled into doing the wrong thing, even though we are convinced that we are right. Judas reminds us of the danger of turning money into an idol. And Judas convicts us in that we know how easily we can be swayed. Lead us not into temptation. Deliver us from evil. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

While he was at Bethany in the house of Simon the leper, as he sat at the table, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very costly ointment of nard, and she broke open the jar and poured the ointment on his head. But some were there who said to one another in anger, “Why was the ointment wasted in this way? For this ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii, and the money given to the poor.” And they scolded her.

But Jesus said, “Let her alone; why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me. For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to them whenever you wish; but you will not always have me. She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial. Truly I tell you, wherever the good news is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will be told in remembrance of her.” Mark 14:3-9

It has been said that you can learn a lot about a person by the company he keeps. As we walk with Jesus in the last week of his earthly life, we find him having dinner in the home of Simon the leper.

Simon the leper.

Today we know that leprosy (called Hansen’s Disease) is a bacterial infection that attacks the skin, the peripheral nerves, the upper respiratory tract, and the eyes. Left untreated, it can be horribly disfiguring. It is not very contagious – you need to have very close and repeated contact with an infectious person to catch it. And it is both treatable and curable.

They didn’t know any of that in Jesus’ day. As far as people knew back then, a leper had been cursed by God and was a danger to the community. Lepers were outcasts, suffering both from the effects of their illness and the pain of social dislocation.

In terms of social rejection and public fear, until the coronavirus pandemic, the HIV/AIDS crisis is the closest most of us have known to the experience of leprosy in Jesus’ day. In terms of health, it was simply a dangerous and deadly virus. But left in the hands of people with their own agenda, it was cast as a shameful illness and a sign of God’s wrath. Doubly tragic.

It says a lot about Jesus that he chose to have dinner in a leper’s home.

Suddenly the party is crashed by an unnamed woman who surprises everyone by anointing Jesus’ head with oil. “Messiah” means “anointed one.” The Hebrew expectation was that the Messiah be a king, a political leader, who would liberate the people and usher in an era of peace. Jesus praises her for her action – everybody else thinks it was a waste of money.

A leper. An unnamed woman. And a group of people who seemingly have no idea who Jesus is or what Jesus is up to. Quite the motley crew.

Whatever you think about Jesus, leave room in your understanding to appreciate the company he kept.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, yes, we still remember the woman who lovingly anointed your head. We can imagine the rich smell that filled the room. May our minds and hearts continually be open to the ways that you always show up in the most surprising places, among the most unsuspecting people. Especially now as we taste of the fear, the loneliness, and the misunderstandings around the coronavirus. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

It was two days before the Passover and the festival of Unleavened Bread. The chief priests and the scribes were looking for a way to arrest Jesus by stealth and kill him; for they said, “Not during the festival, or there may be a riot among the people.” Mark 14:1-2

Irony: [noun] “The expression of one’s meaning by using language that normally signifies the opposite, typically for humorous or emphatic effect.”

We all know the story at the root of the celebration of Passover – God rescuing God’s people from slavery in Egypt and leading them toward the Promised Land. Over the years, that memory came to include many other memories of God’s continuing work of bringing people out of slavery into freedom, of sustaining their lives in difficult times, of sending prophets to bring both challenge and hope.

Passover is a festival celebrated at home, around a table, with family and special guests. An empty chair is left for Elijah, a visible symbol that we are not just looking back at a storied past but we are looking forward to God’s continued work. Jewish families are encouraged to invite Gentile friends. My wife and I have been invited to such gatherings and they are beautiful.

The closest observance in secular America to the meanings of Passover is the traditions surrounding Thanksgiving. We eat ceremonial food. We gather with extended families and maybe some special guests. We remember the romanticized – but still wonderful and vitally important – story of the Pilgrims being sustained by the local knowledge and support of the Indigenous people who helped them. In addition to thanking their hosts, we can trust that the Pilgrims first and foremost offered thanks to God.

Until the decision the congregation I serve made to become a multi-cultural, bilingual, congregation with intentional outreach to native Mandarin Chinese, I never realized the significance of Chinese New Year. But it is very close to Thanksgiving and Passover. People go home to their families. They eat traditional food. They celebrate their gratitude for life and each other. Had it not been for the coronavirus, last January we would have had nearly 500 people gathering to celebrate the Chinese New Year at Faith Lutheran Church – Chinese speakers, English speakers, Spanish speakers, church members, guests, folks from the neighborhood, young and old.

Do you see the key themes?

God’s redemptive activity in the world. Gratitude. Hope. Encouragement. Family. Home. Plenty of room for special guests, for strangers. The only proper language is the shared language of love.

All of that is why pilgrims flocked to Jerusalem for the Passover festival. It was why the city was jam-packed with excited people. Children who had been looking forward to the festival for weeks.

Here is the irony – in the midst of all of that, the only thing on the minds of the chief priests and scribes, precisely those who ought to have known better, was finding a sneaky way to kill Jesus.

Next week we will follow Jesus into Jerusalem. Today, let us focus on the goodness of God in the world – the gratitude, the togetherness, the family of humanity, the promise of release to the oppressed, the constant need for the sustaining providence of God – even as we keep our eyes open for those who would rather just use people for their own selfish ends.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, you are love. Where there is love, you are there. Where there is darkness, evil, and hate, you are the Light of the world. Shine in and through us as we bear witness to you in a world that still wants you out of the way. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

“But about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. Beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come.

It is like a man going on a journey, when he leaves home and puts his slaves in charge, each with his work, and commands the doorkeeper to be on the watch. Therefore, keep awake—for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly.

And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.” Mark 13:32-37

This might not be fair to the text but, the truth is, we know the rest of the story. We know what is coming next. We know that Jesus would soon take his disciples to the Garden of Gethsemane. Again, he would tell them “Keep awake.” And what happens next? Every time Jesus returns to them he finds them fast asleep.

I realize mine is not the only interpretation of the “end times” stuff here in Mark. As I said yesterday, I think the end times warnings are about challenging us to be accountable for our lives in these times, throughout all times. The end will come – but it is far more likely that our own personal “ends” will come long before the universe implodes. The challenge to accountability thus speaks personally to each of us.

Similarly, the challenge to “keep awake” is a challenge to vigilance. To be aware of what is happening around us. To be attentive to the voice of the Holy Spirit within us.

Back in the olden days when I was an athlete, every sport had its own version of the “ready position.” All included the basic fundamentals – knees slightly bent and shoulder width apart, on the balls of the feet rather than back on the heels, your head on a swivel, constantly attentive to what is happening around you, staying mentally alert and physically prepared. But notice, that is the “ready” position. You don’t STAY there but you always RETURN there to be ready for what happens next.

It would be very easy for us to hear these words and succumb to worry and anxiety. Lord knows there is much to be anxious about these days! But worry and anxiety do us no good. They get us stuck. They make us want to hide. They isolate us.

Getting in the “ready position”, spiritually, emotionally, intellectually, and physically, does just the opposite. It draws us out of ourselves and sets us up to handle what lies before us. It frees us to do what only we can do, the next right thing.

“We don’t know what the future holds, but we know WHO holds the future.” The wisdom in that simple line can speak encouragement into our lives every day.

Dr. King said that “the universe bends toward justice.” We trust that. And even more, we realize that WE are part of that universe. Our lives, our actions, rooted in justice, thus participates in this universal bending toward the justice that God desires.

All we can do is to do all we can do. God is in that. And God can handle it.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, let us know be deceived or distracted by all that takes our eyes off the truth of your love and the meaning of our lives. Keep us vigilant in our expectation that you are present, active, involved, and powerful in all the seasons of our lives. Let us not look to escape but to redeem the time given to us by heeding your call to alertness. In Jesus’ name. Amen.