Daily Devotions

Meanwhile the people were waiting for Zechariah, and wondered at his delay in the sanctuary. When he did come out, he could not speak to them, and they realized that he had seen a vision in the sanctuary. He kept motioning to them and remained unable to speak. When his time of service was ended, he went to his home.

After those days his wife Elizabeth conceived, and for five months she remained in seclusion. She said, “This is what the Lord has done for me when he looked favorably on me and took away the disgrace I have endured among my people.” Luke 1:21-25

Last night we had our monthly Church Council meeting at church. We have been an “internet only” congregation since the beginning of the national lockdown back in March. Meanwhile, the virus has raged away. We spent the first hour in conversation about when and how we might begin public worship again. A long explanation has been prepared for the congregation to inform them how the Church Council is thinking about things like metrics for re-opening and what people can expect when we finally do.

This has been a hard time for everybody.

Cut through all the “stuff” that goes into congregation’s worship life and it always comes down to relationships with God and others. There is something comforting, encouraging, and challenging about gathering in the same space. Seeing familiar faces. Excitement to see new faces. Conversation before and after. Checking in with one another as we all pass through the struggles and joys of life.

Into all of this comes the liturgy. The same words heard over and over. The rituals and movement. Voices, musical instruments, water, bread, and wine. Worship faithfully for long enough, surrender to it, give yourself to it, and it becomes who you are. The rhythms of a life following Jesus.

Then – BANG – it is suddenly over.

The people gathered at the temple that day where doing “what they had always done before.” But something went wrong. Zechariah was delayed. Then he came back to the crowd, speechless. Charades didn’t help. Zechariah was embarrassed. The crowd was disappointed. They all went back home.

What the crowd didn’t know was that God was up to something big. God was moving and big changes were just around the corner.

Someday we will gather again for worship in the sanctuary. Someday the virus will be a bad memory but not as immediately fearful. We’re not there yet.

Zechariah’s “someday” was a shared experience with Elizabeth. She was doing the heavy lifting. His job was to be supportive. Both of them were hanging on to hope.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, sometimes we are overwhelmed by the words flying through the air. Sometimes life leaves us speechless. Zechariah and Elizabeth lived through those long months of isolation and preparation, we too are living through a long period of disconnection. Help us make the best of it, never losing hope. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Once when he was serving as priest before God and his section was on duty, he was chosen by lot, according to the custom of the priesthood, to enter the sanctuary of the Lord and offer incense. Now at the time of the incense offering, the whole assembly of the people was praying outside.

Then there appeared to him an angel of the Lord, standing at the right side of the altar of incense. When Zechariah saw him, he was terrified; and fear overwhelmed him. But the angel said to him, “Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will name him John. You will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord. He must never drink wine or strong drink; even before his birth he will be filled with the Holy Spirit. He will turn many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God. With the spirit and power of Elijah he will go before him, to turn the hearts of parents to their children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous, to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.”

Zechariah said to the angel, “How will I know that this is so? For I am an old man, and my wife is getting on in years.” The angel replied, “I am Gabriel. I stand in the presence of God, and I have been sent to speak to you and to bring you this good news. But now, because you did not believe my words, which will be fulfilled in their time, you will become mute, unable to speak, until the day these things occur.” Luke 1:8-20

Psalm 141 says, “Let my prayer be counted as incense before you, and the lifting up of my hands as an evening sacrifice.” These are beautiful images. If you have never been in a worship experience that includes the use of incense, you are missing something. To see the curls of smoke carrying prayers to God. To be enveloped in the smells that fill the room. With that image in mind, join Zechariah in his encounter with Gabriel.

Zechariah isn’t alone. He emerges from a crowd of people, all there to pray. And, while Zechariah is there as a worship leader, his prayer is very personal. He prays for a son. All of those gathered pray for their personal needs. Their desires join with the prayers of everyone else and it becomes a chorus. Zechariah’s prayers will soon be answered.

The Greek word for “angel” literally means “messenger.” When angels appear in the Bible, they are not the cute little porcelain figurines your grandma had on a side table. They are big, powerful, and not to be trifled with. No wonder Zechariah was afraid when Gabriel showed up. He won’t be the last one whom Gabriel causes to be afraid.

Like angels, fear carries powerful messages into our lives. Fear is our reaction to potential calamity. Fear is a self-protective emotion. Fear is a good thing. But, like all good things, there is a dark side to fear. In the wrong hangs, fear can be used to manipulate us in powerfully destructive ways.

While Gabriel’s presence evokes fear, his message invites joy and gratitude. Zechariah and Elizabeth are to have a son. A special son. One like Elijah who will bring good news to God’s people. But was it all too good to be true? Could it even be possible?

It seems harsh that Gabriel would punish Zechariah with silence. But we get the idea. There is tension in expectation. Even when our fears are quieted, they don’t completely go away. They simmer. Zechariah’s fear/joy would simmer in silence. God was up to something good.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, rekindle our trust in the power of prayer. May we, like the crowd from which Zechariah emerged, join our prayers in a chorus of praise and supplication to you. And may we always be open to the messages that you send to us, even contemplating them in silence as they grow within us. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

In the days of King Herod of Judea, there was a priest named Zechariah, who belonged to the priestly order of Abijah. His wife was a descendant of Aaron, and her name was Elizabeth. Both of them were righteous before God, living blamelessly according to all the commandments and regulations of the Lord. But they had no children, because Elizabeth was barren, and both were getting on in years. Luke 1:5-7

Everyone has a “story behind the story.” Ancestry.com has built their entire business model around helping people discover more about who they are by looking back at who they were. Sometimes those discoveries happen on a therapist’s couch. All of us carry ghosts in our attics.

Luke begins his orderly account by reaching back to the longer memory banks of the people of Israel. Certainly here, to Zechariah and Elizabeth, but their station in life ties them to heroes of the faith reaching all the way back to Abraham. They are faithful people who have suffered the heartache (and shame) of childlessness. Which, of course, is blamed on Elizabeth being “barren” without regard to the math that requires two to tango.

Of these two, heartache and shame, it is shame that carries the most spiritual power and social weight. For any couple seeking to have a baby, watching all of their friends get there first, these two forces weigh upon them. Even today, with all of our medical knowledge and technical skills, people still suffer from guilt and shame when they are unable to conceive or carry a baby to full term.

But in the Bible, it isn’t about the mechanics of making babies. In the Bible, the great surprise arises when God shows up to do the seemingly impossible. Not as a reward to the faithfulness of those praying to have a child someday, but as a sign that God is up to something significant in salvation history. Zechariah and Elizabeth take their place as instruments of God’s love.

God uses the powerless to do powerful things.

There are many moments and seasons in life that feel utterly hopeless. Shame continues to accuse us that there is something intrinsically wrong with us and therefore, we are the cause of the pain in which we live. Shame isolates and drives us into ourselves. Shame divides us and cuts us off. We go through the motions of life.

In such moments we need to hear a word from outside of ourselves that redirects us and reminds us that life is not about us. Even our own lives are not about us. We are all children of God and God is working in, through, and under all of us. The world might not remember us as the world today remembers characters like Zechariah and Elizabeth…but someone will. Someone always does. And those someone’s needed us. They will always appreciate us. And we might never know it.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, you have done mighty things through people who had no idea what you were up to in their lives. You continue to carry the promise and power of your love through common people doing common things, maybe especially in the most uncommon of places and ways. Encourage us with continued signs of your presence, even in our lives. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Since many have undertaken to set down an orderly account of the events that have been fulfilled among us, just as they were handed on to us by those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and servants of the word, I too decided, after investigating everything carefully from the very first, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may know the truth concerning the things about which you have been instructed. Luke 1:1-4

Ironically, as people around the United States continue to do diligent work in providing an “orderly account” of the recent election, we begin our walk through the Gospel according to Luke. He too seeks to provide an “orderly account” of the ministry of Jesus for the sake of “most excellent Theophilus.” We have a few things to think about before digging into Luke.

First, while the tradition has long assumed that Luke the gospel writer was the same Luke that traveled with the Apostle Paul, there are very good reasons to question that. (Click here to read more about such questions.) Given that Luke wrote with a copy of Mark in front of him, and that Mark was written in the early 70’s, and that the Apostle Paul never mentions any of the Jesus stories included in Luke’s gospel, it doesn’t seem possible that Luke the writer was also Luke the traveling companion.

Does it matter? To some people, especially to those who take a very literalistic approach to scripture, yes it does. It gives Luke/Acts an aura of authenticity in the same way as the assumptions – none of which I accept – that Mark was the young man who followed Paul, that Matthew was the tax collector who followed Jesus, and that the writer of John was the unnamed beloved disciple in John’s gospel. We don’t need baseless assumptions about authorship to discover the truth of what Luke writes; we can let the text itself do that.

Second, it is highly unlikely that “Theophilus” – to whom both the gospel of Luke and the Acts of the Apostles are dedicated – is a real human being. The name means “friend of God” or “one who loves God.” As far as I’m concerned, Luke wrote for you and me and every other person who reads what he wrote.

Third, Luke’s intention in writing is clearly laid out in these opening verses. He wants us to know the truth about Jesus. Luke emphasizes the importance of learning as a key to Christian discipleship. Luke wants us to follow the true Jesus, not the Jesus we want Jesus to be, or the Jesus we make up in our own heads. Luke would appreciate what John would write a decade or more later – “If you continue in my word, you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.”

And finally, I believe each of the gospels were written, like everything else that has ever been written, with a specific audience in mind, seeking to address specific issues. In short, Mark was written to address the question, “What do we do with a Messiah who dies?” Matthew, “How do we practice the faith without access to Torah or Temple?” John, “What about the Jews?” The big question for Luke is “What about the Gentiles?”

Let that question linger in the back of our minds as we slowly walk through Luke. Because Luke’s big question is addressed to us.

Let us pray: Gracious Lord, thank you for the faithfulness of all of the writers who have captured, commented on, and shared the good news of your love with all those who would follow. Help us see, through the words of your servant Luke, how faith in you looks in our daily lives, and how you would our own discipleship impact the world around us. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. They had been saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back.

As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.”

So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid. Mark 16:1-8

This is how the writer of the gospel of Mark, the earliest of the four gospels, chose to end his story: “So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”

Ironically, I’m writing this the morning after the presidential election. It looks very much like President Trump might get a second term in office but this has been a very different election year and many ballots still haven’t been counted. Due to the pandemic, an unprecedented number of votes were cast before election day. This too is not how we like elections to end.

No doubt your Bibles will have two other “endings” to Mark. There will be footnotes explaining that most scholars consider these to be later additions. Additions written by people like us (and like the writers of Matthew, Luke, and John) who didn’t like Mark’s ending either.

“So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”

But, in my life experience, Mark’s ending does a pretty good job of describing how most Christians respond to the resurrection.

My roommate in college was the son of the big Lutheran church in my hometown. One day he said something about how another friend of ours used to act in confirmation class. I was amazed! “HE was a member of Bethel?” “Yes he was,” said Joel, and then he named several of my other friends who were also members of the same church.

I thought I knew just about everything about those guys. But I never knew where they went to church. They never told me. They never invited me to anything. They never spoke a word to me about the Christian faith. Why? Didn’t they really believe any of it? Or, were they just afraid?

Look around at the congregation you participate in – how many people are there because someone from the congregation made a specific effort to share their faith with them, share their reasons why they believe as they do, why they made a commitment to a specific congregation, and then invited them to come and try it out for themselves?

Why are people so hesitant to talk about their faith?

We might not like Mark’s ending because it hits too close to home. But perhaps we should see here a bit of “reverse psychology”. Maybe if we were less fearful about sharing the faith as we understand it, other people who need God in their lives might be receptive to discovering anew that God has been waiting for them in Galilee all this time.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, forgive us our fears in sharing our faith. Give us the confidence to tell our own stories. And give us the willingness to invite others to come and see for themselves. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

When evening had come, and since it was the day of Preparation, that is, the day before the sabbath, Joseph of Arimathea, a respected member of the council, who was also himself waiting expectantly for the kingdom of God, went boldly to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus.

Then Pilate wondered if he were already dead; and summoning the centurion, he asked him whether he had been dead for some time. When he learned from the centurion that he was dead, he granted the body to Joseph.

Then Joseph bought a linen cloth, and taking down the body, wrapped it in the linen cloth, and laid it in a tomb that had been hewn out of the rock. He then rolled a stone against the door of the tomb. Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses saw where the body was laid. Mark 15:42-47

Jesus died and what happened? One of the soldiers who killed him came to believe that Jesus was the Son of God. Women who had been following him stayed faithfully with his body while the rest of the disciples fled. And Joseph of Arimathea, a prominent religious leader, asked Pilate if he could care for Jesus’ body.

Can you imagine the courage it took for Joseph to make that request? That isn’t how the Romans operated. A crucifixion was a political statement – no different than a lynching. Its intent was to terrify the populace so that no one would do anything to oppose Roman control. Once crucified, bodies would remain in place until they rotted away or the post was required for the next crucifixion. Yet Joseph asked that Jesus’ body be treated with respect.

Jesus died and immediately several lives were transformed.

We live in a very cynical age. We live in a time when truth itself has been cast aside. We don’t learn many things for ourselves, instead we repeat (Facebook calls it “share”) whatever we are being spoon-fed by the echo chambers of our tribes. We despair at the seeming inability for anyone to change their minds, to see things differently, to engage in serious thinking.

But with God, all things are possible!

It was early in the summer after my freshman year in college. For any number of reasons, most of them emotional projection, I had nothing good to say about religion. I didn’t choose to go to a Lutheran college because it was Lutheran – I went there because their basketball program was terrible and I was convinced I could help it be better. It was a good school and I knew that, if I did well, I could get into any law school that I chose. But God had a different path for me.

Earlier that year, my sister was almost killed in a horrific accident where she was run over by a car. She suffered terribly over the next several months but she was determined to heal. She would pray and sing Christian songs as the nurses cared for the terrible burns that covered much of her body. She went home in December. By the following spring, she had become an inspirational speaker and was invited to talk at a Fellowship of Christian Athletes gathering. She needed a driver and I took her.

That night my life changed forever. I had seen the crowd gathered that day. They all seemed to believe what I thought was a load of crap. But their witness got under my skin. Before I went to sleep that night, I prayed: God, you know I don’t believe in you, but all of those other people seemed like they do. I want what they have. Forgive me of my sins. Do whatever you want to with my life. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

I DO still believe in the power of conversion, of transformation. I DO still believe that God has the power to change peoples’ hearts and minds. If a Roman solider and Joseph of Arimathea could come around, so can anyone! Let go. Let God.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, we confess that there is so much that separates us from one another, so much that divides us, so many lies and misinformation that holds us captive. Forgive us. Open our hearts and minds to the power of your love. Take us, as we are, always to your glory and the welfare of your people. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

There were also women looking on from a distance; among them were Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James the younger and of Joses, and Salome. These used to follow him and provided for him when he was in Galilee; and there were many other women who had come up with him to Jerusalem. Mark 15:40-41

The first people mentioned after the death of Jesus, in all four gospels, are his female followers. That matters.

From the very beginning of the Jesus movement, women played a significant and central role. They were not simply by-standers, groupies, or domestic servants, they were leaders, role models, and beneficiaries of Jesus’ mission of freedom, justice, and inclusiveness. This is true for all four gospels – just read them and take note of what happens when Jesus engages with women.

So why is it that it took until 1970 for what was then two of the largest Lutheran bodies in the United States to ordain the first women to serve as pastors?

Plenty of people will quickly point out that, when Jesus initially chose the twelve disciples who would form his intimate circle, they were all male. From that they then conclude that all pastors should henceforth be required to be male. Simple. It was a simple argument that won the day for nearly two thousand years (as long you ignore the significant accomplishments and leadership demonstrated by women down through the ages.)

But those pesky Bible stories haven’t gone away. Here in Mark, the first of the four gospels to be written, women were very clearly the first witnesses to the resurrection. While the cast of characters varies among the gospels, they all agree that women were the first.

So why, given that women were the first witnesses, were they not allowed to stand in a pulpit and continue to bear witness to the resurrection down through the ages?

Power.

Patriarchy.

Sexism.

A very strong argument can be made that the revolutionary ministry of Jesus was, and continues to be, so radically counter-cultural that it naturally created a cultural backlash in which people immediately began to back-pedal on the implications of Jesus’ message for freedom, justice, and inclusiveness. That back-lash continues to this day.

This morning I am grateful for the witness of Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome, and all of the women who stand on their shoulders in courageously battling the powerful forces that seek to “keep women in their place.” Because all that is really at stake is the power that those forces refuse to relinquish – power that has nothing to do with the Gospel.

My bishop, Michael Rinehart, just posted a wonderfully well-written history of the ordination of women with a focus on the election of pastors who happen to be female to the role of bishop in our church. You can read it here (click to the link) – and you ought to.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, thank you for the continued efforts to draw forth the full implications of the power of your resurrection and the depth of your love for all people. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

When it was noon, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. At three o’clock Jesus cried out with a loud voice, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

When some of the bystanders heard it, they said, “Listen, he is calling for Elijah.” And someone ran, filled a sponge with sour wine, put it on a stick, and gave it to him to drink, saying, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to take him down.”

Then Jesus gave a loud cry and breathed his last. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom.

Now when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said, “Truly this man was God’s Son!” Mark 15:33-39

Many passages in the Bible bear witness to the power of God’s love, but none more powerfully than this one. Jesus, experiencing the utter absence of God, embodies the pure gracious merciful love of God’s presence. And the first person converted to belief in Jesus is one of the Roman soldiers who killed him.

The curtain of the temple was, indeed, torn in two.

The other time when the Greek word for “torn” was used was back in the very beginning, when Jesus was baptized. Mark 1:10-11, “And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

These “tearings” are the picture frame within which Jesus ministers to the world. Heaven and earth meet, in baptism, in crucifixion, and soon, in resurrection. These are the ultimate images of the “dividing walls” being torn down. The rejected One becomes the focus of all being accepted, just as they are, even a feared Roman soldier.

The last words that Jesus hears before breathing his last are the taunts of the crowd. He is offered a sponge full of sour wine from those who have no idea of the significance of the blood running down from Jesus’ torn up body. Would they act that way if they truly knew God’s love for them?

This weekend we will celebrate All Saints Day in worship. That day took on a special meaning for me back in 2006 when my father died in October. The Sunday when I came back to Houston to worship at Faith Lutheran was All Saints Day. Even though I was well aware of the theological and liturgical significance of remembering the “saints of God of all times and places”, that Sunday became personal.

We are living through a pandemic. Every corner of the earth is being touched with death. We might not live in fear but we are all aware that there is a lurking virus that knows no distinction between people. Millions are grieving lost loved ones who died alone, absent of human touch and consolation. Many are crying out, “Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?”

Today we claim the truth – God has not forsaken us, God is right here in, with, and around us. The dividing walls have been torn apart. Love wins.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, may we always see, in your death, the reality of life. May we see our sin exposed, and forgiven. May we see our hard hearts softened as we join with that unnamed solider in confessing our faith. Truly, you are the Son of God! In Jesus’ name. Amen.

It was nine o’clock in the morning when they crucified him. The inscription of the charge against him read, “The King of the Jews.” And with him they crucified two bandits, one on his right and one on his left. Those who passed by derided him, shaking their heads and saying, “Aha! You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself, and come down from the cross!”

In the same way the chief priests, along with the scribes, were also mocking him among themselves and saying, “He saved others; he cannot save himself. Let the Messiah, the King of Israel, come down from the cross now, so that we may see and believe.” Those who were crucified with him also taunted him. Mark 15:25-32

Everyone jumps on a bandwagon; everyone jumps from a sinking ship. As far as everyone else in the story is concerned, Jesus is a sinking ship. See how they run!

Jesus was executed by the political authorities. He was set up by the religious authorities. He was ridiculed by the disappointed, disillusioned, masses.

Crucifixion was a common Roman practice. It was a sheer exercise of power intended to intimidate the local populace. The heavy posts were planted alongside the major paths into a city or village. Once crucified, the bodies were left to rot until the post needed to be used again.

Every year when we remember this scene, we end our worship with a recitation of Psalm 22.

My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night, but find no rest.

Yet you are holy, enthroned on the praises of Israel. In you our ancestors trusted; they trusted, and you delivered them. To you they cried, and were saved; in you they trusted, and were not put to shame.

But I am a worm, and not human; scorned by others, and despised by the people. All who see me mock at me; they make mouths at me, they shake their heads; “Commit your cause to the Lord; let him deliver— let him rescue the one in whom he delights!”

Yet it was you who took me from the womb; you kept me safe on my mother’s breast. On you I was cast from my birth, and since my mother bore me you have been my God. Do not be far from me, for trouble is near and there is no one to help.

Many bulls encircle me, strong bulls of Bashan surround me; they open wide their mouths at me, like a ravening and roaring lion.

I am poured out like water, and all my bones are out of joint; my heart is like wax; it is melted within my breast; my mouth is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to my jaws; you lay me in the dust of death. For dogs are all around me; a company of evildoers encircles me. My hands and feet have shriveled; I can count all my bones. They stare and gloat over me; they divide my clothes among themselves, and for my clothing they cast lots.

But you, O Lord, do not be far away! O my help, come quickly to my aid!

The only aid that God would send were the words implanted in Jesus’ heart, the purpose for which he lost his life. Evil would win this battle – love will win the war.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, to the very end, despite such a horrendous cost, you were faithful. May we see in your death the path to life and may we see in the faces of those who humiliated you, our own humiliation. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Then the soldiers led him into the courtyard of the palace (that is, the governor’s headquarters); and they called together the whole cohort. And they clothed him in a purple cloak; and after twisting some thorns into a crown, they put it on him. And they began saluting him, “Hail, King of the Jews!” They struck his head with a reed, spat upon him, and knelt down in homage to him. After mocking him, they stripped him of the purple cloak and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him out to crucify him.

 They compelled a passer-by, who was coming in from the country, to carry his cross; it was Simon of Cyrene, the father of Alexander and Rufus. Then they brought Jesus to the place called Golgotha (which means the place of a skull). And they offered him wine mixed with myrrh; but he did not take it. And they crucified him, and divided his clothes among them, casting lots to decide what each should take. Mark 15:16-24

There is a lot of power in a uniform. I know that from personal experience. As an athlete, it was an exciting day when they pulled out the new uniforms for the season (even the same old raggedy uniforms from years past.) You put that uniform on and you were suddenly playing for your school, your community, instead of just for yourself.

When I needed money in my first year in the seminary, I got a job as a patrolman for a security company. I dressed just like a police officer. I had a badge, brass buttons the needed to be polished, black boots, a stripe down the leg of my pants. I carried a billy club instead of a gun but I had the same long hard flashlight. And they taught me how to use it if need be. They also said that it was my uniform, and the respect it engendered, that gave me the authority to do my job.

Today my uniforms are a black shirt with a white tab in the collar and a robe on Sunday. Only when I am dressed like that do complete strangers ask me to pray for their loved one when we meet in a hospital elevator. There is power in that too.

And, if not handled appropriately, power is a dangerous thing.

I suppose it was just another day on the job for those soldiers. They got dressed that morning in the garb that set them apart. The uniform that brought more fear than love. They went to work. There was a special prisoner that day. Some said he was the king of the despised, low life, superstitious, Jews amongst whom they were there to control.

They went to work on Jesus. They weren’t concerned about justice or honor or civic duty. They stripped him. They beat him. They hurt him. They humiliated him. They used him as a model to the crowds – THIS is what happens to you if you cross Rome!

The irony is that they dressed Jesus like the King he was. They even recruited a servant to help him carry his cross. But, in the end, stripped of his clothing, stripped of his dignity, his throne would be a cross. His humiliation would be his exaltation.

Let us pray: Dear Lord, we pray today for all people who wear uniforms as signifiers of their authority, that they might do the jobs entrusted to them with dignity, excellence, compassion, and mercy. We pray for those who have suffered, even died, at the hands of those who abuse their authority. We trust your love for all people and your particular concern for the powerless, as you yourself experienced the ultimate powerlessness. In Jesus’ name. Amen.