The Holy Week "crunch"

PALM SUNDAY

(The Sunday of the Passion)

Readings:

Philippians 2:5-11

John 12:12-16

John 18:1–19:42

Key Verses (using the World English Bible):

Php. 2:8: “Being found in human form, [Christ Jesus] humbled himself, becoming obedient to death, yes, the death of the cross.”

John 12:14, 16: “Jesus, having found a donkey, say on it… His disciples didn’t understand these things at first, but when Jesus was glorified, then they remembered that these things were written about him.”

Reflection

Our Lenten journey concludes with what is probably the most dramatic week of our Christian faith: “Holy Week”, the final week of Jesus’ earthly life.  This week runs the full gamut of emotion: from ebullient joy at Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, anger and rage at (or alongside?) those who yell for his crucifixion, to grief and pain at Jesus’ last moments, betrayed and abandoned.

As if that weren’t hard enough, the Church manages to squeeze all of this into one Sunday.  Today, most services will begin with the Procession of the Palms, in which we, with joy, song, and even palm branches, welcome Jesus as King, just like the crowds did so long ago.  Afterwards, we will hear the story of Christ’s Passion, often as a dramatic performance where we, the congregation, shout: “Crucify him!”, as did those same crowds, something I’ve always found moving.  Finally, as on every Sunday, we gather around the altar to celebrate Christ’s resurrection with Communion.  Now, of course, there’s a practical reason behind this setup.  In a Sunday lectionary, there’s simply no other Sunday on which to reflect on all of this material chronologically, since next week is the Sunday of the Resurrection.  The result, though, is a bittersweet service, where triumph is muted by the knowledge of the agony soon to unfold—and it also becomes a surprising opportunity for spiritual lessons.

What I learn is something about human nature.  I always found it odd and somewhat disturbing that, if you pay attention to the chronology in the Gospels, people cheer for Jesus one day, and just a few days later, they’re gathered against him, crying out for his death.  The Palm Sunday liturgy contracts these days into a mere hour, so the shift in mood is even more noticeable.  Are we really so superficial, so easily swayed and fickle?  Were they just cheering for their own idea of what a Messiah should be—turning away in anger and disappointment when Jesus proved to be someone they didn’t expect?

To answer those questions, I need look no closer than at our collective modern life.  I think of the entertainment industry: Lady Gaga—probably the only blog that will reference her on Palm Sunday—can be hailed one year as “the next Madonna”, and another year considered a “flop”.  I think of the fashion industry: this season’s trendy styles are forgotten in the next, and with even more time are likely to be viewed as dated or even cheap.  I think of the tech industry: the latest gadget is marketed as the solution to problems we didn’t even know we had, only to become obsolete in the next cycle, when we’ve moved on to newer concerns.  I'm sure you can come up with your own examples.

“Out with the old, in with the new” goes the refrain.  When something fails to meet our expectations, or we tire of it, we generally toss it aside, moving on to “bigger and better things”.  Holy Week challenges that attitude, forcing us not to throw Jesus away like his contemporaries did, just because his type of salvation wasn’t exactly what we wanted, or because his story is 2,000 years old.  Holy Week also reminds us that God doesn’t go by our concepts of old and new.  God never tires from working through new ways in order to achieve his ancient purpose: to be in relationship with his creation.

Prayer of the Day

Almighty and everlasting God,

in your tender love for the human race,

you sent your Son, our Savior Jesus Christ,

to take upon him our flesh,

and to suffer death upon the cross,

that all humanity should follow

the example of his great humility.

Mercifully grant that we

may both walk in the model of his patience,

and also worthily be made

partakers of his resurrection;

through the same Jesus Christ our Lord,

who lives and reigns with you

in the unity of the Holy Spirit,

one God forever and ever.

Amen.

—Collect for Palm Sunday, adapted from the 5^th century Gelasian Sacramentary, and the Book of Common Prayer, 1662 and 1979.

O God,

it is meet and right to love you devotedly.

Multiply within us

the gifts of your ineffable grace,

that, as you have caused us

to hope and trust in the death of your Son,

so too, with his resurrection,

you may bring us to our heavenly goal;

through the same Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

—Collect #2 for Palm Sunday, translated and adapted by Joseph A. Soltero from the 5^th century Gelasian Sacramentary.

Hymn 1: “All glory, laud, and honor”

(Words: ‘Gloria, laus, et honor’, Theodulph of Orleans, 9^th century; translated to English by John Mason Neale, 1818-1866; adapted by Joseph A. Soltero, 2015

Tune: ‘Valet will ich dir geben’, melody by Melchior Teschner, 1584-1635; harmonized by William Henry Monk, 1823-1889)

Refrain:

All glory, laud, and honor

To you, Redeemer, King!

To you the lips of children

Made sweet hosannas ring.

You are the King of Israel,

Great David’s greater Son,

And in the Lord’s Name coming,

The King and blessed One!

Refrain

The company of angels

Is praising you on high,

And we, with all creation,

In chorus make reply.

Refrain

The people of the Hebrews

With palms before you went;

Our praise and prayers and anthems

Before you we present.

Refrain

To you, before your Passion,

They sang their hymns of praise.

To you, now high exalted,

Our melody we raise.

Refrain

You once received their praises,

Receive the prayers we bring,

For you delight in goodness,

O good and gracious King.

Refrain

Hymn 2: “My song is love unknown”

(Words: Samuel Crossman, 1624-1683; adapted by Joseph A. Soltero, 2015

Tune: ‘Love Unknown’, by John Ireland, 1879-1962)

My song is love unknown,

My Savior’s love to me,

Love to the loveless shown,

That they might lovely be.

O who am I,

That for my sake,

My Lord should take

Frail flesh and die?

He came from his blest throne

Salvation to bestow,

But some withdrew, and none

The longed-for Christ would know.

But O my friend,

My friend indeed,

Who at my need

His life did spend.

Sometimes they strew his way,

And his song praises sing,

Resounding all the day

Hosannas to their King.

Then “Crucify!”

Is all their breath,

And for his death

They thirst and cry.

Why? What has my Lord done?

What makes this rage and spite?

He made the lame to run,

He gave the blind their sight.

Sweet injuries!

Yet they at these

Themselves displease

And ‘gainst him rise.

They rise, and needs will have

My dear Lord made away.

A murderer they save,

The Prince of life they slay.

Yet steadfast he

To suff’ring goes,

That he his foes

From there might free.

In life no house, no home

My Lord on earth might have.

In death no friendly tomb

But what a stranger gave.

For heav’n, I say,

Was my Lord’s home,

But mine the tomb

Wherein he lay.

Here might I stay and sing

No holier tale than this.

Never was suffering

Nor love nor grief like his.

This is my friend

In whose sweet praise,

I all my days

Could gladly spend.

Dollars and demons

FIFTH SUNDAY IN LENT

(Judica)

Readings:

Hebrews 9:11-15

John 8:46-59

Key Verses (using the World English Bible):

Heb. 9:14: “How much more will the blood of Christ… cleanse your conscience from dead works to serve the living God?”

John 8:48-50: “[They asked Jesus,] ‘Don’t we say well that you… have a demon?’  Jesus answered, ‘I don’t have a demon, but I honor my Father… I don’t seek my own glory.’”

Reflection

An article last week about Creflo Dollar oddly brought back some fond memories of college.  In case the name doesn’t ring a bell, Creflo Dollar is an American televangelist, active since the late 80’s, founder of a number of ministries, including World Changers Church International.  He preaches “prosperity theology”, a controversial interpretation of Scripture that teaches that God rewards Christians in this life with financial security and material wealth—especially when they donate to certain suggested Christian ministries.  The “fond memories of college” might start to make a little more sense now.  My friends and I, most of us religion majors, would stay up Sunday nights to watch the televised “prosperity theology/apocalypse” lineup of televangelists Kenneth Copeland, Creflo Dollar, and Jack Van Impe.  Surprised at what we heard, we’d ask ourselves: do people really believe this?

And so, when I read that Creflo Dollar was calling on his congregation to buy him a new $65 million private jet, today’s Gospel came to mind: “Aren’t you possessed by a demon?!”

Money is an inextricable part of this world, and therefore also of the church on earth.  In last week’s Gospel, Philip knew that 200 denarii, roughly six months’ wages, wouldn’t be enough to buy bread for the multitudes.  The Book of Acts records that the apostles took charge of distributing money, according to members’ needs.  The early church recognized the slippery slope that comes with money: preachers and teachers should earn it, but loving it is “the root of all evil”.

This link between money and evil is hard to accept, but worth exploring, especially in Lent.  And I think today’s Gospel provides a guide for our conscience.  When accused of being demon-possessed, Jesus replied, “I don’t have a demon, but I honor my Father… I don’t seek my own glory.”  In other words, he challenges his accusers to judge him based on his actions.  Some of those actions were visible to everyone around him, such as healing the sick, casting out demons, showing power over nature, teaching his followers, seeking and inviting the outcasts and unclean.  Others, such as those we remember in Lent, were not meant to be understood except over time: his temptation in the wilderness, his betrayal and arrest, and his torturous execution.  And Christianity has come to understand that nothing of what Jesus did was for his own benefit.  To save humanity, he became fully human, humbling himself, coming not to be served, but to serve.  He was, as the hymn below puts it, “seeking not himself but us.”

All of us, including church employees, need to work and earn a living.  Even a church is a physical structure that needs to be maintained.  Even Jesus had to eat.  But it’s one thing to spend millions of dollars on a church where you have not only Sunday worship, but (hopefully and ideally) also other types of ministries during the week, such as feeding the hungry, housing the homeless, programs for the youth and elderly, so that the building itself becomes a vital part of the community because it services and supports the community.  It’s quite another thing to invest that kind of money into a $65 million private jet—unless World Changers Church International is actually changing the world with it, say, by flying food, clothing, and other essentials every single week to different cities across the globe.   But I doubt that most members of that church will ever get to see the inside of the plane they’re funding.

Only when our works, our actions, serve the living God, and not just our own gain, can we know, with a clean conscience, that we're on the right track.

Prayer of the Day

We pray you, almighty God,

mercifully to look upon your people;

that by your great goodness

they may be governed and preserved evermore,

both in body and soul;

through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

—Collect for the Fifth Sunday in Lent, Book of Common Prayer, 1662

Grant, O Lord,

that those we bring before you,

instructed in the holy mysteries,

may be renewed by the waters of baptism,

and be counted as members of your church;

through Jesus Christ our Lord,

who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,

one God, for ever and ever.

Amen.

—Collect for the Fifth Sunday in Lent, translated and adapted from the Gelasian Sacramentary, 5^th century, by Joseph A. Soltero

Hymn: “O love, how deep, how broad, how high”

(Words: ‘O amor quam ecstaticus’, Latin, 15^th century; attributed to Thomas à Kempis; translated to English by Benjamin Webb, 1819-1885, adapted by Joseph A. Soltero

Tune: ‘Deus tuorum militum’, from Antiphoner, 1753, adapted by The English Hymnal, 1906)

O love, how deep, how broad, how high,

How passing thought and fantasy,

That God—the Son of God should take

Our mortal form for mortals’ sake.

For us baptized, for us he bore

His holy fast and hungered sore,

For us temptation sharp he knew,

For us the tempter overthrew.

For us he prayed, for us he taught,

For us his daily works he wrought

By words, and signs, and actions thus

Still seeking not himself but us.

For us to wicked hands betrayed,

For us in thorns and robe arrayed,

He bore the shameful cross of death,

For us gave up his dying breath.

For us he rose from death again,

For us he went on high to reign,

For us he sent his Spirit here

To guide, to strengthen, and to cheer.

All glory to the Lord our God

For love so deep, so high, so broad,

The Trinity whom we adore

For ever and for evermore.

Children of freedom

FOURTH SUNDAY IN LENT

(Laetare)

Readings:

Galatians 4:21-5:1

John 6:1-14

Key Verses (using the New Revised Standard Version):

Gal. 4:30, 31: “But what does the scripture say? ‘Drive out the slave and her child…’ So then, friends, we are children, not of the slave [woman] but of the free woman.”

John 6:11-12: “Jesus took the loaves, and… distributed them… so also the fish, as much as they wanted.  When they were satisfied, he told his disciples, ‘Gather up the fragments left over, so that nothing may be lost.’”

Reflection

My church has the Lenten custom to recite the corporate confession of sin near the beginning of the service.  Following the rubrics of the Book of Common Prayer, the people may either stand or kneel.  I often wonder what visitors are thinking at this point.  Does it seem disorganized?  What should I do?  And, yes, it does feel a little awkward to stand next to someone kneeling or vice versa.  The original intent of the Book of Common Prayer apparently was to allow whole parishes, not individual parishioners—barring, of course, a physical impediment—the option to have the congregation stand or kneel.  Everyone would follow the custom of the church, but the ambiguous wording has resulted in the split situation I’ve described.

Today’s reading from Paul’s Letter to the Galatians shows a few other divisions resulting from similar ambiguities.  Paul revisits the story of Hagar and Sarah, Abraham’s wives who bore him Ishmael and Isaac, respectively.  After Isaac was born, Sarah had her husband banish Hagar and Ishmael.  Isaac grew up to become the father of Israel, both the man and the people, a patriarch of Judaism.  But Paul makes a very clever distinction between the two youths. Ishmael’s mother is a slave; Isaac’s is free.  And only Isaac was promised by God before natural conception.  Therefore, Isaac is a child of freedom, promise, and the Spirit.  All this sounds great—up to the point where Paul equates not Isaac, but Ishmael, the banished slave child, with present-day Jerusalem and the Law!

And not only that, but Paul sees history repeating itself.  Why did Sarah have Abraham drive out his firstborn and his slave-mother?  The Hebrew and Greek versions, both of which Paul likely would’ve known, are vague.  Is Ishmael playing with, or laughing at, Isaac? Paul reads the latter, and then compares that bullying to present-day Jerusalem, the seat of Judaism, persecuting would-be believers in Christ, trying to subject them first to the Law.  No wonder this very complex passage has been stricken from most modern lectionaries.  It’s been read as a seal of approval for supersessionism (Christianity supplanted Judaism), and even anti-Semitism.  But, as with the rubrics in the Book of Common Prayer, that’s probably not the original intent of Paul, who asserted and even boasted about his Jewish identity.

To make sense of all of this, we have to note that Paul is writing to the Galatians, a Celtic people, pockets of whom were spread out all over Europe.  They were just about as far from Judaism as any Pagan could get, and despite that, Paul doesn’t want them to become Jewish.  It’s as if this entire letter is Paul’s way of saying, “No, no! Stay who you are!”  Paul knows that Gentiles have been able to keep the spirit of God’s Law without even knowing it, or being commanded to.  And so I think he wants them to become better Galatians through Christ, just as he, too, is understanding his own Jewish faith anew through Christ.  Sure, both sides may need a little readjustment.  The Galatians will have to renounce their worship of other gods, and more purity-minded Jews will have to sit at table with Pagans.  But in Christ, there is to be no distinction between people, only freedom.

As we approach the memorials of our deliverance from earthly slavery and spiritual bondage, let us also drive out the mother of anything that keeps us enslaved to disunity; the son of whatever nurtures division.  Let us live like children of freedom: Christ's type of freedom—because it’s not as easy as it sounds.  It often means seeking God alongside people we never may have expected to meet, whose walks of life may differ from our own; who come to us in God’s image, and through whom God’s Spirit has something to teach us—for, in God’s house, standers and kneelers equally will always be welcomed.

Prayer of the Day

Grant, we pray you, Almighty God,

that we, who worthily deserve

to be punished for our evil deeds,

may mercifully be relieved

by the comfort of your grace;

through our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Amen.

—Collect for the Fourth Sunday in Lent, Book of Common Prayer, 1662

Almighty and everlasting God,

increase the number of your faithful people

through the fruitfulness of your Spirit,

so that those who are born of earth

may become reborn of heaven;

through Jesus Christ our Lord,

who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,

one God, forever and ever.

Amen.

—Collect for the Fourth Sunday in Lent, Gelasian Sacramentary, 5^th century; adapted translation from Latin by Joseph A. Soltero

Hymn: “In Christ there is no East or West”

(Words: John Oxenham, 1852-1941; adapted by Joseph A. Soltero from The Hymnal 1982, and The New Century Hymnal, 1995

Tune: ‘McKee’, African-American melody, adapted and harmonized by Harry T. Burleigh, 1866-1949)

In Christ there is no East or West,

In Christ no South or North,

But one community of love

Throughout the whole wide earth.

In Christ there is no Jew or Greek,

In Christ no slave or free;

Who serves and loves and lives in God

Is surely kin to me.

In Christ shall true hearts everywhere

Their high communion find.

God’s service is the golden cord

Close binding humankind.

In Christ now meet both East and West,

In Christ meet South and North.

All Christ-like souls are one in him

Throughout the whole wide earth.

Inner demons

THIRD SUNDAY IN LENT

(Oculi)

Readings:

Ephesians 5:1-14

Luke 11:14-28

Key Verses (using the World English Bible):

Eph. 5:14: “Awake, you who sleep, and arise from the dead, and Christ will shine on you.”

Luke 11:24b-26: “[The unclean spirit] says, ‘I will turn back to my house from which I came out.’ When he returns, he finds it swept and put in order.  Then he goes, and takes seven other spirits more evil than himself, and they enter in and dwell there.”

Reflection

Last week, a guest preacher at my church turned our attention to the story of Kelly Gissendaner, the only woman on Georgia’s death row.  She was scheduled to be executed last Monday, having been convicted for conspiracy to murder her husband, though complications have postponed the execution.  The preacher used the opportunity of Kelly’s then-imminent death to criticize the death penalty, citing that the United States is the only modern, industrialized nation that still actively practices such government-backed ritual killings.

To be honest, I probably could’ve done without such a politically-charged and, at times, one-sided discourse.  My own position on the death penalty attempts to walk the fine line between faith in an executed leader who preached ongoing forgiveness, and a desire not to infringe my beliefs upon the state, when I don’t want the state to return the favor.  And yet it made me reflect on the eternal question of evil—because I can’t look at the world through rose-colored glasses.  Evil really does exist.  We rarely talk about that.  Well-intentioned, most of us prefer to think that everyone, with the right psychological, spiritual, even medical rehabilitation, is capable of embracing goodness, love, and empathy.  But what I hear on the nightly news makes me doubt that.

In ancient times, people attributed forces of evil to supernatural beings we now know as “demons”.  Originally, though, “demon” was more of a neutral word, not necessarily connoting evil, closer in meaning perhaps to a “rogue spirit”.  An example of a “good demon” in antiquity is the “Agathos Daimon” or “Noble Spirit”, honored in Ancient Greece on the second day of lunar months.  He figures again in Hellenistic Astrology, lending his name to the advantageous 11^th house of friendships and connections.  (The 12^th house, conversely, belongs to the “Wicked Spirit”.)  Additionally, the goal of every Stoic follower was to attain “eudaimonia”, literally, “good-spiritedness”.

However, the New Testament records the darker, more destructive side of the concept.  And if you’re thinking you’ve recently been encountering the word “demon” more frequently, that’s not a coincidence.  The Gospel readings for the past three Sundays in Lent have all featured a demon: Jesus’ temptation by Satan, the demon-possessed daughter of the Canaanite woman; and today’s lengthy passage begins with the casting out of a mute demon, and ends with an eerie description of a demon’s modus operandi—after being cast out, it may return with “seven other spirits more evil than himself”.  (Side note: keep an eye out for these “seven spirits”; they actually will return in the Trinity Season.)

So what does this all mean?

Lent calls us to meditate on the sufferings of One who did not sin, so that we, who often fall into sin, may reflect on where we may have gone off track.  It’s a kind of “internal inventory”, as I’ve come to call it this year.  But we can’t do that fully and meaningfully without confronting things we’d rather not admit—without facing our own inner demons.  Whether these are actual discarnate unclean spirits or not doesn’t matter much when we’ve all got something to come clean about.  Fortunately for most of us, our faults are not so great as to merit a death sentence (though, I suppose, a more traditional standpoint may argue otherwise), but they might not be any less destructive to our selves.  The promise of Lent, however, is that there is light at the end of the tunnel—the light of Easter, when we will again arise from the dead, to meet the light of Christ shining on us.

Prayer of the Day

We pray you, almighty God,

look upon the innermost desires of your humble servants,

and stretch forth the right hand of your majesty,

to be our defense against all our enemies;

through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

—Collect for the Third Sunday in Lent, adapted from the Book of Common Prayer, 1652

Hymn: “Lord, who throughout these forty days”

(Words: Claudia Frances Hernaman, 1838-1898; adapted by Joseph A. Soltero, 2015

Tune: ‘St. Flavian’, Day’s Psalter, 1562; adapted and harmonized by Richard Redhead, 1820-1901)

Lord, you throughout these forty days

For us did fast and pray;

Teach us with you to mourn our sins,

And close by you to stay.

As you with Satan did contend,

And did the vict’ry win,

O give us strength in you to fight,

In you to conquer sin.

As you bore hunger, pain, and thirst,

So teach us, gracious Lord,

To die to self, and chiefly live

By your most holy word.

Throughout these days of penitence,

And through your Passiontide,

Yea, evermore, in life and death,

Jesus, with us abide!

Abide with us so that, this life

Of suffering overpast,

An Easter of unending joy

We may attain at last.

To err is human

SECOND SUNDAY IN LENT

(Reminiscere)

Readings:

1 Thessalonians 4:1-8

Matthew 15:21-28

Key Verses (using the World English Bible):

1 Thes. 4:1: “We beg and exhort you in the Lord Jesus, that as you received from us how you ought to walk and to please God, that you abound more and more.”

Matt. 15:25-26: “[The Canaanite woman] came and worshiped [Jesus], saying, ‘Lord, help me.’  But he answered, ‘It is not appropriate to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.’”

Reflection

Historically, Christianity has confessed a Savior that is simultaneously both human and divine, an expression of faith from which most of modern Christianity descends.  It’s certainly the ‘symbol’ of faith I profess—and I take advantage of both churchly and secular connotations of the word—and it’s the lens through which I write this blog.  But, in the spirit of Lenten honesty and confession, let’s all be real about something.  Most of us probably only rarely think of Jesus as ‘human’.  Sure, we depict him in human form, and we imagine he actually experienced hunger, thirst, and even pain as on the cross.  But they say that “to err is human”, and I daresay that being wrong is the one thing most of us can’t imagine Jesus ever doing.

And that’s precisely why I like today’s Gospel reading because that’s exactly what it shows: Jesus at his most human.

As Jesus and his disciples are on the road, a Canaanite woman cries out for him, imploring his mercy for herself, and his healing for her demon-possessed daughter.  ‘Canaanite’ may not mean much to us today, but ancient Judeans would’ve quickly associated her with paganism, idolatry, and sin.  Her land was the Promised Land, to which God had led the ancient Israelites, commanding them to expel and expunge its inhabitants from that territory.  Jesus and his disciples therefore act accordingly—they ignore her at first, and ask that she be sent away.  When that doesn’t work, Jesus tries to get rid of her by saying that his mission is only for Israel, avoiding the fact that Israel’s mission once directly involved the Canaanite people.

  What’s most striking to me, though, is how she persists without showing a hint of offense.  She knows that Jesus descends from those who once occupied and ethnically cleansed her land—she calls him “Son of David”, after all—but she chases after him anyway.  Maybe she’s desperate because she loves her daughter so much.  Maybe she doesn’t blame contemporary Judeans for what their ancestors did.  At any rate, she kneels before him and says simply, “Lord, help me.”  Jesus’ response is harsh: he can’t take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.  Which one is which is quite clear, and if he’s calling this woman a dog—well, I’ll leave it at that.  Again, she shows no offense.  One might even say she turns the other cheek.  Maybe she is a dog, she suggests, but even so, she’s not asking for much, only to eat the crumbs that fall from the master’s table.

This is where I think Jesus learned something.  And I think he learned that he was wrong.  He was wrong for judging her harshly, the same way he already knew he would soon be judged during his last week on earth.  He was wrong for ignoring her and trying to abandon her, the same way his followers would soon ignore and abandon him.  He was wrong for thinking that his mission was only for Israel, for his arms would soon be outstretched upon the cross in order to encompass all peoples.  The written word cannot capture spoken tone, which is why, when Jesus says to her, “Woman, great is your faith!”, some Christian scholars conclude that this had all just been a set-up to test her faith.  But I hear gratitude in his voice: “Thank you! Thank you for teaching and encouraging me; for reminding me of who I am, and what I came to do!”

I like the idea of a Jesus that can be wrong; a Jesus that can learn a lesson.  The idea is not as foreign as one would think; Luke records that, as a child, “Jesus increased in wisdom”.  And for me, there’s no other way that Jesus can be both fully divine and also fully human.  Learning we can be wrong, and trying to make amends, is one of the most human experiences we can have.  Reading the story this way encourages my faith because it makes Jesus more accessible to my own flawed human nature.  In this story, he expressed irritation, superiority, and even prejudice, just like all of us have.

But, as the Letter to the Hebrews puts it, he was “in all points tempted like we are, yet without sin”.  The Christian claim is that he ultimately never gave in to temptation.  He, who was able to err because of his fully human nature, was able always to make complete restitution because of his fully divine nature.  That’s something that none of us, who are only human, can ever do.  That’s why I think this interpretation honors, not attacks, the historic faith because it underscores our total need for God’s help whenever we fall into sin and error.

Prayer of the Day

Almighty God,

you see that we have no power in ourselves

to help ourselves.

Keep us both outwardly in our bodies,

and inwardly in our souls,

that we may be defended from all adversities

which may happen to the body,

and from all evil thoughts

which may assault and hurt the soul;

through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

—Collect for the Second Sunday in Lent, Book of Common Prayer, 1662

Merciful God,

grant that we, with ready minds,

may ever entreat and appease you

and, pursuing the forgiveness of sins,

may be freed from all harmful assaults;

through Jesus Christ our Lord,

who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,

one God, for ever and ever.

Amen.

—Collect for the Second Sunday in Lent, Gelasian Sacramentary, 5^th century; adapted translation from Latin by Joseph A. Soltero

Hymn: “The glory of these forty days”

(Words: 6^th century Latin, ‘Clarum decus jejunii’; translated to English by Maurice F. Bell, 1862-1947; adapted by Joseph A. Soltero, 2015

Tune: ‘Erhalt uns, Herr’, melody from Geistliche Lieder, 1543)

The glory of these forty days

We celebrate with songs of praise,

For Christ, through whom all things were made,

Himself has fasted and has prayed.

Alone and fasting, Moses saw

The loving God who gave the law,

And to Elijah, fasting, came

The steeds and chariots of flame.

So Daniel trained his mystic sight,

Delivered from the lions’ might,

And John, the Bridegroom’s friend, became

The herald of Messiah’s name.

Then grant, O Lord, that, like them, we

With you in fast and prayer may be.

Our spirits strengthen with your grace,

And give us joy to see your face.

O Father, Son, and Spirit blest,

To you be every prayer addressed,

Who are in threefold Name adored,

From age to age, one only Lord.