Creation

Trinity A: Together

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Celtic TrinityOLD TESTAMENT:  Genesis 1:1-2:4a

To read the Old Testament Lectionary passage, click here

The writing that we know as The Book of Genesis is actually a composite of three (or possibly more) unrelated oral traditions—Yahwist (J) (10th century bce), Elohist (9th century bce, and Priestly (P) (about 5th century bce).  Each have a different understanding of God and a different focus.  It is important when we read it that we remember that, for all practical purposes, we come as aliens to the culture in which it was written.  This is a story through which we can understanding humanity’s beginnings.

Genesis makes the first claim about God’s character, God’s relationship to the world, and God’s relationship to humanity and to us as individuals.  So, Genesis is not a book that provides easy, historical lessons to life’s questions.  Genesis is an experience that you have to enter.  Theodore Hiebert says of the book:  “Genesis shares the scientist’s fascination with the birth of the cosmos and the origin of life on earth, the anthropologists’ curiosity about the first human beings, the historian’s interest in the beginning of civilization, a family’s esteem for their earliest ancestors, and the theologian’s concern about the founding events of religious traditions.”

To claim that God created the world and all that exists is a matter of faith, grounded fundamentally in God’s self-revelation.  At this level, the opening chapters of Genesis are a confession of faith.  In the passage, the phrase “in the beginning” probably does not refer to the absolute beginning, but to the beginning of ordered creation.  After all, God was there as well as chaos!  “Heaven and earth” is probably not intended to be two separate places but a reference to the totality of Creation.  In fact, Norman Habel contends that this verse IS the account of Creation, followed by a more detailed account in the form of an inclusion.

Light here is not sunlight, but a pushing back of the darkness with life.  The phrase “it was good” does not imply perfection, but rather implies the fulfillment of divine intention.  It was not perfect; it was the way it was meant to be.

According to ancient Israel cosmology, the dome is an impermeable barrier that holds back a great reservoir of water in the sky, separating it from the great reservoir under the earth.  When the “windows of the sky” (7:11) are opened in the Priestly flood story, the water in this reservoir falls as rain.

In verses 11-13, there is a shift in God’s way of creating; the earth itself participates in the creative process.  The description of the plants and trees with their capacity to reproduce by themselves gives evidence for a probing interest in what we would call “natural science”.  (Keep in mind that when this was written, there was no understanding of photosynthesis.  It was ascribed to the powers of the earth.)

“Let us”—refers to an image of God as a consultant of other divine beings.  God is not alone but chooses to share Creation with what God has created.  In the phrase “In our image, according to our likeness”, image should not be construed as identity.  The image functions to mirror God to the world, to be God as God would be to the nonhuman, to be an extension of God’s own dominion.  We are not created to be God.  Think of a photograph, an “image” of the subject in the picture.  The “image” is NOT the subject; it is rather a reminder, something that points to and makes the subject more real.

Abraham Heschel said that “Eternal life does not grow away from us; it is “planted within us, growing beyond us.” (Abraham Heschel, The Sabbath, 74).  The divine resting concludes creation—namely, Sabbath belongs to the created order; it cannot be legislated or abrogated by human beings.  “Finishing” does not mean that God has quit creating.  The seventh day refers to a specific day and not to an open future.  Continuing creative work will be needed, but there is a “rounding off” of the created order at this point.

Also according to Heschel, “The Sabbath is a reminder of the two worlds—this world and the world to come; it is an example of both worlds.  For the Sabbath is joy, holiness, and rest; joy is part of this world; holiness and rest are something of the world to come…The Sabbath is more than an armistice, more than an interlude; it is a profound conscious harmony of man and the world, a sympathy for all things and a participation in the spirit that unites what is below and what is above.  All that is divine in the world is brought into union with God.  This is Sabbath, and the true happiness of the universe…“There are two aspects to the Sabbath, as there are two aspects to the world.  The Sabbath is meaningful to [us] and is meaningful to God….The Sabbath is holy by the grace of God, and is still in need of all the holiness which man may lend to it…Unless one learns how to relish the taste of Sabbath while still in this world, unless one is initiated in the appreciation of eternal life, one will be unable to enjoy the taste of eternity in the world to come.  Sad is the lot of [those] who have no power to perceive the beauty of the Sabbath…” (Abraham Heschel, The Sabbath, 19, 31-32, 53-54, 74)

The high point of Creation is the Sabbath, which is delight in God, one another, and Creation.  It is where it all comes together.  This is the revealing of the God who made us, who conversed with us and with all of Creation even from the beginning, and who saw something in the world that we have not yet been able to see—an order and equality and justice that has been there from the very beginning.  And God saw that it was good. 

  1. What is your response to this passage?
  2. What stands out the most for you?
  3. What do you think is the central point of Creation?
  4. What does the “Sabbath” mean for you?
  5. Why do you think we read this passage in this week in which we are remembering and celebrating the Trinity?  

 

NEW TESTAMENT:   2 Corinthians 13:11-13

To read the Lectionary Epistle passage, click here

This passage is the concluding admonition for this entire second letter to the Church at Corinth.  The “holy kiss”, which is probably a little odd-sounding to us, was essentially a known and usual social convention that Paul has brought into practice in his churches.  The “holy” reference suggests that it was a social convention that was assumed into the church and made acceptable as an intimate greeting.  It became the demonstration of love and peace between members.  The extension “be with all of you” once again affirms that all the Corinthians stand on the same ground (no one is better than the next) and that they belong to one another because of God’s love, the grace in and from Christ, and the fellowship generated by the Holy Spirit.

This short passage is about relationship, that sense of unity that comes from being one with God and one with God’s people.  Kissing, of course, connotes real intimacy. It is closer than just being friends.  It means entering each others’ lives and becoming part of each other.  Although this isn’t a specifically “trinitiarian” text in the classic sense of what that means, it still depicts that close relationship, inseparable and mutual, without any part of the relationship being held above the other.  It depicts who we are called to be and how we are to relate to others within this Kingdom of God in which we already reside. 

  1. What does this closing admonition mean for us?
  2. How can we “live in peace” when there is so much disunity, strife, and suffering in the world?

 

GOSPEL:  Matthew 28:16-20

To read the Lectionary Gospel passage, click here

This is the first scene in which the disciples have appeared since they fled during the arrest of Jesus.  Jesus appears to them and they “see” him.  There is also the element of doubt.  But Jesus comes to this somewhat wavering church and speaks.  The basis for the words of The Great Commission is the claim of that risen Jesus that all authority has been given to him by God.  The commission is to all the “nations”.  The “nations” are to be discipled—go, make, baptize, teach.  Essentially, Jesus has handed the authority given to him by God to those whom he has commissioned.  Jesus’ last words are a promise of his continuing presence during the church’s mission.

When we look more deeply at this passage, we see that there are actually several different ways to translate the phrase “but some doubted”.  To whom do we think the word “some” refers?  We would like to think that it was those outside of the small circle of disciples, those that did not know Jesus as well in the first place.  It is easy, then, for us to dismiss this doubting as unfounded and even wrong.  But this phrase can also be translated as “but some of them doubted”, implying that there were some of Jesus’ inner circle of disciples that had their doubts.  That becomes a little bit more difficult for us to swallow.  After all, if THEY had doubts, where does that leave us?  Or maybe the passage is then saying, “hey, THEY, even they, had doubts; maybe doubting is alright”.  It is no longer a phrase that condemns doubting but rather affirms that it exists.  In the New American Bible, however, it is translated “but they doubted”, meaning that all of the disciples were both worshipping and doubting, doubting and worshipping.  Maybe this is saying that doubt is the norm, something that is perhaps even expected to happen.  Here, doubt is not skepticism or unbelief but rather a part of discipleship itself.  It is a part of what it means to be the church—worshipping and doubting, doubting and worshipping.

Whatever the nature of the resurrection event, it did not generate perfect faith even in those who experienced it firsthand.  It is not to perfect believers that the mission of Jesus Christ is entrusted but to the worshipping and wavering community of disciples.

Hans Kung says this:  Doubt is the shadow cast by faith.  One does not always notice it, but it is always there, though concealed.  At any moment it may come into action.  There is no mystery of the faith which is immune to doubt.

Faith in the resurrection is a matter of worship, not of inference.  But it does not exclude doubt, but takes doubt into itself.  The Great Commission, then, is given to all of us worshipping and doubting believers.

But, ultimately, doubts are supposed to be resolved, right?  With careful study of the Scriptures, everything becomes clear, right?  Well, let me tell you, I have a Masters of Divinity degree on my wall.  And, sadly, I have to tell you…that I do not have all the answers.  That’s not the way it works.  You know what intense theological study does for you?  It doesn’t give you all the answers; it teaches you how to ask the questions.

Part of Jesus’ directive to the disciples was to “teach”.  How do you teach, how do you learn, without asking questions?  Constructive doubt is what forms the questions in us and leads us to search and explore our own faith understanding.  It is doubt that compels us to search for greater understanding of who God is and who we are as children of God.  And it is in the face of doubt that our faith is born.  God does not call us to a blind, unexamined faith, accepting all that we see and all that we hear as unquestionable truth; God instead calls us to an illumined doubt, through which we search and journey toward a greater understanding of God.

So can we live amidst the shadows, the doubts, the varying shades of grey?  Think about different amounts of sunlight.  We have difficulty living in darkness.  We try desperately to artificially light our way or find some way to compensate for our blindness.  But full sunlight is also blinding.  Our eyes cannot take it.  It is those cloudy, gray days that allow us to see the best.  Overcast days are a photographer’s dream.  It is the light mixed with shadows that provides the most clarity and allows every color of the prism to be illumined on its own.

Faith is like that.  For here we have not human truth which we can understand and prove but God’s truth.  True faith is never completely clear.  It remains obscure.  It is always intermingled with shadows and doubts that open our eyes to the only way to deal with them—not by proving them wrong but by looking to God for the light that will make them part of our faith.  “But some doubted”.  They were the ones that saw him and worshipped him and whose faith grew.  They were the ones that were blessed with that reasonable doubt.  It’s called faith.  Thanks be to God!

So, what does this all have to do with the Trinity?  Well, keep in mind that the Trinity is not a doctrine that is perfectly laid out in the Scriptures.  It is rather a human construct that for us Trinitarian Christians represents the fullest understanding of God that we can imagine.  Think of it like this…In the beginning was God.  God created everything that was and everything that is and laid out a vision for what it would become.  But we didn’t really get it.  So God tried and tried again to explain it.  God sent us Abraham and Moses and Judges and Kings and Prophets.  But we still didn’t get it.  God wove a vision of what Creation was meant to be and what we were meant to be as God’s children through poetry and songs and beautiful writings of wisdom.  But we still didn’t get it.

“So,” God thought, “there is only one thing left to do.  I’ll show you.  I’ll show you the way to who I am and who I desire you to be.  I will walk with you.”  So God came, Emmanuel, God-with-us, and was born just like we were with controversy and labor pains and all those very human conceptions of what life is.  Jesus Christ, Emmanuel, was the Incarnation of a universal truth, a universal path, the embodiment of the way to God and the vision that God holds for all of Creation.  But we still didn’t get it.  We fought and we argued and we held on to our own human-contrived understandings of who God is.  And it didn’t make sense to us.  This image of God did not fit into our carefully-constructed boxes.  And so, as we humans have done so many times before and so many times since, we destroyed that which got in the way of our understanding.  There…it was finished…we could go back to the way it was before.

But God loves us too much to allow us to lose our way.  And so God promised to be with us forever.  Because now you have seen me; now you know what it is I intended; now you know the way.  And so I will always be with you, always inside of you, always surrounding you, always ahead of you, and always behind you.  There will always be a part of me in you.  Come, follow me, this way.  Be with me.  Be who I know you can be. 

  1. What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  2. What does the “doubt” mean for you here?
  3. What does “faith” mean for you here?
  4. Taking all three of these Scriptures, what do you think we’re supposed to make of the Trinity? 

 

Some Quotes for Further Reflection:

God is always bigger than the boxes we build for God, so do not waste too much time protecting the boxes.  (Richard Rohr)

 

Faith is better understood as a verb than as a noun, as a process than as a possession.  It is an on-again-off-again rather than once-and-for-all.  Faith is not being sure where you’re going but going anyway—a journey without maps.  Tillich said that doubt isn’t the opposite of faith; it is an element of faith.  (Frederick Buechner)

 

So much depends on our idea of God!  Yet no idea of [God], however pure and perfect, is adequate to express who [God] really is.  Our idea of God tells us more about ourselves than about [God].  We must learn to realize that the love of God seeks us in every situation, and seeks our good.  [God’s] inscrutable love seeks our awakening. (Thomas Merton) 

 

Closing

God to enfold me, God to surround me, God in my speaking, God in my thinking.

God in my sleeping, God in my waking, God in my watching, God in my hoping.

God in my life, God in my lips, God in my soul, God in my heart.

God in my sufficing, God in my slumber, God in mine ever-living soul, God in mine eternity.

 

God our Creator, today you bring us to a new stage of our journey to you;  May the presence of your Son guide us, the love of your Spirit enlighten us, until we come at last to you, God blessed for ever and ever.  Amen.

 

(From A Celtic Primer, compiled by Brendan O’Malley, p. 150-151, 60.)

A Programming Note:

Sorry I have been “missing in action” for so many weeks.  Life has been a whirlwind and sometimes a blur.  I’ve journeyed to a place that I did not see coming but I am good.  So, I’ll commit to getting back to this on a regular basis, as well as posting on my Dancing to God blog at http://www.dancingtogod.com.  I hope you’ll check that out too. Thank you for being a part of my journey!

Grace and Peace,

Shelli

Lent 5A: Unbound

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Jesus Raises Lazarus From the Dead
“Jesus Raises Lazarus From the Dead”, Mafa Cameroon, 1970’s

OLD TESTAMENT: Ezekiel 37: 1-14

To read the Old Testament Lectionary passage, click here

Ezekiel was both a prophet and a priest to the Hebrew people during the 6th century BCE, probably beginning before the conquest of Judah and then going into the Babylonian exile. Ezekiel, himself, was actually one of the ones who was exiled, who lost his place of identity and home. His message is clear: he assures his hearers of God’s ever-abiding presence among them, of God’s involvement in what happens in their lives and in the world around them. To these people who had been ejected from their homes and who were now wandering in hopelessness and despair, this was a message of real hope. According to Ezekiel, God would restore their lives.

The first part of the passage we read is Ezekiel’s vision or prophecy; the last part is an interpretation of that vision. The valley here is probably referring to the plains between the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers, which was a dry and arid place. There is some speculation that this is the site of a battle at some point during this siege. The bones there are dry, brittle, lifeless, and broken. Whether this is meant literally (as in the case of a battlefield) or metaphorically (as in the case of lost homelands), they symbolize the lost hopes and despair of the exiles themselves. For them, the kingdom of Israel is gone. The temple is gone and the city lies in ruins. It is dead and their lives have gone away with it.

And then, according to Ezekiel, “the hand of the Lord came upon me.” In The Message, Eugene Peterson says that “God grabs me”. Think of that image. Here was Ezekiel, probably feeling the weight of despair of those around him and virtual helplessness at what he could do as their leader. But then “God GRABBED him…I have something to show you.” And there in the middle of death and destruction and despair, God showed him what only God could see. And then God breathes life into these bones. The word “breath” here is the Hebrew word, ru’ah. We don’t really have a good translation. It means breath; it also means wind or spirit. It is the very essence of God. And the bones come to life.

The idea of God creating and recreating over and over again is not new to us.  But most of us do not this day live in exile.  We are at home; we are residing in the place where our identity is claimed.  So how can we, then, understand fully this breathing of life into death, this breathing of hope into despair?  The image is a beautiful one and yet we sit here breathing just fine.  We seldom think of these breaths as the very essence of God.  In the hymn, “I’ll Praise My Make While I’ve Breath”, Isaac Watts writes the words, “I’ll praise my God who lends me breath…”  Have you ever thought of the notion of God “lending you breath”?  Think about it.  In the beginning of our being, God lent us breath, ru’ah, the very essence of God.  And when our beings become lifeless and hopeless, that breath is there again.  And then in death, when all that we know has ended, God breathes life into dry, brittle, lifeless bones yet again.  Yes, it is a story of resurrection.

God gave us the ability to breathe and then filled us with the Breath of God.  We just have to be willing to breathe.  It’s a great Lenten image. It involves inhaling.  It also involves exhaling.  So exhale, breathe out all of that stuff that does not give you life, all of that stuff that dashes hopes and makes you brittle, all of that stuff that you hold onto so tightly that you cannot reach for God.  Most of us sort of live our lives underwater, weighed down by an environment in which we do not belong.  We have to have help to breathe, so we add machines and tanks of air.  But they eventually run out and we have to leave where we are and swim to the top.  And there we can inhale the very essence of God, the life to which we belong.  God lends us breath until our lives become one with God and we can breathe forever on our own.

 

  1. What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  2. Do you ever feel like God grabs you?
  3. What does that image mean to you of God breathing life into death?
  4. How pertinent do you think this image is to today’s world?
  5. How faithfully do you think we really believe that God can make all things new? How ready are we to let God breathe new life into us?

 

NEW TESTAMENT: Romans 8: 6-11

To access the Lectionary Epistle passage, click here

The main theme on the surface of Romans 7 and the first part of Romans 8 is the Jewish Law, the Torah and what it really means to live under God’s law. And for some scholars, the passage that we read lies at the very heart of this section on the Torah. In fact, Romans 8 is said to have been Paul’s greatest masterpiece, the epitome of his work. For us, the passage may almost be TOO familiar. There have been a multitude of prayers that have been created from it and Bach made it the backbone of a whole cantata.

In verse 5, right before our passage, Paul lays out the two ways of living—two mindsets—of the “flesh” and of the “Spirit”. For Paul, of the “flesh” is not as humans but rather a perversion of who we should be as humans. But it is the “way of the Spirit” that brings life. And since, as followers of Christ, the Spirit of Christ dwells in us, we do have life. It is like the Ezekiel passage. If we live in the “way of the Spirit”, the essence of God will be breathed into us and bring us to life. That is the way to true freedom. Here, for Paul, living within the “law”, living within the Spirit, is living within the power of love.

Often the idea of the “mind” is set against the idea of the “Spirit”, as if the two are not compatible existing together. But here Paul admonishes the reader to “set the mind on the Spirit”. For Paul, the “body” (GR. soma) is inherently neutral. It is not “bad”, per se, the way we often try to make it. But without the Spirit, the essence of Life, breathed into it, it remains neutral and ultimately dies. The two belong together. God’s Spirit brings breath and life.

Once again, it is a good Lenten passage. We tend to get wrapped up in those things of the “flesh”—our needs, our desires, our fears. Paul is not saying that we dispense with them as bad. Paul is making the claim that the Spirit can breathe new life into them. There is no sense in fighting to sustain our identity apart and away from God. It will ultimately die. Paul has more of a “big picture” understanding than we usually let him have. He’s saying that the flesh in and of itself is not bad but the Spirit brings it to life. I don’t think he is drawing a dividing line between darkness and light, between mind and Spirit, between death and life; rather, he is claiming that God’s Spirit has the capability of crossing that line, of bringing the two together, infused by the breath of God. It is a spirituality that we need, one that embraces all of life. It is one that embraces the Spirit of Life that is incarnate in this world, even this world. I mean, really, what good would the notion of a disembodied Spirit really do us? Isn’t the whole point that life is breathed into the ordinary, even the mundane, so that it becomes holy and sacred, so that it becomes life?

 

  1. What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  2. What, for you, is the Spirit of God in you?
  3. What does that mean for our lives?
  4. What happens when we separate the “mind” and the “Spirit” in our lives?

GOSPEL: John 11: 1-45 (11: 17-44)

To access the Lectionary Gospel passage, click here

This entire lectionary passage contains the account of the raising of Lazarus. But the bulk of the story is not focused on Lazarus’ raising but rather on the preparations for it. This story is only told in The Gospel According to John, so it is unclear from where the story comes. There is, of course, no way to prove the “facts” of this miracle, but it sets the stage for Jesus’ own raising and what that means for the world. It is important to note that the Jewish understanding was that one’s soul “hovered” around the body for three days, but Lazarus has been dead for four days. In their understanding, his soul was gone; his body was dead, dead, dead.

So the story sets the stage for the beginning of God’s new age. The point is that the way to experience this power over death is to believe. When Jesus asks Martha, ‘Do you believe this?” he asks her to believe both that he is the resurrection and the life and that as the resurrection and the life he defeats the power of death. It means that death is reintegrated as a part of life, rather than a feeble end.

We have probably never been to a funeral that did not include the passage “I am the Resurrection and the Life. He who believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live.” Jesus asked Martha, “Do you believe this?” “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”

For many, this is one of those odd, somewhat problematic texts. After all, people don’t usually get up and walk out of tombs into the land of the living. This story challenges norms and even reality, to some extent. Perhaps that is the point. Perhaps it sort of jolts us into the realization that God is capable of more, that God will go beyond what we plan, what we think, even what we imagine. And yet, “Jesus wept.” In the older translations, it is supposedly the shortest verse in the Bible. Jesus’ tears remind us that grief is real and that God realizes that and truly cares what happens to us.

Ironically, this is the act that would ultimately cost Jesus his life. After this, the Sanhedrin’s step in and the journey to Jerusalem, mock trial and all, escalates. There is no turning back. Perhaps it should be our turn to weep. But we are given a new hope and a new promise. Jesus said, “Unbind him, and let him go.”…He will do the same for us. Even as this was a foreshadowing of the Resurrection, it was also a foretelling of what Jesus would do on the Cross. And the love that Jesus felt for Lazarus foretells that love for humanity that took Jesus to the Cross.

This is a good Lenten story. It is the story about the in-between. Some things don’t make sense. Some things don’t go like we plan. Creation groans towards its ultimate promise. And so we wait…and we believe.

Until recently, I have seen this story of the raising of Lazarus as an inaccessible and, in some respects, unappealing story. Lazarus is not fleshed out as a character. All we know about him is that Jesus loved him and he got sick and died. His sisters, whom we have met in Luke’s gospel, seem a little passive aggressive. Their initial note doesn’t ask Jesus to come. It just informs him of their brother’s illness. Then, when he approaches their town, they each, separately, run out and lay the identical guilt trip on him. “Lord, if you had been here, our brother would not have died.” As for Jesus, he is never more certain about the panoramic big picture than here. Lazarus’ illness will not end in death, and it will be for the glory of the Son of God. He is, at the same time, seldom more disturbed by the sights and sounds of a specific scene: the sound of mourners wailing and the stench of death.

So for many years, I have read this text and thought hmm, this is odd. And read on. So much for true confessions. This past week, I have had an epiphany. It is probably one you the reader have already had, and if so, I apologize in advance for pointing out what has long been obvious to you. The epiphany is that we are to see ourselves in Lazarus and see the miracle of his restoration of physical life as the beginning of our entry into eternal life that begins the moment we accept Jesus’ offer of relationship with us.

The sequence of the Gospel of John is the opposite of the children’s game “Show and Tell.” It is “Tell and Show.” The Prologue tells us that Jesus is the light and life of the world (Jn. 1:4, 5). The giving of sight to the man born blind (Jn. 9) and the raising of Lazarus from the dead (Jn. 11) show us Jesus giving light and life to particular human beings. We are invited to see ourselves in them and him in our lives. We are to see ourselves in Lazarus, whose name, a shortened form of Eleazar, means “God helps.” He is from a town whose name, Bethany, means “House of Affliction.” So God helps one who suffers from affliction. John takes a friendship between Jesus and this family and an event that has the quality of reminiscence and shapes it to his theological purpose (Brown, 431). Lazarus is the “one Jesus loves”; he represents all those whom Jesus loves, which includes you and me and all humankind. This story, then, is the story of our coming to life from death in this present moment, not just in a future event.

The Fourth Gospel repeatedly uses the physical realm as a metaphorical pointer to the spiritual realm. Water is a metaphor for the quenching of our spiritual thirst through Jesus’ presence; Jesus is the living water (Jn. 4:14). The bread Jesus multiplies to feed the crowd is a metaphor for the satisfaction of our spiritual hunger that Jesus brings; Jesus is the Bread from Heaven (Jn. 6:35). Sight is a metaphor for the spiritual vision and clarity that Jesus brings; Jesus is the light of the world (Jn. 8:12, and chapter 9 where Jesus gives sight to a man born blind). Here, in chapter 11, the restoration of physical life is a metaphor for breaking free from the bonds of spiritual death into the gift of eternal life that Jesus brings. Jesus is the resurrection and the life (Jn. 11:25-6: “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.”). (“Lazarus is Us: Reflections on John 11: 1-45”, by Alyce M. McKenzie, available at http://www.patheos.com/Resources/Additional-Resources/Lazarus-Is-Us-Alcye-McKenzie-04-04-2011.html, accessed 5 April, 2011.)

 

  1. What meaning does this passage hold for you?
  2. What does the image of Jesus weeping mean for you?
  3. What, for you, is the Spirit of God in you?
  4. What does it mean to truly say that we believe the words “I am the Resurrection and the Life”?

 

 Some Quotes for Further Reflection:

 

For death begins at life’s first breath; and life begins at touch of death. (John Oxenham, a.k.a. William Arthur Dunkerley, (1852-1941))

Meaning does not come to us in finished form, ready-made; it must be found, created, received, constructed. We grow our way toward it.(Ann Bedford Ulanov)

The way of Love is the way of the Cross, and it is only through the cross that we come to the Resurrection.(Malcolm Muggeridge)

Closing

Out of the depths I cry to You! In your Mercy, hear my voice! Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications! If You should number the times we stray from You, O Beloved, who could face You? Yet You are ever-ready to forgive, that we might be healed. I wait for You, my soul waits, and in your Word, I hope; My soul awaits the Beloved as one awaits the birth of a child, or as one awaits the fulfillment of their destiny. O sons and daughters of the Light, welcome the Heart of your heart! Then you will climb the Sacred Mountain of Truth; You will know mercy and love in abundance. Then will your transgressions be forgiven and redeemed. Amen.(from “Psalm 130”, in Psalms for Praying: An Invitation to Wholeness, Nan C. Merrill, p. 278)