Note: In honor of Holy Saturday, we will not have an edition of Saturday Ramblings today. We will have a “links” post early in the week to come.

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For I handed on to you as of first importance what I in turn had received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures, and that he was buried, and that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures…

– 1 Corinthians 15:3-4

One of the richest books of theology I have read in recent years is Alan E. Lewis’s meditation on Holy Saturday called, Between Cross and Resurrection. I know I shall be returning to it again and again, so fulsome is the consideration of its subject, and so profoundly challenging it is to the shallow ways I contemplate the mystery of Christ’s sufferings and exaltation.

Lewis recognizes the slender amount of material that the Bible devotes to the time between Good Friday and Easter. He observes that John’s Gospel, in particular, anticipates the victory of the resurrection even while Jesus is yet on the cross, rendering his final words, “It is finished!” — a victory cry. However, Lewis also recognizes that John’s Upper Room Discourse (chapters 13-17), which comes before the story of the cross, anticipates the desolation the disciples would feel after Jesus’ death and before they saw him again. Generally speaking, in the chronological narratives of the Gospels it is primarily the later inclusion of chapter divisions that gives us a chance to pause between the accounts of Jesus’ death and his resurrection.

Nevertheless, in summarizing the gospel story, Paul explicitly includes Jesus’ burial followed by his resurrection on the “third day” (1Cor. 15 – see above). The Creeds, succinct as they are, also emphasize this detail as well as the intriguing fact of his “descent to hell.” In the Westminster Shorter Catechism we read of Jesus “being buried, and continuing under the power of death for a time.” Thus has the Church traditionally held that a faithful telling of the Jesus story must include the fact that he lay in the grave, dead, between the cross and resurrection. As Lewis says,

Here, we are told, we must stop and ponder, must absorb the brutal facts, let the realization sink slowly in that Christ’s life is finished and done, that he has drunk the cup of mortality to its last, most hellish drop.

The author notes that a failure to make a proper, sustained pause between Good Friday and Easter threatens our full appreciation of both Jesus’ death and and his resurrection. Moving too quickly from the cross to the empty tomb, we fail to grasp the depths of Jesus’ suffering; what it means that God suffered and died that day. Nor can we know the wonder, power, and hope of “He is risen!” unless we feel the full weight of God lying lifeless in the grave during an interval of utter despair when no such hope was even conceivable.

For this reason I will be attending Easter Vigil tonight. Having witnessed the stripping of the altar on Thursday, and having descended into darkness with the congregation in Good Friday’s Tenebrae service, on Saturday we gather in the chill of the evening air around a fire as the sun sets. The liturgy includes words like this: “May the light of Christ rising in glory dispel the darkness of our hearts and minds.”

We then proceed together into a dark sanctuary following a new Paschal Candle. As the service goes on, we light more and more candles and the light grows. Wonderful texts from the Bible are read, reciting the great salvific acts of God. We renew our baptismal vows and celebrate with those coming to be baptized. Darkness turns to light. Buried with Christ in baptism, we rise to walk with him in newness of life.

This is the pinnacle of the Church Year. The light of Easter shines much brighter for me now that I explicitly acknowledge the darkness of Holy Saturday.

We wrap up with a quote from Lewis:

In summary, the complex, multiple meaning of the story will only emerge as we hold in tension what the cross says on its own, what the resurrection says on its own, and what each of them says when interpreted in the light of the other. It would not be impossible to graph the entire history of church doctrine and life by plotting the interpretations which have failed to give due weight to one or the other of these essentials in the story by which and for which the Christian community lives. We might discover that the second day, which serves both to keep the first and the third days apart in their separate identities and to unite them in their indivisibility, offers a useful stance from which to make one more effort at a properly multivocal, stereophonic hearing of the gospel story.

– Between Cross and Resurrection: A Theology of Holy Saturday
Alan E. Lewis

Sometimes, I’ve got nothing.

Nothing to write about. No insightful words to impart. No interesting metaphors to spark the imagination. No provocative prose, no poetry to prime the pump. I’m sitting and trying to think, but everything is fuzzy, my mind full of inchoate thoughts, like bats fluttering around in an attic.

I get the sense that these are auspicious days, that we have important things to talk about, that if we don’t we might miss the moment and the parade will have passed us by. But I’m blank, bleary, and “I don’t find this stuff amusing anymore” (Paul Simon).

I’m like the disciples on Thursday evening.

There I am, in the upper room — right there mind you — but I haven’t a clue about what’s going on.

Jesus is washing our feet (what?) and Peter is complaining (of course!).

We recline around the table and though the tension is palpable, no one can seem to put a finger on it.

Between bites Jesus is saying something about going away.

There are whispered conversations between him and individual disciples.

Every now and then I suspect covert signals are being passed, but I’m apparently outside the loop.

John leans over and whispers to the Master.

Judas leaves the room.

I keep hearing mysterious words and combinations of words, like body and bread, paracletes and orphans, branches and vines, wine and blood, joy and tribulation, judgment and the ruler of this world — what in the world is Jesus talking about?

To see him is to see the Father?

To be hated by the world is to be loved by the Father?

For Jesus to go away is better than to have him with us?

I’m in over my head and feel as clueless as Alice at a tea party.

The Hatter opened his eyes very wide on hearing this; but all he SAID was, `Why is a raven like a writing-desk?’

`Come, we shall have some fun now!’ thought Alice. `I’m glad they’ve begun asking riddles.–I believe I can guess that,’ she added aloud.

`Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?’ said the March Hare.

`Exactly so,’ said Alice.

`Then you should say what you mean,’ the March Hare went on.

`I do,’ Alice hastily replied; `at least–at least I mean what I say–that’s the same thing, you know.’

`Not the same thing a bit!’ said the Hatter. `You might just as well say that “I see what I eat” is the same thing as “I eat what I see”!’

`You might just as well say,’ added the March Hare, `that “I like what I get” is the same thing as “I get what I like”!’

`You might just as well say,’ added the Dormouse, who seemed to be talking in his sleep, `that “I breathe when I sleep” is the same thing as “I sleep when I breathe”!’

`It IS the same thing with you,’ said the Hatter, and here the conversation dropped, and the party sat silent for a minute, while Alice thought over all she could remember about ravens and writing-desks, which wasn’t much.

I suppose it will all make sense eventually.

I suppose I’ll find words to articulate this fog.

Maybe tomorrow, on Friday, things will be clearer.

Then Jesus entered the temple and drove out all who were selling and buying in the temple, and he overturned the tables of the money-changers and the seats of those who sold doves. He said to them, ‘It is written,

“My house shall be called a house of prayer”;
but you are making it a den of robbers.’

The blind and the lame came to him in the temple, and he cured them. But when the chief priests and the scribes saw the amazing things that he did, and heard the children crying out in the temple, ‘Hosanna to the Son of David’, they became angry and said to him, ‘Do you hear what these are saying?’ Jesus said to them, ‘Yes; have you never read,

“Out of the mouths of infants and nursing babies
you have prepared praise for yourself”?’

– Matthew 21:12-16, NRSV

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Much that happened during Passion Week took place in and around the Temple. In fact, according to N.T. Wright, the events of that week might be summarized by the question, “The Temple or Jesus?”

In the following video clip, Wright explains how Jesus’ ministry was designed to counteract “Temple” theology and how he pointed to himself as the One who would supersede the “signpost” of the Temple and bring to pass the reality to which it pointed.

Zechariah 9-14 was a key passage for the evangelists who told the story of Passion Week in the Gospels. In volume two of his “Christian Origins” series, Jesus and the Victory of God, N.T. Wright gives an overview of the subjects addressed in this text:

The writer promises the long-awaited arrival of the true king (9:9-10), the renewed covenant and the real return from exile (9:11-12), the violent defeat of Israel’s enemies and the rescue of the true people of YHWH (9:13-17). At the moment, however, Israel are like sheep without a shepherd (10:2); they have shepherds but they are not doing their job, and will be punished (10:3) as part of the divine plan for the return from exile (10:6-12). The prophet is himself instructed to act as a shepherd, but in doing so to symbolize the worthless shepherds who are currently ruling Israel (11:4-17). There will be a great battle between Israel and the nations, in which ‘the house of David shall be like God, like the angel of YHWH, at the head’ of the inhabitants of Jerusalem (12:1-9, quotation from verse 8). There will be great mourning for ‘one whom they have pierced’ (12:10; a ‘fountain…for the house of David and the inhabitants of Jerusalem, to cleanse them from sin and impurity’ (13:1); a judgment upon the prophets of Israel (13:2-6); and judgment, too, on the shepherd of Israel, who will be struck down, and the sheep scattered (13:7). In another reminiscence of Ezekiel, this will have the effect of destroying two-thirds of the people, while the remaining one-third will be purified, to be in truth the people of YHWH (13:8-9). The book concludes with the great drama in which all the nations will be gathered together to fight against Jerusalem; YHWH will win a great victory, becoming king indeed, judging the nations and sanctifying Jerusalem (14:1-21).

As you can see, this is a remarkable, complex section of prophecy. Analyzing it all is beyond the scope of our purpose here. We are simply observing that these rich texts inform the narrative of that fateful week in Jerusalem as told by the Gospel-writers. Many of these themes became visible at the climactic moment of Jesus’ life and ministry.

I encourage us all to read through Zechariah 9-14 during this Passion Week. May its powerful images awaken our sacred imaginations and make what happened to Jesus during that week more vivid to our minds and hearts, awakening faith and gratitude.

Continue reading “Holy Week with Zechariah (2): Woe to Toxic Leadership”

…let him come down from the cross now, and we will believe in him.

– Matthew 27:42

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At Mockingbird, they have this helpful entry on the subject of “Theology of Glory” in their site glossary:

Theologies of glory are approaches to Christianity and to life that try in various ways to minimize difficult and painful things, or else to defeat and move past them, rather than looking them square in the face and accepting them. In particular, they acknowledge the cross, but view it primarily as a means to an end – an unpleasant but necessary step on the way to good things in the future, especially salvation, the transformation of human potential by God and the triumph of the Kingdom of God in the world. As Luther puts it, the theologian of glory ‘does not know God hidden in suffering. Therefore he prefers works to suffering, glory to the cross, strength to weakness, wisdom to folly, and, in general, good to evil’ (The Heidelberg Disputation, Proof to Thesis XXI). This is the natural default setting for human beings. A theology of the cross, by contrast, sees the cross as revealing the fundamental nature of God’s involvement in the world this side of heaven.

That last sentence is striking. “The fundamental nature of God’s involvement in the world this side of heaven” is the way of the cross.

People don’t like that. I don’t like that.

I want a God I can see, not a God who is hidden.

I want a God who will convince me beyond a shadow of a doubt that he is living and active and on my side.

I want spectacular answers to prayer.

I want to witness remarkable events that can only be explained by God’s intervention.

I want tangible evidence that faith pays off, not only in the end but here and now.

I want a God who solves my problems, eases my pain, answers my questions, and makes me successful.

I want God to enable me to do good works so I can feel good about myself and my contribution to the world.

I want to be made strong, confident, optimistic, fit for the long haul.

I want insight into how life works so that I can follow the right steps and help others do the same.

I want a God who makes a way in the wilderness, not one who leads and leaves me there.

I want fulfillment in my work, health and happiness in my family, grace and cooperation among my neighbors, peace, security, and ample provision in my world.

I want to hear God speak. I detest silence.

I want God to show up when I need God. On time. Bringing what I need.

I don’t want a God who bleeds, who thirsts, who worries about his mother, who lets clueless, cruel people drive nails through his hands and feet, whose lifeless body is carried away by weeping women and timid men.

I don’t want a God who forgives people who do things like this. I want them to pay dearly.

I’m with the crowd here: “Let him come down from the cross now, and we will believe in him.”

Show us, God. Prove yourself. Let us see, let us hear, let us experience your power and glory.

And the one on the cross says not a word.

A book which, as we have already seen, was arguably of great influence on Jesus, and which contained dark hints about the necessary suffering of the people of YHWH, is of course Zechariah, particularly its second part (chapters 9-14).

…The underlying theme of the passage, as of so much Jewish literature of the period, is the establishment of YHWH’s kingship, the rescue of Israel from oppression and exile, and the judgment both of the nations and of wicked leaders within Israel herself….

…There should be no doubt that Jesus knew this whole passage, and that he saw it as centrally constitutive of his own vocation, at the level not just of ideas but of agendas.

– N.T. Wright
Jesus and the Victory of God

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Zechariah, whose oracles are included as a portion of the Book of the Twelve Prophets in the Hebrew Bible, was apparently on Jesus’ mind during Holy Week (especially the part of his book we know as chapters 9-14). Reason enough that these texts might be a source for our own contemplation during these days leading up to the Passion.

Probably the most familiar passage from this prophetic book is the one that mirrors the events on what we call Palm Sunday. This was the day of Jesus’ “Triumphal Entry” into Jerusalem.

Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion!
  Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem!
Lo, your king comes to you;
  triumphant and victorious is he,
humble and riding on a donkey,
  on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
He will cut off the chariot from Ephraim
  and the warhorse from Jerusalem;
and the battle-bow shall be cut off,
  and he shall command peace to the nations;
his dominion shall be from sea to sea,
  and from the River to the ends of the earth.

– Zechariah 9:9-10, NRSV

The Palm Sunday story is one of those rare events that is recorded in all four Gospels: in (1) Matt. 21:1-9, (2) Mark 11:1-10, (3) Luke 19:28-40, and (4) John 12:12-19. All four Gospels link the narrative with Psalm 118 (esp. vv. 25-26), another passage that plays a key role in the Gospel accounts of Passion week. It is Matthew and John that specifically mention Zechariah 9 (Matt 21:5/John 12:15), but it is obvious that each evangelist is drawing clear allusions to the prophet’s words in that chapter.

We can make the following simple observations from this text:

1. This was to be a day of great rejoicing in Israel and Jerusalem.

2. This day would mark the coming of their victorious king.

3. Their king would present himself to them in humility — riding on a donkey.

4. His victory would mean the end of warfare, his reign would mean peace.

5. His rule would be universal.

N.T. Wright calls Jesus’ enactment of this prophecy on Palm Sunday, “a mismatch between our expectations and God’s answer.”

Sure, we all love a parade, and the crowd on that day by all accounts was celebrating and feeling good about their prospects as they cheered on Jesus. Furthermore, they explicitly recognized him in “son of David” language — they identified Jesus with the Messianic King. He was the One who had “come in the name of the Lord,” and they blessed him and cried out to him, “Hosanna!” (Lord, save us!). They cast down their cloaks before him, as the people had done before Jehu, king of Israel (2Kings 9:13). They cut down palm branches and spread them before his way (the ancient way of giving the “red carpet” treatment). This was reminiscent of the welcome Simon of the Maccabees had received 200 years before (1Maccabees 13:51). (Simon also cleansed the temple like Jesus, but that’s a story for another day.)

Clearly, the people saw Jesus in terms of victory over their enemies and restoration of the Davidic dynasty. In short, they were hoping Jesus would bring an end to the “exile” experience that they had been dealing with for hundreds of years. On Palm Sunday, they thought the time had arrived when they were going to win.

This is what they were expecting. God, in Jesus, had something else in mind.

• They wanted deliverance, but there were greater enemies than Rome ruling over them. This king had come to set them free from evil powers, not enemy peoples.

• They wanted a king to bring them victory, but the one who came would win only by losing.

• They wanted their pride and renown as a nation restored, but their king would call them to take up a cross and follow him.

• They wanted a special place among the nations, in a promised land, ruling over the peoples of the earth. However, their king offered welcome, on an equal basis, to people from all nations in order that he might call them his sons and daughters as well.

• They wanted change, security, power and control. He offered them a servant’s position, and life that can only be gained by dying.

What am I expecting during this Holy Week?

What words and symbolic actions will King Jesus use to speak to me of his ways, which are infinitely higher than mine?