Meditation on this Sunday's Gospel, Easter Sunday

 The readings for Easter Sunday, April 20, 2025:

First Reading: Acts 10:34-43

First Reading (Alt.): Isaiah 65:17-25

Psalm: Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 15:19-26

Second Reading (Alt.): Acts 10:34-43

Gospel: Luke 24:1-12

Gospel (Alt.): John 20:1-18

I've talked to many people who seem a bit amazed at how fast this season of Lent has zoomed by us. I've talked to several people who don't feel ready for Easter at all. Are we ever ready for Easter?

Some years feel more difficult than others.  This year, when we've had severe storms, devastating fire, political news designed to make us feel powerless, we may feel like we're more in an Ash Wednesday time.

Some years, we're ready to proclaim the risen Lord.  Other years we ask, "How can we celebrate Easter with the taste of ashes still in our mouths?"

Hear that Easter message again. Know that God is working to redeem creation in ways that we can't always see and don't often understand. But we get glimpses of it.

The earth commits to resurrection this time of year. Green sprouts shoot out from hard earth everywhere.  Even for those of us further to the south who have no real winter, this time of year brings new blooms, as the yellow tab tree blooms, and the bougainvillea seems more vivid.   Each spring, we are reminded of the cyclical nature of the world, which can bring us hope in the times in which we suffer. This, too, shall pass.

The social justice goals of past generations have come to fruition. We may be seeing ravaged populations today, but in a decade or two, we may see healing. Imagine going back to 1987 and telling everyone you saw that the Wall would soon come down, that the Soviet Union would soon be no more, and the world's stockpile of nuclear weapons would soon be reduced. No one would believe you. And yet we know it happened. We can pray for a similar outcome in Gaza and other places decimated by war.

We know that sometimes our bodies can produce miracles. We convince the cancer not to kill us this year. We abuse our physical selves with too much exercise or too much drink or too much smoke, but to our surprise, our bodies can heal.

But maybe we see those examples of resurrection as random and capricious. We taste the ash in our mouths. If we've heard the Easter story (and the Holy Week stories) again and again, we tend to forget the miraculous nature of them. Maybe we're tempted to downplay them even. Maybe we're beaten down and tired (tired of praying that the insurance company gets its act together before the next hurricane season starts, tired of praying for health and people getting sicker, tired of praying for peace in the world which never seems to come), too beaten down and tired to believe in miracles anymore.

Resist that pull towards despair, which some have called the deadliest sin, even worse than pride. We have seen miracles with our own eyes: Nelson Mandela walks out of jail to claim his place as president, for example; peace in Northern Ireland; peace in some parts of Eastern Europe. We're often too shy or scared to run out of our gardens to tell everyone else what we've seen, what we know.

We must remember we are a Resurrection People. Let us commit to new life. Let us rinse the ashes out of our mouths with the Eucharist bread and wine. Celebrate the miracles.

Holy Week Tuesday and Taxes

Today's reading from Phyllis Tickle's The Divine Hours was the story of Jesus in the Temple overturning the tables of the moneychangers.  She includes a special section for Holy Week, so that part is not as random as it might sound.

Because of where Easter falls this year, today is the day that taxes are due.  In past years, I might not have noticed.  This year, because I knew we were likely to owe money, I didn't do the taxes until later.  I got our payments in the mail yesterday (we owe federal taxes and North Carolina taxes, and we will eventually get money back from South Carolina).  It's astonishing to me that we owe federal taxes, but here we are.  We owe because for 9 months, we had health insurance through the Affordable Care Act, and then my part time job teaching shifted to full time:   good news for long term finances, bad news for taxes.

In the next two days, I need to write a Maundy Thursday sermon.  Ordinarily, that wouldn't be a problem, but I want to make sure that my sermon is different than last year's sermon.  Last year I talked a lot about foot washing.  This year, I'll shift to something else, the idea of the sacrament and how it gives us strength.  At least, that's what I'm thinking right now, before I've really started.

My brain is working on several writing projects.  I have a paper due on Monday, with a presentation to class.  I know what I plan to write.  Unlike my sermon, I've done more thinking and research for that project.  I also have a paper due two weeks from Thursday.

This morning, a happy surprise:  a line of a possible poem floated through my brain, and I opened a blank Word document to write it down.  In the past two hours, more lines have come to me, and I've written them down.  Will they cohere into a poem?  It's too soon to tell, but it's nice to feel that part of my brain click into gear again.

And, of course, there's the end of the semester grading that needs doing.  I'm keeping up, but at times, I feel overwhelmed with all that will happen in the next 4 weeks.  And then, I graduate with my MDiv.  Hurrah!

I am amazed that I am graduating, four years after I started.  It feels like no time at all, but of course, so much has happened.  At one time, in the early days, I thought it might take me six or seven years, or longer.  Of course, in the early days, I had a full-time administrator job, and I wasn't sure that the seminary would offer the classes I needed to take from a distance.

Let me shift gears one more time.  Let me think about going for a walk.  On Sunday, we had a freeze warning, and yesterday, we had record breaking heat.  I'm glad to be able to walk in the beautiful spring blooms.

Recording of Palm/Passion Sunday Sermon

If you'd rather listen to a sermon, I've posted my Palm/Passion sermon to my YouTube channel.  You can view it here.

And if you'd like to read along, I posted it yesterday here.

Sermon for Palm/Passion Sunday

April 13, 2025

By Kristin Berkey-Abbott



The Palm and Passion Narrative in Luke



Today’s readings give us all sorts of contrasts, some of which we’re aware of, some of which may be lost on us. Let’s see if we can explore some of them, and by doing so, let’s see if we can hear the story in new and relevant ways.

Our Palm Sunday narrative, the first one we read, gives us Jesus entering Jerusalem on a colt. Two thousand years later, some of the significance might be lost on us. There’s prophetic significance, which many of us have been trained to recognize. After all, we often have our Holy Week Gospel readings paired with Old Testament texts that the first century Christians would have used to interpret and understand what they had witnessed in the life of Jesus and his resurrection.

A piercing piece of information in the Palm Sunday story is the entrance of Jesus. We might hear the story of Jesus on a colt and assume that he was tired or that he was riding on a colt because an Old Testament prophet peered into the future and said that the savior of Israel would enter Jerusalem on a meager animal.

But first century believers would have contrasted the entrance of Jesus with the entrance of Caesar or Caesar’s representative, Pontius Pilate, the Roman emperor, who would likely have also had a grand entrance into Jerusalem. In their book about Holy Week, Marcus J. Borg and John Dominic Crossan point out that it was standard practice for Roman governors of Judea to come to Jerusalem for major Jewish festivals. Passover was the biggest one. Let’s be clear—they weren’t in Jerusalem because of their deep reverence for God. No, they were there in case there was trouble.

Jesus enters on a young horse. Pilate would enter on a stallion—a much more impressive steed--and he would be flanked by calvary and soldiers. Every movement would proclaim that Rome was in charge. This imperial procession would be very different from Jesus, who entered with a throng of peasants, singing songs and glorifying God.

If we didn’t already know the implications of this contrast, we might think that the Jewish leaders would be happy at the proclamations of the people. But we know that these two contrasting triumphant entries set the stage for what is to come. Jesus enters on a colt, with people pledging allegiance to God, not Caesar. The contrast between the Kingdom of God and the Empire of Earth isn’t always this visible. We shouldn’t blame the religious leaders for wishing the people would quiet down. This kind of behavior isn’t the kind that will go well when imperial powers take notice. Anyone aligned with the Romans would see this as a piece of performance art that made a mockery of Roman power.

And those people in alignment with Roman power are in Jerusalem, and they will take notice of this demonstration. Jesus has been on a collision course with Rome for a long time as he taught resistance techniques and insisted on justice. This week is the time it will come to a boiling point.

The Holy Week texts show us all the ways that nearly everyone betrays Jesus, each in their own contrasting way. The crowds who are so enthusiastic on Palm Sunday demand Jesus’ death by Friday. What has changed their minds? What were they hoping would happen and why do they feel so angry that they would rather have Barabbas, a murderer and a terrorizing insurrectionist, back in the community than Jesus, the one who fed and healed them and drove out demons from their midst?

When we think about the betrayals of Holy Week, we probably think about Judas and Peter, but look at that Last Supper text again. We see that the disciples still don’t understand what Jesus has called them to do. In Luke 22: 24, the disciples show that they still don’t understand the nature of the Messiah with whom they have spent so much time. They seem to think that they are operating in a system with a familiar hierarchy, the kind of hierarchy announced with imperial processions and royal armies. If Jesus is the head of the organization, then who gets to be the greatest after him, the second in command? Once again, in verses 25-27, Jesus reminds the disciples of the different kind of system he has come to implement, one based on service, not being in charge. The inbreaking kingdom of God will be different from the world they have experienced. In God’s inbreaking Kingdom, the least will be first.

We might do some comparing of ourselves with these people of ancient times. We might think that we would never betray Jesus in this way, enthusiastic on Sunday, disillusioned and bitter by Friday. We might think that we would never be like those disciples, the ones who don’t understand what Jesus calls them to do. We might say that we would never sell out Jesus with coin or kiss. We might say that we would never deny knowing Jesus three times before the cock crows.

The good news of this Holy Week story is that Jesus does what he came to do, regardless of the reaction of those around him. Even on the cross, Jesus continues his mission of forgiveness and redemption. Luke is the only gospel where Jesus prays, “Father forgive them, for they know not what they do.” While he is dying on a cross, Jesus asks for forgiveness for those who nailed him up there. In Luke, the thief on one side of him asks to be remembered, and Jesus invites him to come to Paradise too—redemption, even in the midst of death.

When I think about the contrasts in the Holy Week story, this contrast between life and death, between the world that crucifies and the one that redeems—this contrast is the greatest one. Jesus comes into our broken world, which tries in every way to break him, and even in the most gruesome death, Jesus remains unbroken by the forces which send everyone else whimpering away. Even in the agony of the cross, Jesus still proclaims that the Kingdom of God is at hand.

In a world that tries to slaughter all that we hold dear, that message is Good News. That Good News has been delivered by angel choirs in the skies over Bethlehem, through a distant star that spoke to wise observers far away, in the words and actions of Jesus, and in the lives of two thousand centuries of believers. Let us hear it with fresh ears this morning: The Kingdom of God is at hand. Let us go proclaim it.

Scraps from Quilt Camp

 It's been a great week, tiring but great.  Let me record some bits and pieces that I want to remember.

--In years to come, I will remember this week as one where I did a lot of sewing.  Yesterday, as I cut cloth into strips, I thought about how satisfying it is, the feel of the cloth, the sound of the scissors slicing through it.

--I asked for scraps that people would throw away because we'll need them for the upcoming Create in Me retreat.  I'm surprised by the amount of cloth that people would ordinarily throw away, and it's not just selvage and other bits of cloth that don't have a quarter inch bit for a seam allowance.  I've been scavenging the scraps too.  A lot of these scraps are high quality fabric.

--Yesterday, we had a small field trip.  No not to a quilt or fabric shop--I went with a friend I first made through the Create in Me retreat to see another friend we met through that retreat.  He works at Raven and Crone, the kind of store that I thought didn't exist in a physical form anymore.  It sells rocks and crystals, herbs and spices and teas, books, incense, jewelry, candles, bath products.  Delightful!  I bought three small polished rocks because they had beautiful colors and reminded me of childhood.  I bought a bag of loose tea.  Our friend who works there formulates and mixes them, and he was a chemistry major before he was a pastor, so I trust the tea.  Yesterday afternoon I brewed a cup, and it's delicious.

--We have had amazing food.  That's not unusual for non-summer camp, but I do remember a day when even adult camp was not this delicious. 

--We did chair yoga on Wednesday.  It's amazing how much we can stretch in just twenty minutes.

--I've been walking a bit each day.  There are some folks here at Quilt Camp who are grateful for a chance to stretch in this way.  We have different kinds of conversations as we walk.  When people are absorbed in their quilting, it's harder to talk, so it's great to take a break.

----One of my walking friends knows a lot about plants, and she's identified some that I didn't know.  Beautiful!

--Yesterday we walked down my street.  I told them I wouldn't invite them in because my spouse was spackling and I didn't want them to risk ruining their clothes.  

--As we walked down my street, I was struck as I often am, on a daily basis, by gratitude.  I am grateful that I live in this neighborhood, in this church camp, in this town, in this part of the Appalachian mountains.  I am hugely grateful that we sold our house in Florida, at a time when someone still wanted to buy it.  It's a good place to weather the political and climate chaos that is surely upon us.

Last Full Day of Quilt Camp

 It's been a good few days at Quilt Camp.  I have two quilt tops I've been working on, and while I've made progress, they are still not done.  It looks like this one should be done when I stretch it on the design wall:

But stretched on the bed, it's not wide enough yet:

My other quilt top is similarly not finished yet.  Happily I have time and scraps and love doing the work.  Fortunately, we're not depending on the quilts I'm making to keep us from freezing to death in the winter.

At Quilt Camp, the projects of other quilters inspires me too.  Yesterday, I loved seeing these notecards made of scraps sewn on cardstock:

Here's the back of those cards:

And here's an abstract design:

Last night I came back to my nearby Lutheridge house because I have seminary class on Thursday nights.  I only have a few class meetings left, and this class which explores Christmas and Easter without the ministry in between, is one of the best classes I've ever taken in all of my student years.

Today is another day, the last full day, of sewing and socializing.  It's going to be wonderful, and I'm already feeling sad that Quilt Camp is soon over.  

Ways to Greet the Day: Lost Lenses or Fabric in Our Hands

It has already been a strange morning.  I put on my glasses that I use to read the computer when my contacts aren't in, and I thought my vision was odd.  I took them off and realized I didn't have as much trouble reading the computer screen as usual.  I thought it was my left eye that was strange.  Could I have left a contact lens in?  I touched my eye, and it didn't seem to be there.  The contact wasn't in the lens case.  Long story short:  last night, I took the lens out of my left eye, put it in the right side of the case, and left my right contact lens in my eye all night.  So I put the lenses in their proper case and later, I may or may not put them in my eyes.

I have that kind of flexibility today because I'm not driving down to Spartanburg; today is the first full day of spring Quilt Camp at Lutheridge!

Yesterday was also strange.  I did a lot of prepping to get ready for my time away, and then I headed over to the audiologist to get her help with my hearing aid.  It has a protective part at the end, designed to be removed, and when I took my hearing aid out on Monday, the protective part stayed in my ear.  Happily, it was easy for her to remove.  I didn't panic on Monday--well, after the first bit of panic--because I reasoned that the tip is designed to be in my ear canal for long periods of time.

Once I got back from the audiologist, it was off to work.  It was a good teaching day.

I drove back to North Carolina and stopped at the Faith Center on my way in.  I don't have as much to unload as the Quilt Camp folks who come with two sewing machines, a chair, and an extra table, but it does take me several trips back and forth to the car to get all my cloth around me.

I went to dinner with some friends; most Quilt Camp meals will be served at the dining hall, but meals don't start until the first full day, today.  I'm really looking forward to breakfasts that are much more than my usual bowl of enhanced oatmeal.

Since I am up early anyway, I'm the one who opens the Faith Center for those of us who want to greet the sunrise with fabric in our hands.  Let me close this post so I can get ready.