Lent 2016, Day 16: February 25 (Luke 9:28-45)

It seems lately that sleep is a luxury the disciples can ill afford. Between the constant presence and intrusion of the crowd and the urgent pace set by Jesus, there’s just no time to sit back and grab a nap. What’s a bunch of hardworking fishermen to do?

Jesus pulls the three aside for a quick run up the mountain and a quiet time of prayer. Exhausted from the non-stop work of the last few weeks, Peter, James and John quickly and easily succumb to sleep while Jesus prays alone.

The low murmur of voices causes Peter to stir. Opening his eyes, he is immediately blinded by a glorious light. Three men – one dazzling white – are finishing a conversation and preparing to part company. And not just any three men: it’s Jesus, Moses and Elijah. And this isn’t just any conversation: they’re talking about Jesus’ Exodus.

Peter (kicking himself because he definitely just missed out on something major) tries to inject himself into their conversation and awkwardly blurts, “Gee, it’s a good thing us grunts are here. There’s three of us and three of you. How about each of us set up a tent for each of you?”

Before he can finish his thought, the mountain is enveloped in cloud (“Then the cloud covered the Tabernacle, and the glory of the Lord filled the Tabernacle.” Ex 40:34) and the very voice of God says, “Shut up Peter. Remember who you’re talking to – that’s my Son, and I could not be more pleased with Him.”

Luke says that Peter did not know what he was saying – but what if he did? What if he was offering to put up tents for Jesus, Moses and Elijah because he thought this was the new plan or, rather, that this was a literal intersection and fulfillment of prophecy concerning the promise of a Savior, the coming of a prophet like Moses, and the return of Elijah. What if Peter’s first thought upon opening his eyes was to scream, “Jackpot!”?

Whatever he knew and whatever his intent, he is rebuked and corrected once again (this time by the very voice of God). Closing and opening his eyes once more, Peter (and the other two disciples) are left with “just” Jesus. Are they disappointed we wonder?

If anything, they are unnerved by what they’ve seen. It’s clear they don’t understand it. Did this count as the return of Elijah as foretold? Did this count as the coming of the prophet like Moses? Afraid of asking stupid questions – and of receiving answers they cannot comprehend – the three remain somewhat subdued as they walk down the mountain in search of the other disciples. It’s only later (after they’ve received the gift of the Holy Spirit) that this experience will become more fully clear.

At the foot of the mountain is the crowd, demanding Jesus’ attention and healing. The crowd is losing patience with Jesus. He, for His part, is starting to return the favor.

Fully mindful of how the crowd will soon spit upon Him while they demand that Barabbas be released, Jesus names them faithless. Fully aware of how easily the crowd is swayed by the promise of fleeting, temporal things such as money and status – and how they have chosen these things over the free gift of eternal life – He names them twisted. And then, cryptically, He hints that His time is brief and that He will not bear with them much longer.

The father of a demon-possessed boy steps out from the crowd. He’s out shopping for a faith healer. For whatever reason – maybe he’s tired, maybe he’s burned out – the father sounds jaded and defeated, and he has little compassion for his son. There’s an underlying disrespectful tone to his plea – one to which Jesus immediately takes exception.

“Hey Teacher,” says the father, “I’m beggin’ ya to take a look at my kid, eh? You wouldn’t believe what I have to put up with – all the yelling, the spitting up, the shaking. I can’t take it. And this is my only kid, so what am I supposed to do? I was beggin’ your disciples to fix him but – just like I figured – they couldn’t do it. How’s about you give it a try?”

(If the disciples have any real grasp of the situation they should be standing there horrified. But because they don’t, they lean in to see what “trick” Jesus will use to fix “da kid” so they can prevent a repeat of their own failure to heal the boy.)

Simply, cleanly, quickly Jesus rebukes the unclean spirit, heals the boy and returns him to his father.

As Jesus raises the little boy to his feet, Peter considers the mountaintop visitors and what might have been a missed opportunity to electrify the nation. Slowly, he begins to realize that having “just” Jesus means far more than he could ever imagine.

Lent 2016 - Day 15: February 24 (Luke 9:11-27)

The disciples are home! Fresh from a successful missions trip, they are eager to tell Jesus about all they’ve seen and done. Jesus, for His part, seems a little subdued. The disciples may not know it at the time, but Jesus has just learned that His cousin John has been beheaded on a whim. Now that the last and greatest prophet of the Old Covenant has been killed in a most symbolic and despicable manner, the New Covenant – and the New Kingdom – can enter in. It is a bittersweet moment for Jesus. 

Despite the need for debriefing and introspection, there is neither time nor opportunity. The crowd is here yet again. It is particularly telling that, on this occasion, the crowd is so hyper focused on its immediate need for healing that they forget or fail to bring food. Always short-sighted and ravenous, the crowd cannot see beyond its next meal. No wonder they will prove themselves so fickle in just a few months’ time.

The disciples are feeling pretty accomplished. Flush with their recent success (“We got this!”), they put their newfound administrative skills to work, set up an ad hoc committee to survey the crowd and complete a feasibility study in short order. 

“Here’s what we know,” they tell Jesus. “They’re hungry.”

“So feed them,” says Jesus. 

“We can’t! Well, that’s not quite true. We have two options: send them away to fend for themselves or feed only a few with the five loaves and two fishes we have. OK, three options. If we absolutely have to, we can go shopping and set up a soup kitchen.”

What the disciples have to say sounds perfectly reasonable and rational. The need is too great for the resources at hand. They cannot possibly do this, which is all the more reason why Jesus seizes the opportunity to remind them that – a very short time ago – God granted them with power and authority over all demons and to cure diseases. Surely God can feed a few thousand Israelites in the wilderness, can’t He? 

What happens next sounds like a simple communal meal – except no meal was prepared. There are no cook tents to be set up, no pots and pans to wash, no cook fires to be tended and no wrappers to be collected. Just food – sudden, miraculous food. And with a nod to those Israelites in the wilderness, the provision is not only abundant – it is perfect. The people are fed to their satisfaction and the disciples – who’ve been pressed into service – are left with perfectly sized individual portions (happy meals, indeed) of their own.

At what point, we wonder, does the miracle take place? Is it when Jesus blesses the food and begins to distribute it? Or is it when the disciples, full of faith, keep returning to Jesus for more food to distribute? Or do the baskets remain full as they are passed around? We don’t know, and it doesn’t really matter. What matters is that the disciples didn’t question Jesus’ plan even though it directly contradicted their understanding of the situation. Instead, they just kept coming to Him in faith and in so doing, found satisfaction.

There’s another echo here of another time, another prophet, and it comes at a propitious moment. Elisha performed a similar feat on a smaller scale early in his ministry. While, admittedly, he was no Elijah, he was no slouch, either, and he was given a double portion of Elijah’s spirit. There are signs here to be read for those who have eyes – words to be heard for those who have ears.

It’s time for Jesus to ask his disciples what they’ve seen and heard – what they’ve figured out – and to uncouple them from their affinity for the crowd. It’s time for a serious reality check.

Looking up from prayer, Jesus asks: “Who do the crowds say that I am?” It seems a casual question, and yet it was one that Jesus prayed about before asking. Therefore, it is a question that is carefully asked. 

The disciples tick off the possibilities on their fingers: John the Baptist (ouch), Elijah, one of the prophets of old (Elisha). None of these are anywhere near the realm of possibility, nor do they coincide with scripture. The crowd, drunk on its own need, is clearly not thinking nor is it considering Jesus as anything more than a faith healer who puts out an occasional meal.

“But who do you say that I am?”

And Peter answered, “The Christ of God.”

(Judas, looking up from his hourly perusal of the moneybag, scowls at Peter and mouths the words, “Suck up!”)

Elsewhere, Matthew tells us that Jesus praises Peter for this statement. Luke, however, focuses on the fact that Jesus does not want them to be deceived. Being the Son of Man, the Christ of God, is not like being Homecoming King. It’s not a popularity contest, because the Kingdom of God is not a popular movement. It’s not a political office, because the Kingdom of God is a spiritual kingdom – not a physical one. 

In fact, Jesus tells them. Being the Son of God – the Christ of God – means He will suffer many things, be rejected by the very people who have been waiting and looking for Him, be killed and then be resurrected from the dead.

The disciples can be heard flipping through their pocket-sized copies of the Torah muttering, “I don’t get that at all from reading this…Where is that again?”

But wait, says Jesus, there’s more.

If you thought I was calling you to become giants in your community, generals of troops whose honor and privilege it is to restore the nation of Israel to its former glory and to usurp Rome as the world superpower…if you thought I was at the head of a revolution to tear down the oligarchy and redistribute their wealth to ourselves first and then to the poor…if you thought that by following me you would have power, wealth, security, popularity and the approval of others…you were wrong. Really, really wrong.

I am being called to suffer, to be rejected, executed and resurrected. And because you are my disciples, I am calling you to be the same.

(There’s a loud thump in the back as Judas – digging deep into the moneybag for what he’s sure is a denarius – knocks a lamp off a table.)

Jesus, the first, last and best prophet of the New Covenant, tells them plainly: I will be tried on trumped up charges by the priests and scribes, turned over to the Gentiles and killed. It will not be a glorious death. I will be executed as a criminal. I will be crucified. Are you ready to walk this path with Me?

Sadly, you can hear the crickets chirp. No one says a word. And then, from the back, you can hear Judas jingle a few newfound coins in his greedy, grubby hand.

Lent 2016, Day 14: February 23 (Luke 9:1-10)

Today is an important day. Jesus is starting to take the training wheels off. A number of important signs and events are about to take place, and Jesus is racing against the clock to shape the disciples into The Apostles. Time is running out. The question “Who is Jesus?” is about to be asked, and Jesus needs to make sure the disciples have all the information they need to answer it correctly.

“Enough theory!” says Jesus. “It’s time now for you to get out and do.”

Jesus gives them a specific short-term assignment: heal the sick, cast out demons and – most importantly – proclaim the kingdom of God. In giving them this task, Jesus wants to make them rely on God for all their needs, so He strips away all the physical support they might expect to carry along with them. “Don’t take anything with you,” says Jesus. “I want you to look – and live – like you just stepped out your front door for a walk around the block. Find God’s peace and provision in this moment and then carry that moment forward with you.”

Jesus then couples and complements their physical need with spiritual power by giving them authority over demons and disease. Like a one-two punch, it gives the disciples an added boost of effectiveness and confidence. Truly, they know that God is with them – who can stand against them? Jesus is commissioning His Freedom Fighters for their first solo mission. What could be more exciting?

This is also an ominous day. Luke reminds us that Jesus’ ministry – while growing in power and influence – is not operating in a vacuum. Like it or not, Jesus has stepped into a very crowded, dangerous and political ring. Alliances between the Pharisees and the Sadducees are liquid at best, and already there is talk that the priesthood is for sale. Later, when they reject Pilate’s offer to give them Jesus in favor of Barabbas, that invoice will come due.

Even as Jesus foments spiritual revolution, political revolution is on many minds and many lips, and spies are ever present. Out on the fringes of the crowd, someone is observing Jesus and reporting back to Herod. But because they are clearly not “in the know,” the information Herod receives is spotty, incorrect, and confusing at best. Faced with almost daily conspiracies to fuel his raging paranoia, Herod feels besieged. It seems that every time he kills a prophet, another takes his place. Little does he know that Jesus is busy training nearly a dozen to rise up after Him.

The Pharisees, too, spy on Jesus – openly – as they walk beside Him, recording everything He says and examining every word for opportunities to corner Him, condemn Him, and manipulate Him against the Romans and one another. Jesus is wary and aware but not afraid. He knows the time has not yet come for open betrayal, and He works to reach as many of the old guard as He can. Many of these men are Godly men – accomplished scholars and true disciples of Moses who are eagerly awaiting the Messiah’s Coming and determined to daily examine the Scriptures for the necessary proofs. Others, sadly, are not. Instead, they regard Jesus as a game piece to be moved across – or removed from – a vast board that stretches all the way to Rome.

Jesus isn’t worried about the Pharisees or Herod – that old fox – despite the Pharisees’ warnings. As Jesus sends the disciples out with power, it’s those closest to Him that occupy His thoughts and prayers. It’s the men of the knife – the sicarii – and one in particular (ish sicarii) that He has His eye on.

Lent 2016, Day 13: February 22 (Luke 8:40-56)

The crowd is both a good thing and a bad thing for her. It is good in that she can easily conceal herself within it. No one pays much attention to women in the first place, she thinks, and her modest attire helps amplify her anonymity. It is bad in that if she is not careful in all this jostling, the blood will blossom on the front of her robe and she will cause a panic. How ironic that a culture steeped in blood has such an institutionalized fear of it.

Thanks to her condition, she lives a highly compartmentalized life. It doesn’t really matter how she got it – the doctors have never been able to pinpoint a cause, much less a cure – but she has made it her life’s work to find healing. Seminars, self-help books, workout tapes, juicing – nothing has worked.

She has adopted her illness as if it were a child, making a space for it in her life and providing for its every need. Each outfit, every activity, all social interaction is carefully planned. Every waking moment is spent in hyper vigilance to ensure that no one sees, no one suspects. As a result, she is frustrated and broke and desperate beyond belief.

She has kept this secret for 12 years now, sharing it only with the most expensive of doctors within the sanctity of the diagnostic confessional. Should her secret become widely known, she would be forcibly expelled from her community and even her family. She is well skilled at dodging commitments and activities that might expose her (“Visit the mikveh? Oh no, I can’t. I’m much too shy!”), but after 12 years the excuses are wearing painfully thin. And she is so very, very tired.

The stress of living a double life has only served to increase her illness and her isolation. She is friendless, alone, defensive and cornered. Quite frankly, she just wants it all to be over. Jesus is her last (and best) hope.

She does not begrudge Jairus his request. She knows him from the synagogue (she sits in the back), and he has even tried to be kind to her on occasion. “If he only knew!” she chuckles. “How horrified he would be to learn that he’s been unclean all this time!” She checks herself – that’s not very kind. If she were him, she’d be horrified too. In fact, it’s her horror of her uncleanness that has driven her to such desperation.

Jairus unwittingly serves as an excellent distraction, which allows her to improvise a plan: wait until Jesus is on the move, squeeze between the two disciples to His right (John and Andrew), pretend to trip (or faint) if necessary, and reach out to touch Him to steady herself. It’s a perfectly innocent-seeming gesture, especially in this boiling crowd (she’s already had her foot stepped on twice).

In the end, it’s the dismount that is her downfall. It was supposed to be so easy! Smash and grab! Hit and run – a perfect 10! But, wouldn’t you just know it? He felt the healing at the same instant she did, and there was no escaping the lightning connection between them. She is whole, but she is undone. In a way, this moment of public scrutiny is far more painful to her than the past 12 years of private shame.

"Who touched me?" Jesus asks, looking her right in the eye.

 Taking her cue from Jairus’ earlier request, she throws herself at Jesus’ feet. And suddenly it’s all too much. She has had enough. Tapping into hidden reserves of strength – the righteous product of years of suffering – she openly (almost defiantly) declares “I did it – it was ME! Don’t ask me to apologize because I’m not sorry. It took the last bit of strength and courage I had to come to You for help, to reach out to You for healing. But I’m whole now, and I’m glad I did it.”

Jesus, always generous, never judging, helps her to her feet. “I’m glad, too. Now go in peace.”