For All the Saints

Today is All Saints Sunday, an important day in the Christian calendar that, unfortunately, often goes unnoticed. It is the day that we celebrate the lives of all the saints who have passed on from this life and have joined the Church triumphant. No more are these saints fighting the fight on earth; rather, they have joined that great cloud of witnesses where they participate in the true worship of our heavenly Father of which our worship here is only a shadow. In many churches, candles are lit and the names are solemnly read aloud of all those who have died in the past year. I was able to call out the name 'John Barber,' my grandfather who passed away in late September.

I suspect that the reason that this day is not so much celebrated in our culture is because death is not a regular thing in our churches. Sure we experience it when our older members pass on, and that is certainly sad. But death is not shocking to us. It is a normal occurrence in our lives. It was not so in the early church. In those first few centuries, a person could be tried and put to death simply for having the name Christian. All someone needed to do was accuse a person as a Christian, and his or her death ticket was all but signed. In that situation, death was a regular occurrence. One can imagine regular reports of members of local churches being read in those early church services. One can imagine the shock that would have rung out in the congregation. When those early communities celebrated the names and lives of those who had passed in the last year, they were not just celebrating the grandmothers and grandfathers, they were celebrating the husbands and the wives and the children.

But today is not a sad day, it is a triumphant day. As we read off the names of the saints who have passed on, we are reminded that death is no longer the final act of a person's life. It is merely a comma. Because Christ rose, these saints too will rise, and one day soon, the Church will all together again in the heavenly worship of our Triune God.

"For all the saints, who from their labors rest,
who thee by faith before the world confessed,
thy name, O Jesus, be forever blest.

"O blest communion, fellowship divine!
We feebly struggle, they in glory shine;
Yet all are one in thee, for all are thine."

-William W. How

And So This Is Mixmas

So I turn on the radio this morning and I am informed by local radio station 99.1 'The Mix' that the Christmas season is upon us. Or to be more correct, the 'Mixmas' season: all Christmas music, all the time. So for the next two months, I can be guaranteed a steady stream of Brenda Lee's 'Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree', Lennon's 'So This is Christmas', a various assortment of Neil Diamond Santa tunes, and the ubiquitous 'Same Old Lang Syne' by Dan Fogelberg. I'd like to drink a toast to his innocence. Two things bug me about this.

First of all, these radio stations have, for the most part, removed all Christmas songs having anything to do with Christ. Therefore, we are forced to here the same songs over and over again by different artists, and they are all about Frosty or Santa or snow. The profound irony here is that, if this is what Christmas has been reduced to, then what are we celebrating for two long months? How many different versions of 'Santa Claus is Coming to Town' one generation can produce? Or how many pitches Bruce Springsteen actually falls short in trying to reach the high notes in his embarrassingly awful version of the same?

Second, and even more concerning to me, is the redefining of the Christmas season itself. In capitalist America, where the veil of Christmas is still encouraged for the sheer revenue that it generates, the celebration begins immediately after Halloween. Stores are turned from orange and black to red and green. Pumpkins are replaced with holly. Candy corn is replaced with candy canes. And scary stuffed men are replaced with Santa Clauses. The pumpkin patches in the middle of malls are replaced by Santa's Workshop. And of course, Christmas music is everywhere. This continues through December 25th, when all of the buying is occurring, but then magically on the 26th it is all gone. The Santas removed, the colors changed, and the Christmas music gone. As American Christians, this seems quite normal and many of us capitulate, removing our lights and trees by New Years Eve. We eliminate all traces of the celebration from our houses almost as quickly as the stores. What we don't realize, however, is that the Christmas season has been redefined for us by the retailers.

According to the Christian calendar, the season begins with the Feast of Advent, the first Sunday of which is the first Sunday of December. What follows is several weeks where we prepare our hearts through meditation on the incarnation, acts of mercy, and fasts to receive our coming king Immanuel. The Feast of the Nativity, or Christ Mass, begins on December 25 and continues until January 6. We are meant to revel in the reality that our savior has come to earth and has been born. We are meant to celebrate and feast this reality for two weeks. But we don't. Instead we tear it all down as soon as it has begun, giving ourselves hardly any time to appreciate the wonder. And we go back to our daily lives, not realizing that the world has changed - God has entered it.

I do not blame the retailers or even the radio stations - they do not know any better. But we as Christians should. We should reclaim the significance of our feast. And we should start by celebrating it according to the time of holy tradition, not according to the time of 'Mixmas.'

Easter Sunday

"Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here. He is risen!"
-The Gospel of Luke


"Christ the Lord is risen today.
Sons of men and angels say.
Raise your joys and triumphs high.
Sing ye heavens and earth reply. Alleluia!!!"

"Love's redeeming work is done.
Fought the fight, the battle won.
Lo! The sun's eclipse is o'er.
Lo! He sets in blood no more. Alleluia!!!

"Vain the stone, the watch, the seal.
Christ hath burst the gates of hell:
Death in vain forbid Him rise,
Christ hath opened paradise. Alleluia!!!

"Lives again our glorious King.
Where, o Death, is now thy sting?
Dying once, He all doth save.
Where thy victory, o grave? Alleluia!!!

"Soar we now where Christ hath led.
Following our exalted Head.
Made like Him, like Him we rise.
Ours the cross, the grave, the skies. Alleluia!!!"

-Charles Wesley


He is Risen indeed!

Holy Saturday

Today is Holy Saturday; our Lord is in the tomb. The church calls this day the Blessed Sabbath. The title implicitly connects Holy Saturday to the seventh day of creation, the day on which God the Creator rested. Christ is in the grave, in a sense, resting from His work.

But this connection points to an even greater truth that Easter Sunday is the first day of New Creation. When Jesus raises from the dead, the beginning of the restoration of the world has begun. The Gospel of John portrays this through thick symbolism. When the women who come to the tomb on Sunday morning discover that Jesus is not there, they move quickly to a garden. And when the risen Jesus first appears, they mistake him for a gardener. The irony, of course, is that God has been about the business of planting gardens since the beginning.

But of all the days we commemorate in Holy Week, this is the least acknowledged. Often, we celebrate Good Friday and then move quickly to Easter. I think the reason for this is that our modern culture has little appreciation of the significance and meaning of suffering. We are a culture which places importance on comfort and success. A bit of this mindset has crept into the church. Thus, we want to move as quickly as possible to Easter morning, for this, after all, is the success! This is the day that death is conquered. But Holy Saturday reminds us that there was no conquering of death without first being conformed to death. For Christ to raise on Sunday morning, he first had to die. Holy Saturday confirms that Christ indeed conformed to our human nature and he conformed to it even to death.

Let us remember today that the way to resurrection and redemption had to pass first through the grave.

Good Friday

Today is Good Friday, the day when they crucified our Lord. The designation "good" is peculiar to the English language. In the Roman Missal it is designated Feria VI in Parasceve which means literally "Feast of the Preparation." In the Greek liturgy, it is called "the Holy and Great Friday." In the Romance languages, it is called "Holy Friday." And in German, it is called "Sorrowful Friday."

The collective whole of these names displays the ambivalence with which we approach this day. On the one hand, it is a horrible day, a day of mourning, for humanity committed its greatest atrocity by brutally killing God's only Son, a man who came in peace, a man whose heart was so full of love that he wept when he saw the state of the world, as personified in Jerusalem, a man who left the heights of heaven to commune with the dregs of earth. We were the object of his love, we were the reason for his tears, we were the dregs. And we killed him.

But on the other hand, this is a wonderful day, a holy and great day of rejoicing, for the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world is sacrificed, thus atoning once and for all for our sinful humanity. Jesus, who on Christmas is conformed to our humanity, today conforms to all of us, even to our sin and even to our death. And in being conformed to our death, he sanctifies even it, so that our deaths are no longer meaningless and no longer judgment, but rather passage into his presence - that is if we participate in his death through baptism.

Perhaps the English title of this day most appropriately captures its sentiment: "Good." It shows a quiet respect for this day, it shows us that even in the great celebration of sin abolished, there is mourning that it was our sin which placed him there.

I leave you with a few quotes that capture the significance of this day better than I could ever hope to:

"Surely our griefs He Himself bore, and our sorrows He carried; yet we ourselves esteemed Him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted. But He was pierced through for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the chastening for our well being fell upon Him, and by His scourging we are healed." -Isaiah

"For no one will hardly die for a righteous man; though perhaps for a good man someone would dare even to die. But God demonstrates his own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." -Paul

"When I survey the wondrous cross on which the Prince of Glory died, my richest gain I count but loss, and pour contempt on all my pride. See, from his head, his hands, his feet, sorrow and love flow mingled down. Did e'er such love and sorrow meet, or thorns compose so rich a crown?" -Isaac Watts

"The task of the heart is self-preservation, holding together what is its own. The pierced heart of Jesus has . . . truly overturned this definition. This heart is not concerned with self-preservation but with self-surrender. It saves the world by opening itself. The collapse of the opened Heart is the content of the Easter mystery. The Hearts saves, indeed, but it saves by giving itself away." -Pope Benedict XVI

"It is finished." -Jesus the Christ

Maundy Thursday

Today is the Feast of Maundy Thursday, also called Holy Thursday, which commemorates the night in which Jesus instituted the Eucharist with his disciples. It was in the midst of their celebration of the salvific moment in Israel's history where the blood of the lamb above their doorways allowed the Angel of Death to pass over them, the final plague which ultimately led to their Exodus. In the midst of the celebration, Jesus stood up and performed that mysterious and holy action:

"This is my body, given for you."

"This cup is the new covenant in my blood, which is poured out for you."

Blood is salvific in the course of Israel's history. It is shed each time God makes a covenant with his people. It is the means by which the lamb passed over. And in less than 24 hours after that last supper, Jesus' blood would be shed, establishing a new covenant with his people. A covenant which is written on their hearts. A covenant which abolishes sin and death once and for all. And the church has been eating his body and drinking his blood ever since; it is the oldest and most cherished sacrament of the church.

The account of the institution of the Eucharist occurs in three of the four Gospels. But the interesting thing is that the term by which we remember this night comes not from any of these Gospels, but from John: "A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another." The Latin phrase for new command is "mandatum novum" the origin of Maundy.

In place of the Eucharist in John (which there is discussed in ch 6), Jesus dons a towel and washes the feet of his disciples. This is the embodiment of his new command, to love one another. Jesus loved us so much to the point that he died for us. The reality is that in everyday life, we will not get the chance to love our friends this much. But here Jesus shows the way to love one another - by serving one another. By caring more for others than ourselves.

On this Maundy Thursday, let us remember the Eucharist which commemorates the new covenant by which we are brought into communion with God, and let us remember the new command that Christ gave us, to love others as He loved us. May he give us the strength and the courage to do so.

Ashes to Ashes . . .

For myself and the hundred or so other worshippers around me, today's noon hour was one dedicated to contrition and repentance as we were led through the corporate prayers of the Ash Wednesday liturgy. After the communal prayers, each of us walked to the front and a cross of ash was marked on our forehead as the following words were spoken over us:

"Remember that from the ashes you came and to the ashes you will return."

The symbolism in this ancient Christian tradition is thick. The cross on the forehead comes from the Hebrew tradition of binding the law on the forehead prescribed in Deuteronomy. To them, this tradition symbolized the law consuming and controlling their minds. To us, the cross consumes and controls our minds - we think, we see, and we live cruciform. The ashes symbolize the dust of the earth from which we were made, and we realize through them that without the breath of God we would not have physical life and without the Spirit of God, we would not have eternal life (the word for Spirit in both Hebrew and Greek can also mean breath and wind).

Ash Wednesday is not a joyous celebration as many of our other feast days are. It is a day for remembering the abyss from where the Lord has taken you, of remembering and confessing your many sins, that they may be covered, and of the beginning of fasting to commemorate and to be conformed to the sacrifice of our Lord.

After service, I went back into the world conscious that the cross of ash on my forehead was visible to all. I made certain that I smiled a little bigger at people, I held the door open for more people, I was more patient with a slow library worker. All this because I knew that I would be identified with that cross on my forehead. I wonder why I am not always conscious of this identity? I wonder what the world would be like if all of us who identify ourselves with the cross lived as though there were always one of ashes on our foreheads.

Little Theophanies

This is Transfiguration Sunday, the last Sunday in the season of Epiphany and the high point of Christ's ministry on earth, when his true nature is revealed to the disciples on Mt. Tabor. This Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent marking the forty day mourning period as the church moves toward Holy Week, corresponding to Christ's movement toward Jerusalem in the Gospels. The Gospel lectionary reading for today is Luke 9:28-43:

"Now about eight days after these sayings he took with him Peter and James and John, and went up on the mountain to pray. And as he was praying, the appearance of his countenance was altered, and his raiment became dazzling white. And hehold, two men talked with him, Moses and Elijah, who appeared in glory and spoke of his departure, which he was to accomplish at Jerusalem . . . a cloud came and overshadowed (the disciples); and they were afraid as they entered the cloud. And a voice came out of the cloud, saying, 'This is my Son, my Chosen, listen to him!"

To the ancient reader of Scripture, steeped in the Scriptures of Israel this text screams one word, THEOPHANY, which in parochial terms, simply means: "God showed up!" The ancient reader of Scripture would have thought theophany because Luke's text is laden with references to the first theophany, namely the appearance of God to Moses on Mt. Sinai in Exod 19:

"So it came about on the third day, when it was morning, that there were thunder and lightning flashes and a thick cloud upon the mountain and a very loud trumpet sound, so that all the people who were in the camp trembled."

God descended to Mt. Sinai and interacted with humans face to face for the first time since they had been cast out of his presence in Eden. He calls Moses up to the mountain who is enveloped in the cloud, much like the disciples, and gives him the instruction by which the people of God are supposed to live. And when Moses comes off the mountain, he is described thus:

"It came about when Moses was coming down from Mount Sinai (and the two tablets of the testimony were in Moses' hand as he was coming down from the mountain), that Moses did not know that the skin of his face shone because of his speaking with him. So when Aaron and all the sons of Israel saw Moses, behold, the skin of his face shone, and they were afraid to go near him."

The truth of the Transfiguration is that when humans commune with God, they experience His light, they are themselves transformed into the light of God. Modern readers of the Transfiguration text will either, at best, assume that Jesus shown because he was God himself or, at worst, dismiss the account as fantasy. But the ancient readers saw here the truth that when we commune with God, we are transformed into him by his light. That is, we become the PLACE of his presence, as Mt. Sinai was in the OT. We become, as it were, little Theophanies. God's light rests in us! And this was often seen to be the case. Consider the following examples:

1. The first martyr Stephen is taken before the elders and the scribes to give an account of the "lies" he has been preaching about Jesus. Soon he will give his final testimony and be stoned to death. He is described directly prior to the account thus: "And gazing at him, all who sat in the council saw that his face was like the face of an angel."

2. In the fourth century, there was an explosion of monastic aesthetics (we might call them hermits) who went off by themselves to the deserts of Egypt to find God. There are short little accounts written about these men. One such account reads as follows: "The Fathers used to say that someone met Abba Silvanus one day and saw his face and body shining like an angel and he fell with his face to the ground. He said that others also had obtained this grace."

3. Another account from the Desert Fathers reads as follows: "A brother came to the cell of Abba Arsenius at Scetis. Waiting outside the door he saw the old man entirely like a flame."

4. Macrina, the elder sister of the fourth century Fathers St. Basil the Great and St. Gregory of Nyssa, died in the presence of her young brother. Gregory describes the scene this way: ". . . the cloak was placed over the body. She shone even in the dark mantle; God’s power, I think, added even such a grace to her body that, exactly as in the vision I had while dreaming, rays of light seemed to shine out from her beauty."

These four examples show the truth known by the saints, that God "showed up" in Christ and that Christ now "shows up" in us. And to say that Christ dwells in us is a much more profound truth than I think we ever realize. For he no longer dwells on mountains, or in temples, or even in church buildings. He dwells in his followers, in those who have conformed their lives to his and in so doing, have made their bodies condusive to his presence. May each of us attain to this profound grace.

A Glimpse of the Church Year

As I have been doing a lot of blogging on the church calendar lately, I thought that it might be helpful to provide a visual aid of the year and the different seasons and celebrations. This picture was sketched by Rev. J.D. Walt, the dean of the chapel at Asbury Theological Seminary. He also writes a blog, which I would highly encourage any of my readers to check out, if you don't already: www.farmstrong.blogspot.com. Thanks for the sketch JD!

The Need for Epiphany

The more that I study the church calendar, the more I am amazed at the providence at work in its shaping. For the sacred time we celebrate is always structured in such a way to help the church fully experience and understand her story.

Today is the first Sunday after Epiphany, which is the feast celebrating the visitation of the magi. It is a particularly important feast to our brothers and sisters in the Eastern Orthodox church because it is the celebration of the light of Christ dawning on the Gentiles of the East. The word "Epiphany" means awakening.

Early in the theological reflection of the church, the Feast of Epiphany came to be associated with the Transfiguration, the point in the Gospel narrative where the divine light of Christ is revealed to Peter, James and John on Mt. Tabor, not by any alteration of Christ himself, but by the opening of the disciple's eyes to see Christ's true nature. I am unaware of the reasons for this association, but I suspect it has to do with Epiphany's placement in the calendar relative to Lent. For it mirrors the narrative placement of the Transfiguration in relation to Christ's last week.

The Feast of Epiphany is the anticipation of the Feast of the Resurrection. Between the two celebrations, the church moves through the Lenten season, which is a season of mourning. Similarly, the narrative placement of the Transfiguration in the Gospel anticipates the Resurrection, where Jesus will again appear in light. In Matthew and Mark, Jesus and his disciples move fairly quickly from Tabor to Jerusalem, where the cross looms. Neither the narrative structure of the Gospel or the timing of the calendar are coincidental however, for the people of God are in need of a reminder of who Christ truly is in order to get them through the mourning period to Easter. We, like the disciples, are in need of an Epiphany.

It is curious, then, that in Luke the Transfiguration is closer to the beginning of the Gospel; and much occurs between Tabor and Jerusalem. However, Luke is not ignorant of the need for epiphany prior to mourning. For in Luke's Gospel, Jesus' encounter with a blind man takes the narrative place of the Transfiguration:

"As Jesus was approaching Jericho, a blind man was sitting by the road begging . . .Those who led the way were sternly telling him to be quiet; but he kept crying out all the more, 'Son of David, have mercy on me!' And Jesus stopped and commanded that he be brought to Him; and when he came near, He questioned him, 'What do you want me to do for you?' And he said, 'Lord, I want to regain my sight!' And Jesus said to him, 'Receive your sight; your faith has made you well.' Immediately he regained his sight . . ." (Luke 18:35, 39-43).

May our eyes be opened this Epiphany, that we might be sustained through to Easter.

The Holy Calendar

At church this morning, our pastor addressed the upcoming events in the church's calendar, namely Advent, or as he put it, "the church's new year." His short discussion reminded me of how radically different than church's calendar is as compared to, for lack of a better term, our secular calendar. Here are a few of the poignant differences.

The church's calendar begins with Advent. The preparation for the birth of our Lord marks the chance for the church to be reborn and to begin anew walking with Christ to the cross. Christmas is of course the end of the year in the secular calendar, and I doubt that many non Christians understand what Advent is really about. New Year's is a time to make "resolutions" that everyone knows will not last more than a week.

In January, the church celebrates Epiphany, marking the time when the wisemen visited Jesus. Epiphany is also marked by the Mount of Transfiguration, where it is revealed to the disciples who Christ really is. The Orthodox Church views Epiphany as their high holiday (like our Christmas) for it marks the point when Christ is introduced to the East. January is a horrible month in the secular calendar, one to merely get through.

In March, the church begins a season of preparation called Lent. It is a time of sacrifice, of renting the body that we might be conformed to Christ as he makes his way to the cross. For the church knows that there is no Easter without Good Friday. In the secular calendar, March is typically the time of Spring Break, when the headonistic fantasies of college students are played out. If you don't believe me, tune into MTV this March. Its troubling to say the least.

In early April, the church celebrates the high point of her year, Easter. The celebration of when her Lord has risen and has given true meaning to our lives. The celebration of the beating down of death. And we sing the wonderful hymn of faith: "Lives again our glorious King; where, oh death, is now thy sting? Dying once, he all doth save; where thy victory, oh grave?" Easter in the secular calendar is a time to look for eggs.

50 days after Easter, the church celebrates Pentecost, the coming of the Holy Spirit when we are given the first fruits of the Kingdom, when we are assured that even though Christ has ascended, God is with us. He is in our hearts. Roughly the same time in the secular calendar is the beginning of summer, which is truly the high point of the secular year.

Interestingly though, after Pentecost, the church enters into what I believe is called "Common Time." We rest in the knowledge during those days that Christ has risen and that God is with us in his Spirit. The next celebration of the church comes on the Sunday before Advent, Christ the King Sunday, where Christ is celebrated as the true King.

If you notice, the church's calendar is stark opposite of the secular calendar. When the secular calendar ends, the church's begins. When the secular calendar reaches its high point, the church is in rest. To me it is a beautiful reminder of how God, by coming into this world as a human, has sanctified time and made it his own. All those who follow Christ are a part of this holy time. Ours is a different calendar because ours is a different reality.

As my friend and pastor JD Walt said to me once, it ought to give us pause that we are much more familiar with the secular holidays - New Year's Day, Memorial Day, Fourth of July, etc. - than we are with the church's holidays.

As Advent nears, I encourage everyone to set aside some time to truly prepare to be reborn with Christ. And spend this next year walking with Christ in His time. You might find yourself at a cross while the rest of the world indulges. But then you might find yourself walking out of a tomb. In the words of that same Easter hymn: "Soar we now where Christ hath led; following our exalted head. Made like him, like him we rise; ours the cross, the grave, the skies."