Tucson, Arizona
For the last two weeks I have been enjoying the sunshine in Tucson Arizona. The desert is amazing in the spring. The landscape is awash with brilliant reds, yellows, oranges, blues and more. Flowers are literally everywhere. My mom lives in a well-manicured subdivision, similar to a city subdivision in Ontario and yet very different. Instead of wide expanses of green lawns, the yards are covered with brightly coloured gravel, raked to perfection. Rocks of every size, shape and colour add texture. Tall, short, skinny, barrel shaped, flat and always prickly, the cacti are in bloom. And of course there are trees - huge spreading eucalyptus, tall swaying palms, lebanon cedars, mesquite - the list goes on and on. This desert is not miles and miles of sand. It's green and beautiful.
Why a “Good Friday” Service?
On Good Friday we hear the crowd call, “Crucify him. Crucify him!” and we wince. That’s not us. We weren’t there.
Years ago, I asked a counselor, “What is hell?”
His answer rings out in my mind, every Good Friday morning. “Think of hell as knowing and feeling in your entire being, all the pain you have caused in your life time.”
I spoke of Hitler and the crushing weight of pain he would endure.
The counselor shook his head. “How many wars have been fought to put gasoline in your car?” he asked.
I didn’t want to see my role in the world’s pain. None of us do. We close our eyes to the fact that many in the world go hungry in order to support our comfortable life style. We choose to see only our small bag of garbage rather than the mountains of garbage world wide. We ignore the pain given by a careless word of criticism and are ignorant of the ripple effect that word will have for strangers. We do not know, nor do we want to know the pain, the violence, the destruction we have caused in our life time. The little we do know is already more than we can bear.
On Good Friday we read Jesus’ word’s, “Father forgive them for they know not what they do.” In today’s words: “It’s not about me,” he says. “It’s about these your beloved children. Their fear, their desire for power or love, has taken over. They don’t understand the pain they are causing the world, pain that will last for generations. Please, forgive them.”
We celebrate “Good Friday” each year, not just to be reminded of what we do to bring chaos and destruction in our families and our world, but also to hear Jesus’ words of forgiveness. We have the courage to open our eyes and hearts to understanding the far reaching consequences of even our smallest sin when we are assured of God’s forgiveness. Good Friday tells us that God loves us at our worst. We are forgiven. New life will happen. We can begin again. Easter Sunday is coming.
On Good Friday we hear the crowd call, “Crucify him. Crucify him!” and we wince. That’s not us. We weren’t there.
Years ago, I asked a counselor, “What is hell?”
His answer rings out in my mind, every Good Friday morning. “Think of hell as knowing and feeling in your entire being, all the pain you have caused in your life time.”
I spoke of Hitler and the crushing weight of pain he would endure.
The counselor shook his head. “How many wars have been fought to put gasoline in your car?” he asked.
I didn’t want to see my role in the world’s pain. None of us do. We close our eyes to the fact that many in the world go hungry in order to support our comfortable life style. We choose to see only our small bag of garbage rather than the mountains of garbage world wide. We ignore the pain given by a careless word of criticism and are ignorant of the ripple effect that word will have for strangers. We do not know, nor do we want to know the pain, the violence, the destruction we have caused in our life time. The little we do know is already more than we can bear.
On Good Friday we read Jesus’ word’s, “Father forgive them for they know not what they do.” In today’s words: “It’s not about me,” he says. “It’s about these your beloved children. Their fear, their desire for power or love, has taken over. They don’t understand the pain they are causing the world, pain that will last for generations. Please, forgive them.”
We celebrate “Good Friday” each year, not just to be reminded of what we do to bring chaos and destruction in our families and our world, but also to hear Jesus’ words of forgiveness. We have the courage to open our eyes and hearts to understanding the far reaching consequences of even our smallest sin when we are assured of God’s forgiveness. Good Friday tells us that God loves us at our worst. We are forgiven. New life will happen. We can begin again. Easter Sunday is coming.
Here is Salome's Story. Enjoy it and think about the message Salome has for you.
SALOME
My name is Salome. I am one of the older women who traveled with Jesus and supported his ministry with my work, my presence and with financial backing. My sister Mary, Jesus’ mother, was grateful that I was able to be part of his group. She felt I was caring for him.
As a child, Jesus’ astonished us with his compassion and caring for his family, friends and even strangers. The only time I can remember Mary and Joseph being upset with Jesus, happened in Jerusalem. A whole group of us had gone to the city to celebrate the Passover. We were a full days travel into the trip home when Mary came looking for Jesus. She thought, he was with us. My husband and I hurried back to Jerusalem with Mary and Joseph. We searched everywhere. I remember Mary lamenting, “Jesus wouldn’t just run away. Someone has taken him by force. He may be injured. We have to find him. He’s my responsibility. I promised God I would care for him.” When we could think of no where else to look, we went to the temple to pray. There he was, sitting with the priests and rabbis. We were relieved and angry, all at once.
The young scamp responded, “Why were you worried. You knew I’d be here.”
I thought Mary was going to explode. Both she and Joseph kept silence on the way home, but I’m sure Jesus heard plenty later.
When Jesus started traveling the countryside preaching and healing, a number of families went with him. You’ve been told about the inner twelve men, but there were many more, women and children too. In fact it was the women of property, like myself, who contributed most of the financial support for his ministry. I remember Mary of Magdala and Joanna in particular. They gave freely of their wealth to meet the expenses of Jesus’ ministry. In our world, women were considered possessions useful only to produce children and be homemakers. Jesus honoured us as part of the leadership of his ministry. We listened to him preach, we cared for him, and the people who followed him.
For a while, it was wonderful. The crowds increased. The healing miracles seemed endless. When the rumours started we were surprised. How could anyone fear Jesus? Why would anyone want to harm him. All he talked about was loving God and loving others. Well, he did criticize some of the temple leaders and he treated women as equals. Some people definitely weren’t happy with him, but I didn’t think they’d hurt him. The Roman authorities worried about anyone among us who was popular. Once some people started talking of Jesus as the Messiah, the attitude of the Romans changed. They began to see him as dangerous, a rebel leader. He became a threat to the peace and order of the empire.
I remember the day his mother and brothers came to see him. I’m sure they wanted him to slow down, to do less, to come home and resume his work in Joseph’s carpentry shop where he would be safe. Jesus would have none of it. He wouldn’t even speak to them. He had started on a path and nothing they could say or do would stop him.
As long as Jesus stayed up in Galilee he was safe, but for some reason, he was determined to go to Jerusalem. You know what happened when he did.
Our arrival in Jerusalem was wonderful. We shouted and cheered and waved palm branches. We felt as if he truly was the Messiah and the victory had already been won. He planned all that you know. I heard him send the disciples for that donkey colt.
“Tell them the master has need of it,” he said.
He followed our parade with that chaos in the temple. Jesus saw all those poor people being cheated. He was angry, really angry. I’m sure that’s what did it. That’s what gave his enemies an excuse to act.
It wasn’t long until he was arrested. The whole time is etched in my memory. I see it when I lay down to sleep, and when I wake up. We stayed with him as best we could. We followed him as he staggered with that heavy cross beam through the streets, his body broken and bleeding. We stood, tears streaming down our faces when they nailed him to that cross. His mother watched it all, she would not leave him. Many of the men ran away in fear. We believed that being women no one would want to harm us, so we stayed with him. I’ll never forget his voice crying out from the cross, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”
Our dreams were finished. He was dead. We went with Joseph of Arimathea and his servants when they carried Jesus’ body to the tomb. It was almost Sabbath, preparing his body would have to wait till dawn. In our culture, it is the women’s privilege to wash the body and wrap it in spices. As soon as the sun began to rise, Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary his mother, and myself hurried to the tomb. We loved Jesus with our whole hearts. This was the last thing we could do for him.
“How will we roll away the stone that seals the tomb?” I asked.
“Don’t worry,” Mary Magdalene answered, “I’ll bribe the guards.
When we arrived, the garden was empty. The tomb was open. We looked inside and saw two angels.
“He is risen, just as he said. Go and tell the others,” they commanded.
Terrified! Astonished! Confused! We turned and ran.
It was on our way back to tell the others, that we met him, the risen Christ. That’s right, we saw him. We fell at his feet.
“You’re alive,” we shouted, “alive”.
There are no words to describe our joy. We were so excited we could hardly breathe. Right then and there He commissioned us. He told us to go and tell the others. That’s right, he told us to carry the message. Our mission wasn’t over it was just beginning. Eventually, he talked to all of the inner group, but he spoke to us, a group of women, first. He asked us to carry his message first!
SALOME
My name is Salome. I am one of the older women who traveled with Jesus and supported his ministry with my work, my presence and with financial backing. My sister Mary, Jesus’ mother, was grateful that I was able to be part of his group. She felt I was caring for him.
As a child, Jesus’ astonished us with his compassion and caring for his family, friends and even strangers. The only time I can remember Mary and Joseph being upset with Jesus, happened in Jerusalem. A whole group of us had gone to the city to celebrate the Passover. We were a full days travel into the trip home when Mary came looking for Jesus. She thought, he was with us. My husband and I hurried back to Jerusalem with Mary and Joseph. We searched everywhere. I remember Mary lamenting, “Jesus wouldn’t just run away. Someone has taken him by force. He may be injured. We have to find him. He’s my responsibility. I promised God I would care for him.” When we could think of no where else to look, we went to the temple to pray. There he was, sitting with the priests and rabbis. We were relieved and angry, all at once.
The young scamp responded, “Why were you worried. You knew I’d be here.”
I thought Mary was going to explode. Both she and Joseph kept silence on the way home, but I’m sure Jesus heard plenty later.
When Jesus started traveling the countryside preaching and healing, a number of families went with him. You’ve been told about the inner twelve men, but there were many more, women and children too. In fact it was the women of property, like myself, who contributed most of the financial support for his ministry. I remember Mary of Magdala and Joanna in particular. They gave freely of their wealth to meet the expenses of Jesus’ ministry. In our world, women were considered possessions useful only to produce children and be homemakers. Jesus honoured us as part of the leadership of his ministry. We listened to him preach, we cared for him, and the people who followed him.
For a while, it was wonderful. The crowds increased. The healing miracles seemed endless. When the rumours started we were surprised. How could anyone fear Jesus? Why would anyone want to harm him. All he talked about was loving God and loving others. Well, he did criticize some of the temple leaders and he treated women as equals. Some people definitely weren’t happy with him, but I didn’t think they’d hurt him. The Roman authorities worried about anyone among us who was popular. Once some people started talking of Jesus as the Messiah, the attitude of the Romans changed. They began to see him as dangerous, a rebel leader. He became a threat to the peace and order of the empire.
I remember the day his mother and brothers came to see him. I’m sure they wanted him to slow down, to do less, to come home and resume his work in Joseph’s carpentry shop where he would be safe. Jesus would have none of it. He wouldn’t even speak to them. He had started on a path and nothing they could say or do would stop him.
As long as Jesus stayed up in Galilee he was safe, but for some reason, he was determined to go to Jerusalem. You know what happened when he did.
Our arrival in Jerusalem was wonderful. We shouted and cheered and waved palm branches. We felt as if he truly was the Messiah and the victory had already been won. He planned all that you know. I heard him send the disciples for that donkey colt.
“Tell them the master has need of it,” he said.
He followed our parade with that chaos in the temple. Jesus saw all those poor people being cheated. He was angry, really angry. I’m sure that’s what did it. That’s what gave his enemies an excuse to act.
It wasn’t long until he was arrested. The whole time is etched in my memory. I see it when I lay down to sleep, and when I wake up. We stayed with him as best we could. We followed him as he staggered with that heavy cross beam through the streets, his body broken and bleeding. We stood, tears streaming down our faces when they nailed him to that cross. His mother watched it all, she would not leave him. Many of the men ran away in fear. We believed that being women no one would want to harm us, so we stayed with him. I’ll never forget his voice crying out from the cross, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”
Our dreams were finished. He was dead. We went with Joseph of Arimathea and his servants when they carried Jesus’ body to the tomb. It was almost Sabbath, preparing his body would have to wait till dawn. In our culture, it is the women’s privilege to wash the body and wrap it in spices. As soon as the sun began to rise, Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary his mother, and myself hurried to the tomb. We loved Jesus with our whole hearts. This was the last thing we could do for him.
“How will we roll away the stone that seals the tomb?” I asked.
“Don’t worry,” Mary Magdalene answered, “I’ll bribe the guards.
When we arrived, the garden was empty. The tomb was open. We looked inside and saw two angels.
“He is risen, just as he said. Go and tell the others,” they commanded.
Terrified! Astonished! Confused! We turned and ran.
It was on our way back to tell the others, that we met him, the risen Christ. That’s right, we saw him. We fell at his feet.
“You’re alive,” we shouted, “alive”.
There are no words to describe our joy. We were so excited we could hardly breathe. Right then and there He commissioned us. He told us to go and tell the others. That’s right, he told us to carry the message. Our mission wasn’t over it was just beginning. Eventually, he talked to all of the inner group, but he spoke to us, a group of women, first. He asked us to carry his message first!
A LESSON IN LIVING
Feed the hungry; love the needy.
I know the drill.
Some tastes lovely; greed is, deadly.
God’s gift, free will.
The feast invites; my friend welcomes
Receive God’s love
Her smile beckons; her hands reach out
Accept her love.
More than you need; of course, that’s real
in our great land.
Enjoy the gifts; don’t waste the food.
That’s God’s command.
Table beckons, all decked in green
a gorgeous sight
Gleaming silver, precious china
This feast feels right.
The Parade appears; seven courses long
Exquisite, delicious, luscious, fine
Each course steps forward,
I’ll lose my mind.
Enjoy! Enjoy! my mantra chants.
I must eat some.
Choose with care; the words recite.
There’s more to come.
The final moment., a giant pie.
Greed shouts, “Yes.”.
Feed the hungry; they’re forgotten
I cut the slice.
With well-aged cheese, and ice cream too.
the taste divine,
Each bite brings joy; heavenly bliss
I’ve lost my mind.
Enough! Enough! Rebellion cries!
Too much! Too much!
Clean your plate; don’t waste good food
My past strikes back.
Too late, too late, my stomach screams
Sharp pain the cost.
The battle o’er; the plate wiped clean.
Free will has lost.
Feed the hungry; love the needy.
I know the drill.
Some tastes lovely; greed is, deadly.
God’s gift, free will.
The feast invites; my friend welcomes
Receive God’s love
Her smile beckons; her hands reach out
Accept her love.
More than you need; of course, that’s real
in our great land.
Enjoy the gifts; don’t waste the food.
That’s God’s command.
Table beckons, all decked in green
a gorgeous sight
Gleaming silver, precious china
This feast feels right.
The Parade appears; seven courses long
Exquisite, delicious, luscious, fine
Each course steps forward,
I’ll lose my mind.
Enjoy! Enjoy! my mantra chants.
I must eat some.
Choose with care; the words recite.
There’s more to come.
The final moment., a giant pie.
Greed shouts, “Yes.”.
Feed the hungry; they’re forgotten
I cut the slice.
With well-aged cheese, and ice cream too.
the taste divine,
Each bite brings joy; heavenly bliss
I’ve lost my mind.
Enough! Enough! Rebellion cries!
Too much! Too much!
Clean your plate; don’t waste good food
My past strikes back.
Too late, too late, my stomach screams
Sharp pain the cost.
The battle o’er; the plate wiped clean.
Free will has lost.
Listen to Your Life
One Sunday morning a few weeks ago, I picked up Fred Buechner’s book, “Listen to your life.” The title jerked me awake. What does it mean – listen to your life? What would I hear, if I actually stopped and listened? The question stayed with me all day.
I went to church as I do every Sunday. As a member of the choir, I sang a bouncy African song. “Lift your voices to God with singing! Praise the Lord with a joyful song!” Smiles broke out in the congregation. Their applause was enthusiastic. As part of the choir, I had brought a moment of joy to a group of people. I liked that. Listening to my life is fun, I thought.
After the service, I talked with friends, young and old. They were concerned about the back pain I have been experiencing. Once again, I listened to my life and heard about the importance of relationships and caring. That felt good, too.
Sunday evening, along with two friends, I attended a fundraiser for “A Place Called Home”, Lindsay’s shelter for the homeless. Yes, I thought, I’m glad I want to care for others.
On that one day, I listened to my life and liked what I heard. That isn’t always the case. There are days when I hear only my mistakes, my disappointments. Sometimes I hear anger or judgment or apathy. Often I am so busy, I don’t know what I have said or thought or done. I don’t know what needs to be changed, who needs to be cared for, or what I can celebrate.
As a Christian I believe that God loves each human being in this world. I believe God is present with us every moment of our lives. When we pay attention to each moment, stop and think about our day, listen for God, we can hear and know God’s presence, God’s purpose, God’s love. Listen carefully and you will hear the Spirit working in your life.
Jesus said, “I am with you always, even onto the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:20)
I went to church as I do every Sunday. As a member of the choir, I sang a bouncy African song. “Lift your voices to God with singing! Praise the Lord with a joyful song!” Smiles broke out in the congregation. Their applause was enthusiastic. As part of the choir, I had brought a moment of joy to a group of people. I liked that. Listening to my life is fun, I thought.
After the service, I talked with friends, young and old. They were concerned about the back pain I have been experiencing. Once again, I listened to my life and heard about the importance of relationships and caring. That felt good, too.
Sunday evening, along with two friends, I attended a fundraiser for “A Place Called Home”, Lindsay’s shelter for the homeless. Yes, I thought, I’m glad I want to care for others.
On that one day, I listened to my life and liked what I heard. That isn’t always the case. There are days when I hear only my mistakes, my disappointments. Sometimes I hear anger or judgment or apathy. Often I am so busy, I don’t know what I have said or thought or done. I don’t know what needs to be changed, who needs to be cared for, or what I can celebrate.
As a Christian I believe that God loves each human being in this world. I believe God is present with us every moment of our lives. When we pay attention to each moment, stop and think about our day, listen for God, we can hear and know God’s presence, God’s purpose, God’s love. Listen carefully and you will hear the Spirit working in your life.
Jesus said, “I am with you always, even onto the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:20)
A Glimpse of Heaven
The news is filled with the disaster in Haiti. Pictures of thousands of collapsed homes, dead bodies, and wounded and broken people flash across our television and computer screens. Misery, grief, fear, desolation shout at us from the eyes and voices of the Haitian people.
At the same time, we are witnessing a miracle. The world is not ignoring Haiti. We are responding. The world’s compassion and action is amazing. In Canada, we are opening our wallets and giving generously. We’re giving clothing, tools, medicine, bandages, whatever is needed. We’re offering our time and talents. We want to help. . From within us, God’s love has been set free.
Just as I was beginning to think that the world was being taken over by evil, our news has shown me an outpouring of goodness that is overwhelming. Children, teens and adults are doing everything they can to help. Gone is the apathy that plagues our society. Gone is the greed and the need for security. In this time of economic downturn, even our government has designated millions for Haiti. Our armed forces, already stretched to the limit of their resources by the war in Afghanistan, has sent troops, trained to bring order in the chaos. Many who seldom pray, are praying. God’s goodness has risen up within us. We have set aside our concerns of race and our desire to judge. For at least this little while, we are living the words of St. Paul, “If one suffers we all suffer…” (1Corinthians 12:26). As human beings we are being the best we can be.
I believe that our response to this crisis in a small island nation, is giving us a glimpse of the love we will find in heaven and I am truly grateful.
“Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror, then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part, then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain, faith, hope and love, but the greatest of these is love.” (ICorinthians 13: 12-13)
At the same time, we are witnessing a miracle. The world is not ignoring Haiti. We are responding. The world’s compassion and action is amazing. In Canada, we are opening our wallets and giving generously. We’re giving clothing, tools, medicine, bandages, whatever is needed. We’re offering our time and talents. We want to help. . From within us, God’s love has been set free.
Just as I was beginning to think that the world was being taken over by evil, our news has shown me an outpouring of goodness that is overwhelming. Children, teens and adults are doing everything they can to help. Gone is the apathy that plagues our society. Gone is the greed and the need for security. In this time of economic downturn, even our government has designated millions for Haiti. Our armed forces, already stretched to the limit of their resources by the war in Afghanistan, has sent troops, trained to bring order in the chaos. Many who seldom pray, are praying. God’s goodness has risen up within us. We have set aside our concerns of race and our desire to judge. For at least this little while, we are living the words of St. Paul, “If one suffers we all suffer…” (1Corinthians 12:26). As human beings we are being the best we can be.
I believe that our response to this crisis in a small island nation, is giving us a glimpse of the love we will find in heaven and I am truly grateful.
“Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror, then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part, then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain, faith, hope and love, but the greatest of these is love.” (ICorinthians 13: 12-13)
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