Vigil with the Word: Year C, Fifth Sunday in Lent

The texts for the Fifth Sunday in Lent are:

John 12:1-8
Isaiah 43:16-21
Psalm 126
Phillipians 3:4b-14

I have chosen to focus my commentary on John's Gospel.

Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, ‘Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?’ (He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) Jesus said, ‘Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.’

This particular text from John’s Gospel is full of themes that make for fascinating sermons. There are themes of Mary breaking gender roles by touching Jesus. There is a discussion about the extravagance of using a pound of “nard” to wash Jesus’ feet. Which means nothing to us now, perhaps saying something like “took a pound of saffron and put it into pancakes for Saturday morning breakfast” would make more sense. Taking something that is extravagantly expensive and using for the most ordinary task. Then there is a discussion about serving the poor and appropriate use of resources.  But I do not want to talk about that. I want to reflect upon this text in my context as a healthcare chaplain.

This story has the title of “Mary Anoints Jesus.” About a week before Jesus is to die upon the cross, Mary anoints his feet with the most pure and costly oil. Anointing, the ceremonial marking of a person with oil or by symbol alone, is a practice with a long history. We hear in the Hebrew Bible about priests being anointed. The disciples are said to anoint the sick after healing them.  And in this passage, Mary anoints Jesus.

The Catholic church has entirely different connotations of the practice of anointing, so I will not go into those here. But in my practice of ministry, anointing is something that I do frequently. It is part of the commendation of the dying liturgy, something that I find myself doing about once a week, as well as part of a blessing that I give to my patients. Anointing happens in the baptisms that I provide for the sick and dying. Sometimes I use oil, sometimes I use water, sometimes it is just my fingers, smelling faintly of alcohol rub from my hand hygiene ritual. Anointing is a physical representation of a holy manifestation. It is a proclamation of “This moment is sacred. God is here. We are setting aside this moment as something outside the ordinary.” Anointing takes the most ordinary of things, one person touching another, and imbues it with a sense of the holy. It is a mark of God’s presence.

Mary is the only one that sets aside this sacred moment in the bustle of a large group dinner and the disagreement about the use of the nard. I think about how I often make eye contact with a dying patient or their family members as I am anointing someone’s forehead. I tenderly make the sign of the cross and resting my palm on their head, I say, “Well done good and faithful servant. To God you belong.” Quiet words amidst the chaos of a trauma room, the alarms of an ICU or the oppressive air of a nursing facility. An anointing of a moment. God is here.

Vigil with the Word: Year C, Fourth Sunday in Lent

The texts for the Fourth Sunday in Lent in Year C are:

Luke 15:1-3,11b-32

Joshua 5:9-12

Psalm 32

2 Corinthians 5:16-21

I have chosen to focus my commentary on the Gospel reading from Luke: 

Now all the tax-collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, ‘This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.’

 So he told them this parable:

The Parable of the Prodigal and His Brother

 Then Jesus said, ‘There was a man who had two sons. The younger of them said to his father, “Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.” So he divided his property between them. A few days later the younger son gathered all he had and travelled to a distant country, and there he squandered his property in dissolute living. When he had spent everything, a severe famine took place throughout that country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to one of the citizens of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs. He would gladly have filled himself with the pods that the pigs were eating; and no one gave him anything. But when he came to himself he said, “How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare, but here I am dying of hunger! I will get up and go to my father, and I will say to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son; treat me like one of your hired hands.’ ” So he set off and went to his father. But while he was still far off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion; he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him. Then the son said to him, “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you; I am no longer worthy to be called your son.” But the father said to his slaves, “Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—and put it on him; put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. And get the fatted calf and kill it, and let us eat and celebrate; for this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found!” And they began to celebrate.

 ‘Now his elder son was in the field; and when he came and approached the house, he heard music and dancing. He called one of the slaves and asked what was going on. He replied, “Your brother has come, and your father has killed the fatted calf, because he has got him back safe and sound.” Then he became angry and refused to go in. His father came out and began to plead with him. But he answered his father, “Listen! For all these years I have been working like a slave for you, and I have never disobeyed your command; yet you have never given me even a young goat so that I might celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours came back, who has devoured your property with prostitutes, you killed the fatted calf for him!” Then the father said to him, “Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. But we had to celebrate and rejoice, because this brother of yours was dead and has come to life; he was lost and has been found.” ’

This is one of the most intriguing parables for me.  It has drama and “dissolute living” and lots of questions of fairness and justice. Prodigal has two meanings: first, spending money or resources extravagantly and recklessly; and second, having or giving something on an extravagant scale. The younger son squanders his inheritance and comes home. His father is delighted to see him and throws a party. His older brother reacts like I would and is suitably outraged. How DARE this irresponsible one be welcomed home? But the father is also prodigal. He is reckless with his love and acceptance. He says to his older son, “this brother of yours was dead and has come to life!” 

I see a lot of prodigal love in my work as a chaplain.  Reckless and outrageous love. Love of daughters caring for their dying parents. For neighbors who made sure that other neighbors are fed. For a son I met the other night who visits his father every single day in the memory care unit, even though his father has not been able to recognize him for months. For people who love with the heart of God, and who proclaim, “Your brother was dead and has come to life…and his life will again lead to death. But he is living now.”

However, the complexity of human experience also demands that we consider all the ways that we are not able to be “prodigal” in our love for others.  How the demands of caregiving lead to resentment. Of family members who cannot bear to see or speak to the dying. And how that is okay, because we all can only do what we can do. Some of us simply cannot bear it. Because this parable is not intended to be instructive. It is intended to be demonstrative. Demonstrating the prodigal love of God for all of the beloved.

Vigil with the Word, Year C, Third Sunday in Lent

A.Kumm-Hanson, 2016

The texts for the third Sunday in Lent are:

Isaiah 55:1-9
Psalm 63:1-8
1 Corinthians 10:1-13
Luke 13:1-9

I have chosen to focus my commentary on the Gospel text.  This is a portion of a sermon I will be preaching this upcoming weekend.

Luke 13:1-9
At that very time there were some present who told him about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. He asked them, ‘Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them—do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did.’
 Then he told this parable: ‘A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. So he said to the gardener, “See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?” He replied, “Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig round it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.” ’

In the course of our daily lives we don’t really equate small inconveniences with our moral uprightness. We don’t believe that our frozen pipes in a blizzard or the dead battery in our car have something to do with our character. But we are not all that different from those gathered around Jesus when it comes to the big stuff. In my work as a chaplain, I bear witness to agonizing questions of “What did I do to deserve this cancer diagnosis?” or “Is this miscarriage a result of my mixed feelings about being pregnant in the first place?” or “My last words to my mom were spoken in anger. I feel like I will be punished for that the rest of my life.” We ask ourselves, “because we have suffered in this way, are we a worse sinner than someone else?” Or worse yet, we attempt to rationalize the suffering of our neighbors by saying “they were asking for it”, “they brought it on themselves” or “it wouldn’t have happened if they were ‘living right’.” When asking these questions for ourselves and others, we become trapped in an agonizing spiral of trying to assign meaning to what is often meaningless. We place ourselves in bondage to a system of rewards and punishments with real life consequences. We stop actually living and instead try to stop ourselves from dying. This is never how God intended us to live.

In the text, Jesus refuses to be part of this broken earthly system, and pointedly remarks, “No! I tell you, unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.” This doesn’t sound that hopeful upon first reading. But repentance is far more interesting than that. Repentance is not about feeling bad and vowing to do something different next time. It is not about a moral renovation of your life. It’s not about getting saved or choosing Jesus. There is so much more to repentance. The Greek word for repentance, metanoia, actually means “to be of a new mind.”

What if repenting meant believing that God claims us wholly and wants  abundant life for us?  What if repenting meant releasing the white-knuckled grip we have on our lives and trusting that the God of the universe has the power to make all things new? Jesus knows that we live in broken world, he cites random violence and an incredible tragedy of a tower falling down as evidence of that fact. The brokenness of the world will continue to be made known to Jesus as we move ever closer to his triumphant entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday and his final walk to the cross throughout this season of Lent. And yet, Jesus still shows up, and like a patient gardener, says to us, “let them alone, I will tend them.”

Vigil with the Word: Year C, Second Sunday in Lent

It's not a mother hen, but its close enough!
A.Kumm-Hanson, NYC, 2014

The texts for the Second Sunday in Lent are:

Genesis 15:1-12,17-18
Psalm 27
Philippians 3:17-4:1
Luke 13:31-35


I have chosen to focus my commentary this week on the Gospel text.

Luke 13:31-35

 At that very hour some Pharisees came and said to him, ‘Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you.’ He said to them, ‘Go and tell that fox for me, “Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed away from Jerusalem.” Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.” ’

Most of the texts during the season of Lent are those leading up to the events of the passion in Jerusalem. Jesus seems to be exasperated in this text.  He is busy healing people and casting out demons and restoring people to life, and the Pharisees are running him out of town. He knows that he is on the way to Jerusalem, he knows what awaits him there, his followers, or the people of God at large, do not yet know. In this text, Jesus is lamenting the willfulness of the people of Jerusalem. A community that “kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it.” A community who cannot hear hard truths and lashes out in anger. Jesus states that he wants to “gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings” and that the community at Jerusalem is still unwilling to be gathered.

I love this imagery.  A mother hen, feathers puffed up and wings spread over a flock of chicks, is delightful. It is nurturing, it is a promise of warmth and protection. It is a sort of promise of “I will bear with you through hard things, through hearing the hard truth about the world and yourselves, and I will bear with you until the end of days.”

And yet, the people of Jerusalem rebel from this promise of care.  Because of the pain of acknowledging the reality of death, brokenness and sin, is far too great, they would rather “kill the messenger.”  We are really no different when we hear some piece of news that reminds us of our mortality.  The most human of responses is to deny, out of self-preservation, news about our death. 

I have been seeing a ton of people lately who have been admitted onto hospice services just hours or days before their death. Who themselves struggle to come to terms with death, and whose families vehemently deny the inevitable process of aging and death and broker prayer deals with God. I also see families in extreme suffering in the hospital, whose loved ones have exhausted every possible avenue of modern medicine in an effort to stave off death, and who bargain with God to stop this mortal inevitability. These kinds of deaths are the most difficult to bear witness to, and they break my heart.

I wonder how living, aging, and dying might change if we nestled into the bosom of a mother-hen God who nurtures us and tends us as the world rages around. We cannot deny that our bodies will fail us, some due to trauma or cancer, some due to age, but that death is not the end, but merely a stop on the way.

Vigil with the Word, Year C, First Sunday in Lent

The texts for the first Sunday in Lent are as follows:

Deuteronomy 26:1-11
Psalm 91:1-2, 9-16
Romans 10:8b-13
Luke 4:1-13

I have chosen to focus my commentary on the Gospel text from Luke and the epistle text from Romans.

Luke 4:1-13

Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished. The devil said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.’ Jesus answered him, ‘It is written, “One does not live by bread alone.” ’

 Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And the devil said to him, ‘To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.’ Jesus answered him, ‘It is written,
“Worship the Lord your God,
and serve only him.” ’

 Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written,
“He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you”, 
and
“On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.” ’ 
Jesus answered him, ‘It is said, “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.” ’ When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.

Romans 10:8b-13

But what does it say?
‘The word is near you,
on your lips and in your heart’
(that is, the word of faith that we proclaim); because if you confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For one believes with the heart and so is justified, and one confesses with the mouth and so is saved. The scripture says, ‘No one who believes in him will be put to shame.’ For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; the same Lord is Lord of all and is generous to all who call on him. For, ‘Everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.’

I find these two texts put into conversation with one another to be particularly interesting. In the Gospel text, Jesus is in the wilderness.  He is being tempted by what the text calls the devil.  I do not believe in the personification of evil, but that is a discussion for another time.  The important takeaway for me from this text is that Jesus is repeatedly tempted by a force outside himself to do something to better his immediate circumstances of suffering (40 days in the wilderness). Jesus’ final comment to his adversary is, “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.”

I find myself frequently wanting to put God to the test.  To say, “I need you to do something to save this patient or alleviate this child’s suffering or show up and do a miracle so that I can believe in you.”  And I am not the only one who does this. Many of my patients suffer crises of faith as they pray fervently for healing and healing does not come. I have done nearly all the theological gymnastics that I can stomach about this issue.  I have tried to be okay with things such as “healing doesn’t come in this life sometimes” or “We are just not seeing the bigger picture and God’s plan” or so on. And I have yet to be satisfied.  What I have settled on is that I just do not know.  I do not have an answer, because sometimes there are not answers.  I am not Jesus, and neither are any of my patients—to the best of my knowledge—so I probably would not be able to resist the temptation of doing something to alleviate suffering in my immediate circumstances.

This Gospel text warns against putting God to the test, but the text from Romans says, “Everyone who calls upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.” So how are my patients who cry out for salvation from their pain and suffering supposed to reconcile these texts? 

I don’t have an answer.  But as I told one of my patients the other day, the only thing that I am 100% sure about is that God knows what it is to suffer because of the cross, and because of that, they are never alone when they suffer. Is it okay to “put God to the test” to alleviate suffering or intractable pain?  Is it acceptable to pray for very specific things (safety in surgery, a brain bleed to be healed, and so on) or is that putting God to the test? Furthermore, what does it mean to be saved?  Is it merely an existential, far off, sort of idea? Like you shall be saved from this life…eventually. But there is a lot of pain you have to endure first. Or is salvation more immediate? Saying that you will be saved and have eternal life is absolutely ridiculous to someone who is enduring the excruciating pain of cancer or trauma from a hospital bed.

I am not willing to settle on any quick and easy answers nor am I willing to preach them to others.  It is not as simple as advising “Do not put the Lord your God to the test” or offering the platitude “Everyone who calls upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.” Maybe the only comfort is that God knows what it is to suffer and even Jesus called out to God from the cross.  In dying, suffering, and pain, we are not alone.