April 2022
"What's in a name?"
Fifth Sunday in Lent; based on John 12:1-8 (texts at end of post)
April 3, 2022
Have you ever wondered why some names are so popular? Since moving here six years ago, I’ve met a lot of men named Cody. For example, Cody was the name of a board member of the Minnkota Health Project, which back then offered an HIV support group that today is our Positive Hearts program. Another Cody was a member of the Pride Collective board when I joined.
The manager of the old Usher’s House restaurant is also named Cody. Yet another Cody is the executive director of the FM Coalition to End Homelessness. And just a couple weeks ago, I met a Cody who works at the Total Balance gym near my home.
The name “Cody” reminds me of the Wild West, and “Buffalo Bill” Cody. With its connection to cowboys and Western culture, the name sounds kind of macho. Even though most of the Codys I know are gay. Cody comes from an Irish surname meaning “helper.” Back in the 1990s it was one of the ten most popular names for baby boys here in North Dakota. Which is why so many millennials have that name today. But that trend has changed. The top five boy names in the U.S. now are Liam, Noah, Oliver, Elijah, and Lucas.
Back during the time of the writing of the Gospels, the most common names for Jewish men in Israel were Simon, Joseph (which I like!), Lazarus, Judas, and John. For women, they were Mary, Salome, Martha, Joanna, and Sapphira. Sound familiar? Most of their names are sprinkled throughout the Gospels.
Mary is a name that pops up all over the place. Which is not surprising when you consider that Mary is the Latinized version of Miriam, the Jewish sister of Moses—who’s famous for the song she sang when the Egyptian troops were drowned in the Red Sea. It makes sense that Jewish mothers would name their daughters after her, especially during the time of Roman oppression of their people.
So, we have a lot of Marys in the Gospels. Like the mother of Jesus, who in John is one of three Mary’s who stand at the foot of Jesus’ cross. Along with Mary Magdalene; and Mary, the wife of Clopas, who was also probably Jesus’ aunt.
In the Gospel of John, Mary Magdalene is the woman who comes by herself to the tomb on Easter morning—the first disciple to meet the risen Christ. Earlier in John, another Mary is the sister of Lazarus, whom Jesus raised from the dead. The same Mary in today’s reading.
Because there are so many Marys in these Gospel stories, a lot of people mix them up and turn them into one character: Mary Magdalene. Back in the 6th century, Catholic Pope Gregory the Great did exactly that. With a sermon combining a story from Luke (7:36-50) about an unnamed “sinful” woman who anoints Jesus’s feet, with today’s lesson about Mary of Bethany, and other passages about Mary Magdalene. Ultimately creating just one woman, with one name, and one questionable reputation as a prostitute.
The Catholic Church finally corrected that mistake at Vatican II in 1962—stating that Mary Magdalene was neither the woman from Luke, nor Mary of Bethany, nor a sex worker. But after 1,300 years, a lot of damage was done by theologians and preachers to Mary’s image. When I was serving as an intern during seminary at a church in Wisconsin, I remember having an intense disagreement with our church secretary, who insisted Mary Magdalene was a prostitute. Because it says so in the Bible! (Which it doesn’t.)
So, you might be wondering: if the Mary in today’s lesson is not Mary Magdalene, then who is she? Well, she’s definitely a good friend of Jesus, as were her siblings Lazarus and Martha. Jesus used their home as a stopping place during his ministry. She’s definitely a believer, who witnesses Jesus’ greatest miracle—the raising of her brother from the dead (which in John becomes the reason that people want to get rid of Jesus.) She’s definitely a visionary—someone who sees something none of the male disciples could or would see—that Jesus is headed toward a cruel and tragic death.
And she’s definitely got a lot of chutzpah. For she’s not afraid of what people might say. Even when she uses very exotic perfume to anoint Jesus’ feet with her hair. It’s all very extravagant and excessive and expensive—worth 300 denarii, which back then was equal to a common laborer’s annual salary, which in our job market would be at least $20,000.
Even today, there are costly perfumes. Chanel has one named Grand Exhibit that sells for $4,000. Its scent is described as “a bouquet of abstract flowers with a divine touch of femininity.” With a price tag like that, the scent better be divine!
I imagine Mary’s ointment was something similar. The scent in this story, of course, is symbolic. The pungent perfume of eternal life overcomes the stench of death lingering just outside the door. Longing to reclaim her brother Lazarus. And waiting to seize Jesus in six short days. But while the fragrance is symbolic, Mary’s action is a dramatic demonstration of the paradoxical leadership style taught by Jesus. That the greatest must become the least. A servant model for every Christian.
Nearly a century ago, the famous Hindu spiritual leader Mahatma Ghandi was asked by a missionary what he thought of Christians coming to India. Ghandi replied with a question: “Let us think of the bulk of your people who preach the Gospel…. Do they spread the perfume of their lives? That is my sole criterion. All I want them to do is to live Christian lives…. Don’t [just] talk about it. [For] a rose doesn’t have to propagate its perfume. It just gives it forth, and people are drawn to it.” *
While living with Christians in his country, Gandhi expected to experience qualities like unconditional love, forgiveness, and kindness. But the Christians he knew failed to live up to the standards revealed by Jesus in his teachings and his death on the cross.
Sadly, we see the same thing today. Such as Christian politicians who support hateful laws targeting trans and queer youth. Such as religious groups that challenge local school boards and teachers working to embrace racial diversity and inclusion. Not unlike Mary, a Middle Eastern Jewish woman, who was criticized by Judas (a male disciple with another maligned name) for her devotion.
Nevertheless, this Mary’s extravagant gift and outrageous behavior will always be associated with her name. As symbols of her radical love. Just a few days later on the night before his death, even Jesus seems to imitate Mary by washing his disciples’ feet. Perhaps Jesus borrowed the idea from her. (Men have been known to do things like that.) Using Ghandi’s imagery, I believe Mary challenges us Christians to spread the irresistible scent of the love of Jesus in our daily lives. St. Paul uses a similar metaphor in Ephesians 5:2, where he says, “Live in love as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”
This week, our Lenten book discussion with people from Temple Beth El had its last session, which we decided to hold in person. The book we read, Shalom and the Community of Creation, focuses on ways we as faithful people can live out the Jewish concept of Shalom—which the author suggests is similar to the Native American practice of the Harmony Way, as well as Jesus’ teachings about the Kingdom of God.
In his book, Randy Woodley talks about how Native Americans understand their role on earth as those who restore harmony in practical ways. He shares an example of practical shalom-making in the ancient Cherokee cementation ceremony—a ritual full of smells and sights and actions. It’s a rite where anyone who has had a grievance with another person during the previous year may participate in a ceremony of reconciliation, which he describes something like this:
“The basic components of the ceremony include a fire and prayers… spoken by a holy person….” Then the family and friends on each side of the disagreement face each other. Each party gives an account of the offense. Next, they go to the fire to pray for the strength to forgive. Then the two strip and exchange clothing. Following that, they speak words of forgiveness and vow never to bring up the issue again. The pipe is passed back and forth. Finally, gifts are exchanged, and a feast prepared by both parties for the whole community.**
I believe that’s the kind of ceremony Jesus tells us to act out this morning around this table here (our communion table.) With an exchange of peace. A feast of forgiveness. And gifts of extravagant grace. At a table that symbolizes an open welcome to all people—whatever your name, or tribe, or identity.
With bread and wine offered as gifts by our Creator, who calls you and me and every human “beloved children of God.” In this place, where Jesus bids each of us by name to follow him in the way of the cross. The way of reconciliation and peace and love. Amen.
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*M. J. Gandhi, The Message of Jesus Christ, ed. Anand T. Hingorani (Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya Bhaven, 1986), 44.
**Randy S. Woodley, Shalom and the Community of Creation: An Indigenous Vision (Wm. E Eerdmans Publishing Co., Grand Rapids, MI, 2021).
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Gospel Reading: John 12:1-8
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.”
The manager of the old Usher’s House restaurant is also named Cody. Yet another Cody is the executive director of the FM Coalition to End Homelessness. And just a couple weeks ago, I met a Cody who works at the Total Balance gym near my home.
The name “Cody” reminds me of the Wild West, and “Buffalo Bill” Cody. With its connection to cowboys and Western culture, the name sounds kind of macho. Even though most of the Codys I know are gay. Cody comes from an Irish surname meaning “helper.” Back in the 1990s it was one of the ten most popular names for baby boys here in North Dakota. Which is why so many millennials have that name today. But that trend has changed. The top five boy names in the U.S. now are Liam, Noah, Oliver, Elijah, and Lucas.
Back during the time of the writing of the Gospels, the most common names for Jewish men in Israel were Simon, Joseph (which I like!), Lazarus, Judas, and John. For women, they were Mary, Salome, Martha, Joanna, and Sapphira. Sound familiar? Most of their names are sprinkled throughout the Gospels.
Mary is a name that pops up all over the place. Which is not surprising when you consider that Mary is the Latinized version of Miriam, the Jewish sister of Moses—who’s famous for the song she sang when the Egyptian troops were drowned in the Red Sea. It makes sense that Jewish mothers would name their daughters after her, especially during the time of Roman oppression of their people.
So, we have a lot of Marys in the Gospels. Like the mother of Jesus, who in John is one of three Mary’s who stand at the foot of Jesus’ cross. Along with Mary Magdalene; and Mary, the wife of Clopas, who was also probably Jesus’ aunt.
In the Gospel of John, Mary Magdalene is the woman who comes by herself to the tomb on Easter morning—the first disciple to meet the risen Christ. Earlier in John, another Mary is the sister of Lazarus, whom Jesus raised from the dead. The same Mary in today’s reading.
Because there are so many Marys in these Gospel stories, a lot of people mix them up and turn them into one character: Mary Magdalene. Back in the 6th century, Catholic Pope Gregory the Great did exactly that. With a sermon combining a story from Luke (7:36-50) about an unnamed “sinful” woman who anoints Jesus’s feet, with today’s lesson about Mary of Bethany, and other passages about Mary Magdalene. Ultimately creating just one woman, with one name, and one questionable reputation as a prostitute.
The Catholic Church finally corrected that mistake at Vatican II in 1962—stating that Mary Magdalene was neither the woman from Luke, nor Mary of Bethany, nor a sex worker. But after 1,300 years, a lot of damage was done by theologians and preachers to Mary’s image. When I was serving as an intern during seminary at a church in Wisconsin, I remember having an intense disagreement with our church secretary, who insisted Mary Magdalene was a prostitute. Because it says so in the Bible! (Which it doesn’t.)
So, you might be wondering: if the Mary in today’s lesson is not Mary Magdalene, then who is she? Well, she’s definitely a good friend of Jesus, as were her siblings Lazarus and Martha. Jesus used their home as a stopping place during his ministry. She’s definitely a believer, who witnesses Jesus’ greatest miracle—the raising of her brother from the dead (which in John becomes the reason that people want to get rid of Jesus.) She’s definitely a visionary—someone who sees something none of the male disciples could or would see—that Jesus is headed toward a cruel and tragic death.
And she’s definitely got a lot of chutzpah. For she’s not afraid of what people might say. Even when she uses very exotic perfume to anoint Jesus’ feet with her hair. It’s all very extravagant and excessive and expensive—worth 300 denarii, which back then was equal to a common laborer’s annual salary, which in our job market would be at least $20,000.
Even today, there are costly perfumes. Chanel has one named Grand Exhibit that sells for $4,000. Its scent is described as “a bouquet of abstract flowers with a divine touch of femininity.” With a price tag like that, the scent better be divine!
I imagine Mary’s ointment was something similar. The scent in this story, of course, is symbolic. The pungent perfume of eternal life overcomes the stench of death lingering just outside the door. Longing to reclaim her brother Lazarus. And waiting to seize Jesus in six short days. But while the fragrance is symbolic, Mary’s action is a dramatic demonstration of the paradoxical leadership style taught by Jesus. That the greatest must become the least. A servant model for every Christian.
Nearly a century ago, the famous Hindu spiritual leader Mahatma Ghandi was asked by a missionary what he thought of Christians coming to India. Ghandi replied with a question: “Let us think of the bulk of your people who preach the Gospel…. Do they spread the perfume of their lives? That is my sole criterion. All I want them to do is to live Christian lives…. Don’t [just] talk about it. [For] a rose doesn’t have to propagate its perfume. It just gives it forth, and people are drawn to it.” *
While living with Christians in his country, Gandhi expected to experience qualities like unconditional love, forgiveness, and kindness. But the Christians he knew failed to live up to the standards revealed by Jesus in his teachings and his death on the cross.
Sadly, we see the same thing today. Such as Christian politicians who support hateful laws targeting trans and queer youth. Such as religious groups that challenge local school boards and teachers working to embrace racial diversity and inclusion. Not unlike Mary, a Middle Eastern Jewish woman, who was criticized by Judas (a male disciple with another maligned name) for her devotion.
Nevertheless, this Mary’s extravagant gift and outrageous behavior will always be associated with her name. As symbols of her radical love. Just a few days later on the night before his death, even Jesus seems to imitate Mary by washing his disciples’ feet. Perhaps Jesus borrowed the idea from her. (Men have been known to do things like that.) Using Ghandi’s imagery, I believe Mary challenges us Christians to spread the irresistible scent of the love of Jesus in our daily lives. St. Paul uses a similar metaphor in Ephesians 5:2, where he says, “Live in love as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”
This week, our Lenten book discussion with people from Temple Beth El had its last session, which we decided to hold in person. The book we read, Shalom and the Community of Creation, focuses on ways we as faithful people can live out the Jewish concept of Shalom—which the author suggests is similar to the Native American practice of the Harmony Way, as well as Jesus’ teachings about the Kingdom of God.
In his book, Randy Woodley talks about how Native Americans understand their role on earth as those who restore harmony in practical ways. He shares an example of practical shalom-making in the ancient Cherokee cementation ceremony—a ritual full of smells and sights and actions. It’s a rite where anyone who has had a grievance with another person during the previous year may participate in a ceremony of reconciliation, which he describes something like this:
“The basic components of the ceremony include a fire and prayers… spoken by a holy person….” Then the family and friends on each side of the disagreement face each other. Each party gives an account of the offense. Next, they go to the fire to pray for the strength to forgive. Then the two strip and exchange clothing. Following that, they speak words of forgiveness and vow never to bring up the issue again. The pipe is passed back and forth. Finally, gifts are exchanged, and a feast prepared by both parties for the whole community.**
I believe that’s the kind of ceremony Jesus tells us to act out this morning around this table here (our communion table.) With an exchange of peace. A feast of forgiveness. And gifts of extravagant grace. At a table that symbolizes an open welcome to all people—whatever your name, or tribe, or identity.
With bread and wine offered as gifts by our Creator, who calls you and me and every human “beloved children of God.” In this place, where Jesus bids each of us by name to follow him in the way of the cross. The way of reconciliation and peace and love. Amen.
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*M. J. Gandhi, The Message of Jesus Christ, ed. Anand T. Hingorani (Bombay: Bharatiya Vidya Bhaven, 1986), 44.
**Randy S. Woodley, Shalom and the Community of Creation: An Indigenous Vision (Wm. E Eerdmans Publishing Co., Grand Rapids, MI, 2021).
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Gospel Reading: John 12:1-8
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.”
"Do You Hear the Stones?"
Palm Sunday; based on Luke 19:28-40 (texts at end of post)
April 10, 2022
Jesus said, “I tell you, if these people were silent, the stones would cry out.”
Today I ask you, do you hear the stones?
Native American tribes here in North Dakota tell stories about a large holy stone (really a giant boulder), sometimes called “The Painted Rock” or “Talking Stone,” located close to the Cannon Ball River, near Brisbane, ND.
In the late 1800s, a Native American man named Reclining Bear of the Hunkpapa tribe was interviewed about that sacred stone, which he described with these words:
“This stone is a big one…. as big as a log house…. It has many marks upon it. The marks are made by the spirits. When we came near to it, we sang songs and acted very respectfully…. We camped on the
water and not too near it. Then when we were ready, [an] old man carried a pipe to it. He carried the stem in both hands in front of his body. He extended it toward the sky and toward the holy stone.... There he sat down and smoked with four draws through it. He placed the pipe there. He poured out some tobacco there. He [sang] a good song [there]....
“The next day [when the old man] went again…, there were other marks upon the stone…. marks… made by spirits. They were never the same marks…. [The stone] told us what to do…. It told where the
buffalo had gone… If the people did like it said, they were all right. One time [the stone] sang a song with words.”*
For the people of Reclining Bear’s tribe, the sacred, living stone was speaking to them. With words that guided them, when they stopped to listen. With words they needed to hear.
Jesus said, “If these people were silent, the stones would cry out.”
Today is Palm Sunday. At least that’s what we called it when I was a kid. Now it’s “Palm-slash-Passion Sunday.” Now we combine all the stories of Holy Week into one Sunday service. That’s why we read the entire passion story in today’s Gospel readings from Luke. With a lot of words.
The same story is told in Mark and Matthew. Beginning with Jesus riding a donkey into Jerusalem. But in Luke, something’s different. In Luke, there are no palm branches or branches of any kind. The people only lay down coats in the street. Which means if we only had Luke as a Gospel, there would be no Palm Sunday.
There’s also one other unusual detail in Luke. The story of the talking rocks. Where Jesus responds to religious leaders, who tell him to silence the crowd. Hearing the people call Jesus “king,” the leaders fear that Rome will send their troops to quiet the crowd with horses and swords.
But Jesus says, “If these people were silent, the stones would cry out.”
For the rocks hear what the people say. The rocks remember the blood of those murdered by cruel oppressors. Long after the battles have ended. Long after the dead are mourned. Long after that generation has passed.
A story that will also be true in the country of Ukraine. For long after the Russian troops have departed, the blood-stained pebbles in their streets will remember. As will the survivors.
As it was true of the stones in Jerusalem—long after the city was destroyed and the massive building blocks of its holy Temple were pulled down by the Romans in 70 AD. Long after Luke wrote his gospel twenty years later, with this story about the stones crying out.
When on Palm Sunday, the rocks witness the people singing joyous hosannas. But five days later, they also hear the crowd shout angry words of “Crucify!” And see Jesus stumble over their fellow stones as he carries his cross. The rocks speak when everyone else is silent. The pebbles cry as women weep.
Jesus said, “If these people were silent, the stones would cry out.”
Rocks and stones have long been a way for people to honor their dead. Traditionally, they mark the grave of a loved one to make it easy to find later. Like gravestones in cemeteries.
One burial custom for Jewish people involves placing stones on graves. You might remember the movie, “Schindler's List,” a 1993 film directed by Steven Spielberg. It tells the story of Oskar Schindler, a German businessman who saved more than a thousand mostly Polish Jews from the Holocaust during World War II by employing them in his factories.
Halfway through the shoot, Spielberg came up with an idea for the closing scene—where 128 of those same Holocaust survivors (along with the actors who portrayed them) pay their respects by placing stones on Schindler's actual grave in Jerusalem.
It’s a practice that goes back centuries. With various explanations. On Friday I called my friend David Myers from Temple Beth El and asked him about it. He told me no one really knows where the custom comes from or exactly what it means. A common belief is that leaving stones is a way to pay homage to the deceased. To show others that a grave has been visited.
For some people, flowers might be a gift to the living, but David told me that many Jewish people believe it’s a better act (they call it a mitzvah) to make a donation to a charity. Thinking about stones as symbols, David noted that unlike flowers, stones do not die—representing the enduring impact of a loved one’s faith and life. Putting a stone on their grave symbolizes how they live on in our hearts and families and memories.
The cross of Christ is like that kind of stone. An inanimate object that reminds us Jesus came and lived and died for people like us.
A symbol that speaks of God’s love for each of us, especially when we feel burdened by grief and loss. Especially when the voices of this world tell us we are unlovely and unlovable. Especially when death surrounds us.
From his grave, Jesus pushed aside the stone of death, that we might become living stones that speak words of grace we all need to hear. And that we might join the voices of the stones of this earth in singing praises to our Creator.
For as Jesus said, “If these people—if you people here today—were silent, the stones would cry out.” Amen.
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*“Native American Sacred Stones and Holy Places” (Oral History of the Dakota Tribes: 1800s – 1945:As Told to Col. A.B. Welch, Chapter 2; Welch Dakota Papers; https://www.welchdakotapapers.com/2011/12/sacred-stones-and-holy-places/#chapter-ii).
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Gospel Lesson: Luke 19:28-40
After he had said this, [Jesus] went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem. When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples, saying, “Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it.’” So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them. As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?” They said, “The Lord needs it.” Then they brought it to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it.
As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would [cry] out.”
Today I ask you, do you hear the stones?
Native American tribes here in North Dakota tell stories about a large holy stone (really a giant boulder), sometimes called “The Painted Rock” or “Talking Stone,” located close to the Cannon Ball River, near Brisbane, ND.
In the late 1800s, a Native American man named Reclining Bear of the Hunkpapa tribe was interviewed about that sacred stone, which he described with these words:
“This stone is a big one…. as big as a log house…. It has many marks upon it. The marks are made by the spirits. When we came near to it, we sang songs and acted very respectfully…. We camped on the
water and not too near it. Then when we were ready, [an] old man carried a pipe to it. He carried the stem in both hands in front of his body. He extended it toward the sky and toward the holy stone.... There he sat down and smoked with four draws through it. He placed the pipe there. He poured out some tobacco there. He [sang] a good song [there]....
“The next day [when the old man] went again…, there were other marks upon the stone…. marks… made by spirits. They were never the same marks…. [The stone] told us what to do…. It told where the
buffalo had gone… If the people did like it said, they were all right. One time [the stone] sang a song with words.”*
For the people of Reclining Bear’s tribe, the sacred, living stone was speaking to them. With words that guided them, when they stopped to listen. With words they needed to hear.
Jesus said, “If these people were silent, the stones would cry out.”
Today is Palm Sunday. At least that’s what we called it when I was a kid. Now it’s “Palm-slash-Passion Sunday.” Now we combine all the stories of Holy Week into one Sunday service. That’s why we read the entire passion story in today’s Gospel readings from Luke. With a lot of words.
The same story is told in Mark and Matthew. Beginning with Jesus riding a donkey into Jerusalem. But in Luke, something’s different. In Luke, there are no palm branches or branches of any kind. The people only lay down coats in the street. Which means if we only had Luke as a Gospel, there would be no Palm Sunday.
There’s also one other unusual detail in Luke. The story of the talking rocks. Where Jesus responds to religious leaders, who tell him to silence the crowd. Hearing the people call Jesus “king,” the leaders fear that Rome will send their troops to quiet the crowd with horses and swords.
But Jesus says, “If these people were silent, the stones would cry out.”
For the rocks hear what the people say. The rocks remember the blood of those murdered by cruel oppressors. Long after the battles have ended. Long after the dead are mourned. Long after that generation has passed.
A story that will also be true in the country of Ukraine. For long after the Russian troops have departed, the blood-stained pebbles in their streets will remember. As will the survivors.
As it was true of the stones in Jerusalem—long after the city was destroyed and the massive building blocks of its holy Temple were pulled down by the Romans in 70 AD. Long after Luke wrote his gospel twenty years later, with this story about the stones crying out.
When on Palm Sunday, the rocks witness the people singing joyous hosannas. But five days later, they also hear the crowd shout angry words of “Crucify!” And see Jesus stumble over their fellow stones as he carries his cross. The rocks speak when everyone else is silent. The pebbles cry as women weep.
Jesus said, “If these people were silent, the stones would cry out.”
Rocks and stones have long been a way for people to honor their dead. Traditionally, they mark the grave of a loved one to make it easy to find later. Like gravestones in cemeteries.
One burial custom for Jewish people involves placing stones on graves. You might remember the movie, “Schindler's List,” a 1993 film directed by Steven Spielberg. It tells the story of Oskar Schindler, a German businessman who saved more than a thousand mostly Polish Jews from the Holocaust during World War II by employing them in his factories.
Halfway through the shoot, Spielberg came up with an idea for the closing scene—where 128 of those same Holocaust survivors (along with the actors who portrayed them) pay their respects by placing stones on Schindler's actual grave in Jerusalem.
It’s a practice that goes back centuries. With various explanations. On Friday I called my friend David Myers from Temple Beth El and asked him about it. He told me no one really knows where the custom comes from or exactly what it means. A common belief is that leaving stones is a way to pay homage to the deceased. To show others that a grave has been visited.
For some people, flowers might be a gift to the living, but David told me that many Jewish people believe it’s a better act (they call it a mitzvah) to make a donation to a charity. Thinking about stones as symbols, David noted that unlike flowers, stones do not die—representing the enduring impact of a loved one’s faith and life. Putting a stone on their grave symbolizes how they live on in our hearts and families and memories.
The cross of Christ is like that kind of stone. An inanimate object that reminds us Jesus came and lived and died for people like us.
A symbol that speaks of God’s love for each of us, especially when we feel burdened by grief and loss. Especially when the voices of this world tell us we are unlovely and unlovable. Especially when death surrounds us.
From his grave, Jesus pushed aside the stone of death, that we might become living stones that speak words of grace we all need to hear. And that we might join the voices of the stones of this earth in singing praises to our Creator.
For as Jesus said, “If these people—if you people here today—were silent, the stones would cry out.” Amen.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*“Native American Sacred Stones and Holy Places” (Oral History of the Dakota Tribes: 1800s – 1945:As Told to Col. A.B. Welch, Chapter 2; Welch Dakota Papers; https://www.welchdakotapapers.com/2011/12/sacred-stones-and-holy-places/#chapter-ii).
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Gospel Lesson: Luke 19:28-40
After he had said this, [Jesus] went on ahead, going up to Jerusalem. When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples, saying, “Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’ just say this, ‘The Lord needs it.’” So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them. As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?” They said, “The Lord needs it.” Then they brought it to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it.
As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.” He answered, “I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would [cry] out.”
"Butterflies on Walls"
Easter Sunday; based on John 20:1-18 (texts at end of post)
April 17, 2022
You probably are familiar with Dr. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross, a Swiss-American psychiatrist widely known for her work on death and dying, and the stages of grief. In her book The Wheel of Life, A Memoir of Living and Dying, she writes about an unusual experience after World War II during a visit to the Nazi’s Maidanek concentration camp in Poland. While walking through the children’s barracks, Dr. Kubler-Ross saw girls’ and boys’ clothing and shoes scattered on the floor. A depressing scene.
But she also saw something that amazed her. Carved into the walls of the barracks were hundreds of butterflies, drawn by little fingers. Staring at the butterflies, she wondered why they were there. And what they meant.
Twenty-five years later, after listening to stories of dozens of terminally ill patients, her eyes were opened. She finally understood the symbolism of the butterflies. Because the young prisoners in the Holocaust camps knew they were going to die, Dr. Kubler-Ross wrote:
“They knew that soon they would become butterflies. Once dead, they would be out of that hellish place. Not tortured anymore. Not separated from their families. Not sent to gas chambers…. Soon they would leave their bodies the way a butterfly leaves its cocoon. And I realized that was the message they wanted to leave for future generations…. It also provided the imagery that I would use for the rest of my career to explain the process of death and dying.” *
I imagine that surprising discovery by Dr. Kubler-Ross as similar to the experience of Mary Magdalene when she entered Jesus’ tomb on that first Easter. Mary got up early that morning expecting to deal with an awful death scene. Walking past the place where Jesus had hung on a cross two days before, she braces herself for seeing his bruised and bloody body one last time.
Instead, Mary finds an open tomb and scattered linens. She’s astonished and confused. Mary rushes to Peter and shouts, “They’ve taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they laid him.”
Later, when she comes face to face with Jesus, Mary assumes that he’s the gardener (maybe because his fingernails were dirty—we gardeners usually have a problem with that.) And she demands the gardener tell her where he put the body. Mary’s mind is trying to understand something she sees that just doesn’t make sense.
Then Jesus speaks her name. And instantly Mary’s eyes are opened. The gardener becomes the creator of new life. The death-filled tomb becomes a holy cocoon from which bursts a beautiful promise. Mary sees something completely unexpected. Instead of a dead corpse taken from an ugly tree, she discovers renewed hope.
During a time when men didn’t listen to women (which is still a problem for us menfolk today), Mary—a single female—is the first to tell the male disciples the good news. Some theologians call Mary Magdalene the “Apostle to the Apostles.”
Because Mary is the first witness of the resurrection. Because Mary goes to where the men are hiding. Because Mary proclaims the first words of the risen Jesus. Because Mary inspires others to see a new vision. Because Mary shares an incredible discovery.
Maya Angelou, the world-renowned African American poet once said, “Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.”
Mary Magdalene had that kind of life-changing moment. Which some might call a metamorphosis. The word “metamorphosis” refers to the physical transformation of a caterpillar to a butterfly. But it’s also used to describe a profound change in a person’s appearance, circumstance, or character. That’s the kind of transformation Mary experienced. And nothing could stop her from sharing it.
Many immigrants know what metamorphosis feels like. For they’ve faced profound transitions in all aspects of their lives and families and identities. In her book, Being at Home in the World, my friend Laetitia Mizero Hellerud (who lives here in Fargo) shares her story as a four-time refugee. An experience that opened her eyes to see adaptation and resilience not just as responses to stressful events, but also as a way of purposeful and authentic living.
Laetitia writes these wise words of advice for those of us struggling with change:
“Life doesn’t come with a manual… we have to figure it out as we live. But the sooner you discover what your purpose is, the better and easier it feels. Desperation forced me to dig and find what I wanted to live for and what was worth fighting for. [But] you don’t have to wait until you are suffocating for air to establish your mission in life.” **
Laetitia offers some questions for each of us to consider for discovering new meaning in our lives, such as:
- What sustains you? What’s your passion?
- If you knew you had just a short time to live, where would you focus your energy?
- What do you want your friends and loved ones to remember about you after you die?
Today, I believe Easter is a day to reflect on where Jesus might open our eyes to see how you and I might create a metamorphosis out of the very things that feel dead. Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon.
Easter is also a day to open our eyes to see the risen Christ in people around us—in signs that are easy to miss. Like smiles on the faces of children. Like the visitor who needs to know we care. Like immigrants in our community who need church people to support them. Like queer and trans youth who need to hear our words of acceptance and love.
Experiences that offer amazing opportunities for faithful people like you and me—who believe that Easter is not just a promise of life after death. But also the promise of metamorphosis in the midst of living and sometimes dying.
For we are an Easter people. And this place is the garden where our eyes are opened anew to see signs of the resurrected Jesus among us. Like butterflies on walls.
For Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia!
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* Elisabeth Kübler-Ross; The Wheel of Life: A Memoir of Living and Dying. The Wheel of Life (Simon and Schuster, New York, 1998).
** Laetitia Mizero Hellerud, Being at Home in the World: Cross-Cultural Leadership Lessons to Guide Your Journey (Hawaii: Aloha Publishing, 2017) p. 58.
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Gospel Lesson: John 20:1-18
Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. 10Then the disciples returned to their homes.
But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’ ” Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her.
But she also saw something that amazed her. Carved into the walls of the barracks were hundreds of butterflies, drawn by little fingers. Staring at the butterflies, she wondered why they were there. And what they meant.
Twenty-five years later, after listening to stories of dozens of terminally ill patients, her eyes were opened. She finally understood the symbolism of the butterflies. Because the young prisoners in the Holocaust camps knew they were going to die, Dr. Kubler-Ross wrote:
“They knew that soon they would become butterflies. Once dead, they would be out of that hellish place. Not tortured anymore. Not separated from their families. Not sent to gas chambers…. Soon they would leave their bodies the way a butterfly leaves its cocoon. And I realized that was the message they wanted to leave for future generations…. It also provided the imagery that I would use for the rest of my career to explain the process of death and dying.” *
I imagine that surprising discovery by Dr. Kubler-Ross as similar to the experience of Mary Magdalene when she entered Jesus’ tomb on that first Easter. Mary got up early that morning expecting to deal with an awful death scene. Walking past the place where Jesus had hung on a cross two days before, she braces herself for seeing his bruised and bloody body one last time.
Instead, Mary finds an open tomb and scattered linens. She’s astonished and confused. Mary rushes to Peter and shouts, “They’ve taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they laid him.”
Later, when she comes face to face with Jesus, Mary assumes that he’s the gardener (maybe because his fingernails were dirty—we gardeners usually have a problem with that.) And she demands the gardener tell her where he put the body. Mary’s mind is trying to understand something she sees that just doesn’t make sense.
Then Jesus speaks her name. And instantly Mary’s eyes are opened. The gardener becomes the creator of new life. The death-filled tomb becomes a holy cocoon from which bursts a beautiful promise. Mary sees something completely unexpected. Instead of a dead corpse taken from an ugly tree, she discovers renewed hope.
During a time when men didn’t listen to women (which is still a problem for us menfolk today), Mary—a single female—is the first to tell the male disciples the good news. Some theologians call Mary Magdalene the “Apostle to the Apostles.”
Because Mary is the first witness of the resurrection. Because Mary goes to where the men are hiding. Because Mary proclaims the first words of the risen Jesus. Because Mary inspires others to see a new vision. Because Mary shares an incredible discovery.
Maya Angelou, the world-renowned African American poet once said, “Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.”
Mary Magdalene had that kind of life-changing moment. Which some might call a metamorphosis. The word “metamorphosis” refers to the physical transformation of a caterpillar to a butterfly. But it’s also used to describe a profound change in a person’s appearance, circumstance, or character. That’s the kind of transformation Mary experienced. And nothing could stop her from sharing it.
Many immigrants know what metamorphosis feels like. For they’ve faced profound transitions in all aspects of their lives and families and identities. In her book, Being at Home in the World, my friend Laetitia Mizero Hellerud (who lives here in Fargo) shares her story as a four-time refugee. An experience that opened her eyes to see adaptation and resilience not just as responses to stressful events, but also as a way of purposeful and authentic living.
Laetitia writes these wise words of advice for those of us struggling with change:
“Life doesn’t come with a manual… we have to figure it out as we live. But the sooner you discover what your purpose is, the better and easier it feels. Desperation forced me to dig and find what I wanted to live for and what was worth fighting for. [But] you don’t have to wait until you are suffocating for air to establish your mission in life.” **
Laetitia offers some questions for each of us to consider for discovering new meaning in our lives, such as:
- What sustains you? What’s your passion?
- If you knew you had just a short time to live, where would you focus your energy?
- What do you want your friends and loved ones to remember about you after you die?
Today, I believe Easter is a day to reflect on where Jesus might open our eyes to see how you and I might create a metamorphosis out of the very things that feel dead. Like a butterfly emerging from a cocoon.
Easter is also a day to open our eyes to see the risen Christ in people around us—in signs that are easy to miss. Like smiles on the faces of children. Like the visitor who needs to know we care. Like immigrants in our community who need church people to support them. Like queer and trans youth who need to hear our words of acceptance and love.
Experiences that offer amazing opportunities for faithful people like you and me—who believe that Easter is not just a promise of life after death. But also the promise of metamorphosis in the midst of living and sometimes dying.
For we are an Easter people. And this place is the garden where our eyes are opened anew to see signs of the resurrected Jesus among us. Like butterflies on walls.
For Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia!
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* Elisabeth Kübler-Ross; The Wheel of Life: A Memoir of Living and Dying. The Wheel of Life (Simon and Schuster, New York, 1998).
** Laetitia Mizero Hellerud, Being at Home in the World: Cross-Cultural Leadership Lessons to Guide Your Journey (Hawaii: Aloha Publishing, 2017) p. 58.
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Gospel Lesson: John 20:1-18
Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. 10Then the disciples returned to their homes.
But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’ ” Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her.