If I call your name, you will respond. In this simple correspondence between you and me, there emerges a sense of self; I am seen by you, and you are seen by me. We bear witness to each other's state of being and becoming, existing in the flux of time and space.
One reason we grieve for the loss of loved ones is the unique and singular part of ourselves that dies with them. In each relationship, we are distinct selves. Each relationship holds a nuanced experience. For example, my kids have one dad but their experience of me is three-fold as if they have three different dads who are the same person. Theodore’s experience of me as his dad isn’t necessarily identical to Henry's or Dorothy’s. Mary Magdalene’s sight is clouded with tears of sorrow for the death of her beloved teacher Jesus. In her relationship with Jesus, she no longer exists because there’s no Jesus to see her. The part of who she is in her relation to Jesus feels lost and gone. In their relationship, her existence feels diminished without his presence. She grieves not only for him but also for the missing aspect of herself that flourished in their connection. Perhaps, Freya Ridings’ song “Lost without you” would express Mary’s feelings (youtu.be/tDPpex1wvOc?si=rSFVcpOblDjfGRKG): You were the only safe haven that I’ve known / Hits me at full speed, feel like I can't breathe / And nobody knows this pain inside me / My world is crumbling, I should never have let you go / I think I'm lost without you / I just feel crushed without you / And I've been strong for so long But Mary’s eyes are cleared as soon as she hears her name, not just from anyone but from her beloved teacher. It’s the one who has shown a new way to live her life through the inner presence of God in which she felt forgiven, embraced, and empowered to change. The gardener near the empty tomb of Jesus is no longer a concerned stranger. She recognizes the unique tone of voice, manner, accent, and rhythm Jesus used to call her. Her safe haven is back. She regains her sense of who she is, the best version of herself as the gardener is transfigured into Jesus whom she knows and loves. Mary’s instant reaction to Jesus is to reach out to him immediately. It shows not only does she feel great joy and happiness in this reunion with Jesus but also recovers the best version of who she is. But here’s the problem. Jesus stops her from holding onto him and says, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not ascended to the Father.” We might wonder if the risen Christ has gotten mean or if his personality has changed. Why so serious, Jesus?! Jesus indeed is serious in his encounter with Mary. Mary and Jesus may seem to be in the same time and the same space but that’s not the case. Mary sees Jesus as the one she has known before the resurrection. She clings to that relationship in the past and therefore to her old self. She is pinning Jesus to the past, heading to the past or good ol’ days that don't exist but only in her fabricated memory. The reality of the resurrection points her in a different direction. It’s not just the future she cannot foresee but again and again to the kingdom of God, that very presence of God dwelling in her that is deathless. Jesus’ desire not to be held onto is then his invitation to Mary that she is called to embody the presence of God. This spiritual and existential work of training and leading the mind by the breath of God entails the process of being continuously resurrected right here and right now. The presence of God constantly and sometimes gradually or radically changes who we can become wisely and skillfully. Now we can visualize Mary clinging to her past and craving to keep the version of herself that she reckons as best in that radical experience of conversion in her initial encounter with Jesus. She remains in the past while Jesus in front of her is not there. Jesus is transformed and transfigured. There’s no longer that Jesus she used to know but the reality of the resurrection that brings her back to the inner presence of God. They are not in the same place at the same time. Mary's initial desire to cling to the past contrasts with the reality of resurrection, which beckons her toward a new spiritual journey. The risen Christ symbolizes a continuous transformation, urging her to embrace the present and the divine presence within. This Sunday ends the season of Lent. We do this every year. Why? Are we just going through the motions because it’s just a built-in program in church? We go through this season to be resurrected here and now. Where do you see the risen Christ today? In the past or the future or right here, right now? To see the risen Christ, look within. Let the presence of the Spirit who is breathing through you change you, transform you, and resurrect you so that you’re no longer stuck in the past or scared for the future but keep yourself going without fear or anxiety but with the peace of the risen Christ. Don’t let any past pain, resentment, or rage hold onto you but say, “Don’t hold on to me, because I am always on my way ascending deeper to the inner presence of God.” Alleluia, Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia! How would you describe the resurrection to someone who has no Christian background? According to Jesus’ teaching this morning, the resurrection is not a complicated metaphysical concept that at times requires one to believe in supernatural phenomena and tends to be abstract if not absurd. Jesus’ language in general is poetic and filled with symbols, images, and analogies. It’s not scientifically informational. It is to inspire, motivate, and ultimately change people’s perspectives and the way to live their lives. It calls for a radical conversion of who to become and how to live skillfully. So, what is the resurrection? Is it supposed to be ineffable because human language fails to describe God’s mystery?
Well, Jesus doesn’t seem to think so in today’s gospel. The resurrection for him is essentially about how to be fruitful. The image of a grain of wheat falling into the earth, dying, and bearing much fruit shows what the resurrection is like. The resurrection directs one to the way to live our lives fruitfully to the fullest. Too simple to say that the resurrection is the grain of wheat that bears fruit? It certainly is, but simple doesn’t mean easy. (If we’re somehow resistant to Jesus’ simple yet uneasy description of the resurrection, then we want to ask ourselves what it is supposed to be like or how we’ve been told what it should be. We may want to unpack what others have told us what the resurrection should be like and differentiate it from Jesus’ symbol of the grain.) Let’s step back for a second and ask ourselves a fundamental question about life in general. What kind of life do we want to live? Deep down, we want a meaningful life that matters. I think it’s hard to deny that each one of us would like to live a “fruitful” life. For this reason, the resurrection is crucial to us Christians since it leads us to live fruitfully. Now, let’s reframe this theme of the resurrection in the context of Jesus’ good news which is the inner presence of God. There’s always consistency in Jesus’ teaching. How does the resurrection relate to the inner presence of God? The resurrection and God's inner presence are inseparable; they represent two sides of the same coin. The moment we become aware of God’s presence within our hearts, the process of the resurrection takes place. In God’s presence, we no longer remain as who we used to be. The breath we take in and out is perceived as the breath of God sustaining our lives. We become aware of God’s breath in our own breathing in and out. This natural physiological activity of inhaling and exhaling is transformed into that of God’s breathing into the mind and body. How we used to make sense of our breathing dies and resurrects as the Spirit works through and sustains us. In our encounter with God’s presence through solitude and quietude, we learn to “observe and watch” how we make of ourselves or are by default programmed to create our own images with narratives that are influenced by the external voices of others. Once we create that gap in ourselves between who we used to be and who we can become, the resurrection process begins. We can say no to our past self-images that lock us in. We start taking on new self-images rather skillfully. We take up the roles that are truly free in God’s presence. We can act selflessly, lovingly, and gracefully towards others and ourselves. The resurrection leads one to self-denial, not for the sake of self-hatred or for someone else in the name of sacrifice but for oneself that seeks ultimate freedom which eventually transforms oneself. This resurrection process sets us free and thus always fruitful. But again, the resurrection cannot happen without placing ourselves in the presence of God. We say God transforms us. This sentence is a sentence of mere words that do not mean much at all if it doesn’t come out of our personal experience of God’s inner presence. As long as we are in the presence of God, we do not need to be concerned with the resurrection because the moment we are present in God’s presence in our hearts, we are being reformed, transformed, and informed of who we can become skillfully and how we act skillfully. If I may use Jesus’ use of the grain symbol, we fall into the presence of God, die, and bear much fruit. Here’s a practical tip for this resurrection process to happen in our everyday lives. It’s mandatory that we take time to sit quietly to still the mind and body and comprehend what’s going on in the mind and body. In other words, this is to be in the presence of God and let God’s light shed light on the mind. Let the breath of God blow away all the dust off the mind so that we see its states and conditions. We want to see thoughts and feelings popping up and wandering around. The more we sit in solitude and quietude, the clearer we see the mind’s working. Outside this stilling prayer, watch out for those moments where we feel like defending or justifying ourselves from someone or situations. Keep alert when we say to ourselves, “I don’t deserve this. I did this for you. Why do I have to…” When “me” and “mine” show up, step back and notice in which narratives we’re describing our self-images. Change that narrative and ask, “What would be the skillful way of being me? What response would be most beneficial and wise that will give me long-term happiness?” This spiritual practice that is situated in our daily routine is how we center our lives on the presence of God rather than locking God’s presence in that 10-minute meditation or prayer time. The opening verse in today’s gospel lesson takes us back to the story from the Book of Numbers 21:4-9 in the Hebrew Bible. Poisonous snakes are sent to punish the Israelites as they grow impatient and regret their decision to follow Moses and leave Egypt. They’re in the wilderness, hungry, thirsty, and tired of manna. The act of God sending venomous snakes to punish them to death is far from the image of God who is love. Rather, it is how this tragic incident is made sense by the author of the Book of Numbers according to their perception of God. This interpretation isn’t unusual if we think of ourselves doing something similar. When something unfortunate happens, we might try to make sense of it and find reasons why. We might link this unfavorable outcome to our past shortcomings as though we’re being punished.
The most interesting thing about the story of poisonous snakes is how Moses resolves this issue. He makes a bronze snake and puts it on a pole. (Did you know that the flag of the World Health Organization (WHO) has the snake-entwined staff symbol in the center known as the Rod of Asclepius, the Greek god of healing?) Anyone gazing upon the bronze serpent is spared from the venomous bites. This method, in my interpretation, urges the Israelites to shift their focus from the perilous ground where serpents slither to the bronze serpent aloft on the pole. This conversion of looking is called for to save themselves from lethal snake bites. This is a life-or-death situation. Jesus appropriates this bronze serpent symbol and applies it to himself: "Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life." He becomes the serpent in the wilderness—not to be feared, but to be looked upon for salvation. The curative method remains consistent: whoever is elevated is to be earnestly observed. This necessitates a conversion of gaze—from the perilous ground to the elevated Savior. The call is clear: "Don't look downward, but look upward!" However, a crucial distinction arises. For us, it is not merely about looking up to Jesus on the cross, but looking through him and his teachings to discern the presence of God. The conversion of gaze evolves from looking upward to looking within. This introspective act becomes a conduit for experiencing and acknowledging the divine presence within ourselves. It instills in us confidence and conviction in Jesus' teachings about the kingdom of God. Rooted in this inner closeness to God that fosters unity, our confidence, conviction, trust, and faith in Jesus and his teachings deepen. This is the essence of "believing in Jesus"—not a mere adherence to a proposition, but an empirical connection that profoundly impacts our lives. Picture Jesus pointing to himself and proclaiming, "...whoever believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life." Let us not overlook the significance of this gesture. Let's delve deeper, connecting it to his revelation regarding the inner dwelling of God's presence. He doesn't point to himself but directs our attention inward—toward the inner light of God that is universally available. "The light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil." This light exposes our unwise actions, actions we may have been oblivious to. The contrast between light and darkness is about whether we’re skillful or unskillful in how we make of ourselves and how we respond to changing situations in life and dynamics in relationships. The action according to the light is always skillful, which leads us to long-term happiness. The action according to darkness is unskillful, which might make us happy but doesn’t last long. This unskillful result of unskillful actions for happiness enslaves us to seek more. But there’s nothing better unless the inner light of God is encountered. Stilling the mind and body in God’s presence is not for stress-reduction purposes. We don't engage in prayer and quiet reflection to merely inhabit the present moment. Instead, we immerse ourselves in the present to effect enduring change, leading us towards skillful behavior and genuine joy. Creating a gap between our entangled emotions and our observing presence allows the presence of God to fill that gap with discernment and peace. This is the transformative power of the light of God—turning our unwise actions into skillful ones. As we celebrate the resurrection today and are in the season of Lent, the gap we cultivate in God's presence becomes the birthing ground for our resurrected selves. This gap, affording us the time and space to become more skillful, guides us through Lent. Much like the cautionary phrase at London Underground stations, "Mind the gap," let us be mindful of and feel the gap within. “Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!” What provokes such a strong reaction from Jesus that he fashions a whip from cords, drives out the livestock merchants, and overturns the money changers' tables? Clearly, his ire is directed towards the merchants and money changers, but if we consider who permits their activities within the temple, his anger is aimed at the temple authorities. So, what triggers this anger? What disturbs Jesus so deeply? What does he perceive as unjust? What is his primary concern?
Throughout Jesus’ ministry, his focus remains steadfastly on the kingdom of God within. He is distressed to see the presence of merchants in the temple; but more so, he is incensed by the religious authorities erecting barriers between God and people instead of guiding and encouraging them to encounter God in their lives. People are taught that they must make sacrifices to experience God. God isn’t free. God is only available to those who can afford to purchase cattle, sheep, or doves. Who knows there’s a loan service certified by the temple authorities for those who don’t have money? This human-made barrier not only obstructs their path to God but also confines God within a physical space. This reality stands in stark opposition to the truth that Jesus presents to all. Against this misconception of God’s accessibility, he continues to assert his message: “The kingdom of God is within you.” In today’s gospel lesson, we witness his fervor for the presence of God in the most radical manner. He upends things in the temple, not only through his rather forceful actions but also through his words: “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” (This is his response to those demanding a sign from God, but who are really asking him to prove his authenticity as a messenger of God.) We know what his saying refers to: resurrection. But let’s make this three-dimensional. Imagine Jesus pointing to himself when he says “this temple.” This temple is his body where God dwells. This applies to us all. Our body is the temple where God dwells. What makes the body God’s temple is God’s presence within. This accessibility to God within is the core of Jesus’ teachings. We are thus the body of Christ. We believe God is present within us and all just as God is present in Christ. Now, there are two take-aways we can glean from today’s gospel reading that we can apply to our lives. The first is to celebrate the good news of Jesus on this day. God is within you, regardless of who you are, where you are, or how you are. Since every Sunday is the resurrection Sunday (hence not included in the 40 days of Lent), we find joy and peace, knowing that nothing can separate us from the love of God that connects us with the living and the dead. The second take-away from the reading is about examining and purifying our inner temple, which is a fitting spiritual practice during this Lenten season. What impedes your ability to be in God’s presence? Is it negative thoughts that breed anxiety and fear? Is it your image of God, which is subconsciously or unconsciously influenced by others rather than your own experiences and journey, shaped by the compassion and grace of God manifested through the kindness of people? If you identify any barriers, drive them away with a whip of trust and conviction in God’s faithfulness. If they intimidate you, overturn the table of worries, fears, and false narratives. Let’s keep our inner temple neat and clean so that we can dwell in the presence of God as the Psalmist sings, “One thing have I asked of the Lord; one thing I seek; that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life; to behold the fair beauty of the Lord and seek him in his temple.” (Psalm 27:5-6) The inner presence of God then becomes “more to be desired are they than gold, more than much fine gold, sweeter far than honey, than honey in the comb.” (Psalm 19:10) |
Paul"...life up your love to that cloud [of unknowing]...let God draw your love up to that cloud...through the help of his grace, to forget every other thing." Archives
January 2025
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