This past week, there was a tragic incident in Paris. The iconic spire at the top of Notre Dame Cathedral was burnt down. What was it like for you to see it collapsing? Have you been to the cathedral? As a person who hasn’t been there yet, at first it was quite hard for me personally connecting with the place though in my head I knew I was supposed to say and be disappointed and saddened by the loss of this historic church. I could very well think about feeling sad about this tragedy but was not able to empathize with those who really felt sad and upset.
But I realized this thought of mine wasn’t too considerate and well-reflected after the conversation I had with my priest colleague. She told me a story about her friend who grew up in a poor neighborhood in Pennsylvania. In this town, most of the residents were coal miners. You can imagine that rural area was impoverished and unlovely. In this town, however, there was this beautiful church that didn’t actually fit in that surrounding. How was it possible that there was this magnificent and gothic looking parish in that poor neighborhood? Of course, the diocese didn’t pay to construct it. The church’s parishioners built it with their own financial resources for decades. You might think that a blood sucking priest must’ve forced these poor people to offer more money to the church. But this was done voluntarily. So, my friend asked her friend why. Why would these poor miners do such a thing? My priest colleague’s friend answered, “There was nothing beautiful in my house and others’ houses as well as our entire town. The church was the only beauty that we had and could have.” For them, the church was their only beauty which was theirs and to which they belonged. (I think this applies to us. Who has stained glass windows at home?) Paris is like New York City where the homeless and the poor are commonly seen and often neglected. I imagine for them Notre Dame Cathedral was like this beautiful church as it was for the miners in Pennsylvania. The cathedral may have been the only beauty that they can have. It may have been their spiritual home where they could sleep, rest, pray, and feel loved by God. For them, it is not that a historic site that tourists stop by is gone, but the place of worship and love. And the collapse of the top of Notre Dame Cathedral, the collapse of the only beauty that they can have must’ve broken their hearts. What is the beauty that you have in your heart? What is that place of beauty you belong to? And who is that someone that reminds you of the beauty of your life? Who is that person that can tell you that you’re loved, cared, and good enough as you are? The death of Jesus for the women at the tomb in the gospel lesson that we hear this Easter Sunday morning is the collapse of the beauty that they found in Jesus. He is for them the only beauty, the only hope, the goodness and love of God that they ever experienced in their lives. They talked together with Jesus, walked together, shared meals together, and decided to commit their whole lives to him, for they were forgiven, healed, accepted, and loved by that divine beauty incarnate. And that only beauty is now gone. He is unfairly and falsely executed, crucified, and died. Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women are grieving for this loss of the only beauty they ever had. Jesus is no longer with them but his corpse is laid in the tomb. They cannot yet let go of him, trying to hold every bit of traces of his presence. So they come to his tomb. But they find something is wrong. The stone that is supposed to close the tomb is rolled away. Someone must have done this and entered the tomb. The women go in and find the body of their lost beauty is gone. Before they’re about to get upset over the missing of the body, they see two strangers in dazzling clothes. They’re terrified, not even able to look up to their faces. Imagine you see someone in the tomb. For me, entering into the tomb is already horrifying but seeing someone in there can cause a heart attack. Fortunately, these are not just random strangers or thieves who stole Jesus’s body. They are messengers to tell them something that Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and other women completely forgot. These messengers in dazzling clothes, which we can call them angels (which literally means a messenger), are not telling them some new information about Jesus. The angels are there to remind them of Jesus’s saying. So they tell them, "Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you…” I’m troubled with their saying of “Remember how he told you.” It’s not “Remember what he told you.” This may be a strange translation of the Greek term ὡς (hōs) which can also mean “as.” But this is something that we can reflect on. “How” is more of a manner or a way things are done. So, remembering how Jesus told them about his death, crucifixion, and resurrection is to remember the way he told them. What way did he tell them to remember about his death, crucifixion, and resurrection? Every Sunday, we hear the saying of Jesus to remember at the Eucharist. “Do this in remembrance of me.” This can simply mean, “Do this act of the Eucharist when you gather together to remember me, to invoke my presence.” This is the way he taught his disciples how to remember. And this is the way he taught us how to remember Jesus’s death and resurrection. For the women at Jesus’s tomb, his death is the collapse of the only beauty they have had. The empty tomb for them, when they first saw the angels, is not the sign of the resurrection, but of another loss. Yet, they are told to remember Jesus is risen. The tomb is empty, and it is no longer a tomb but becomes the altar where Jesus is present, not just to Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James and other women but also to us and therefore to the entire world. In our lives, we experience the collapse of the beauty, significant losses of those in whom we find beauty, love, and compassion. The collapse of Notre Dame Cathedral is a recent example of this loss for many in the world, especially the poor, the homeless, and the lost. Yet, for us Christians, this collapse or loss is not the end of the story. Archbishop of Paris, Michel Aupetit’s saying reminds us of this new reality that God has created through the crucified and risen Christ. He says regarding Notre Dame Cathedral, “Why was this beauty built? What jewel was this case meant to contain? Not the Crown of Thorns … but a piece of bread that we believe is the Body of Christ.” (http://www.ncregister.com/daily-news/a-sign-of-gods-presence) So today, on this Easter Sunday, we are here to celebrate God’s new creation, new reality, new life in the resurrection of Jesus and to meet him. As we look at the altar, we see the empty tomb. In that empty tomb, on that altar, the crucified and risen Christ is present to us and to the world. And this Jesus that we cannot visibly see with our eyes yet partake of his body and blood in our souls and bodies is risen once for all in all our losses, collapses, pains, and sufferings where death seems to prevail. Partaking of Jesus’s body and blood is not only how we remember his death and resurrection but also how we become part of him, how we become his body and blood for the life of the world. May all of you see Jesus Christ, especially in times and places where you feel let down, alone, isolated, and hurt. Whatever beauty we think we lost is never lost in his resurrection. My friends, Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia! In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. I have been a Christian for quite awhile and have noticed that we Christians tend to like certain days other than Christmas and Easter. So, I’m claiming that we not only have a “Christian-and-Easter Christian” but also an “A&P Christian.” What does this A&P stand for if not originally Atlantic & Pacific Tea Company? Can anybody guess what A and P stand for? A is for Ash Wednesday, and P is for Palm Sunday. Ash Wednesday has become popular, which I think has to do with our Episcopal initiative of “Ashes-to-Go.” Especially in the hospital where I work, everyone loves getting their forehead imposed with ashes. What about Palm Sunday? Don’t we all like to get some palm branches, especially palm crosses? Most of Christians seem to like ashes and palm branches quite a lot in my limited experiences.
At the same time, it may be quite unfortunate if only ashes are remembered on Ash Wednesday. And it would be equally unfortunate if only palm branches are remembered on Palm Sunday. What I mean by this is that Ash Wednesday is meaningful and hopeful solely because of the resurrection of Jesus. Hearing our very mortal nature as ashes are imposed on our foreheads, “Remember that you’re dust, to dust you shall return.” has no Christian value in and of itself. This remembrance of our human limitedness and finitude can be hopeful only when it is promised with the resurrection. Simply put, ashes are meaningful only through the Eucharist. This same logic applies to Palm Sunday. The palm branch was a Jewish symbol of triumph and victory. This is why the people in the gospel lesson which we heard outside wave to Jesus with them. They want a political and religious savior who can liberate them from the Roman Empire. In the very moment of Jesus’s entry into Jerusalem, these people expect a victory, not just Jesus’s victory but their own. Yet, this same group of people becomes the crucifying voice that pushes Pilate to hang their failed messiah on the cross. As we process from outside into the sanctuary, holding the palm branches in our hands, we are not uncritically mimicking the crowds in the gospel. Our waving of the palm branches finds its reason in the victory of the crucified and risen Christ who defeats death. Palm branches for us Christians can become a symbol of victory and triumph only through the crucifixion and resurrection in which we sacramentally experience as we partake of the body and blood of Jesus. So, palm branches and passion must go hand in hand. Jesus’s Passion is what makes palm branches meaningful. And let’s not forget that this Sunday has two names, Palm Sunday and Passion Sunday. Perhaps, it may be more fitting to put these two names of this Sunday together as Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion. Now, what we want to focus is Jesus’s Passion for its name’s sake. The road to Jerusalem is his way to the Passion. This word, ‘passion’ is quite a strange one. In our everyday language, ‘passion’ is often used as to express one’s strong emotion towards certain things. We might say, ‘Fred’s passion for his life is a Harley Davidson motorcycle, particularly the 1920 8-Valve Racer!’ Or ‘Fred is really passionate about singing.’ But in terms of Jesus’s Passion, it doesn’t share the same meaning. If we say Jesus is passionate about the Passion, this simply means he is passionate about his suffering and death. I seriously doubt that he is. This Passion finds its origin in the Latin term pati or passio, which means to suffer. Jesus’s triumphant entry to Jerusalem is then his entry to his suffering and death, the Passion. In today’s gospel lesson, we hear how Jesus suffers in multiple layers. When we think about his Passion, we might limit his suffering to the physical ones in which he was spat upon, whipped, naked, and nailed. Yet, this is not all. What makes his suffering relevant and meaningful to us is not so much about how hurt he was physically. There are tons of people who suffered and died way worse than Jesus did. What makes his suffering, his Passion truly matter to us is in his suffering God shows and affirms his whole involvement in every bit of our lives, in our society, and in our world. God himself walks into the very human suffering in Jesus of Nazareth. God assures us through Jesus that he is neither absent in the suffering of the world nor stays outside but is in it and suffers himself. I wonder what kind of suffering is most unbearable for us. Physical pain can become one’s suffering, especially the pain that leads one to death. What about emotional and spiritual pain? What about the experience of feeling betrayed and abandoned by those you trust, disliked, avoided, ignored, and hated by them? In the healthcare setting, especially in the field of hospice, there was this study to figure out how to measure one’s spiritual pain. They suggested this method of the AAA. The first A is about being abandoned. When one feels and is abandoned, there’s great spiritual pain. The second is about abandoning. When one abandons others, there’s also spiritual pain on the abandoning one. The last A is aloneness. This is more of being isolated and lonely. In Jesus’s Passion, he experiences all three, and probably more than three. He is abandoned and betrayed by the crowds who once waved the palm branches, praising him, “Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!” and now viciously shouting at him, “Crucify, crucify him!” Their voices crucify his soul even before Pilate orders his soldiers to crucify his body. And he is left alone on the cross to death. He sees how yesterday’s friend becomes today’s enemy. His followers become his murderers. Only the women are the ones who weep and lament for his Passion. Not being able to be with them would be for him unwillingly and painfully abandoning them. Jesus’s Passion is God’s way of communicating to us how God himself suffers and suffers with those who suffer. And compassion is another term to reflect on. Compassion with the prefix com-, meaning with, is literally to suffer with. Unless one is sociopathic, we have this compassion. We empathize with those who are going through struggles and challenges. Yet, God’s compassion is not like ours. Whereas we cannot fully suffer with others, which is why I can never say “I understand your suffering” because I can’t and don’t even though I want to, with God’s compassion, God can fully know your suffering because God is closer to you than you are to yourself. God’s compassion is perfect in the sense that God knows exactly how much you suffer. My friends, Passion Sunday which we celebrate today is not so much about commemorating and being sad about Jesus’s Passion. (As well as not so much about getting the palm branches.) Passion Sunday is for us to see Jesus coming into our Passion, our suffering. He reveals the divine compassion incarnate in our Passion through his Passion. For this reason, we know God is love. And this love of Jesus reaches out even to those who abandon, hate, and murder him. Facing the crucifying world, Jesus prays, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” Jesus never ceases to be unconditionally loving and forgiving all those involved in his way to the Passion. As we’re embarking on this journey of Holy Week, let us remember two things. One is, through Jesus’s Passion, let us see his divine compassion in our own Passion. Let us see God fully and perfectly being present, suffering in and with us in our lives. The other is that we carry this divine compassion of Jesus with us. Be compassionate to yourself because God is unceasingly compassionate to you. And be compassionate to others to share the divine compassion which you have received. May the Passion and Compassion of Jesus Christ awaken your souls and bodies to be passionate for his love and compassionate to yourselves and others deeper and deeper in this Holy Week. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. As I reflect on today’s gospel lesson, it seems a man’s tendency to comment or explain something to women in a rather condescending way has been at least 2,000 years old. This tendency nowadays is called ‘mansplaining,’ which was one of the New York Times’ Words of the Year in 2010. We hear Judas indirectly mansplaining to Mary and directly complaining to Jesus about her anointing of Jesus’ feet with this attitude of know-it-all.
At the same time, Judas’s perspective on how to spend money more wisely is worth listening regardless of his true intention. Even though St John says Judas has no heart for the poor because he is a thief, spending money for the poor rather than buying a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard and wasting it over Jesus’s feet sounds more Christian. Let us not forget Jesus’s own words, “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.” Also, Judas’s way of utilizing our resources represents our prevalent ethics of utilitarianism which considers the greatest happiness of the greatest number as something good. But let us keep in mind that this context in which Jesus and Mary of Bethany interact so lovingly isn’t so much about how to spend money more wisely. Today’s gospel lesson should be read more as a love poem not as a financial advisory lesson. I am quite guilty of treating things in a practical and utilitarian manner. For example, I like plants more than flowers. Why? Because it lasts longer than flowers. Plants are sort of like an investment with benefits of reducing carbon dioxide and airborne dust levels and increasing humidity. Yet, my wife loves flowers over plants. Well, she doesn’t just love flowers. She likes receiving flowers from me. Her preference for flowers over plants did change the way I thought about flowers. They are beautiful. They don’t last long. And it doesn’t matter as long as I’m getting for someone I deeply care about. You’ve probably done things that you wouldn't do for yourself but for others out of love. You wouldn’t buy a toy that is so overpriced for yourself but happily so for your children or grandchildren. You wouldn’t get something uselessly luxurious for yourself but for someone you care because of your love for that person. This behavior is obviously far from being financially reasonable or the utilitarian way of spending money. Why get a useless toy that has no profit producing investment instead of depositing that money into that kid’s savings account? But as human beings we do these things when we are in love. Love moves our hearts to do things that require our sacrifice which we believe to be worth doing for our loved ones. Mary's decision to anoint Jesus’s feet with a costly perfume is just like this love-driven act that is voluntary and volitional. Her pouring of the perfume is reckless, wasteful, and extravagant, yet expresses her love for Jesus. Now, does this abundant and extravagant pouring of love remind you of the prodigal father from last Sunday’s gospel lesson? The father who celebrates his younger son’s return behaves not in the way of what his younger son deserves in our perspective but solely in the way of love. This prodigal father’s act of love for the younger son is shown in the act of Mary. Yet, there’s a difference between them. While they both show their extravagant and abundant love in common, Mary’s anointing of Jesus’s feet is her response to that unconditional love she experienced from Jesus. It may be easier if you imagine Jesus being the prodigal father and Mary the younger son. Now back to today’s gospel story, Mary is like the younger son who shows his love to his father. The son learns and mimics the way his prodigal father loves. As the father runs to him, hugs him, kisses him, and celebrates his return, the son washes and anoints the father’s feet that get dirty from running so recklessly out of joy and love. St Paul in our second lesson confesses that he regards everything, literally everything in this world such as honor, respect, fame, wealth, and even health as “rubbish” because of Jesus. This is not some kind of dogmatic manifesto of some fanatic but the confession of love to Jesus. Because St Paul too received that love from Jesus. One of the most valuable human behaviors is that we learn. Mary learns from Jesus what it’s like to be loved and loving. Jesus also learns from Mary’s footwashing practice that he does for his disciples. In this unconditional and extravagant love Jesus shows to all, Mary does what she can. And it seems she may have been one of the few disciples who actually listened attentively enough to Jesus’s foretelling of his death and resurrection. She must have kept all the things Jesus said in her heart. She must have known there was no way of stopping Jesus from dying and following God’s will. On his way to death in Jerusalem, Mary may have found the way to show her love for Jesus, which is to be on the same path as Jesus. It is to help him prepare his way to the crucifixion and resurrection. It seems she followed the Jewish funerary custom. Which is that the body is “...cleaned, purified and anointed with water and oil, and sprinkled with perfume in preparation for burial before being wrapped in shrouds.” (The Tome of Jesus and His Family?, James H. Charlesworth, p. 86) Mary truly listens and does what Jesus desires before his burial out of love. Judas, on the other hand, is just like the older son in the parable of the prodigal father. He is frustrated with Jesus and Mary. Because not only Mary is wasting all that expensive perfume which should not even be purchased, but also Mary is taking Jesus’s saying of his death in Jerusalem too seriously. In order for Jesus to be Judas’s ideal messiah, Jesus shouldn’t die but liberate the Israelites from the Roman Empire’s colonization and should rule the world. But deep down, what’s really at stake is his refusal to receive the unconditional love of God that Jesus manifests in his ministry. Judas is one of the twelve disciples who eat, sleep, and journey together with Jesus. He has seen what Jesus has done for people. He has witnessed the love that changes people. But he just wouldn’t accept that love which is available to him. In his utilitarian remarks on how Mary ought to spend money, Judas shows his frustration and dissatisfaction with Jesus whose love transforms people, with the love that he chooses not to accept. We have about two weeks left until our Easter season. How is your Lenten season going? I wouldn’t ask you whether you’re keeping well with what you have decided to give up. I wouldn’t ask you whether you have examined your shortcomings thoroughly. I wouldn’t even ask you whether you’ve been mindful of this Lenten season. But I do want to ask you whether you are willing to change your understanding of God who is so in love with you just like the prodigal father with extravagant and abundant love. If you are able to see God as the prodigal father who is helplessly in love with you, can you see yourself in Mary who takes a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anoints Jesus' feet, and wipes them with her hair out of love? I would like each one of you to be able to see how Mary is able to be so loving to Jesus like the prodigal father and how you can be Mary in this world. My friends, we all know our world is driven by the free market ethos. We know what that does to all of us. I am quite skeptical if politicians can transform things even though they are able to bring positive changes. But in order to see God’s transformation in this world, the Church’s role is more than crucial. We must seriously reflect on St John Chrysostom’s saying that the Church is wider than the world. The Church must see things differently and calculate what’s worth spending differently than the world. The Church’s way of calculating love is extravagant, abundant, and sometimes seemingly wasteful and reckless. May God give us the courage to be holy fools for Jesus with enough foolishness to believe we can actually make a difference in the world for the poor. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. |
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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