1 Samuel 16:1-13 🌿 Psalms 23 🌿 Ephesians 5:8-14 🌿 John 9:1-41
Lectio Divina:
Select a Scripture passage to reflect on
Read the passage, preferably out loud, two or three times
Meditate on a word or phrase that stood out to you as you read; Perhaps it caused you to ask a question or wonder about something.
Respond to God who has been speaking to you
Settle yourself and rest in the presence of God as you prepare to go about the remainder of your day.
It can be a very enlightening experience to engage in this practice with others, as no two people will have exactly the same experience or insights from their time reflecting on the same scripture passage.
The Romans text for today acknowledges experiences we will all have at one time or another in our earthly life. While we’ve been justified by faith, and know peace with God, we will still learn much through suffering, trials, and tension. We must choose to be peacemakers and live in hope of the realization of God’s perfect peace.
In the Romans passage, we hear of Abraham’s being saved by faith, not by works. In John, we witness a conversation between Nicodemus and Jesus. In both passages, the prevenient grace of God is on display as a testament to God’s initiation of a relationship with us – drawing humanity to Godself and through Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. All were set in motion before we were even aware of our need for salvation and reconciliation with God.
At first glance, the promise of “perfect peace” sounds like a hoax. In this world? Perfect peace? Perfect peace?
The doubling of the word “Shalom” (peace)– often translated as “perfect peace”– reminds me of other repetitions of that word: “They have healed the wound of my people lightly, saying “Peace, peace” when there is no peace” (Jeremiah 6:14).
Peace is a dirty word among many invested activists and marginalized people. “Peace” is the palatable, respectable, non-controversial sibling of edgy, angry, upturning justice. “Peace” is often co-opted to support status quo injustice, a human peace that does not and cannot last.
Joel 2:1-2, 12-17 🌿 Psalm 51:1-17 🌿 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10 🌿 Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
Homes with framed pictures of babies on the walls. Soft sandals by the door, a worn pencil on a desk. A bowl of dates on the counter, old love letters in a box under the bed. Ashes.
Lent is a season of transition. A time of reflection, examination, repentance, and confession. As we transition from the season of Lent to Easter we recognize this is not a time for simply turning from but also an act of turning toward. Turning from decay, injustice, and death to fruitfulness, justice, and abundant life. Reading Luke 24:1-12 we see in the story of Easter – everything changed.
That morning, the women went to the tomb, with spices as was the custom. Jesus had been crucified. Upon his death, the next task at hand was to turn toward his burial and all that needed to be done according to custom. During the course of the women’s actions to carry out their burial duties, they came upon the unexpected!
The stone had been rolled away and the tomb was empty except for the linen cloths that had been wrapped around Jesus. Terrified, grief-stricken, and perplexed they encounter “two men in dazzling clothes” who ask why they are looking for the living among the dead. The men told them Jesus was not there but had risen.
Upon the reminder of Jesus’ teaching, the women then turned toward home. They carried a secret that must be told! Instead of permitting their grief, doubt, and incomprehension to win, they turned in faith and ran toward the disciples to tell them about what they had learned.
Praise God for the faith of these women. In spite of all that they had endured, they trusted Jesus at his word and ran to share the good news. Turning toward belief and hope they hurried to share the good news.
Though not all the apostles believed the women’s word, some did. Peter – upon hearing the news – ran toward the tomb.
He ran to seek the truth, the man who denied knowing Jesus just days before RAN toward life and redemption. Amazed at what had happened, he returned home and I presume he shared the thrilling news with the others.
It is true, at times the path ahead may seem too daunting, peace, justice, and reconciliation inconceivable, or downright impossible, however, it’s never too late to move from a state of lament and grief to turn toward God, going out into all the world sharing the good news that Christ is risen from the grave and we are redeemed!
Hosanna!
What does this good news mean for our work in the Middle East? Daily we hear discouraging news of people suffering, violent conflicts, and ongoing hostilities. It is easy to be discouraged as we learn about ongoing challenges and realities in the Middle East. May the glorious news of this Easter morning remind us that desolation and despair are not the end of the story. Rather, Christ has triumphed over death. While we celebrate this spiritual victory, we also know brokenness in this world will not triumph.
This Easter we hold onto the hope that peace in the Middle East is possible, we turn toward God. Praying for equality where all people in the Middle East might have hope for a prosperous future.
May we turn toward the morning, the light of a new day. Praying for justice in which goodness and righteousness will prevail.
May we turn toward our neighbors, friends, and enemies and participate in sharing the good news. Praying for reconciliation and building relationships, holding tight to the gifts of redemption and reconciliation through the resurrection of Jesus the Christ.
As we turn toward God, may we be compelled to seek justice, righteousness, wholeness, and shalom in our lives, communities, the Middle East, and our world. May we turn toward peace where armed conflict will cease and violence will not be pursued as a means of rectification.
God, we rejoice in the wonder of your resurrection, O Christ, but then tend to sink back into our old ways of thinking, heaving, and responding to people’s needs. We can rejoice with the angels and all humankind on Easter Sunday, but the tumult and strife of the days following the Day of Resurrection cause us to slip back into apathy and despair. Forgive us when we so easily become distracted by our own cares and worries that we ignore the needs of others around us. Forgive us when we forget your power and love for us. May you remind us of your call and call us back toward you and your service. Give us a spirit for rejoicing, willing hears and hands for helping, and voices for praising you forever. Amen.
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Written by Rev. Aune M. Carlson, Director of Operations for CMEP. Aune earned her Masters of Divinity and Masters of Nonprofit Administration and graduate certificates from North Park Theological Seminary and School of Business and Nonprofit Administration. Ordained by The Evangelical Covenant Church (ECC).
Now there was a good and righteous man named Joseph, who, though a member of the council, had not agreed to their plan and action. He came from the Jewish town of Arimathea, and he was waiting expectantly for the kingdom of God. This man went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then he took it down, wrapped it in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid. It was the day of Preparation, and the sabbath was beginning. The women who had come with him from Galilee followed, and they saw the tomb and how his body was laid. Then they returned, and prepared spices and ointments. On the sabbath they rested according to the commandment. (Luke 23: 50-56)
Eight years ago today, I crammed my body into a crowded building filled with lit candles and singing and billowing incense. The faces of pilgrims and priests intermixed with those of saints in the form of icons watching over all who gathered to wait. And wait is what we did–hundreds of us curious souls–on the eve of Easter, in the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem.
Over the course of that night, I felt a strange calm sweep over me and a deep contentment inhabit my body. I had never experienced a collective ritual so magical, nor had I ever been more sure that I both knew exactly what I was waiting for and simultaneously hadn’t the slightest idea. This mystery is an element of a number of diverse Holy Saturday, or Saturday of Light, traditions which range from baptism renewal, to fasting and repentance, to a passing of Holy Fire.
This mystery is something we might resonate with as we reflect on a season of seeds planted, and dwell in the space of unknowing–that which is in between death and new life. Holy Saturday is an in-between time—a space that invokes pause, reflection, mourning, and dare I say, cultivating hope.
Church of the Holy Sepulcher, Holy Saturday 2013
In her book, Spirit and Trauma: A Theology of Remaining, Shelly Rambo writes of Holy Saturday as a “time of remaining,” a space where trauma dwells in the aftermath of death. Rambo insists that with the resurrection narrative, it is easy to “gloss over difficulty, casting it within a larger framework in which the new replaces the old, and in which good inevitably wins out over evil” (Rambo 2010, 6). Holy Saturday, for Rambo, is a space where the experience of death and trauma persists, where clear demarcations between death and life erode. Rambo’s concern regarding theological tendencies to approach suffering and trauma from a binary framework (i.e. death vs. life; good vs. evil; suffering vs. healed) adds important nuance to our Lenten reflections on working towards peace and justice in the Middle East.
In our work at Churches for Middle East Peace (CMEP), we are always navigating a Holy Saturday kind of tension. The realities of our partners and friends on the ground in the Middle East are all too often in “time of remaining”–in the wake of death and trauma. And we at CMEP join with our Muslim, Jewish, and Christian siblings in the Middle East in mourning, in prayer, in waiting. And we advocate for them—knowing that the space between tragedy and new life cannot be held alone.
Personally, I find reflecting in spaces of unknowing as a practice that is both challenging and nourishing to my faith. However, I know that dwelling in thoughtful tension is surely not a spiritual practice for everyone!
Nonetheless, I invite you to join me this Holy Saturday in waiting in the in-between space and perhaps imagining those whose daily realities might resemble that of Holy Saturday. Let us spend time in reflection or prayer about how we might better embrace the mangled relationship of death and hope in our peacebuilding and advocacy efforts, and better advocate for all lives in the Middle East.
Scripture does not reveal much about what might have occurred on the day between Jesus’ death and resurrection. While many who witnessed Christ’s crucifixion likely went home confused, scared, disappointed, or ashamed, it appears there were a few who were faithfully waiting, remaining. Joseph of Arimathea lovingly claimed and provided refuge for Christ’s brutalized body. The women who traveled with Jesus made preparations to properly bury his body. And then, it was the Sabbath. Before the women encountered Jesus alive in his own tomb and before the disciples met him on the road to Emmaus, there was a time in-between. And in that space of unknowing, trauma, and grief, they remained.
In our reflections, we might ask:
In our work towards peace and justice, what might it look like for us to embrace this road of uncertainty, one that very tangibly links death and the journey towards resurrection?
Could resurrection be something that is both waited for and cultivated?
Might we embrace such a mindset as we continue to walk alongside our siblings in the Middle East and advocate for justice and peace among them?
Holy Saturday is indeed a space of holy mystery. So too is the life and hope that are cultivated in its midst.
God of mystery, we lift up our hurting hearts to you. Fill us with your divine comfort. Waiting God, we are comforted in knowing that you are in the in-between space. Nourish us with your presence, and let us draw from you a radical hope to remain in the struggle for peace and justice in the Middle East.
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Jennifer Maidrand is the Outreach Manager for CMEP. She is a Ph.D. candidate in Bible and Cultures at Drew University, where she also earned her M.A. Her research focuses on how biblical interpretation and archeology have shaped the contemporary land of Palestine-Israel and its geo-politics. She is a member of the UCC Church and is committed to fostering interfaith and intercultural community education and dialogue around sacred texts, the earth, and politics. Jennifer is grateful to have the opportunity to utilize and grow these passions, previously as a fellow and now as a staff member with CMEP.
Cited Rambo, Shelly. Spirit and Trauma: A Theology of Remaining. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2010.
Good Friday: The Dark Night of the Soul Rev. Dr. Mae Elise Cannon
And when the sixth hour had come, there was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour. And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, “E′lo-i, E′lo-i, la′ma sabach-tha′ni?” which means, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” (Mark 15:33-34)
Today – Good Friday – marks the crucifixion of Christ. His brutal death included crying out to God and asking “why have you forsaken me?” After suffering the pain of crucifixion, the Gospel of John confirms Jesus’ last words, “It is finished” (19:30).
In Christian tradition, the three days between Maundy Thursday and Easter morning are known as the Triduum. Three days committed to prayer – a reminder to all that for a time darkness triumphed. The three days of Paschal Triduum are committed to prayer, a willingness to spiritually enter into the darkness, and reflection about the saving acts of grace extended to humanity through Christ’s death on the cross.
For many spiritual saints – this darkness – the finality of death and separation from God – can seem a regular part of religious life. St. John of the Cross wrote The Dark Night of the Soul about his own spiritual crisis and his experience of separation from God. The Christian world was rocked in 2003 when word began to circulate a few years after Mother Teresa’s death that she too had a dark night that lasted almost 50 years over the course of her ministry in Calcutta and around the world.
What might we have to learn from this darkness? Mother Teresa prayed that God would allow her to “drink from the chalice” of his pain in order to better understand his suffering. And yet her writings and letters found in Mother Teresa: Come Be My Light tell of how she cried out to God, “Father, I want to tell you how – how my soul longs for God – for him alone, how painful it is to be without Him.”
Some students and scholars of Mother Teresa assert that her great love and the power of her ministry were compelled by the struggles of her inner darkness. She entered into the most painful of earthly places and sought to bring refuge, comfort, and love. Many may not be familiar with Mother Teresa’s work in the Middle East in that regard.
In the middle of the Lebanese Civil War, in 1982, the Mother of the Calcutta slums went to Lebanon and rescued 100 orphans who were disabled and ill. Through prayer and determination, even in the midst of her own internal spiritual darkness, she was able to obtain a ceasefire and evacuate the children. In a conversation with a local priest in midst of the violence of the Lebanese Civil War, he exhorted her about how a rescue was not possible and this was her response:
“But Father, it is not an idea. I believe it is our duty. We must go and take the children one by one. Risking our lives is in the order of things. All for Jesus. All for Jesus. You see, I’ve always seen things in this light. A long time ago, when I picked up the first person (from a street in Calcutta), if I had not done it that first time, I would not have picked up 42,000 after that. One at a time, I think … “
Through prayer, faith, and negotiations led by Philip Habib, US Special Envoy to the Middle East sent by President Ronald Reagan, a ceasefire was brokered and 100 of Lebanon’s most vulnerable children were saved.
What might we learn from the darkness of Mother Teresa? Even in the midst of spiritual dryness, she continued to be faithful to the mission and God’s calling on her life. Her steadfast faithfulness and obedience in responding to the needs of the least of these never wavered in the darkness. This is my prayer for all of us at Churches for Middle East Peace (CMEP). Many times it feels like war rages all around us – from Ukraine to Syria. Humanitarian needs and economic devastation prevail from the streets of Lebanon to the shores of Gaza, to the famine in Yemen. We read about military campaigns and violence daily in the news coming out of the Middle East. In many ways, the world around us – including in the Middle East – is in the midst of a Dark Friday moment. Seemingly death has prevailed.
May we follow the lead of saints who have gone before us like Mother Teresa and maintain our steadfast commitment to doing good. Seeking out the presence of God even in the darkness where He cannot be found. May God go before us.
A prayer of Mother Teresa in the midst of the darkness:
I did not know that love could make one suffer so much… of pain human but caused by the divine. The more I want him, the less I am wanted. I want to love him as he has not been loved, and yet there is that separation, that terrible emptiness, that feeling of absence of God.
They say people in hell suffer eternal pain because of the loss of God… In my soul I feel just this terrible pain of loss, of God not wanting me, of God not being God, of God not really existing. That terrible longing keeps growing, and I feel as if something will break in me one day. Heaven from every side is closed.
I feel like refusing God.
Pray for me that I may not turn a Judas to Jesus in this painful darkness.
The Washing of Feet and the Gospel of Peace Kevin Vollrath
It was just before the Passover Festival. Jesus knew that the hour had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The evening meal was in progress, and the devil had already prompted Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot, to betray Jesus. Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him. John 13:1-17 (NIV)
Why feet?
Why not hands? A perfectly kind way and appropriate place to touch a friend. Pragmatic, too.
Why not faces? A gentle and intimate way to observe another’s visage.
The thought of few body parts other than feet evokes such vivid sensory memories for me. When I think of feet, I think of smells. Smells I’ve never smelt outside of locker rooms, shoe drives, and shoe stores. Nowadays many cover their feet with two layers of clothing– it may be that makes them smell worse than in Jesus’ time. Keeps the dirt off, and the smell in.
I know there’s something practical about washing feet that walk dirt roads. As Jesus put it, “A person who has had a bath needs only to wash their feet; their whole body is clean. And you are clean, though not every one of you.” I would hate to be the one who skipped a bath that day.
Why does Jesus choose something so banal to teach his disciples as one of his final teachings before being taken away? Weren’t they all gathering regularly before this, and wouldn’t he have had many opportunities to wash his disciples’ feet? Was he in the habit already and the other gospel writers just forgot to mention it?
I wonder if when Jesus washed those feet, he wasn’t thinking about the dirt or the potential smell. I wonder if he was thinking about more than the cultural role he performed. I wonder what feet meant to Jesus.
Today’s feet often symbolize dirtiness. Muslims often remove shoes before entering a home or mosque as a sign of respect and to preserve the space’s cleanliness. Footwashing is part of the pre-prayer ablutions/ ritual cleaning. The Prophet Mohammed (PBUH) reportedly said that cleanliness/ purity is half of faith. Throughout much of the Middle East, showing the soles of one’s feet can be offensive.
One foot connotation in the Hebrew scriptures is authority. The psalmist praises the Lord for making humans “rulers over the works of your hands; you put everything under their feet” (Ps 8:6); John also notes that “Jesus knew the Father had put all things under his power” (John 13:2). In illustrating the authority of the Messiah, Jesus quoted Psalm 110: “The Lord said to my Lord, sit at my right hand until I put your enemies under your feet.” (Matthew 22:44). The author of Ephesians echoes this connotation when describing Jesus’ authority: “God placed all things under his feet and appointed him to be head over everything for the church.” (Eph 1:22).
Jesus and his followers supplement another connotation for feet: peace. In sending out his disciples, Jesus instructs: “But when you enter a town and are not welcomed, go into its streets and say, ‘Even the dust that sticks to our feet we wipe off against you. Yet be sure of this: The Kingdom of God is near.’” (Luke 10:10-11). The letter to the Ephesians encourages believers to “stand firm… with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace.” (Eph 6:15).
In this foot-washing, Jesus showed his disciples the full extent of his love (John 13:1), and the scene appears to conclude with the words, “Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.” (John 13:17). Jesus sent his disciples with his authority to bring peace to the world.
At CMEP we try to walk in this authority, speaking out against injustices to people in positions of power. We believe peace can be achieved if it becomes the world’s top priority (that’s why we advocate). We believe local churches and their denominations are uniquely obliged to seek peace because of the vision of God’s Kingdom the Hebrew Scriptures declared and which Jesus continued teaching (that’s why we educate our partners and elevate the voices of those working towards peace).
In washing, Jesus fitted his disciples’ feet with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace, so they could continue to make level paths and bring peace wherever they went– wherever Jesus was to go next. He loved his disciples by commissioning them, letting them partake in the Kingdom of God, inviting them to join his lasting work. In this spirit, we pray these words from the Scriptures:
“How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, ‘Your God reigns!” (Isaiah 52:7)
May you also “burst into songs of joy together, you ruins of Jerusalem, for the Lord has comforted his people, he has redeemed Jerusalem” (Isaiah 52:9).May the peace that surpasses all understanding guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus as you declare Jerusalem’s redemption, even as we wait for its peace and redemption, “for the Lord will go before you, the God of Israel will be your rear guard” (Isaiah 52:12). Amen.
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Kevin Vollrath is CMEP’s Manager of Middle East Partnerships. Kevin is a Ph.D. candidate in Religion and Society at Princeton Theological Seminary, where he also earned an M.Div. His research focuses on the relationship between the Israeli occupation of Palestine and Palestinians with disabilities, and how the occupation produces disability. In joining CMEP, he is excited to complement his research with advocacy work.
Hope and Deliverance in Jesus’ Triumphal Entry Rev. Dr. Mae Elise Cannon
As he was now drawing near, at the descent of the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to rejoice and praise God with a loud voice for all the mighty works 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!”– Luke 19:37-38
Today the town of Bethany can be found on the eastern slopes of the Mount of Olives. The village, on the Palestinian side of the separation barrier, is known in Arabic as العيزرية or Al-ʿAyzariyyah – the place of Lazarus – for it is where Mary and Martha’s brother was raised from the dead by the person of Jesus. Today many aspects of the modern Palestinian village seem quite distant from the hope of resurrection. The streets are full of piles of refuse, burning garbage, and other signs of neglect because of a lack of services and infrastructure. Bethany is in Area C – a segment of the occupied Palestinian territories (oPt) under Israeli civil and security control. While Israel is responsible for civil services, few if any are provided.
Formerly a thriving East Jerusalem enclave, Bethany today is cut off economically, socially, and in many other ways from the hundreds of thousands of Palestinian residents of the city of Jerusalem. Once walkable, East Jerusalem schools and hospitals are now out of reach and unemployment has risen since the building of the wall in the early 2000s. Crime has also risen in the city because of a lack of government involvement and intervention. Bethany exists as a community increasingly desolate, suffering repercussions from the decades-long occupation of the Palestinian people.
What would the celebration of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem say to the residents of a community like Al-‘Ayzariyyah?
Jesus’ entry into the sacred city of Jerusalem on the back of a donkey did not represent the “triumphal entry” that many expected. Where was the strident warrior king who would lead the Jewish people to victory and deliverance? Rather this humble son of a carpenter chose the lowliest of animals upon which to make the declaration of his Messianic mission. Some studied witnesses of the event would have understood Jesus’ humble mode of transportation as a fulfillment of the prophecy of Zechariah: “Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion! … Lo, your king comes to you; triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey…” (9:9).
Jesus met people during his day in the midst of their circumstances. He responded to Mary and Martha when they let him know of Lazarus’ illness by saying, “This illness is not unto death; it is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified by means of it” (John 11:4). Later Christ wept at the hearing of Lazarus’ death… only then to redefine reality and bring his friend back to life (John 11:35).
Similarly, the purpose of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem celebrated on Palm Sunday symbolizes the declaration of him as the Messiah. The triumphal entry marks the momentous occasion where Jesus was acknowledged as the “King” of the Jews who came “in the name of the Lord” (Luke 19:38). While the people continued to expect a military victory over their oppressors, instead Jesus’ entry marked the beginning of the Passion of Christ – his suffering, death, and resurrection – that is celebrated during Holy Week.
This year as we wave our olive branches in church and remember Jesus’ journey down the Mount of Olives – may we hold in our hearts the people who live in that community today – including the Palestinian residents of Bethany living under occupation. Hope in Jesus’ day did not come the way that people expected. Rather God’s goodness and mercy were revealed in the humblest of circumstances.
Through Jesus, hope and deliverance prevailed.
May this be our prayer as we together pursue peace and justice in the Middle East.
Humble, Lord Jesus. Peace in heaven and glory to the highest. You are worthy of all praise and honor. You are the God of empathy and love. You are the God of comfort and joy. You are the God of peace and justice. As we worship you on this commemoration of your triumphal entry, be with those who have yet to experience relief from their earthly suffering. Come alongside those who live in isolation and difficult circumstances. Bring your hope and deliverance to all people. In the name of Christ. Amen.
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Rev. Dr. Mae Elise Cannon is the executive director of Churches for Middle East Peace and an ordained pastor in the Evangelical Covenant Church (ECC). Cannon formerly served as the senior director of Advocacy and Outreach for World Vision U.S. on Capitol Hill in Washington, DC; as a consultant to the Middle East for child advocacy issues for Compassion International in Jerusalem; as the executive pastor of Hillside Covenant Church located in Walnut Creek, California; and as director of development and transformation for extension ministries at Willow Creek Community Church in Barrington, Illinois. Cannon holds an MDiv from North Park Theological Seminary, an MBA from North Park University’s School of Business and Nonprofit Management, and an MA in bioethics from Trinity International University. She received her first doctorate in American History with a minor in Middle Eastern studies at the University of California (Davis) focusing on the history of the American Protestant church in Israel and Palestine and her second doctorate in Ministry in Spiritual Formation from Northern Theological Seminary. She is the author of several books including the award-winning Social Justice Handbook: Small Steps for a Better World and editor of A Land Full of God: Christian Perspectives on the Holy Land. Her work has been highlighted in The New York Times, The Washington Post, CNN, Chicago Tribune, Christianity Today, Leadership Magazine, The Christian Post, Jerusalem Post, EU Parliament Magazine, Huffington Post, and other international media outlets.
