chappelltemple

I realize, of course, that I’m not really a year older today than I was yesterday…just a few hours, in fact. Yet somehow, whenever you cross into a new decade of your life, it seems a little weightier. Especially when that passage takes you from your fifties into your sixties.

Oh, the truth is, I never was all that keen on being fifty either, which may account for why I generally tried to tell folks that I was only forty-nineteen for the last twelve months. But “sixty” sounds so much like my grandfather, which, of course, now I am as well. The problem is I still feel like I’m thirty-five, despite the frequent Defcon 1 alerts which my body keeps trying to send me.

In the end, however, the truth is that our days– however long or short–are always in the Lord’s hands and so we can trust Him with them. And there are countless examples of those who have somehow managed to make a difference despite the impediment of no longer being “young and cool.”

At the age of sixty, the writer George Bernard Shaw finished the play that many regard as his masterpiece, “Heartbreak House.” Likewise, the Italian sculptor, painter, and architect Gianni Lorenzo Bernini didn’t even start designing churches until he reached his sixtieth year.

At 61, physician, author and running enthusiast George Sheehan ran his fastest Boston marathon ever, drawing his inspiration from an early church father Ireneus who once wrote that “The glory of God is man fully functioning.”

At 62, J.R.R. Tolkien published the first volume of his famed trilogy, Lord of the Rings and at 63, Jonathan Swift wrote A Modest Proposal, possibly the best satire ever composed in the English language.

And skipping even further ahead, Ronald Wilson Reagan became the oldest person ever sworn in as President of the United States when he was 69 (though who knows what Hillary may do), the same age at which Werner Berger became the oldest North American to scale the highest peaks on each of the world’s seven continents, just after he proposed to his girlfriend, that is.

In short, as George Sheehan observed, “Man at any age is still the marvel of the universe.” Maybe the psalmist was right in his prayer thus: “Lord, teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.” (Psalm 90.12)

And just in case you can’t do the math, that would make this day number 21,915 for me…and counting.

His critics thought it was all over. The show had closed, the curtain (though torn in two somehow) had fallen, and the reviews were in: Jesus was a fraud, but fortunately He had been taken care of the day before and was no longer going to be around to raise hell.

Oddly enough, however, that’s precisely what Jesus may have been doing on the Saturday that followed Good Friday. For though none of the gospel accounts tell us just what happened on this otherwise quiet day, passages elsewhere in the scriptures give us hints of a rather extraordinary journey which took place in between the crucifixion and the resurrection.

Ephesians 4.9 suggests that Jesus descended into the depths of the earth to bring back the imprisoned souls who were there. Similarly, the psalmist also foresaw that God would one day take the captives on high (Psalm 68.18), just as Acts 2.30 consequently assures us that David was not abandoned to the realm of the dead either, despite having lived centuries before Jesus ever came onto the scene.

It is Peter, however, who specifically tells us that the Lord was put to death in the body but made alive in the Spirit, “through whom also he went and preached to the spirits in prison, who disobeyed long ago” (1 Peter 3.19-20). And so accordingly, we proclaim it in the Apostles’ Creed: “He was crucified, dead and buried…He descended into Hell… the third day He rose again from the dead.”

Oh, some still find that singular clause in the creed to be troublesome, I understand. And to be sure, whenever we try to nail down a particular time sequence with the Timeless One, there’s bound to be some issues. For in truth, our linear understandings of time—yesterday, today, and forever—are not binding at all upon the God who created the whole idea itself.

Still, I can’t help but sense that there is something very right about the notion of Jesus busting into Hell and setting all kind of captives free. For it tells me that Jesus really did come for all, even those who never knew Him on this earth, and that if not even His borrowed grave could hold back the power of God, our graves may not be able to do so either.

All of which is perhaps why over the centuries Holy Saturday has traditionally been a time in the church for baptisms and for the final stages of instruction for all new believers who will profess their faith publicly on Easter Sunday.

Maybe it’s a good time therefore for those of us who were long ago baptized to likewise renounce the devil and all his pomp. For if we can but decide to resist the devil, we’ve been assured that he will flee from us.

After all, Holy Saturday reminds us that not even the “gates of the deepest darkness” (Job 38.17) can hold back the Son of God when He’s ready to set you free.

You have to wonder what’s so good about it anyway. For it was on this day, long before the sun had even arisen, that Jesus found Himself hauled before a kangaroo court that had already convicted Him, despite being unable to come up with any even false evidence that they could actually use against him.

Likewise, it was on this day that his accusers were so anxious to be rid of Jesus that they couldn’t even wait for the Roman governor to finish his breakfast before they hauled their prisoner over to the place where Pilate was staying, making one wild accusation after another against their fellow Jew to the Gentile representative of the occupying foreign power.

And though Pilate seemed singularly unconvinced about their charges, he was an astute enough politician to know when it’s better to go along with the crowd which had clearly been whipped into frenzy by the Jewish authorities. And so the governor allowed some whipping of his own, ordering his soldiers to strip the prisoner of every last vestige of His humanity and dignity.

Then when even that wasn’t enough to satisfy the blood thirst of the accusers of Jesus, Pilate finally gave in and ordered that the prisoner be executed. They dragged Him through the streets of Jerusalem to get to a hillside just outside the city walls, conscripting a passer-by named Simon on the way to help carry the wooden beam that was to be His final pulpit, and then Jesus Himself was hoisted up on that splinter-filled saber where He hung for three hours as His life was literally being poured out.

The crowds came by, hurling their taunts and insults. “He saved others,” they said, “but he can’t save himself.” “He trusts in God, so let God rescue him now if He wants him.” And all the while the life spirit of Jesus continued to be siphoned out, not only from the physical excruciation of crucifixion, but from the sheer agony of abandonment as well.

“My God, my God,” He called out, somehow remembering even in the fog of His frailty the ancient words of the psalmist, “why have you forsaken me?”

Until at last it was finished and He gave up His spirit.

But it was at that precise moment that something rather incredible happened, as well. For as the gospel account tells us, not only was the curtain in the Temple torn in two from top to bottom, but the earth shook, the rocks split, and the nearby tombs broke open, releasing many holy people who had died to come out and be raised to life once more.

No wonder a Roman guard who was standing nearby, though clearly terrified, understood what all of the religious and political authorities in Jerusalem had failed to grasp: “Surely this was the Son of God.”

And because He was, that’s what was good about this day. For on a bleak hillside long ago and far away, this day became “God’s Friday,” an unparalleled hinge point in history when the tide began to turn and in the meanest of circumstances, hope found a crevice from which to creep back into our lives.

Today is a time for remembering just what Christ did so long ago and why it matters. So let the reality of the events of this day become intensely personal for you once more. Do not allow these hours to go by without stopping to offer a prayer of fervent thanksgiving for the gift of your salvation. Go to the cross at least sometime this day and contemplate what really happened there.

For as bad as it was, it was a Good Friday for us indeed.

If you knew you were going to be arrested tonight and probably executed tomorrow… how would you spend today? For that’s exactly the situation that confronted Jesus on this Passover Eve long ago when He gathered His little band of followers together to celebrate that ancient festival of deliverance.

Would you try to get away from those looking for you before they could do you harm? Go on the lam and escape? For indeed, from the Garden of Gethsemane, all Jesus had to do was to hike half an hour or so up the Mount of Olives, go over the ridge and then disappear into the Judean wilderness where they could never find Him.

Would you instead begin to prepare a defense for the trial which was coming? Maybe gather up documents to support your case, find some corroborating evidence, round up some witnesses, and hire the best attorney you could find, if nothing else, just to slow the whole process down until you could begin to figure it all out?

Or would you simply try to spend some meaningful time with your friends and family while you still could? Share in a holiday meal just as you might have done many times before? Let them know what they meant to you?

In the case of Jesus, that’s precisely what He did. For let’s be clear about it: Jesus knew exactly what was about to happen in His life. He knew what was in the heart of his betrayer and in the muddled minds of even His closest friends like Peter. He knew that very soon He would be returning to God. But He also knew that He had come from God and that the Father had put all things under His power.

And so, “having loved His own who were in the world, He now showed them the full extent of His love,” as John 13.1 reminds us. Before they had even finished eating the evening meal, in fact, Jesus got up, took off His cloak, wrapped a towel around His waist, and began to wash His disciples’ feet.

They protested, of course, for washing the feet of someone else was not only a dirty job for the lowest of servants in a household, but it seemed particularly inappropriate for a teacher like Jesus to do for His students. But the Master– who understood so profoundly the paradoxical power of serving others– went right ahead, setting before them an example that they could never forget.

Years later, in fact, His followers still talked about not only His example but the new commandment that He also gave them that night–that they love one another even as He had loved them. And that “new commandment” (or as it is translated into Latin, the novum mandatum) is what has given this day—Maundy Thursday—it’s name.

To put it another way, Jesus spent the last full day of His life crafting His final lesson for those who had known Him, which was purely and simply that we love one another.

Even if we disagree, or we’ve been disappointed by someone else.

Even if they don’t share our faith or fit into our fellowship.

For if we love one another, so Jesus said, all will know that we really are His disciples.

I wonder if today might not be an excellent time indeed to put that ancient new mandatum into practice.

No one knows exactly what happened on this day, but some have called it “The Day of Silence.” For following his earlier somewhat volatile encounters in the Temple, on the Wednesday of that pivotal Passover week long ago it is thought that Jesus retreated to the little village of Bethany on the Mount of Olives, where He often liked to stay with his dear friends, Mary, Martha and their brother, the not-so-late Lazarus.

Back in the city itself, three of the evangelists—Matthew, Mark, and Luke—all tell us that the chief priests and teachers of the Law were busy plotting how to arrest the Teacher, looking for some “sly” or deceitful way for how to get rid of him and kill him, only quietly so that the crowds which had come to Jerusalem for the Feast may not erupt into a riot.

But Jesus stayed home, and we can only imagine what His thoughts must have been as He surely knew that the hour of His death was coming closer. Was He afraid for what was about to happen? Concerned for those who had followed Him? Anxious that the heavenly plan might somehow go awry? Or was He content to simply spend the day with His Father in quiet reflection and prayer? For I rather suspect that Jesus was a whole lot more comfortable with holy silence than most of us usually are.

The evening arrived, and with it an invitation to a dinner given in his honor at the house of Simon the Leper, an individual whom we can easily envision did not entertain all that much at all, given the pariah status in that society which his name would imply.

Nonetheless, it was there at that dinner that a woman named Mary showed up. And before anyone could stop her, she pulled out an alabaster jar containing very expensive perfume which she had brought with her-—no doubt her most valuable possession and one which she had been saving for years-—and then broke it to pour the perfume on the Master’s head and feet.

The treasurer of the little band-—Judas-—objected, of course, indignantly asserting that the perfume could have been sold for more than a year’s wages and the money given to “the poor” (though John suggests that Judas sometimes apparently considered himself among that group, helping himself to whatever was put into the common purse whenever he wanted to do so.)

But Jesus said simply, “Leave her alone, for what she has done is a beautiful thing and wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, her story will also be told.” And so it has been, even to this very day.

It causes me to wonder a little, however: on this quiet day before all the busyness of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday begins, are we ready to not only seek to know God’s will in quiet, as Jesus did on this day, but also to bring to the Master whatever we’ve been holding back and hoarding for ourselves?

Indeed, today before another Easter arrives, might it not be a good time for you and me to retreat back to our own Bethany and see just what God may have to say to us as well?

Nobody likes it but it happens to us all. For no matter how nice you may otherwise be, sooner or later if you stand for anything at all in life you are bound to run head up against those who will oppose you. And in the case of Jesus, the Tuesday of Holy Week was definitely such a day of conflict.

The Sadducees who ran the Temple were already upset with Him, to be sure, for what had happened on the day before when Jesus had driven out the moneychangers and the merchants. But when He came back to those same courts on the following morning, this time it was the Pharisees who began to question Him.

“By what authority are you doing these things?” they wanted to know (for clearly it seemed to be a stronger one than their own.)

“Is it right to pay taxes to Caesar or not?” they queried (knowing full well that almost any answer Jesus might give could incriminate Him with someone.)

“Teacher,” the Sadducees then chimed back in, “if a man dies without having any children and his widow marries his brother– and then it happens again six more times–then whose wife will she be at the Resurrection?” (An interesting question indeed, since the Sadducees didn’t even believe in the idea of resurrection.)

But Jesus quite deftly answered them all before posing a question of His own to those around him: “What do you think about the Christ? Whose son is he?”

And it strikes me that Jesus might well ask the same question of us whenever we may try to play word games with Him as well. For in the end, it’s not about theological acumen or intellectual acrobatics– it’s about what each of us decides to believe about this Jesus.

Holy Week brings us smack dab in front of that Man from Galilee who claimed to be sent from the Father above. And today is a time for putting aside our conflicts and honestly dealing with the truth He presented to us.

So what indeed do you think about the Christ?

They would have told you, I am certain, that when all was said and done they were simply good businessmen, providing a necessary community service at a reasonable price. For after all, the Law of Moses spelled out that when you came to the Temple for a festival like Passover that you ought to be ready with at least a small animal of your own to sacrifice as a part of the ancient ritual.

Only there was the rub. Because for most folks of the time, traveling all the way to Jerusalem with livestock or even a live dove was more than just a little cumbersome. And so, it was actually a matter of convenience, some would say, to be able to purchase such a Grade-A animal after you arrived in the Temple courts.

Likewise, it was understandable why you needed to pay for such animals–or even leave an offering at the altar–using only the high-content silver shekels from Tyre, never mind the idolatrous or pagan images that were stamped on many of them. For after all, it wasn’t appropriate for the Sadducees who ran the Temple to have to fiddle with fluctuating exchange rates or even deal with counterfeit coins worth far less than their supposed face value– why, that would be stealing from God, no less!

And so, a little like you might find in most international airports today, it was a blessing of sorts that right as you came into the Temple complex that you could not only get a take-out order on your animal sacrifice, but you could also change your funds on the spot, all for a simple service fee, of course.

In short, as the long-ago writer of a Seventies pop song once put it, I suspect that most of us might agree that “the buyers and the sellers were no different fellas than what I profess to be.” Oh, sure they might have skimmed a little profit off the top of their transactions, but business is business, right? And to put it into perspective, the moneychangers and merchants in the Temple were probably asking nowhere near what the scalpers at most major league sporting events do today.

So why did Jesus get all hot and bothered about it on that second day of Holy Week, a time that some have called simply “The Day of Authority?” Perhaps it was actually that in the end the whole Temple system missed the point of what it means to love God. Because when all is said and done, we simply can’t reduce our discipleship down to a dollar amount, no matter how much it might be. For anytime we may try to do so, we are inevitably tempted to think we can buy off God with a good tip.

Despite what it has long been called, thus, the incident with the moneychangers was not so much about cleansing the Temple at all, but about disqualifying the whole sacrificial system as a means of truly worshipping God and loving Him with all of our hearts. For on this day Jesus exercised His authority to declare what the real worship of God requires. And oddly enough, it seemed to have nothing whatsoever to do with either the convenience of the worshipers or those whose job it was to count up the money at the end of the day.

All of which makes me wonder on this day: what in the world do you suppose that Jesus might have to say to you and me about the creeping commercialization of our own somewhat shallow convictions? And if He likewise showed up at most church worship services today, do you suppose He would ask for a worship guide or for a whip?

(Log on each day of this Holy Week for a special word about the Final Footsteps of Jesus.)

It’s been called “seven days that changed the world.” For the journey that began on the Mount of Olives on Palm Sunday and ended at the Empty Tomb across town one week later was indeed the most significant passage in human history. It’s no wonder that pilgrims have thus tried for centuries to retrace the footsteps of Jesus, moving through that fabled week of Passover just as Jesus Himself long ago did.

Before the Master ever stepped off of the Mount of Olives to make His way down (and then back up) into the holy city, however, Luke 9.51 tells us that Jesus rather resolutely “set his face for Jerusalem”– the same face, we might note, that had earlier glowed at the Transfiguration, the same one that He later fell upon to pray in the Garden of Gethsemane, and the same one that the soldiers spat upon and struck during the arrest that followed. For when Jesus set out for Jerusalem that final time, He understood plainly that it was tantamount to signing His own death warrant.

Those who knew Him best intuitively knew that as well. One of them, Thomas–who was clearly not the morale officer of the little band–even somewhat bravely, if gloomily, announced, “Let us also go so that we may die with Him.” (There’s a winsome evangelism slogan for you.)

And yet when that first Palm Sunday unfolded those same disciples forgot all about the dangers and found themselves caught up once again in a dream, waving their palm branches wildly and crying out in a loud voice, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory in the highest!” (Luke 19.38)

The Pharisees, of course, tried to shush them, in part out of their fear of the Romans; in part, no doubt, out of sheer envy at the popularity which Jesus enjoyed. But the Master simply responded that if those who followed Him were silenced that the very stones themselves would then have to cry out. For even if the disciples, to say nothing of the religious establishment, still didn’t really understand what the kingship of Jesus was actually all about, He was yet worthy to be praised.

And so He is today. For the last book of the Bible reminds us that in the age to come there will be another great multitude, this one composed of people from all tribes and tongues, clothed in white robes with palm branches once again in their hands, crying out “Salvation belongs to our God who sits upon the throne and to the Lamb!” (Revelation 7.9,10)

Today is a time for remembering that reality, even if it has not yet been made fully real to you and me. So pick up a palm branch and wave it, no matter how old you are. Sing a little louder in church than you usually do. Say the creed as if you actually believed it. For even if your understanding of what it all means is as flawed as that of the disciples was, Jesus truly deserves our adoration on this Palm Sunday,

In fact, at the risk of waking up someone in the pew beside you, you may even want to shout a little in church this morning.

After all, if you don’t the rocks may just have to do it for you.

(Log on each day of this Holy Week for a special word about the Final Footsteps of Jesus.)