Lenten Devotionals

Easter’s Message of Compassion and Justice

by Jean Detjen

John 20:1-18

“Compassion is a foundation for sharing our aliveness and building a more humane world.” – Martin Lowenthal

For me, the Easter story is rich with universal inspiring metaphors that carry the meaning of God’s message beyond what mere language can convey.  It is a shared calling to live Jesus’ example of compassion and justice.  I try to imagine how frightened Jesus must have been when he called into question the oppressive social order of his day.  He was willing to sacrifice his life to stand up against a domination-based culture that was ruled by violence and fear.  As fellow sons and daughters of God, we too are called to advocate for the “Kingdom of God” in our own times.  Inclusive community, political power sharing and economic justice are what I believe Jesus wanted us to create on earth as we remember his example and ultimate sacrifice.

It has been said that the “most certain fact about the historical Jesus is his execution as a political rebel.”  His parables, teachings, and courageous actions point to world of radical egalitarianism and a love-centered society.  The death of Jesus was undeniably the consequence of the passion of his life, which was focused on seeking compassion and justice.   There is no doubt that he is asking us to do the same.  He is not suggesting that we stand immobile in rigid or literal belief systems; he is rather calling us to ACT, to BE, and to LIVE the way.  In doing this, we offer ourselves up to the possibility of new life, hope, and transformation as symbolized by the resurrection.

When we seek spiritual growth, this usually involves some element of personal sacrifice.  It is not uncommon to experience our own symbolic “deaths” as certain doors close and new ones open.  We are challenged to “take up the cross” in our own world by seeking justice and offering compassion for the oppressed, exploited, marginalized, and hurting among us.  Sometimes it is good that parts of us die in order to make room for the new life that arises within our hearts as we deepen our personal relationship with God.  When we embark upon the journey of being in harmony with an all-encompassing spiritual presence, we find ourselves on a path by which our hearts are moved to action.   This is much the same way prayer works in our lives.

As I open myself to the message of Easter, I ask that Jesus reveal to me the true nature of God (compassion) and her passion or will for the world (justice) so that I too may be a living example of this relationship.   Allow me to live with an open heart that is free of fear, immersed in gratitude, and filled with hope for a world focused on peace, justice and compassion for all God’s daughters and sons.

Please consider the following scripture readings in your devotion for the day and reflect on them, perhaps capturing your thoughts in a journal.

Job 14:1-4

Psalm 31:1-4, 15-16

I Peter 4:1-8

Matthew 27, 57-66

One of the great marriages of the 20th Century was that between two comedians: George Burns and Gracie Allen.  A wonderfully funny team on-stage and loving partners off-stage, they were married for 40 years.

When Burns first met Gracie, she was 17 years old and, like George, an aspiring vaudevillian.  Glass fragments from an exploding hurricane lamp had left her with one eye that appeared green and the other blue; another childhood accident had scalded and permanently scarred her left arm.  But Burns, who was divorced and 10 years her senior, saw a partnership.  “She could sing and she could dance and she was willing to work cheap,” he wrote. ”Who cared how old she was?”

George Burns was fond of saying, “For 40 years my act consisted of one joke.  Then she died.” He made no secret of how grief-sticken he was after Gracie died. “When I miss her a great deal, I crawl in on her side of the bed, in the middle of the day even.  I stay there until I feel warm and good, and then I go on about my business.”

In the midst of his grief, Burns found a note from Gracie. This is what it said: “Never place a period where God has placed a comma.  Love, Gracie.” That is how Gracie Allen told her husband George, even after she died, that he still had a future.  God would make it possible.

The season of Lent is a time to remember and rekindle our resurrection faith.  Even death is not a period in our lives.  Through God, it is only a comma, a pause, maybe even a period of silent reflection before God speaks again.  At the foot of the cross, from the dawning of the empty tomb, we proclaim that through every passage of our life, through every hope and possibility for the future, God is still speaking.

— Rev. Dr. Stephen Savides

Please consider the following scripture readings in your devotion for the day and reflect on them, perhaps capturing your thoughts in a journal.

Exodus 12:1-4, 11-14

Psalm 116:1-2, 12-19

I Corinthians 11:23-26

John 13:1-17, 31b-35

Professor Hans Hoekendijk taught at Union Seminary in New York City.  Before and during World War II, he lived in Amsterdam, where he and his friends hid Jewish children from the Nazis.  Their efforts were eventually discovered.  As a result, Hoekendijk and his friends were locked in a railroad car and shipped off to a death camp in Germany.  One morning the train suddenly stopped.  The doors were opened.  The prisoners were told to climb out and lined up alongside the railroad tracks.  They assumed they were in Germany.  They thought they were going to be shot, but they were in Switzerland.  Someone had thrown a switch and now they were free.  For the rest of his life, Hoekendijk kept asking, “What do you do with such a gift?”

Whenever we come face-to-face with mortality it brings us up short and makes us take stock of our lives.  It makes us realize that this earthly life doesn’t last forever; in fact, it is far more temporary than we let ourselves think.  It makes us realize that each day of life is a gift.  In this season of Lent, the mystery of life is resolved as we are reminded who the giver is and what the purpose of the gift is.  The giver is God.  God’s purpose, revealed through Jesus Christ, is to gather us together.

We too should be asking Professor Hoekendijk’s question: What do we do with such a gift?  You need to make your own list, but here are some that appear on mine: Live in the moment.  Cherish today.  Hug your children.  Kiss your partner.  Tell the most important people in your life what they mean to you.  Speak from your heart.  Give up regret and practice confession.  Don’t wait another day.  Forgive as well as be forgiven.  Taste the things you put on your tongue.  Be thankful for the gift of life.  Dance whenever you get the chance.  Dedicate your life to the New World God is trying to bring into existence from the ashes, blood, and pain of this world.  And never, never forget to be thankful to the one who gave you the gift.

— Rev. Dr. Stephen Savides

Jesus said to turn the other cheek
He also said to forgive 7 times 70
Easy for Him to say
He was God
Or at least the Son of God

How do I get to the place
Where I forgive those
Who disrespect me and malign me
Those who could care less about my feelings
Yet I still care about theirs

Why is forgiveness so hard
Why does it take so much out of you
Why is it easier to hold on to a grudge
Rather than to let it go
Am I doing something wrong

If it is true that we are to love others
As we love ourselves
And we stay mad at ourselves
For our misdeeds and misdoing
Is it realistic to easily forgive someone

If you extend the olive branch
Of friendship and kindness and forgiveness
And it is not returned
Should you really keep trying
Even if you feel it is a lost cause

Or will persistence win the day
With the honesty and sincerity of words
Be recognized and acknowledged
Followed by a reasonable attempt
To let bygones be bygones

Is this one of the famous battles
Between head and heart
With both having opposing views
But the same hold on your psyche
Neither winning, neither losing

Sometimes I wonder
If our lack of ability to forgive
Is truly more rooted in our
Bruised ego and hurt feelings
Perhaps the pain we feel is comforting

If I were to release my anger and my pain
Only to be knocked again
Who becomes the bigger fool
Me for trying
Or them for doing

I wish that such matters were as easy
As a game of tic-tac-toe
Or perhaps it is
Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose
Neither happens if you don’t take a chance

So I resolve to forgive
To be the bigger and better person
Give of myself as I would want others
To give to me
And perhaps this time everyone will win.

— Chuck Smoot
September 1, 2002
The Poetry Experience

(Charles E. Smoot © 2003-2009, all rights reserved)

Forgiveness

Matthew 26:14-27

I find in this life that God asks hard things of us—love our neighbor as ourselves, love our enemies, and serve one another.  But the hardest request of God to carry out is the act of forgiveness, especially when we are asked to forgive those who have been friends and then do us harm, intentionally or unintentionally.

In a faith community I once served I had a member whose son and niece were killed by a drunk driver on the way to school one morning.  This member’s daughter and her nephew, who also were in the car that morning, survived.  The drunk driver turned out to be a close family friend—he survived, suffering a few broken bones and bruises.

The mother, my church member, was heartbroken beyond belief, as you can imagine.  Her grief was further complicated by another local pastor who felt the need to share his own beliefs with her—belief that because her son had not been baptized he was living in hell, not in heaven among God’s chosen people.  Initially, the whole family was in shock and disbelief.  In the months to come, the numbness gave way to anger and extreme depression. Over a period of five years, the mother was able to work through her sadness, her incredible loss, the sense of betrayal and all the accompanying grief.  She came to see this for the tragedy it was on all fronts, including this drunk driver’s disease of alcoholism.

One day, she went to the prison where this man, her friend  son’s killer was serving his sentence.  She told him that she forgave him for what he did and hoped that by God’s grace she would be re-united with her son in heaven.  It took so much courage and love on her part to come to that place where she could forgive this friend for taking her son and niece’s lives.

Judas betrayed Jesus and yet Jesus forgave not only Judas but also all who sought to take away his life.  From the cross, the words come, “Father forgive them for they know not what they do.”

Forgiveness is the hardest act to do. Offering grace is not easy,  especially when we have been deeply hurt by those we know and love.  Yet Jesus modeled grace and forgiveness for us in the hardest and harshest of life’s circumstances.  Can we not rise up and do the same for one another?

My favorite hymn from the Iona Community proclaims in its refrain:

Goodness is stronger than evil,
Love is stronger than hate,
Light is stronger than darkness.
Love is stronger than death.

Thanks be to God who gives us victory over all that seeks to divide us from one another and from God’s love and grace.

— Rev. Jane Anderson

Please consider the following scripture readings in your devotion for the day and reflect on them, perhaps capturing your thoughts in a journal.

Isaiah 50:4-9a

Psalm 31:9016

Matthew 26:14-27

Henri Nouwen’s book The Road to Daybreak is not so much a book as a personal journal written in the year he made a very significant life’s transition, leaving  his teaching post at Harvard to become a priest ministering to a community of physically and mentally handicapped people in Toronto, Canada.  In the book he tells about Daniel, a handicapped man, whose father dies.  Daniel unexpectedly invites everyone to come back to his room after supper and pray with him.  Nouwen writes,

This was remarkable since Daniel never joined in evening prayer and was very protective of his privacy.  People never just went into his room.  But tonight he invited everyone to enter more deeply into his life to be with him in his grief.  He placed some candles and small statues on the floor.  Pepe, one of the other handicapped men, brought a picture of his deceased mother and put it next to the candles and the statues.  Pepe had little to say, but by putting his own mother’s photograph on the floor of Daniel’s room, he said more than any of us could with our sympathetic words…

The twelve of us huddled together in Daniel’s small bedroom and prayed for him, his father, his mother, his grandmother, and his friends.  We showed him a picture of Jesus and asked him who it was.  ‘It is Jesus, the hidden one,’ he answered.  For Daniel, Jesus was hard to reach, but tonight this small group of friends made Jesus more tangible than ever before.”

There is a holy mystery in this story, a mystery about the deep connection between private prayer and shared suffering.  Think of these two handicapped men: Daniel, so private and yet instinctively knowing that now was the time to open up and allow the community to heal his suffering; and Pepe, whose own prayerful thoughts remained secret, yet from the depths of his own grief, shared the one gesture that was most healing for Daniel: “Here is my mother.  She is gone just like your father.  My grief is yours.  Your grief is mine.” And the hidden Jesus, the heart of compassion and hope, was revealed.

— Rev. Dr. Stephen Savides

Oma

Would you see my mother-in-law
at home
make a house call?
I hear you do, that’s why I’m asking
a favor here
I will pay you for it, she says.
The call came at the end of the day
But if you do a favor for a nurse
the blessing will return to you
a hundred-fold.
It is purely mathematical.

Turns out the patient
is 88.
She had 11 children
10 born at home
1 born in the hospital
and she hasn’t been back since.
What she likes is feeding her family
with things she grows in her garden.
Her specialty is canning.

Seems when the patient
was in her 70’s
she raised the nurse’s only son
when her own son died.
The boy is grown up,
and he is at the house
a 15 year-old with a 50 year-old mother
and a 88 year old mom/grandmother
he calls Oma
as they do in the old country.

The patient is pale and dyspneic
breathing 30 times a minute.
She is short of breath sitting
in her favorite chair.
Her pulse is regular, but 120 beats per minute
Her temperature is 101 degrees F.
Her blood pressure is 190/100.
Inside her lower eyelids I can see pale membranes
and the lines on her hands are indistinct
suggesting anemia.  A mild heart murmur
supports this diagnosis.
(Or could this all be fever?  An overactive thyroid?)
Her right lung has crackles in it.
Does she have water on the lung?
I thump gently
along her back
and can’t find any fluid.
Her humpback shows me that she
gave calcium to her children
and didn’t keep enough for herself
when I comment on this
she says
you should see how strong
my childrens’ backs are
All things considered,
this pneumonia doesn’t seem
to be doing her any particular favor
by killing her
I call for lab to be drawn in her home.
I call for oxygen to begin in her home at
2 liters a minute per nasal cannula.
I give her the 14 hard packed blue antibiotic pills
I brought with me
and tell her to take two tonight,
then one twice a day.
I hold her hand in mine
and say, now I need payment.
I want pickles, I say.
Two jars.

Her grandson goes downstairs to get them.
The next day, when I call the nurse
to see how Oma is
the nurse says,
I had to bump up the oxygen last night
hope it’s ok with you
she was really short of breath
it was a tough night
I stayed with her
I think we would have lost her
without the oxygen
but she seems better today.

Exactly right, I think to myself
the antibiotics haven’t had chance to work yet
but they’ll kick in today.
We’ll handle whatever we find on the lab
with nonmaleficence.

A small thing, this house call
only an hour spent
A few pills,
a day or two of home oxygen
maybe a life saved.

When we stopped doing house calls
as a matter of practice
we gave up the fun
and art of making a diagnosis
in the patient’s own home
with our own hands
we joined the assembly line
took our place in the industrial revolution.

Driving home, I look at the pickles.
They wave back,
glistening green spears
floating amid big herb fronds
nestled between chunks of onions
and cloves of garlic.
I am a lucky doctor.

— Dave Schiedermayer