The Desert Shall Rejoice

ISAIAH 35:    The wilderness and the dry land shall be glad, the desert shall rejoice and blossom; like the crocus it shall blossom abundantly, and rejoice with joy and singing. The glory of Lebanon shall be given to it, the majesty of Carmel and Sharon. They shall see the glory of the LORD, the majesty of our God. Strengthen the weak hands, and make firm the feeble knees. Say to those who are of a fearful heart, “Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God. He will come with vengeance, with terrible recompense. He will come and save you.”

Then the eyes of the blind shall be opened, and the ears of the deaf unstopped; then the lame shall leap like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless sing for joy. For waters shall break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert; the burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water; the haunt of jackals shall become a swamp, the grass shall become reeds and rushes. A highway shall be there, and it shall be called the Holy Way; the unclean shall not travel on it, but it shall be for God’s people; no traveler, not even fools, shall go astray. No lion shall be there, nor shall any ravenous beast come up on it; they shall not be found there, but the redeemed shall walk there. And the ransomed of the LORD shall return, and come to Zion with singing; everlasting joy shall be upon their heads; they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.                   


(Note: This is what the desert here really looks like right now!  Such a miracle of color and growth and life in unlikely places.  Dry, rocky, and windy, the desert DARES anything to survive-- the plants are dancing in the face of that dare for springtime.  Soon it will return to rough and tumble desert times.)  

Take off Your Shoes

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.

He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, "Lord, are you going to wash my feet?"

Jesus replied, "You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand."

"No," said Peter, "you shall never wash my feet."

Jesus answered, "Unless I wash you, you have no part with me."

"Then, Lord," Simon Peter replied, "not just my feet but my hands and my head as well!"

 Jesus answered, "Those who have had a bath need only to wash their feet; their whole body is clean. And you are clean, though not every one of you."  For he knew who was going to betray him, and that was why he said not every one was clean.  When he had finished washing their feet, he put on his clothes and returned to his place. "Do you understand what I have done for you?" he asked them. "You call me 'Teacher' and 'Lord,' and rightly so, for that is what I am. Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another's feet.  I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.  Very truly I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.

-John 13:2-17- 

A few days ago I was at a rocky stretch of seaside, and I couldn't resist the urge to take my shoes off and let my feet grip the sun-warmed stones.  There is a sensate exhilaration to barefootedness for some of us-- wiggling toes, grounded and balanced upon the earth-- and I think there are interlocked layers of meaning when we slip off our shoes and sandals.  There is the classic scene of Moses barefooted beholding the burning bush-- dusty feet a recognition and closeness with the ground that is holy.  There is some of that fear and wonder prompting my reverence at the seaside, but let's be honest, I also like to have my toes in the sand.  I like the water and waves to reach up and touch me.  (It always leaps up higher than my rolled pant cuffs.  Without fail.)

 

It's the sense of being touched that's so important in barefooted scriptures.  Moses needs to remove whatever stands between him and contact with the holy ground.  When Jesus washes the disciples' feet, he is TOUCHING their grungy, weary parts.  Feet are ticklish, funny-shaped, strong, stinky parts of the body.  Jesus wants to touch that?

 

This Maundy Thursday, I finally had the opportunity to wash someone's feet.  After years of wanting to practice it, it was simple, powerful, and beautiful.  Granted, the feet of my friend were pretty nice.  When I took her feet into the basin, no sludge came off and no blisters oozed.  But I held her feet in my hands and, looking up at her, realized I was literally under her feet.  She could have kicked me aside or splashed me with water or just walked away, but she sat and let me rinse and dry her heels and toes into cleanliness.

 

We can shield our feet from contact and our hearts from loving service and not realize what we're doing.  But sometimes, some days, we might hope to understand, we might take our shoes off, and we might end up washing one another's feet.

Joan's Palms on Sunday

If I told this story
you would worry
say "stay safe"
"carry pepper spray"
to stop it
stop her.
Was it
dangerous?

Danger of soft pillowed hands
filled with warmth of life
and sun and scraping by
and scrapping on the street.
Warm under waving palms,
this is no royal procession:
smells and scenes of rejection
men and women who want food
no flimsy 'bread of life'
but a hearty soup.
It is all backdrop to a bruised and limping plea:
"Got a quarter?  Or a dollar?"
No, but we can get food
if you want?
"Oh yes!"
Handshake introduction:
"Joan."
Laura.
Civilized and safe
until despairing strength pulls me in
too close
my hands wound in hers
and here is danger
close as a whisper-sob
of jibbered fear:
"the police don't understand."

I have to pull away
from the insane harm
and helpless hurt
in her hands.
I hate to
have to
let her go
admit defeat
and fear.

Walking away was right?
But Joan's babbled yells
were no consolation
no checkmark
for a task completed.

It is this uncertain
mess of conscience
pepper spray would not
ameliorate.
It is this day of significance
warming me up to
full absurdity of royal parade
led by a donkey.

Danger and bruises and hands and holiness,
wrapped in palms this Sunday,
invite me to tell a story
that repeats.

Eep! 2 Weeks!

There's been so much to write about these past few weeks, and I just haven't done it!  I don't know if others have that same experience... when there's too much to say.  There are days when my journal reflects that overload as well, and the result is short phrases and disjointed words.  Because I know it's important, and I want to transcribe it WELL, but there's a logjam from my mind to my typing fingers.

What's been rolling around in that time is a lot of reflection on Holy Week and Easter.  Lent was deep and powerful for me this year, so I had an odd sense of wanting to savor its last few days as Holy Week ticked down to Sunday.  In the small group I attend, a few of us talked about the beautiful focus of Lent-- this time to place ourselves firmly in a process of moving toward the cross.  Liturgically speaking, I've been mulling the last week or so on what focus can come from the season we're now in.  I read Acts 1-2 this morning:

After [Jesus'] suffering he presented himself alive to them by many convincing proofs, appearing to them over the course of forty days and speaking about the kingdom of God. While staying with them, he ordered them not to leave Jerusalem, but to wait there for the promise of the Father.

At a lecture I attended this week, the speaker advocated the value of "non-productive  repetition of the liturgy"-- meaning that we're not to put ourselves through Lent, Epiphany, Advent (etc.) for our own betterment and improvement, but for the sake of living in seasons of obedience to God.  In that light, I'd agree that observing Lent doesn't make me a better person... but it can prepare me to be an Easter person.  A person with fresh appreciation of the cross and its rending indignity.  A person who needs and welcomes the wounds on the hands and the side of Jesus.  A person who waits for the promise.  Waiting and teaching in turn can prepare me to be a Pentecost person.  And so on.

All that to say, I'm going to keep turning the soil of Holy Week.  Let's have Jesus appear and stay with us and speak about the kingdom of God.