That We All May Be One

What a wonderful way to continue the Easter celebration today: experiencing the Quad City Symphony, the Handel Oratorio Society and the Augustana College Choir perform Mahler’s Symphony No. 2 in C minor, “Resurrection.” It was extremely well done and especially meaningful to my wife, Susanne, who was privileged to be part of a choir offering this same superb music while a student at the University of Iowa, years ago.

The program notes point out that the symphony “begins with reflections on the afterlife (movement one), happy memories of the deceased (movement two), followed immediately by an ominous sense of meaninglessness (movement three). Then, a profound profession of faith in eternal life (movement four) leads to the final, apocalyptic vision: the Dies Irae, the last trumpet and the final resurrection of the dead (movement five).

The amazing thing about this piece is its ability to avoid the thin, optimistic, “pie-in-the-sky” vision of the resurrection and eternal life offered in too many Easter sermons and funeral homilies. The reality of death, confrontation with the possible meaningless of life, the real grief experienced in the death of a loved one are all present. Yet, in the every movement — from the grave, to pleasant memories, to near-despair, to the triumph of the resurrection — hope is an ever-present theme. Hope, not optimism.

This is our Easter message, dear friends:

Was enstanden ist, das muB vergehen! Was vergangen, auferstehen! Hor auf zu beben! Bereite dich zu leben!

What was created must perish, What has perished must rise again. Tremble no more! Prepare yourself to live!

As we seek to sustain our Easter joy throughout this week (and in fact, throughout the Great Fifty Days of Easter until the Day of Pentecost) this is our prayer for this morning: “O God, whose blessed Son made himself known to his disciples in the breaking of bread: Open the eyes of our faith, that we may behold him in all his redeeming work; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever.” Amen.

This Collect reminds us that one of the ways the Risen Christ was made known to his disciples, and continues to be made known to us, is through the Eucharist. Table fellowship was a big part of Jesus’ common life with his disciples. He shared bread with outcast and sinner and with scribe and Pharisee during his earthly life. The common meal reached its zenith in that Last Supper (likely a Passover meal) when he identified the broken bread with his body and the poured out wine with his blood. He then told them to “do this in remembrance of me.”

No doubt they followed that command faithfully. Because Paul speaks of the Eucharist in great detail in his letters to the Corinthians and elsewhere. Luke tells of the Walk to Emmaus where Cleopas and his companion (his wife?) experience the Risen Christ and are quoted as saying, “Were not our hearts burning within us on the road when he was opening the scriptures to us?” (Luke 24:32) Yes, but not before they had shared a meal with him where he “took, blessed, broke, and gave them bread” to them…just as he had with the Twelve in the upper room the night before he died.

And, of course, seven of the apostles in the Gospel of John have bread and fish with Jesus on the beach in Galilee right after they had gone back to do what they knew best — fishing — as they wrestled with the possibility that all this had been for naught and that his mission (and theirs) was a failure. Once again, he was known to them in the “breaking of the bread.”

There are, of course, all kinds of theories about what “happens” at the Eucharist. Some of those theories have tragically become “church dividing” over the centuries. How that must grieve the heart of God! Perhaps we “understand it best” when we approach the Eucharist guided by these words attributed to Thomas Aquinas and later paraphrased by Elizabeth I.

“Taste and touch and vision to discern thee fail; faith that comes by hearing,  pierces through the veil. I believe whate’er the Son of God hath told; what the Truth has spoken, that for truth I hold.” (Hymnal 1979 #314)

Alleluia. Christ is Risen. Therefore, let us keep the feast!

I’ve always loved the Gospel of Mark — which is why I published an extended meditation on this first-gospel-ever-written called John Mark (see redmoonpublications.com). I love its fast-paced, almost breathless action and the fact that scholars believe it was written closest to the actual events it purports to convey. This Easter Week, in our daily lectionary, we have just completed various “endings” of Mark.

In keeping with its “highlights only, almost outline” webelieve that the original  ending of the gospel was at Mark 16:8 with Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome experiencing the empty tomb when they brought spices to anoint Jesus’ body. A young man suggests that they go tell Peter and the other disciples that he had been raised from the dead and that they should go back to the place where it all began — Galilee — where they would see him once again. Initially, however, the women fled from the tomb and didn’t tell anyone “for they were afraid.” The story ends with an affirmation of the resurrection, but no actual appearances of Jesus.

The longer ending of Mark (Chapter 16, verses 9-20) appear to have been added later and include details which would later be included in the Gospels of Matthew,  Luke-Acts (and perhaps even the much later Gospel of John!). The appearance to Mary Magdalene (John 20:11-18), walk to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35) and Great Commission (Matthew 28:16-20) seem to be suggested in this longer ending of Mark.

The unknown author may have even known of Luke’s second-volume Acts of the Apostles since, in this section (Mark 16:17-18) he seems to refer to events such as exorcism by the apostles, speaking in tongues, and Paul’s snake handling which we only know of in the accounts of the Acts of the Apostles. Finally, the ascension of Jesus is mentioned (Mark 16:19-20) a fuller account of which we can find in Luke 24 and Acts 1.

Some people find the literary dependence between the four gospels (and even Acts) to be problematic since it suggests, among other things, that Matthew and Luke (and perhaps even John) had the Gospel of Mark before them when they wrote, incorporating much of his story and adding details of which they were aware or further grounding the life of Jesus in the Hebrew Scriptures.

I find it fascinating and even affirming that the four evangelists took such care in their recounting of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection while each one bringing an emphasis of his own — Matthew’s a Jewish one; Luke’s a Gentile one; John perhaps specifically Hellenistic thoughtand philosophy.

How much richer the accounts we have when seen though four sets of lenses than if we only had one, but that they took each other seriously enough to build on their predecessors’ work!

It was certainly not a festive meal. Even though some churches (used to?) break out the white vestments, sing the Gloria instead of the Kyrie, and adorn the altar with flowers, the Last Supper was just that. The last one. And everyone knew it.

Imagine the tension which must have filled that upper room, after the unexpected and embarrassing  washing of the feet by their Master. The shock when he spoke of his impending betrayal — to be effected by one of their own band…one at this table with them.

And, when he changed the words of the Passover ritual. Taking the rough loaf of bread into his hands, he must have looked around the table, sorrowfully, before he broke it in two. This is what will happen to my body. And, putting the wine into a cup (no, not a chalice!). My blood will be poured out like this. For you.

The Gospels record some discussion, some denial and anguish about who the betrayer might be and was all this really necessary anyway? But my guess is, most of the meal was eaten in an uneasy silence. The bread, dry in their throats; the wine, sour. But they gamely picked up the ancient ritual, sang a psalm, and moved out together back toward Bethany…and Gethsemane.

There he prayed. There, overwhelmed by fatigue and depression, they slept. Until the soldiers arrived with the betrayer. And there was fear…and fighting…and blood. Until he was bound and taken away from them.

What were they to do? Flee? Fight? Was it possible to rescue him? Peter may have had that in mind as he moved, under the cover of darkness, toward the site of the “trial.” Before the futility of such an effort became clear. And his courage failed.

They would just have to wait…and see. What the daylight would reveal.