Sunday, April 9th, 2023 – Merry Christmas, an Easter Sermon on Divine Laughter.

Gospel: Matthew 28:1-10

1After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. (Oh sure, I’m always the other Mary. …) 2And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord was descending from heaven (hey! Up here! Hold on, I’m coming down. Descending, descending, descending…whew I made it)…An angel of the Lord came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. 3His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow (Oh come on. More snow. Seriously??!). 4For fear of the angel, the guards shook and became like dead men (ooooooh no…*guards fall over*). 5But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. 6He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. 7Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, (into megaphone…he’s been raised from the dead!) and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee (he’s going ahead of you to galilee!); there you will see him.’ This is my message for you.” 8So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples. 9Suddenly Jesus met them and said, “Greetings!” (Hi! Hi there! It’s so good to see you! I love what you’ve done with your hair!) And they came to him, took hold of his feet, and worshiped him. 10Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid (Don’t be afraid!); go and tell my brothers and sisters to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”*[1]

Alleluia, Christ is risen!
Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia!

Happy Easter!
Happy Easter!

Ooo, this is fun. 

Good morning!
Good morning!

Okay, last one –  this one comes from my son and has a head motion to it.

Sup?
Sup?

Dear people of God, it is so good to be with you and to laugh with you today. I know that whenever we gather like this, we all come from so many different places. Different places in life, different places in faith with belief and disbelief and confusion and awe. However you come to this place today, just know that we are so glad you are here. It’s so good to be together. 

Grace, peace, and mercy are yours in the name of our risen Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen. 

A couple of years ago, Pastor David Lose became the new senior pastor at Mt. Olivet Lutheran Church in Minneapolis. It is a rather large congregation with multiple campuses and many services, especially on holidays. 

It was Easter Sunday and he was coming to the end of his sermon. After talking about the Easter story, he says to his congregation, “We come to church, to remind each other of Jesus’ promises and to learn to trust God. To trust that the future is in God’s hands. So that we can move beyond our fears and embrace the new life, the possibility, the future that God offers us. That’s what it means to be resurrection people…”

And then he slows down, gets real quiet and says, “At Easter, we learn that God’s story is not yet finished. And because of this, neither is ours. Anything and everything is possible … The tomb is empty…Christ is risen …..Merry Christmas…”

And then he gasps and says,  “I mean…happy easter!”

And then he smiles and he laughs at himself. And the congregation laughs with him and with vulnerable joy and smile on his face, he simply says, “You guys, this is like my 5th service today, I’m so tired.”

It was really funny. Now, I’m sure in that gasp there was a split-second moment of panic and embarrassment – that he had flubbed the line at Easter. But it didn’t last long. He let his guard down and welcomed the full embrace of his humanity and the embrace of his congregation, and they joined in laughter together.

It was an accidental joke, a mistake if you will, but there was something about that moment that seemed to be the perfect way to mark Easter.

With laughter. 

Like, for a tomb that’s just been opened, it felt like it just brought in an unexpected breath of fresh air. Some much needed laughter and joy on Easter morning. 

Have you ever laughed so hard that you cried? I hope you have. I hope you have recently.  There’s something magical about it, isn’t there? Something healing and restoring about it. One of my favorite comedian’s, Mike Birbiglia, says, that jokes, comedy, laughter at it’s best has the ability to make us all feel closer to one another.

 Did you know that Aristotle called human beings the “laughing animal”? Aristotle thought that what separated humans from animals was not language or reason, but rather…laughter. In fact, he said we aren’t fully human until we’ve had our first laugh. 

Now, it’s not true that animals don’t laugh, but it’s interesting to think about. Like, does my dog laugh?  I kind of feel like he has…and I certainly hope he has a way to laugh.

Do my cats laugh?

No. No, they do not. 

“Laughter, as one preacher says, opens up a joy that goes beyond words. There’s something divine in laughter that humanity is invited to share in. Laughing is participating in what God is (infectiously, subversively non-coercively but irresistibly) doing. And laughter – joyous, physically consuming, whole-body laughter – is at the heart of God.”[2] My favorite picture of my dad and my son together is when they both are bent over laughing together. It’s divine laughter right there in the frame. 

But we don’t tend to laugh very much when we are reading the bible. And we don’t even tend to laugh very much just in this space – the sanctuary. For many people and for many years, inside the church building and inside worship is a very serious place. Where we need to be on our best behavior – with proper clothing and attitudes and demeanor. 

And that’s for good reason. We engage in some of the most sacred acts in this place. Confession and forgiveness, baptism and holy communion. Praying for those who are sick or hurting or diminished by the world. We accompany our loved ones to the grave in this space. We are serious in this space. The gospel is serious. Seriously good news. And so we do talk about serious and sad and important things.

Too often when it comes to the bible or to church, we don’t think we can laugh. When I was in seminary, there was a piece of artwork displayed in the student center. It was a painting of Jesus laughing. And it was a controversy on campus. Some people loved it, but other couldn’t possibly imagine a world where Jesus…would be laughing. 

But what if we are called to laugh in this place and when we read scripture? It’s been said that we confuse taking the bible and the gospel seriously with taking it solemnly. Many of us, myself included, put on our “I’m-reading-the-bible-now” voice, sometimes missing the possibility that at that very moment, maybe the bible is making a joke.[3]

Purchase this excellent book here.

Sometimes in the bible, God is the one who is laughing – like in Psalm 104, when God laughs and plays with God’s rubber-ducky known as Leviathan in the bathtub know as the sea. In the bible, Leviathan is supposed to be the big scary creature of the deep, but in Psalm 104, to God, he’s just a bath toy for God to laugh and play with.[4]

Sometimes in the bible, it’s the characters who are laughing. For example, one of God’s very first promises in the scriptures was to Abraham and Sarah and that they would have a child and from that child, they would have many descendants. As numerous as the stars. And they would have this child at the young age of like… 91. And Sarah laughs. It’s a protective laughter. Yeah, right, after all this time? No way. Even Abraham laughs so hard he falls on his face. But then when that promise came true, when what was impossible, unforeseeable happened – when Sarah gave birth to a child, Sarah says, “God has brought laughter for me; everyone who hears will laugh with me.” It feels like a different kind of laughter this time. Like a laughter that has swept away sadness and cleared a path for joy – because the impossible, the unexpected has happen.

Oh – and God told them to name the child Isaac. Isaac, which means… Laughter. 

Sometimes in the bible, it’s the reader who is laughing.

Did you know that in the bible the Prophet Elisha is told to prophetically hide his underwear among rocks by the river? 

Or did you know that a teenager falls out a window and dies because the Apostle Paul’s sermon was so boring? 

Or just take this morning’s telling of the Easter story. Sure, we had some of our own humor layered over the top – but there is also humor baked into the story itself. An earth-shaking – stone-shattering entrance of Angel, who – you know –  is just chillin’ on top of the massive stone they just moved. Or the guards who are supposed to make sure the dead guy stays dead are the ones who fall over like fainting goats at the sight of the angel. Or Jesus who said he would see them in Galilee, but apparently just couldn’t wait for the women to get there before joining the party with them, so he pops up unexpectedly out of nowhere, making a cameo in his own resurrection story. 

What if the gospel…what if Easter…is a comedy. What if we’re supposed to laugh?

Frederick Buechner says that “The tragic is inevitable.” The tragic is inevitable. I doubt I have to say much more on that. We know it. We get it. Tragedy has it’s way of finding us all. But then he says, “The comic is the unforeseeable.”[5] That which we can’t imagine would or could ever happen. Tragedy is assumed. Tragedy is expected. Death comes for us all. Good Friday is a tragedy. But Comedy and laughter comes out of the unexpected thing that we couldn’t see, that never could have happened but did. It’s the surprise, the punchline, and it leads us to laughter and joy, hope and new life.

What if the gospel, what if Easter…is a comedy? What if we’re supposed to laugh? 

Laughter is powerful, isn’t?

If you’ve ever been to a stand-up comedian show, the really good ones have this incredible power to turn strangers into family using nothing but words in a short amount of time. Vir Das, a stand-up comedian, says that at his shows, there is often a moment where something so unexpected, so un-orchestrated happens, and laughter and applause erupts… and the artist on stage and the audience both  have this moment where they think, “Ah…I’m so glad we did this.”[6] That’s the power of the unexpected. The power of comedy. It can stitch a whole group of strangers together and all they can think is, “I’m so glad we did this.”

When Pastor David Lose wished his congregation a merry Christmas at Easter time it was perfect because it was unexpected and funny and it stitched them together in a way. But it was also perfect because Easter and Christmas belong together. 

At Christmas time, we are given the promise that God’s whole purpose for creation was to be with us – revealed to us in the incarnation, in Jesus being born to us in a manger. In Holy Week, we discover just how far God will go to be with us – God will go to the cross with us and for us, to join us in suffering solidarity. On Good Friday, we see how much it costs God to be with us – it costs God everything. And then at Easter we learn the only thing that can separate us from that promise – which is nothing. Not even death. Easter is the ultimate “nothing can separate us from the love of God” moment. Easter is the fulfillment of Christmas. Christmas says, “God is with us.” Easter says, “God is with us…forever.”

It’s so good and so unexpected that all we can do is become like Sarah…and laugh. 

In the beatitudes Jesus says, “Blessed are you who weep and mourn, for one day…one day…you will laugh.” And the truth is, I’m sure for some of us, it is hard to laugh today. For so many reasons, known and unknow. And that’s okay. But the easter promise is that someday you will laugh again. 

I mean, what if it’s true. What if it’s really true? What if love is stronger than death. What if there is life beyond what we know? What if nothing really can separate us from the love of God? 

Would that just be the best punchline of the story. 

Some says the gospel is a love story. But what if it’s a romantic comedy. 

Frederick Buechner again says “Is it possible, I wonder, to say that it is only when you hear the Gospel as a wild and marvelous joke that you really hear it at all? Heard as anything else the gospel is the church’s thing, the preacher’s thing, the lecturer’s thing. Heard as a joke -it can only be God’s thing.”[7]

“Resurrection comes at the moment that the whole story of everything could be lost.”[8]When the tragedy and end of Good Friday seems inevitable and there is no foreseeable future, Resurrection comes out of the unforeseeable. And in that way, resurrection is surprise. Resurrection is the punch line. Resurrection is the comedy in the RomCom story of God and God’s people. “It reveals God’s utter commitment to be with us, however determined we are to reject (and betray) the offer of love, the source of life, and the purpose of all (creation)…it’s Easter that changes everything. It’s Easter that shows God will never give up on us. It’s easter that demonstrate that this relationship, for which God created the universe and because of which Jesus died…this relationship is finally, ultimately, eternally unbreakable.”[9] The gospel says that one day we will laugh again and that day is today. 

Good Friday takes our breath away, but on Easter…on Easter…we get to laugh again. The joke is on death, despair, and loneliness. Resurrection, life, joy, hope and love will have the last laugh. 

Alleluia, Christ is Risen!
Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia!

Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas!

I’m so glad we did this.

God bless you and keep each one of you. Blessed and joyful Easter.

Amen.


[1] Some humor and fun and joy added.

[2] Sam Wells, One Day You Will Laugh, https://chapel-archives.oit.duke.edu/documents/sermons/March23OneDayYouWillLaugh11am.pdf

[3] Thomas G. Long, https://cepreaching.org/audio-sermons/saints/

[4] Rolf Jacobson and Karl Jacobson, Divine Laughter: Preaching and the Serious Business of Humor, pg. 45.

[5] Frederick Buechner, Telling the Truth: The Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy, and Fairy Tale, pg. 57.

[6] Vir Das was a guest on “Working It Out” podcast with Mike Birbiglia. 

[7] Frederick Buechner, Telling the Truth: The Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy, and Fairy Tale, pg. 57.

[8] Wells, Samuel. Humbler Faith, Bigger God: Finding a Story to Live By (pp. 227-228). Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.. Kindle Edition.

[9] Wells, Samuel. Humbler Faith, Bigger God: Finding a Story to Live By (pp. 227-228). Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co.. Kindle Edition.

Thursday, April 6th, 2023 – Something Remains, a sermon for Maundy Thursday.

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 11:23-26

23For I received from the Lord what I also handed on to you, that the Lord Jesus on the night when he was betrayed took a loaf of bread, 24and when he had given thanks, he broke it and said, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.” 25In the same way he took the cup also, after supper, saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” 26For as often as you eat this bread and drink the cup, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes.

Gospel: John 13:1-35

1Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. 2The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him. And during supper 3Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, 4got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. 5Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. 6He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” 7Jesus answered, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” 8Peter said to him, “You will never wash my feet.” Jesus answered, “Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.” 9Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” 10Jesus said to him, “One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.” 11For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, “Not all of you are clean.”
12After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, “Do you know what I have done to you? 13You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. 14So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. 15For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. 16Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. 17If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.”
18I am not speaking of all of you; I know whom I have chosen. But it is to fulfill the scripture, ‘The one who ate my bread has lifted his heel against me.’ 19I tell you this now, before it occurs, so that when it does occur, you may believe that I am he. 20Very truly, I tell you, whoever receives one whom I send receives me; and whoever receives me receives him who sent me.” 21After saying this Jesus was troubled in spirit, and declared, “Very truly, I tell you, one of you will betray me.” 22The disciples looked at one another, uncertain of whom he was speaking. 23One of his disciples—the one whom Jesus loved—was reclining next to him; 24Simon Peter therefore motioned to him to ask Jesus of whom he was speaking.25So while reclining next to Jesus, he asked him, “Lord, who is it?”26Jesus answered, “It is the one to whom I give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish.” So when he had dipped the piece of bread, he gave it to Judas son of Simon Iscariot. 27After he received the piece of bread, Satan entered into him. Jesus said to him, “Do quickly what you are going to do.” 28Now no one at the table knew why he said this to him.29Some thought that, because Judas had the common purse, Jesus was telling him, “Buy what we need for the festival”; or, that he should give something to the poor. 30So, after receiving the piece of bread, he immediately went out. And it was night.
31When he had gone out, Jesus said, “Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. 32If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. 33Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come.’ 34I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. 35By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

There is one particular communion service, as a pastor, that I don’t think I will ever forget. 

A number of years ago, I was serving a church that was made up of very large and extended families. It’s a little overly simplistic to put it this way, but it felt very much like there was the Jensen side of the church and the Larson side, and a significant number of the people were connected to either of family trees. Cousins and second cousins, grandma’s and great-grandmothers. It took me years to figure out all the connections. 

In the spring, one year, the matriarch of one of the families died. It was extremely painful for all the reasons you might imagine. She was the final remaining branch and bridge that connected the sides of the family together. Everyone gathered at her house for all the major holidays. All the extended offspring seemed to connect with each other through their connection to her. She was the sun at the center of this large family’s orbit. And then after her death, everything spiraled out of control. 

As is often the case in rural communities, farmland carries a lot of meaning and value, both emotionally and financially. When this matriarch died, everyone assumed the land would be given to her son. Until the will was opened and, unexpectedly, the land was given to… the niece. No one could figure out why that would be, until it was discovered that the niece had taken her slightly confused and impressionable aunt to the lawyer’s office about 6 months earlier to change the will.  

As a result, not long after this matriarch’s death, the two sides of the family were suing each other over farmland and resentment and everyone knew it. 

One Sunday, both sides of the family were in church. It was a communion Sunday and in this particular church, we would gather around a horse-shoe railing to receive communion. A group of people would come forward, we would serve them communion, bless them, and send them back. Then another group would come forward. 

At each round of communion, as the pastor, I was the one who would tell the ushers if we had room for more or if the spots were full at the moment. On this particular Sunday, about halfway through communion, a group of people came forward and knelt down. But there was more room. Without thinking about it, I waved to the usher – we had room for more. As the next group of people came forward, I could see in their distorted faces – with each step, they were increasingly red with anger. 

I glanced around me. As chance would have it, unintentionally, both sides of this family were kneeling down at the same communion table together – with only one feeling in the air…betrayal. Betrayal of family. Betrayal of friendship. Betrayal of trust. Betrayal of love.

And it was in the midst of that moment – we shared in communion.

Looking into their angry eyes…

This is the body of Christ, given for you.
This is the body of Christ, given…for you.
The blood of Christ, shed for you.
The blood of Christ, shed…for you

I don’t’ know if the family felt the power and potential of that moment, but I know I did. 

All the sentimentality of Communion was stripped away, and perhaps more than any other time, it was extremely clear what this sacrament really was. It was not a solitary, individual, personalized and privatized encounter with God. 

This was a meal. With God and with each other. A meal that bears the promise of grace and forgiveness and connection and community, and they couldn’t believe it and couldn’t stand it that they were eating it…together. 

There is something incredibly intimate and vulnerable about eating together. In fact, when our relationships are broken or wounded, it seems to be one of the first things to go. We stop eating with each other. We get up from the table. The lunch invitations go quiet. Or we just get too busy to meet up. 

This warring family was not red in the face in the pews while singing hymns together. They were not fuming as the congregation prayed prayers together. But the thought of gathering around a table and having a meal …that was too much. 

It told us exactly what this sacrament was – this was a meal. Many of us can handle sitting at work, even going to church with those who have betrayed us. But to eat together. No way.  

On Maundy Thursday, we gather to mark and remember Jesus’ last night with his disciples.

While Maundy Thursday is often and appropriately associated with foot washing, it can be easy to forget that this was the night of Jesus’ last meal with his friends. 

On that night, present and among them and in the air at this meal was…betrayal.

As we just heard, gathered with his disciples, Jesus was troubled in spirit, and declared, “Very truly, I tell you, one of you will betray me.”

Betrayal. It is such a salacious word that can be used to draw us into a movie or story. But it is also a word we use nearly every single time we gather together for worship, which most of us -myself included –tend to skip right over without even thinking about it. 

On the night in which Jesus was betrayed, he took bread…blessed and broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying take and eat – this is my body, given for you. 

Did you remember that betrayal is present every time we gather for Holy Communion? I don’t typically. It’s so easy to skip over. But I think it deserves our attention. 

I wonder if you have ever been betrayed. By a friend or a family member, or perhaps by a job or an institution or a hope you’ve given your life to. Betrayal has the power to strip away the foundation and heart of a friendship in an instant. A recent article on betrayal said that it usually means the end of a relationship. The trauma and pain can be so toxic that it can’t survive. 

I wonder if you have ever been the one to betray another person. If so, then you probably know the greatest fear after a moment like that. The fear that there is nothing left. Everything has been stripped away and the relationship can’t survive.

One author has said that betrayal is what happens “when we don’t believe our lives matter… so we go looking for ways to make them matter.”[1] One way or another, we do something that centers and serves ourself and not the relationship. Sometimes we do it knowing exactly what we are doing. Other times we have no idea. Either way, it’s terrifying and devastating once we realize something good has been destroyed and there might not be anything left.  

As Christians, when we think about the betrayal of Jesus, it has too often been too easy to point the finger. Judas – he did it. 

But the gospel of John won’t let it be so easy. When Jesus says, “Very truly, I tell you – one of you will betray me” – the disciples don’t look at Judas, the one who throughout the gospel is described as the one who would betray him. No – they start to look around at each other and themselves. “Is it you? Is it me? Who is it?”

Which is the right question to be asking.

You see in the gospel of John, betrayal is not limited to one greedy act for money by Judas. Betrayal is to abandon the relationship. Something anyone of those disciples could do. Peter will do it in his denial in just a few chapters. Judas does it is when he leaves the room. Why not any of the rest of them? Why not any of us? It could be any one of us – and perhaps already has been throughout the course of our life of faith. 

And yet – look what Jesus does in the face of betrayal… On the night in which Jesus was betrayed, he took bread…blessed and broke it and gave it to his disciples, saying take and eat – this is my body, given for you…then he took the cup saying, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood.”

With betrayal in the air, Jesus gathered them around a table. And feeds them. 

And it’s not just any meal. It’s the Passover Meal. When Jesus and the disciples gathered, it was the night of Passover. A night when Jews celebrate with a meal called a seder, which commemorates and retells the story of the Israelites escape from Egypt. With Moses confronting the Pharaoh and the parting of the red sea for escape. 

To eat this Passover meal was to be not only reminded of God’s presence and saving acts in the past, but was to be given the covenant again and to be saved with God’s presence once again right now. A promise that says – I will go with you into the unknown. I will be with you.

But in the midst of betrayal, Jesus takes this meal a step further. Jesus takes the bread of the Passover meal and says, ‘This bread…this is my body, given for you. Take and eat.’ Jesus takes the wine – the cup of the meal and says, “This…this is my blood of the covenant, shed for you. Take and drink.” When Jesus does this, he is using sacrificial imagery. This might not sit well with us – but in Jesus’ day, everyone would have understood it…and everyone meal would have been would have been incredibly shocked by it.

You see, Jews were not supposed to consume blood. Blood is powerful. Blood is a symbol of the source of life. But here’s the thing – a Blood of the covenant in the Old Testament was a promise that established a bond between two parties – God and God’s people. It was a ritual that bound families and communities together.

On the night in which Jesus was betrayed, he takes the Passover meal and reinterprets it for his friends as a new covenant meal. A meal with God that binds them together, even in the midst of betrayal.

In just a moment, we will share in that meal together. This is a meal. Often when we come up for Communion, for many of us we are thinking about 100 others things, but this night we are reminded – This is how Jesus chose to spend his last night. This night he was betrayed by his friends. With a meal. A meal with God and a meal with each other. 

After this meal, for many churches, Maundy Thursday evening ends with a stripping of the altar. With the help of the altar guild, pastors carefully and loving snuff out and remove the candles, the worship book, the linens and the paraments. When everything is removed, what is left in this space is a bare and vulnerable, naked and not as imposing table. It seems almost a shame to see the altar table that way, and so when we are finished taking everything away, someone turns out the lights, and the congregation walks out in silence.[2]

We do that tonight. And at the end, when all is silent, I invite you to stay for just a moment longer and take it all in. Because all of Maundy Thursday is contained in that moment. In that bare, stripped-down table that remains.

A table that stands for Jesus, who through betrayal has and will be stripped of everything. A table that stands for those who have been reduced, in body or spirit, down to the bare bones of life, through our own betrayal and others. A table for us.

Betrayal tends to strip people down and dissolve relationships to a place where we fear there is nothing left.  Betrayal tends to lead to a death. The death of a relationship. But on Maundy Thursday, the night in which Jesus was betrayed, we discover that even when everything has been taken away, something remains.

A table.

A table that on the night in which he was betrayed – when everything in a relationship is stripped away, ruined and nothing is left, Jesus says, “Here, take this. Take my body. Take my blood. You have me. You have all of me. Tomorrow, I will hand myself over to death. Tonight, I hand myself over to you. You hold my very heart in your hands – my life, my life source, my covenant. And you have my promise. I will not betray you. You might betray me. You might betray one another. But I will not betray you. Take that into your body and carry it with you. Always.”


[1] Sam Wells, A Cross in the Heart of God, pg. 98.

[2] Adapted and paraphrased from Richard Lischer, https://www.christiancentury.org/article/2012-03/stripped-bare?utm_source=Christian+Century+Newsletter&utm_campaign=a8846d1e79-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_SCFree_2023-03-30&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_b00cd618da-a8846d1e79-82383455