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| Cross in Chapel of Our Lord |
Rev. Molly F. James, PhD
Chapel of Our Lord, Episcopal Church Center
Wednesday in Holy Week, April 17, 2019
Our daughter is eight, and this winter she and I started reading the Little House Books by Laura Ingalls Wilder. These were absolute favorites of my childhood, and it has been a joy to share them with her. Currently we are in the middle of the third book, On the Banks of Plum Creek. If you are familiar with this book, then you know it is the book that has some tragedy in it. We are only a few chapters past the horrors of the grasshoppers. It reads like something out of the book of Exodus. The Ingalls family has staked their future and the house they are living in on a successful wheat harvest. A plague of grasshoppers arrives just days before the wheat is ready to harvest. The grasshoppers cover the landscape. The family tries to build fires around the wheat field. They work tirelessly and completely in vain to save their crop. The grasshoppers eat every plant for miles around. Charles Ingalls ends up having to walk 200 miles east to find work as a farmhand to earn enough money to keep the family from becoming completely destitute. I read that book many times as a child. I knew how the story went. And yet, even as I was reading it outloud to Katherine, I found myself wishing and willing for a different outcome. I somehow hoped (beyond all reason) that the story could go differently and the family could avert tragedy and loss.
Isn’t it remarkable that even when we know the story, even when we know how everything is going to turn out, we can still find ourselves wishing for a different ending? I don’t know about you, but I often find myself feeling that way at this point in Holy Week. We have had Palm Sunday. We have read the passion narrative. We are moving systematically through the story. Tomorrow will be Maundy Thursday, and then it will be Good Friday. We know where this is going. We know how painful it is going to get. We know that our Lord will give “his body to be whipped and his face to be spit upon.”
And yet, there is some small part of us that just might be wishing it could go differently. Does it really have to be like this we ask? Couldn’t Judas have found a different way? Why did he have to betray Jesus? It is a familiar dialogue, isn’t it?
Isn’t it the conversation we have with God when we encounter our own sufferings and challenges? In the midst of an experience where our buttons are pushed by a friend who sees the world differently than we do or in the midst of a new difficulty that is requiring us to draw on our reserves of strength and creativity. Or perhaps in the midst of a time that feels very dark and seemingly hopeless. We say, “God, if there is a way I could learn whatever important lesson I am supposed to be learning here without all this suffering that would be great. Okay? Thanks very much.”
Oh, if only that were true! If only we could just ask God for the cliff notes version. It is so very human of us to want the reward without the hard work. It is so understandable that we would want to find a better way forward that minimizes our suffering.
And yet, we know that is not how it goes. Suffering is a part of life. It will come. We cannot eat, exercise, medicate, or will ourselves a life free from suffering. It is not possible. Just as this story of Holy Week cannot unfold in any other way, there will be pieces of our lives over which we do not have control. We cannot control the weather. We cannot control the actions of other people. We cannot control when those we love will die. We cannot control everything about our own health and well being. There will be suffering that will just come.
And yet, I do think there is an important distinction to make here. Our Collect for today asks that we might have “grace to accept joyfully the sufferings of the present time.” That is a statement that can only be made from a position of privilege, and I do not think it is a fully accurate description of what it means to be a follower of Jesus. Yes, there is much to be learned in the midst of our suffering. Yes, there is suffering (death, disease, natural disasters) that is endemic to the human experience. We will have to find ways to cope with it. AND, there is also suffering that is the result of injustice. There is suffering that is the result of systemic oppression. Suffering that is the result of the very human sins of sexism, racism, classism, etc. This is suffering that should NOT be. This is the suffering we Christians, especially those of us who are in positions of power and privilege are called to do something about. This suffering is not to be accepted joyfully. It is to be named, called out, and stopped.
So, I want to go back to that feeling we get when we are wanting a story to turn out differently. Sometimes that is just wishful thinking on our part, particularly when we are reading a history book. But when it happens to us in the here and now, when we look at a situation and have a niggling feeling that things should be different that feeling is worth noting, worth paying attention to. Because it just might be the Holy Spirit inviting us to be a force for transformation in the world.
We cannot go back and redo the story of Holy Week. BUT we can use the story of this week to be an inspiration for us to act differently in our own lives. The realities of betrayal and innocent suffering are real in our world. Greed and selfishness can cause people in power to act without regard for the implications of their actions. Innocent people are punished for crimes they did not commit. Far too many people spend their days being made to feel less than because of their race, religion, gender, sexual orientation, ethnicity . . .you name it.
We cannot change the story of Holy Week, but we can change our lives and the lives of those around us. May we have the grace and courage to do just that, today and everyday.
AMEN.
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