Judging Pilate

In Christianity Pontius Pilate is remembered nefariously, almost as a stereotype of evil. I've wondered about that. I have no illusions about the man; he was a Roman, after all. He had concerns about his position of being procurator. He had a job to do, and he was committed to doing it, even though he didn't want to be in
Jerusalem; but there he was.

Thrust upon the stage of history in “virtue” of this political position, he had an enviable conversation with an itinerant prophet. His question about “What is truth?” echoes through the ages. Christ’s answer is not recorded. Perhaps He told Pilate that He was the way, the truth, and the life. Pilate did understand one fact though, that Jesus was an innocent man, and he asserted this to the chief priests.

Within the parameters of his position, he tried to save Christ. He offered Barabbas as a possibility for release to slake the bloodthirstiness of the crowd. In that case he didn't seem to want to put Christ to death; and yet, he had Christ scourged.

Most, if not all, men would not have survived that punishment. Did he think that because Jesus claimed to be God, that He wouldn't die? He sent Christ to Herod, passing Him off to another ruler, so that Pilate wouldn't have the responsibility of taking His life, or was it because his wife, Claudia, cautioned him about not having to have anything to do with this man because of her disturbing dreams? In the end he washed his hands “of the blood of this innocent man.”

In the end, practicality won out. Pilate didn't need a bad report sent to Tiberius about yet another altercation with the Jewish leadership. He caved in; he didn't want to lose his job. Fear stalked him. When I realized this, I understood that we all have a bit of Pilate inside of us. Whenever we are paralyzed from doing something, saying something, achieving something because we are afraid of losing our standing at work, being ridiculed or held in disdain or doing a difficult job itself, we are having “a Pilate moment.” Some of the research postulates that Pilate later became a Christian. In the Ethiopian Orthodox Tewahedo Church he is cast as a saint. Certainly, it is not out of the realm of possibility to think that he had a conversion as St. Paul did. However, other sources state that he committed suicide. We will never know.

All of this—his conversation with Christ, his concern over his job, his refusal to take responsibility for Christ’s death, even refusing to change the inscription on the cross, breaks Pilate out of his stereotype of his being purely evil, and shows us that his constitution makes him more of a person like you and me, prey to many of the same emotions and motivations, not purely evil, but a sinner all the same.

If Pilate became a Christian, then he ultimately came to recognize Christ as more than just a man, and perhaps like St. Peter, he spent the rest of his life asking for forgiveness.

I’m not as quick to judge Pilate anymore because of our shared humanity. I too sin, want to be forgiven, and hope in divine forgiveness. Perhaps Pontius Pilate did the same, even if I am fanciful in thinking it might be so.

- S. Becker

Philippians 2:5 Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus, 6 who, thought he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited. 7 but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, being born in human likeness. And being found in human form.

Although I have gone through such an experience a few times, I sense that few others, even those on a path to advise others on spiritual matters, have experienced this sense of genuine emptiness. Even those who have achieved it realize that it lasts for just a few minutes, and the afterglow rarely lasts for more than a few days. Persisting in the feeling of being in this state of grace requires constant maintenance, not unlike needing insulin to ward off the progress of diabetes. This reveals the importance of both daily prayer and especially centering prayers without words, that is, prayers with non-verbal focuses for one’s attention.

Moat: It is hard to fill a cup that is already full.

Jake Sully: My cup is empty. Trust me. – Avatar.

The Gate of Praise

I was recently struck by a Scripture verse that I happened to read in passing.  It was Isaiah 60:18b:  “You will call your walls Salvation and your gates Praise” (Isaiah 60:18b, NIV).   The chapter from which this verse is taken is a description of the wonderful things that God is going to do for His people, the people of Zion.  It may refer primarily to God’s actions in the new age at the end of time, but I think this particular verse also can apply, in a very real way, to our relationship with God here and now.  So often in our lives, the hurts and disappointments we experience lead us to create barriers that hamper our relationship with God and others, walls built upon our feelings of guilt and shame.  Our own willfulness or selfishness can also be a barrier to open and honest communion with God and with those whom we love.  Walls are built and the gates to true intimacy and trust are closed. 

How can we break down these walls and open our hearts to true relationship again?  I think that living in praise to God is a key to making this happen.  Praise is a gateway to God and to a deeper relationship with the Trinity.  The practice of seeing God in each person, in all things, and continually lifting up our hearts in praise can lead us out of our selves, break down unnecessary walls, and open new doors that lead us into the fullness of life God desires for us.  It is an attitude that takes time and patience to cultivate, and needs to be continually practiced.  However, it is most important to remember that Christ has already broken through the barriers of sin and death.  He has opened for us the door to new life in Him, in God.  Praising God for this gift of new life—and for the new life to be found everywhere—can lead us through the Door to salvation and abundant life in Him.  I Peter 2:9 says:  “you are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that you should show forth the praises of him who has called you out of darkness into his marvelous light”.  May God help us to live a life of praise, to walk through the Door of Christ who is our Way, and may we—as individuals and as a church community—be a gateway to God for others. 

Endings….and beginnings

“I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty. Rev. 1:8

Last grant of the season is finished.

Last week of Lent is almost completed.

We have put away the winter coats and boots (while still gazing suspiciously into the gray sky).

Start to plan for wrapping up Sunday School and Forum.

At this time of year, I feel the satisfaction that faculty and students feel as they contemplate two semesters almost completed, with the end of the academic year in sight. A few days till Easter and then a few weeks till Pentecost, and, in a way, the church’s “school year” is over. In my mind, Trinity Sunday is like graduation. At least in this parish, where it is our patronal feast day, and we often celebrate with a picnic after the service.

Awareness of the endings opens the possibility for wonderful new beginnings: summer vacation, long-awaited summer workshops, a new Vacation Bible School program, time and space to think and plan. And pray. The delight and rapture of Easter seeps through the solemnity of Holy Week

Sometimes there is a sadness when I contemplate endings. But when I couple the endings with the beginnings, the feeling is quite different. I wonder if the sense of anticipation and scent of incoming freshness is the gift of a God who is both the beginning and the ending?

--Laura Howell

“If you focus on what needs to be changed, your brain will start scanning for things that are wrong and see more and more of them and change will be hard. If you focus on a core value and tie the changes to that, when the value will function as its own center of gravity and change will be easy.” This was the opening to a class on diversity and multiculturalism a few weeks ago. It was also the week following the first Sunday of Lent, so, of course, my brain made connections. Change is hard. Change, if done right, should be easy. We enter Lent with the expectation of being changed (or, at least, renewed.) We focus on our flawed selves, our mortality, our sin, but also on God, eternity, forgiveness. What value grounds us in that walk through the wilderness and onward through Holy Week and into Easter?

I think that I struggle with Lent each year because the focus can to often be on what is wrong, the flaws, the sin, to the extent that the real focus can be obscured. How does one turn the focus from the myriad ways that we turn away from God and back onto God, totally and completely? It seems to me that Jesus, the One Who we follow into this desert, made it clear that our core value is to be love: love of God, love of neighbor, and love of each other. That seems so simple, yet we make it so difficult. Individually I know that I am guilty of anger, pettiness, self-centeredness, and fear, all of which blunt the capacity to love and obscure my vision of God and of others. Collectively the church as a whole cracks under the weight of centuries of putting its emphasis in the wrong places. Yet God loves us and fills us and uses us, alone and together, in spite of ourselves, and, in spite of ourselves, we are changed and we even become change.

O God, as I near the end of this walk through the Lenten wilderness, let me keep my eyes fixed on you. Water my barren soul, when change is hard. Let me rest in you, that change may be easy. Within my heart and in my world, may spring come by your hand and the desert bloom. Amen.

- Kathleen Knaack

Hunger

I long for your salvation, O LORD,*

and your law is my delight.

 Let me live, and I will praise you,*

and let your judgments help me.

I have gone astray like a sheep that is lost;*

search for your servant, for I do not forget your commandments.

-Psalm 119:174-176

On a rare Monday off, I find I am able to drink a full cup of coffee while it is still hot and relish in the Sunday New York Times. I love the book reviews and the crossword. I love reading Sunday in review and catching up on all the news that does not bleed into this house of no television. This is usually our Sunday ritual after church but time has been tight the past few months and often the newspaper sit unopened until Wednesday, when with guild I open it and try desperately to read as much as possible. Some days all I seem to see are articles on greed, war, fashion, and hate crimes. Today is different. I see with rested eyes. Inside I find a piece I might not have seen had I been in a hurry. It’s an article on the research of how when we are hungry, we are more likely to translate words and images and perceive them as being related to food.  The study finds this holds true for moral hunger as well. We see what we desire most. 

God, help me to remember that what is most important to me is what I will see in the world.  Help me to hunger for what is good and right and true and lovely.  Amen.

- Ellyn Siftar 

Impatiently Waiting

"O Israel, wait for the LORD, for with the LORD there is mercy; with him there is plenteous redemption, and he shall redeem Israel from all their sins." - Psalm 130:6-7

We're an impatient bunch, we humans. It is perhaps most especially true in an age when we can get information delivered to the palms of our hands almost instantly, we don't like to wait, for anything. We want what we want, and we want it NOW, because there are far too many things which just have to be done to waste any time waiting.

But... what if we stopped to wait, just for a moment? What might we see? Might we even encounter Jesus himself, offering us the mercy and redemption we tend to forget is there amid the busy-ness of our daily life and work?

My favorite musical setting of Psalm 130 comes from John Rutter's Requiem. It begins with a solo cello undergirding the alto and bass voices, with what the composer himself calls a, "knocking at the door." While he is fairly clear that he intended it as an echo of humanity's knocking at God's door, it might also be taken as God knocking on OUR door. The only answer to that can be as the Psalmist has it, that with him there is plenteous redemption, and that our very act of responding to God's presence places us squarely in the camp of the redeemed.

You can listen to the piece here, and watch Mr. Rutter explain the process of composition here.

- Amy+