I was reading the story of Jesus’ arrest this morning in the gospel of Mark. A verse I had never noticed before... never heard a sermon about... caught my eye. The crowd had arrived to arrest Jesus... Judas had delivered the betraying kiss... a servant’s ear had been cut off... the disciples fled as Jesus was arrested... and then this verse. "A certain young man was following Jesus, wearing nothing but a linen cloth. They caught hold of him, but he left the linen cloth and ran off naked". No other information is given... no resolution for his story... no names... no reason for his being there. I wonder who he was? Perhaps he lived near, heard the commotion in the night, wrapped himself in his bedspread and came to see what the fuss was about. He stayed after the disciples ran away... must not have known the danger he was in until they grabbed him. Whoever he was, he slipped away... long forgotten... unnamed... mysterious stranger in the middle of the crucifixion story.
The Bible does this sort of thing with regularity... shows you a part of the story and leaves you to fill in the blanks. God doesn’t make it easy for us... doesn’t provide a AAA triptych to heaven... no clearly marked maps... just bits and pieces... an incomplete treasure map. There is room for us to fill in the blanks and mark our own map to God.
Most of us have been curious enough... interested enough... lonely enough... to go to the garden looking for the Holy One. Most of the times I have gone searching for God have been times of great hurt, loss, grief, anger or despair just like the Garden of Gethsemane. Sometimes my search comes from a regular study or prayer practice. Once in a rare while, I see God’s face unexpectedly... Shimmering Loving Presence... revealed as a benediction... in nature... in the faces of children... in music... in the faces of those around me. I can count those times on the fingers of one hand... but they are enough.
Like the unnamed young man, the encounter with the Almighty leaves you naked... your whole self revealed... warts and all. Judgement Day... nothing can be concealed... all is known, loved, forgiven... I can be free at last, thank God, free at last. I am vulnerable without fear of hurt... known without fear of rejection... loved without fear of losing love... home to myself and to the Source of my creation. How I wish I could be that kind to myself... that honest... that open and unashamed with my deepest self. Instead, I run away from the revelation... the judgement... the forgiveness... the Love... the Life... to keep others ( but mostly myself) from seeing the real me, unclothed and unadorned.
Lent, properly observed, helps us catch glimpses of our real selves... the good, the bad and the ugly, the beautiful... gives us a ritual for preparation for death and true life... new life after the chaff has been blown away. Every year, we have a chance to start over. But one day, all this practice will have prepared us for our final Lent when we, like the young man, will stand in the Presence of God, stripped naked, our true selves, free from the bonds that have held us back... separated us from the Loving One who made us... waits for us... then and now... to come to ourselves and to come back Home.
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Ah, harkens me back to my Board of Ordained Ministry days when I commented on the nekkid man Mark's account of the arrest of Jesus, and the gathered clergy accused me of making him up. Funny the things that hide in the story, even from eyes that read it repeatedly. I, for one, have preached a sermon on his flash through the garden.
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