If there were ever a time that the Church needs eyes to see and ears to hear what the Spirit is saying, that time is now. God wants us to live daily with our spiritual ears open and eyes illuminated. Keith Miller

If there were ever a time that the Church needs eyes to see and ears to hear what the Spirit is saying, that time is now. God wants us to live daily with our spiritual ears open and eyes illuminated. Keith Miller

A rare afternoon ride today. Beautiful weather. Lots of other riders out and about enjoying the public holiday.

APRIL 14, 2022BY ARCHBISHOP BORYS GUDZIAK
As Ukraine is being crucified by the enemy, millions of its people go through the same experience of darkness and a sense of the absence of God as Jesus did on the cross. Let us not doubt that God is with the suffering and that his truth, peace, and love will prevail.

Christians of different traditions begin Lent on different dates. For Ukrainians of all denominations, their spiritual pilgrimage this spring started on February 24 at 4 AM. War and Lent have been deeply intertwined this year.
Lent is a time to discern evil, especially in one’s own life. Understanding violent and destructive passions is difficult amid the modern world’s comfortable, soft circumstances. For centuries, the Church’s tradition has helped us detach from worldly comforts during the Lenten journey through fasting, prayer, and works of charity. The war in Ukraine has given Lent a deeper resonance. Violence and suffering, sin and evil, compassion and sacrifice, virtue and heroism reveal themselves. War was something known to the monks of Constantinople and Jerusalem who wrote the prayers and hymns for our Lenten journey. And it was known to generations of our ancestors. But now we experience war in Lent first-hand.
His Beatitude Sviatoslav Shevchuk, Head of the Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church, also reflected on Ukraine’s violence-hewn Lent in his address on April 5, 2022, the 41st day of the war.
The Christian faith teaches us not to turn our eyes away from God who became human, from God whom humans dishonored, crucified, and killed in the most shameful way. The Christian faith teaches us to honor the wounds of Christ, to kiss them, because we know that by His wounds we are healed [cf. Isaiah 53:5], as the Prophet Isaiah writes.
These days Ukraine is experiencing her Golgotha, her crucifixion. Today I ask all of us—all Christians of the whole world, all people of goodwill—not to turn your eyes away from the humiliation and suffering, the death and wounds of Ukraine. . . . Just a few tens of kilometers from the center of Kyiv we see today hundreds of dead who were shot in the back of the head. We see the wounds of the Ukrainian people.
This Lent has made reality clearer to me than ever. The work of evil, the wicked will of the Enemy of humankind, and the frailty of our human nature are on display. We witness Adam’s grab. Adam had all the trees and their fruit in the garden of Eden. God the Giver gave Adam everything he needed. And yet, he decided not to live with God and be like God the Giver. Despite being forewarned, he decided to grab that which would lead to his death.
Grace amid Horror
Today we witness the leader of a contemporary empire that extends across eleven time zones grab for more. Unprovoked, he decides to invade a sovereign, independent country. In the account of Christ’s Passion, we see that Judas, blinded by greed, stretches out his arm to snatch silver in exchange for the Savior. These are different episodes of the same story of human sin. All of them lead to death.
Yet Easter gives us hope for salvation and new life. God repeats and renews His gift. Amid the brutality and horrors, there are many signs of grace. In this world, which is characterized by compulsive self-reference and the dictatorship of relativism, we see people giving their lives for others and for the truths of dignity, freedom, and justice. Ukrainians are demonstrating that greatest love defined by our Lord in John 15:13: “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” As we recall and celebrate the salvific sacrifice completed on the Cross, we see the sacrifice of our contemporaries—brothers and sisters in Ukraine, military and civilians—who are willing to give their lives to protect the innocent. Through their sacrifice, we get a glimpse into the sacrifice of the Son of God once more.
Holy Week’s rich liturgical traditions help us understand reality. As Father Alexander Schmemann noted, in our liturgical celebrations, we do not merely remember past events. The power of liturgy is that it “transforms remembrance into reality.” Lazarus Saturday, celebrated by Byzantine-rite Christians on the day before Palm Sunday, places before us the reality of death. “It stinketh,” Jesus is told as he approaches Lazarus in the tomb. Schmemann writes that at the grave of Lazarus, God encounters Death, “the reality of anti-life, of destruction and despair.” Jesus weeps “because He contemplates the triumph of death and destruction in the world created by God.”
At the beginning of April, the world was shocked by the dreadful images of bodies and violence discovered in Bucha, Borodianka, Irpin, and other towns near Kyiv; these were people Russian soldiers slaughtered during the weeks of occupation. We see death’s ugly face. And we weep as Jesus did. In the recent words of Bishop Erik Varden, “His tears show him aggrieved, indignant at the scandal of death’s reign in beings made for immortality, who long for paradise lost and lost friendship. Having wept, he goes up to Calvary to work our redemption.” The deaths Ukraine is experiencing bring the reality of Christian liturgy into full view.
After Jesus’s glorious entry into Jerusalem, we begin Holy Week by remembering the Lord’s last days on the earth before his salvific Passion and death. But the death on Great Friday will not be the closing of our week. Holy Week will be crowned by the feast of the Resurrection. The Resurrection provides all-important perspective on the suffering that Jesus, the Innocent One, endured.
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It is almost impossible for us today to capture the strangeness of mentioning, let alone celebrating, the crucifixion of Jesus.
In the first century, “crucifixion” was not a metaphor. No one said, “Oh, man, I got crucified at work today”. In fact, Roman etiquette books reminded people to never mention crucifixion in polite company.
Crucifixion was cruel and unusual by design. The whole theatre of it was all calculated to bring you shame.
Crucifixion was cruel and unusual by design. The whole theatre of it—the nakedness, the loss of control of bodily functions, the slowness of the death, the public spectacle as you were thrust up into the view of all—it was all calculated to bring you shame. No Roman citizen could be crucified. It was reserved for non-citizens, for slaves, and for outlaws. The Romans would happily decapitate a citizen who had committed a serious crime, but not crucify them. Come on! We have standards, people!
Those who were crucified bore on themselves the full weight of Rome’s military might and judicial power. As their bodies were left to rot or become food for birds, they were a reminder to the rest of what happens to those who challenge Roman order.
For a Jewish person, crucifixion had an additional layer of meaning. In the Old Testament law, anyone who was “hung” on a tree (or a cross) was “under God’s curse” (Deuteronomy 21:23). A Jewish person reading their Scriptures and looking at a body nailed to a cross didn’t have to wonder what it might mean. It already meant something. It meant they were under God’s curse.
Crucifixion wasn’t an empty vessel, waiting for Christians to fill it with meaning. It already meant something. Loser. Non-person. Cursed by God. These are the essential meanings of crucifixion. In the Christian faith, we are not stepping into a semantic vacuum, trying to argue that the crucifixion of Jesus meant something after all. We are arguing that it means something else. But what?
The clue is back there in the next part of that poem by Isaiah:
Surely he took up our pain and bore our suffering,
yet we considered him punished by God, stricken by him, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on him, and by his wounds we are healed. (Isaiah 53:4-5)
The Christian faith addressed the problem of the meaning of the cross, not by going around it, but by going through it. Cursed? Yes! Punished? Yes! Crushed? Yes! But why? For our pain and suffering. Our transgression. Our iniquity.
God in Christ stands where we should have stood, receives the punishment we should have received, died the death we should have died.
The pulsating heart of the Christian faith is right here. God in Christ stands where we should have stood, receives the punishment we should have received, died the death we should have died. He takes our place. The righteous for the unrighteous, to bring us back to God.
Jesus, in his burial, died the death of the creature, and the death of sinners. By slowing down at the point of Christ’s death, the [Apostle’s] Creed invites us to linger over the mystery of the incarnation. Fully, completely, actually, without having to cross your fingers or squint or look sideways, Jesus, the Son of God, died. As the early church fathers never tired of saying of Jesus, “That which he did not assume, he could not heal.” Jesus did not conduct his mission in a Hazchem suit. He completely identified with our humanity in order to heal all of our humanity. Humans go to their graves as finite creatures and guilty sinners. Jesus went there too, not as a guilty sinner, but as a saviour.
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It’s more important for us to embrace truth than to be right or wrong. If we’ll always embrace truth, we’ll go from wave to wave of His Spirit’s move, or from glory to glory in the Lord. Keith Miller

A breezy and cool morning. Due to a 9 am appointment I took a shorter route today.

Abundant living doesn’t mean having a nice home or cars, even though there’s nothing wrong with those things. Abundant life means God is doing things through our lives that are extraordinarily above and beyond what we can do. Keith Miller

Scripture
Then the disciple who had reached the tomb first also went in, and he saw and believed.
Observation
Sunday, after the crucifixion, the women go to Jesus’ tomb. The stone has been rolled away from the entrance. Mary Magdalene goes to tell Peter. Peter and John go to the tomb, and they see the linen wrappings. John sees and believes.
Mary looks in the tomb and sees two angels. She asks them where Jesus is. Then Jesus comes up behind her, and she asks Him the same thing.
Jesus says her name, and suddenly she recognises Him. John tells her to go and tell the disciples what she has seen and that He is to ascend to the Father.
Application
They say that seeing is believing. When John and Peter saw the empty tomb, they finally understood what Jesus had meant by his teaching about the resurrection.
It seemed like impossibly good news. The Jesus who had died is now alive.
It is good news because the resurrection validates all that Jesus stands for. It shows that He has overcome sin and death. Because Christ is alive, we can share in His resurrection, and be assured that we will live forever.
Prayer
Thank you Lord for the promise of eternal life. This present life is not all that I have, but I shall live with you forever. Nothing in this life can take that away from me. Amen
Good to get out again this morning, despite the threat of rain.
