Things hidden

Those of you who know me IRL, know that I love icons. The parish church where Beloved Husband and I had our marriage solemnized had many icons in the nave. I spent a semester in seminary with the Greek Orthodox where I was introduced to more icons and the realities they represent. This one is one of my favorites ...

It's called the Anastasis icon in Greek but others call it the Harrowing of Hell. It is the icon of Holy Saturday in the Orthodox tradition. In it, Christ is shown raising Adam and Eve out of their graves. On the left of the image are King David, King Solomon and John the Baptist - all Jesus' ancestors/kin in this life. On the right side is a young Moses with the staff, Elijah and another unnamed prophet representing the prophetic tradition of Israel. Below Jesus' feet are the gates of Hell skewed at an angle because they are forever broken. Below that are broken shackles, chains, and keys representing the liberated souls who have been redeemed and released from Death. Finally, there is one skeletal figure still bound up under the feet of Christ - that's Death itself personified.

Christ is risen from the dead
Trampling down death by death
And to those in the tombs
He is restoring life

In the Western Church, we often think of Holy Saturday as a day when Jesus "rested in the tomb." This icon reminds us that there was more going on than met the eye! Christ was not resting at all - he was destroying death forever.

It is a reminder to us that when it appears on the surface of our lives that nothing much is happening or perhaps we find ourselves stuck ... God in Christ is doing something beyond what we can perceive in the moment. What we can see is only a small and limited view. There is more going on that meets the eye!

Scapegoat

When he has finished atoning for the holy place and the tent of meeting and the altar, he shall present the live goat. Then Aaron shall lay both his hands on the head of the live goat, and confess over it all the iniquities of the people of Israel, and all their transgressions, all their sins, putting them on the head of the goat, and sending it away into the wilderness by means of someone designated for the task. The goat shall bear on itself all their iniquities to a barren region; and the goat shall be set free in the wilderness. (Leviticus 16:20-22)

This is the passage from Leviticus from which we get the term "scapegoat." The goat bore the guilt, shame and sins of the people on their behalf and it was driven into the wilderness on the Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur). It was a cleansing ritual so that the people could go on with their lives with a sense of wholeness and a burden being lifted.

But what about the goat? Live long enough, and you'll end up being a symbolic scapegoat for something. Anyone who has been a change agent in their workplace often finds themselves playing the role of the scapegoat! The sins of past inactions, poor policies, and bad decisions get heaped on the one who is trying to make a difference until they are driven out of the group. It is certainly much easier to dump our sins onto another and then drive that person out when they begin to shed light on our sins. But, does this ever cause us to repent of the underlying sin and return to a wholeness of relationship?

One way to understand Jesus' death on the cross was as an atoning death. On him was the sin of all humanity laid and for our sins he died. We still hear language like this in the Church. Jesus was certainly a change agent and, in his ministry, he shed light on the systemic sins of his culture. "... it is better for you to have one man die for the people than to have the whole nation destroyed," said Caiaphas (John 11:50). This certainly bears the marks of a scapegoat.

Jesus' death was more than this because of his resurrection. The scapegoat returned! Jesus' resurrection reminds us that we cannot run away from our sins or heap them onto someone else and hope they just go away. Jesus' resurrection is God's reconciling love in action. There are no scapegoats in reconciliation - nobody is driven into the wilderness to die. Even in the midst of our sinfulness (and yeah, there's plenty of that for all of us), we are promised through the resurrection that we will be reconciled back to God ... and to each other.

Now back to our regularly scheduled programming ...

It does seem like the first full week of the Easter season is like going back to our regularly scheduled programming, doesn't it? For those of us who are highly involved in the church, whether lay or ordained, Holy Week seems to put us in a form of "suspended animation" where the rhythm of our lives is disrupted - even if only for a brief intense few days.

But now we're back. Back to the regular routine of school and work, back to household chores (and boy did that laundry pile get out of control last week!), back to writing papers to finish up that pesky M.Div. so I can get ordained.

St. Paul says, "So then, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; what is old has passed away– look, what is new has come!" (2 Corinthians 5.17). But what happens when Easter feels like a resurrection back to the same life rather than something totally different?

For me, this is the trap of looking for some miraculous mountaintop or lightening bolt kind of experience to affirm my faith in Christ. I don't know of a time when I wasn't a Christian. Sure, I've had conversions (note that's plural!) along my journey, but the vast majority of the time, my call is to find the extraordinary in the ordinary.

I'll admit, finding God's presence in the pile of dirty laundry is a challenge; however, I learned a lot from an obscure monk named Brother Lawrence. In a little book entitled, The Practice of the Presence of God, Brother Lawrence was interviewed by Joseph de Beaufort, a counsel to the Archbishop of Paris. These conversations were recorded and published in this small book in 1691 (you can print a copy from the link above).

Brother Lawrence's aim was to live a life in constant conversation with God and that God's presence is in and through all things - even the most mundane tasks. Lawrence is my kind of guy - he really didn't like being assigned to work in the kitchen (cooking's not my gift either). But by setting his heart on doing everything for God, even the tasks he didn't like became a joy instead of a burden.

So I'm looking for God in the laundry room. I've no doubt God is there.