Lenten Riff for Holy Week, 2025

 It was almost time for the Passover celebration—the Wednesday before the Passover meal at sundown on Thursday. Jesus was keenly aware of what this Passover meant for him. He would be arrested by the religious leaders, tried by the Sanhedrin, delivered to Pilate and the Roman court where he would be condemned and sentenced to die by crucifixion.

Jesus had spent the early part of the week focused on the Jewish nation and the Temple. On Sunday, he had entered Jerusalem in a parade that proclaimed him to be the long-awaited Messiah. On Monday (according to Mark’s gospel—Mark 11:12-19), he had taken charge of the Temple compound by driving out those who were buying and selling sacrificial animals. Jesus returned to the Temple on Tuesday (Mark 11:20, 27) where once again he took charge. In doing so, he defied the authority of the Sadducees—the priestly class—who were responsible for the Temple (Mark 11:27-12:12). His actions fueled their seething animosity. They joined ranks with their religious and political enemies—the Pharisees and Herodians—in seeking a way to get rid of him (Mark 12:12-13). Jesus spent Tuesday teaching in the courtyard and fielding off the attempts by his adversaries to trap him (Mark 12:13-44).

On Wednesday and Thursday, Jesus turned his attention to his disciples. He once again sought to prepare them for what he knew was coming. Throughout their six-week journey from Galilee to Jerusalem, Jesus had been telling them what would happen to him in Jerusalem. He would be betrayed, arrested, brought to trial, and condemned to death. As a result, he would be crucified (Mark 8:31; 9:30-32; 10:32-34). Frustratingly, the disciples could not hear—much less accept—what he was saying. So, on Wednesday and Thursday of that Passover week, he once again sought to help them hear what they did not want to hear. An unplanned event on Wednesday provided an opportunity for him to do so.

Jesus was at a dinner in the home of Simon the leper (Mark 14:3-9) when he was approached by an unnamed woman. As she stood over Jesus, the woman broke open an alabaster jar of expensive ointment and anointed Jesus’s head. Her actions stirred angry reactions from some of the dinner guests—was it some of the disciples? They scolded the woman—reprimanded her—declaring the ointment was wasted and could have been better used by selling it and giving the proceeds to the poor.

As he often did in such situations, Jesus came to the defense of the woman. He reframed what the woman had done from a waste of money to “a good service” (Mark 14:6). He saw in her actions the anointing of his body for burial (Mark 14:8). He went on to say the woman would always be remembered for what she had done.

We don’t know if the disciples understood Jesus’s reference to his death. After all, they did not want to hear that he would die. Death did not fit into their narrative of him as the Messiah. It seems, though, that Judas understood as he left the dinner and “went to the chief priests in order to betray him to them” (Mark 14:10).

It was Wednesday before the Passover—Wednesday of our Holy Week—when Judas made his pact with the religious leaders to betray Jesus into their hands. “So he began to look for an opportunity to betray him” (Mark 14:11). That opportunity would come after the Passover meal when Jesus and the disciples went to their familiar retreat in Gethsemane in order to pray.

Once again, the disciples become an opportunity to see ourselves during this Lenten journey. Their resistance to what Jesus sought to teach them raises questions for us to consider as we come to the end our Lenten journey: what of Jesus’s teachings do we not want to hear? What “narrative” do we cling to that blocks our willingness and ability to hear what he teaches? What will it take for us to hear what we don’t want to hear?

Lenten Prayer: Lord, give us ears to hear.

Lenten Riff for Week 5, 2025

 It’s an unusual story—one found only in the gospel of Mark (Mark 8:22-26). It is a healing story that required a second touch. Of all the healing stories found in the gospels, this is the only one in which a second touch was required for the healing to be complete.

At Bethsaida, people brought a blind man to Jesus so Jesus could heal him. When Jesus anointed the man’s eyes and touched them, he asked the man: “Can you see anything?” (Mark 8:23). The man replied, “I can see people, but they look like trees, walking” (Mark 8:24). Jesus then touched the man’s eyes again. After this second touch, the man “saw everything clearly” (Mark 8:26).

The fact that Mark’s gospel alone relates the story indicates the story had significance for the gospel writer. The author placed the story in the middle of his gospel—halfway through it—so that it divided the gospel into two sections. Those two sections correspond to the two-staged healing of the blind man. Before Jesus’s touch, he was blind. After the first touch, he could see, but not clearly. After the second touch, the man could then see clearly.

In my mind, the blind man is a metaphor for the disciples. In the first half of the gospel, they were blind. They did not recognize who Jesus was (Mark 4:41) nor could they understand what he taught them (Mark 8:17-21). Immediately after the miracle, they recognized Jesus was the Messiah (Mark 8:27-30). They were now able to see, but they did not yet see clearly. They could not accept what Jesus taught them about the suffering the Messiah was to experience (Mark 8:31-33). A second touch would be required for them to see clearly. That second touch would come in the resurrection.

This metaphor-story points to a central truth about discipleship—a truth reflected in our Lenten journey. Discipleship is about learning to see clearly. It is about learning the ways of God Jesus taught. A key part of that learning process is letting go of and moving beyond the way the world trained us to think. This “letting go” dimension of learning is reflected in Mark’s healing story.

In the story, Jesus led the blind man out of the village in order to heal him (Mark 8:23). Taking the story as a metaphor (rather than literally), the village represents the culture in which the man lived—what we call “the world.” In order to learn what Jesus would teach him—that is, for him to “see”—the man had to get outside of how his culture had trained him to think. He had to move beyond the world’s way of thinking and living. Learning the ways of God Jesus taught leads us beyond how the world trained us to think and beyond the thinking that governs how the world operates. Note that once the man could see clearly—that is, once he understood the ways of God Jesus taught—Jesus commanded him to not go back to the world’s way of thinking: “Do not even go into the village” (Mark 8:26).

The gospel of Mark portrays discipleship was a journey in which we move from how the world trained us to think and live into thinking that is shaped by the teachings of Jesus. The Lenten journey reminds us of this ever-recurring learning process in which we move from being blind to seeing, but not clearly, to seeing clearly.

Prayer for the Lenten journey: Open our eyes, Lord Jesus, that we may see. Touch our eyes again and again until we see clearly.

Week 4 of the Lenten Journey, 2025

 One of the most difficult aspects of learning is the challenge of unlearning—moving beyond how we have been trained to think, letting go of what we already believe. We cannot embrace a new, different way of thinking as long as we cling to an old way of thinking.

We see this reality in the twelve as they journeyed with Jesus toward Jerusalem for the Passover celebration. Along the way, Jesus repeatedly told them what he would experience in Jerusalem—betrayal, arrest, trial, mockery, flogging, crucifixion, and death … but on the third day he would be raised from the dead (Mark 8:31; 9:30-32; 10:32-34). The twelve could not hear, much less accept, what he was saying. Instead of questioning and exploring what he was saying, they argued among themselves as to which of them was the greatest (Mark 9:33-34). Viewing one another as competitors, they jockeyed for hoped-for positions of status and power (Mark 10:35-41). Their old way of thinking blocked their ability to learn the new way of thinking—the ways of the kingdom—that Jesus was attempting to teach them.

In order to teach them a different way of thinking, Jesus had to confront the way the world had trained them to think—the thinking that fueled their arguing and jockeying for position.

“You know that among the Gentiles those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. but it is not so among you, but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all. For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many” (Mark 10:42-25).

Jesus’s teaching draws a clear contrast between the ways of the kingdom and the ways of the world—specifically, between how power is used in the kingdom and how power is used in the world.

In the world—among the Gentiles—power is used over, down against others, for personal benefit at the other’s expense. It is used in self-serving ways with no regard for others. Jesus adamantly said this way of using power is not the way of the kingdom—“it is not so among you!” In the kingdom, power is used to serve. It is used alongside another, on their behalf, seeking their wholeness and wellbeing, even when it comes at cost to oneself. In the kingdom, power is used the way a servant uses power. This servant use of power is not only what Jesus taught; it is how he lived—“the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”

The disciples could not grasp this different way of thinking. Their old way of thinking blocked their ability to learn what Jesus was teaching them.

Ironically, how we think generally lies outside of our awareness. It functions as our automatic pilot, unconsciously governing what we do. We generally cannot recognize how we have been trained to think until we are confronted with thinking that challenges it—as in the teachings of Jesus.

Learning—understanding, accepting, and embracing a new way of thinking—requires us to recognize and consciously choose to move beyond our old way of thinking. To get there, we have to move beyond our defensive reactions to and knee-jerk rejection of that which is different from how we think. We have to be willing to reflect, to examine, to explore that which challenges our thinking. Learning requires a teachable spirit that trusts the Spirit to guide and teach.

As we continue to walk this Lenten journey, may the Spirit cultivate in us a teachable spirit—one that is willing to learn the ways of the kingdom even though those ways challenge how the world trained us to think.

Prayer for the Lenten journey: “Teach me your way, O LORD, that I may walk in your truth” (Psalm 86:11).

Week 3 of the 2025 Lenten Journey

 As they made their way toward Jerusalem for the Passover celebration, the tension among the Twelve grew steadily. They had already argued as to which of them was the greatest (Mark 9:33-34). Jesus addressed their argument by teaching them a servant spirit was how greatness was measured in the kingdom (Mark 9:35-37). His teaching, however, did not end their argument. It just pushed it underground. It is not surprising, then, that the tension erupted again. This time, it surfaced in anger, creating division among them as the ten turned on James and John (Mark 10:41).

The anger and division were triggered by what James and John did. Note: what they did triggered the division; it did not cause it. The cause of the division was the competition among them over who was the greatest.

James and John had approached Jesus in private to ask for a special privilege. Anticipating that Jesus would declare himself to be the Messiah when they arrived in Jerusalem (which reflected how little they knew him or understood his teachings), James and John had asked to be given the two key positions in the kingdom he would set up—“Grant us to sit, one on your right hand and one at your left, in your glory” (Mark 10:37). Their request was a continuation of the earlier argument about who was the greatest. It was an attempt to cut Peter out of consideration as he seemingly took on a leadership posture among the twelve. They argued that they, as Jesus’s cousins, would be better suited than Peter to serve alongside Jesus as his most trusted aides. (Their mother was a sister to the mother of Jesus.)

When the other disciples learned what James and John had done, they predictably reacted with anger. They were not just mad; they were furious.

Once again, the disciples are a mirror that helps us see ourselves. We see in them the conflict and division we experience politically in our nation as well as in our personal relationships. More importantly, we see the thinking that gives birth to such conflict and division.

On the surface, conflict and division appear to be about our differences. In reality, they are about how we think about our differences. Conflict and division are the natural expressions of the way the world has trained us to think.

The thinking that unconsciously shapes our lives and our society divides the world into us-them categories. It uses differences to separate us, ignoring how we are alike. In the division that developed between James and John and the other ten disciples, the difference had to do with family ties. James and John had them with Jesus; Peter—and none of the other nine, for that matter—did not. The diversity God designed into the world offers us an unlimited source of differences we can use to divide ourselves into us-them categories—and, it seems, we take advantage of many (most) of them: ethnicity/race (white supremacy), gender (patriarchy), sexuality (anti-LGBTQ), religion (Christian nationalism), political positions (MAGA/Libs), positions on moral issues, education, socioeconomic status, societal background (urban/rural).

Us-them thinking and relating naturally leads to comparing-and-competing along with the better than, less than thinking that fuels it. As we focus on how we are different, we inevitably ask, “Who is right? Whose way is best?” It is a variation of the disciples’ argument of “who is the greatest?” To be “right” is to be the greatest. Of course, our answer to the question is always “my way is right.” To reinforce our sense of being “right”—i.e., the greatest—we build connections with others who think like we do. We create tribes and echo chambers that validate our thinking as being the only “right” way to think. These allies reinforce our sense that we—and those who think like us—are not only “right.” We are “the greatest.”

Us-them thinking produces the conflict and division that—apparently—are a normal, unavoidable part of human relationships. Our comparing and competing creates a win/lose mentality as well as a culture and society structured around winners and losers. The winners enjoy power and position—what James and John were seeking. The winners use their power and position for their own personal advantage, always at the expense of the losers. Protecting their power and position is a priority. The losers are stuck in a one-down, powerless position, seeking ways to reverse the situation—such as James and John’s end run on Peter. In this us-them, comparing and competing world, the underlying questions are “who’s on top”—i.e., who is the greatest—and “what does it take to get to the top?”—i.e., to be the greatest.

While Jesus recognized these kinds of relational dynamics were at play in both his disciples and in the world, he chose not to engage in them. A different way of thinking shaped how he lived—thinking shaped by the character of God and the ways of God. Jesus understood that greatness was not about power and position. Rather, true greatness was about how one uses power—i.e., the servant spirit. The apostle Paul called Jesus’s way of thinking “the mind of Christ” (1 Corinthians 2:16). He called us, as the followers of Jesus, to embrace the mind of Christ (Philippians 2:5-11).

As we walk this Lenten journey, we see in the experience of the disciples the stark difference between the way the world trained us to think and the thinking that underlies the kingdom of God. The journey calls us again to embrace the mind of Christ. It calls us to set aside how the world trained us to think and live—the us-them, comparing-and-competing, better than-less than, winners and losers thinking that produces conflict and division. It invites us to walk with Jesus in the way of the servant.

Prayer for the Lenten journey: We see ourselves in the disciples, merciful God—and what we see is not pretty! Help us to see in Jesus the beauty of your servant nature and your ways of grace. Create within us a deep love for you and your ways—a love that captivates our hearts, minds, and souls—a love that moves us beyond how the world has trained us to think—a love that breaks the power of the self-serving, what’s-in-it-for-me spirit that enslaves us. Teach us how to win by losing.

Week 2 of the Lenten Journey, 2025

What was happening among the twelve was not that surprising, actually. It is something that happens in every group—including those of which we are a member. In fact, what was happening among the twelve was predictable.

As Jesus and the twelve made their way from Galilee toward Jerusalem, the twelve became embroiled in an argument over which one of them was the greatest (Mark 9:33-34). The argument was probably triggered by the transfiguration experience in which Jesus took Peter, James, and John with him on the mountain retreat (Mark 9:2-8). The selection of these three—excluding the other nine—indicated these three held some kind of significance and importance in the mind of Jesus. The ensuring argument was about which of the three was the greatest—with perhaps some of the others arguing that they were just as important as any one of those three. The argument was fueled by the expectation that, when they reached Jerusalem, Jesus would be revealed as the messianic king and would establish the long-awaited messianic kingdom. As those Jesus had hand selected (Mark 3:13-19), they expected to play a significant role in the new kingdom. They anticipated being someone important—someone others would call “great.” The unanswered question was “what would be the pecking order?” Who would have the most important position? Who would be the greatest?

The argument among the disciples is a window through which we can see ourselves. Like them, we want to know where we stand in the groups to which we belong. We want to know (1) our place in the group which reflects (2) our value to the group. Unlike the twelve, most us of do not openly argue about our place or our value, but we are acutely aware of both—especially when our place and value are not as great as others in the group. How we function in the group reflects our sense of our place and our value to the group OR the place and value we desire in the group.

The twelve argued over who was the greatest. For them, greatness was linked to a position in the group. It reflected one’s standing in the group. It defined one’s value to the group.

Their argument provided Jesus another opportunity to teach them about discipleship. The disciples’ argument reflected how the world had taught them to think about greatness. Jesus taught them how greatness was defined in the kingdom.

“Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all” (Mark 9:35).

Jesus did not reprimand the twelve for their argument or for the desire which fueled it. Rather, he undermined their argument by changing the standard by which greatness is defined. In the kingdom, greatness is defined by a servant spirit—the willingness to use one’s power and position to address the needs of another. A servant spirit frees us from concern about our standing in a group. It frees us to be “last of all and servant of all.”

A servant spirit is reflected in how we view and relate to the least “significant” people in our culture—those who have little or no status or standing, those who are powerless and vulnerable. “Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, ‘Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me’” (Mark 9:36-37). To welcome another is to treat the other with dignity and respect—as a person of worth and value—as a beloved child of God.

Claiming our own identity as beloved child of God frees us from the comparing-and-competing game in which we are constantly jockeying for position in relationships—the way the world defines greatness. It frees us to embrace the servant spirit Jesus taught and lived. It frees us to live as a servant who joyfully uses our power and position to address the need of another.

Prayer for the Lenten journey: As we walk this Lenten journey, Lord Jesus, teach us again the ways of the kingdom. Move us beyond the way the world trained us to think. Help us embrace the servant spirit by which greatness is defined in the kingdom. Fashion within us, Spirit of God, the likeness of Christ that we may live out of his servant spirit.

Week 1 of the Lenten Journey

 As Jesus and his disciples made their way to Jerusalem for the Passover celebration, Jesus was repeatedly telling his disciples what would happen to him there: “for he was teaching [this word in the original Greek means “repeatedly, over and over”] his disciples, saying to them, ‘The Son of Man is to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and three days after being killed, he will rise again’” (Mark 9:31). Of course, what he was saying would happen was not what they were expecting to happen. Consequently, they could not grasp what he was teaching. “But they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him” (Mark 9:32).

Our Lenten journey invites us to see ourselves in the story of Jesus and his disciples. It calls us to recognize and acknowledge how we today—like those first disciples—struggle to understand and accept many of the things Jesus taught. It reminds us of the LORD’s word through the unidentified prophet of the exile, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the LORD. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts” (Isaiah 55:8-9). The vast difference between God’s ways and our ways as humans explains why we struggle to understand, much less embrace, many of the things Jesus taught. If we are to move beyond our struggle to understand what Jesus taught—yea, beyond our resistance to it, we have to learn to think with a different mind.

The apostle Paul spoke of this different way of thinking as “the renewing of the mind” (Romans 12:2) and as “the mind of Christ” (1 Corinthians 2:16). Such thinking is Spirit-guided thinking—"and we speak of these things in words not taught by human wisdom but taught by the Spirit” (1 Corinthians 2:13, emphasis added). It is thinking shaped by the character of God and the ways of God, what Paul called “the depths of God” (1 Corinthians 1:10) or the heart of God.

As we walk the Lenten journey, we seek to position ourselves for the Spirit to teach us the mind of Christ, moving us beyond the ways the world trained us to think. We invite the Spirit to move us beyond our struggle to understand what Jesus taught and our resistance to it.

“Teach me your way, O LORD, that I may walk in your truth” (Psalm 86:11).

Ash Wednesday, 2025

 After his experience on the Mount of Transfiguration, Jesus—the gospel of Luke tells us—“set his face to go to Jerusalem” (Luke 9:51). His attention and focus were on Jerusalem and on what he knew he would experience there: betrayal, arrest, trial in which he would be condemned to death, crucifixion, death, and resurrection (Mark 8:31; 9:30-31; 10:32-34). During that six-weeks journey from Galilee to Jerusalem, Jesus sought to prepare his disciples for what he—and they—would experience there, but they were unable to grasp, much less accept, what he teaching them.

Today is Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the forty-day liturgical season of Lent. The Lenten season is patterned after Jesus’s journey from Galilee to Jerusalem. Just as Jesus’s journey ended in Jerusalem, so our Lenten journey will end in Jerusalem, ushering us into Holy Week with Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Silent Saturday. There the traditional somber mood of the Lenten season will give way to the joy of the resurrection on Easter Sunday.

During the Lenten season, we, like Jesus, set our faces toward Jerusalem. We embrace this forty-day journey as a spiritual discipline, using it to focus on growing in our discipleship as the followers of Jesus. We recognize that we, like those first disciples, struggle to grasp, much less embrace, the ways of God he taught—such as dying to the egocentric identity we constructed using the values and ways of the world (“deny themselves,” Mark 8:34), living as insurrectionists against the ways of the world (“take up their cross,” Mark 8:34), embracing a teachable spirit that seeks to learn and live out of a Spirit-shaped way of thinking (“follow me,” Mark 8:34), embracing a servant spirit as the measure of true greatness (Mark 9:33-37), rejecting the world’s hierarchal power-over ways of domination (Mark 10:35-40) as we follow Jesus’s pattern of using power to serve (Mark 10:41-45).

Those first disciples struggled to grasp, much less embrace, what Jesus taught because they were stuck in the way the world had trained them to think and live—“the yeast of the Pharisees and the yeast of Herod,” (Mark 8:15). The spiritual discipline of the Lenten journey invites us to recognize our own resistance to the ways of God Jesus taught. It invites us to recognize how our thinking—like that of those first disciples—has been shaped by the ways of the world. The Lenten journey invites us to embrace a teachable spirit—a willingness to learn and live the ways of God Jesus taught.

And so, another Lenten journey begins.