Beyond Illustrations

Most preachers have learned the lesson well: showing is crucial to telling.

We are not the first generation to recognize that there is something very wrong when the preaching of the living Word is reduced to a dry intellectual exercise, remote from life and awash in the abstractions of one sort of "God-talk" or another. "The snowstorm was real," lamented Ralph Waldo Emerson in 1838, in reference to a deadly sermon, "the preacher merely spectral."¹ 

Emerson's indictment lives on in the twenty-first century, sharpened by the relentless snowstorm of sensory stimulation via iPod, BlackBerry, and YouTube. When was the last time that you heard someone observe that more was gained from a children's sermon with the mystery object in the brown paper bag than from the treatise on the transfiguration that was delivered from the pulpit? You probably said it yourself.

Showing is crucial to telling.

But why?

The Case for Showing
Sociological studies, pedagogical theories and neurological research can all bolster the claim that showing is important in human communication. But perhaps more persuasive to many preachers is the fact that when you open the Bible, there is showing amidst its telling on nearly every page. Didn't Jesus tell a story as often as he made a point?

The desire to illustrate sermons was born out of this awareness. If you want to get the message across, you will need to find images, stories, examples, applications, or photographs to bring it home.

If this is true, then it is hardly surprising there is money to be made in helping preachers stay "real" in the pulpit.

Showing has long been packaged in the form of "illustrations" — collections of anecdotes. excerpts and tidbits to liven up the treatise on transfiguration that was trumped by the children's sermon. Illustration products are marketed as the sugar to help the exegetical medicine go down. Today they range from the pretty hokey to the media savvy.

If you search for "sermon illustrations" on amazon.com, you will come up with about two thousand three hundred fifty nine books, two CD-ROMs and three DVDs. There is a lot to choose from.

But some preachers are not quite sure about this "plug and play" approach to showing, and neither are many in the field of homiletics.

What's wrong with good old illustrations?
For one thing, there is an objection to the very idea that "showing" is "illustrating" in the first place. As some New Testament scholars have argued, parables, for example, are not merely illustrations of a point already made. The parable is the point. What is communicated by an image or narrative or metaphor cannot be reduced to a propositional statement. It is a "something more" for which there is no substitute. Given this conviction, it makes sense that illustrations sprinkled in for seasoning do not satisfy.

Second, there is a recognition of the limitations of "canned" sermon illustrations, period. The older favorites, which often have been in circulation for quite some time, carry with them unspoken values and attitudes that may well undermine whatever worthy sentiments they might offer about faith or stewardship or perseverance. And while the new and improved versions sometimes avoid the stereotypes of their predecessors (in the days of the "E-mail forward"), the best of the bunch may have already made the rounds via the inboxes of your congregation.

Finally, and maybe most importantly, there is the concern that a steady diet of imported illustrations is no substitute for the imagination and discernment of a local pastor's eyes and ears and heart. An emphasis on distant dilemmas or literary gems or larger than life saints can suggest that God is at work – but not here.

Preaching without a net
So, how would a preacher committed to showing as well as telling move beyond illustration?

I'm afraid the answer can be hard to hear.

Moving beyond illustration is less about technique and more about a way of life. You take up the Bible and read the text for Sunday again and again, raising questions, making connections, and following leads. You do this with particular people in mind: Gladys who lost her husband last month, the deacons fighting over the clothing drive, the quiet teenagers lurking on the margins. And then with all that simmering inside you, you go about your business, on the lookout for parables.

The jolt of recognition might come with a news story or a soccer game or a Netflix pick. It might be observed at the Wednesday potluck or Thursday's hospital visit. At least some of the time it is not something that has happened but something that might happen. It is the story that comes to mind when you ask yourself, "What would it look like here and now if . . . ?" Showing the good news requires a hearty imagination, especially when the bad news is so apparent.

Pastors often strive for separation between work-life and home-life, but where preaching beyond illustration is concerned, strict compartmentalizing simply won't do. Live with the Scripture and its promises on the one hand. and the people and their struggles on the other. The parables will show up. It is a little scary to trust that it will happen, without the safety net of illustrations!

If panic sets in and you are tempted to plug and play, remember: Jesus came to give sight to the blind. That promise can be trusted, I think, even here in the company of the preachers.

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¹Emerson, Ralph Waldo. The Collected Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson, Volume I: Nature, Addresses, and Lectures (Cambridge: Belknap, 1971), 85.

Luke 1:26-38 Natalan

Commentary on Gospel by Karoline Lewis

To Be Regarded...

The Annunciation to Mary is a remarkable text.

As I began to work on this commentary, my first memory of this story took me back to my high school days. For various and sundry reasons, this Lutheran girl, and a preacher's kid, ended up in a Catholic high school. Thinking about this passage, I remembered being amazed and even surprised when I first attended an Annunciation Day mass at San Domenico School for Girls. I had some sense that as a Lutheran this was neither an event nor day that we acknowledged or celebrated. I was perplexed and considered the rationale for and reasons behind why our classes would start an hour late that day. But the primary image that came to my mind is being surrounded by girls, by my friends, and thinking, God has looked with favor on us. The feeling that I remember from that day in the midst of unfamiliar ritual and religiosity is that God had regarded me.

It is no small thing to be regarded, to be favored, especially when you are exceedingly aware that you should not be. A first pass at this text for the last Sunday of Advent brings these reactions, these feelings to the surface. One homiletical move on this text could very well be to create the sense of what it feels like to be noticed and regarded. Going into the week before Christmas, in the midst of everything that is the season (fill in the blanks here), what it would be like to experience, to know, that God favors you. I wonder how many of our people need to hear these words, now, not later, and not after Christmas. So much of the season is focused outside of oneself, the shopping, the gatherings, the giving. To hear that in the middle of all of what the Christmas season is that God favors you, well, that kind of claim really brings the incarnation home.

The Impossible Possibility of God

This story of Gabriel's announcement to Mary is surrounded by the impossible. Elizabeth's story brackets Mary's. Just before the designated text for this Sunday is Elizabeth's pain-filled yet wondrous words, "This is what the Lord has done for me when he looked favorably on me and took away the disgrace I have endured among my people." This impossibility demands that we hear Mary's story as equally incredulous. The angel's confession that "nothing is impossible for God" finds its deepest meaning in that impossibility abounds, that a barren, elderly woman is pregnant, that a young teenage girl from a nothing town is favored. Once again, our set imaginations that might idealize the Christmas story are turned upside down. This just does not happen. Do we get that? One of the greatest challenges of preaching this story is somehow to create the movement from impossible to possible, to let God's possibility ring new and true and whole when all we know in our world, in our lives, is impossibility.

Mary herself acknowledges the impossible possibility of God with her first response to Gabriel. She is perplexed and debated/considered/reasoned/consider different reasons. While the New Revised Standard Version translates the latter verb as "pondered" it is not the same Greek word as in 2:19. She debates, reasons about the angel's greeting when the only thing Gabriel has said so far is, "Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you." Mary's initial response to this encounter is worth significant pause. The angel has barely said a thing.

Why is Mary bewildered? To call attention to Mary's response to the angel's first words is to emphasize to what extent Mary cannot even believe this impossible possibility. Me? Who am I? Why am I favored? How can the Lord be with me? She knows her place. She knows who she is. And this should not be happening. She's a she, a teenager, and from the wrong side of the tracks.  Gabriel then tells her the big news that she's going to be pregnant with a son, but not just any son, the Son of the Most High, no less, from the lineage of David, with a never -- to -- end kingdom. OK. What? "How can this be?" Can we voice her disbelief with the kind of incredulity that must have been Mary's? Or, do we perpetuate an obedient response, relegating Mary's true astonishment to some sort of obligatory prophetic answer?

The Move to Christmas

Any sermon on this text worth its weight will somehow create, expand, and eventually resolve, to a certain extent, and as much as is theologically possible, the tension between "How can this be" and "Let it be with me according to you word." It will move us from the absence of God (1:34), to the presence of God (1:35), to the fulfillment of the promises of God (1:36). To collapse "Here I am" too quickly into our idealistic notions of answering God's call reduces Mary to simply a pawn in some sort of divine play and further marginalizes her.

Somehow, someway, a sermon on this text will negotiate the radical transformation in only three short verses, from peasant girl to prophet, from Mary to mother of God, from to denial to discipleship. In a very real way, this is the appropriate transition from Advent to Christmas. Mary's story moves us all from who we think we are to what God has called us to be, from observant believer to confessing apostle. Moreover, remarkably, impossibly, Mary's story demands that we acknowledge the very transformation of God. It is no small journey to go from our comfortable perceptions of God to God in the manger, vulnerable, helpless, dependent. Yet, this is the promise of Christmas.

Resurrection message in Jerusalem (through word and healing) Acts 3:1-26

Commentary on Narrative Lectionary by Elisabeth Johnson

The summary statement at the end of Acts 2 says that in Jerusalem, "awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles" (2:43), and that Jesus' followers "spent much time together in the temple" (2:46).

The beginning of chapter 3 illustrates these statements beautifully. Peter and John are shown "going up to the temple at the hour of prayer, at three o'clock in the afternoon" (3:1), where an encounter with a lame man leads to a wondrous healing and amazement among the people.

Lame Man Leaping

The man lame from birth is carried in daily and laid at a temple gate to beg for alms from those entering the temple. When he encounters Peter and John, he gets much more than he bargained for. "I have no silver or gold," Peter says, "but what I have I give you; in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk" (3:6).

Peter takes the lame man by the hand and raises him up (3:7). Immediately the lame man's feet and ankles are made strong again, so that he not only stands, but walks and leaps into the temple praising God (3:8). His response recalls Isaiah 35, which says that "the lame shall leap like a deer" when the redeemed return joyfully to Zion (35:6). When the people see the man walking and leaping, and recognize him as the same man who used to beg at the temple gate, they are filled with wonder and amazement.

Peter's Portico Sermon

Astonished, the people quickly surround Peter, John, and the newly healed man in Solomon's Portico, a colonnade on the east side of the temple enclosure (3:11). As at Pentecost, Peter seizes the opening provided by wondrous signs and buzzing crowds to proclaim Jesus as Messiah. He first clarifies what is happening, lest there be any misunderstanding (cf. Acts 2:14-16), stating that the healing has taken place not by his or John's own "power or piety," but by faith in the name of Jesus (3:12-16).

Echoing themes from his Pentecost sermon, Peter interprets Jesus' life, ministry, death, and resurrection within the framework of Israel's history and scriptures. The God of their ancestors Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob is the author of all that has taken place. Though the people handed over Jesus to Pilate, though they rejected the "Holy and Righteous One" and put to death the "Author of life," God raised him from the dead and glorified him (3:13-15). It is through faith in the name of Jesus, whom God raised up (geiren), that this lame man has been raised up (cf. 3:7 - geiren) and restored to health (3:16).

Peter acknowledges that the people and their rulers acted in ignorance when they handed Jesus over to death, but says that God used their actions to fulfill what was foretold through the prophets, "that his Messiah would suffer" (3:17-18; cf. Luke 24:25-27, 44-48). Here, as throughout the speeches in Acts, human culpability for Jesus' death is held in tension with the inevitability of his death in God's plan. Just as their ancestors persecuted and killed the prophets, so now the people have murdered the Righteous One whose coming the prophets foretold (cf. 7:51-53). Yet God's gracious will to save is stronger than human rebellion. God reverses humanity's death-dealing ways by raising Jesus from the dead and offering forgiveness and life in his name.

As at Pentecost (2:37-40), Peter sounds the call to repentance, urging the people to turn to God so that their sins "may be wiped out," so that "times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord, and that he may send the Messiah appointed for you, that is Jesus" (3:19-20). The "times of refreshing" -- times of forgiveness and healing -- will culminate in the return of Jesus the Messiah and the "universal restoration" or fulfillment of all that God has promised through the prophets (3:21). All the prophets, "from Samuel and those after him," foretold these days (3:24).

Indeed, even before Samuel, Moses spoke of what is taking place. Peter quotes Deuteronomy 18:15, in which Moses says that God will raise up a prophet like him, to whom the people must listen (3:22). Peter then conflates Deuteronomy 18:19a with Leviticus 23:29b to say that everyone who does not listen to that prophet will be cut off or "utterly rooted out" of the people (3:23).

The promise of God raising up a prophet like Moses had taken on eschatological expectations by the first century. Peter draws on such expectations, as well as the multivalence of anistmi, which can mean to "raise up" in the sense of appointing a prophet or to "raise up" from the dead. Jesus is the prophet whom God "raised up" and sent first to the people of Israel, "to bless you by turning each of you from your wicked ways" (3:26). The people of Jerusalem have been given a second chance to heed this prophet sent by God. Though they rejected and killed him the first time, they now have the opportunity to repent and turn to God and have their sins wiped out.

The consequences for refusing to listen to God's prophet a second time are dire -- nothing less than being "utterly rooted out of the people." Peter appeals to his listeners not to let that happen. "You are the descendants of the prophets and of the covenant God gave to your ancestors, saying to Abraham, 'And in your descendants all the families of the earth shall be blessed'" (3:25). Peter urges the people not to reject God's purpose for them, but to turn to God and be blessed, so that they might participate in the universal restoration God is bringing about through Jesus the Messiah.

The Larger Narrative

A significant portion of Luke-Acts scholarship treats it as a narrative of Israel's rejection of the gospel and the movement of the gospel to the Gentiles. A more coherent reading, in my view, is that Luke-Acts portrays the division of Israel foretold by Simeon in Luke 2:34-35: "This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed."¹

There is no claim in Luke-Acts that Israel is being replaced as God's people. Rather, God's sending of the Messiah brings about a purging of Israel, so that Jews who believe in Jesus as Messiah and Lord -- and according to Acts there are thousands (2:41; 21:20) -- constitute a restored people of God, through whom the gospel will spread to the Gentiles. Indeed, it has always been part of God's plan to gather the Gentiles into God's people (3:25; 15:13-17).

What does this mean for us reading this story today as a church of mostly Gentile Christians? One implication is that we cannot claim "insider" status. As Don Juel puts it, "We are addressed by the story as strangers with no claim to a place at the table. We become part of the 'you' for whom Luke writes only by the gracious act of Israel's God through Jesus the Messiah."²

This recognition ought to inoculate us against smugness and complacency. As those graciously grafted onto Israel's family tree, we cannot simply bask in our blessedness or rest in the faithfulness of our ancestors. In every generation, we are called to heed the voice of the servant whom God raised up, repent of our resistance to God's will, and turn again to God's mission to bless "all the families of the earth."

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¹E.g., Jacob Jervell, Luke and the People of God (Minneapolis: Augsburg, 1972); Donald Juel, Luke-Acts: The Promise of History (Atlanta: John Knox Press, 1983); David Tiede, Prophecy and History in Luke-Acts (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1980).
²Don Juel, "Hearing Peter's Speech in Acts 3: Meaning and Truth in Interpretation," Word & World 12/1 (1992) 48.

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Easter Mark 16:1-8

Commentary on Narrative Lectionary by Paul S. Berge

The Sabbath day has passed and it is the dawn of a new day.

That for which there was not time to carry out before Sabbath began will now take place. The anointing of Jesus' body for burial will be carried out on the first day of the week, however, before we continue we need to recall an earlier event in Mark.

We noted in our study of an alternative text for Palm Sunday (Mark 14:3-11), that a woman came into the house of Simon the leper and poured a flask of costly ointment of pure nard over the head of Jesus as he sat at table. There was a protest by some to what was considered an extravagant and wasteful act, and they reproached the woman when the ointment could have been sold for more than three hundred denarii and given to the poor. Jesus interpreted her response differently, "She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for burying" (14:8).

We followed the events of the passion narrative from this point, knowing that Jesus' body has already been anointed for burial and the nard poured over his head was an act signifying the honor of anointing a king. Thus we have known throughout these chapters that Jesus is the King, the anointed Messiah of God's own choosing. He is the "King of the Jews" as Pilate questions Jesus (15:2, 9, 12) and the soldiers taunt (15:18). The ironic sign on the cross over Jesus reads, "The King of the Jews" (15:26). The final mocking of the chief priests and scribes ironically proclaims that God's Messiah is indeed the King of Israel: "Let the Messiah, the King of Israel, come down from the cross now, that we may see and believe" (15:32).

The evangelist now brings us in the early dawn hours on the first day of the week to the tomb where Jesus is buried. The Sabbath has passed and Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bring spices to anoint the body of Jesus.

The evangelist reminds us of the importance of time: "And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb" (16:2). Greek is an exacting language and has the literary quality of drawing readers or hearers into the immediate presence of the text. The resurrection story is such an example. The New Revised Standard Version text of Mark 16:2 reads: "And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went (Greek: "they come") to the tomb." The literal reading of the Greek text would be to translate as a present tense event, "they come." In Greek this is known as the historic present tense with its purpose to draw you as the reader or hearer into the present time of the story. We, too, become witnesses, even participants with the women, in the action of coming to the tomb.

On their way, the women discuss the difficulty of removing the stone covering the entrance of the tomb (16:3). Another historic present tense verb draws us into the narrative again: "When they looked up, they saw (Greek: "they see") that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back" (16:4). Listen to the details also drawing us into the tomb: "And entering the tomb, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, dressed in a white robe, and they were amazed." (Greek: startled or awestricken) (16:5).

Once again we are drawn into the drama of the young man's assurance: "But he said (Greek: "he says") to them, 'Do not be amazed/startled/awestricken; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified'" (16:6a). The message we hear is the heart of the Easter proclamation then and now: "He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him" (16:6b).

The witness of the empty tomb is a message to be proclaimed: "But go, tell" (16:7a). The two imperative verbs convey an ongoing action and immediacy to the commission. The audience is the disciples, with Peter singled out as a spokesperson in the Gospel of Mark. Jesus is already going on ahead of them to the place of his early ministry in Galilee: "there you will see him, just as he told you" (16:7b). During the Passover meal Jesus recalled the prophetic words of Zechariah: "I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered" (14:27, see Zechariah 13:7). The shepherd who has been struck in crucifixion is the risen Lord in Jesus' words of promise: "But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee" (14:28). The disciples are the sheep who have been scattered in the traumatic events that led up to and followed Jesus' crucifixion. The crucified and risen Lord comes among his followers as the shepherd who goes before the sheep (16:7).

With the events that we have witnessed at the tomb, we have been drawn into the early dawn hours of a new day. With the women, we have come to the tomb and the discovery of the large stone rolled away. The message of the young man is addressed to us. We too have received the commission to go and tell. Finally, we understand the response of the women fleeing from the tomb "for terror (Greek: trembling, fear) and amazement (Greek: extasis: literally ecstatic or ecstasy) had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid" (16:8).

The response of the three women to the promise of the young man in Mark's resurrection story is not unlike the response of Abraham and Sarah to the promise of the three messengers: "I will surely return to you in due season and your wife Sarah shall have a son" (Genesis 18:10). At age ninety Sarah responds with laughter. The LORD repeats the promise to Abraham while Sarah denies her response of laughter, saying, "'I did not laugh'; for she was afraid" (Genesis 18:15).

The response of Sarah, "for she was afraid", and the response of the three women, "for they were afraid," reflect the presence of the living LORD. In the barren womb of Sarah the LORD promises life in the son she will bear. At the empty tomb the young man proclaims the promise of Jesus' lordship. Jesus will go before his followers to Galilee. The two stories in Genesis and Mark share a theophany (Greek: "an appearance of God"), a manifestation of God's living presence. We, too, stand in awe and ecstasy of God's presence among us in the crucified and risen Lord who goes before us.

Good Friday - Crucifixion Mark 15:16-47

Commentary on Narrative Lectionary by Paul S. Berge

As we marked the watches of the night identified in Mark 13:35, we arrived at the fourth watch with the religious leaders handing over or betraying (Greek: paradidomi) Jesus to Pilate: "Immediately it was dawn" 15:1 (Greek text).

This is the final "immediately" of the 41 occurrences in the Gospel of Mark, and indicates the immediacy of the handing over or betraying of Jesus by the Jewish religious leaders at dawn to the Gentile ruler, Pilate.

Now the hours of the day are marked in chapter 15. Pilate's question to Jesus, "Are you the King of the Jews?", and Jesus' response, "You say so," is followed by, "Have you no answer? See how many charges they bring against you" (15:2-4). The false charges of the chief priests and Pilate's questions go unanswered by Jesus which leads Pilate to be amazed (15:5). Pilate realizes that it is for jealousy that Jesus has been handed over as they call for the release of Barabbas, an insurrectionist. Barabbas, a terrorist, an enemy of the state, is released with the ironic name, "son of the father" (Greek: bar--abba), while the true "Son of the Father" is met with shouts of "Crucify him!" as Jesus is flogged and handed over to be crucified (15:3-15).

The text for Good Friday begins with the incredible irony of Pilate's acclaim of Jesus as the "King of the Jews" as he is brought into the courtyard of his palace together with a cohort (Greek: speira, hundreds) of soldiers. Mockingly clothed in the royal color of purple and crowned with thorns, they salute him: "Hail, King of the Jews!" (15:16-18). Jesus is struck, spat upon, knelt before in mocking homage, stripped of the purple cloth and led out to be crucified (15:19-20).

On the way to Golgotha, Simon of Cyrene is enlisted to carry the cross (15:21). Arriving at the place of the skull, Golgotha, Jesus is offered, and refuses a pain-deadening drink, and is crucified. An additional act of disrespect and cruelty takes place as they cast lots for his clothes (15:22-24).

We once again mark the time of day as the narrative identifies nine o'clock in the morning when Jesus is crucified. The inscription on the cross reads, "The King of the Jews." Two robbers or insurrectionists are crucified on either side (15:25-27). Jesus is mocked by those who pass by, "Aha! You who would destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself and come down from the cross!" Likewise the chief priests and scribes join in the mocking, "He saved others; he cannot save himself. Let the Messiah, the King of Israel, come down from the cross now, so that we may see and believe." Even the two on either side join in the taunts (15:29-32).

The time is marked as noon when darkness covers the whole land until three in the afternoon. At three o'clock Jesus cries out with a loud voice: "Eloi, Eloi, lema sabachthani?" which translates, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" (15:33-34). The words of Jesus echo the lament of opening verse of Psalm 22. The Psalm continues through despair and assurance, mocking and deliverance, death and piercing, dividing garments and casting lots, prayer and praise. No wonder the Psalm 22 is known as the Passion Psalm.

As I write these words on December 6, 2011, the radio on my desk is playing "Silent Night, Holy Night" on this Tuesday in Advent. I have never before been flooded with the emotion of living in the season of Advent while responding to the text of Jesus' crucifixion. The coming of God's Son, the Messiah, is also the one who cries out to the Father in the agony of pouring out his life to death. The silence and holiness of the Christmas night is broken by the darkened hour and cry of crucifixion: "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?"

The bystanders interpret Jesus' cry as calling for Elijah. A sponge with sour wine is put to Jesus' lips, with the false expectation to see if Elijah will come to rescue him (15:35-36). With Jesus' last cry "the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom (15:37-38). The Gospel of Mark began with the heavens "torn apart" (Greek: skizo) at Jesus' baptism and the voice of God proclaiming, "This is my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased" (1:11). Now the curtain of the temple has been "torn apart" (Greek: skizo) and access to the Holy of Holies, the presence of God, is open to all. In Jesus Christ, God is manifest in the Beloved Son, the Crucified. The words of the centurion proclaim the living word of the Gospel of Mark: "Truly this man was God's Son" (15:39).

The women who followed and attended Jesus when he was in Galilee have come to Jerusalem. Looking on from a distance they view the incomprehensible scene of crucifixion. There is no mention of the disciples being present (15:40-41).

In Mark's narrative, Jesus' death takes place on the day of Preparation, which is also the day before Sabbath. In order to observe the day of Sabbath, which begins at sundown on the day of Preparation, there is an urgency to bury the body of Jesus. Joseph of Arimathea, "a respected member of the council" requests Pilate for permission to bury the body of Jesus. Pilate wonders about the death and learns from the centurion that Jesus was dead, and grants the body to Joseph (15:42-45).

Jesus' body is taken down from the cross and wrapped in a linen cloth and placed in a rock hewn tomb. This is all completed without the customary anointing of the body, and a stone is rolled against the door to seal the tomb. Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joses observe where the body has been placed (15:46-47). The triumphal of the entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday (11:1-10) is now concluded in a stone cold tomb with this Good Friday text (15:16-47).

Maundy Thursday – [26-50 prayer in Gethsemane & arrest] Mark 14:12-25

Commentary on Narrative Lectionary by Paul S. Berge

The evangelist Mark has provided a profound way into the passion narrative.

We previously covered the Palm Sunday entry into the city of Jerusalem in 11:1-10, and the anointing of Jesus for burial in 14:3-11. In between these texts, Jesus is challenging the religious authorities in the temple (11:11-12:44) and teaching outside the temple to teach about its imminent destruction (13:1-31) and his own death (13:32-37).  The chapter concludes with a timetable in which the future is imminent in the passion narrative that unfolds in chapters 14 and 15.

Jesus' warning call to "beware, keep alert; for you do not know when the time will come" (13:33) leads into the events of the passion. Jesus teaches with a parable of a man who has gone on a journey and left his household servants in charge. The doorkeeper is charged with being on watch for the master of the house to come, "in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn" (13:35). Jesus' admonition calls for the servant not to be found sleeping: "And what I say to you (twelve disciples) I say to all (readers and hearers of the Gospel of Mark): Keep awake" (13:37).

The passion narrative now unfolds through the four watches of the night: (1) evening (14:17-31); (2) midnight (14:32-65); (3) cockcrow (14:66-72); (4) dawn (15:1-15). Mark's passion narrative takes us from (1) the evening Passover meal with the disciples; (2) the midnight hours of prayer in Gethsemane, betrayal, arrest, and hearing before the chief priests; (3) Peter's threefold denial and the crowing (Greek: kaleo, calling) of the cock; (4) the handing over of Jesus to Pilate at dawn.

Our text begins with preparation for the evening meal: "On the first day of Unleavened Bread, when the Passover lamb is sacrificed" (14:12). All the imagery of this meal is present and its significance in marking the deliverance of the captive Israelites in the Exodus. There is no mistaking what this meal will signify for the life of the new community centered in the deliverance of Christ's death and resurrection.

Details of the preparation and setting for the meal are described: "So the disciples set out and went to the city, and found everything as he had told them; and they prepared the Passover meal" (14:12-16). The first watch of the night is noted: "When it was evening, he came with the twelve" (14:17). The ominous words of Jesus around which they gather at table begin the evening: "Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me, one who is eating with me" (14:18). The drama unfolds as the disciples in distress address Jesus, "Surely, not I?" (14:19). Jesus describes the action that will reveal the betrayer, and it could be anyone at this point: "It is one of the twelve, one who is dipping bread into the bowl with me" (14:20).

During the meal Jesus takes bread, blesses, breaks and gives it to the disciples with the words, "Take; this is my body" (14:22). Jesus also takes the cup with the words, "This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many. Truly I tell you, I will never again drink of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God" (14:23-25). With these words, what could the disciples be thinking?

The meal concludes with the singing of the Hallel, and the walk to the Mount of Olives. Here Jesus notes they will all fall away and recalls prophetic words which identify the betrayal of the Son of Man: "I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep will be scattered" (14:27 see Zechariah 13:7).  The shepherd will be struck down in crucifixion, but the promise of resurrection will gather the sheep: "But after I am raised up, I will go before you to Galilee" (14:28). Jesus' words to Peter conclude on this ominous note: "Truly I tell you, this day, this very night, before the cock crows twice, you will deny me three times" (14:29-30). Peter vehemently denies the words of Jesus: "Even though I must die with you, I will not deny you" (14:31). The disciples expressing the same affirm Peter's words.

The midnight hours of the second watch (14:32-65) are upon Jesus and the disciples as they go to Gethsemane. Taking Peter, James and John with him, Jesus becomes "distressed and anguished," saying to them, "I am deeply grieved, even to death; remain here and keep awake" (14:32-34). Going on by himself, Jesus throws himself on the ground praying that this hour might pass from him: "Abba, Father, for you all things are possible, remove this cup from me; yet, not what I want, but what you want" (14:35-36).

Returning to the three disciples, Jesus finds them asleep. The three-fold call to "keep awake" at the close of the apocalyptic chapter (13:33, 35, 37), is now repeated in the Gethsemane story (14:34, 37, 38). Jesus goes away a second and third time to pray to the Father and each time returns to find them asleep: "Enough! The hour has come; the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Get up, let us be going.  See my betrayer is at hand" (14:41-42).

The word "immediately" inaugurates the entrance into the betrayal scene, indicating the immediacy of the act of betrayal. Judas emerges out of the shadows with a crowd armed with "swords and clubs, from the chief priests, the scribes, and the elders" (14:43). Judas had given them a sign and goes up to Jesus "immediately," identifying him as "Rabbi!" with a kiss of betrayal. Jesus is taken captive and arrested (14:44-46).

Jesus rebukes the return of violence in the drawing of a sword, and identifies that his arrest is not that of a bandit or insurrectionist, but of one who taught daily in the temple when there was no attempt to arrest him. However, even now scripture is fulfilled: "By a perversion of justice he was taken away" (Isaiah 53:8a). Finally, the evangelist concludes: "All of them deserted him and fled" (14:47-50).

The next two watches of the night take us beyond the definition of the assigned Maundy Thursday text. The third watch, cockcrow, takes place with Peter's denial in the courtyard of the high priest (14:66-72). The fourth watch, dawn, takes place when Jesus is handed over by the religious leaders to Pilate (15:1-15).