Wednesday, April 15, 2020  (today’s lectionary)
Tax day. All done. Finally last night the numbers stopped bucking and running and settled into their places for their year-long rest. And I in my kerchief, and Ma in her cap, we settled together in our long winter’s nap.
Winter it is, snow swirling this morning of the Ides of April, cruelest month indeed. Our chickens don’t mind, nor the birds, they swirl too. Just there outside my window, they are chewing on their seeds. I see a bright red cardinal, and two robins hopping on the ground. I wonder where they’ve put their nest this year.
The beggar saw Peter and John and he called out to them with his unremitting sigh, “Alms! Alms for the poor!”
Peter will have none of this today. But he does not walk on. He looks straight into the man’s face. The cripple’s eyes are not damaged. He looks back and hopes for the stranger’s gift.
Silver and gold have I none. But I do have … well let me just say it, “In the name of Jesus Christ from Nazareth, rise up and walk!”
Wasn’t Peter just so surprised at himself? This was not like him. But of course, neither were the words of accusation and release, condemnation and praise, grace and life he found inside his mouth and then outside his lips. Peter, the foolish denying wimp of a man on the night of Jesus’ trials, has been transformed!
Peter took him by the right hand and raised him up, and the cripple leaped into the sky! Peter leaped too, and John laughed, and this new man stood and walked around, and walked with them into the temple. Leaping and jumping and laughing and praising God.
And the Beautiful Gate at last lived up to its name. Ascension, yes, even now even here, ascension.
I remember my covenant. Do you know how long is a thousand generations? You will live through maybe five, or six, or even seven. But a thousand? Your breath, David, does not rise on the morning of even the tenth generation … I promise you, I will breathe then even as I do now, and the earth will rejoice in my breathing.
Spring. The buds, your breathing brings them into green. Life holds me now, your breathing brings me into joy. O Lord, again you have made this day good! (Acts 2, Psalm 105, 118)
Won’t you walk with me on the path toward home? There is fear in your eyes, and exhaustion in your joints, but please. Walk with me.
My eyes are prevented from recognizing him who speaks to us. Our world has collapsed around us, but he does not know what has happened.
“Jesus was our hope, and he was captured and crucified. He has died, when we hoped he would be our redeemer. And angels told the women he was alive, now on this third day after his burial.”
Now our companion speaks up. His eyes insist we listen to his words, his hands fly up as he calls out our lazy foolishness, our awkward unbelief.
How slow of heart you are! Just open your soul and BELIEVE what the prophets have said and said and said.
On this road, in dust and springtime heat, my cheeks redden but then relax as he tells us what he means. What the prophets were talking about. All falls into place. My smile cannot be contained. My limbs are limber. I want to run and jump and laugh. We all do, and we jump, and click our heels together, and the sun shines, and our friend laughs and laughs, hands on knees, along the road.
And he shall reign forever and ever.
Please stay with us, and have something to eat after this long journey. And he does. He sits with us and breaks the bread, and …
Open all your eyes, step up and sing, the Lord is risen and the Lord is good. I am not always nice, but I am always good. And I the Lord shall reign forever and ever. A thousand generations is like a day. This day, this day, I have made good my promise, and again this day is good.
Our hearts were burning! He made himself known to us in the breaking of the bread. As the bread is broken, we are all made whole. (Luke 24)
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