Recognizing Angels and Jesus

Recognizing Angels and Jesus

“But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb, and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” 

When she said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher).”—John 20: 11-17.

Rebecca Stephens Facasantos

My mind and heart are flooded with thoughts about this Easter as I read others’ works and have new images from this familiar story about the appearance of Jesus to Mary Magdalene.

Bishop Jake Owensby of Western Louisiana suggests in an Easter blog that Mary Magdalene did not recognize Jesus because she is looking right at the risen Christ, and yet she sees nobody. For Mary Magdalene, the gardener is a nobody.”

Owensby’s theme is that our vocation as people of the resurrection is to “find the risen Christ in everybody, no matter their physical appearance.” Christ is no longer in one body but in every one of us—no exceptions.

Frederick Buechner also speaks to this theme in The Faces of Jesus. Buechner writes that “it hardly matters how the body of Jesus came to be missing, because in the last analysis, what convinced the people he had risen from the dead was not the absence of his corpse, but his living presence.” 2

noli me tangere fresco fra angelico

One more insight into Mary Magdalene’s visit to the tomb. Angels speak to her. There is no recognition that this is an awe-filled moment. Perhaps she sees and talks to angels all the time, but if we try to put ourselves into the scene, we may be more like the other Mary at the annunciation, full of fear, astonishment, or wonder. If we stay in the scene with Mary Magdalene, my best guess is that she may not recognize them as angels. We are reminded again about the difficulty in identifying the Christ in our neighbor and seeing the angels who guide us during these challenging times.

 Mary Magdalene must have recognized all this later, as is often our case. Otherwise, we would not know her story. 

Angels and the Christ, in others, were very present during the past pandemic and this war in Ukraine and the Middle East. They were wearing masks, driving a truck, putting up stock in our pharmacy and grocery stores, at the check-out counter, making take-out dinners, giving us vaccines, caring for refugees, treating the wounded, and especially the women of our Daughters of the King, who pray for us every day. 

1Jake Owensby, “Everybody is Somebody,” Looking for God in Messy Places, Jakeowensby.com, April 19, 2019.

2 Frederick Buechner “The Cross as the crossroads of eternity and time,” in The Faces of Jesus (Paraclete, 2005), p. 87.

Joanna  joannaseibert.com https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Myrrh Bearers

Myrrh Bearers

“But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared.”—Luke 24:1.

I remember preparing to present a workshop at the International Community of Hope conference one summer in Texas. The Community of Hope began training non-ordained hospital chaplains at St. Luke’s Hospital in Houston. The training program is now used worldwide by people interested in visiting the sick and homebound.

I have been involved in the Community of Hope in our diocese for more than twenty-five years. I continue to see it as outstanding preparation and study for anyone called to a ministry involving pastoral care in any form. (Some may believe this may be for all ministries!) One of the hallmarks of the training is that it is steeped in Benedictine spirituality.

He Qi Women Arriving at the Tomb

The image of the Community of Hope Chaplains that keeps coming to me is the “myrrh bearers,” the women who brought spices to the tomb of Jesus on that early Easter morning. They brought their most precious resources to honor the one who had cared for them. In my experience, this has been the story of many called to pastoral care ministry.

They know what it is like to be wounded and ministered to by other healers. They understand what it is like to be loved and cared for by others. Their only way of sharing, continuing, and keeping that love is to pass what they learned on to someone else.

What happens with the myrrh bearers’ visit is something totally unexpected. They go to honor their friend and teacher; instead, they are promised a new life, a resurrection in this life and the next.

I have never experienced a visit without receiving resurrection. Those we visit touch and heal us. We take our most precious possessions—ourselves, our time, and our presence—and make an offering. In return, we always meet the resurrected Christ in many forms. 

During the pandemic, we visited via Facebook, Zoom, and individual phone calls. In addition, our Daughters of the King, vestry, and clergy called everyone in our parish twice.

We also offered Community of Hope training on Zoom at St. Mark’s for those interested in using pastoral care in their ministries. 33 graduates from all over our diocese are now using what they learned in 28 different ministries.

We still meet once a month on Zoom to continue our studies and support each other. This Saturday, we are also sponsoring a regional retreat for Community of Hope chaplains in the Midwest to expand our community. The Reverent Barkley Thompson, the rector of Saint Mark’s, will be the keynote speaker.

Joanna. Joannaseibert.com https://www.joannaseibert.com/

A Liturgy of the Veil

A Liturgy of the Veil

Guest Writer: Karen DuBert

"At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, the rocks split."— Matthew 27:51

A Liturgy of the Veil

It was not a translucent, shimmering, lacy veil—

a hint of covering, inviting speculation.

It was not to hide the wearer or obscure the view.

It was weighty, ponderous, impressive

(“thick as a man’s hand” they said)

sixty feet high by thirty feet wide,

seventy-two squares woven together to last:

A massive undertaking to fabricate

to say nothing of hanging it

(it took three hundred priests, they claim)

Lord, the Veil You ordered to keep us safe

was not soft and cozy to bury our faces in—

no, it hung heavy, solid, and forbidding.

That veil was a shield

to protect us from the searing brightness of Your glory,

from the Beauty we couldn’t bear to see

from the Perfection that would have scalded us

from the Holiness that threatened to blind us:

It barred the way to the Mercy Seat

and once a year it was trespassed

(with fear and trembling, I’m sure)

by one with bells attached

and a rope to pull a body back—should things go badly.

In that veil You posted “No trespassing:

Violators will be prosecuted”

Thus we fathomed that holy was hazardous

as well as sacred.

But then “at the moment”

when the tormented Man on the cross cried out—

that Impenetrable Veil was obsolete,

Torn from top to bottom:

You tore it

and the Mercy Seat glimmered—

centuries of sprinkled bloodstains vanished.

So began the invitation into Your Presence

to bask in a welcome

we could never have borne

had death’s undoing not begun

and nothing has ever been the same. 

Amen

Karen DuBert

 Joanna JoannaSeibert. com