Tag: bible

dsc 0001

Abiding in God: Navigating Trauma with Faith

Published on by The Rev. Jason A BurnsLeave a comment

As with the entire lectionary, the gospel passage for today is taken out of context. One might think that it comes after the resurrection since it is the 7th Sunday after Easter, but chronologically Jesus is still seated at the table with his disciples the night before he died. He is preparing them for his departure, yet he speaks as if it has already happened. The language of this passage switches back and forth between future and past tense as if time has no meaning—and truthfully, it doesn’t. In this moment, Jesus is standing firmly in the room with them, yet talking as though he has already left the world.

The primary theme of this passage is eternal life, but we need to let go of our definition of that term. We almost always think of eternal life within the context of death and resurrection, which is linear thinking. We treat it as something we experience far in the future, stretching out after we die, like a prize we win after we cross the finish line of death. But it isn’t in the future, and it also isn’t in the past; it is always. Eternal life is not a reference to what will be, it is a reference to what is. God is eternal, creation is eternal, and we are eternal; not in the sense that our physical bodies will live forever, but that our existence is not limited or defined by the short time we exist on earth. When Jesus says, “This is eternal life: that they may know you,” he is using the present tense. It is an immediate reality, a current state of being that we are invited into right now, right in the middle of our messy lives.

Throughout the gospel of John, we hear terms like “abiding” and “dwelling.” In the original language, both of these words denote patiently waiting, living permanently within a space, and thinking about something at length rather than rushing past it. It means refusing to run away when things get uncomfortable. All of these definitions combined still do not fully capture what it means to live eternally with God, but it is as close as we can come with our limited human understanding. These terms aren’t meant to be theological puzzles; they are meant to convey a tangible sense of calm, comfort, connectedness, and most importantly, inclusion. To abide means to rest in the certainty that you belong permanently and safely in the heart of God, no matter how chaotic the external world becomes.

Yesterday, some of us attended a seminar on trauma and the church’s role in addressing it, and the concepts there fit beautifully with this idea of abiding. We learned about a concept called the “window of tolerance.” This is a psychological state of being in which we are able to experience joy, compassion, connection, and curiosity, precisely because our nervous system is not overly taxed or triggered by trauma. When we are in this window, we are mentally, emotionally, and physically present. In a very real way, being inside this window is the real-world equivalent of what John calls abiding.

This is, of course, a state that is fluid. We can very easily slip out of this window into an altered state where it becomes difficult for us to function. On one side, when we are overwhelmed, we might shoot up into the “fight or flight” response where we become overly agitated, anxious, or angry. On the other side, we might drop down into the “freeze” response where we shut down, numb out, dissociate, and feel completely exhausted or disconnected.

When the trauma and stress of the world pull us out of our window of tolerance, we lose our capacity for connection and curiosity. We can’t “abide” because our bodies are stuck in survival mode, convinced we are under attack. Jesus knew the trauma his disciples were about to endure the very next day, which is exactly why he prayed so deeply for their protection and their unity. He knew they would need each other to stay grounded.

This is where the church’s role becomes so vital, when the church stops being just a social club or a lecture hall and becomes a sanctuary for holy regulation. When Jesus invites us to abide in him, he is inviting us back into that safe, regulated space. And when the church understands trauma, we can become a community that helps widen each other’s windows of tolerance. By offering a space that mimics God’s character—one of calm, predictability, safety, and unconditional inclusion—we help soothe each other’s overtaxed nervous systems. We pull people out of the isolation of shutdown, and we calm the panic of hyper-arousal. In doing so, we create a sanctuary where people can step out of the chaos of linear time, drop their defenses, and return to the quiet, grounding truth that they are already safely held in the eternal life of God.

Long story short, our liturgy is the thing that provides the predictability. It helps us provide a sense of calm, it is in this space that we need to leg go of the things from the outside world. We need to let go of the anger, we need to let go of things like bulletins not being printed correctly. We need to let go of other people’s opinions or what we think about them. And we just need to be present for each other and abide in God’s love, which is why we are here. Amen

Hosanna! Understanding the Significance of Palm Sunday

Published on by The Rev. Jason A BurnsLeave a comment

Traditionally Palm Sunday is a day we experience contradictions. We parade with palms and celebrate the day Jesus arrived in Jerusalem, the capital, the place from where God reigns over the kingdom of Israel and near the end our hopes are dashed as we recount the death of Jesus by reading the Passion. There is a movement in the church to end this practice and it is a movement that I support. Palm Sunday highlights an important piece of the story of Jesus, and an important component of what it means to be his disciple, but that component gets overshadowed by the emphasis placed on his death.

When Jesus arrives at Jerusalem he has been spreading his message of love for three long years. He has healed the sick, cast out demons, raised the dead, but more importantly he has questioned the status quo. He has questioned the authority of Rome, he has questioned the authority of the temple, and he has questioned the authority of his listeners’ hearts. No one is spared and nor should they be because Jesus was not sent to be the voice of God for just one group, the right group, Jesus was sent to be the voice for ALL.

On the first Palm Sunday, which was not a Sunday, Jesus descends from the hills surrounding the city greeted by thousands of inhabitants shouting Hosanna, Hosanna, Hosanna in the highest! Or something like it. Hosanna is an Aramaic word that literally means “Save (help), I pray!” and it only appears in the gospels in relationship to this moment in time. The shouting of Hosana is a sign that the people are ready, they are ready for something different, they are ready to be out from under the thumb of the Roman emperor, they are ready to be out from under the oppressive rules of the temple, but are they truly ready for what these hopes will cost?

As the procession of palms enters Jerusalem from the east, another procession is entering through the west gate. Pontious Pilot has arrived with his legions to ensure that the city remain calm during Passover. Thousands of Hebrews descend on Jerusalem every year for the observance of Passover and Pilot is not going to take any chances of there being trouble due to recent grumblings of rebellion. So here we have two distinctly different processions, one that represents joy and hope; and one that represents authority and oppression. They meet, symbolically, in the middle in Jerusalem, a city which is described by Matthew as a city in turmoil.

So here we are, in the year 2026, symbolically recreating the procession from the east, calling and praying for God to Save us; but from what do we need to be saved? While some, as attested to by the No Kings marchers, argue that we need to be saved from government oppression, that is not it because that is a human matter. Jesus did not save the Hebrew people from the authority of Rome or even the temple and his death and ultimate resurrection are not about the political turmoil humanity creates for itself; it is about hoping in the possibility that some day we will be able to reconcile the turmoil that is within each of us.

The events we remember today and throughout Holy Week were real. We know this because they are in the historical record and I don’t just mean they are in the gospels. Our remembrance of them is consistent with our Hebrew roots as a faith tradition, but let’s not mistake remembrance for meaning. While we remember these events, we must also do the hard work of allowing the meaning of these events to renew and change us.

The turmoil in Jerusalem nearly 2,000 years ago was due to civic unrest caused by the juxtaposition to Imperial authority, temple authority, and this new guy spreading a cryptic message of love. For just a moment, try to picture the events of that day. You are standing in front of your house and from one direction you hear trumpets announcing the arrival of the Roman legions, and from the other direction you hear people shouting Hosana, save us! You have heard the trumpets of Rome many times and are used to them, so you turn your attention toward the east and wonder what all of this hubbub is about, then you realize it is about that guy Jesus who has been saying some pretty radical things, like love your neighbor, but on some level that makes sense to you and you want to hear more; but you also know that the priests don’t like this guy and have told you all to stay away. So, what do you do? Do you listen to the people in charge and stay away? Do you go hear what he has to say? Or do you go about your day and mind your own business because you have kids to feed and work to do? This decision is not an easy one, it creates conflict in you. On the one hand you are busy and need to get to work, but on the other hand you like some of what you have heard about Jesus and want to go listen? You feel conflicted, your thoughts are in turmoil.

The celebration of Jesus entry into Jerusalem is not just about the historical events, it is a reminder to us that the turmoil caused for the people who experienced it is the same turmoil that lives in us every single day. We are all Jerusalem on that day. We live in the turmoil, striving to be faithful to God’s command to love, while faced with neighbors who are frankly just jerks, which is not a strong enough word, but I leave it to your imagine the words I would like to use.

We are consistently and constantly bombarded with the opinions and actions of people who appear to hate their neighbors, who clearly only care about how everything affects them. We are told that we need to be civically active, that we must obey the law, that we must pay our taxes. We are consistently disregarded by our employers as we slave away to ensure that they make money or in the non-profit world to ensure that government or donors’ money isn’t being wasted. All of these things, are nothing more than the Roman and temple authorities of our time and the pressure we feel from these external sources is very real and is often in conflict with what Jesus teaches us, creating internal conflict and turmoil.

How can we be faithful followers of Jesus, a people who seek to love all people when human existence is so messy? We start with Hosana! Save me I pray! And then we gather around a table and share a meal, because when we are sharing a meal, we can forget about all those other things; this is what we do on Maundy Thursday.

After our meal we take some time to think about from what we wished to be save. What is the one thing we want to change about ourselves and we ask God to help us and they will; but only if we believe they will. We call this concept placing our burdens at the foot of the cross and it is what we do on Good Friday.

Having placed our burden on the cross and we allow that burden to die with Jesus, because that is what it is all about. It is about God carrying our burdens with us and for us, so that they are no longer burdens. Once we have done that, they are buried with Christ and if we truly allow them to be buried, they will no longer be a burden; and we will still be here as a resurrected people. As people who, because of their faith, were able to let go of the turmoil, if only for a few moments.

The cycle of turmoil, death, and resurrection is not a one time thing, it is a cycle that is repeated time and time again, and it is a cycle we are called to repeat every day of our lives, which is why we gather as a community week after week in a sanctuary from the turmoil of the world, to break bread, and to celebrate the resurrection of Christ Jesus.

My invitation to use all is to enter Holy Week with the intention of fully immersing ourselves in this process so when we gather on Easter morning the resurrection holds new meaning for us all.

The Role of Boundaries in Spiritual Transformation during Lent

Published on by The Rev. Jason A BurnsLeave a comment

Boundaries are a significant part of modern life. For some they play a vital role in maintaining a sense of control and for others they are a challenge to their sense of control. This concept is heightened by the fact that we live in America, a nation built on the idea that boundaries are meant to be broken. In 1893, historian Frederick Jackson Turner, outlined his argument that it had been the frontier, or the boundary between the known and unknown, that had defined American character and democracy. To that point he argued Americans had always identified with the possibilities that lied beyond the boundary and that our desire to know what lies beyond shaped us and instilled a sense of curiosity in the unknown as well as a willingness to cross established boundaries to satisfy that curiosity. Whether it be the Appalachian line drawn by the King in 1763, the countless barriers placed in front of the civil rights of all citizens, or the race to put a man on the moon, Americans have always seen boundary’s, not as a limitation, but as a challenge.

For Adam and Eve, the boundary was the tree of the knowledge of good and evil and the serpent was their own curiosity. If God did not want creation to have such knowledge then they would not have created the knowledge in the first place, nor would they have placed it within arm’s reach; I do not believe that the creator of the universe didn’t know that Adam and Eve would eventually eat the forbidden fruit, nor do I believe that God placed the restriction on eating the fruit as some cosmic test. Ultimately this story is just a story that reveals something about human nature. It reveals that when faced with a boundary we have the ability to cross the line, indicating that we have free will, which is vitally important because just as we can choose to ignore boundaries, we can also choose to love.

Prior to the fruit tree incident, Adam and Eve had no reason to fear God; they had no reason to fear anything. But once they ate, they learned the truth, which is that life is hard. They learned about hunger, thirst, pain, and death for the first time. They learned that God had been protecting them from the burden of free will by not denying it to them, but by putting off their loss of innocence for as long as possible. By delaying this inevitable weight of self-determination, the Creator allowed them to remain in a state of grace until they were ready to become the masters of their own destiny. The transition from the Garden to the wilderness was not merely a change in geography; it was a shift in consciousness. In the Garden, boundaries were external, a physical tree and a spoken command, but once that line was crossed, the boundary became internalized. Humanity moved from a state of passive being to a state of active becoming.

We trade the safety of the Garden for the dignity of the “Hard Life” every time we choose to grow. We accept the hunger and the toil because we refuse to be mere spectators in our own lives. We are a people of the frontier, defined not by the fences we build to keep the world out, but by our courage to look past them and ask what lies beyond. In our national history and our spiritual journey, we find that the boundary is not a wall; it is a horizon. It exists to define the moment of our next great choice, reminding us that to be truly human is to stand at the edge of the unknown and decide to step forward.

As we continue our journey through Lent, we find ourselves in our own version of the wilderness, standing between the comfort of what we know and the transformation of what is to come. Lent is, in many ways, a season of intentional boundaries like fasting, discipline, and self-restraint, but these are not meant to imprison us. Rather, like the frontier, these forty days serve as a perimeter that helps us define who we are when the distractions are stripped away. In the wilderness of Lent, we walk the same path Adam and Eve trod when they left the Garden: a path where hunger and thirst are real, but where the opportunity to rely on God’s grace is even more tangible. We use this season to examine the lines we have crossed in error and the new boundaries we must cross in faith, moving ever closer to the ultimate “boundary-breaking” event of the Resurrection.