Scattered

Jesus said to them, “You will all falter in your faithfulness to me. It is written, I will hit the shepherd, and the sheep will go off in all directions.” (Mark 14:27, CEB translation)

And all his disciples left him and ran away. One young man, a disciple, was wearing nothing but a linen cloth. They grabbed him, but he left the linen cloth behind and ran away naked. (Mark 14:50-52, CEB translation)

So, everyone still getting dressed?

Maybe, maybe not. And maybe just from the waist up.

There is something about these moments of disruption that make us abandon clothing. Of course, not usually like the young man in the passage from Mark mentioned above, a young man who was so shocked at Jesus’ arrest that when someone grabbed his linen cloth, he ran away naked. (Why wasn’t he more dressed? Was he at the first century equivalent of a Zoom meeting? Already in his pajamas? Or expecting some rendez-vous? Who knows?)

I feel naked these days. And I feel scattered. I definitely feel like I am separated from Jesus. And I am separated from all of you.

There is a rhythm to Holy Week. Communion on Thursday. Stripping the altar or extinguishing candles on Friday. Not much on Saturday. And then big celebration on Easter.

I have absolutely loved watching all the ways churches are representing Holy Week this year. But all this week has taken place in isolation. Yes, we may be joined together in an online experience, or through comments we make on social media, and we are certainly all joined together in the common experience of navigating quarantine. But one of the things that we are sharing together is that we are separated.

And there was something about the accountability of community, of seeing you all and knowing you could see me, that helped hold me fast to my faith. And I like to think I am stronger than separation (and I hear in my head “Nothing can separate me from the love of Christ Jesus”) but this scattering… it is a struggle.

And that is where Holy Week feels real.

It is not in online communion. It is not in watching candles go out. It will not be in listening to “Were You There?” on a YouTube video.

It is in being scattered.

This year, more than any other year, and probably more than any other year to come, it feels like the shepherd has been hit and the sheep are scattered. It feels like we ran away. Now, we ran with good reason. But didn’t the disciples run with good reason, too? We are quick to judge them, but this year has made me stop and reconsider the scattering.

What if the disciples hadn’t run? What if they hadn’t hid away? What if they had gone to the cross with Jesus?

Who would have carried the message then? If all of his followers had died, then the Good News would have died with them.

Jesus needed them to run and hide. Jesus needed them to falter. Jesus needed them to cower in fear. Then, when the fire of the Holy Spirit rained down on them, they would desire to be with others. They would desire to be the bringers of the Gospel to a hurting and confused and injured and sick world. 

I have found my Holy Week connection. I need to be scattered this year. So do you. We are hanging on to the story. In fact, the sheep who have refused to be scattered are paying with their lives. Who will carry the message Jesus has entrusted them to carry now?

And in this scattering, we are also being equipped to carry it in new ways to a world newly hungry for the healing touch of Christ and for a place of authentic community. Our world is going to desperately need the Body of Christ on the other side of this, and we are going to need a Gospel of resurrection. But we have to be around to share that Gospel.  So Holy Week will be Holy Saturday, and we will hold in Holy Saturday for a while, holed up in our upper rooms until fire falls from the sky (perhaps literally in the form of summer weather) and sets us all free to bring love and healing to the world.

So scatter, sheep. Scatter. The fire is coming. 

Photo by Jasmin Sessler on Unsplash