John 19:16-30
So they took Jesus, and carrying the cross by himself he went out to what is called the Place of the Skull, which in Hebrew is called Golgotha. There they crucified him and with him two others, one on either side, with Jesus between them. Pilate also had an inscription written and put on the cross. It read, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews.” Many of the Jews read this inscription because the place where Jesus was crucified was near the city, and it was written in Hebrew, in Latin, and in Greek. Then the chief priests of the Jews said to Pilate, “Do not write, ‘The King of the Jews,’ but, ‘This man said, I am King of the Jews.’” Pilate answered, “What I have written I have written.” When the soldiers had crucified Jesus, they took his clothes and divided them into four parts, one for each soldier. They also took his tunic; now the tunic was seamless, woven in one piece from the top. So they said to one another, “Let us not tear it but cast lots for it to see who will get it.” This was to fulfill what the scripture says,
“They divided my clothes among themselves,
and for my clothing they cast lots.”
And that is what the soldiers did.
Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son.” Then he said to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.
After this, when Jesus knew that all was now finished, he said (in order to fulfill the scripture), “I am thirsty.” A jar full of sour wine was standing there. So they put a sponge full of the wine on a branch of hyssop and held it to his mouth. When Jesus had received the wine, he said, “It is finished.” Then he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.
I didn’t think I would wear my clerical collar for the first time in Boston while cleaning up trash at an encampment. I continue to be amazed at where God leads me on this wild journey.
This is where I found myself one Thursday morning in September. At Mass and Cass,1 with my clergy collar, a yellow vest, a broom and pan. Alongside a couple other ministers and a cleaning crew of ten people who are in a work program that helped them (or is helping them) get off the streets and start clean.
And my God, my God, my heart was so heavy.
The needles, needle caps, alcohol wipes, elastic bands.
The moments of psychoses.
The quick glances of injections or light ups.
As an outsider who has been to a handful of encampments across the United States, none of this was new to me. In fact, this encampment seemed to be handling the reality of addiction and homelessness honestly. They had health and addiction specialists present everyday, often reviving people from overdoses. They had security in case deescalation was needed. They had a place to dispose of their needles. They had this cleaning crew who kept it tidy. They cleared the tent neighborhood out every other day to power wash and clean and then allowed everyone to come back.
Even so, it was still completely devastating.
About an hour into my time sweeping, I could feel the heaviness that had built up in my body. The tightness in my chest.
I walked toward the brick wall of the men’s shelter next door to take a few deep breaths. Attend to my broken heart. Let out a few tears. I’m sure Mary and Mary did the same on that Golgotha hill.2
As I was standing there, holding back a building scream in response to the deep injustice and suffering of the world, these are the stories that came to me:
Luke 5:31
Jesus answered them, “Those who are well have no need of a physician but those who are sick.”
Jesus didn’t come for the people who already have it all together. The people who call the tents their home - who are bound in chains to unwanted addictions, facing the daunting task of healing from profound wounds, and are pushed to the margins by a society with so few safety nets - Jesus broke into this world and bore our human flesh for them. Jesus loves them because of their humanity, not in spite of it.
John 5:5-9
One man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be made well?” The ill man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am making my way someone else steps down ahead of me.” Jesus said to him, “Stand up, take your mat and walk.” At once the man was made well, and he took up his mat and began to walk.
Many of these siblings have been at the healing pool for years, maybe even decades, unable to break free because others are pushing them aside on their way into the healing waters. The barriers are so high and overwhelming. But when we push them to the edges of the pool and then blame them for “not getting better,” Jesus shows us that there’s enough healing for all.
Mark 5:2-8, 14b-15
And when he had stepped out of the boat, immediately a man from the tombs with an unclean spirit met him. He lived among the tombs, and no one could restrain him any more, even with a chain, for he had often been restrained with shackles and chains, but the chains he wrenched apart, and the shackles he broke in pieces, and no one had the strength to subdue him. Night and day among the tombs and on the mountains he was always howling and bruising himself with stones. When he saw Jesus from a distance, he ran and bowed down before him, and he shouted at the top of his voice, “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I adjure you by God, do not torment me.” For he had said to him, “Come out of the man, you unclean spirit!” Then people came to see what it was that had happened. They came to Jesus and saw the man possessed by demons sitting there, clothed and in his right mind, the very man who had had the legion, and they became frightened.
The cleaning crew members alongside me have experienced miraculous healing but continue to fight legal, social, and justice systems that often don’t want to believe they’ve changed. We are often frightened by the changes Jesus’ love brings about, but that doesn’t stop Jesus from showing us how our God works in unconventional ways and through unexpected people.
As the Spirit was tending to my broken heart with these stories, I was reminded that this tent neighborhood was filled with God’s beloved, people who are profoundly and unconditionally loved by their Creator. Siblings who were created from the same dust as me, and called very good.
I’ve never believed in God’s love for God’s people as much as I did that morning.
Though I didn’t say much but a “good morning” here and there and offer a smile to those who noticed my presence, I am confident that God was at work that morning. That God was meeting people at the healing pool and seeing their pain and loving them without abandon.
Because when people asked me “are you a priest?” I could say yes.3
And I love that image, friends.
A woman in a collar, a representative of this wildly loving God, proclaiming that there is no place God will not go to be with God’s people. The margins are not too far off. The addiction and mental illness and systemic problem of homelessness does not scare away this God.
No, our God goes all the way to the cross, touching every broken part of our human lives. Entering into it, staying in it with us, redeeming it.
As I stood at the brick wall - at the foot of the cross - I was reminded that if we want to find God, then we should go searching for those who live among the tombs and who have been wading outside the healing pools for 30 years without any reprieve.
Because that’s where our God hangs out.
That’s where our God meets us.
On the wooden cross of our deepest human suffering.4
✝
Blessed Good Friday, friends. There is no place God will not go to be with you. 🖤
These reflections, experiences, and dedicated time for writing is thanks to the generosity of The Reverend Janet Karvonen-Montgomery Preaching Fellowship from Luther Seminary. You can learn more about Rev Janet and the Fellowship here.
Tomorrow is Holy Saturday and another reflection is headed your way. Consider subscribing if you want to read it along with more of my Fellowship ponderings.
I went to Mass & Cass in September, and the encampment was cleared out in November. I don’t know what the current status of it is, but if you’re interested in learning more, a quick google search will bring up many articles about it.
One of the most important parts of this work is listening to your own body and setting boundaries. We can only care for others after we first care for ourselves.
Note for any ELCA polity people who will read this: I don’t consider myself a priest and I am not an ordained pastor yet. However, I affirm whatever understanding people have of a collar rather than explaining the complexity of church leadership. And I believe that when I minister, I am a priest, one of many in the priesthood of all believers.
Rev. Debbie Little told me in our conversation together, “In the indoor church, I could get from any Gospel to a street story in like two sentences.” She is completely right.
It's hard to read the whole thing through the tears in my eyes. You are an incredible human, and the way you translate the Gospel into real life is a gift to everyone.