A barrage of quotations has saturated social media in the wake of the bombings. I’ve seen posts offering soundbites from Mr. Rogers, Frederick Buechner, Martin Luther King, and Isaac Watts (among others), as well as numerous verses from the Psalms and the Book of Proverbs.  Many of them admittedly are trite – but we all reach out for something close at hand when our feet are knocked out from under us.  I am no different.  Quotes from the Sermon on the Mount have been scrolling through my mind this morning like a cable news ticker.

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted….  Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled…. Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy….  Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God…. 

You are the salt of the earth….  You are the light of the world….  You are the light of the world…. You are the light of the world….

A light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it….

That “You are the light of the world” bit always repeats a few times when it comes around, and John 1.5 inevitably bleeds into Matthew 5.14.  Then the cycle begins again.

I think Jesus’ words about light and John’s words about Jesus are both needed whenever night falls – especially when it falls in the middle of the day.  I firmly believe that there is a divine spark that glows inside all of us as men and women created in the image of God.  Jesus affirms that.  He also cautions us against hiding it – intentionally or unintentionally – and bids us to let it shine for all to see.  Yet, we can let our light can shine in more ways than one.   It can shine like dawn breaking on the horizon or like lighting cutting across the sky. It can shine like the fire that warms our hearth or like the fire that consumes our house.  We can choose.

Both forms of light were on display in Boston yesterday afternoon: the blasts that cut through stone, steel, and flesh and the warmth of those who responded and continue to respond – on the scene, across the nation, and around the world.  Both forms of light reflect conscious choices people have made.  Thankfully, warmth appears to be winning out over searing heat – so far.  ‘The helpers,” as Fred Rogers calls them in one of those social media quotes, have come out in force.  Whatever the bomber(s) destroyed yesterday, it was not our spirit.  Our light is shining!  But that doesn’t mean this night is over – or that another one isn’t around the corner.

There is no declaration in Matthew or John (or Mark or Luke or anywhere else in the New Testament, for that matter) that darkness is no more.  The promise we have is that a light shines in the darkness, and the darkness will not snuff it out.  Good Friday will always be followed by Easter Sunday.

The bombs at the Boston Marathon finish line went off just before 3pm.  Darkness fell across the land around 3pm when Jesus hung dying on the cross, too.  He was bruised, bloodied, and broken.  He breathed His last.  Night fell.  Easter did not vanquish that darkness: pain, suffering, fear, cowardice, betrayal, abuse of power, and a whole host of other injustices still haunt our world.  No, Easter did not vanquish that darkness.  Easter defies it.  Easter proves that night does not, cannot, and will not prevail.  Easter is God’s declaration that dawn breaks, it is not broken.   A light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it….

May we all  stand firmly in that Easter hope in the days ahead. May we choose to let our light shine as a flame that warms but does not burn. And may we resist the temptation to start fighting fire with fire.  The night is long enough as it is.

Friday – Today I got sick (some sort of flu-like thing).  I spent about half the day in bed.  The thought crossed my mind that this thing (whatever it was) was a good excuse to break my fast, if I wanted to.  I decided to stick with it, however.  It doesn’t take too much energy or stamina to make a pb&banana sandwich.  I wished my stir-fry was already made when I forced myself into the kitchen to make it, but standing over the steaming skillet turned out to be good for the sinuses.  I threw in some cayenne pepper and that really helped open things up – at least temporarily.  The one liberty I took was a very small bowl of cereal I ate around 4:30/5:00pm – almost dinner time.  The church preschool’s Easter program was at 6:00pm and it is customary for the pastor to participate.  An extra motivation this year was that my daughters were in the program.  I was trying to get myself pulled together enough to be there and I needed to take some medicine, for which I needed something on my stomach.  So, I ate what amounted to three or four spoonfuls of rice Chex. As I chewed, it dawned on me that here was yet another example of how poverty interferes with something I take for granted.  How many times in life have I grabbed a snack in order to take an aspirin or some other form of medicine because that’s what the directions say to do?  I read it, eat it, take it, and then go – without giving it a second thought.  But if you’re poor and have to wait until later in the day – or even until the next day – to eat, what do you do?  Do you skip the medicine you need?  Or do you chance upsetting your stomach (or even risk ulcers)?

Lord, thank you for once again giving me a peek into the darkness in which others live.  Shine your light in that darkness. Amen.

I conducted a funeral at church in the morning.  The deceased, Mrs. Bender, was someone I did not know, even though she had been a member of FBCH for a number of years.  She had moved to a nursing home out of town before I became the pastor here.  The service was a small affair, with mostly family in attendance.  Following the service, Mrs. Benders two gracious sons invited everyone to a repast downstairs in the fellowship hall – and they wanted me to be there.  At first, I thought about sitting at the table with everyone but not eating.  However, I knew that would invite questions and, as I was answering those questions in my head, I couldn’t find answers that didn’t ring with self-righteousness.  Jesus’ words in Matthew 6 kept coming back to me.  So, since everyone else present at the service was invited and since it would not cost me any money but it would afford me the opportunity to continue my ministry to the family, I decided it would be better in this instance to eat than not to eat.  But I determined to  limit myself to one plate of food – no seconds (which is no small challenge at a church potluck).

The meal was classic funeral food: ham, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, green bean casserole, mac-n-cheese, salad, fruit, and homemade cake.  Everything was fantastic, and chatting with the family over food was as enjoyable and edifying an experience as I had hoped.  The only thing I wish had been different was the cup of Mountain Dew I had as my beverage.  It was the only thing left when I got to the drinks table.  As far as I can remember, this was my first taste of Mountain Dew in the 21st century – and it is likely to be my last.  It was wretched.  I honestly do not know how (or why) I drunk that stuff in high school.      

The repast broke up between 2:00 and 2:30pm.  I went home to change and then came back to church to work on other things.  I swung by Giant on the way in and spent $2.69 on more half-n-half.  Interestingly enough, I started to become hungrier and hungrier as the afternoon wore on - much hungrier than I normally am, even though the quantity of food on my plate was much greater than what I am normally eating during this fast.  By the time I picked my daughters up from pre-school, my blood sugar was bottoming out.  On the drive home, I started feeling warm, then cold; my stomach was screaming for food.   That has never happened on my pb&banana/stir-fry diet.  I remembered that I had a box of raisins in my backpack (from before the fast started) and I scarfed them down before going into the house just to take the edge off.

This experience takes me straight back to the A Place at the Table film.  It really makes me wonder about the kinds of food we Americans think of as  traditional or even “normal.”.  There was a good bit of protein in the ham, but pretty much everything else on the table at the repast was a processed carb of some kind, no doubt laced with generous  quantities of sodium or sugar (if not both).   It was a very eye-opening evening.    If the goal of this fast is to learn something, then I definitely made the right decision about joining the repast.

Lord Jesus, thank you for teaching us. Help us to be attentive students (i.e. disciples).  Amen.