The shape of an egg is unmistakable even as simple as it is. This means that all sorts of things can be called “eggs” even if they have no yolk and no capacity to form and deliver new life. The Easter Eggs our little ones will hunt on Sunday have a hard plastic shell filled with sugary goodness. The mini chocolate eggs I keep hidden in my desk drawer have a hard candy shell with the best possible filling (in my humble opinion). There are famous eggs like those of the Fabergé variety and simple eggs we pull out of our garage for decoration every year. The only thing these all have in common is their shape.

This Sunday we will enter into the accounts and drama of the most important week of our liturgical calendar, Holy Week. As I preached on Sunday, we find great depths in the tension of two seemingly contrary things coming together to convey intrinsic truths. I quoted this from Francis Spufford’s article, “Where’s the next brick?” found on the Mockingbird site, “God the creator of all things… came closest to us in paradoxes. Wisdom, in foolishness; strength, in weakness; sovereignty over the immense empire of matter, in helpless self-sacrifice, in a choking man brought to death by a shrugging government.” This Sunday will offer us the most powerful example of such paradoxes as we gather for Palm Sunday.

“What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else?” - Romans 8:31-32

Dear friends, I write this to you in advance of Spring Break while we continue in the season of Lent. The verse above was cited in the Lenten devotion we are reading at Holy Spirit by Henri Nouwan (if you have not picked one up, we still have a few).

The “how much more so” type of phrase shows up in various ways and places in scripture to make the point of how valuable we are to God and how much we can be assured that God will take care of us. Another wonderful example is from Matthew 6: “Look at the birds of the air; they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?” The season of Lent is fertile with possible themes and nuances all meant to bring us closer to the hope we have in Jesus. A foundation for them all is the promise that we matter to God above all else.

As we look out at our pollen covered cars and the return of leaves to the trees, the relief of Spring brings an anticipation of Easter relief. I shared in my homily at our 5:00 service this past week the early signs of the imminence of spring when we lived in New York. One of the first flowers to show that the new life of blooming plants was on the way were the Daffodils. It was not uncommon to look at a bank along the road with snow still layered and see a little daffodil poking up through the shiny white surface, the yellow bloom standing out as a signal and promise of things to come. One of the things we did in my time there was to plant four bulbs at every tombstone in the ancient graveyard around the church. Our imagination was that the juxtaposition of the bright yellow flowers arriving at each grave would be a poignant cue for the promise of resurrection and new life for the whole community.

This past weekend, I went to Galveston with our Diocesan Council delegates to be a part of the work and ministry of the broader church in the Diocese of Texas. Many things take place at this annual meeting of people from all across the diocese. We worship and pray together. We hear about various ministries like the college chaplaincies, mission teams, and outreach endeavors. We elect people to diocesan boards and hear financial reports. The part of council I always find moving (dare I say the MOST moving?) is when congregants of new parishes proudly process into Council together. They take turns ringing the mission bell to celebrate that they are officially becoming a new part of the life of our church and there is a long held standing ovation. There is something about the new life and hope that comes when witnessing the birth of a new worshiping community.

Throughout the year we offer special worship services that are meant to create an extra bit of space for you to be inspired and enriched. When imagining how these special opportunities might serve our community, Stephen and I think about how to create a space for all of us to be still enough for just a moment to be surprised and inspired by the eternal story and promise of God’s love. In my purest hope for you I imagine an “oh wow” moment in which distractions fade into the background and the most important thing for all of us crystalizes. I know, it sounds ambitious. That said, almost every time we have had a special service together, I believe this has happened. God creates a space of respite and inspiration for us. It is to this possibility that Stephen, our choir, and our readers devote themselves this Sunday.

Leading up to the game between the Lakers and the Thunder on Tuesday, there were plenty of questions about how Kareem Abdul-Jabbar would feel about LeBron breaking his all-time scoring record of 38,387 points. When LeBron shot the fated fade away jumper with every person in the crowd holding up their phones to document the moment, Kareem stood waiting on the sideline to congratulate and celebrate the feat of having scored more than any other player ever had. In an article he published on Wednesday Abdul-Jabbar wrote, “Bottom line about LeBron and me: LeBron makes me love the game again. And he makes me proud to be part of an ever-widening group of athletes who actively care about their community.” Rather then losing the record, Abdul-Jabbar celebrated the amazing success of a successor who inspired him.