I delight greatly in the Lord;
my soul rejoices in my God.
For he has clothed me with garments of salvation
and arrayed me in a robe of his righteousness,
as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest,
and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels. (Isaiah 61:10 NIV)
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The woman had been watching Jesus from the edge of the crowd. As an outcast, she wasn’t supposed to be in the crowd, but had heard stories about the healings he was doing. After twelve years, she was desperate for anything that might stop the bleeding. In the jostle of the crowd, she kept her head down but her eyes focused on this healer as she edged her way toward him. He had been following someone else – talking with the man – when she finally got within reach. Someone in the crowd pushed her and she reached out to the healer, her fingers just grazing the hem of his garment as she fell to her knees.
“Who touched me?” a strong, but kind voice asked.
The crowd went silent. She felt like all eyes were on her, even though no one knew. She lay in the dust wondering what to do, memorizing the frayed and dirty hem of his robe above his dusty sandals. But inside she knew something was radically different. The bleeding had stopped, and there was a sudden and newfound peace instead. Slowly her eyes lifted and met his. “I did.”
“Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace.”
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It had been several hours since the guards had gambled for the criminal’s robe. As Roman soldiers, they were used to the almost daily crucifixions; the government knew how to squash uprisings and keep the “Pax Romana” – the Roman Peace. But the guard realized that this “criminal” was different.
First, there were people who stayed around him as he hung on that cross; generally executions garnered only a passing glance from travelers on the road. Then, the “King of the Jews” sign above his head angered the religious authorities – and why should they care about the sign, if the Romans were eliminating this threat to the republic? Finally, the world went black and the centurion, along with many others, wondered why. As he held the man’s intact robe, the realization came to him: “Surely, this man was the Son of God!”
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The priests were huddled together in the sudden and unexplained darkness. This Passover had been like no other, culminating with the hurried trials of that itinerant teacher whose words constantly upset them. This morning he was turned over to the Romans; hopefully, now, things would calm down and life in Jerusalem could get back to normal. They had been doing about the normal Temple business when, suddenly, the midday sun was gone. Only a few candles were still lit in the Temple; otherwise, the landscape was suddenly plunged into the deepest darkness anyone could remember.
As the priests glanced at each other, their robes and other priestly garments barely visible in the flickering candlelight, they must have wondered why this particular man drew such a following. As they pondered this question, they heard a loud ripping sound. From top to bottom, the curtain separating the Holy Place from the Most Holy Place had been torn in two. Mouths agape, the shock of this was accompanied by a yell from outside: IT IS FINISHED.
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God,
As we remember these stories, help us remember our identities as your beloved children. With joy, help us to wear the garments of salvation and the robes of righteousness in which you have clothed us. We ask this in Jesus’s name, AMEN.
The curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. And when the centurion, who stood there in front of Jesus, saw how he died, he said, “Surely this man was the Son of God!” (Mark 15:38-39 NIV)
(Stories above from Mark 9 and 15.)