We begin Ash Wednesday with an open invitation. Instead of inviting people to focus internally on fasting and self-deprivation during Lent, this parable invites us into a communal feast. 

The host of the party sends a servant to search the entire city to bring people in: “Go to the highways and back alleys and urge people to come in so that my house will be filled.”(CEB)  

Though the net is cast wide, too many guests deny the invitation, instead focusing on their individual concerns. 

Yet, the host’s invitation is persistent. They search high and low for the dispossessed and the vulnerable, perhaps those who are hungry to accept the invitation. 

As guests are gathered in, the miracle is that there is still room. There is more love and abundance available, if only we are present to accept it.

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John’s Gospel doesn’t begin with a temptation story but instead opens Jesus’ ministry with a wedding miracle. It may feel a bit lavish to start the season of Lent with a wedding banquet, but the good news begins with joy. 

This week we focus on the subversive and playful nature of the good news. The kin-dom of heaven is so good it should catch us by surprise! 

Like a mustard seed, the good news can grow from the smallest seed into the tallest tree. Like an unruly weed, or fine wine saved for last, the good news is abundant and cannot be contained. 

As we sink into Jesus’ teachings throughout the season, we may not always be comfortable, but we can trust that these teachings are good, rooted in love, and worthy of celebration.

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Simon and some Pharisees host a dinner for Jesus and an unexpected guest arrives: a woman from the city who kneels at Jesus’ feet and washes him with expensive perfume. 

Simon scoffs at this party foul, but Jesus reorients his focus, asking him to truly see the woman and recognize that she has shown “great love,” offering the tender hospitality he was not granted when he entered Simon’s home. 

The woman with the alabaster jar shows a shocking, extravagant love that exemplifies the Greatest Commandment: to love God with all your heart, soul, and mind and to love your neighbor as yourself. Will the other guests see that loving God goes hand in hand with loving neighbor? 

We’ve paired this story with Jesus’ words in Matthew 25. When we care for the hungry, the naked, the imprisoned—each of whom are created in the image of God—we are showing love for God, too.

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As Jesus and his disciples head to a deserted place, perhaps seeking peace and quiet, many from the surrounding towns follow them. Instead of turning them away, Jesus expresses compassion and begins an impromptu teaching session. 

As the day goes on, the disciples have logistics in mind and urge Jesus to send the people back into the villages so they can feed themselves. Instead, Jesus presents them with an impossible task: “You give them something to eat.”

 Dumbfounded, the disciples can only fathom the limitations and financial constraints of Jesus’ suggestion. Yet when they “go and see,” their meager provisions multiply so that thousands are fed. 

This week we focus on building networks of collective care in order to meet people’s needs. Jesus models a way to be in community by coming together and sharing what we have, dispelling perceived impossibilities. The good news empowers us to believe in the miracles that can become possible through the power of community.

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In many modern contexts, it may seem sweet that Jesus welcomed little children; however, in Jesus’ setting, spending time with children would have seemed wasteful or useless.

 When Jesus blesses a crowd of children (after the disciples rebuke them and try to send them away), he once again reorients socially-constructed hierarchies to center the vulnerable. 

Throughout his ministry, Jesus emphasized the last, the least, and the lost, building upon the mandates of the Hebrew scriptures to care for the immigrant, widow, and orphan among you. 

Deuteronomy repeatedly reminds the Israelites, “you were once slaves in Egypt.” Their memory of oppression should impel them to provide for anyone under-resourced or cut off from the protection of a household. 

Similarly, Jesus uplifting children is a reminder that we were all once children and we have all been vulnerable at some point in our lives, relying on the protection and care of others. 

If we’re truly living out the good news, then anyone vulnerable will not only be protected from harm, but cared for so they have the chance to thrive.

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As we move toward Holy Week, we acknowledge the ways Jesus’ ministry was increasingly at odds with the religious leaders who prioritized loyalty to legality and perceived Jesus’ teachings as a threat. 

While Jesus is teaching in the Temple, some scribes and Pharisees interrupt Jesus to put both him—and a woman caught in adultery—on trial. Their questioning intensifies as they cite Mosaic Law and put the woman’s fate in Jesus’ hands. 

Instead of focusing on punishment, Jesus flips the script and invites each person to consider their own sin; Jesus defuses the spectacle by condemning no one. 

Much of Jesus’ teachings were grounded in his understanding of the Torah; however, many of his actions called for reinterpreting the law. 

As we wrestle with our own rules, we should ask, “What is the most just, merciful, and faithful interpretation?”

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Roman triumph usually occurred during the week of Passover as a show of Rome’s might. The governor would have been surrounded by the wealthiest and most powerful citizens. 

In contrast, Jesus’ march is for the people—all the people: the hungry, the poor, the afraid. As Jesus enters Jerusalem, the crowd responds to Jesus’ authenticity and humility. Perhaps they can see past the pageantry of the Roman parade; in contrast, the goodness of Jesus’ leadership shines through, mobilizing the crowds to take action by throwing cloaks in the street and waving palm branches in the air. The energy is infectious, a climactic moment in the grassroots movement of Jesus’ ministry. 

This week’s subtheme intentionally places us in the crowd, inviting us to shout “Hosanna!,” to throw our coats down, and to wave branches. What will the good news inspire us to do? How will the gospel move us? As we head into Holy Week, how will we put Jesus’ teachings into practice? 

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Knowing he is nearing the end, Jesus surrounds himself with his closest friends. Though he is very aware of who will betray him, he doesn’t exclude Judas or Peter from the table. 

In modern times, we might have canceled Judas, but Jesus chooses to care for him instead, offering him bread and cup and loving care. Jesus doesn’t define Judas by his worst act. 

If we put ourselves in Judas’ shoes, it really is good news that nothing can separate us from God’s love. We are not judged by our worst actions, which means we are called to extend grace to others too. 

The good news is that God’s radical, unstoppable love extends to all people—even to those who wrong us, even to us on our worst days.

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Where is the good news on Good Friday? Where do we see glimpses of goodness within an awful, brutal story? 

Jesus kisses the one who betrays him. He exclaims, “No more!” in the fury of drawn swords, offering healing instead. He uses his final breaths to plead for forgiveness for those who have crucified him. Jesus is stripped of all decency and humanity, yet his actions reveal the good news of a peaceful God. 

Meanwhile, the actions of others around him— the betrayals, the mocking, the derision, the mob mentality, and the violence— reveal who we are at our worst. 

The Passion narrative tears down any facade. Everything is revealed in this moment, for better and for worse. The good news is Jesus’ ministry is not defeated by death—it is only interrupted. More will be revealed on the third day.  

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