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For the Women Who Hear “You Can’ts” – An Easter Story of Hope


It was a Sunday morning my senior year of college. I was sitting in church with my fiancé and his family as I thought about how nice the service was: the music was incredible and the people were really friendly.

But then came the sermon.

I began to feel a little uneasy when the pastor started reading 1 Corinthians 14 about women remaining silent in the church. And things only got worse when the pastor continued to preach about how women had their own special “roles” in the faith community… And that these “roles” did not include teaching adult men, preaching, or serving as pastors, among other things.

This greatly troubled me… as I had been raised in a church with a female pastor, in a family where women were seen as equal to men and could be anything they wanted to be, and where I – myself – started to feel called into ministry in high school.

At a young age, I met and had fallen in love with a Jesus who loved me for who I truly was and who – despite my struggles, faults, and failures – kept washing my feet, calling me his “beloved,” and for some odd reason kept urging and empowering me to follow him.

But there – on that Sunday morning with my fiancé and soon-to-be in-laws – this Jesus I loved was being silenced. He was being beaten down, spit on, and mocked.

And this was not the only place I heard these messages… I had been hounded by “you cant’s” because I was a woman in my campus ministry since my freshman year and would continue to be hounded by them later in my marriage for many years until my divorce.

The Jesus I knew for so long – who had been my true friend, advocate, and encourager – was on trial and the prosecutors were winning. And I began to fear that I would never see or hear from him again.


I wonder if this was how the women who knew and loved Jesus felt as they watched him from afar during his arrest, his trials, and as he slowly and painfully journeyed toward the cross.

The Jesus who had allowed women to touch his cloak, rub his feet with their hair, sit in the places where disciples sat, and who rebuked the men who criticized such women was now being spit on and mocked. The Jesus who not only taught these women the Scriptures but also empowered them to speak their voices and allowed them to accompany him on his ministry was now being flogged. The Jesus who had loudly and boldly proclaimed that these women – “the least of these” – were just as cherished and beloved in God’s Kingdom as any man was now being silenced, as he was forced to walk – with a crown of thorns on his head and a heavy cross over his back – toward his violent death.

I wonder what those women who loved this radical Jesus thought as they gazed up through their tears at his broken and bloody body as it hung silently and still on the cross.

Would they ever see or hear from him again? Were they really going to be cherished in the Kingdom of God or was all that he had proclaimed and done for them done in vain? Was Jesus truly the One he said he was or did they completely misunderstand him?

Who would advocate for them now?

Their grief, confusion, and anger over the loss of their beloved Jesus must have been incredibly overwhelming as they heard Jesus cry out in anguish on that dark night: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” and watched him take his final breath.

And yet, in the midst of this grief, confusion, and anger, some of these women decided to go back to his tomb after he was buried. We don’t know why. It may have been the same reason they chose to follow him to the cross, while almost all of Jesus’ other disciples bailed out on him.

Maybe they wanted to make sure the tomb was being taken care of, just like he had made sure they were taken care of. Maybe they needed more opportunities to say what they didn’t have the chance to say to Jesus before his arrest. Maybe they thought they would feel closer to him if they were close to his body.

Or maybe they held onto hope that this Jesus really was the One he said he was, and that death would not defeat him.

Whatever the reason, they went back to the tomb.

And it must have been a shocking and horrifying moment when the women found the tomb empty. Had someone stolen Jesus’ body? What did this mean for them now?

And yet, they must have been even more shocked when they were greeted by their loving Jesus, himself – before anyone else – and were commissioned by him to be the bearers of the good news of his resurrection.

The Jesus they knew and loved really was the One he said he was. And this Jesus who loved, advocated for, and empowered them before his arrest was now continuing to do so in and through his very death and resurrection.


When I felt voiceless as I heard and watched others mock and deny the Jesus I knew and loved, no matter how strong and loud their voices were, I could not give up hope that Jesus might still be the One I had experienced him to be. And so I followed him on that long, bumpy road toward his death. There were times when I felt hopeless: at the bottom of the cross, gazing up at what seemed to be just a broken and bloody body hanging silently from it.

And yet, somehow I felt a constant urge to keep returning to his tomb. To see if he was still there. To see if he was, indeed, the One I knew him to be long before. And though there were times I felt alone when I found the tomb empty, after continuously returning to it, I finally realized that those loud voices that led him to his crucifixion did not, in fact, win.

For there standing in front of me was the very Jesus I knew and loved for so long: calling out to and commissioning me – his beloved – to go out and spread this great news of his resurrection to all who fear that his death would keep him away forever.


For all the women out there whose loving Jesus has been crucified before your very own eyes: may you find hope in this Easter Story, as well. When others around you ridicule, spit on, and beat down the Jesus who has claimed and cherished you, follow him to the cross. When you witness his crucifixion, visit his tomb… over and over and over again.

The promise in this Easter story is that no matter how loud those voices are around you that mock and deny your Jesus, death will not defeat him. And though these voices wish to silence him, he is proclaiming on your behalf louder than ever as he hangs silently and still from the cross.

And in a few days time, the Jesus you once knew and loved will appear to you in full form – claiming you as his own and commissioning you – his beloved – to speak your voice and share this good news.


(This post was first posted on musingfromabricolage.wordpress.com in 2014 as a contribution to the Stories of Easter syncroblog hosted by Convergent Books.)


Rev. Emily Heitzman is an ordained Presbyterian (USA) pastor serving as the shared Pastor with Youth and Households at three ELCA congregations in the neighborhood of Edgewater in Chicago: Unity Lutheran, Ebenezer Lutheran, and Immanuel Lutheran.  She runs a collaborative, multicultural youth group that consists of youth from the three congregations as well as youth from the neighborhood. Emily loves hiking in the mountains, attending indie and bluegrass concerts, biking along Lake Michigan, and singing opera and musical theatre. She has a heart for youth, justice, and the Huskers, and can often be seen with coffee or a Guinness. Emily is one of the writers for The Pastoral Is Political feature on HTTPS://REVGALBLOGPALS.ORG. You can find more of her reflections, sermons, and youth ministry ideas on her blog at HTTP://MUSINGSFROMABRICOLAGE.WORDPRESS.COM and connect with her on twitter at @PASTOREMILYH.

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We Need The Cross


Well, it’s Good Friday, and if I am honest with you, sometimes I wish we could go from celebrating Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday directly to celebrating Jesus’ resurrection on Easter Sunday… and skipping everything in between.

But isn’t this true for many of us?  Isn’t it common for us to want to avoid and skip over the cross: to avoid the suffering and injustice that is constantly taking over the lives of those around us?

And yet, as followers of Jesus, we are called to be resurrection people, living lives here and now that proclaim the promise of new life to both our neighbors and ourselves.  And to avoid and skip over the pain and suffering of those around us and even within our own lives is to choose to not accept and proclaim new, everlasting life.  For we know that we cannot have and experience the resurrection without first experiencing what comes before it.

And so those joyful shouts of “Hosannas” we shouted as we waved our palm branches this past Sunday have now become angry shouts of “Crucify!”

But this is life, isn’t it? There have and will be times in our lives when we think we are just about out of the wilderness; just about ready to see and experience new life… But just as we begin waving our palm branches and shouting “Hosanna! Salvation has come!” – things unexpectedly take a downhill turn. Those we trust the most may turn on us and betray us, the crowds around us might spit on us and mock us, and what looks like our escape from captivity sometimes ends up being the very thing that captures us and leads us on our own painful journey on a dirty and bumpy road through Jerusalem.

But it is in these times when we need the cross the most. It is in these times when we realize that we – indeed – need a God who was not only resurrected but who also walked a similar path. That we need a God who knows what it’s like to experience broken relationships, grieve the loss of loved ones, watch those closest to him look directly in the face of injustice, and be betrayed by friends and ridiculed by crowds. And when things get really dark, we need a God who knows what it is like to feel completely and utterly alone and abandoned – even by his own Father, even by God – to the point where he cried out in his final moments of anguish and pain: “Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?”

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

When we skip over and avoid the cross, we miss out on a God who is with us in the flesh, walking alongside us as we walk what may sometimes be a long, lonely road.

But to skip out on the cross also causes us to miss out on a radical and bold Jesus we are all called to follow.  For, it was Jesus’ loud, subversive voice that challenged injustice and proclaimed on behalf of the “least of these” that got him into trouble in the first place and led him to be silenced on the cross.

But – although those who nailed Jesus there did so to suppress him, and after Jesus breathed his last breath, the temple curtain tore in two, the earth shook, and the rocks split.

Death did not have the final say that dark night.

And after a few days, we will realize that Jesus’ voice was shouting and proclaiming louder than ever before as his broken and bloody body hung silently and still on the cross.

Brothers, sisters, siblings: we need the cross.  

So as we enter Good Friday, let us follow Jesus toward it – remembering – as we do – that he is right alongside us as we take every step.  Because when we do follow him, we might be overwhelmed at how much we really do need this loud, radical, and personal Jesus of the cross that we too often miss – the One who will soon lead us past the cross and onto the empty tomb.


  • When were some of your own times of suffering and pain where you’ve encountered Jesus alongside with you?  Did you see Jesus in the midst of those times or after you moved through those times and looked back on them?
  • How have you seen Jesus present in the midst of all the suffering around us in our country and world that is taking place today?
  • How are you helping your youth look to the cross and see this radical Jesus challenging unjust systems?
  • How are you helping (or can you help) your youth see Jesus’ presence in the midst of suffering and hope in new life that comes after the cross?

Rev. Emily Heitzman is an ordained Presbyterian (USA) pastor serving as the shared Pastor with Youth and Households at three ELCA congregations in the neighborhood of Edgewater in Chicago: Unity Lutheran, Ebenezer Lutheran, and Immanuel Lutheran.  She runs a collaborative, multicultural youth group that consists of youth from the three congregations as well as youth from the neighborhood. Emily loves hiking in the mountains, attending indie and bluegrass concerts, biking along Lake Michigan, and singing opera and musical theatre. She has a heart for youth, justice, and the Huskers, and can often be seen with coffee or a Guinness. Emily is one of the writers for The Pastoral Is Political feature on HTTPS://REVGALBLOGPALS.ORG. You can find more of her reflections, sermons, and youth ministry ideas on her blog at HTTP://MUSINGSFROMABRICOLAGE.WORDPRESS.COM and connect with her on twitter at @PASTOREMILYH.

Maundy Thursday: You’ve Been Served


It’s Maundy Thursday, and today we recall Jesus gathering his disciples together before the festival of Passover for a meal… The very last meal he has with them before he heads toward the cross.

In John, we see that Jesus gets up from the table in the middle of dinner, takes off his outer robe, and ties a towel around himself. Then he does something that would have shocked his disciples… Something that only a servant would have done for a houseguest. He gets down on the ground on his hands and knees, pours water into a basin, and then begins to wash his disciples’ feet. As he gets to Simon Peter, Peter calls out to Jesus in complete bewilderment: “Lord, are you seriously washing our feet?! You, my Lord and Rabbi, can never wash my feet!”

I completely relate to Peter. I understand how it may have been incredibly baffling for Jesus to serve me… at the place, only a disciple of a rabbi would sit.

Why in the world would Jesus sit at my feet… and wash them as a servant would do, for Pete’s sake!?

As a pastor who tested off the charts as a #2 on the Enneagram “The Helper,” I tend to give and serve… and serve and give… and give and serve. This can be a great asset for a pastor – for someone who is in the human services field. And yet, this can also be my greatest detriment. I tend to give and serve so much that I have difficulties saying “no.” And when all of the “yeses” add up, I end up sacrificing my own time for myself.

I give and serve so much that I struggle to give up control to others who have great ideas and resources.

I give and serve so much that I make little time to take care of myself.

I give and serve so much, that I end up not allowing others to sit at my feet and wash them… To serve me every once in a while. I think sometimes I forget that am also Jesus’ beloved… That deserve this, too.

And eventually, it all catches up with me.

I will never forget when I first started hanging out with my husband, Jonathan. I had previously been in a marriage where I was often giving and serving and caretaking, and this was rarely being reciprocated. And so when Jonathan had me over to make me homemade meatloaf and mashed potatoes, I immediately went into his kitchen and picked up the pan. Jonathan stopped me, grabbed my hand, and walked me to the dining room. “Sit,” he said. “Sometimes you just need to allow others to serve you.”

It was a foreign feeling. And yet, as I began this practice of receiving service from others, I felt liberated. I felt renewed. And I felt more equipped to better serve others in my ministry and personal life.

For Jesus, this act of allowing him and others to serve us is a crucial practice. He later explains to his disciples that he has set out an example of how they are to love others. And that just as he – their Lord and Rabbi – washes their feet and serves them, they ought to do so for one another. And yet, they cannot fully love and serve others without first allowing themselves to be served.

We must not forget that as pastors and youth workers we, too, cannot give, serve, love, and care for our parishioners, youth, and their families without first being served… By Jesus and by so many of our siblings who are called to be Christ’s hands and feet to us.

Because when we do allow our feet to be washed, we just might be surprised at how much we really needed to be cleansed so that we might be better equipped to return this loving act.


  • Do you have a tendency to say “yes” to too many things that you struggle to take care of yourself?  What happens to you (your mental, physical, and spiritual well-being) and to your relationships when this takes place?  How can you work on saying “no” and taking better care of yourself in these times?
  • Do you have difficulty allowing others to serve you?  If so, why? Where does that come from? Who are some people you can start asking to help you and serve you?  
  • What are some spiritual practices, social groups, and fun activities that give you joy?  Look at your calendar and schedule time for some of these things in the next few months. When you do these activities/practices, think about how you see Jesus present in the midst of them, offering you love, peace, renewal, and joy.  

Rev. Emily Heitzman is an ordained Presbyterian (USA) pastor serving as the shared Pastor with Youth and Households at three ELCA congregations in the neighborhood of Edgewater in Chicago: Unity Lutheran, Ebenezer Lutheran, and Immanuel Lutheran.  She runs a collaborative, multicultural youth group that consists of youth from the three congregations as well as youth from the neighborhood. Emily loves hiking in the mountains, attending indie and bluegrass concerts, biking along Lake Michigan, and singing opera and musical theatre. She has a heart for youth, justice, and the Huskers, and can often be seen with coffee or a Guinness. Emily is one of the writers for The Pastoral Is Political feature on HTTPS://REVGALBLOGPALS.ORG. You can find more of her reflections, sermons, and youth ministry ideas on her blog at HTTP://MUSINGSFROMABRICOLAGE.WORDPRESS.COM and connect with her on twitter at @PASTOREMILYH.

Commandment Thursday and the Three Holy Days


Maundy” derives from the Latin word “mandatum,” meaning commandment.

On this Maundy Thursday, we recall Jesus gathering with close friends/disciples for their last meal together. During the gathering, he drops to his knees and starts washing his disciples’ feet – an act that only a servant would do for a houseguest. Then Jesus says to his disciples: “You call me Teacher and Lord. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.”

Later, he tells his disciples a commandment: “Just as I have loved you, so too, should you love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

As we begin our journey through the Three Holy Days, may we remember what it means to love as Jesus has loved:

To bring good news to the poor.
To proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind.
To let the oppressed go free.
To proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.

To feed the hungry.
To give drink to the thirsty.
To welcome the stranger.
To clothe the naked.
To take care of the sick.
To visit those in prison.

May we choose to love one another, just as Jesus commands us to do.


Rev. Emily Heitzman is an ordained Presbyterian (USA) pastor serving as the shared Pastor with Youth and Households at three ELCA congregations in the neighborhood of Edgewater in Chicago: Unity Lutheran, Ebenezer Lutheran, and Immanuel Lutheran.  She runs a collaborative, multicultural youth group that consists of youth from the three congregations as well as youth from the neighborhood. Emily loves hiking in the mountains, attending indie and bluegrass concerts, biking along Lake Michigan, and singing opera and musical theatre. She has a heart for youth, justice, and the Huskers, and can often be seen with coffee or a Guinness. Emily is one of the writers for The Pastoral Is Political feature on HTTPS://REVGALBLOGPALS.ORG. You can find more of her reflections, sermons, and youth ministry ideas on her blog at HTTP://MUSINGSFROMABRICOLAGE.WORDPRESS.COM and connect with her on twitter at @PASTOREMILYH.

 

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