1-31-20 - The Blessed Child

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

Luke tell us that, when Mary and Joseph had “finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth." Then he adds,
"The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.”

Thirty years of Jesus’ earthly life, minus 40 days, are summed up in one sentence: 

“The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.”

What happens in the three years after that requires four gospels to record. But precious few of those words are about Jesus' childhood, just a short vignette of Jesus at the age of twelve, left behind at the temple where his parents find him deep in theological conversation with the rabbis. That’s about it. Later writers tried to spin some tales to fill in the gap, some of which are collected in the “gnostic gospels,” but these did not have authority for the early churches, and present an image of Jesus entirely at odds with the revelation handed down among those who knew him.

So this is what we have: “The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.” Not very specific, is it? We don’t know what Jesus liked to eat, how he got along with his brothers and sisters, did he really take up carpentry, did he talk back to his mother? This description could be true of any number of children.

In fact, it should be true of every child. Isn’t that what we want for our children? That they grow, and become strong, filled with wisdom, and that God’s favor rests with them? I wish this verse was hanging in every child’s room, to remind parents that this is what they should desire for their children, and that this is attainable. This is a wonderful prayer for children we know.

When you were growing up, did you feel strong and wise? Were you aware of standing in God’s blessing? Or did someone tell you otherwise, that you were weak or foolish, that God only blessed good little boys and girls, and you weren’t likely to qualify for God’s favor? I hope that’s not the message you got. If it was, offer that to God in prayer. Ask Jesus to erase that message and replace it with the truth of your incalculable worth in God’s eyes.

Maybe you know a child who doesn’t know how strong and wise and blessed he is. Perhaps it can become your mission to make sure she learns how wonderful she is, to be sure he knows the truth about himself. Imagine what this world could be like if every child knew herself to be blessed? We act differently when we know we’re blessed. We don’t need to fight and grab. We’re more inclined to want to bless other people, ones we know and ones we don’t.

Let’s take this summary line of Luke’s, almost a throwaway, and make it our mission statement: to grow all the children with whom we come into contact into strong, wise and blessed adults. Maybe along the way we’ll become more fully strong, wise and blessed ourselves. I can think of no better gift for the world.

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1-30-20 - The Faithful Widow

(You can listen to this reflection here.)

Today we meet one of my favorite people in all the Gospels – Anna. She was the next person the holy family encountered in the Temple that day:

There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband for seven years after her marriage, then as a widow to the age of eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshipped there with fasting and prayer night and day. At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.

Anna is yet another witness confirming what the angel told Mary and Joseph about their firstborn. Simeon recognizes him as the salvation of his people Israel; Anna speaks about him to all who were looking for Jerusalem's redemption.

Anna was widowed at a young age, and did not remarry. Perhaps her widowhood freed her to put all her focus on her relationship with God, fasting and praying in the temple, a proto-nun. We might wonder at her choice – was she just hiding? Should she have engaged the world outside more? But some people find their greatest joy in turning full-faced to God, nurturing a relationship with enough complexity to hold us for eternity. And out of that relationship they have more to give to those with whom they cross paths.

I have known people like Anna, who have suffered great loss and endured years of stress, and have become wise and beautiful, like polished stones, tempered steel, purified gold. I’ve known others whom loss has wizened and withered, turned in upon themselves and against the world. Anna, and those like her, turned to God in her loss, finding her life in God’s life. She allowed God to transform her loss into wisdom, to release in her the gift of prophecy, a holy ability to see the unseen and speak God's truth.

It’s not fun to think about our losses, but what comes to your mind when you think of great loss in your life? Maybe it’s one you’re dreading now. What was or is its effect on you? Where is God in that unfolding? Are there gifts you can name that have arisen in you because of that loss?

Maybe the pain is still acute, still fresh. Sometimes it is, even if much time has passed. 

Invite Jesus into that pain, to sit with you in it. Invite the Spirit to work it with you, like clay on a wheel, to bring something of beauty out of death and loss.

There's no one recipe for how to do that. I know it can happen; I’ve seen it, in people who turned God-ward in their grief and loss. And gradually, gradually, one day, like Anna, we look up and find ourselves face to face with God.

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1-29-20 - Poignant Prophecy

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

How did Mary and Joseph feel on that visit to the Temple? They were there to “redeem” their first-born with purchased sacrifice, and Mary had to undergo ritual purification after the “uncleanness” of giving birth. The Law commanded a set number of days for a mother to wait to be deemed “clean” again. (33 if she gave birth to a boy, 66 if a daughter…) Strange enough to be on such momentous errands in an intimidating place. Stranger still to encounter this old man, his eyes lighting up as he spots your baby, his hands reaching out to take him from you.

“…and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God… And the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him.”

But that’s not all Simeon had to say: “Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, ‘This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.’”

Those are cryptic phrases, “the falling and rising of many,” and “a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed.” Yet isn’t that exactly what happened in Jesus’ ministry? He was a change agent to whom people responded by rising or falling away. He became a figure of controversy. Indeed, the true thoughts of those who opposed him, the religious leaders, were often exposed as corrupt and self-protective. In many ways, Jesus still functions as a touchstone, inciting the best and the worst of human behavior and thought.

How do you present Jesus to people in your life? Do you introduce him comfortably to people who know you are a person of faith? Do you use his name in company? If it feels awkward, use his name in private more often, in prayer conversation with him, building your relationship.

Going deeper, are you ever called upon to offer a defense of Jesus, or of Christianity? (Hint – keep the focus on Jesus, not on his followers...) How do you give account of the hope that is in you?

There is a poignant element to this story. How must Mary have felt, hearing “…and a sword will pierce your heart also?” Did she remember those words as Jesus became wildly popular, then controversial, then marked for execution? Even in his infancy Jesus was our savior, on the path to redeeming the world. Our Good News encompasses pain and betrayal as well as life and freedom,  just as our lives do. Jesus walked that road for us, and now he walks it with us.

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1-28-20 - Trusting the Spirit

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

Simeon, an old man in the temple in Jerusalem, is described as “righteous and devout.” He must also have been one of the most patient human beings ever. He believed the Holy Spirit had revealed that he would not die before he’d seen the Messiah. And he held to that conviction year after year after year, growing older and closer to death. How many challenged him, called him delusional? Yet he stayed more open to the Spirit, not less. He allowed his spirit to become so aligned with the Holy Spirit that he could be guided to be just in the right place at exactly the right time.

Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying, “Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.”

How did Simeon see in this 40-day-old infant the promise he’d been waiting for all his life, and his people for generations back to Abraham? Luke tells us “the Holy Spirit rested upon him.” Simeon did more than let the Spirit rest – Simeon invited the Spirit to take up residence in him.

The Holy Spirit is God’s gift to us, given at baptism, but around us always, coming closer at the slightest invitation. We can become more attuned to being guided by the Spirit as we become more aware of his presence in us. Sometimes it feels like coincidences… until we realize there are an awful lot of them, and seem to accomplish things we might not have known to look for on our own. Or guidance comes through inner nudges that we learn not to ignore.

A woman I know felt a strong urge one day to call an uncle, whom she hadn’t spoken to in over a decade. She ignored the impulse, but it grew stronger, so she called him. It turned out to be his birthday, and she was the only person to call him. He died not long after that, and before he did they spent time together, ending a long family estrangement.

Another person came to realize that tingles she often felt up and down her spine during certain hymns or parts of worship were the presence of the Holy Spirit… she began to have little conversations when they occurred. As we’re aware the Spirit is with us and in us, we learn to trust her to guide us.

Can you remember a time recently – or not – when you’ve felt guided by the Holy Spirit? 

To talk to someone, write a note, take some action? 

Did you follow the urge? What happened? Give thanks. Remember the feeling.

What ways do you most powerfully experience the Spirit? In song? Or prayer? Or a feeling that blindsides you in conversation or an email? Name it. Learn to recognize it. We can always pray, "Come, Holy Spirit... I'm open."

I don’t have the faith of Simeon, but I have seeds of that faith in me, as do you. As we nurture it, it will grow like his did. I am learning to live by God-instinct, to trust that stream of living water flowing around me and through me – to trust its leading. Its timing is always perfect, even when it seems to take a lifetime.

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1-27-20 - The Temple, Take 1

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

This week we may get “lectionary whiplash.” We expect our Sunday gospel snippets to present the story of Jesus in a more or less linear way. Sure, we jump in a week from Jesus as a toddler visited by magi to his baptism at the age of 30 – but then we go on from there, right?

Yes, unless a church Feast Day happens to fall on a Sunday. Then it takes precedence over the ordinary sequence of readings. Next Sunday we mark the Feast of the Presentation, when Jesus' parents take him to the temple forty days after his birth, as was done for all Jewish firstborn boys. We are back at Jesus’ infancy.

When the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord (as it is written in the law of the Lord, ‘Every firstborn male shall be designated as holy to the Lord’), and they offered a sacrifice according to what is stated in the law of the Lord, ‘a pair of turtle-doves or two young pigeons.’

It seems that often when Jesus showed up in the temple he upset something or somebody – his mother, when she found him there at age 12, calmly disputing with rabbis much older than he; the tables of money changers and pigeon sellers when he did some “house-cleaning"; the Pharisees and scribes whenever he showed his face. Even here, on his first visit as a babe in arms, he will cause a stir, as we will see.

What are some of the institutions in your life into which you’d like to see Jesus enter and “cause a stir?” Make that a prayer today, asking him to bring light and truth…

Are there people and places you might carry him, like Mary and Joseph did? Not visibly, of course, but with intention? What if we all went around mentally carrying Jesus into situations that needed transforming? Including our own lives?

The story of the Presentation interrupts the flow of our Sunday readings – which is kind of like life, right? We think our story is moving one way, and suddenly something takes us back to an earlier time. Maybe because that story still has something to teach us. May that be true for us this week.

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1-24-20 - Teaching, Proclaiming, Healing

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

How do you start a ministry? 

Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.

If we substitute “our communities” for “Galilee,” and “gathering places” for “synagogues” (it’s what “synagogue” means… and there’s no reason “gathering places” is limited to church buildings…), we get a nice prescription for how to live out the Good News:
“We go through our communities, teaching in our gathering places and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.”

Wait a minute, every disease? Every sickness? That’s what it says. We don’t ever hear of Jesus meeting disease he can’t transform into wholeness. It’s what he did, and what he taught his followers to do. And it’s how he demonstrated the truth of the Good News he was proclaiming.

What we call miracles were simply Jesus demonstrating how things work when the realm or "energy" of God is released into this realm, this present reality. In Jesus, both realities were present, God life and human life. And when we invoke his name and his power, both realities are present in us too, “On earth as it is in heaven…”

In the realm of God, molecules obey the command of their creator and realign if they’re out of whack. Cells that don’t function as they were intended to come back to their purpose. Tired limbs and bodies are renewed by an infusion of power from the source of all power itself. It’s not so complicated; we just don't understand it.

We like being able to see things working. God’s healing power can be visible in outcomes, but rarely in the process. We pray and “give thanks by faith until our faith gives way to sight.” And sometimes when we don’t see the fruit of what we’ve prayed for, we turn away from the whole enterprise. Instead, we are invited to persist and release the results to God, knowing there is mystery to healing and what looks like not-healing.

Our faith in what we cannot see needs to be as strong as our doubt in what we can. We are invited to release God’s power and love into a given situation, and to continue to trust in that power and love even while we don’t see transformation. Why let apparent “no’s” stop us from exercising our faith?

When, where and how do you find yourself best proclaiming the Good News of God’s love and power? Hmmm. If you don’t know, there’s a prayer task. Ask God to show you.

And is there someone you know for whom you might offer healing prayers? Not only for him or her, but with? (You can always pray with someone in silence… it’s very powerful.)

As we follow Jesus we learn to do what he did. So let’s get out there, in our communities, teaching in our gathering places, proclaiming the good news of God’s power and love – and yes, healing every disease and sickness. One at a time…

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1-23-20 - Following Jesus

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

"Immediately they left their nets and followed him. As he went.., he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him." 

Would you have gone, if Jesus walked by your place of work and said, “Follow me?” Would you have left your job, your family, your home on the promise of “I will make you fish for people?” There wasn’t any security in what Jesus was offering. And yet he said, “Follow me,” and people did. Immediately. How could they be so sure, that they were willing to go immediately? Leave it all, no looking back.

One day I was praying, and had a sense of Jesus saying, “Follow me.” I said, “Where are we going?” A reply came quickly into my mind: “You don’t get an itinerary. You don’t get the route. When I say, ‘Follow me,’ I just mean, ‘Follow me.’ Put your focus on where I am, not where I’m going.” In other words, follow the guide, not the path.

Maybe this shouldn’t have come as a revelation, but I had never thought of it that way. Like many, I want to see what I'm committing to, what’s around the next corner. Jesus invites us not to a walk-about, but to a relationship in which we are transformed and equipped to participate in God’s work of transforming others. In Christ, we are committing to a person, not a program. Kind of like a marriage or becoming a parent… we don’t get much of a road map with those either, do we?

Want to join me in a prayer experiment? For the next week, let’s invite Jesus to lead us each day to the things and people he has blessed or intends to bless. And pray to be alive to that leading – which will mean checking in with him a few times during the day. You might set an alert on your phone or computer, or set up some regular times to stop and pray, “Where we going next, Lord?” And in the evening, take about five minutes to write down where you were led.

I commit myself to doing this. If you do, let me know if you’re surprised by anything. I believe Jesus says, “Follow me,” because he knows where we’re going. And there’s only one way for us to find out…

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1-22-20 - Fishing

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

Imagine you’re a fisherman. It’s late morning. You came in from the pre-dawn effort hours ago, and now you’re prepping your nets for the next foray. This is a routine, the same every day, yet it’s not boring. You have time to think, talk with your buddies, gossip. This is your life. Some days the catch is great, other days nonexistent, but it evens out. It’s a living, and a life.

A man comes along the shore, walking toward you… he stops, watches you for a few minutes. You’re about to say, “Can I help you?,” when he speaks. He points down the shore, in the direction he’s going. “Follow me,” he says. “I will make you fish for people.” He looks at you intently. He obviously expects you to go with him. Go with him? What the heck?

But your brother’s already dropped the net he’s repairing. He’s already out of the water. He’s giving your father a hug. He’s looking at you. “You coming?” Andrew already knows this guy. This is that rabbi, the “Lamb of God” guy. You’ve met him. But follow him? Leave everything? And what does he mean, “fishing for people?”

“From that time Jesus began to proclaim, ‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.’
As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the lake—for they were fishermen. And he said to them, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.’ Immediately they left their nets and followed him.”

I wish I knew what was so persuasive about Jesus’ invitation that Peter and Andrew, James and John all dropped what they were doing and went with him. As recruiting lines go, “I will make you fish for people” is peculiar. Who wants to fish for people? Yet there must have been something amazing about Jesus. More than that, with these few words he signals these fishermen that their purpose in life might go beyond fish. He suggests they have something to give that their fellow humans need. He will teach them how to offer the life that goes beyond mere living, to invite people into God Life.

That’s true of you and me as well. Whatever we are good at, Jesus can equip us to use those gifts to bring life to those in need of it, to bring hope to the lost, God’s “Yes!” to those who have heard more than enough of the world’s “No.”

What do you see as your primary vocation? What gifts go with that? What if, in prayer today, you offer those gifts and living to Jesus and say, “What will you make of this?” It’s called a prayer of oblation, of offering.

As you sit in silence with that prayer, what words or images come to mind? Maybe Jesus already answered you years ago – if so, how has it been, translating your human skills into Spirit-equipped ministry? What fills your imagination?

It might be easier if we had a man on a beach inviting/commanding us to follow. On the other hand, we have an advantage Peter and Andrew didn’t – we already know how the story turns out, at least their part of it. Our story is still unfolding, and we have reason to glory in it.

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1-21-20 - A Great Light

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

Matthew’s gospel often connects the events of Jesus’ life with prophecies from Israel’s past. So here he links the place where Jesus makes a home to a promise from Isaiah:

“He … made his home in Capernaum by the lake, in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali, so that what had been spoken through the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled: 

‘Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali, on the road by the sea, across the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles— the people who sat in darkness have seen a great light, and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned.’

Thus the gospel writer brings in the theme of darkness and light so prominent in our sacred story. This is one metaphor by which the followers of Jesus, and those who came after them, made meaning of this story that held so much life for them – and for us. It is easy to envision a people stuck in dim light, just going about their business with little hope of transformation or power. Imagine living room after living room lit only by the flicker of screens, televisions, tablets, game consoles, monitors. Think of people disconnected from hope, from joy, from God, from one another, and, in a profound sense,  from themselves. We all know “people who sit in darkness… in the region and shadow of death.”

The narrative Christ-followers hold close is one that breaks into that dimly lit room with light - not only light, but a Great Light. The reality of what God is up to in the humanity of Christ shines a light bright enough to dispel the deepest darkness. And we are bearers of that light – Jesus said to his followers, “You are the light of the world.”

When you think of “people who sit in darkness,” who comes to your mind? An individual? A community? Hold that person or group in your mind’s eye, and imagine light shining on them. 

Not just a little light – a steadily growing light getting brighter and brighter, just bathing that person in its glow.

This is a way of praying for people, using our imaginations. It is a way of picturing God’s blessing. And, because when we pray we are inviting the power of heaven to made real here on earth (“on earth, as it is in heaven…”), we can believe that God is blessing that person or persons. And us, as we hold them up to the light. It shines on us too.

The light has not gone away. And it has not shined only on "the road by the sea, across the Jordan…" It shines in our own lives and communities. It shines through us.

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1-20-20 - Home

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

The Son of Man may have nowhere to lay his head – but did you knew he had a lake house where he could hang his hat? Only in recent years did I notice this: "Now when Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he withdrew to Galilee. He left Nazareth and made his home in Capernaum by the lake."

I never think of Jesus having a home, once he’d left his mother’s house. And it never occurred to me that he didn't leave Nazareth right away when he began his public ministry. Perhaps even Jesus had to leave home in stages (I bet his mom did his laundry...). But the time came for him to center himself elsewhere, even if he was to be often on the move. So Capernaum, where Peter and Andrew, Philip and Nathaniel lived, became the place he went back to when he could, the center for his new and growing community of followers.

The Gospels don’t show Jesus going back much. He was on the move, forward, alive to God’s mission, making the love and justice and wholeness of God known in word and action. I wonder how much time he actually spent in Capernaum, and whether he missed it when he was on the road.

Where is home for you? Is it where it’s always been, or new? How long has it been home? Was it hard leaving your last home when you came to your current one?

And where is home for you relative to your missional activity? Is it the place you retreat to, or the place from which your ministry comes, your base of operations? My home is both. I like when it is a place of retreat for others, as it is for me.

Is there a designated place for prayer or worship in your home? Consider creating one – a corner of a room, a table and chair, a seat by a window… a place where you go to pray, light a candle, read the bible, give thanks to God, invite God’s Spirit to bless you and your projects.

The letter to the Hebrews says our ultimate home is with God in the heavenly places, that the heroes of faith we read about knew their homes on this earth were just rest stops on their journey to the heart of God’s love. Jesus knew the home he made in Capernaum was exceedingly temporary, more so than most of ours are. I hope he enjoyed his while he could, knowing his final rest would be in the true Home from which he came, the home he has promised to prepare for us.

So let's enjoy home – yet not get so comfortable we forget where we’re headed.

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1-17-20 - Name Changer

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

People don't usually assign nicknames on first meeting. Yet that’s what Jesus does when Andrew brings his brother Simon to meet him: "One of the two who heard John speak and followed [Jesus] was Andrew, Simon Peter’s brother. He first found his brother Simon and said to him, “We have found the Messiah” (which is translated Anointed)."

Andrew doesn’t need any more time with Jesus to be convinced of his identity as the Christ. And, like most of us when we make a thrilling discovery, he immediately tells those nearest and dearest to him. Having no text, phone, or Snapchat, Andrew finds his brother in person and brings him to meet Jesus. I doubt it would have been as transformative had Peter first seen a picture of Jesus on Facebook – there is something about the immediacy of presence that opens us. And Simon was about to be transformed.

"He brought Simon to Jesus, who looked at him and said, 'You are Simon son of John. You are to be called Cephas' (which is translated Peter)." No social niceties – just, "Here’s what you’re going to be called from now on."

In our scriptures, people’s names are often changed to reflect new missional identities. Abram becomes Abraham; Sarai becomes Sarah. Jacob is renamed “Israel” – a name that the whole community takes on. In the New Testament, the Hebrew-named “Saul” takes on the more Greco-Roman “Paul” some years into his ministry of evangelism among non-Jews. And here Jesus renames Simon bar Jonah “Peter,” or “Petros.”

And, as John tells the story, he does this on the strength of one look. Jesus’ renaming Simon “the Rock” might have been a teasing way of saying “hard-headed”; we do know that Peter was stubborn. Rocks are also foundations, and Jesus may have been signaling the role he intended Peter to play in his new community, a role Peter maintained even into leadership in the earliest Christian communities.

What name might Jesus give you? Perhaps you already have a sense of having another, spiritual name. If not, here’s an invitation to play in prayer. Ask God, “What is my name as you see me?”

What name would you give yourself? What name describes your essence? Think of animals, or flowers, or emotions, activities – “Peaceful Runner,” or “Dancing Bee.” I’m being random, but it could be fun and insightful, to give yourself a name that describes you.

Is this a name you want? It might describe who you have been, but not who you are becoming, or who you already are in God’s sight.

There’s an old praise song that goes, “I will change your name/You shall no longer be called wounded, outcast, lonely or afraid./I will change your name./Your new name shall be confidence, joyfulness, overcoming one; faithfulness, friend of God, one who seeks my face.”

The name God gives us conveys not only who we truly are, and who we are becoming, but how we are called to participate in God’s mission of healing and restoration. If you find yourself with a new name, look out! You may find yourself walking a new path of blessing and being blessed.

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1-16-20 - Come and See

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

We’re at the Jordan River. Jesus of Nazareth goes strolling by. John the Baptist points and says, “Look! There goes the Lamb of God.” A couple of John’s followers go, “Where? Hmmm. Maybe we should find out what that guy’s up to.” They follow Jesus. Jesus turns and says to them, “What are you looking for?”

They said to him, “Teacher, where are you staying?” He said to them, “Come and see.”

“Come and see” is a recurring refrain in the Gospels. Angels say it to the shepherds outside Bethlehem. Jesus says it to these inquirers. One of these men, Andrew, will soon say it to his brother Simon. Philip says it to Nathaniel. A woman who encounters Jesus at a well says it to her town, “Come and see a man who told me everything I ever did…” And, perhaps most important, Jesus’ followers who find his tomb empty after his burial and have encountered his resurrection form, say it: “Come and see!”

That’s all Jesus says here. Not, “Come and hear me explain the meaning of life.” Not, “Come and join my growing band of followers.” He simply invites them to explore and experience; they can respond as they feel led. “Come and see” is an invitation to explore, a launch pad for expanding our knowledge. It is the least we can do when someone wants to introduce us to a new person, place or product. We cannot truly know until we have “come and seen.” And sometimes, when we have come and seen, we find out how much more there is to learn.

John does not tell us what Andrew and the other disciple experienced with Jesus, but we soon learn that day changed the trajectory of their lives, and ours - and this world.

Who in your life has invited you to come and see, to learn more about where Jesus is showing up in their lives? Did you go? Did you experience? Give thanks for those people today.

And have ever invited another to come and see this living Lord you honor? To spend time in his presence, see what he’s all about? (This isn't necessarily inviting someone to church - it might be an invitation to spiritual conversation.) Can you think of someone who might appreciate that invitation? We can limit our invitations to those we feel will be glad we did… or take a chance more broadly.

The invitation to “come and see” is offered every single day. We have never seen enough, known enough of Jesus’ power, peace, presence, purpose. And often, when we take up His invitation to “come and see” we find ourselves compelled to “go and tell.” And so the circle grows.

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1-15-20 - What Are You Looking For?

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

The next day John again was standing with two of his disciples, and as he watched Jesus walk by, he exclaimed, “Look, here is the Lamb of God!” The two disciples heard him say this, and they followed Jesus. When Jesus turned and saw them following, he said to them, “What are you looking for?”

“Lamb of God” as a label may not have much meaning for us, but John’s followers knew exactly what he was saying: “That’s the one. The Messiah, our Liberator.” Two of his disciples hear him refer to Jesus that way, two days in a row, and they have to find out more about him. Can the savior of the world really be just a guy walking by?

It doesn’t surprise me that they investigate Jesus – I’d be curious too. I am amused, though, by Jesus’ response – who are these guys, following me? (“You lookin’ at me?”) I would expect him to say “What do you want?,” but he asks a more profound question: “What are you looking for?” Maybe it was a subtle interview question.

“What are you looking for?” is a searching question. It’s a good question for us today: “What are you looking for?” If you’re reading this, it's likely you are involved in the Christian enterprise in some way, as a Christ-follower, observer from a distance, or seeker. What’s in it for you? What do you desire from God? From Jesus? Peace? Challenge? Comfort? Purpose? Healing? Forgiveness? Company?

Imagine Jesus asking you the question as you walk curiously behind him. “What are you looking for?”
Think about it for a few minutes. Write it down if you keep a prayer journal. And then meditate on that – is it what you want to be looking for? Can you imagine finding it?

When we know what we’re looking for, we’re often halfway to finding it. Even if we think the answer is obvious, it’s valuable to articulate it. The answer might have changed since the last time you thought about it. The way you put it into words might surprise you.

I don’t expect we’ll ever be quite done looking until we’re face to face with the Holy One. Then we won’t need to look any more; only gaze in utmost love and joy, complete at last.

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1-14-20 - Secret Agent Man

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

I don’t know why there aren’t more books, plays or movies about John the Baptizer – he is a strong, odd and gripping character. If there were a film of the scene we’re exploring this week, it might be a Mission Impossible-style spy thriller with secret agents lurking about. John even sort of fits Johnny Rivers' lyrics, "There's a man who lives a life of danger/to everyone he meets he stays a stranger..." That’s what comes to mind when I read what John says about how he was able to identify Jesus as the Son of God:

And John testified, “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him. I myself did not know him, but the one who sent me to baptize with water said to me, ‘He on whom you see the Spirit descend and remain is the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.’

I imagine John asking his handler, “So, how am I going to know my contact?” And the reply, through an encoded message, “Here’s the sign – he’s going to be in the crowd coming to the river for baptism… he’ll be the one with a dove on his head…” And, of course, John will know “dove” is code for the Holy Spirit. “He’s the one who baptizes with the Holy Spirit,” the message will continue, before dissolving into a small pile of sand.

In Matthew’s account of the story, which we read last week, John is keenly aware of who Jesus is, and in Luke’s account they are cousins. John’s Gospel draws on other traditions, and he wants to establish the validity of John’s testimony. Hence this theme of identity and recognition.

How do we identify Jesus in our lives, since he isn't walking around with flesh and bones? How do we recognize the Holy Spirit, since s/he rarely assumes that dove disguise these days? How do we perceive when we’re in Christ’s presence when we can’t rely on our five senses?

Some people feel it – a physical rush of some kind that seems connected with the Spirit. Sometimes we feel filled with joy or energy or a desire to praise. Those are some internal ways – you can ask Jesus to bless you with presence in that way.

Or use the imagination God gave you, and ask Jesus if he would meet you somewhere in your mind's eye. Get still and wait and see what kind of scene unfolds, inside or outside, familiar or unknown, a gospel story or scene in your own life… what do you see, hear, smell?If you sense Jesus joining you in that place, does conversation unfold? Don’t rush it. Be attentive to what you perceive.

Jesus also said we’d see him in other people – in members of his Body, the church; in the poor, the hungry, the homeless, the sick, the lonely, the imprisoned. When you find yourself among people in need, are you ever aware of Christ in that person? Sometimes I pray, “Jesus, let me see you.”

John the Baptist said, “I myself have seen and have testified that this is the Son of God.” I believe God will grant us experiences that prompt us to testify too. It's just that, for some reason, Jesus usually shows up undercover – even disguised in you and me.

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1-13-20 - Eyewitness

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

We hear a lot about John the Baptist during Advent, and very little the rest of the year. But here he is, in January, called as an eyewitness to verify the identity of Christ. His testimony is remarkable:

The next day [John] saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world! This is he of whom I said, ‘After me comes a man who ranks ahead of me because he was before me.’ I myself did not know him; but I came baptizing with water for this reason, that he might be revealed to Israel.”

The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world? That’s a mouthful – signifying from the beginning of the story the sacrificial aspect of Jesus’ mission. And John is very sure who Jesus is – “This is the one I was talking about, the one I said was coming, greater than I. He is the reason I do this!”

While it is generally unwise to define onerself relative to someone else, if that someone else is Jesus, it can offer us clarity. Here’s a prayer experiment:
Sit quietly, maybe light a candle, let yourself get centered. Close your eyes, and picture yourself.
Where are you? What are you wearing? What do you think about what you see? What do you feel?

Then bring Jesus into the picture. Imagine him sitting with you. You don’t have to stress about what he looks like or if you have a visual sense of him – just let him be a presence. How do you look next to him? Who do you see when you look at yourself through his eyes?

If feelings come up that you want to speak, go ahead – that’s prayer, talking with God. If you discern a response from Jesus, that’s great. That’s prayer, God talking with us.

When we look at ourselves with Jesus in the picture, we know at least a couple of things:

• we know we’re not God;
• we know we’re not perfect;
• we know we’re loved.

And when we know those three things about ourselves, we tend to be gentler with ourselves, more compassionate with other people, and a whole lot freer with our love.

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1-10-20 - Affirmation

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

We could name the "movements" in Jesus' baptism: Assent, Immersion, Emergence, Anointing, and then Affirmation. Something extraordinary occurs when Jesus comes up from that river - not only does the Spirit of God descend upon him in a visible form, there is an auditory phenomenon as well:

And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

In this story, all three persons in the One Triune God take part in the launch of Jesus’ mission on earth: the Spirit, the Father, and the one whom the Father claims as Son. When early church thinkers were working out the theological implications of the Good News, scriptural passages like this helped to inform the doctrines of the Trinity and of Jesus’ nature as fully human and fully divine. Jesus, alone of all human creatures born of woman, is called God’s Son.

I believe that is the only part of the baptism unique to him. The pattern in Jesus’ baptism, Assent, Immersion, Emergence, Anointing and Affirmation, applies to us as well, at least internally. Someone offers assent to the Story into which we are baptized. We undergo the dying and rising symbolically in our interaction with the water. We receive the anointing and the affirmation of belovedness. We are adopted as members of God’s household through our spiritual bond with the Son.

When have you heard God's "yes" spoken into you? Sometimes it comes through human agents, sometimes we feel it directly, inside. Remember those moments of spiritual affirmation, of being loved by your Creator for who you are. Recall them in moments when faith seems difficult, or you can’t see your way forward.

The Father’s naming and claiming Jesus as his own, "the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased," comes before Jesus has actually “done” anything. His first thirty years appear to have been spent with his family, sharing his earthly father’s carpentry craft. His public ministry is still to come – and yet already, the Father proclaims himself “Well pleased.” All Jesus has done so far is show up.

I hope and pray we can remember this ourselves in moments when we feel inadequate or less than lovable – God loves us just as we show up and offer ourselves for relationship. There is nothing we can or need to do to earn that love – God already loves us “the most.” As we are able to accept that, we are able to show that kind of love to ourselves, and to one another. "What the world needs now..."

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1-9-20 - Spirit

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

“And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him.”

Nothing like being dive-bombed by the Holy Spirit! Granted, it only says the Spirit of God descended like a dove… But the image of a bird landing on Jesus’ head sticks for the literal-minded. That image can obscure the power of what gospel writers describe here: the moment when the Spirit of God – present at Jesus’ conception, present in his youth from the limited stories we have – fully indwells him. This is when Jesus moves fully into his identity as the Christ, “the Anointed One.” (“Christ” is from the same Greek word for oil, or ointment, from which we get “chrism.”) This moment is when his public ministry begins, when he takes up his mission of redemption and transformation.

We receive the Spirit at baptism as well. We are baptized in water and by invocation of the three-fold name of God, and then we are anointed with oil, signed with a cross on our foreheads. That oil signifies the Holy Spirit. In some early east Syrian baptismal rites, the oil was as important as the water, or more, so crucial was it to convey the power of the Spirit to be released in the newly baptized.

The gift of the Holy Spirit is often among the most unused gifts we possess, like a fondue pot gathering dust in the cupboard, or the wedding china left in the buffet except for “special occasions.” Yet St. Paul calls this gift of the Spirit a down-payment on the inheritance that we can access now. He writes to the Ephesians, “When you believed, you were marked in him with a seal, the promised Holy Spirit, who is a deposit guaranteeing our inheritance until the redemption of those who are God’s possession—to the praise of his glory.” (Eph. 1:13-14).

In essence, we have a huge inheritance in the bank, that will never run out. At baptism we receive the card and the pin number. We can leave it sitting there – or we can use it to bring spiritual power to bear on all kinds of pain and brokenness and stuckness we encounter in ourselves and others. Among the gifts Paul cites are insight, hope and spiritual power, which we can exercise now.

Are you aware of the presence of the Spirit in you and around you? When do you access that power?
Sometimes we can simply invite the Spirit to make him/ herself known (the Spirit has no gender… but is not an “it”).

Find a time this week to sit quietly for a while, get comfortable, both feet on the floor, spine straight but relaxed, and pray, “Come, Holy Spirit. Fill me. Let me know you’re here.” And wait, with attention.

Or, if you’re confronted with a tense or challenging situation, you can invoke the Spirit over it, praying silently, “Guide me, give me the right words, protect me…,” whatever seems right. Think how engaged our churches can be in our communities when we all exercise the gift of the Spirit!

We aren’t always aware of such cosmic activity at baptism – yet I believe that each time we enact that sacrament, the heavens are opened, and the Spirit of God descends and alights on us. And once the heavens are opened to us, we have lifetime access to the God of the universe. Lifetime, and beyond.

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1-8-20 - Water

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.)

In Robert Duvall’s great film, The Apostle, there is a scene in which Duvall’s character, a wayward evangelist fleeing an attempted murder charge, stands waist deep in a river. Slowly he sinks down and submerges himself. He’s down there awhile – we wonder if he’s coming back up. Then slowly he rises and breaks through the surface. From here on he adopts a new name, “The Apostle EF,” and assumes a new identity. We never quite know whether this is grace or a con – that’s part of the power of the film. The scene infers, though, that he was baptizing himself, allowing his old identity to die and a new one to be born.

Baptism is the premiere rite of new beginnings. In the Christian church it has long been the entry point for life in Christ, though sometimes it occurs long after faith has taken hold. There are different forms of baptism, different words and rites, but they all include water - because Jesus was baptized in water. “Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him.” Theologians have suggested that, in this way, Jesus sanctified all waters.

We all begin life in the water, the amniotic fluid in which we prepare for birth. Water can also mean death – imagery which our liturgies emphasize as the death of the old “natural” self and the rising with Christ of the new, spiritual, eternal self. Christian baptismal rites emphasize both birth and death – some early baptismal fonts were designed to suggest wombs, tombs or both.

I find it a great blessing that an element we encounter throughout each day should be the sacramental sign of our new life in Christ, for we can be constantly reminded of our status as beloved of God. Martin Luther is said to have instructed followers, “When you wash your face, remember your baptism.” I would go further and say, “When you have a bath or a shower, remember your baptism. When you go swimming or pass a puddle, or fill your coffee pot or your water glass, remember your baptism.”

If you can’t remember yours, spend a little time today imagining it in prayer. 

What water source would you choose? A font, a pool, a beach, a water fall, a fountain?
Would you like to go into the water or have it poured over you? In your imagination, can you see those waters as healing? What do you want healed? Regenerated? Renewed?

There was a period when my prayer life consisted of meeting Jesus on a rocky beach in my imagination. Sometimes he had a fire there and we talked. More than once, he invited me to wade into the sea with him, a profound reminder of my baptism.

Wherever and whenever you were baptized, and whoever was there, remember that Jesus also was there, sanctifying the water, in which you were born anew. That birth process takes a lifetime – and we can dip into those waters any time we want.

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1-7-20 - Submission

(You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's reflection is here.)

“Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him. John would have prevented him, saying, ‘I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?’”

The evangelist Matthew must have been a lawyer; he so often seems to be marshalling supporting arguments, citing precedents (all those quotes from the prophets…) and anticipating objections. So he alone of the Gospel writers, in telling the story of Jesus’ baptism, informs us that John was uncomfortable having Jesus submit to his ritual of repentance. After all, by the time Matthew is writing, Jesus is already risen and ascended, revered as the sinless Son of God. Matthew needs to get out in front of any who would question why Jesus should have undergone John’s baptism.

So here John objects to what he perceives as a role reversal, the lesser baptizing the greater. 

“But Jesus answered him, ‘Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfil all righteousness.’ Then he consented.”

Jesus recognizes that, if he is to share fully in our humanity, he needs to undergo this rite of cleansing and so sanctify it. He willingly submits to this ritual, as later he willingly submits to a corrupt trial and unjust sentence and hideous death. Over and over again Jesus submits – and so subverts the sin and death from which he came to free us. Indeed, his incarnation itself – taking on the limitations of human flesh and nature, of boundedness in time and space – is submission, freely submitting in order to set others free.

Some churches in our times seek to eradicate from liturgy the language and movements of submission, eschewing kneeling, eliminating words like “submit,” so as not to cause pain to people who have been forced to submit to power. While I recognize the issue, it seems a gross over-reaction to take out of play a concept so foundational to being a Christ follower - freely submitting our selves.

I submit that learning the art of voluntary submission is at the heart of following Christ. It is central to the kind of self-emptying love Jesus taught and demonstrated. In following him, we voluntarily submit our prerogatives, our priorities, our time and resources, our wills, to the cause of self-giving love that heals and transforms the people around us. We might go so far as to say this is the work of spiritual growth – learning to gradually submit ourselves to the love of God, overwhelming as that can be.

Where in your life do you submit – voluntarily, or not.
Not all submission is life-giving… yet in choosing to submit, we can often give life.
And where do you sense yourself hanging on to avoid submitting? What might be asked of you? 

To trust more? To give more? To spend time with someone difficult? To change careers?
Ask Jesus to show you where He might be inviting you to submit more of yourself, your agenda, to His. How do you respond? Our “yes” sometimes takes awhile…

Jesus does not ask of us anything he has not already done – perhaps that’s why he chose to go into the water that day, the sinless one undergoing a baptism for repentance. There he began to take on the burden of our repentance. It was the beginning of everything, of life for us, there in that water.

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1-6-20 - Happy Epiphany!

(You can listen to this reflection here.)

One of the main Epiphany stories is the one about the wise men chasing their star to Bethlehem (Matthew 2:1-12). Today we celebrate their arrival at that humble house, their gifts to the child. More important, we celebrate their seeing with their eyes what they already accepted on faith – that this king existed and was important, no matter how insignificant he appeared.

This story of the epiphany, revelation of truth to the magi is a great Epiphany story in church tradition, but it is not the only one. The miracle at Cana, where Jesus turned gallons of water into finest wine, is a traditional Epiphany reading, as Jesus reveals his power at a wedding feast. So is the story of his transfiguration, and so is the gospel appointed for next Sunday, Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan River at the beginning of his public ministry. This light of Christ is too great to be contained in just one story or one group of people – it keeps popping forth to this one and that one, all over the place.

Until the fourth century, when the Roman church began to focus celebrations of Christ’s nativity at the supposed date of his birth, shortly after the winter solstice, the Church celebrated his birth at Epiphany, especially at the great centers of Christendom like Constantinople, Jerusalem and Alexandria. Epiphany was the great festival of God's light inbreaking the world’s darkness, as auspicious an occasion for baptism as Easter. Epiphany celebrated the unveiling, the revealing, the manifesting, the making known of the mystery of the ages about God’s great plan to bring the world back into restored relationship through Christ. It encapsulates all the “a-ha!” moments the world has known.

When and how has that truth been revealed to you? Today, take a little time to recall the moments when God has seemed present, or you have experienced Christ in some way, or felt the power of God’s Spirit move in you. Your epiphany might have come through your intellect, grasping a part of the Christian story in some way you hadn’t before.

Or it might come through your emotions, feeling overcome by joy or gratitude or love – or belovedness. It might come through your senses, as you have tasted or felt or smelled or heard or seen evidence of God. It might have come when you were on the move, or still.

That’s a wonderful thing about God in Christ – through the Holy Spirit, God makes God’s self accessible to us in ways that fit us best, in all our multiple diversity, in all our unique singularity.

I pray that remembering just one moment of connection, of “a-ha!,” will fill us with joy and wonder, and strengthen us to make the light of Christ known for another. For when we see someone else “get it,” lo and behold, we get another epiphany ourselves. it's a gift we never stop receiving, and more as we give it away.

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1-3-20 - How'd You Hear This Story?

(You can listen to this reflection here.)

Our scriptures evolved through the telling of stories, passing along of stories, the eventual writing and editing of stories. Our history contains a constant thread of lives changing because someone saw something amazing and told the story of it. It starts with the Christmas story and those shepherds:

So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them.

Who wouldn’t be amazed! It’s a great story, even filtered through centuries and translations. Imagine hearing it from an eye-witness. That’s most likely how the narratives of Jesus’ birth came into circulation among his early followers.

Not all the gospels tell these stories – Mark either had not heard them, or considered them extraneous to the main story of the ministry and passion of the grown-up Jesus. The author(s) of John goes waaaay back to the beginning of time to start his telling, skipping over the messy details of a human birth. Matthew tells the story from the perspective of Jesus’ earthly father, Joseph, and includes the visitors from the East. It is Luke who writes of angels and prophecies, rulers and politics, a very human mother and father, a stable, a feed-trough – and those first witnesses, shepherds from the Judean hills.

How did Luke, an Hellenic follower of Christ, hear about those shepherds, or Anna and Simeon in the temple when Jesus was eight days old, or his side trip to Jerusalem at the age of twelve? Did Mary tell the tales later in life, after Jesus’ death and resurrection, living near Ephesus in the care of the disciple John? Did folks hear them from the witnesses themselves, and pass along the tale, one person to another, one town to the next, perhaps embellishing but getting the main details right?

There are people who read about Jesus in the bible and in books and come to believe. But more often, faith is transmitted person to person, through stories of encounter. Our stories may not feel as dramatic as the one those shepherds told, but I bet each one of us has experienced God in some way that made a difference to us. Chances are, our stories will make a difference to other people with whom we choose to share them. If nothing else, we will provide one more data point that one day might tip the scales toward faith. We can never know what will happen, only that our God-stories come with an imperative to be shared.

When have you most recently or most vividly encountered the presence or peace or power of God? Bring that to mind. Who might want to hear that story? Who might be amazed at what you make known to them of Jesus and his love?

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1-2-20 - Passover In Jerusalem

(You can listen to this reflection here.)

This week we explore a story only told in Luke, and rarely heard in church. It is one of three gospel options this Sunday, along with the tale of the magi, which seems more central to Epiphany themes; and the story of Jesus and his parents fleeing to Egypt to escape King Herod’s murderous paranoia – parallels with modern families fleeing murderers and despots is too poignant for many to pass up. But this year I’m choosing this odd little tale about a pre-teen Jesus ducking his parents during a trip to Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover.

When the festival was ended and they started to return, the boy Jesus stayed behind in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know it. Assuming that he was in the group of travelers, they went a day's journey. Then they started to look for him among their relatives and friends. When they did not find him, they returned to Jerusalem to search for him.

The story gives us our only glimpse into Jesus’ growing up years, embedded in a family and a community so tight knit, everyone looked after each other's children. One can easily see how Mary and Joseph, perhaps focused on their younger kids, could assume their twelve-year-old was safe with friends. Imagine the panic when they discover he is not among the party, the terror with which they retrace a whole day's journey to search for him in Jerusalem, perhaps remembering those years exiled in Egypt to keep him safe. Was he still in danger?

I’ve never noticed the “duh-duh-duh-dom” foreshadowing in the story – in Jerusalem for the Passover, the three-day wait before he is found. And when found, he is in the temple, holding his own with the teachers and interpreters of the Law, in a kind of self-initiated bar mitzvah, already causing a stir: 

After three days they found him in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. And all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers.

His parents have an earthier response: "How could you? How could you treat us this way? How could you not care about the worry you’ve caused?" Jesus’ reply shows his priorities have already shifted out of that Galilean wood shop and kitchen; that he has glimpsed his true identity and calling:
He said to them, "Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?"

Was this one of the times “a sword pierced” Mary’s heart? How did Joseph feel, hearing his eldest so coolly relegate him to second chair? Imagine the silences on that journey home, the distances now emerging between them. But doesn’t that happen with all twelve-year-olds? This story, with Jesus’ divinity beginning to be revealed, also shows us his full humanity in all its adolescent grandeur. “Come on, Mom and Dad, get a clue!”

Each of us can find her or his way into this story, one angle or another. All of us can relate to the question, “Where is Jesus?” We all go through times when he seems lost to us, or we wonder if he was ever real or ever will be again. It is for those times especially that we need to tell our God stories, and hear those of other people, and read about the power people have experienced in Jesus. Tell about your answered prayers and realizations and epiphanies - and hopes.

And remember, he’s rarely to be found in the last place we saw him. He’s always ahead of us on the road, waiting for us to catch up.

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1-1-20 - Power In the Name

(You can listen to this reflection here.)

Today is not only New Years Day - it is also the Feast of the Holy Name. Why is there a feast day dedicated not to a saint, not to a major event in Jesus’ life, but to his name? There is a biblical reason, and a theological one (beyond the fact that someone in the late 15th century thought we needed another festival... good for donations.)

We celebrate this occasion because Luke tells us it was significant. In keeping with the custom of the time – which continues in the Jewish community today:
After eight days had passed, it was time to circumcise the child; and he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb.

The bris, or circumcision, was standard. What was unusual is that Jesus was named not for his father or an ancestor, but according to the instruction of an angelic messenger (Gabriel was specific with Zechariah and Elizabeth too, insisting that their baby was to be named John.) The name Jesus, or Y’shua, carried echoes of Joshua in the Hebrew Bible, who led the people of Israel into the promised land after their years in the wilderness. This new Y'shua was to lead all of humankind from the greater wilderness of estrangement and sin into the promised land of eternal harmony with God.

There is more to this feast day than marking that occasion; the New Testament tells us that the name of Jesus itself carries power. When we utter someone’s name, we invoke their presence and power – and in some very real way, that happens when we proclaim the name of Jesus into situations where he is needed.

Jesus himself told his followers to use his name in prayer: “If in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.” (John 14:14) And in Acts 3, Peter and John cure a lame man simply by saying, “In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk.” (Acts 3:6). After this they explain to naysayers, “And by faith in his name, his name itself has made this man strong." (Acts 3:16)

There is power in the name of Jesus – the only power we need to wield against the force of evil, against the enemy of human nature. As the ancient hymn recorded in Philippians asserts, 

“At the name of Jesus, every knee shall bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”

Some ancient peoples believed that knowing someone’s name gave you power over them, access to them. Jesus has given us his name and said, “Use it.” We have access to the power that made the universe as we invoke the name of Jesus.

It’s up to us to use that privilege. When I am in crisis, injured or afraid, I instinctively say, “Jesus, be here now.” It’s become a default prayer. The next time you feel up against a challenge, or powerless in some situation, try using the gift given to you as a follower of Christ: the name of Jesus. He comes with it.

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