You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
What must it have been like for a post-menopausal woman to be pregnant for the first time? Perhaps now, reproductive technology being what it is, some women have experienced that. But in the hill country of Judea in the waning days of BCE, it must have been a challenge for Elizabeth, so long childless and now suddenly, wondrously, filled with new life.
And here comes Mary, herself mysteriously, wondrously with child, and the unborn one inside Elizabeth begins to do somersaults: In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb.
And now another life stirs within her, more familiar than the one in her womb. The Holy Spirit of God fills her and she gives full voice to her praise: And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy.”
If Mary came seeking confirmation of the angel’s message, God delivered that in abundance. And if Elizabeth had any doubts about God’s purposes in her own unlikely pregnancy, these too were laid to rest. Now she knew for certain that the child she was carrying had a holy destiny. Hadn't that angel said to her husband in the temple, "Even before his birth he will be filled with the Holy Spirit?" With great humility and gratitude, she praises the Holy One and confirms that the child in Mary’s womb is her Lord. What a moment. No wonder this encounter is among the most frequently painted of Biblical scenes.
Yesterday I asked us to consider what new life might be stirring inside us, what new purposes, plans, projects, passions. If we want these to grow and develop, we have to nurture them along, not ignore them until the time comes for them to be born. We have to feed them, and make room for them to kick, even leap and do backflips.
I wish I knew better how to make that room. Partly it means insisting on time for quiet and inactivity, as challenging as that can be in our 24/7 world. It means taking walks, and tea breaks, writing in a journal, and yes, committing to quiet prayer time each day. God may be speaking volumes, but if we never check in, how are we going to know? It's pre-natal care for the spirit. And when we do feel the kicks? When we feel ourselves filled with the Holy Spirit? Give voice with a loud cry and proclaim your blessedness!
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Showing posts with label John the Baptist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John the Baptist. Show all posts
12-13-24 - This Is Good News?
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
"So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people." That’s how Luke ends his reporting on the activities of John the Baptizer. I wonder if John's often harsh clarity (“You brood of vipers!”) sounded like good news to his listeners. Yet they went and told others who also came out to see him. Luke speaks of the crowds around John.
There can be something comforting about hearing the truth, being given a prescription for living in God’s way. But we tend to let those prescriptions lapse – the bible would be about a third of its length if people actually listened to God’s word and followed it. And what about us? We’re hardly a crowd in many churches, yet we show up faithfully. Are we listening faithfully? What might John say to us if we were gathered on that riverbank? It could sound like this:
“Prepare ye the way of the Lord” – that means, look out, folks. That means, repent! You think you’re exempt because you “try to be a good person?” You think you’re in the clear because you’re in church? You haven’t stolen, killed, cheated on your spouse? What we do is the least of it; it’s what we think that gets us into trouble.
And what we don’t do. How we don’t protect the poor and the powerless. How we don’t speak up for the voiceless in the richest country on earth – where some children die because they have no medical coverage. Do you live in a nice house in a safe neighborhood? How many TV sets do you own? How many times a week do you eat out? Do you know that there are places where people get maybe a bowl of rice or grain a day and sleep on the ground?
How much of your wealth are you sharing? How much trash do you generate? How much energy do you consume with all your cars and overheated stores and electronics? Do you benefit from privileges just because you may be white or wealthy? Where you have access to resources and positions because someone else is kept away?
You have a choice – you can participate in unjust structures – or you can stand against injustice. You can wring your hands, or really start sharing your wealth. You can keep eating too much and spending too much, or strip down your lifestyle to what you need and stop feeding the consumer culture.
Don’t want to hear this in church? I’ve got a part to play in your life, friend. I’m here to remind you that repentance is a year-round thing, an everyday, every week thing. I stand here to remind you that everything is not hunky-dory in your house – that there is a lot of clutter standing between you and your God.
Do you want more of God in your life? Do you want Jesus to hang out in your heart? Then make some room for Him! Clean up your houses, people! Jesus is coming. The only trick is – we don’t know when. So we need to keep the house cleaned all the time. That’s a drag, isn’t it?
But He sent me. He sent me to be your wake-up call. So here I am, people – WAKE UP! THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN IS AT HAND. Turn away from your complacency! Clean it up!
Maybe we want to interrupt that barrage, say, “ Hey – give us a chance. Jesus is coming with fire, but he’s also full of love. Doesn’t it say somewhere that God “desires not the death of a sinner, but that they turn from their wickedness and live?”
And maybe John replies, I just want you to make it real. Real, from the heart. Real repentance, not just talk. That’s what God wants… I guess I’ll be on my way. See you next December, next time you guys take me out and dust me off.
Can we listen to John's good news all year round?
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
"So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people." That’s how Luke ends his reporting on the activities of John the Baptizer. I wonder if John's often harsh clarity (“You brood of vipers!”) sounded like good news to his listeners. Yet they went and told others who also came out to see him. Luke speaks of the crowds around John.
There can be something comforting about hearing the truth, being given a prescription for living in God’s way. But we tend to let those prescriptions lapse – the bible would be about a third of its length if people actually listened to God’s word and followed it. And what about us? We’re hardly a crowd in many churches, yet we show up faithfully. Are we listening faithfully? What might John say to us if we were gathered on that riverbank? It could sound like this:
“Prepare ye the way of the Lord” – that means, look out, folks. That means, repent! You think you’re exempt because you “try to be a good person?” You think you’re in the clear because you’re in church? You haven’t stolen, killed, cheated on your spouse? What we do is the least of it; it’s what we think that gets us into trouble.
And what we don’t do. How we don’t protect the poor and the powerless. How we don’t speak up for the voiceless in the richest country on earth – where some children die because they have no medical coverage. Do you live in a nice house in a safe neighborhood? How many TV sets do you own? How many times a week do you eat out? Do you know that there are places where people get maybe a bowl of rice or grain a day and sleep on the ground?
How much of your wealth are you sharing? How much trash do you generate? How much energy do you consume with all your cars and overheated stores and electronics? Do you benefit from privileges just because you may be white or wealthy? Where you have access to resources and positions because someone else is kept away?
You have a choice – you can participate in unjust structures – or you can stand against injustice. You can wring your hands, or really start sharing your wealth. You can keep eating too much and spending too much, or strip down your lifestyle to what you need and stop feeding the consumer culture.
Don’t want to hear this in church? I’ve got a part to play in your life, friend. I’m here to remind you that repentance is a year-round thing, an everyday, every week thing. I stand here to remind you that everything is not hunky-dory in your house – that there is a lot of clutter standing between you and your God.
Do you want more of God in your life? Do you want Jesus to hang out in your heart? Then make some room for Him! Clean up your houses, people! Jesus is coming. The only trick is – we don’t know when. So we need to keep the house cleaned all the time. That’s a drag, isn’t it?
But He sent me. He sent me to be your wake-up call. So here I am, people – WAKE UP! THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN IS AT HAND. Turn away from your complacency! Clean it up!
Maybe we want to interrupt that barrage, say, “ Hey – give us a chance. Jesus is coming with fire, but he’s also full of love. Doesn’t it say somewhere that God “desires not the death of a sinner, but that they turn from their wickedness and live?”
And maybe John replies, I just want you to make it real. Real, from the heart. Real repentance, not just talk. That’s what God wants… I guess I’ll be on my way. See you next December, next time you guys take me out and dust me off.
Can we listen to John's good news all year round?
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
12-11-24 - Power
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Every day seems to bring a fresh outrage, reports of words or actions by people in authority that demean others or diminish their civil rights. From police shooting unarmed citizens, to hyper-wealthy financiers and huge corporations using legal loopholes to avoid paying their share of taxes, to Christian leaders using the rhetoric of hatred and violence, it’s hard to trust anyone with power.
And, once again, John the Baptist is up to the minute: Even tax-collectors came to be baptized, and they asked him, “Teacher, what should we do.” He said to them, “Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.” Soldiers also asked him, “And we, what should we do?” He said to them, “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.”
How are we to respond to abuses of power as people of faith called to humility and love? Much of what is being said and done publicly is so contrary to what Jesus proclaimed and lived, it seems to demand a response from anyone with a Christian conscience. We need to stand against distortions and demagoguery – Jesus did a lot of that. And yet he also said we are to love those who would persecute us. How?
What John did was to call people back to their true selves and remind them of their charge as public servants. He told them to be satisfied with the compensation they were receiving, not to crave more. Now, he was speaking to people who came to him. They were open to counsel on how to live more righteously. A lot of the people who cause my blood pressure to rise don’t think they need to be taught anything about humility or how to be a bearer of Christ.
The most powerful thing we can do, really, is to pray for those who speak and act destruction. Pray for the most abusive and outrageous. That is exactly who Jesus told us to pray for. And for terrorists. And for destroyers of wildlife. And for those who game the system. The whole lot.
Every time we hear about a new outrage, how about we stop and pray for the perpetrator? Pray for God to bless them and recall them to their true selves. And sometimes pray that God would clog their chariot wheels…
Imagine what changes could come about if we wielded the only weapon we’re given: the spiritual power in the name of Jesus to transform even the coldest heart. My Facebook feed is going to inspire an awful lot of praying!
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Every day seems to bring a fresh outrage, reports of words or actions by people in authority that demean others or diminish their civil rights. From police shooting unarmed citizens, to hyper-wealthy financiers and huge corporations using legal loopholes to avoid paying their share of taxes, to Christian leaders using the rhetoric of hatred and violence, it’s hard to trust anyone with power.
And, once again, John the Baptist is up to the minute: Even tax-collectors came to be baptized, and they asked him, “Teacher, what should we do.” He said to them, “Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.” Soldiers also asked him, “And we, what should we do?” He said to them, “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.”
How are we to respond to abuses of power as people of faith called to humility and love? Much of what is being said and done publicly is so contrary to what Jesus proclaimed and lived, it seems to demand a response from anyone with a Christian conscience. We need to stand against distortions and demagoguery – Jesus did a lot of that. And yet he also said we are to love those who would persecute us. How?
What John did was to call people back to their true selves and remind them of their charge as public servants. He told them to be satisfied with the compensation they were receiving, not to crave more. Now, he was speaking to people who came to him. They were open to counsel on how to live more righteously. A lot of the people who cause my blood pressure to rise don’t think they need to be taught anything about humility or how to be a bearer of Christ.
The most powerful thing we can do, really, is to pray for those who speak and act destruction. Pray for the most abusive and outrageous. That is exactly who Jesus told us to pray for. And for terrorists. And for destroyers of wildlife. And for those who game the system. The whole lot.
Every time we hear about a new outrage, how about we stop and pray for the perpetrator? Pray for God to bless them and recall them to their true selves. And sometimes pray that God would clog their chariot wheels…
Imagine what changes could come about if we wielded the only weapon we’re given: the spiritual power in the name of Jesus to transform even the coldest heart. My Facebook feed is going to inspire an awful lot of praying!
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
12-9-24 - Opening Act
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
He wore skins and lived off the grid. Way off, deep in the wilderness. He ate locusts, washing them down with wild honey. He was a freak show – and a holy man. Crowds of people came out of the city to find him and hear his often harsh message: “Repent! God is coming! Quit whining and return to the ways of your Creator.”
They listened, they responded and went into the River Jordan in droves. They wondered if he was the prophet Elijah or even the long-awaited Messiah. They wanted to worship him. But that’s where he drew the line: “Listen, I’m not the one you’re looking for. I’m just the advance man for a much bigger show. The opening act.” As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, John answered all of them by saying, “I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals.”
Even after Jesus began his public ministry receiving John’s baptism, after Jesus began to draw away the crowds and even some of John’s disciples, there were some who sought John. I imagine his message was easier to swallow, in many ways. "Stop sinning and start living righteously." Good and bad, black and white, not like Jesus' cryptic stories and counter-intuitive teachings. John was simpler.
It can still be tempting to focus on the servants of God when they are really holy, fully devoted to loving and serving God; to confuse worshiper and worshiped. Clergy learn to beware congregants who project onto them qualities they want to see rather than the real, flawed human leader in front of them. Leaders of real holiness have the humility to know their function is to help lead people into relationship with Jesus.
And when people are in a relationship with Jesus, they can go beyond the simplicity of “repent” and “be a better person.” They become readier to dwell in the both/and world of the father’s love for the sinner, the sister’s laying aside her needs for her family, the cheating tax collector becoming a great philanthropist, the slave trader becoming a forgiven abolitionist.
John knew who he was, and who he wasn’t, and that makes him one of the greatest saints in history. Yet Jesus said, “The one who is least in the kingdom of God is greater than he.” John got to usher people to the gates of the Kingdom; we get to live there.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
He wore skins and lived off the grid. Way off, deep in the wilderness. He ate locusts, washing them down with wild honey. He was a freak show – and a holy man. Crowds of people came out of the city to find him and hear his often harsh message: “Repent! God is coming! Quit whining and return to the ways of your Creator.”
They listened, they responded and went into the River Jordan in droves. They wondered if he was the prophet Elijah or even the long-awaited Messiah. They wanted to worship him. But that’s where he drew the line: “Listen, I’m not the one you’re looking for. I’m just the advance man for a much bigger show. The opening act.” As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, John answered all of them by saying, “I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals.”
Even after Jesus began his public ministry receiving John’s baptism, after Jesus began to draw away the crowds and even some of John’s disciples, there were some who sought John. I imagine his message was easier to swallow, in many ways. "Stop sinning and start living righteously." Good and bad, black and white, not like Jesus' cryptic stories and counter-intuitive teachings. John was simpler.
It can still be tempting to focus on the servants of God when they are really holy, fully devoted to loving and serving God; to confuse worshiper and worshiped. Clergy learn to beware congregants who project onto them qualities they want to see rather than the real, flawed human leader in front of them. Leaders of real holiness have the humility to know their function is to help lead people into relationship with Jesus.
And when people are in a relationship with Jesus, they can go beyond the simplicity of “repent” and “be a better person.” They become readier to dwell in the both/and world of the father’s love for the sinner, the sister’s laying aside her needs for her family, the cheating tax collector becoming a great philanthropist, the slave trader becoming a forgiven abolitionist.
John knew who he was, and who he wasn’t, and that makes him one of the greatest saints in history. Yet Jesus said, “The one who is least in the kingdom of God is greater than he.” John got to usher people to the gates of the Kingdom; we get to live there.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
12-4-24 - Clearing the Way
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
In the church we tend to refer to John as “the Baptist,” perhaps causing some to wonder why he's not "John the Episcopalian." Some bible translations call him “John the Baptizer.” Luke identified him not by his vocation but by his parentage, “son of Zechariah.” …the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. He went into all the region around the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.
The “baptism” John offered bore little relation to the rite of Christian initiation we know as baptism. He was not baptizing people into the name of Christ – he was offering a ritual cleansing to symbolize the spiritual cleansing of repentance and forgiveness. And why would anyone need a “baptism of repentance?” To clear the way in their hearts for Jesus, for the message he would bring and the reconciliation to God he would enable.
John was the advance man, and his mission was articulated even before his conception, when his father received a visit from the Angel Gabriel telling him that he and his aged wife Elizabeth, long childless, were to have a son: …the angel said to him, ‘Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will name him John. You will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord. He must never drink wine or strong drink; even before his birth he will be filled with the Holy Spirit. He will turn many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God. With the spirit and power of Elijah he will go before him, to turn the hearts of parents to their children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous, to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.’ (Luke 1:13-17)
To make ready a people prepared for the Lord – that is the mission which John lived and died to fulfill. His approach to that task was to call people to repent – to repent for personal sins and shortcomings as well as complicity in societal sins and injustices.
I’m sometimes asked why we confess our sins in church – why convey a message of “not-good-enough-ness?” But I keep it in the liturgy for the same reason that John was in the repentance business: If we want to welcome God, we need to be real about ourselves. We need to make room in the clutter of our hearts and lives. In fact, I like to put the confession part of our worship closer to the beginning, so that we can clear the decks and make space for the Spirit before we engage the Word and share the Meal.
We are to share John’s mission to "make ready a people prepared for the Lord." We don’t need to point out to people their sins or sinfulness; we need only be clear and humble about our own, in a graceful way, speaking freely of our need for forgiveness and God’s abundant mercy. So we will invite people to bring their whole selves into an encounter with God, and let them know that everything can be transformed.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
In the church we tend to refer to John as “the Baptist,” perhaps causing some to wonder why he's not "John the Episcopalian." Some bible translations call him “John the Baptizer.” Luke identified him not by his vocation but by his parentage, “son of Zechariah.” …the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness. He went into all the region around the Jordan, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.
The “baptism” John offered bore little relation to the rite of Christian initiation we know as baptism. He was not baptizing people into the name of Christ – he was offering a ritual cleansing to symbolize the spiritual cleansing of repentance and forgiveness. And why would anyone need a “baptism of repentance?” To clear the way in their hearts for Jesus, for the message he would bring and the reconciliation to God he would enable.
John was the advance man, and his mission was articulated even before his conception, when his father received a visit from the Angel Gabriel telling him that he and his aged wife Elizabeth, long childless, were to have a son: …the angel said to him, ‘Do not be afraid, Zechariah, for your prayer has been heard. Your wife Elizabeth will bear you a son, and you will name him John. You will have joy and gladness, and many will rejoice at his birth, for he will be great in the sight of the Lord. He must never drink wine or strong drink; even before his birth he will be filled with the Holy Spirit. He will turn many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God. With the spirit and power of Elijah he will go before him, to turn the hearts of parents to their children, and the disobedient to the wisdom of the righteous, to make ready a people prepared for the Lord.’ (Luke 1:13-17)
To make ready a people prepared for the Lord – that is the mission which John lived and died to fulfill. His approach to that task was to call people to repent – to repent for personal sins and shortcomings as well as complicity in societal sins and injustices.
I’m sometimes asked why we confess our sins in church – why convey a message of “not-good-enough-ness?” But I keep it in the liturgy for the same reason that John was in the repentance business: If we want to welcome God, we need to be real about ourselves. We need to make room in the clutter of our hearts and lives. In fact, I like to put the confession part of our worship closer to the beginning, so that we can clear the decks and make space for the Spirit before we engage the Word and share the Meal.
We are to share John’s mission to "make ready a people prepared for the Lord." We don’t need to point out to people their sins or sinfulness; we need only be clear and humble about our own, in a graceful way, speaking freely of our need for forgiveness and God’s abundant mercy. So we will invite people to bring their whole selves into an encounter with God, and let them know that everything can be transformed.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
12-3-24 - Incoming!
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
When I was newly ordained, I was part of a diocesan Ordinands Training Program which met monthly. Once, when we were meeting at diocesan offices, we were surprised by a sign indicating our meeting room, which read, “Ordnance Training here.” We agreed that misspelling told a kind of truth.
This is what comes to mind when I read these words: “…the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.” I think of cries in battle, “Incoming!,” warning soldiers to get out of the way of enemy shells. Is this what it felt like to John when the Word of God came to him in the wilderness? Because what God asked of John prepared the ground for the coming of Christ – and also set him up for imprisonment and a brutal death in Herod’s prison.
In the bible, the wilderness is a place where people often hear the word of God. It still is – not always right away, but eventually, when we leave behind the clutter of our lives and spend time in wilder, less programmed spaces, we become more open to the urging of the Spirit. It can involve quite a wait; the word of God comes on God’s timetable, which is frustrating for those of us accustomed to making things happen. And sometimes it unfolds in increments instead of all at once. But when the word of God comes to us with a mission, it can be explosive, demanding that we rearrange our lives and priorities, even our relationships.
John had a very big part to play in the unfolding of God’s mission to reclaim, restore and renew all of creation to wholeness in Christ. God invites you and me to participate in that mission as well – and we need to make ourselves available to receiving that word. If you want the word of God to come to you, tell God that in prayer. Say, “I’m open. I’m listening. And I'm willing to have my life rearranged.”
Maybe this Advent we can find some wilderness time, in short bits or for a proper retreat and see how the Spirit is inviting us to participate in reshaping this world.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
When I was newly ordained, I was part of a diocesan Ordinands Training Program which met monthly. Once, when we were meeting at diocesan offices, we were surprised by a sign indicating our meeting room, which read, “Ordnance Training here.” We agreed that misspelling told a kind of truth.
This is what comes to mind when I read these words: “…the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.” I think of cries in battle, “Incoming!,” warning soldiers to get out of the way of enemy shells. Is this what it felt like to John when the Word of God came to him in the wilderness? Because what God asked of John prepared the ground for the coming of Christ – and also set him up for imprisonment and a brutal death in Herod’s prison.
In the bible, the wilderness is a place where people often hear the word of God. It still is – not always right away, but eventually, when we leave behind the clutter of our lives and spend time in wilder, less programmed spaces, we become more open to the urging of the Spirit. It can involve quite a wait; the word of God comes on God’s timetable, which is frustrating for those of us accustomed to making things happen. And sometimes it unfolds in increments instead of all at once. But when the word of God comes to us with a mission, it can be explosive, demanding that we rearrange our lives and priorities, even our relationships.
John had a very big part to play in the unfolding of God’s mission to reclaim, restore and renew all of creation to wholeness in Christ. God invites you and me to participate in that mission as well – and we need to make ourselves available to receiving that word. If you want the word of God to come to you, tell God that in prayer. Say, “I’m open. I’m listening. And I'm willing to have my life rearranged.”
Maybe this Advent we can find some wilderness time, in short bits or for a proper retreat and see how the Spirit is inviting us to participate in reshaping this world.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
12-2-24 - Specificity
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
I am glad to be back in the Land of Luke in our Sunday gospel readings. I appreciate Luke’s emphases on healing, justice, the work of the Holy Spirit; on Jesus’ compassion and friendships with women and people marginalized by disease, ethnicity, poverty, wealth or sin. And maybe it’s the medical training (if indeed the author of this Gospel and Acts is Luke the physician mentioned in the latter work…), but Luke is often the most precise in his reportage, telling the story as fully and accurately as possible.
So it is that, before he tells us about John the Baptist appearing in the wilderness, he gives us the who, what, when and where: In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high-priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.
Luke gives us the lay of the land, the context, exactly when this story took place, the locations that were germane, key political figures and religious leaders. He even tells us whose son John was, and where the word of God came to him.
This is more than attention to than historical detail. Luke reminds us that this great story of God’s intervention in God's own creation wasn’t just a general tale – it was specific. It happened to real people in real places, facing real challenges and circumstances. The Good News is always infinite and universal – and as specific as a unique person born to a particular family in a particular place and community. The power of Jesus the Christ’s story is for all people in all times and places; Jesus of Nazareth was rooted in a specific time and place.
So are you. So am I. The infinite and universal Love of God has also shown up in your particular person and circumstances, family, networks, preoccupations and prejudices. You first encountered the Gospel in a particular setting and person and community, just as Christ-in-you is the best way that people around you will get to know God.
Where was it that you first encountered the Living God? When? Who was in authority, and who was important in your life? What was happening in the world around you? Take some time to recall the circumstances in which the revelation of God’s love first became real to you.
That’s your story within the Great Story. We can only effectively tell the Great Story if we begin with how God showed up for us - and that story is always specific.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
I am glad to be back in the Land of Luke in our Sunday gospel readings. I appreciate Luke’s emphases on healing, justice, the work of the Holy Spirit; on Jesus’ compassion and friendships with women and people marginalized by disease, ethnicity, poverty, wealth or sin. And maybe it’s the medical training (if indeed the author of this Gospel and Acts is Luke the physician mentioned in the latter work…), but Luke is often the most precise in his reportage, telling the story as fully and accurately as possible.
So it is that, before he tells us about John the Baptist appearing in the wilderness, he gives us the who, what, when and where: In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high-priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas, the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.
Luke gives us the lay of the land, the context, exactly when this story took place, the locations that were germane, key political figures and religious leaders. He even tells us whose son John was, and where the word of God came to him.
This is more than attention to than historical detail. Luke reminds us that this great story of God’s intervention in God's own creation wasn’t just a general tale – it was specific. It happened to real people in real places, facing real challenges and circumstances. The Good News is always infinite and universal – and as specific as a unique person born to a particular family in a particular place and community. The power of Jesus the Christ’s story is for all people in all times and places; Jesus of Nazareth was rooted in a specific time and place.
So are you. So am I. The infinite and universal Love of God has also shown up in your particular person and circumstances, family, networks, preoccupations and prejudices. You first encountered the Gospel in a particular setting and person and community, just as Christ-in-you is the best way that people around you will get to know God.
Where was it that you first encountered the Living God? When? Who was in authority, and who was important in your life? What was happening in the world around you? Take some time to recall the circumstances in which the revelation of God’s love first became real to you.
That’s your story within the Great Story. We can only effectively tell the Great Story if we begin with how God showed up for us - and that story is always specific.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
7-11-24 - No Promise of Protection
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Okay, let’s take a look at this gospel passage I’ve been avoiding all week, which tells the story of how and why John the Baptist was beheaded after many years in King Herod’s dungeon. It’s a grim story; there’s nothing obviously redemptive about it. Evil triumphs over good, as it so often seems to do in the world. Maybe that’s why neither Matthew nor Luke include it in their gospels, even as they absorb so much of what is in Mark’s narrative.
Mark strays into the story as he talks about how some thought Jesus was John the Baptist risen from the dead – and one person who thought that was King Herod. So Mark tells how Herod came to have John beheaded, though, “Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him.”
It was Herod’s wife who pressured him into arresting John. She had previously been married to Herod’s brother, and John had not hesitated to inform the Galilean king that this ran counter to the law of Moses. Because he spoke out, “Herodias had a grudge against him, and wanted to kill him.” She saw her moment when Herod threw himself a birthday party with all the VIPs of Galilee. No doubt the food and wine flowed freely, and there was even entertainment: Herodias’ daughter danced for Herod. Her dance so pleased the drunken despot that he swore to give her whatever she wanted, up to half his kingdom, as Hebrew kings were wont to do (see the book of Esther). The girl asks her mother what to ask for and there it is: “I want you to give me at once the head of John the Baptist on a platter.”
Herod was “grieved,” we’re told, but his need to save face before his guests trumped his conscience, so the gruesome order was carried out. John’s head was presented on a platter to the girl, who dutifully gave it to her mother. A great prophet of God was dead at the hands of the vengeful and the flirtatious.
So why are people reading this, and on a Sunday in church? (We won’t be at my churches – we’re enjoying a series on Celtic Christianity…) Maybe a better question is: How can we benefit from this story? Can we find any blessing in it? It does remind us that serving God comes with no guarantee of safety. We pray for protection from bodily harm, and we thank God when we avoid it, but in fact it is not among the promises we receive as followers of the Crucified One. Plenty of Christ followers the world over experience persecution, from economic and social deprivation to mortal danger.
To speak the truth in the face of persecution, to proclaim the Good News that Jesus is Lord, to take his teachings at face value and love your enemy – this is the call of every follower of Christ, always hoping that the worst we will face is rejection or a complacent disinterest. That is the worst most of us will face – so maybe we can be bolder about speaking the truth and proclaiming the Gospel, if only to honor those who paid a much higher price.
The only positive element I find in this story is at the end: When his disciples heard about it, they came and took his body, and laid it in a tomb. This reminds us that John was part of a holy community, with followers willing to stand by him in life, and claim him as their own in death. That community carried on his legacy and his life. May we do as much for the martyrs of our time, in the name of Christ.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
Okay, let’s take a look at this gospel passage I’ve been avoiding all week, which tells the story of how and why John the Baptist was beheaded after many years in King Herod’s dungeon. It’s a grim story; there’s nothing obviously redemptive about it. Evil triumphs over good, as it so often seems to do in the world. Maybe that’s why neither Matthew nor Luke include it in their gospels, even as they absorb so much of what is in Mark’s narrative.
Mark strays into the story as he talks about how some thought Jesus was John the Baptist risen from the dead – and one person who thought that was King Herod. So Mark tells how Herod came to have John beheaded, though, “Herod feared John, knowing that he was a righteous and holy man, and he protected him. When he heard him, he was greatly perplexed; and yet he liked to listen to him.”
It was Herod’s wife who pressured him into arresting John. She had previously been married to Herod’s brother, and John had not hesitated to inform the Galilean king that this ran counter to the law of Moses. Because he spoke out, “Herodias had a grudge against him, and wanted to kill him.” She saw her moment when Herod threw himself a birthday party with all the VIPs of Galilee. No doubt the food and wine flowed freely, and there was even entertainment: Herodias’ daughter danced for Herod. Her dance so pleased the drunken despot that he swore to give her whatever she wanted, up to half his kingdom, as Hebrew kings were wont to do (see the book of Esther). The girl asks her mother what to ask for and there it is: “I want you to give me at once the head of John the Baptist on a platter.”
Herod was “grieved,” we’re told, but his need to save face before his guests trumped his conscience, so the gruesome order was carried out. John’s head was presented on a platter to the girl, who dutifully gave it to her mother. A great prophet of God was dead at the hands of the vengeful and the flirtatious.
So why are people reading this, and on a Sunday in church? (We won’t be at my churches – we’re enjoying a series on Celtic Christianity…) Maybe a better question is: How can we benefit from this story? Can we find any blessing in it? It does remind us that serving God comes with no guarantee of safety. We pray for protection from bodily harm, and we thank God when we avoid it, but in fact it is not among the promises we receive as followers of the Crucified One. Plenty of Christ followers the world over experience persecution, from economic and social deprivation to mortal danger.
To speak the truth in the face of persecution, to proclaim the Good News that Jesus is Lord, to take his teachings at face value and love your enemy – this is the call of every follower of Christ, always hoping that the worst we will face is rejection or a complacent disinterest. That is the worst most of us will face – so maybe we can be bolder about speaking the truth and proclaiming the Gospel, if only to honor those who paid a much higher price.
The only positive element I find in this story is at the end: When his disciples heard about it, they came and took his body, and laid it in a tomb. This reminds us that John was part of a holy community, with followers willing to stand by him in life, and claim him as their own in death. That community carried on his legacy and his life. May we do as much for the martyrs of our time, in the name of Christ.
© Kate Heichler, 2024. To receive Water Daily by email each morning, subscribe here. Here are the bible readings for next Sunday. Water Daily is also a podcast – subscribe to it here on Apple, Spotify or your favorite podcast platform.
12-15-23 - People, Get Ready
You can listen to this reflection here.
Today let’s switch to Sunday’s passage from the Hebrew bible – Isaiah’s prophecy of restoration and fulfillment. This is what Jesus read the first time he taught in his hometown synagogue in Nazareth – and then shocked them all by announcing, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” It is also a wonderful description of the ministry of John the Baptist:
The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me;
he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted,
Today let’s switch to Sunday’s passage from the Hebrew bible – Isaiah’s prophecy of restoration and fulfillment. This is what Jesus read the first time he taught in his hometown synagogue in Nazareth – and then shocked them all by announcing, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” It is also a wonderful description of the ministry of John the Baptist:
The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me;
he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners;
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God…
Luke’s gospel tells us that God’s Spirit was upon John even before his birth, as he leapt in in his mother Elizabeth’s womb when her cousin Mary came to see her, pregnant with Jesus. They may not have met again for many years, but Jesus was very much around when John was exercising his ministry at the Jordan, ultimately coming to him to be baptized himself. And though John’s message was more fierce than comforting, it was Good News he was announcing, Good News that God was near, on the move, coming soon, already here – and people better get ready. (Here’s Curtis Mayfield on that subject… and a newer version by Joss Stone.)
Believe it or not, this is also an aspect of John’s ministry that we share, united as we are with Christ, filled with God’s Holy Spirit. That good news of release and justice and favor is now ours to deliver to this hurting world. We are the Jesus Movement, participating in God’s great mission to reclaim, restore and renew all of creation to wholeness in Christ. This ministry has a personal dimension, to be sure, and also a global, societal one. Here’s what is promised for those whom the Lord has anointed to bring Good News:
They will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, to display God’s glory.
They shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations;
they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations.
God is already at work building up the ancient ruins, the ruined cities, healing the former devastations. This vision may strike us as ludicrous, aware as we are of how actively humankind is causing more ruin to the earth and its cities, but this is the promise we proclaim, the promise we live into, the promise we are bringing into being.
Where are you being called to be an “oak of righteousness” this year?
to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God…
Luke’s gospel tells us that God’s Spirit was upon John even before his birth, as he leapt in in his mother Elizabeth’s womb when her cousin Mary came to see her, pregnant with Jesus. They may not have met again for many years, but Jesus was very much around when John was exercising his ministry at the Jordan, ultimately coming to him to be baptized himself. And though John’s message was more fierce than comforting, it was Good News he was announcing, Good News that God was near, on the move, coming soon, already here – and people better get ready. (Here’s Curtis Mayfield on that subject… and a newer version by Joss Stone.)
Believe it or not, this is also an aspect of John’s ministry that we share, united as we are with Christ, filled with God’s Holy Spirit. That good news of release and justice and favor is now ours to deliver to this hurting world. We are the Jesus Movement, participating in God’s great mission to reclaim, restore and renew all of creation to wholeness in Christ. This ministry has a personal dimension, to be sure, and also a global, societal one. Here’s what is promised for those whom the Lord has anointed to bring Good News:
They will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, to display God’s glory.
They shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations;
they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations.
God is already at work building up the ancient ruins, the ruined cities, healing the former devastations. This vision may strike us as ludicrous, aware as we are of how actively humankind is causing more ruin to the earth and its cities, but this is the promise we proclaim, the promise we live into, the promise we are bringing into being.
Where are you being called to be an “oak of righteousness” this year?
Who is "God’s planting" in your life? What ruins are you in the process of helping to repair, whether on a street or in someone’s heart?
People, get ready, there’s a train a-comin’,
It's picking up passengers from coast to coast.
All you need is faith to hear the diesels hummin’;
You don’t need no ticket, you just thank the Lord.
Are you ready?
People, get ready, there’s a train a-comin’,
It's picking up passengers from coast to coast.
All you need is faith to hear the diesels hummin’;
You don’t need no ticket, you just thank the Lord.
Are you ready?
12-14-23 - Water and Oil
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
The temple authorities sent a delegation to investigate John’s ministry because they needed to know by what authority he was operating. Having established that he was not an earthly incarnation of a holy figure, they wanted to know, “Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the prophet?”
Once more, John does not answer their question directly, saying rather, "I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal."
It would be easier to grasp if the writer of John’s gospel had used the fuller quote the other three evangelists cite: “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”
In that version, the water baptism John offered is contrasted with the Spirit baptism Jesus will initiate. In effect, his reply to the questioners is, “It doesn’t matter who I am, really – I’m not the main event. My baptism in water as a sign of repentance is just preparing people to receive the much more powerful, transforming baptism of Spirit – and that will come from someone already in your midst, whom you do not recognize, whose sandals I am unworthy even to untie.”
When we are baptized into the Christian faith, what matters most is the gift of the Spirit. Too many modern baptismal rituals emphasize the water and are weak on conveying the Spirit, which is symbolized by the oil of chrism with which candidates are anointed. In some early Christian rites, the oil was so important, candidates were covered with it. Both elements are crucial to the sacrament of baptism, and our celebration of that sacrament is enhanced when the “sign value” is enlarged, the quantities and gestures expansive enough to convey the power that is being invoked and invited into our midst.
We can feel the water; that’s important. It symbolizes both the cleansing of a bath and a drowning in which our natural selves die, and our eternal, spiritual selves are born as the union of our spirits with Christ’s spirit. The gift of Spirit, though, cannot be felt with our senses, except through that little dab of oil on the forehead, but that is where everything we need to live in God-Life is bestowed on us.
If we were christened as infants, we may not remember our baptisms, but this baptism of Spirit can be relived, re-experienced as often as we’re willing to pray, “Come, Holy Spirit. Fill me. Guide me. Work through me.”
Like John, we point to the One by whom our works are made possible. We are not worthy to untie his shoe laces – yet he has seen fit to stoop to us, to dwell with us, to dwell in us. That gift is forever.
The temple authorities sent a delegation to investigate John’s ministry because they needed to know by what authority he was operating. Having established that he was not an earthly incarnation of a holy figure, they wanted to know, “Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the prophet?”
Once more, John does not answer their question directly, saying rather, "I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal."
It would be easier to grasp if the writer of John’s gospel had used the fuller quote the other three evangelists cite: “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”
In that version, the water baptism John offered is contrasted with the Spirit baptism Jesus will initiate. In effect, his reply to the questioners is, “It doesn’t matter who I am, really – I’m not the main event. My baptism in water as a sign of repentance is just preparing people to receive the much more powerful, transforming baptism of Spirit – and that will come from someone already in your midst, whom you do not recognize, whose sandals I am unworthy even to untie.”
When we are baptized into the Christian faith, what matters most is the gift of the Spirit. Too many modern baptismal rituals emphasize the water and are weak on conveying the Spirit, which is symbolized by the oil of chrism with which candidates are anointed. In some early Christian rites, the oil was so important, candidates were covered with it. Both elements are crucial to the sacrament of baptism, and our celebration of that sacrament is enhanced when the “sign value” is enlarged, the quantities and gestures expansive enough to convey the power that is being invoked and invited into our midst.
We can feel the water; that’s important. It symbolizes both the cleansing of a bath and a drowning in which our natural selves die, and our eternal, spiritual selves are born as the union of our spirits with Christ’s spirit. The gift of Spirit, though, cannot be felt with our senses, except through that little dab of oil on the forehead, but that is where everything we need to live in God-Life is bestowed on us.
If we were christened as infants, we may not remember our baptisms, but this baptism of Spirit can be relived, re-experienced as often as we’re willing to pray, “Come, Holy Spirit. Fill me. Guide me. Work through me.”
Like John, we point to the One by whom our works are made possible. We are not worthy to untie his shoe laces – yet he has seen fit to stoop to us, to dwell with us, to dwell in us. That gift is forever.
12-13-23 - Crying Out In Wilderness
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
John the Baptist would have made a good secret agent – under interrogation, he didn’t give away much. Once the temple leaders investigating him established that he was not the Messiah, Elijah, nor “the prophet,” they pressed on: “Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?”
John might have answered, “I am the son of Zechariah and Elizabeth, of the priestly line of Aibjah, born in the hill country of Judea when my parents were too old to have children… I am a preacher in the desert…” But rather than a standard biography, he offers this cryptic tidbit: “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, “Make straight the way of the Lord,”’ as the prophet Isaiah said.
The identity John claims is that of “voice.” Not maker, builder, preacher, baptizer, but “voice.” A lonely voice at that, crying out for people to make a straight way for the Lord. Why in the wilderness? Because no one would have heard him above the din of the city? Because people needed to come away from their distractions to focus on his message? Because that’s where the river was?
Those who speak the truth are often lonely voices in wild places. Think about a time when you have heard someone speak truth that shook your soul or ignited your mind… where were you? What made it possible for you to hear that word? Were you away from your routines, your busyness?
And what message from God do you have for your fellow humankind? What urgent news do you want to share? Are you called to a “wild place” to share that? Wilderness doesn’t have to look like desert – an empty kitchen that used to be full of children can be a wilderness; a hospital waiting room can be a wilderness; a mall parking lot a desert. Where are you called to bring your voice of truth and love?
It seems absurd on the face of it, a voice crying out in the wilderness. Who the heck is going to hear it? But John’s audience came to him, flocking out of the city, listening and responding. When we share the message God wants to give through us, the people who need to hear it will find us. Our wildernesses will become community; our voices will be heard.
John the Baptist would have made a good secret agent – under interrogation, he didn’t give away much. Once the temple leaders investigating him established that he was not the Messiah, Elijah, nor “the prophet,” they pressed on: “Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?”
John might have answered, “I am the son of Zechariah and Elizabeth, of the priestly line of Aibjah, born in the hill country of Judea when my parents were too old to have children… I am a preacher in the desert…” But rather than a standard biography, he offers this cryptic tidbit: “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, “Make straight the way of the Lord,”’ as the prophet Isaiah said.
The identity John claims is that of “voice.” Not maker, builder, preacher, baptizer, but “voice.” A lonely voice at that, crying out for people to make a straight way for the Lord. Why in the wilderness? Because no one would have heard him above the din of the city? Because people needed to come away from their distractions to focus on his message? Because that’s where the river was?
Those who speak the truth are often lonely voices in wild places. Think about a time when you have heard someone speak truth that shook your soul or ignited your mind… where were you? What made it possible for you to hear that word? Were you away from your routines, your busyness?
And what message from God do you have for your fellow humankind? What urgent news do you want to share? Are you called to a “wild place” to share that? Wilderness doesn’t have to look like desert – an empty kitchen that used to be full of children can be a wilderness; a hospital waiting room can be a wilderness; a mall parking lot a desert. Where are you called to bring your voice of truth and love?
It seems absurd on the face of it, a voice crying out in the wilderness. Who the heck is going to hear it? But John’s audience came to him, flocking out of the city, listening and responding. When we share the message God wants to give through us, the people who need to hear it will find us. Our wildernesses will become community; our voices will be heard.
12-12-23 - Who Are We Not?
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
It may be hard for us to understand the excitement that John the Baptist’s appearance in the Judean wilderness unleashed among the people of Israel. After centuries of oppression under a succession of foreign armies, years of exile still a distinct memory, the people of God were desperate for a deliverer. That desire became conflated with prophecies about a Messiah. In a time of religious foment, anyone who seemed to have spiritual power drew attention. And any time a spiritual person came into the limelight, the religious leaders needed to check him out. (“Hims” are all we hear about…) So it was that the religious authorities investigated and interrogated John.
This is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, ”Who are you?” He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, “I am not the Messiah.” And they asked him, “What then? Are you Elijah?” He said, “I am not.” “Are you the prophet?” He answered, “No.”
He doesn’t answer their first question, “Who are you?” directly, but instead answers the question he knows they are asking. “I’ll tell you who I’m not – I am not the Messiah.” That must have been refreshing to hear, in an age when many falsely claimed that title.
They press on, asking if he is the prophet Elijah returned to the life of this world – the Bible records no physical death for Elijah; we’re told he was taken up in a whirlwind, so people looked for his return and John seemed to fit the bill. “Are you the prophet?,” probably meaning Moses. He answers “no” to all these, and never answers the question, “Who are you.” John defines himself – at least to these interrogators – by who he is not.
Is there something in this for us? We’re encouraged to become aware of who we are in our deepest and truest selves, and there is something holy in that. Yet part of that work involves knowing who we are not. We are not our mothers or fathers; we are not the people we most admire or fear to be. We are ourselves, with our unique mix of gifts and flaws and baggage and circumstances.
And we need to know who we are not spiritually – not the One in charge; not the savior; not the healer or prophet, though we may be conduits of God's power to heal and speak God’s truth. Recovery from addiction and co-dependency often involves stepping out of such false roles.
Self-knowledge is grounded in humility and clarity. Treasuring who it is that God has made us to be, and being clear about who that is, allows us to become even more fully ourselves in God’s grace, and even more fully freed of all that is not.
I will tell again the story of a little girl who stopped on her way home from school every day to chat with a sculptor making a statue in a park. Over the months she watched as the block of marble became a discernible figure, and finally one day, when he was almost finished, said, “Hey mister, how did you know there was a lion in there?”
All that was not "lion" had been chiseled away. Who do you say that you’re not?
It may be hard for us to understand the excitement that John the Baptist’s appearance in the Judean wilderness unleashed among the people of Israel. After centuries of oppression under a succession of foreign armies, years of exile still a distinct memory, the people of God were desperate for a deliverer. That desire became conflated with prophecies about a Messiah. In a time of religious foment, anyone who seemed to have spiritual power drew attention. And any time a spiritual person came into the limelight, the religious leaders needed to check him out. (“Hims” are all we hear about…) So it was that the religious authorities investigated and interrogated John.
This is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, ”Who are you?” He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, “I am not the Messiah.” And they asked him, “What then? Are you Elijah?” He said, “I am not.” “Are you the prophet?” He answered, “No.”
He doesn’t answer their first question, “Who are you?” directly, but instead answers the question he knows they are asking. “I’ll tell you who I’m not – I am not the Messiah.” That must have been refreshing to hear, in an age when many falsely claimed that title.
They press on, asking if he is the prophet Elijah returned to the life of this world – the Bible records no physical death for Elijah; we’re told he was taken up in a whirlwind, so people looked for his return and John seemed to fit the bill. “Are you the prophet?,” probably meaning Moses. He answers “no” to all these, and never answers the question, “Who are you.” John defines himself – at least to these interrogators – by who he is not.
Is there something in this for us? We’re encouraged to become aware of who we are in our deepest and truest selves, and there is something holy in that. Yet part of that work involves knowing who we are not. We are not our mothers or fathers; we are not the people we most admire or fear to be. We are ourselves, with our unique mix of gifts and flaws and baggage and circumstances.
And we need to know who we are not spiritually – not the One in charge; not the savior; not the healer or prophet, though we may be conduits of God's power to heal and speak God’s truth. Recovery from addiction and co-dependency often involves stepping out of such false roles.
Self-knowledge is grounded in humility and clarity. Treasuring who it is that God has made us to be, and being clear about who that is, allows us to become even more fully ourselves in God’s grace, and even more fully freed of all that is not.
I will tell again the story of a little girl who stopped on her way home from school every day to chat with a sculptor making a statue in a park. Over the months she watched as the block of marble became a discernible figure, and finally one day, when he was almost finished, said, “Hey mister, how did you know there was a lion in there?”
All that was not "lion" had been chiseled away. Who do you say that you’re not?
12-11-23 - Reflecting Light
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
We’re going to spend another week with John the Baptist, as the lectionary appoints a second passage about him. But we shift perspective to John’s gospel, which often offers a different angle on familiar bible stories and characters.
The Fourth Gospel begins in the cosmic realm, “In the beginning was the Word… and the Word became flesh and dwelt among humankind, full of grace and truth.” But it soon narrows its focus to the human sphere, zeroing in on John: There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.
John the Baptist was such a focused and holy man, people wondered if he were the long-awaited Messiah. He made it clear that he was not, that he was only the advance man for the revelation of Christ, to prepare people’s hearts and set the stage so people would recognize and receive Christ when he came. He was not himself the Light; he bore testimony to the Light that was coming into the world.
Just as we all share John’s ministry to prepare people for Jesus’ coming into their lives, we also share this aspect of his ministry: to bear witness to the Light, that others might believe. We are not the source of light or truth or life – we bear witness to it, and at our best we reflect it. Any time we draw people’s attention to our own goodness or faith or opinions or holiness, we in a sense usurp Christ’s light. We are meant to be mirrors, not light fixtures, and for that we need to keep our glass clean.
One might say we share the ministry of the moon, which is not itself light, not the light generator, but bears witness to the sun, reflecting light that can be seen in the darkness. In our current dark times, our ministry as those who reflect God’s light (Son-Light?) is all the more urgent.
Think about the worlds in which you are being called to testify to the Light. Are people seeing God’s light, or your own? What cleansing needs to happen so that we reflect God’s light even more powerfully?
In an odd bit of free-association, U2’s song, Mysterious Ways, makes me think of John the Baptist. Perhaps I read about a link in a book about Christian themes in U2 songs (One Step Closer), or maybe I made it for myself, but there’s something about, “Johnny, take a walk with silver the moon,” that makes me think of John, whose ministry must have been a lonely one. And the lyric,
To touch is to heal, to hurt is to steal/
If you want to kiss the sky, better learn how to kneel
Is one way to render John’s message of repentance and return.
The One whose ways are most mysterious is the Spirit of God, who can make the Light of Christ visible even in moons as pale as we sometimes are.
We’re going to spend another week with John the Baptist, as the lectionary appoints a second passage about him. But we shift perspective to John’s gospel, which often offers a different angle on familiar bible stories and characters.
The Fourth Gospel begins in the cosmic realm, “In the beginning was the Word… and the Word became flesh and dwelt among humankind, full of grace and truth.” But it soon narrows its focus to the human sphere, zeroing in on John: There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.
John the Baptist was such a focused and holy man, people wondered if he were the long-awaited Messiah. He made it clear that he was not, that he was only the advance man for the revelation of Christ, to prepare people’s hearts and set the stage so people would recognize and receive Christ when he came. He was not himself the Light; he bore testimony to the Light that was coming into the world.
Just as we all share John’s ministry to prepare people for Jesus’ coming into their lives, we also share this aspect of his ministry: to bear witness to the Light, that others might believe. We are not the source of light or truth or life – we bear witness to it, and at our best we reflect it. Any time we draw people’s attention to our own goodness or faith or opinions or holiness, we in a sense usurp Christ’s light. We are meant to be mirrors, not light fixtures, and for that we need to keep our glass clean.
One might say we share the ministry of the moon, which is not itself light, not the light generator, but bears witness to the sun, reflecting light that can be seen in the darkness. In our current dark times, our ministry as those who reflect God’s light (Son-Light?) is all the more urgent.
Think about the worlds in which you are being called to testify to the Light. Are people seeing God’s light, or your own? What cleansing needs to happen so that we reflect God’s light even more powerfully?
In an odd bit of free-association, U2’s song, Mysterious Ways, makes me think of John the Baptist. Perhaps I read about a link in a book about Christian themes in U2 songs (One Step Closer), or maybe I made it for myself, but there’s something about, “Johnny, take a walk with silver the moon,” that makes me think of John, whose ministry must have been a lonely one. And the lyric,
To touch is to heal, to hurt is to steal/
If you want to kiss the sky, better learn how to kneel
Is one way to render John’s message of repentance and return.
The One whose ways are most mysterious is the Spirit of God, who can make the Light of Christ visible even in moons as pale as we sometimes are.
12-8-23 - Baptized In Spirit
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
The baptism that John the Baptist administered in the Jordan River was more than a bath, though not precisely what we know as baptism. This ritual submersion symbolically enacted the spiritual work of repentance entered into by those who flocked to hear John’s message. Perhaps it was akin to the mikveh known in Judaism today. John knew this was a rite of preparation, not the whole deal.
John had a mission: to help people prepare for a revelation of God no one could truly anticipate, not even John. Who could imagine God embodied before beholding that mystery? John only knew that the One to come was more powerful and holy than could be conceived. He had just one job: to invite repentance, a clearing of spiritual space. His water ritual could convey that reality. Beyond that was another baptism that only Christ could effect: baptism with the Holy Spirit.
He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”
What does it mean to be “baptized with the Holy Spirit?” Pentecostals' use of that language can make “mainline religious" folks kind of twitchy. But here it is, right in the gospels. What does it mean? Some see it as being filled with the Holy Spirit to the point where there is a discernible manifestation like speaking in tongues or prophesying or power to heal. This was what it meant to Paul’s Corinthian congregations, who were very focused on discernible manifestations of the Spirit’s power.
What might “baptism in the Spirit” mean to us? Let’s try a thought experiment. Imagine being submerged in water. Let yourself experience it in your mind. What happens when you sink into deep water? You get wet all over; the water even gets into your nose and mouth. Depending on temperature differential with the air, you might find yourself pleasantly warmed or cooled, refreshed, comforted. You find yourself supported by the water’s density; it’s not all up to you.
Let’s assume that’s what baptism in the Spirit means: we are drenched and filled with the Spirit of the Living God, uniting with our spirit to fill us with God-Life. We might find ourselves getting very warm, or cool – we feel energy coming into us, and we are refreshed. We find ourselves in the presence of another Presence – we are not alone; we are conduits for power from outside us. It’s not all up to us.
I wish more Christians would crave being filled with the Holy Spirit, would ardently seek spiritual gifts to support them in the ministries to which they feel called. The Holy Spirit is the Gift that gives more gifts, always replenishing us – as we ask. For some reason, the Spirit seems to want invitation.
If you desire a deeper experience of the Holy Spirit, pray for it. Be open to the sensations you might experience. Be open to not experiencing anything in that moment – you might realize something has changed down the line.
The Holy Spirit is our gift at baptism, renewed in eucharist, replenished whenever we are active in God’s mission to reclaim, restore and renew all of creation. In fact, the Spirit is how we find ourselves reclaimed, restored and renewed.
The baptism that John the Baptist administered in the Jordan River was more than a bath, though not precisely what we know as baptism. This ritual submersion symbolically enacted the spiritual work of repentance entered into by those who flocked to hear John’s message. Perhaps it was akin to the mikveh known in Judaism today. John knew this was a rite of preparation, not the whole deal.
John had a mission: to help people prepare for a revelation of God no one could truly anticipate, not even John. Who could imagine God embodied before beholding that mystery? John only knew that the One to come was more powerful and holy than could be conceived. He had just one job: to invite repentance, a clearing of spiritual space. His water ritual could convey that reality. Beyond that was another baptism that only Christ could effect: baptism with the Holy Spirit.
He proclaimed, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the thong of his sandals. I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”
What does it mean to be “baptized with the Holy Spirit?” Pentecostals' use of that language can make “mainline religious" folks kind of twitchy. But here it is, right in the gospels. What does it mean? Some see it as being filled with the Holy Spirit to the point where there is a discernible manifestation like speaking in tongues or prophesying or power to heal. This was what it meant to Paul’s Corinthian congregations, who were very focused on discernible manifestations of the Spirit’s power.
What might “baptism in the Spirit” mean to us? Let’s try a thought experiment. Imagine being submerged in water. Let yourself experience it in your mind. What happens when you sink into deep water? You get wet all over; the water even gets into your nose and mouth. Depending on temperature differential with the air, you might find yourself pleasantly warmed or cooled, refreshed, comforted. You find yourself supported by the water’s density; it’s not all up to you.
Let’s assume that’s what baptism in the Spirit means: we are drenched and filled with the Spirit of the Living God, uniting with our spirit to fill us with God-Life. We might find ourselves getting very warm, or cool – we feel energy coming into us, and we are refreshed. We find ourselves in the presence of another Presence – we are not alone; we are conduits for power from outside us. It’s not all up to us.
I wish more Christians would crave being filled with the Holy Spirit, would ardently seek spiritual gifts to support them in the ministries to which they feel called. The Holy Spirit is the Gift that gives more gifts, always replenishing us – as we ask. For some reason, the Spirit seems to want invitation.
If you desire a deeper experience of the Holy Spirit, pray for it. Be open to the sensations you might experience. Be open to not experiencing anything in that moment – you might realize something has changed down the line.
The Holy Spirit is our gift at baptism, renewed in eucharist, replenished whenever we are active in God’s mission to reclaim, restore and renew all of creation. In fact, the Spirit is how we find ourselves reclaimed, restored and renewed.
12-7-23 - All the Rage
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Imagine people taking buses out of town to hear some wild guy in the desert rail about sin, lining up to get dunked in a river as a sign of repentance. Imagine people lining up to get into a church. Oh, wait, that does happen, some places… Religion can still draw crowds, but it’s less and less common.
What was it that drew throngs out to the wilderness to see John? I’m sure he was some spectacle… but what was it about him that caused them to respond?
John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.
Jesus asked the crowds much the same question, years later. In Luke’s Gospel we read that after John had languished in Herod’s prison for years, he sent some of his followers to ask Jesus if he was the one they'd been waiting for; doubts must have crept into his mind. Jesus cites as evidence the miraculous healings and transformations that people around him were experiencing… and then he takes the crowd to task about John. “Who did you go out there to see?” he asks. “A reed swaying in the wind? A man dressed in fine clothes?”
What did they go out there to see? Was it John’s fierceness? In Mark’s telling, John is pretty mild; in Matthew and Luke he appears more like a wild man, raging about judgment and fire. “The ax is already laid at the root of the trees,” he thunders. “The one who is coming after me will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.” And still they came, still they repented, still they were baptized. Scared straight? Maybe… Or perhaps they responded to his holiness.
John had a remarkable clarity about his mission, and a single-mindedness about fulfilling it. He never seemed to forget who he was, the advance man for a much bigger show. His mission was to prepare a people to receive their God. He had amazing integrity along with his blazing intensity. People came, they wept, they repented, they received his baptism, they went home and told their friends to come. Maybe they came for the show and stayed for the reality. Maybe they stayed because they wanted connection to God, and he was the closest thing they’d seen in ages.
What would draw us to John the Baptist? How does his call to repent, prepare the way of the Lord, land in our spirits 2000 years later? Are there aspects of his mission we want to share? Are there ways we can call the powers of our world to repentance and transformation? Ways we can call people we know to repentance and transformation? Ways we can call ourselves to repentance and transformation?
John’s call resonates through the ages to us. We want to connect to God too, deep in our spirits. We want to make more space for God in our lives, Repentance creates space, space that only God can fill. Repent, prepare the way. Our God is on the move!
Imagine people taking buses out of town to hear some wild guy in the desert rail about sin, lining up to get dunked in a river as a sign of repentance. Imagine people lining up to get into a church. Oh, wait, that does happen, some places… Religion can still draw crowds, but it’s less and less common.
What was it that drew throngs out to the wilderness to see John? I’m sure he was some spectacle… but what was it about him that caused them to respond?
John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him, and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.
Jesus asked the crowds much the same question, years later. In Luke’s Gospel we read that after John had languished in Herod’s prison for years, he sent some of his followers to ask Jesus if he was the one they'd been waiting for; doubts must have crept into his mind. Jesus cites as evidence the miraculous healings and transformations that people around him were experiencing… and then he takes the crowd to task about John. “Who did you go out there to see?” he asks. “A reed swaying in the wind? A man dressed in fine clothes?”
What did they go out there to see? Was it John’s fierceness? In Mark’s telling, John is pretty mild; in Matthew and Luke he appears more like a wild man, raging about judgment and fire. “The ax is already laid at the root of the trees,” he thunders. “The one who is coming after me will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.” And still they came, still they repented, still they were baptized. Scared straight? Maybe… Or perhaps they responded to his holiness.
John had a remarkable clarity about his mission, and a single-mindedness about fulfilling it. He never seemed to forget who he was, the advance man for a much bigger show. His mission was to prepare a people to receive their God. He had amazing integrity along with his blazing intensity. People came, they wept, they repented, they received his baptism, they went home and told their friends to come. Maybe they came for the show and stayed for the reality. Maybe they stayed because they wanted connection to God, and he was the closest thing they’d seen in ages.
What would draw us to John the Baptist? How does his call to repent, prepare the way of the Lord, land in our spirits 2000 years later? Are there aspects of his mission we want to share? Are there ways we can call the powers of our world to repentance and transformation? Ways we can call people we know to repentance and transformation? Ways we can call ourselves to repentance and transformation?
John’s call resonates through the ages to us. We want to connect to God too, deep in our spirits. We want to make more space for God in our lives, Repentance creates space, space that only God can fill. Repent, prepare the way. Our God is on the move!
12-6-23 - Level Ground
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
In his lifetime, John the Baptist was often associated with the prophet Elijah – many wondered if he were in fact Elijah returned. But the prophet the Gospel writers most closely linked him with was Isaiah, particularly his prophecy of an estranged Israel reconciled with her God. This passage, also an appointed reading for this Sunday, speaks tenderly of restoration; it provides much of the libretto of the Christmas portion of Handel’s Messiah. (Here is a rendition, conducted by Sir Colin Davis at the Barbican.)
We looked yesterday at this passage's command to “prepare the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.”
But the prophet has more in mind than building roads – in his vision, the whole topography is to be reconfigured: “Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.”
There is a leveling principle at work here, paralleled in the Magnifcat, the Song of Mary, that hymn to economic equity – "He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly.” Both of these movements are evident in the incarnation of Jesus, Son of God, born to the lowly woman to whom these words are attributed, lifting her up even as he consents to leave his heavenly throne.
Is the in-breaking realm of God about smoothing out the uneven ground, bringing down the hills and raising up the valleys? That could make for a dull landscape. Yet it also enables movement, reducing barriers between peoples.
And what if, once more, we look inward and view this leveling process as an inner movement? What if the hills and valleys of our hearts, of our moods, became more even, our “rough places” became a plain? Would that make us dull – or more serene, content, better containers for God’s power and love, vessels of God’s healing?
I invite you, in prayer, to think about the valleys inside you; reflect back on your life and look at the “valley times.” Do the same with the mountains and hills, the high points, the high places. What if they came together more?
Where is the ground in your life uneven? Would you like God to smooth it? Where are your “rough places?” Envision them as flat and true as a prairie – is that a fruitful image for you?
Isaiah, speaking for God, said that a beautiful thing will follow this great leveling: "Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the LORD has spoken."
We can glimpse God’s glory every time we level a road so everyone has the same access, whether in the realm of money, power, justice – even feelings. We help reveal God's glory.
In his lifetime, John the Baptist was often associated with the prophet Elijah – many wondered if he were in fact Elijah returned. But the prophet the Gospel writers most closely linked him with was Isaiah, particularly his prophecy of an estranged Israel reconciled with her God. This passage, also an appointed reading for this Sunday, speaks tenderly of restoration; it provides much of the libretto of the Christmas portion of Handel’s Messiah. (Here is a rendition, conducted by Sir Colin Davis at the Barbican.)
We looked yesterday at this passage's command to “prepare the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.”
But the prophet has more in mind than building roads – in his vision, the whole topography is to be reconfigured: “Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain.”
There is a leveling principle at work here, paralleled in the Magnifcat, the Song of Mary, that hymn to economic equity – "He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly.” Both of these movements are evident in the incarnation of Jesus, Son of God, born to the lowly woman to whom these words are attributed, lifting her up even as he consents to leave his heavenly throne.
Is the in-breaking realm of God about smoothing out the uneven ground, bringing down the hills and raising up the valleys? That could make for a dull landscape. Yet it also enables movement, reducing barriers between peoples.
And what if, once more, we look inward and view this leveling process as an inner movement? What if the hills and valleys of our hearts, of our moods, became more even, our “rough places” became a plain? Would that make us dull – or more serene, content, better containers for God’s power and love, vessels of God’s healing?
I invite you, in prayer, to think about the valleys inside you; reflect back on your life and look at the “valley times.” Do the same with the mountains and hills, the high points, the high places. What if they came together more?
Where is the ground in your life uneven? Would you like God to smooth it? Where are your “rough places?” Envision them as flat and true as a prairie – is that a fruitful image for you?
Isaiah, speaking for God, said that a beautiful thing will follow this great leveling: "Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the LORD has spoken."
We can glimpse God’s glory every time we level a road so everyone has the same access, whether in the realm of money, power, justice – even feelings. We help reveal God's glory.
12-5-23 - Into the Wilderness
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Oh, for the placement of a comma! Is John the Baptist “one crying out in the wilderness?”(as Hymn 75 in the Episcopal hymnal would have it), or is he one crying out, “In the wilderness, prepare the way of the Lord?” The lack of punctuation in New Testament Greek leaves plenty of room for confusion. Luckily in this case, the gospel is quoting from a section of Isaiah in the Hebrew Bible: A voice cries out: "In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.”
The comma confusion always left me an impression of John as a lone voice crying in the wilderness for God’s people to repent and return to their Lord. Clarification reminds me that his invitation is rather to prepare in the wilderness a way for God. And that generates all kinds of other questions. Why in the wilderness? Why make straight a highway for God in the desert? Is there too much noise in our urban and suburban lives to hear a voice crying out, “Prepare the way?”
Or might we take “wilderness” as a metaphor, internalizing it to represent the chaos of our multiply-committed lives? Wilderness can suggest a stark emptiness. It can also evoke chaos, lack of order. Which description better fits your inner landscape today?
Perhaps preparing a way for God in our wilderness means locating the wild, untamed, unyielded places within ourselves. Those are often where God’s Spirit best meets our own. Or maybe it means that the messiest parts of our lives are where we are invited to prepare a way for the Lord, de-cluttering, clearing out so as to access our most essential selves.
Wilderness is also something we need. We can become cut off from ourselves, so distracted by our tasks and data, our commitments and the priorities others impose upon us, that we haven’t dealt with or dwelt in our own wilderness for quite some time. Advent offers a particular invitation to do that – to intensify the spiritual practices that connect us to God and to ourselves; to take some retreat time either daily or going on an actual retreat, to rediscover the desert within and straighten out the highway for God’s presence to enter our lives with more fullness.
Which of the many questions today resonated with you?
Oh, for the placement of a comma! Is John the Baptist “one crying out in the wilderness?”(as Hymn 75 in the Episcopal hymnal would have it), or is he one crying out, “In the wilderness, prepare the way of the Lord?” The lack of punctuation in New Testament Greek leaves plenty of room for confusion. Luckily in this case, the gospel is quoting from a section of Isaiah in the Hebrew Bible: A voice cries out: "In the wilderness prepare the way of the LORD, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.”
The comma confusion always left me an impression of John as a lone voice crying in the wilderness for God’s people to repent and return to their Lord. Clarification reminds me that his invitation is rather to prepare in the wilderness a way for God. And that generates all kinds of other questions. Why in the wilderness? Why make straight a highway for God in the desert? Is there too much noise in our urban and suburban lives to hear a voice crying out, “Prepare the way?”
Or might we take “wilderness” as a metaphor, internalizing it to represent the chaos of our multiply-committed lives? Wilderness can suggest a stark emptiness. It can also evoke chaos, lack of order. Which description better fits your inner landscape today?
Perhaps preparing a way for God in our wilderness means locating the wild, untamed, unyielded places within ourselves. Those are often where God’s Spirit best meets our own. Or maybe it means that the messiest parts of our lives are where we are invited to prepare a way for the Lord, de-cluttering, clearing out so as to access our most essential selves.
Wilderness is also something we need. We can become cut off from ourselves, so distracted by our tasks and data, our commitments and the priorities others impose upon us, that we haven’t dealt with or dwelt in our own wilderness for quite some time. Advent offers a particular invitation to do that – to intensify the spiritual practices that connect us to God and to ourselves; to take some retreat time either daily or going on an actual retreat, to rediscover the desert within and straighten out the highway for God’s presence to enter our lives with more fullness.
Which of the many questions today resonated with you?
Where did you feel yourself reacting?
What invitation to prayer do you discern out of your reflection on inner wilderness?
Where in yourself do you want to “prepare the way for the Lord, make straight a highway for our God?”
A surprising image springs up in my mind: a community-service gang in orange jumpsuits, clearing up litter by the side of the highway. Not a bad Advent image for us to entertain today; we are all prisoners of our selves, to some degree, on the way to liberation. Why not clear a highway for our Liberator to hasten our freedom?
What invitation to prayer do you discern out of your reflection on inner wilderness?
Where in yourself do you want to “prepare the way for the Lord, make straight a highway for our God?”
A surprising image springs up in my mind: a community-service gang in orange jumpsuits, clearing up litter by the side of the highway. Not a bad Advent image for us to entertain today; we are all prisoners of our selves, to some degree, on the way to liberation. Why not clear a highway for our Liberator to hasten our freedom?
12-4-23 - Into the Desert
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Black Friday and Giving Tuesday are past; colored lights blink on every other house. Must be about time for John the Baptist to saunter out of the desert, just as our consumer frenzy churns toward its secular apotheosis, to remind us that it’s Advent – and that “theosis” pertains to God.
John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.
We only seem to let John out once a year, this not-so-cuddly prophet of repentance. Repentance is not much in vogue, and John is more than a bit odd, in his weird attire and diet of locusts and wild honey. We could consider him a proto-vegan, but for his camel skin coat and leather belt.
But John is where all four gospels start to tell “the Good News of Jesus Christ, the Son of God,” as Mark begins his account. John is the one sent to “make ready a people prepared for the Lord,” the angel Gabriel told his father Zechariah when announcing John’s improbable conception. Zechariah himself sings out when John is born: “And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins."
This suggests that repentance is our entryway into the “knowledge of salvation.” Repentance is a pre-requisite to feeling the need of salvation – awareness of what we need saving from. If we’re all hunky-dory without Jesus, he really need not have bothered with all that incarnation, crucifixion, resurrection and redemption business. We have to believe some level of estrangement with God, and accept some degree of human culpability for the state of the world, in order to comprehend or even desire salvation.
Accepting these realities is repentance. Repentance doesn’t have to be a laundry list of personal sins and short-comings. It is an awareness of being less than what we were created to be, and a desire to accept forgiveness and invite the kind of healing that remedies that fault.
So let’s begin Advent with repentance, since that is John’s specialty. Like those who traveled out of their safe zones to go see him in the wilderness, to hear his call to repent and receive his baptism of cleansing, let’s wander away from our patterns of stuckness, our self-justifications, our self-saving strategies, and ask the Holy Spirit to show us how we have grown apart from God. We might try this each day this week, and see what gets freed and released. If it helps, you can use this Inventory of Confession or pray this Litany of Forgiveness. (You can find other resources for spiritual work here.)
Where does our pride kick up? Where do our relationships cause us to wince or get defensive? Where is shame rooted in us, a deep sense of unworthiness? We can bring these into the light of God’s love, feel the feelings related to each root of bitterness, and begin to release it to God for forgiveness and healing.
The forgiveness has already been given. The healing begins as we accept the forgiveness and desire new growth.
Black Friday and Giving Tuesday are past; colored lights blink on every other house. Must be about time for John the Baptist to saunter out of the desert, just as our consumer frenzy churns toward its secular apotheosis, to remind us that it’s Advent – and that “theosis” pertains to God.
John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.
We only seem to let John out once a year, this not-so-cuddly prophet of repentance. Repentance is not much in vogue, and John is more than a bit odd, in his weird attire and diet of locusts and wild honey. We could consider him a proto-vegan, but for his camel skin coat and leather belt.
But John is where all four gospels start to tell “the Good News of Jesus Christ, the Son of God,” as Mark begins his account. John is the one sent to “make ready a people prepared for the Lord,” the angel Gabriel told his father Zechariah when announcing John’s improbable conception. Zechariah himself sings out when John is born: “And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways, to give knowledge of salvation to his people by the forgiveness of their sins."
This suggests that repentance is our entryway into the “knowledge of salvation.” Repentance is a pre-requisite to feeling the need of salvation – awareness of what we need saving from. If we’re all hunky-dory without Jesus, he really need not have bothered with all that incarnation, crucifixion, resurrection and redemption business. We have to believe some level of estrangement with God, and accept some degree of human culpability for the state of the world, in order to comprehend or even desire salvation.
Accepting these realities is repentance. Repentance doesn’t have to be a laundry list of personal sins and short-comings. It is an awareness of being less than what we were created to be, and a desire to accept forgiveness and invite the kind of healing that remedies that fault.
So let’s begin Advent with repentance, since that is John’s specialty. Like those who traveled out of their safe zones to go see him in the wilderness, to hear his call to repent and receive his baptism of cleansing, let’s wander away from our patterns of stuckness, our self-justifications, our self-saving strategies, and ask the Holy Spirit to show us how we have grown apart from God. We might try this each day this week, and see what gets freed and released. If it helps, you can use this Inventory of Confession or pray this Litany of Forgiveness. (You can find other resources for spiritual work here.)
Where does our pride kick up? Where do our relationships cause us to wince or get defensive? Where is shame rooted in us, a deep sense of unworthiness? We can bring these into the light of God’s love, feel the feelings related to each root of bitterness, and begin to release it to God for forgiveness and healing.
The forgiveness has already been given. The healing begins as we accept the forgiveness and desire new growth.
1-10-23 - 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 movies about John the Baptist – he is a strong, odd and gripping character. If I were to make a film of the scene we’re exploring this week, it would be a Mission Impossible-style spy thriller with secret agents lurking about (let’s give the soundtrack to Johnny Rivers - even if it does sound like he’s singing “secret Asian man”…). Spy thrillers come to mind when I read how John 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 dematerializing 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. In Luke’s account they are cousins. John’s Gospel draws on other traditions, and he wants to establish the validity of John the Baptist’s testimony. Hence this theme of identity and recognition.
So let’s go with that. 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 a desire to praise. Those are some internal ways – you might 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… 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.
The other way he said we’d know him is in other people: in other Christ-followers; in the poor, the hungry, the homeless, the sick, the lonely, the imprisoned. When you find yourself with someone in need, are you ever aware of Christ in that person? We can pray, “Jesus, let me see you.” It's a really good prayer when someone is annoying us.
John the Baptist says, “And 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 in you and me.
I don’t know why there aren’t more movies about John the Baptist – he is a strong, odd and gripping character. If I were to make a film of the scene we’re exploring this week, it would be a Mission Impossible-style spy thriller with secret agents lurking about (let’s give the soundtrack to Johnny Rivers - even if it does sound like he’s singing “secret Asian man”…). Spy thrillers come to mind when I read how John 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 dematerializing 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. In Luke’s account they are cousins. John’s Gospel draws on other traditions, and he wants to establish the validity of John the Baptist’s testimony. Hence this theme of identity and recognition.
So let’s go with that. 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 a desire to praise. Those are some internal ways – you might 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… 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.
The other way he said we’d know him is in other people: in other Christ-followers; in the poor, the hungry, the homeless, the sick, the lonely, the imprisoned. When you find yourself with someone in need, are you ever aware of Christ in that person? We can pray, “Jesus, let me see you.” It's a really good prayer when someone is annoying us.
John the Baptist says, “And 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 in you and me.
12-7-22 - Greater Than John?
You can listen to this reflection here. Sunday's gospel reading is here.
Advent introduces us to John the Baptist – who he was, why he was the way he was, what impact he had. Some people in his day thought he was the Messiah, or an incarnation of the prophet Elijah – until Herod imprisoned and later had him executed at the whim of his step-daughter. John truly was a holy man, and Jesus speaks of him as such: “Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist.”
And then he says something even more extraordinary:
Advent introduces us to John the Baptist – who he was, why he was the way he was, what impact he had. Some people in his day thought he was the Messiah, or an incarnation of the prophet Elijah – until Herod imprisoned and later had him executed at the whim of his step-daughter. John truly was a holy man, and Jesus speaks of him as such: “Truly I tell you, among those born of women no one has arisen greater than John the Baptist.”
And then he says something even more extraordinary:
“…yet the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.”
What was that about valleys being lifted up and mountains brought low, the lowly being exalted and the “mighty cast down from their thrones?” Here is Jesus, articulating again that equalizing quality of the realm of God – that equalizing which was so challenging to people in his own day, and has remained so in the thousands of years since.
To say that “the first will be last, and the last first,” that the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to “little children,” that the least “important” member of the household of God is greater than a saint like John – that’s radical. That’s a challenge to those who feel themselves to be important, and it’s an invitation to those who do not.
Can you imagine yourself greater than a prophet like John the Baptist? Can you imagine yourself as valuable, as worthy of honor? Because Jesus says that’s true – that those who consider themselves “in the kingdom of heaven” are that valuable, that worthy, that remarkable, that beloved.
My spiritual suggestion for today is to simply sit with that idea, of being that important in the Realm of God. No one is more important than you.
What was that about valleys being lifted up and mountains brought low, the lowly being exalted and the “mighty cast down from their thrones?” Here is Jesus, articulating again that equalizing quality of the realm of God – that equalizing which was so challenging to people in his own day, and has remained so in the thousands of years since.
To say that “the first will be last, and the last first,” that the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to “little children,” that the least “important” member of the household of God is greater than a saint like John – that’s radical. That’s a challenge to those who feel themselves to be important, and it’s an invitation to those who do not.
Can you imagine yourself greater than a prophet like John the Baptist? Can you imagine yourself as valuable, as worthy of honor? Because Jesus says that’s true – that those who consider themselves “in the kingdom of heaven” are that valuable, that worthy, that remarkable, that beloved.
My spiritual suggestion for today is to simply sit with that idea, of being that important in the Realm of God. No one is more important than you.
Try that on. How does it make you sit? Walk? Talk? Think?
Write down some of the reasons why you are so valuable in God’s eyes. We need to know that, to claim it, not so we can become big-headed, but so we can give God the glory. That’s what we’re here for – to glorify God in how we live and give.
Of course it’s not a popularity contest or a competition. My knowing myself to be that worthy doesn’t diminish the importance of John the Baptist – he’s the one who said, as Jesus’ ministry grew more public, “He must increase; I must decrease.”
I can just imagine the smile on John’s face growing bigger the more we recognize our worthiness in the eyes of God. I can imagine him looking at Jesus and nodding. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere…”
Last call for our online Spa for the Spirit this coming Saturday morning - registration and info below.
Write down some of the reasons why you are so valuable in God’s eyes. We need to know that, to claim it, not so we can become big-headed, but so we can give God the glory. That’s what we’re here for – to glorify God in how we live and give.
Of course it’s not a popularity contest or a competition. My knowing myself to be that worthy doesn’t diminish the importance of John the Baptist – he’s the one who said, as Jesus’ ministry grew more public, “He must increase; I must decrease.”
I can just imagine the smile on John’s face growing bigger the more we recognize our worthiness in the eyes of God. I can imagine him looking at Jesus and nodding. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere…”
Last call for our online Spa for the Spirit this coming Saturday morning - registration and info below.
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ADVENT SPA FOR THE SPIRIT: Living Expectantly
Saturday, December 10, 9 am - Noon Online
Rev. Kate will lead an Advent online retreat morning on “Living Expectantly.” The story of God has more than a few unexpected pregnancies – women too old or too young filled with unexpected life. Through art and poetry, scripture and reflection we will examine what it means to live in expectation of blessing and fullness and hope.
Please sign up here. The retreat will be on Zoom; link and info will be sent in advance.
Saturday, December 10, 9 am - Noon Online
Rev. Kate will lead an Advent online retreat morning on “Living Expectantly.” The story of God has more than a few unexpected pregnancies – women too old or too young filled with unexpected life. Through art and poetry, scripture and reflection we will examine what it means to live in expectation of blessing and fullness and hope.
Please sign up here. The retreat will be on Zoom; link and info will be sent in advance.
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