1-9-20 - Spirit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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1-8-20 - Water

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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1-7-20 - Submission

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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1-6-20 - Happy Epiphany!

(You can listen to this reflection here.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(You can listen to this reflection here.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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1-2-20 - Passover In Jerusalem

(You can listen to this reflection here.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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1-1-20 - Power In the Name

(You can listen to this reflection here.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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