The vast majority of life is what can be referred to as “ordinary stuff.” Certainly, we have our up moments: mountaintop experiences, if you will; and there are the down times: dwelling in the valley. Most of the time we’re somewhere in-between, but either extreme can appear suddenly, unexpectedly, and we can be left at a loss to try to make sense of it all.

Perhaps something like that is what happened to Peter, James, and John when Jesus took them up a mountainside:

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus. As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead. –Mark 9:2-9 NRSV

If ever there’s a mountaintop experience in the Bible, this one surely qualifies. Not surprisingly, the two heavenly figures they meet are Elijah, who avoided physical death by being transported directly to heaven, and Moses, no stranger to mountaintop experiences with God, either.

It’s a rather curious story to many folks, almost out of place in Mark’s ongoing story of Jesus, who had been busy teaching, healing, and performing miracles throughout Galilee and Judea. Suddenly (and that word comes up over and over in Mark’s Gospel) we have a vision of who Jesus really is as a voice from heaven intones: “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!”

Near the conclusion of this strange and incredible event Peter starts talking. Well, he was like that. But James and John are silent, and most likely they were simply dumbfounded by what had just happened. How does anybody respond when suddenly they’re thrust into the presence of divinity?

Yes, this is big. It’s important. It’s Jesus put within a cosmic context. And yet that’s something that many of us Christians are unaccustomed to, perhaps rather uneasy about. Let’s face it: If Jesus is tucked away comfortably “in our hearts,” when he’s nothing more than a personal savior to each and every person, Jesus isn’t as much a threat to our comfort zone or daily life as when he becomes the cosmic Christ, the savior of the world, the One sent by God to change the course of human history. That can be pretty dangerous stuff. And stuff can spin out of control rather quickly.

Take a close look at that last part of what the “Voice” has to say: Listen to him!

And what is it that Jesus tells the three disciples on the way down the mountain: “…he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead.” Jesus would not lead the kind of triumphant victory march many Jews expected from the long-promised messiah but instead he would die and then be resurrected.

Whoa…they were not expecting that.

This is a constant problem for disciples of Jesus: when we’re least expecting it the heavens open to a new vision, a new reality, a new future calling us into it as servant ministers. And it can become much harder to just show up in church on a Sunday morning, sit comfortably in a pew or chair, and let that be what embodies our religious life.

As we prepare to once again enter the season of Lent, Listen to him….

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The scripture passages selected for the lectionary from the New Testament Gospel and the Hebrew Bible don’t always go together very well. But this week, in two stories about healing leprosy, they do:

Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Aram, was a great man and in high favor with his master, because by him the Lord had given victory to Aram. The man, though a mighty warrior, suffered from leprosy. Now the Arameans on one of their raids had taken a young girl captive from the land of Israel, and she served Naaman’s wife. She said to her mistress, “If only my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.” So Naaman went in and told his lord just what the girl from the land of Israel had said. And the king of Aram said, “Go then, and I will send along a letter to the king of Israel.” He went, taking with him ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, and ten sets of garments. He brought the letter to the king of Israel, which read, “When this letter reaches you, know that I have sent to you my servant Naaman, that you may cure him of his leprosy.” When the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his clothes and said, “Am I God, to give death or life, that this man sends word to me to cure a man of his leprosy? Just look and see how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me.” But when Elisha the man of God heard that the king of Israel had torn his clothes, he sent a message to the king, “Why have you torn your clothes? Let him come to me, that he may learn that there is a prophet in Israel.” So Naaman came with his horses and chariots, and halted at the entrance of Elisha’s house. Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, “Go, wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored and you shall be clean.” But Naaman became angry and went away, saying, “I thought that for me he would surely come out, and stand and call on the name of the Lord his God, and would wave his hand over the spot, and cure the leprosy! Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them, and be clean?” He turned and went away in a rage. But his servants approached and said to him, “Father, if the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How much more, when all he said to you was, “Wash, and be clean’?” So he went down and immersed himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God; his flesh was restored like the flesh of a young boy, and he was clean. –2 Kings 5:1-14 NRSV

And from Mark’s Gospel account:

A leper came to him begging him, and kneeling he said to him, “If you choose, you can make me clean.” Moved with pity, Jesus stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, “I do choose. Be made clean!” Immediately the leprosy left him, and he was made clean. After sternly warning him he sent him away at once, saying to him, “See that you say nothing to anyone; but go, show yourself to the priest, and offer for your cleansing what Moses commanded, as a testimony to them.” But he went out and began to proclaim it freely, and to spread the word, so that Jesus could no longer go into a town openly, but stayed out in the country; and people came to him from every quarter. –Mark 1:40-45 NRSV

On their surface both passages appear to be simply about the healing or “making clean” of men suffering from leprosy, which in biblical times could have meant any number of skin diseases. Of course, as is true of so much in the Bible, there is a lot more going on, much more below the surface and behind the scenes.

Naaman was a powerful man, a commander in the Aramean army. As such, he was certainly within the center of power in the ancient world and a man much to be feared by the Israelites. And yet his skin disease thrust him from the center of society out onto its margins. Lepers were “unclean,” both in Israel and elsewhere. None of his own Aramean healers could help him, and he was forced to chase down rumors of alternative healing across international borders. Perhaps this is not too unlike Americans crossing into northern Mexican border towns to seek healing from cancer or other modern-day scourges with treatments illegal in the United States.

An Israelite slave girl, captured in a previous armed raid and now a maid-servant of Naaman’s wife, gave him the tip. Given his personal history, Naaman was quite used to getting his way and ordering whomever he wanted in whatever way he desired. The Israelite prophet Elisha, however, upended the expected rules and gave him no special treatment whatsoever. After an initial tantrum, Naaman eventually complied and washed himself seven times in the River Jordan. In the end he proclaimed the sovereignty of Israel’s God and even took Israelite dirt back with him when he returned home. In short, Naaman was a powerful man very much at the center of society whose disease thrust him to the margins where he was humbled and cured. Assuming he returned to a powerful life in Aram, it’s perhaps safe to assume that his experience changed the course of his life.

Meanwhile, in chapter one of Mark’s Gospel, we find Jesus beginning his earthly ministry. As was true in last’s week’s Gospel lection, Jesus is becoming aware of the price of fame. Miraculous healings were drawing crowds so he could proclaim more widely his message of the coming kingdom of God on earth, but they also meant he couldn’t enter Galilean towns to do so and had to remain out in the countryside.

That’s where a man suffering from leprosy sought him. Unlike other healing stories where Jesus went to the person needing healing, this leperous man came to him. That, it must be remembered, was simply not allowed in proper society. Lepers were untouchables who were required to maintain a distance from other people and even call out “Unclean, unclean!” as a warning. Yet this man came to Jesus to tell him that if Jesus wanted to he could heal him. Furthermore, Jesus touched the man (which would have made Jesus just as much an unclean societal outcast) before instructing him to tell no one but to appear before the Temple priests to complete the ritual acts of returning to a clean life. The formerly diseased man, however, was so thrilled to be healed that he began to tell everybody he encountered, which of course made it even harder for Jesus to move around in society, keeping him constantly in the outlying countryside.

The irony here is that an unclean outcast on the margins of society was healed and brought back into the center of things by Jesus, who because he had touched and healed the man was himself thrust farther outside the mainstream. A constant characteristic of Jesus’ ministry is that it took place out on the margins, in humble service to his fellow Judeans and Galileans.

These two stories offer a pattern for modern-day followers of Jesus. Where should our ministry take place: At the seat of power or out on the margins? Yet where is the church more typically found? Two thousand years of Christianity have resulted in varying examples of Christendom. It wasn’t just Emperor Constantine’s efforts to join religion and the power of the state that defined Christendom. In 21st-century America there are many forces at work that promote Christianity as not only the dominant religion of the country but wish the “Christian way” (or perhaps more appropriately, a particular branch of Christianity, such as evangelicalism) to be the “American way.”

Certainly the church can become quite powerful and influential when it resides at the center of society. But is that Jesus’ way? With all the increasing economic and social challenges in the United States of America (and elsewhere, certainly), the example of Jesus’ healing and teaching propel those who call themselves disciples out onto the margins as humble servants and ministers of change.

Related articles

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• Between the Lines: Epiphany 6: February 12, 2012 (bibleworkbench.wordpress.com)
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• Wade in the Water (Ekklesiaproject.org/blog)

First, you get their attention….

That basic starting point was as true two thousand years ago as it is today. Jesus very quickly developed quite a reputation. Exorcisms and healings will do that. And from one perspective, all the drama provided clear evidence of divine power and, from our vantage point today, the beginnings of the kingdom of God on earth as it is in heaven. In any event, there’s certainly a lot to consider in this week’s Gospel lection from Mark:

As soon as they left the synagogue, they entered the house of Simon and Andrew, with James and John. Now Simon’s mother-in-law was in bed with a fever, and they told him about her at once. He came and took her by the hand and lifted her up. Then the fever left her, and she began to serve them. That evening, at sundown, they brought to him all who were sick or possessed with demons. And the whole city was gathered around the door. And he cured many who were sick with various diseases, and cast out many demons; and he would not permit the demons to speak, because they knew him. In the morning, while it was still very dark, he got up and went out to a deserted place, and there he prayed. And Simon and his companions hunted for him. When they found him, they said to him, “Everyone is searching for you.” He answered, “Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim the message there also; for that is what I came out to do.” And he went throughout Galilee, proclaiming the message in their synagogues and casting out demons. –Mark 1:29-39 NRSV

That scenario was repeated in one form or another several times during Jesus’ ministry. Crowds began to follow him everywhere to witness another miracle or perhaps to be the recipient of a healing themselves. But the press of the crowds kept him from the core of his ministry: to call the people to repentance and proclaim God’s kingdom.

It’s a challenge not unlike what the church still faces. With all of the distractions and competing forces in our world it’s hard to get people to pay attention to the church’s greatest ministry: calling people to repentance and proclaiming the kingdom of God on earth in the here and how. Finding the balance between attraction (through entertainment) and substance (helping turn people toward God and new life made possible by the gospel of Jesus Christ) is a tough and never-ending task for many congregations.

At one extreme are those churches that eschew anything and everything that remotely resembles entertainment (such as avoiding instrumental music accompaniment and other “worldly” activities). At the other are worship experiences that rely heavily on theatrical styles and often present some form of “gospel-lite” to bridge the gaps between musical numbers.

A not-completely-foolproof criterion I use is to look at the architecture of the worship space. If there’s no windows, that’s often a sign to me that maybe what I’m in for is more entertainment than anything else. That’s not a perfect plan, of course, but it’s at least a starting point.

What strikes me most from the passage in Mark this week is that Jesus had to sneak off to a deserted place early in the morning to pray. Even his disciples had trouble finding him. Obviously, there’s a time to gather and a time to be alone. Both are part of the spiritual life.

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There are many different ways to say this familiar refrain: But we’ve never done it that way before. The Gospel-writer Mark offers us one of the more unusual and creative ways in this week’s Gospel lectionary reading:

They went to Capernaum; and when the sabbath came, [Jesus] entered the synagogue and taught. They were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes. Just then there was in their synagogue a man with an unclean spirit, and he cried out, “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.” But Jesus rebuked him, saying, “Be silent, and come out of him!” And the unclean spirit, convulsing him and crying with a loud voice, came out of him. They were all amazed, and they kept on asking one another, “What is this? A new teaching—with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.” At once his fame began to spread throughout the surrounding region of Galilee. –Mark 1:21-28 NRSV

Of course, if your congregation or faith community is at all anything like mine, then exorcisms are, at best, a rarity and more likely a totally unheard-of event. But it’s not hard to imagine the possible conversations that took place in response to queries by those who’d failed to attend synagogue in Capernaum that Sabbath day: “So, how was the service this morning?”

The story is filled with interesting aspects. First of all, I find it curious that the only one to recognize Jesus’ authority and power as “the Holy One of God” was the demon. And there is the question of just what kind of religious teaching had been taking place there previously. Apparently it had become something of a spiritual desert, filled with empty ritual and a soothing, “let’s not make any waves” pastoral approach.

Sadly, we church folk are particularly prone to hesitancy when it comes to the new and different. Not that the “new and different” is automatically better, of course. But we tend to prefer things remain just the way they are, thank you very much. For more than a few of us religious types, there’s a form of magical thinking and remembering that takes place: a perception of the “good old days,” a golden time when everything was better, more organized, more clearly understood, and satisfactory–at least to those in control. That kind of “remembering” blots out all the bad stuff that was outside the view of the dominant mainstream.

It’s not just religion where this happens, of course. Politics can be just as guilty. For example, David Brooks, a columnist for the New York Times, wrote this regarding the current U.S. political primary season:

“Republican audiences this year want a restoration. America once had strong values, they believe, but we have gone astray. We’ve got to go back and rediscover what we had. Heads nod enthusiastically every time a candidate touches this theme. I agree with the sentiment, but it makes for an incredibly backward-looking campaign…. I sometimes wonder if the Republican Party has become the receding roar of white America as it pines for a way of life that will never return.” (NY Times, 1/17/2012)

After that memorable Sabbath day in Capernaum Jesus became big news in the nearby countryside. People began to flock to his side to see for themselves his amazing and astounding ministry. Of course, that fame kept him from going places and doing things and preaching the kingdom of God the way he would have preferred. Yet this same amazing, astounding ministry began to be viewed as a threat to those comfortably in power.

Whenever we preach the gospel (good news) of Christ today there will be those who respond eagerly and joyfully as well as those who see it as a threat to their security and comfort. It’s good to be prepared for both responses. We can look backward and remember the way things used to be (or at least the way we think they were) or we can look ahead to what’s coming: the amazing and astounding kingdom of God on earth as it is in heaven.

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The story of Jonah, as told in the Hebrew Bible book of the same name, is filled with one absurdity after another. And it’s not just the most famous part–Jonah being swallowed by a big fish (or whale, depending on how you like to tell the story) and later spit out on dry land safe and sound. Why, even Ninevah’s animals end up covered in sackcloth and ashes!

Normally Hebrew prophets were called to challenge their own people in Israel or Judah, usually bringing them to repentance. Here Israel/Judah isn’t even mentioned, and Jonah is sent to the last place any “son of Abraham” would want to go: the Assyrian city of Ninevah. Although cruelty and torture were commonplace among ancient peoples, the Assyrian empire was notable for exceeding even the standards of the time. It’s perhaps no wonder that Jonah initially ran in the opposite direction, fearing for his well-being and life. Why indeed would God want to show mercy to them?

But after his misadventures at sea Jonah finally ended up at the city gates:

The word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time, saying, “Get up, go to Nineveh, that great city, and proclaim to it the message that I tell you.” So Jonah set out and went to Nineveh, according to the word of the Lord. Now Nineveh was an exceedingly large city, a three days’ walk across. Jonah began to go into the city, going a day’s walk. And he cried out, “Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!” And the people of Nineveh believed God; they proclaimed a fast, and everyone, great and small, put on sackcloth. When the news reached the king of Nineveh, he rose from his throne, removed his robe, covered himself with sackcloth, and sat in ashes. Then he had a proclamation made in Nineveh: “By the decree of the king and his nobles: No human being or animal, no herd or flock, shall taste anything. They shall not feed, nor shall they drink water. Human beings and animals shall be covered with sackcloth, and they shall cry mightily to God. All shall turn from their evil ways and from the violence that is in their hands. Who knows? God may relent and change his mind; he may turn from his fierce anger, so that we do not perish.” When God saw what they did, how they turned from their evil ways, God changed his mind about the calamity that he had said he would bring upon them; and he did not do it. –Jonah 3:1-10 NRSV

Nowhere else in the entire Bible do we find such immediate and overwhelming success on a massive scale. Who knew? Well, perhaps God. And I suppose in an odd way this foreshadows the amazing immediacy by which 12 men suddenly followed Jesus when he called them to discipleship. That, of course, is the subject of this week’s Gospel lectionary reading in Mark.

Yes, this is a rather crazy story, and way too much energy and time has been expended over the centuries debating its authenticity. Is it true, people often ask initially. In our familiar, 21st-century, objective, factual way–no, of course not. Is it true, in the sense that it offers divine truth and insight. Yes, certainly.

We Christians often wax rather poetic when the topic turns to mercy and forgiveness, yet we generally turn much less enthusiastic when it’s all about forgiving and showing mercy to those we feel deserve judgment and retribution. In that sense, we’re just like Jonah.

Who might our contemporary equivalent be to Jonah’s Ninevites? I’ll leave that to each individual reader here. However, I recall the common response several months ago to the killing of Osama bin Laden. There were jubilant celebrations lasting well into that Sunday night, followed the next few days by more sober assessments about the appropriateness of celebrating anybody’s death, even a cold-blooded terrorist like bin Laden. But what if–and here I know I’m stepping on somebody’s toes, if not tempting widespread righteous indignation–what if God has shown mercy even to…him?

As followers and disciples of Jesus Christ we are called to be agents of peace, reconciliation, mercy, and hope in the world. Can we draw a line anywhere in that, or like Jonah has God challenged us to a seemingly impossible mission?

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The calling of Samuel to the Lord’s service as an eventual prophet hinges on a single sentence from this week’s lections: “The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.”

The chief priest at the Shiloh shrine, Eli, was not only becoming physically blind and deaf but spiritually, as well. Whether he actually knew about the details himself, Eli’s sons were abusing their father’s position by keeping sacrificial meat for themselves. It sounds odd to our own 21st-century ears, but their actions in removing meat from the shrine’s boiling pots and insisting that the fattest (and therefore tastiest) portions of raw meat be given to them showed what little regard they had for the people’s spiritual lives.

With that as background we pick up the story of Hannah’s young son, Samuel (and much could be written about her struggles against her “sister wife” and their husband Elkana’s contempt for her) as he begins his service to the aged priest (it’s lengthy but worth reading all the way through):

Now the boy Samuel was ministering to the Lord under Eli. The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread. At that time Eli, whose eyesight had begun to grow dim so that he could not see, was lying down in his room; the lamp of God had not yet gone out, and Samuel was lying down in the temple of the Lord, where the ark of God was. Then the Lord called, “Samuel! Samuel!” and he said, “Here I am!” and ran to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call; lie down again.” So he went and lay down.

John Singleton Copley (1780)

The Lord called again, “Samuel!” Samuel got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” But he said, “I did not call, my son; lie down again.” Now Samuel did not yet know the Lord, and the word of the Lord had not yet been revealed to him. The Lord called Samuel again, a third time. And he got up and went to Eli, and said, “Here I am, for you called me.” Then Eli perceived that the Lord was calling the boy. Therefore Eli said to Samuel, “Go, lie down; and if he calls you, you shall say, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.’ ” So Samuel went and lay down in his place. Now the Lord came and stood there, calling as before, “Samuel! Samuel!” And Samuel said, “Speak, for your servant is listening.” Then the Lord said to Samuel, “See, I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears of it tingle. On that day I will fulfill against Eli all that I have spoken concerning his house, from beginning to end. For I have told him that I am about to punish his house forever, for the iniquity that he knew, because his sons were blaspheming God, and he did not restrain them. Therefore I swear to the house of Eli that the iniquity of Eli’s house shall not be expiated by sacrifice or offering forever.” Samuel lay there until morning; then he opened the doors of the house of the Lord. Samuel was afraid to tell the vision to Eli. But Eli called Samuel and said, “Samuel, my son.” He said, “Here I am.” Eli said, “What was it that he told you? Do not hide it from me. May God do so to you and more also, if you hide anything from me of all that he told you.” So Samuel told him everything and hid nothing from him. Then he said, “It is the Lord; let him do what seems good to him.” As Samuel grew up, the Lord was with him and let none of his words fall to the ground. And all Israel from Dan to Beer-sheba knew that Samuel was a trustworthy prophet of the Lord. –1 Samuel 3:1-20 NRSV

It’s to Eli’s credit that he recognized the “word of the Lord” to him, even though it was a word of harsh judgment. Once Samuel was grown and functioning as a true prophet among people who still were unaccustomed to hearing God’s word, he would be the emissary bringing divine judgment against Israel’s first king, Saul. Yes, long before that Samuel had tried to persuade the people against the idea of monarchy, to no avail obviously. Saul’s departure led, of course, to David and then Solomon. Both were imperfect men and monarchs, but God still used them for greater purposes.

We live in a time when many people put forth the argument that the word of the Lord is rare and that visions are nonexistent. Certainly there are people, in both secular/political and religious leadership, who act as blind and deaf as Eli. Maybe they just don’t want to see or hear the misery and misfortune of vast numbers of people today. But I reject the idea that nobody is recognizing the situation of poverty, homelessness, abuse, and hunger (for starters) and doing anything about it.

One morning a week I volunteer with Harvesters, the major food bank serving 26 counties in Missouri and Kansas centered in Kansas City, Missouri. I bring this up not for anything extraordinary I do. I simply load a Ford Econoline van with boxes of groceries and make deliveries in the metro Kansas City area. (For a guy who’s spent most of his adult life working in an office, getting to “play” deliveryman is a welcome change of pace.) The remarkable, “prophetic” thing I witness each week happens after I back the van into one of the 17 loading bays at Harvesters headquarters. Some weeks I have to wait my turn because of the busyness of the place.

Just a few of the vehicles at Harvesters on a weekday morning.

Starting early in the morning on each weekday, volunteers and paid staffers from the 620 nonprofit organizations in the Harvesters network load tons of food into trucks, car trunks, and trailers. I sometimes wonder just how some of them make it back to their home sites with such enormous loads. Most of the nonprofits are churches and faith-based charities. Some use Harvesters food to supplement their own community pantries, while others prepare meals weekly or even daily for people unable to provide adequately for themselves. The sheer enormity of food leaving the food bank each week tells me there’s a whole lot of hunger going on out there. The misery index appears to never let up.

So why do all these people do it? I’ve asked a few of them. Their individual explanations vary, but a common thread runs through their testimonies (and that’s the right term to use here, by the way): They heard the word of the Lord to “feed my sheep.” I would probably have personal difficulties with the beliefs, theologies, rituals, and perspectives of some of those who back their vehicles into place every week to load up with food. They would, no doubt, have as much trouble with some (or many!) of mine. That’s not the point. There are indeed people who, unlike Eli and his rascal sons and contemporary politicians and religious leaders, see and hear quite clearly. They are drawn into the Lord’s service by a vision of a better world, one hungry person at a time.

Thanks be to God.

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There was a time when Christians argued among themselves quite a bit about baptism. There’s the “when” question: infants, children old enough to realize what’s going on, or adults? There’s the “how” question: sprinkling, pouring, or full immersion (with a subset issue: once or three times)? And there’s the “why” question: washing away sins, “reenacting Jesus’ death by crucifixion and resurrection from the [watery] grave, a public expression of an inward grace, or a recognition of becoming part of God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven.

Artwork by Davezelenka

Not that those days are over, of course–far from it. There’s a sizable group of Christians who maintain that physical baptism (by rightly authorized persons) is an absolute requirement to gain admission to a heavenly reward. It’s fascinating to me, at least, how so many of these standard baptismal arguments have such a disconnect with Mark’s Gospel account of Jesus’ own baptism by John:

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. Now John was clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt around his waist, and he ate locusts and wild honey. 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.” In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” –Mark 1:4-11 NRSV

The story gets curiouser and curiouser once Apostle Paul’s experience in Ephesus, as recorded in Acts 19 is added to the mix:

While Apollos was in Corinth, Paul passed through the interior regions and came to Ephesus, where he found some disciples. He said to them, “Did you receive the Holy Spirit when you became believers?” They replied, “No, we have not even heard that there is a Holy Spirit.” Then he said, “Into what then were you baptized?” They answered, “Into John’s baptism.” Paul said, “John baptized with the baptism of repentance, telling the people to believe in the one who was to come after him, that is, in Jesus.” On hearing this, they were baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus. When Paul had laid his hands on them, the Holy Spirit came upon them, and they spoke in tongues and prophesied—-altogether there were about twelve of them. –Acts 19:1-7 NRSV

I can’t say I’ve ever personally witnessed such spiritual gifts as speaking in tongues and prophecy as part of either water baptism or the laying on of hands for confirmation. And it would be an easy route to follow that question back into good, old-fashioned Christian arguing about the validity of baptism/confirmation without those charismatic expressions. But let’s agree to not go there right now.

"Theophany" by Phillip Schwartz

Taken together, the sacraments of baptism and confirmation are acts of repentance, initiation into the church, a symbolic connection with the crucified and resurrected Christ, and an entryway into Christ’s peaceable kingdom on earth. Does it mean, therefore, that people who don’t see it or “do it” this way are forever outside God’s love and grace and protection? No. Who among us is authorized to place limits on what God does? As Christian tradition puts it, the Spirit blows as the Spirit wills to blow.

When I was eight years old I was baptized and confirmed. There’s a pretty big gap between what it meant to me way back then and what it means to me today. What it means at some point in the future, who am I to say at this point. And that, I think and believe, is how it should be.

Related articles

• Up from the Water — A Lectionary Reflection (bobcornwall.com)
• Why we baptize (cinhosa.wordpress.com)

[Note: For some reason the Community of Christ worship office substituted the Year C scriptures for this first Sunday after Christmas (Isaiah 60:1-6, Psalm 72:1-7, 10-14, Ephesians 1:3-14, Matthew 2:1-12/3:1-12 IV) instead of the Year B lectionary selections, as shown above. I'll stick with the Year B scriptures.]

The first Sunday after Christmas can be challenging for both preachers and those sitting in the pews. It’s been a busy few weeks, filled with music and drama and story and memories. Now that’s over. But chances are church sanctuaries are still decorated by Christmas greenery and extra candles–maybe the seasonal nativity scene is still occupying a corner of the front of the room. Yet everybody knows that Christmas is past.

This year there’s an added burden: the first Sunday after Christmas is also New Year’s Day. And so there’s all that late-night partying on Saturday night that may, in one way or another, make it tough to focus in the light of Sunday morning. Let’s not forget there’s more than a little football on TV this afternoon and evening, too.

The Gospel lection for this Sunday centers on Jesus’ dutiful parents, with strong connections to Jewish law and the Temple. This is juxtaposed with Apostle Paul’s letter to the Galatians and what was, at that time, a primary issue facing the young and struggling fellowship of Jesus-believers: Must a gentile convert become Jewish first (circumcision, dietary restrictions, etc.)?

Today such a question would be absurd, but then we’ve had 2,000 years to think about that and work through the issues involved. Paul’s contemporaries were facing this issue for the first time.

Paul valued the law, certainly. (And here Paul is referring not only to the Mosaic Law but “law” covering everybody else.) However, he looked deep within it and yet at the same time above and beyond it to instruct the Galatians. Stop looking to biology as the way to get into God’s “family,” he advised. Instead, he looked at the bigger picture and argued for adoption as a route made possible by divine grace.

But when the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, in order to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children. And because you are children, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!” So you are no longer a slave but a child, and if a child then also an heir, through God. –Galatians 4:4-7 NRSV

Paul looked back beyond Moses and the giving of the Law on Mount Sinai to Abraham as the original actor in the story of how God was, is, and would be faithful to divine promises. And we can all become, by adoption, children of father Abraham.

Paul apparently had little if any concern for the Christmas stories we value so highly. He wrote of the “fullness of time” and God sending the “Spirit of his Son into our hearts.” This is an amazing and profound theological truth, worth pondering on any day but perhaps especially so on the first day of a calendar year. Look what God has done for us, by bringing us into the divine “family”!

Indeed, if that is so, then what are we doing in response?

Related articles

• Time to Rejoice — Lectionary Reflection (bobcornwall.com)

To set the mood this week, here’s the Kings College Choir at Cambridge:

In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!” –Luke 2:8-14 NRSV

Angelic visitors return for a second week in the lectionary. Last Sunday Gabriel appeared to Mary; this time it’s an unnamed angel who appears to shepherds abiding with their flocks in the fields around Bethlehem. But that angel is suddenly joined by a multitude of the heavenly hosts praising God and proclaiming peace and good will. The first words spoken in each case were the same: Do not be afraid.

The shepherds, in particular, were terrified at first. And why shouldn’t they be, after all? This was definitely not the sort of thing that had ever happened. But now the child had been born, and so this was an event worth witnessing. Some unlucky shepherd no doubt had to stay with the sheep while the rest of them headed for town and a humble stable.

Although we don’t often think of it this way, fear has significant theological overtones. I would put myself in the category of those who contend that fear is the true opposite of faith, not doubt. Therefore, the angelic message “Fear not!” can be understood as a call to faith and faithfulness. In this instance God has not only done a new thing (which God has a habit of doing, I might add) but the one thing that changes everything–for humankind and for creation. With the birth of this child the tiny “seeds” of God’s kingdom on earth as it is in heaven have been planted. And as with newly planted seeds buried in the soil, nothing appears to have changed. But in fact everything has.

Fear continues to drive and enable much of what happens in our own 21st-century world. It leads to violence, bigotry, injustice, and hatred. It keeps us from doing and being what we know deep in our hearts and minds is the right thing to do and be. Fear is, quite possibly, the most powerful tool available to our own version of what Apostle Paul referred to as “principalities and powers.”

Fear causes us to cling to the familiar, the common, the expected, the usual. But it doesn’t have to, of course. We celebrate this weekend the moment in the history of creation when fear began to lose its grip. Who would have expected then (or, for that matter, now as far as most people are concerned) that a child born in the most humble and unassuming of circumstances would be responsible?

A child is born and fear begins to lose its firm grip on a world in need of saving. Hallelujah!

One last YouTube video: Note the exact moment when Linus drops his security blanket (believed to be the only time in Peanuts cartoon history when he did that):

Related articles

• Christ the Babe is Lord of All (iwasthinking.me)
• A Reflection for Christmas 2011 (friarbobjohn.wordpress.com)
• Tidings to Shepherds: Broadcasts to Outcasts (reflectionsintheword.org)

Giovanni Lanfranco

Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.” Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her. –Luke 1:34-38 NRSV

Major parts of this portion of Luke’s Gospel, officially referred to as the Annunciation in Christian churches, cause some feverish head-scratching among many Christians. Maybe it’s the use of the word “virgin” in regard to Mary or the title “Son of God” for Jesus. Some of us, after all, either want or need to find rational explanations for everything in the Bible. If biblical detail doesn’t quite fit our intellectual comfort zone we’re tempted to either ignore or discard it. Angelic visitation is a prime example.

But should it? There are quite a number of theophanies (whether attributed to God’s self or divine emmisary) throughout both biblical testaments. Gabriel’s appearance before Mary is, arguably, the most famous, at least for Christians. Perhaps it would be better, though, to focus on Mary. There’s a lot to consider.

First, the obvious question: Why her? Out of all the women in the history of the world, why this one? She’s obviously from the bottom tier of society. She’s very young. She and her betrothed had to travel to another country to have the baby, and afterward they fled through the night to cross yet another international border (illegally?) to escape the long arm of the law. And, of course, there’s the fact that she’s not even married! Put this story in the 21st century and a significant segment of Christianity would hold a condescending, if not bigoted, view of her.

Yet this “nobody” was chosen by God to give birth to the future savior of the world.

There are moments in the Christian life when it’s appropriate to set to one side the overwhelming urgency for rational explanation. God does what God wants to do. Our human understandings of propriety and fairness don’t really match up. If any of us were to launch an effort to save the entire world, this is not the way we’d probably do it.

Maurice Denis (1870-1943) was a modernist painter

Instead God sends a messenger (and Gabriel is not just anyangel, either, but the most important one in the heavenly hosts). Certainly Mary was perplexed not only by an angel showing up but furthermore by being addressed as one “favored by the Lord.” Like virtually all angelic visits, the first words out of Gabriel’s mouth were “Do not be afraid.” And in almost every case that caused the recipient to become even more afraid. You’d think angels would have learned by this time to be somewhat more subtle and gentle.

There is a curious theological note struck in what the angel tells Mary. Who will this child become? Gabriel does not say, “He will be the Son of God.” Instead, it’s “He will be called Son of God.” Maybe that helps ease the concerns of intellectually oriented Christians. Yes, it’s probably a small point, but why wasn’t Gabriel more definitive? Perhaps we should keep in mind (because we know how later chapters of this story play out) that once grown this child would be called a lot of things, many of them unpleasant. The same can be said for his disciples over the next two thousand years.

A week before we commemorate the humble birth of a baby in a Bethlehem stable that’s not a bad question to ponder: Who do we call him? A teacher, a healer, a miracle worker, a prophet–something far more or significantly less? And what kind of crazy God would plan out a salvation story like this one, would attempt to radically change reality from being based on violence and injustice to peace and justice?

Maybe it doesn’t make perfect, rational sense. Maybe it’s not supposed to. Maybe we’re suppose to wonder, to be in awe, to ponder in our hearts. Maybe we need to finally accept that, with God, all things are possible.

Related articles

• “Where is God’s House?” Sermon 12.18.11 (pastorcraig.org)
• Learning to Say Yes – A Sermon on the Annunciation, Luke 1:26-38, Advent 4B (interruptingthesilence.com)