I've been off the radar for the last couple of weeks due to a nasty infection - oral surgery is not one of my favorite pastimes. During an uncomfortable time, Jesus' words offered a lot of comfort. When I don't have the strength, or am in pain, there's someone to lean on.This last Sunday's gospel from Matthew 11:16-18, 28-30 is one of those passages in the Christian scripture that despite Jesus' denunciation of Bethsaida, Chorazin and Capernum, he invites us to come to him that our burdens may be lifted from our shoulders, and how beautiful the invitation is:
"Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give
you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble
in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."
(Matthew 11:28-30).
Such a deal, one might think! I can just let Jesus take care of everything.
It's this deacon's opinion that nah, don't think so.
Jesus offers a shoulder to lean on, but I think he would expect that in dark times, in times of uncertainty, frustration, fear and pain, we turn to Him for guidance, to learn from His example. And while we're being offered support, maybe that will give us time to put matters to prayer and have the strength to act on whatever we're being called to do in Christ's name. From Jesus of Nazareth we can model His new command-ment - love one another as Christ loves us.
I often quote this and mention it in conversation and sermons and in my writing, but it bears repeating, that and his paraphrasing of Deuteronomy 10:12-15 at Mark 12:29-30 and Matthew 22:34-40:
"The most important one," {commandment} answered Jesus, "is this: 'Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one; you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind and with all your strength. ' The second is this: 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' There is no other commandment greater than this."(Mark 12:29-30)
Loving your neighbor, whether a friend, a stranger, or a co-worker with which you barely share three words in one day, is difficult. Love comes more easily if we let our egos and human frailty, our tendencies to want to be first, and our search for perfection in beauty and mind, to be the center of the universe. And that's where Jesus' yoke comes into play. Yokes are those harnesses that go over the shoulders of an ox or horse to keep them attached to a wagon, cart, or plow. It's used to help bear heavy loads. Made of hardwood, they're pretty heavy - but not as heavy as the cross-beam Jesus carried on humanity�s behalf in his exhausted state to Golgotha. Once we get out of the blinding sun of our own wants and needs, and step into the shadow Jesus we are able to take up the yoke � one made with Jesus' support and the strength of love and faith, of submitting our hearts, souls and minds to the ever-present, ever powerful, unconditional love of God and loving Christ as we love the Father.Go in peace, dear ones!With God's love and mine, Ellen+
Showing posts with label Christ. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christ. Show all posts
09 July, 2008
Yokes That Are Tailored to Fit
19 January, 2008
Wade in the Water
It's a safe bet that a majority of people raised in the church don't remember their baptisms because they were infants or toddlers when they were emmersed, sealed and marked as Christ's own. Then there are those Christians who for whatever reason weren't baptised until they were older children, youth or adults. I'm in the second category.
Actually, I'm not.
My baptism happened when I was eight years old on a warm August evening. For days I'd been pestering my mother about becoming Christian. All of my friends were Roman Catholic (the largest denomination in town) and I wanted to be part of that exclusive club. Not because everyone else was doing it, mind, but because from an early age, I felt it was necessary for me to be who I was.
Let me give you the back story: my parents were Roman Catholic on my mother's side and Lutheran on my father's. My parents were married in the middle of World War II in a civil ceremony. Because of this, we weren't baptised as children due to the prohibitions of the church in those days.
I pestered my mother with questions about God, religion, Jesus, Mary and Joseph - which is what she used to sigh when I posited yet another question: "If women can't do anything in the church like boys, why did Jesus see Mary first?" - "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Ellen! The questions you ask!"
I continued my quest for baptism until one night my mother had had enough of my questions and sent me to bed.
I climbed under the covers so my sister couldn't hear my sobbing. When it was quiet and I was sure everyone was asleep, I went to the bathroom and turned on the taps. Filling up a glass of water, I tossed it on my face saying, "Father, Son, Holy Spirit - you're baptised! Amen!"
That's not what my mother said when she came in and saw the water all over the bathmats and tiles.
I didn't mind the week of restriction for payment for audacity. I felt I had done the right thing.
My truly Christian baptism came 34 years later at the age of 42, at my home parish of St. Mark's Episcopal Church, at the Great Vigil. Here I was sealed and marked, and seared - the baptismal water was a tad warm and I was the first to be baptised that evening. The rector whispered to me, "It's a little warm," as she baptised me. I still have a mark on my forehead where the first drops of water landed. I consider it my outward and visible sign.
Why did it take me so long to be baptised?
I went through Roman Catholic catechism and I read the baptismal covenant. Frankly, I didn't think I could keep the promises I was being asked to make: "Will you proclaim by word and exaple the Goods of God in Christ?" Well, I figured, in order to do that, I'd have to be better than others - act better and live a better life than most. "Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?" For me, it was hard to find a loving Christ in fellow office workers, family members, even myself - and serving them!
For years I struggled with these questions, and then I realized that God doesn't want me to be perfect, just do God's perfect work. Christ said, "Be perfect as our Father is perfect." But what does that mean? God created our world! God is everywhere! How am I able to do that?
Creation is full of little mistakes and imperfections, just like me. God wants me to to strive for the holiness one can only have with a deep and committed relationship with Him through Christ and creation, through my brothers and sisters.
Baptism, I discovered, doesn't make you holy, it sets in motion a wonderful, frightening journey towards the Kingdom of Heaven. Eventually, we all get there. How we get there is up to us and God and it begins with one step at a time, the first when we put a toe in the Jordan River.
Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord,
Ellen+
Actually, I'm not.
My baptism happened when I was eight years old on a warm August evening. For days I'd been pestering my mother about becoming Christian. All of my friends were Roman Catholic (the largest denomination in town) and I wanted to be part of that exclusive club. Not because everyone else was doing it, mind, but because from an early age, I felt it was necessary for me to be who I was.
Let me give you the back story: my parents were Roman Catholic on my mother's side and Lutheran on my father's. My parents were married in the middle of World War II in a civil ceremony. Because of this, we weren't baptised as children due to the prohibitions of the church in those days.
I pestered my mother with questions about God, religion, Jesus, Mary and Joseph - which is what she used to sigh when I posited yet another question: "If women can't do anything in the church like boys, why did Jesus see Mary first?" - "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Ellen! The questions you ask!"
I continued my quest for baptism until one night my mother had had enough of my questions and sent me to bed.
I climbed under the covers so my sister couldn't hear my sobbing. When it was quiet and I was sure everyone was asleep, I went to the bathroom and turned on the taps. Filling up a glass of water, I tossed it on my face saying, "Father, Son, Holy Spirit - you're baptised! Amen!"
That's not what my mother said when she came in and saw the water all over the bathmats and tiles.
I didn't mind the week of restriction for payment for audacity. I felt I had done the right thing.
My truly Christian baptism came 34 years later at the age of 42, at my home parish of St. Mark's Episcopal Church, at the Great Vigil. Here I was sealed and marked, and seared - the baptismal water was a tad warm and I was the first to be baptised that evening. The rector whispered to me, "It's a little warm," as she baptised me. I still have a mark on my forehead where the first drops of water landed. I consider it my outward and visible sign.
Why did it take me so long to be baptised?
I went through Roman Catholic catechism and I read the baptismal covenant. Frankly, I didn't think I could keep the promises I was being asked to make: "Will you proclaim by word and exaple the Goods of God in Christ?" Well, I figured, in order to do that, I'd have to be better than others - act better and live a better life than most. "Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?" For me, it was hard to find a loving Christ in fellow office workers, family members, even myself - and serving them!
For years I struggled with these questions, and then I realized that God doesn't want me to be perfect, just do God's perfect work. Christ said, "Be perfect as our Father is perfect." But what does that mean? God created our world! God is everywhere! How am I able to do that?
Creation is full of little mistakes and imperfections, just like me. God wants me to to strive for the holiness one can only have with a deep and committed relationship with Him through Christ and creation, through my brothers and sisters.
Baptism, I discovered, doesn't make you holy, it sets in motion a wonderful, frightening journey towards the Kingdom of Heaven. Eventually, we all get there. How we get there is up to us and God and it begins with one step at a time, the first when we put a toe in the Jordan River.
Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord,
Ellen+
12 January, 2008
An Epiphany
Christmas is behind the secular world for another 365 days, and fast another year comes before us. I work as a legal secretary for a law firm in the financial district of San Francisco and on Monday, we hit the ground running. Our clients were back in their offices and it was business as usual.
I had a hard time concentrating this week. I'd like to say that it was forgetting my medication three days out of five, but no, the images and words of Matthew's retelling of the visit of the Magi to the Christ Child played over and over in my thoughts. I imagined what it would have been like for all parties in this drama - the paranoid king Herod, the mysterious seers, wise men, kings, whatever they truly were, the amazed parents living in a cave or something like it during the census in Bethlehem.
Popular culture has the Magi arriving in Bethlehem within hours of Jesus' birth, when it reality, it was probably weeks, or months. I think Franco Zeffirelli's retelling of this event in his series "Jesus of Nazareth" showed it best: the journey following the star takes several weeks, months, and they finally arrive where Mary and Joseph are lodged. Mary and Joseph with Jesus are returning from a day in Bethlehem and who should be waiting on their doorstep are three impressive gentlemen with their retinues and camels.
Well, I don't know about you, but I'd be afraid, and a bit wary - okay, I'd be paranoid. Who are these people and why are they here, and why are they bringing my son these expensive gifts? Sure, the angel Gabriel told me that I was giving birth to a child who would save the world - but maybe I hadn't thought it out, understood what it really meant. As a mother of three, I can tell you the months of pregnancy can be distracting as one goes through every day life. Maybe I'd fall asleep every night, looking at the baby in my arms, glancing over at the expensive gifts and wondering . . . can I do this? Can I be the mother of Emmanuel? More importantly, can I let my son be Emmanuel, can I let go and watch him become someone extraordinary.
Can I stand by and watch him die?
These thoughts were in my mind, along with the paranoia of Herod, who was worried that someone was going to take his job; how could someone want to kill a child? And the Magi, these men with education and wealth who come to pay homage to a little boy swaddled and no doubt sleeping in his mother's arms. Looking at the baby, I wonder if the Magi smiled, and softened and let the infant grab a finger, made silly noises like all people do when they see babies.
What came out of these musings was a sense of hope and love.
The birth of a child comes from an act of love in most cases. Looking down at a newborn's face, counting fingers and toes and wondering if he or she has Dad's eyes and Mom's nose, a sense of hope surfaces. With every child born there is hope for the world, there is a wellspring of promise and goodness, another chance for humanity to get it right with God.
And that was my Epiphany this week. A new year; a new child. There is love and hope once again in the world, and it's up to us to keep that light shining.
Go in peace to love and serve the Lord!
Ellen+
I had a hard time concentrating this week. I'd like to say that it was forgetting my medication three days out of five, but no, the images and words of Matthew's retelling of the visit of the Magi to the Christ Child played over and over in my thoughts. I imagined what it would have been like for all parties in this drama - the paranoid king Herod, the mysterious seers, wise men, kings, whatever they truly were, the amazed parents living in a cave or something like it during the census in Bethlehem.
Popular culture has the Magi arriving in Bethlehem within hours of Jesus' birth, when it reality, it was probably weeks, or months. I think Franco Zeffirelli's retelling of this event in his series "Jesus of Nazareth" showed it best: the journey following the star takes several weeks, months, and they finally arrive where Mary and Joseph are lodged. Mary and Joseph with Jesus are returning from a day in Bethlehem and who should be waiting on their doorstep are three impressive gentlemen with their retinues and camels.
Well, I don't know about you, but I'd be afraid, and a bit wary - okay, I'd be paranoid. Who are these people and why are they here, and why are they bringing my son these expensive gifts? Sure, the angel Gabriel told me that I was giving birth to a child who would save the world - but maybe I hadn't thought it out, understood what it really meant. As a mother of three, I can tell you the months of pregnancy can be distracting as one goes through every day life. Maybe I'd fall asleep every night, looking at the baby in my arms, glancing over at the expensive gifts and wondering . . . can I do this? Can I be the mother of Emmanuel? More importantly, can I let my son be Emmanuel, can I let go and watch him become someone extraordinary.
Can I stand by and watch him die?
These thoughts were in my mind, along with the paranoia of Herod, who was worried that someone was going to take his job; how could someone want to kill a child? And the Magi, these men with education and wealth who come to pay homage to a little boy swaddled and no doubt sleeping in his mother's arms. Looking at the baby, I wonder if the Magi smiled, and softened and let the infant grab a finger, made silly noises like all people do when they see babies.
What came out of these musings was a sense of hope and love.
The birth of a child comes from an act of love in most cases. Looking down at a newborn's face, counting fingers and toes and wondering if he or she has Dad's eyes and Mom's nose, a sense of hope surfaces. With every child born there is hope for the world, there is a wellspring of promise and goodness, another chance for humanity to get it right with God.
And that was my Epiphany this week. A new year; a new child. There is love and hope once again in the world, and it's up to us to keep that light shining.
Go in peace to love and serve the Lord!
Ellen+
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