I may be repeating myself, but I used to think that God chose the perfect people to represent him/her on Earth; the people who went to church on Sundays, always did good work, never swore, never had money troubles, never had relationship problems, always there with a green bean casserole in times of crisis. This week's scripture proves how wrong I was, and how each of us, in our own way, and according to our ability, is suited to proclaim the good news of the Kingdom of Heaven.
God chose David, a pretty shepherd boy with lovely eyes to lead Israel.
Jesus chose a man blind from birth to proclaim the good news.
In each of these stories, the norm of society is turned upside down. What we assume should be is not.
I imagine that the Temple authorities believed that one of their own, a boy born into a Pharisitical family of privilege and wealth, education in the Mosaic Law, would be the Messiah, never mind Isaiah's prophecies! This what their society knew to be management material. Instead, a man who is disabled, is cured by Jesus on the Sabbath and his insistent testimony, a testimony steeped in faith, leads Jesus to tell him that the man who healed him is the Messiah. It is Jesus.
David, with his beauty and lovely eyes, was a flawed man but a great king, a man of faith. He made some whoppers when it came to mistakes, but God loved him nevertheless, and David honored God with some of the most beautiful poetry imaginable, the Psalms.
God chooses the least likely of people to carry the message and proclaim the good news.
The good news for all of us imperfect people in the world is that it's okay not to have all the answers, to not drive the best and biggest SUV, to live in a toney neighborhood or carry pets as accessories. It's okay if we are who God calls us to be, and if we make mistakes, or are less than perfect. Our striving for perfect intention and perfect relationships are more important. If we strive every day to live out the Gospel, picking ourselves up and dusting ourselves off when we stumble, then perhaps we're that much closer to the perfect Jesus asks us to be. And how wonderful is that?
Go forth in the name of Christ.
With God's love and mine,
Ellen+
03 March, 2008
24 February, 2008
The Woman at the Well
Nowhere in the Gospels does Jesus have an extended conversation with a woman except in the Gospel according to John and it is a powerful conversation at that. It is bold, unexpected, and is an illustration of the Kingdom of Heaven where all are equal, man and woman, Samaritan and Jew.
The story opens with Jesus stopping to rest at Jacob's Well near Sychar. He's tired and the Apostles have gone into town to find something to eat. A Samaritan woman comes to the well to draw water. As she goes about her business, Jesus says, "Give me a drink." The woman is astounded for multiple reasons - first, a man speaks to her, second, he is a Jew and she is a Samaritan and they are adversaries going back centuries. One can only imagine what the woman is thinking. A strange man sits by the well and says he's thirsty, yet he has no bowl, cup or bucket. She is bold enough to question Jesus, and he responds to her inquiries with the statement that if she knew of the water he was speaking of, she'd ask for it - and she does. Their conversation grows bolder, more meaningful and at one point Jesus admits to being the Messiah. The story continues with her running into town to tell the news that a man who knew everything about her was at the well - and he was the messiah.
Sometimes I feel like the Samaritan woman. I go about my business, I live on the perimeter of what we consider the norm of society, and sometimes these wonderful insights into life hit me, like a wave on a beach or a gust of morning wind. I want to run and tell everyone I know what I've learned, what I'm feeling, to invite others to experience for myself what I have experienced. I want them to drink from living water.
What I take from this Gospel, and I hope you as well, is that we are all part of the great cosmic scheme -- Jesus chooses to reveal himself to the least likely of people in his society: an outsider and a woman. It doesn't happen within the precincts of the Temple within the Holy of Holies, but at a well on a blistering hot afternoon when a Samaritan woman who has been married several times and is living with a man outside the norm of society comes up to the well to draw water. Jesus asks, "Give me a drink."
I cry, "Jesus, give me some of that living water!"
Go forth in the name of Christ!
With God's love and mine,
Ellen+
The story opens with Jesus stopping to rest at Jacob's Well near Sychar. He's tired and the Apostles have gone into town to find something to eat. A Samaritan woman comes to the well to draw water. As she goes about her business, Jesus says, "Give me a drink." The woman is astounded for multiple reasons - first, a man speaks to her, second, he is a Jew and she is a Samaritan and they are adversaries going back centuries. One can only imagine what the woman is thinking. A strange man sits by the well and says he's thirsty, yet he has no bowl, cup or bucket. She is bold enough to question Jesus, and he responds to her inquiries with the statement that if she knew of the water he was speaking of, she'd ask for it - and she does. Their conversation grows bolder, more meaningful and at one point Jesus admits to being the Messiah. The story continues with her running into town to tell the news that a man who knew everything about her was at the well - and he was the messiah.
Sometimes I feel like the Samaritan woman. I go about my business, I live on the perimeter of what we consider the norm of society, and sometimes these wonderful insights into life hit me, like a wave on a beach or a gust of morning wind. I want to run and tell everyone I know what I've learned, what I'm feeling, to invite others to experience for myself what I have experienced. I want them to drink from living water.
What I take from this Gospel, and I hope you as well, is that we are all part of the great cosmic scheme -- Jesus chooses to reveal himself to the least likely of people in his society: an outsider and a woman. It doesn't happen within the precincts of the Temple within the Holy of Holies, but at a well on a blistering hot afternoon when a Samaritan woman who has been married several times and is living with a man outside the norm of society comes up to the well to draw water. Jesus asks, "Give me a drink."
I cry, "Jesus, give me some of that living water!"
Go forth in the name of Christ!
With God's love and mine,
Ellen+
17 February, 2008
Let it Be
I have a number of favorite heroes and heroines from scripture, just as I’m sure some or all of you may have. In the Hebrew scripture, I count Elijah, Ruth, Deborah, Jael, and Daniel. In the Christian scripture, there’s Peter, Mary -- all of the Maries -- including Magdalene, Stephen, our sister Phoebe, a deacon, and of course, Jesus – and Nicodemus. Nicodemus shows us that sometimes discussion is inadequate in experiencing the understanding God. Sometimes, you have to just let it, to get it -- and by that I mean one needs to let God take over, let these inspired and inspiring words sink in. You have to shut up, open your heart and mind, and let the beauty and mystery of God’s love happen to get what’s going on. And how wonderful and inspiring this Gospel of John is! It stands apart from the Synoptics, for its advanced Christology, its mystery, its allusions to water, life and light; and as we’ve heard in the scripture passage this morning, Nicodemus goes to Jesus under the cloak of darkness and ultimately comes to the light.
When Nicodemus meets Jesus, perhaps you get a sense, as I do, that things are changing for him. The location of this meeting isn’t mentioned, but given that Jesus has upset the local authorities and the local economy by chasing the merchants and money changers, the cattle, doves and sheep out of the Temple right before this visit, it is somewhere in Jerusalem. Perhaps Nicodemus was a witness to Jesus’ protest, or had seen and heard him elsewhere in the city. Perhaps he was present when the Temple authorities decided that Jesus had crossed the line, was a threat and must die. Whatever the circumstance, the teaching he’s witnessed and his station in society compels him to go to Jesus. Nicodemus comes in secret during the night so as not to be seen. And he’s a man in the dark.
You have to feel for him: he approaches Jesus wanting answers, and no doubt risks his life in doing so because he’s a Pharisee, he’s a man of reputation and Jesus is still an unknown, a Galilean rabbi who’s cause a bit of trouble. Nicodemus addresses Jesus with respect – rabbi – a little one on one rapport - and receives puzzling responses. Is Jesus being deliberately rude? I don’t think so. Jesus is responding in a way that initiates an intimate dialogue – he answers questions with questions of his own, questions that provoke deeper thought, prayerful consideration. Questions that sometimes reveal innocence or naivety. We don’t get the answer we expect, but we get word play: wind and spirit, the lifting up of Jesus – up on the cross and then into heaven – and the curious statement from Jesus that you can’t enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit, that you must be born from above. Is it any wonder that Nicodemus goes away dazed and confused, takes these statements literally? He doesn’t have the filter of two thousand years and countless commentaries and critiques to ‘get it.’ He either doesn’t understand, or chooses not to. I think it’s the first, for he’ll later defend Jesus at his trial and offer costly spices for his burial. At some point, the light glows brightly for him and he understands.
This is a bit more than my experience. I can relate to Nicodemus, whom I like to call the patron saint of the clueless; I count myself among those lucky few. Aren’t there times when you find yourself stumbling in the dark, looking for the light? When you’re so confounded that all you can do is just scratch your head and nod, pretending to get it? Don’t we have all the answers? Not on your life. Aren’t there moments when you do come to an understanding, you cry, “Ohhhhh! So that’s what he meant!”
And maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
Sometimes we have to step back and just live in the awe. We can be like Nicodemus and walk away, dazed and confused, with answers that answer nothing, but there’s beauty in that. As we grope in darkness, we find ourselves dependent on a God that comes to us and connects us, giving us a bridge to salvation and eternal life.
How can this be, Nicodemus asks?
It can be because God makes it so.
It is not that we are expected to undergo a physical renaissance, but that we undergo a transformation within, a spiritual rebirth, which is more meaningful, more powerful.
And if we step back and take it all in, we can let it be.
Eventually, we’ll get it.
Go forth in the name of Christ.
Ellen+
When Nicodemus meets Jesus, perhaps you get a sense, as I do, that things are changing for him. The location of this meeting isn’t mentioned, but given that Jesus has upset the local authorities and the local economy by chasing the merchants and money changers, the cattle, doves and sheep out of the Temple right before this visit, it is somewhere in Jerusalem. Perhaps Nicodemus was a witness to Jesus’ protest, or had seen and heard him elsewhere in the city. Perhaps he was present when the Temple authorities decided that Jesus had crossed the line, was a threat and must die. Whatever the circumstance, the teaching he’s witnessed and his station in society compels him to go to Jesus. Nicodemus comes in secret during the night so as not to be seen. And he’s a man in the dark.
You have to feel for him: he approaches Jesus wanting answers, and no doubt risks his life in doing so because he’s a Pharisee, he’s a man of reputation and Jesus is still an unknown, a Galilean rabbi who’s cause a bit of trouble. Nicodemus addresses Jesus with respect – rabbi – a little one on one rapport - and receives puzzling responses. Is Jesus being deliberately rude? I don’t think so. Jesus is responding in a way that initiates an intimate dialogue – he answers questions with questions of his own, questions that provoke deeper thought, prayerful consideration. Questions that sometimes reveal innocence or naivety. We don’t get the answer we expect, but we get word play: wind and spirit, the lifting up of Jesus – up on the cross and then into heaven – and the curious statement from Jesus that you can’t enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit, that you must be born from above. Is it any wonder that Nicodemus goes away dazed and confused, takes these statements literally? He doesn’t have the filter of two thousand years and countless commentaries and critiques to ‘get it.’ He either doesn’t understand, or chooses not to. I think it’s the first, for he’ll later defend Jesus at his trial and offer costly spices for his burial. At some point, the light glows brightly for him and he understands.
This is a bit more than my experience. I can relate to Nicodemus, whom I like to call the patron saint of the clueless; I count myself among those lucky few. Aren’t there times when you find yourself stumbling in the dark, looking for the light? When you’re so confounded that all you can do is just scratch your head and nod, pretending to get it? Don’t we have all the answers? Not on your life. Aren’t there moments when you do come to an understanding, you cry, “Ohhhhh! So that’s what he meant!”
And maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be.
Sometimes we have to step back and just live in the awe. We can be like Nicodemus and walk away, dazed and confused, with answers that answer nothing, but there’s beauty in that. As we grope in darkness, we find ourselves dependent on a God that comes to us and connects us, giving us a bridge to salvation and eternal life.
How can this be, Nicodemus asks?
It can be because God makes it so.
It is not that we are expected to undergo a physical renaissance, but that we undergo a transformation within, a spiritual rebirth, which is more meaningful, more powerful.
And if we step back and take it all in, we can let it be.
Eventually, we’ll get it.
Go forth in the name of Christ.
Ellen+
10 February, 2008
Into the Wilderness
The stark narrative that is Mark’s gospel tells of the baptism of Christ and his preparation for, and beginning of, his ministry; this narrative reminds Christians to set time apart to be alone and quiet with God, to prepare ourselves for ministry and be ready for challenges.
If you want richness and drama, exciting dialogue, details filled in, like that found in the narratives of Matthew and Luke, you won’t find it in this Gospel. Mark only gives us the minimalist version of Jesus’ story. Today we have the beginning. We hear how Jesus came to John and was baptized; at the moment he rises out of the water, the heavens are ripped apart, the Spirit descends and God speaks. Then the Spirit drives him immediately into the wilderness with the wild beasts and angels to see to his needs.
Our wilderness and our wild beasts may be many things – we have so much to choose from nowadays. It’s a long list, and I’m sure you know what I’m talking about: beginning with stress at home and down the list to war.
But it’s not time to crawl under a rock.
We have an example to show us how to cope and how to garner strength and faith, and it is in God, working through Jesus.
Right after his baptism, Jesus was tested rigorously – he did not immediately begin his ministry, but was immediately driven into the wilderness. One might suppose that the wilderness is not an idyllic woodland, but an arid, stark landscape, apart from society and all comforts. Mark says that Jesus was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan. But wait a moment - didn’t the voice from heaven just say “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased?” Why would the Son of God need to go through all that? It’s a puzzling contradiction, but necessary, because it shows that Jesus is truly human and his conflict with Satan, as Williamson states, “is the ordeal which validates the man Jesus as bearer of God’s banner throughout the coming battle.”[1]
Could it be that his baptism was a commissioning of his ministry and his trials a strengthening, hardening experience?
Here’s another thought, another thread to connect it all: baptism, preparation and identity link Jesus to us. Just as he began his ministry with baptism and preparation, so do we. Jesus’ baptism does not set him apart from us, he is one of us. He is the beloved Son, and we are the beloved Children of God. Christians past, present and future have these commonalities, no matter what is in store for each of us in our spiritual journeys. It is this deacon's personal opinion that a Jesus who experiences the joys and sorrow of life, is put through trials, is a Jesus that is accessible, making God even more accessible.
Throughout history, humanity has been tested, often in the wilderness, and often it has failed, but it came out with a deeper, more meaningful spirituality, and that is what I strive for, and maybe you do, and we hope to pass our trials as Jesus did.
I invite you to take some time out of your hectic lives, go to the wilderness, the desolate place that is uniquely yours and seek out God, find moments with the Lord and empty your heart and soul. Let the Spirit enter the void, fill you with the love of Christ. I invite you to wrestle with your wild beasts and demons, whatever they may be, and know that angels will patiently and lovingly attend you. When you emerge, I hope and pray that you will be restored, and we all have new strength and a sense of commitment to whatever ministry we are called, so that together we may bear witness to the good news and proclaim that the Kingdom of God is here and now.
Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord!
Ellen+
[1] Lamar Williamson, Jr., Interpretation – Mark, John Knox Press, Louisville, 1983
If you want richness and drama, exciting dialogue, details filled in, like that found in the narratives of Matthew and Luke, you won’t find it in this Gospel. Mark only gives us the minimalist version of Jesus’ story. Today we have the beginning. We hear how Jesus came to John and was baptized; at the moment he rises out of the water, the heavens are ripped apart, the Spirit descends and God speaks. Then the Spirit drives him immediately into the wilderness with the wild beasts and angels to see to his needs.
Our wilderness and our wild beasts may be many things – we have so much to choose from nowadays. It’s a long list, and I’m sure you know what I’m talking about: beginning with stress at home and down the list to war.
But it’s not time to crawl under a rock.
We have an example to show us how to cope and how to garner strength and faith, and it is in God, working through Jesus.
Right after his baptism, Jesus was tested rigorously – he did not immediately begin his ministry, but was immediately driven into the wilderness. One might suppose that the wilderness is not an idyllic woodland, but an arid, stark landscape, apart from society and all comforts. Mark says that Jesus was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan. But wait a moment - didn’t the voice from heaven just say “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased?” Why would the Son of God need to go through all that? It’s a puzzling contradiction, but necessary, because it shows that Jesus is truly human and his conflict with Satan, as Williamson states, “is the ordeal which validates the man Jesus as bearer of God’s banner throughout the coming battle.”[1]
Could it be that his baptism was a commissioning of his ministry and his trials a strengthening, hardening experience?
Here’s another thought, another thread to connect it all: baptism, preparation and identity link Jesus to us. Just as he began his ministry with baptism and preparation, so do we. Jesus’ baptism does not set him apart from us, he is one of us. He is the beloved Son, and we are the beloved Children of God. Christians past, present and future have these commonalities, no matter what is in store for each of us in our spiritual journeys. It is this deacon's personal opinion that a Jesus who experiences the joys and sorrow of life, is put through trials, is a Jesus that is accessible, making God even more accessible.
Throughout history, humanity has been tested, often in the wilderness, and often it has failed, but it came out with a deeper, more meaningful spirituality, and that is what I strive for, and maybe you do, and we hope to pass our trials as Jesus did.
I invite you to take some time out of your hectic lives, go to the wilderness, the desolate place that is uniquely yours and seek out God, find moments with the Lord and empty your heart and soul. Let the Spirit enter the void, fill you with the love of Christ. I invite you to wrestle with your wild beasts and demons, whatever they may be, and know that angels will patiently and lovingly attend you. When you emerge, I hope and pray that you will be restored, and we all have new strength and a sense of commitment to whatever ministry we are called, so that together we may bear witness to the good news and proclaim that the Kingdom of God is here and now.
Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord!
Ellen+
[1] Lamar Williamson, Jr., Interpretation – Mark, John Knox Press, Louisville, 1983
27 January, 2008
One of my earliest memories of evangelism was my brother's Vacation Bible School pageant. I don't remember how old we were, but I remember my brother wearing a paper sailor's cap like those we made out of newspaper and holding a fishing rod while singing, "I will make you fishers of men, fishers of men, fishers of men, I will make you fishers of men if you follow me . . ."
What did that mean? I will make you fishers of men?
In the version of the Christian Scripture used today, the clever invitation from Jesus is now "come, I will make you fish for people." It doesn't have the same humor to my mind, but it's message is the same. Jesus has arrived at Capernaum and is watching the local fishermen pull in their nets, trim the sails, whatever fishermen did, and he invites them to drop their nets and come with him to start a ministry of proclaiming the kingdom of Heaven and pull in those people who hear the message and are drawn to it, building a new community with the Good News.
Peter, Andrew, James and John, dropped everything, gave up their familiar, work-a-day lives to become disciples of this young rabbi from Nazareth called Jesus bar Joseph when he stopped by the lake and called to them.
I don't know if I would have had the strength to do something so brave or monumental. In all honesty, I would have said, "Yeah, but first let me finish typing this." or made any number of excuses to delay the departure.
I also don't know if Jesus would have waited in the front room for me to finish whatever it was I thought was so important that it couldn't wait until I returned.
What I do know is that Jesus offers the invitation to me, just as he offers the same to you every day. I think sometimes we're just too wrapped up in life to hear His voice. But think of the new possibilities and challenges, new lives through Christ, when we drop the nets and come along.
And what is this new life? It is life made complete by the love God gives us through Christ.
That love is offered freely and is sustaining; we are guided and supported by love - from the Trinity and from one another.
Come follow me, Jesus invites. Drop the phone, drop the remote control, shut down the laptop, put down the Sudoku puzzle. That's what Jesus is saying to us now. Put aside the concerns and stresses of life and come to me and I will show you there's a better way to live.
Now excuse me while I'll log off . . . .
Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord!
Ellen+
What did that mean? I will make you fishers of men?
In the version of the Christian Scripture used today, the clever invitation from Jesus is now "come, I will make you fish for people." It doesn't have the same humor to my mind, but it's message is the same. Jesus has arrived at Capernaum and is watching the local fishermen pull in their nets, trim the sails, whatever fishermen did, and he invites them to drop their nets and come with him to start a ministry of proclaiming the kingdom of Heaven and pull in those people who hear the message and are drawn to it, building a new community with the Good News.
Peter, Andrew, James and John, dropped everything, gave up their familiar, work-a-day lives to become disciples of this young rabbi from Nazareth called Jesus bar Joseph when he stopped by the lake and called to them.
I don't know if I would have had the strength to do something so brave or monumental. In all honesty, I would have said, "Yeah, but first let me finish typing this." or made any number of excuses to delay the departure.
I also don't know if Jesus would have waited in the front room for me to finish whatever it was I thought was so important that it couldn't wait until I returned.
What I do know is that Jesus offers the invitation to me, just as he offers the same to you every day. I think sometimes we're just too wrapped up in life to hear His voice. But think of the new possibilities and challenges, new lives through Christ, when we drop the nets and come along.
And what is this new life? It is life made complete by the love God gives us through Christ.
That love is offered freely and is sustaining; we are guided and supported by love - from the Trinity and from one another.
Come follow me, Jesus invites. Drop the phone, drop the remote control, shut down the laptop, put down the Sudoku puzzle. That's what Jesus is saying to us now. Put aside the concerns and stresses of life and come to me and I will show you there's a better way to live.
Now excuse me while I'll log off . . . .
Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord!
Ellen+
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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