How can we be brave, brave, brave?

     Yesterday our country celebrated two momentous occasions - the 150th anniversary of the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation, and the inauguration of the President of the United States, Barak Obama. And it also happened to be the day we celebrate and remember Martin Luther King Jr.
     To commemorate, celebrate, and remember, I signed up for an anti-racism training titled, "Racial Justice in the 21st Century."  Through video presentations, skits, dramatic storytelling, and discussion, those of us gathered reflected on where we were, where we are, and where we can be when it comes to racial justice for all people.
     As the youngest person there, it was interesting to hear them talking about how racism took form 10, 20, and 30 years ago - the span of my life.  From my experience, racism isn't an issue many people of my generation talk about.  Maybe it's because our parents think we have solved the issue.  Maybe it's because racism hadn't been part of the social discourse until 2008 when a black man was running for president.  Maybe it's because my generation is tired of talking about -isms and we want less talk, more action.  Whatever the case, one of the conclusions the group came to yesterday was that overall, no matter the generation, our culture (and particularly the white culture) is unequipped and insufficiently informed to even begin a discussion about the issues of racism, white privilege, and oppression.  One of the most moving videos was a TED talk by human rights lawyer, Bryan Stevenson.  I have placed it below, and I encourage you to take 20 minutes and watch a moving commentary on the injustice in our country.
     With all this as background, I hear the text for this coming Sunday in a much different way. Our text comes from Luke 4, and is what happens right after Jesus has been in the wilderness for 40 days.  He attends synagogue, like the good Jewish man that he is, and when it is time for the readings he gets up, goes to the Jewish equivalent of a lectern, and begins the reading for the day from Isaiah 61:

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
    because he has anointed me
        to bring good news to the poor.
           He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
               and recovery of sight to the blind,
                  to let the oppressed to gree,
                    to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor.

     Thinking of our American history, and thinking of how many times we have enslaved and oppressed, these words from Jesus strike a sour note in my soul.  I am the product of a country who oppressed the native inhabitants of this land, and in the oppression nearly wiped them out.  I am the product of a country built on the backs of people stolen from their homes, carried across the sea, brutalized and beaten, and used until they were useless.  I am the product of a culture where white, rich, and male are the standard against which success is measured and anything outside of this is deemed 'less than.' 
     Can it be that Jesus spoke these words 2000 years ago?  And that before him they were spoken for 600 years?  Humanity has long struggled with oppression and injustice, something in the human make-up which causes us to put others down in order to make us feel better.  A human history of slavery and injustice is enough to make me want to give up.  It's always been that way and who am I to change it?
     Yet these are words spoken by Jesus, who came to fulfill all prophecies.  These are the words spoken by God incarnate, who was himself oppressed, beaten, and even killed.  These are the words of the one who shattered those chains of oppression and injustice by breaking free of the death that held him.  This is the Christ who proclaims

today these words have been fulfilled in your hearing

Christ has broken free.  He has broken me out of my own chains, and my own need for power over others.  He has broken me from the chains of self-doubt, guilt, and shame that can so easily turn into blame and injustice toward others.  

     Now that I am free, I can work toward helping Christ in his mission to free others.  I cannot change who I am.  I cannot change where I came from, or my past life experience.  I can change the future.  By consciously making an effort to see everyone as Christ sees them - as people dealing with their own chains of oppression - I can refrain from judging and binding them anymore.  By consciously knowing that I am part of a system that unjustly oppresses people based on skin color, sex, sexual orientation, physical/mental ability, socio-economic status, age, and Lord know how many other categories, I can choose to take a stand.  

     This is not easy.  Abraham Lincoln was shot for taking a stand.  So was Martin Luther King Jr.  Jesus was crucified.  So I leave wondering how, as Brian Stevenson said in his TED Talk, we can be brave, brave, brave?

    

Good wine, or bad?

     Wow!  What a party!  120-180 gallons of wine?  And good wine at that?  I'd be happy to attend a party like that anytime :)  That was the reaction of a few folks reading this text, anyway.  Our gospel for Sunday comes from John 2, and is the first recorded miracle of Jesus' ministry.  It is also one of the miracles recorded only in John, the first of the signs, and the author tells us that this sign was recorded

so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.  ~ John 20.31

     How does this story help you believe that Jesus is the Messiah?  How does believing this bring you life?  These are questions a group of us pondered this past Sunday morning, and the insights others shared brought a new clarity, a new way of looking at this text.  At least for me.
     One of the insights shared had to do with the wine.  We are the water, says one fellow, and Jesus transforms us into good wine to be shared with others.  The Holy Spirit, by virtue of our baptisms, comes in and changes us so that the world might know the goodness of God.
     Perhaps there is someone out there who, like Jesus' mother, sees that there is something wrong.  And perhaps, like Jesus' mother they ask Jesus to fix it.  (Although Jesus' mother didn't so much ask as rather demand her son do something.)  And so Jesus, albeit seemingly grudgingly, solves the problem. 
     Have you ever been Jesus' solution to a problem?  Has your life ever been the transformation that made the difference for another human being?  My guess is that, at some point or another, all of us have been vessels for Jesus' miracles, whether we know it or not.  We don't always know how God is working in and through us to share God's love.  Which tends to go right along with our story - it would seem that, at least at the time, the only ones who knew about Jesus' miracle were the servants who did what he told them to do. 
     Or, from another angle, perhaps you have been the one doing the asking, like Jesus' mother.  Maybe you have seen a problem and simply trusted that God would provide for your needs and fix it.  And, because of that faith, you were witness to a miracle.  God's transformative work made all the difference in your own life.
     Or, from yet another angle, you were like the bridegroom.  You maybe didn't even know you were out of wine.  Or maybe you did know but didn't think there was anything to be done about it.  And yet, unexpectedly, you were the blessed recipient of God's generous and abundant love.  Can you imagine the embarrassment of running out of wine at your own party?  And can you imagine the relief when someone comes to you and tells you that not only are you not out, but that the wine you are serving is the best and finest of wines?
     There are so many 'or' scenarios in this story.  The one scenario to which I find myself drawn over and over as I think on this text is the one in which I am the water.  Ok - perhaps this is my narcissism coming out here, that everything is always all about me, but  the part that really strikes me about the water being transformed into wine is that it is for the benefit of everyone else.
     How is my life being transformed for the benefit of others?  How are my words and actions pointing not to myself, but to the One who transforms?  In this season of Epiphany we continue to see how the identity and mission of Christ is revealed to the nations, and we see how we are part of that revelation.  So the one question I am left pondering today is, "Am I good wine or bad?"

Pleased? With me?

     So here we are, a week in to the start of the new year.  If you're a resolution maker, perhaps you are feeling really great about how your progress is going.  As for myself, well, resolutions are just too hard for me to keep and after years of making resolutions and failing, I quit.  So now I make goals.  The difference may just be in the semantics here, but for me it makes all the difference in the world.
     With a resolution, it felt like there was no room for mistakes.  You resolve to do something, therefore you simply do it.  If I resolve to eat more fruits and vegetables yet find myself tempted by those tasty treats on Sunday mornings, it feels as if my resolve is weak and it isn't even worth it anymore.  If I resolve to clean one room in the house per night, rather than waiting to clean the whole house on a Saturday, but find myself walking in the door at 9:00, getting some dinner, and hoping to catch my favorite show, it is 10:00 before I even think about cleaning - and at that point the bed is oh so much more appealing.  So my resolve is weak, my house is as messy as it was the day before, and I have failed my resolution.
     Now goals - goals are different.  If I make it a goal to eat more fruits and vegetables, there is wiggle room.  I can grow to increasingly eat more fruits and vegetables, and if there is a day where I get stuck at the goodie table, well my goal is still attainable and I haven't failed.  If I make it a goal to clean one room of my house each night, and I clean two rooms in one week, I am really making progress toward my goal!
     So when I read the gospel lesson for this coming Sunday, I am struck that we don't need resolutions OR goals.  Because, according to God, we are as we ought to be.  This Sunday we celebrate the baptism of Jesus, as told from Luke 3.  Oh, there is surely the part at the beginning of the reading about Jesus burning the chaff with unquenchable fire.  But, if you recall, it wasn't so many weeks ago that we had this reading during Advent.  We didn't have the benefit then of having it tied to Jesus' baptism, but rather was John the Baptist talking about right living: how tax collectors should make their living without exploiting anyone, how soldiers shouldn't abuse their power, how the wealthy ought not turn a blind eye to the poor.
     But when we hear the reading this time, on the baptism of Jesus, we have the benefit of knowing how John's sermon ends.  At the end of all the talk about being burned with the Spirit and fire, Jesus is baptized.  And the moment he comes out of the water, the Spirit descends on him and he is declared God's son, claimed and named by God as being loved and being right.

John Baptized Jesus

     As readers of this story, the imagery draws us in, to imagine ourselves on the bank of the Jordan River, standing there, dripping wet from our own baptisms, and then Jesus comes out of the water.  What started exactly the same as every other baptism suddenly turns different.  There is a strange sound, like the crack of thunder except it is a sunny afternoon.  And then there is something, shimmery, like a dove but not any dove you've ever seen, and it lands on Jesus.  You rub your eyes, thinking you must be seeing things when you hear this voice.  Not loud or booming, but almost a quiet whisper, as if the voice is speaking directly to your own soul, sharing the most intimate secret that only you and the voice know, "This is Jesus, my son.  I am pleased with him."
     And the beautiful thing?  These words aren't just for Jesus.  They are for all who hear.  "You are my child. I am pleased with you."  Now God doesn't speak these words after we've made and kept all of our resolutions.  God doesn't speak these words after we've attained all of our goals, made certain changes, or being a certain way.  God loves you.  God loves me.  Just the way we are. 
     Since most of us take stock of our lives at this time of year, I am especially grateful for the reminder of our baptisms and that God loves us.  Just the way we are.  And as I take stock of my own life, set my goals for the year, I can't help but seriously question: God is pleased?  With me?

Overwhelmed by joy?

     This coming Sunday is Epiphany - the celebration of the arrival of the Magi to worship and pay homage to the new King, baby Jesus.  Contrary to the Christmas Pageant version of the Christmas story, the Magi did not appear the night Jesus was born.  Contrary to all of our Nativity Scenes, the Magi never worshiped the infant Jesus alongside shepherds and cattle.  In fact, the Magi never even saw the stable.
     We read the account traditionally called 'The Wise Men' in Matthew 2.  Notice from reading the account that it never says there were only three - we always have three because they bring three gifts, but there could have been 2 or 100.  It also doesn't say they were 'men'.  Well, in the English it does, but the Greek word is magi, or astrologers and there could have been a woman among them.  At any rate, the Magi arrived and asked the reigning King Herod where the new King was. 
     I happen to be reading the Game of Thrones series right now, and based on how things work in the series, I'm guessing that asking a current king where the future king is, is a bad idea.  And, well, the very act of even asking about this new king strikes fear into the heart of King Herod and the whole of Jerusalem (v 3).  People know that with regime change comes turmoil, unrest, and wars.  And yet should they have been taken off guard by this question?  Even the heavens were shouting the Savior's birth, with a star rising for those with eyes to see.  Apparently Herod and all of Jerusalem weren't too concerned with the signs in the heavens. 
     Even more interesting than the fear of King Herod and all Jerusalem, however, is the journey of these wise men.  Some estimates say that they followed the star for up to two years.  (Which is why King Herod later orders the murder of all infant boys two years and younger in Bethlehem.)  What kept them following?  How did they know it was the star of the King of the Jews?  These are the first people to worship the infant Jesus in Matthew's gospel and they aren't even Jews themselves.  They are from the East, and it is likely they worship their own gods.  Yet they see the star and come.
    They leave home, family, work, and start on this journey.  Following a star to meet a king.  And, according to verse 10, they were 'overwhelmed with joy' when they saw the star had stopped.  In reading this text I am reminded of the scene from The Preacher's Wife where Whitney Houston sings of love and joy.  Wouldn't it be great if all the world could feel a joy like this?  To be overwhelmed with love and joy knowing that the light has come for all people?  That, like the magi who for so long followed and yearned for something finally found it?  When is the last time you were overwhelmed with joy?