Baptized With Water

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Baptism of the Lord, Chris Anderson, Light When It Comes, listen, psalm 29, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, voice of the Lord, water

I was blessed in my youth to live in Massachusetts, only 40 miles from the ocean beach where my family vacationed for a week each summer. My father used to say that if he had to work all year to have that one week at the beach, it would be worth it, and so it was. Those years left an indelible mark on my soul; just standing at the edge of that vast Atlantic seashore was—and is—a powerful experience. It is not as frequent an experience for me now, although I still live within a six-hour drive from the beach. Each time I have the privilege of return I hope for big waves so that I might see if I can withstand their power and remain upright as I meet them face to face. As well, I long for a moment of calm when, standing waist high in the water, I plunge in a surface dive as deep as I can and then let go to wherever the dive takes me. I belong then to the water, the waves, for a moment of surrender.

Today Christians celebrate the liturgy of the Baptism of the Lord. One commentator notes that Jesus didn’t need to be baptized, but allowed it to “recharge with his love and his light all rivers and all waters and all places and peoples forevermore.” I liked that thought (Chris Anderson, Light When It Comes). It reminded me of how my dives in the ocean cleanse me. Sometimes, however, as I sit in Church or elsewhere considering the ritual that celebrates the sacrament, I wish for more. I want someone to shout: The voice of the Lord is over the waters, the Lord over vast waters. The voice of the Lord is mighty; the voice of the Lord is majestic! (PS 29) I want to hear that voice, the voice of the Father thundering: “THIS IS MY BELOVED SON, LISTEN TO HIM.“

God In All Things

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blessings, drink, eternal life, fire, flame, God, love, Nikos Kazantzakis, spiritual growth, St. Francis of Assisi, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, water

Today in churches and schools far and wide there will be infrequent guests lining up for blessings. It is the feast of St. Francis, of course, who loved all of creation but chose to possess nothing in order that he could be totally dependent on God. My favorite story about Francis may not be factual and it is not the one of the sweet stories of his relationship with the birds and the beasts (although those are also compelling). It comes from a novel by Nikos Kazantzakis entitled  simply Saint Francis, in which the narrator, Brother Leo, says something like the following:

Once I asked him, “Brother Francis, how does God reveal himself to you when you are alone in the night?” He answered, “Like a glass of cool water,” Brother Leo. “God is like a glass of water?” I asked. “Why, yes,” he replied. “We take and drink it and we are satisfied unto eternal life.” But some years later, when he was simply a lump of skin and bones, Brother Francis called me to him and whispered: “God is a conflagration, Brother Leo. He burns and we burn with him!”

I know there are a few incorrect words in that telling of the story but I have to go searching for my copy of the book to be more precise. The point is made, however, if we consider the process of spiritual growth in Francis as he struggled to do everything for God and to spread the message of God’s all-consuming love with all those he encountered.

Fire is a mighty image for that love: beautiful – for those of us who wish to sit by a fireplace and watch wood flicker into life and then burn uproariously with energy and color – but totally consuming if we consider the result for the wood. That was the fire that ignited Francis to become all flame and calls to us, perhaps, to that same willingness, that unstinting love.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Good Help

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God's law, gratitude, healing, ignore, Jesus, John, pool, righteous, Sabbath, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, tireless people, unnecessary, water

This morning’s gospel left me with many possible avenues of exploration. It’s the familiar healing by Jesus of the man at the pool of Bethesda who had been ill for 38 years but had no one to put him into the pool for healing when the healing waters were stirred. (JN 5:1-16) I first think (and thus have commented about) how impossible it sounds that he was lying around for 38 years and nobody lifted him into the pool. Secondly, it gives me pause to think about that scene and how the whole thing worked: how large the pool was, how and how often the waters were “stirred”, how big a crowd was there waiting (I think of the processions in the grotto at Lourdes with massive crowds) and finally how intent everyone must have been on their own invalid so that everyone ignored this man. So many considerations with little information to help me conceive of his predicament…

Today, however, I was caught by the end of the text after the healing where the man was berated for carrying his mat on the Sabbath as that was against the law. That sounds almost as ridiculous as the difficulty he had finding help! (I don’t mean to denigrate any precept of the Mosaic law; I remember when in my youth we were to do “no unnecessary servile work” on Sunday.) And in the end, when those “righteous” people found Jesus, they began to persecute him “because he did this (healing work) on the Sabbath.”

I have always heard that God’s law is higher than human law so in cases of doubt, it’s always better to look to God. And the word “unnecessary” in the creed of my youth eliminated a lot of concern in that way. So the final strain of my thought process this morning was about doctors and nurses and other hospital workers whose week is generally not like that of other people. Often they have rotating schedules – off one weekend and on the next. Sometimes they are called in for an emergency at any hour of the day or night. First responders are in the same category. What would happen if the hospitals and urgent care clinics and fire houses were closed on the weekends?

Today, I will pray for people who have no one to care for them and will bow in gratitude for those tireless people who serve in professions where their willingness heals our ills and can sometimes save our lives.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Welcome Refreshment

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attentive, Earth, God's gift, home, joy, nature, planet, rain, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, thirst, water

Today there is a different sound outside my open window, one I don’t remember hearing since the leafing out of the trees was complete in the spring. It’s raining, a steady drenching rain that makes itself known in the sound of its passing through those leaves on its way to ground. Oh, we’ve had showers and the occasional rumbling of thunder with five minute sprinkles but this is different; this is like a long drink of cold water on a hot day. The birds are silent, most likely hunkered down like all of us humans trying to stay dry, but the farmers must be – no doubt – dancing with joy. I’m happy for the farmers and the animals and the tasseling corn. I’m happy for people everywhere who are thirsty and whose water has not been polluted by design or by neglect.

The psalmist wrote that the earth is the Lord’s and the fullness thereof. Some of us seem to have forgotten this truth along the way and need to repent our disregard by becoming more attentive. All of us ought to be mindful of the earth in a way that guarantees a long life for her and all who dwell here. I find today a good day to strengthen my resolve to pay attention as I can’t really ignore the fact that it’s raining. How will you become aware of the amazing gift of God that is our planet, our home?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Many Rivers, One Ocean

Tags

conciousness, contain, Cynthia Bourgeault, love, religions, spiritual traditions, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, water

Thought for the day:

Last evening as Cynthia Bourgeault was reflecting on non-dual/unitive consciousness, she used the image of water as a prompt. “Water is water”, she said. A “mass noun,” I replied silently, (as opposed to a “count noun” that can be separated into parts). If we put water into differently colored containers, it looks like the water inside is itself colored. We need containers to help us understand things sometimes but need also to comprehend that the substance in the container is not the same as the container. So it is with religions or spiritual traditions. They present themselves differently, with rules, rituals and practices that often differ. If we delve deeply, however, we find at the heart a love that cannot be contained. Today I will reflect on this thought as I experience the people I am with, here in Maine, from different places and different faith practices. If the past few days are any indicator, I will find that the love flowing so beautifully among us is akin to the ocean at our doorstep, reminding us that the flow is the crux of all that is here for us – each of us and all of us together – in a palpable vibration of love.

Good Vibrations

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arise, body awareness, energy, Finger Lakes, healing, Jesus, Mark, ocean, power, Sea of Galilee, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, water

There’s something engaging about bodies of water. Vacations during my childhood were spent at the beach by the Atlantic Ocean – the most delightful week of the year. As an adult living in upstate New York, I have come to appreciate lakes; it took awhile for someone used to the expanse of the ocean with the smell, taste and buoyancy of salt. Now I cherish the loveliness and calm of “the Finger Lakes” so named because from the sky they actually look like fingers of a human hand. The energies are different: the ocean majestic, inspiring awe, and the lakes a call to reflection and peace.

When Jesus made one of his many (it seems) crossings of the Sea of Galilee and encountered a crowd on the other side, Mark says he stayed close to the sea. I had never noticed that line before and it made me think he was drawing energy from the water. Maybe he was just assuring a quick exit in case the crowd got too close or if he said something that was too inflammatory, but I’d rather think he was preparing for the two healings that frame the rest of the reading (MK 5:21-43). Both of these incidents lead to considerations of physical well-being. After he healed the daughter of Jairus with a touch of her hand and a word (Talitha koum = Little girl, arise) he told the family to give her something to eat, something that would restore her body to wellness. The other healing – of the woman with the 12-year hemorrhaging distress – was felt both in her body and by Jesus as she touched his cloak. He knew that “power had gone out from him” while she “felt in her body that she was healed of her affliction.” That energy exchange could have been a private moment between the two of them but Jesus wanted to make the point that her faith was part of the equation as well as his touch. Nevertheless, this entire text reminds me that body awareness is a necessary third to mind and spirit. My body can give me messages that alert me to danger, to excessive fatigue, to impending joy with the appearance of a loved one…Awareness of my breath can calm anxiety, allow me to climb a flight of stairs or move to deep meditation…

Today I will give thanks for my body, with all its gifts and limitations, as well as for the energy that fuels it and allows me to welcome energy coming my way for good.

The Baptized Life

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baptism, beloved, Episcopal, immersion, initiation, Jesus, John the Baptist, liturgy, Mass, name, Roman Catholic, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, water, worthy of the name

Although I have been present for many celebrations of the sacrament of Baptism I have no memory of my own. That’s not unusual in the Roman Catholic Church, since like many of us, I was baptized when I was three weeks old. As was tradition then, it was my aunt Millie and my uncle Dan who witnessed that significant moment and I grew up knowing that, as my godparents, they would be responsible for raising me “in the faith” should my parents die or not be able to do so. I can’t remember any specific conversations with either of them about that duty; I just knew I had a safety net for my spiritual life if it became necessary. (Happily my parents were quite good examples of loving, faithful Christians who lived their faith all the days of their long lives.)

Today we have come to understand that baptism is a significant event not only for the family of the one being baptized but for the entire church congregation as well. There are classes for parents and godparents – often before the baby is born – to help them understand the seriousness of what “initiation into the Christian community” means. On the day of the ceremony many parishes welcome the families at the door of the church before the service begins and have them march in procession with the priest and other ministering participants in the Mass. The baptism ceremony takes place not in private but in the middle of the liturgy and all present are called to pledge their support to the new member. Over the last 25 years, adult converts to the Church are celebrated in the same manner. In his Episcopal congregation, my friend, Father Bill, always wrote a letter to the child being baptized to be kept by the parents to be read when the child was able to understand the love that was present in the baptism ceremony and the support that would be available from the congregation for his/her entire life.

The dictionary definition of baptism includes sprinkling or immersion with water to symbolize purification or regeneration as well as initiation into the Christian church, often accompanied by name-giving. I must admit that sometimes it got tedious to grow up being called Lois Lane and asked the whereabouts of Superman, but eventually I “grew into” my name and have come to understand that each of us is called by name in God’s family and as such we respond in our own unique way to God’s plan for our life. When someone we love addresses us by name it has a particular sound, doesn’t it? It’s a wonderful thing to know we are cherished simply by that sound.

Today our Church celebrates the feast of the Baptism of the Lord by John when God’s voice is heard from a cloud saying, “This is my son, my beloved, in whom I am well-pleased.” Whatever our faith commitment or practice, might we listen for those words in our own life, (e.g. This is my daughter, my beloved Lois, in whom I am well-pleased.) and renew our resolve to live in a way worthy of the name by which we are called?