“Faith is Not A “Get Out of Jail Free” Card”

            You might think that right now we are experiencing or should be experiencing a mountain-top experience. We made it through those long weeks of Advent and growing winter darkness and shortening days, and then, at last, Christ is born, and angels sing, and shepherds glory, and magi come from afar to worship and bring gifts.

            And for Mark, the evangelist whose gospel has no birth narrative, we have that awesome moment when Jesus learns his identity and mission, his baptism by John in the river Jordan. (Mark 1:9-15)

            And so, now what?

            Will Willimon tells of the pastor whose little daughter was playing alone in her room. When he checked in on her, he heard the toilet flushing repeatedly in her bathroom. Drawing closer he heard her repeating the words, each times she flushed, “I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and down the hole you go.” Seems she was a bit confused about baptism “in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.”

            Or maybe not.

            Because here is Jesus at what should have been, what must have been, a pinnacle experience, rising from the water, the Spirit descending upon him as if a dove, the voice of his heavenly Father ringing in his ears, proclaiming his love and pleasure. And then, down the hole he goes.

            Immediately that same Spirit, the one descending moments ago like a dove, now like a screaming eagle drives Jesus out into the wilderness, where he will be tempted for forty days. Just as the Israelites, having escaped from Pharaoh’s Egypt, endured forty years of temptation in the wilderness, so too Jesus endures a period when he must wrestle with what he will do with his life, how he will exercise the powers attendant to the special relationship he has been gifted with.

            And it gets no better after that wilderness testing, for Jesus emerges to be greeted by the news that John has been arrested, and in a few short chapters will have his head served up on a platter to Herod. And not too long after that, Jesus will once again find himself tested, this time in a garden after the Passover meal, and then writhing in agony on a cross while onlookers mock him.

            Down the hole he goes.

            The Christian faith is often presented to folk as the solution to all their problems. A “Get out of Jail Free” card to life’s troubles. Having trouble finding a purpose for your life? We can help you with that, got a book and a few lesson plans that should do the trick. Kids acting up? We can help you with that, just bring them to Sunday School and youth group. Got an addiction you want to beat? Take a few steps up into the Meetinghouse. Financially insecure? Some churches will say we got you covered there as well. A National Football League quarterback with few conventional quarterbacking skills, but a devoted follower of Jesus Christ his personal Lord and Savior? Yeah, according to many of his fans, he’s covered there.

            But to be fair to Tim Tebow, the Bronco who wears eye-black patches under his eyes reading “John 3:16”, who kneels for a moment of prayer after victories and big plays, he has yet to say, as do some of his fans, that God is on his side when it comes to the outcome of football games.  I think he knows that his faith does not exempt him from the challenges of professional football, will not prevent his being sacked, will not mean that he will never fumble or throw an interception, will not stave off the bone-jarring hits that are part and parcel of life for a professional athlete.

            It is, sadly, the same for us. Baptized into the faith and family of Jesus Christ, far from being handed that “Get out of Jail Free” card, down the hole we go. We rise from the waters of baptism, dead to the old life, ready for a new life in Jesus Christ, and find that if we really do what we profess, if we really try to follow in the footsteps on the one in whose name we are baptized, that new life might look a whole lot different than we had expected.

            Because we remember that Jesus told us that he came not to be served, but to serve. And so if we are to walk with him, we will be serving as well. And we remember that Jesus told his followers it was about a new community, which means that we have to deal with everyone else who somehow got into this place called “church.” And we remember how he told his follows, after he set his face towards Jerusalem, as he readied himself for the last leg of his journey, a journey that would take him to arrest, and torture, and death, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up the cross and follow me.”

            Because we remember that Jesus, far from exalting himself and aiming for the skies, humbled himself, even to the extent of taking on lowly human form and vulnerability and suffering. And so if we are to imitate him, those mountaintop experiences will be few and far between, and mostly we will find ourselves down in some valley ladling soup in a homeless shelter, or hammering nails on a Habitat for Humanity build or a New Orleans Katrina restoration project, or standing in the cold outside of the halls of power holding a sign urging justice for all and care for the poor, or wiping the nose of a crying baby in the crib/toddler room on a  Sunday morning, or out on a balcony in Memphis in the crosshairs of a rifle, or yes, even doing the unglamorous task of writing out a check each week to help enable ministries here and in the world beyond.

            I guess the good news of all this is that Christianity is a faith not just for the mountaintop experiences -- the Christmas and Easter celebrations, the joy of baptism and the excitement of Confirmation, the occasional “aha” moment or even, for some of us, that special moment of intimacy with the divine. Christianity is also a faith for the valleys. Because most of us don’t live on the mountaintop in a world of continual spiritual highs and visions and glowing satisfaction – we live down in the valley where we basically trudge along, try to make it all work, try to do what we can when we can, dealing with blitzing linebackers and red dogging safeties and a life than can seem like a two-minute hurry-up offense.

            And yet it is there, right there in the muck and mire of daily living, that God comes to us. God does not wait for us to come to him, to climb the spiritual mountain, to master the life of prayer, to outdo Sister Theresa in good works.  Jesus comes to us there, in the mess of a manger, in the muddy waters of solidarity, in the dust of the long road, even on the smelly garbage heap at the end of our days. Maybe not offering a “Get out of Jail Free” card, no – but always offering his hand, a smile, and a promise to be with us always – both down in the hole, yes, but also along the banks of the river of the water of life which flows  through the heavenly city.

“’You Are Not a Winner’ – Don’t Believe It!”

Some time ago, on a day like most other days, I got up and proceeded to make breakfast for myself. Noticing that the fridge was empty of cranberry juice, my preferred breakfast beverage, I grabbed a new bottle out of the cupboard, and with only a minor amount of wrestling succeeded in unscrewing the top. As you know, often manufacturers will try to entice you to purchase their products by awarding prizes to those who are lucky enough to buy one of their products, and evidently Ocean Spray was running one of those sweepstakes at the time, as there was a short message on the inside of the bottle top. This is what it said, in capital letters and a bold font: “YOU ARE NOT A WINNER”!

            Now the cap did not say, “Sorry, this is not a winning cap”, or even “Sorry, try again.” No, it had to make it personal, had to gratuitously rub my nose in it. Not only had I not won a prize, I was not a winner. Ergo, I was a loser.

            Annie Lamott, author of Traveling Mercies, knows what I am talking about here. She knows how easy it is to fall prey to the message “YOU ARE NOT A WINNER”, to fall into the trap of thinking that we are never good enough.

            In one of her essays she writes of buying a used car, of her fear of being taken, of how she hired a mechanic to evaluate the car, of how she waited until it got a clean bill of health. She did everything right. But then, just a few days later, right in the middle of a busy intersection, the car just died. Traffic backed up; no one would help; people were yelling at her. It was, she writes, “my own private New York City.” She goes on,      

“It would be hard to capture how I felt at that moment. It was a nightmare. Bad Mind kicked in. Bad Mind can’t wait for this kind of opportunity: “I told you so,” Bad Mind says. It whispers to me that I am doomed because I am such a loser.” (Page 109).

It was not the car that got the blame here, anymore than that bottle cap took the blame for not being my ticket to some fabulous prize. Lamott blamed herself, Bad Mind told her that she had failed in buying that car, that she was inadequate, that she was a loser.

Where do we come up with this pattern of self-denigration? Where do we get the idea that we only have worth when we are a success, when things go our way? Where do we get the idea that we are what we do?

Is it true that our value, our worth, our identity, consists only of what we do and how well we do it at school or on the athletic field or on the job or in the home?

If you go to work each day for years and years, if you work overtime and put everything into your job, and then one day it happens that there are lay-offs and they let you go – are you a loser?

If you marry the person of your dreams and eight years later they walk out for a newer, more attractive in their eyes model, are you a loser?

If despite all your efforts to reach out to others you look around and see you don’t have as many friends as someone else, are you a loser?

If despite all your cleaning and decorating your house still does not measure up to Martha Stewart standards, are you a loser?

We all want to be winners. We work hard at it, constantly looking for clues on how to be winners. Maybe it’s the right clothes, the right car, the right people to hang with, the right activities to do with them. Because maybe if we succeed and win and keep winning then we will get what we really want, deep down: we will be loved. Because everyone loves a winner.

If there ever was a winner, there’s Jesus. He’s our winner, isn’t he? He is the one we want to pattern our lives on, the one we want to emulate. Wise, loving, courageous, strong, compassionate, he had it all, and we know he was a winner in God’s eyes. God even said so in the reading we had today: “You are my beloved Son; in you I am well-pleased.” (Mark 1:9-11)

And yet, look at the timing of God’s declaration of love and delight. It comes not at the end of Jesus’ life, at the point where he is faithful even to the point of suffering on the cross; it comes not at an earlier time, when Jesus sets his face towards Jerusalem, knowing even as he did so that he was walking to his death; it doesn’t come even earlier than that, after the Sermon on the Mount.

No, God’s declaration of love comes right there at the start of the Gospel, before Jesus has even begun his ministry, before he has done anything to earn God’s love and praise. God’s love comes first.

This is the Gospel message: you are love, accepted, God’s child. As it was with Jesus, so it is with you. God saying to you, you are not a loser, you are my beloved, with you I am well-pleased. God saying to you, I don’t care about anyone’s yardstick, you are my child, and I love you.

When Camden was only six months old we took a sort of pilgrimage to a holy place, a place that always had special meaning for me, my grandparents’ farm in the foothills of the Pocono Mountains. My grandmother, Camden’s great-grandmother, was 93 and bed-ridden, at home with round-the-clock nursing care. We had feared that our visit would be too late, but the day finally came when we drove down that old shaded lane and parked beside the barn and walked out of the mid-August heat into the cool of the old stone farmhouse, and there she was. I held her great-grandson, all of six weeks old, out to her, and laid him in her arms. It took most of her strength, but she bent way over and kissed him on the top of his newborn-smelling head and crooned gently, “He’s a good boy. He’s a good boy.”

Camden’s great-grandmother got it. At six weeks of age, no accomplishments behind him, no awards received, no achievements racked up: “He’s a good boy.” Loving him simply because he is.

“You are my beloved .. with you I am well-pleased.”

God’s message for each one of us.

So own it. And live it. 

Restoring My Soul

A young monastic came upon an elder one day sitting among a group of praying, working, meditating people.

“I have the capacity to walk on water,” the young disciple said “So, let’s you and I go onto that small lake over there and sit down and carry on a spiritual discussion.”

But the Teacher answered, “If what you are trying to do is to get away from all of these people, why do you not come with me and fly into the air and drift along in the quiet, open sky and talk there.”

And the young seeker replied, “I can’t do that because the power you mention is not one that I possess.”

And the Teacher explained, “Just so. Your power of remaining still on top of the water is one that is possessed by fish. And my capacity for floating through the air can be done by any fly. These abilities have nothing to do with real truth and, in fact, may simply become the basis of arrogance and competition, not spirituality If we’re going to talk about spiritual things, we should really be talking right here.”   (Joan Chittister, “Wisdom Distilled from the Daily”, pps. 1-2).

            The internet, the bookstores, the entire world is full of those who offer one fad after another which all share the promise that if we would just sign on and follow their program we will have all the answers to the struggles of life. And church can be no exception, telling us that the path towards spiritual wellness lies through meditation, or mastery of particular prayer practices, or attendance at specialized retreats, or some sort of Lenten study program. And more often than not, and just as fad diets more often than not fail to deliver on their extravagant promises, these fads fail to deliver what people who are looking for a new perspective, new meaning, and new hope are yearning for.  As the ancient story reminds us, our souls will not be restored “out there” somewhere, and not through our efforts alone.  Restoration of our souls is not something that we do, but is something that is done for us, and it is done where we are. The psalmist tells us not, “I restoreth my soul”, but “He restoreth my soul.” (23^rd Psalm)

            Maybe this is one of the greatest arguments for infant baptism. A child, far too young to have any intention about it, far too unformed to even have a conception of wanting to be ushered into a new community and a new life, is washed cleaned and refreshed and renewed and empowered though the waters of baptism.  What a model he is for us, what a teacher for all of us who yearn to have our souls restored. Just as the infant does nothing to restore their soul, so too we need do nothing to have our souls restored. This is grace, a free, unmerited gift that our Good Shepherd offers to each and all of us: “He restoreth my soul.”

            And yet, the soul is not restored as an end in itself, so that one might lean back in the recliner, put up one’s feet, and with a contented sigh settle in comfortably for the duration.  Life is a journey, not a destination, and the restored soul is expected to renew the pilgrimage. There are paths of righteousness – roads of right-living -- to be walked; there are valleys of danger to be negotiated, for peace and justice and abundance for all will not come in on their own and unopposed; and there is that final safe harbor at the end of the day, where one might dwell in the house of the Lord, all this life long, and forever. 

To the run-down, depleted, un-nourished soul, that journey might seem at best terribly daunting.

To a restored soul, a soul refreshed and renewed and empowered, that is an invitation to a journey of a life truly worth living.

“Addicted to Happiness”

(Based on Luke 1: 46-55)

      Today has been a special day for all of us here, and especially for Davey and Carrie, as we baptized into the Christian faith their daughter Mia.  And so my words today are for you, Mia, although it would be just fine if the rest of the congregation listens in as well.

            Mia, you are so blessed to have been born to your parents, and in this time, and in this great nation. And as you go through life, your parents are going to do everything in their power to not only keep you safe and provide for your needs, but also to make you happy. Trying to make you happy is something that they want to do, because they love you, but it is also something that seems to be wired into our DNA, and, more than that, it seems to be in the air that surrounds us. After all, you will grow to learn that the very Founders of this country believed that our inalienable rights include not only life and liberty, but also the pursuit of happiness.

            Mia, you will learn that there are many paths towards achieving happiness.  For instance, we know that material things can make us happy, and that is why we give presents of material things to those we love at Christmas time.  We find happiness through a neat toy or stuffed animal, through some fashionable clothes, through a large, flat-screen TV, or maybe through a new smart phone that can not only allow us to talk to others at great distances but also text, surf the web, send email, update Facebook status, take photographs, and even make double decaf iced frappacinnos on the go. (Okay, maybe not the frappacinnos, at least not yet!).

            But we also find that we can be made happy by enjoying a sporting event, such as a convincing blow-out by of the New York Jets by Tom Brady and the Patriots, or by going to a movie or watching Dancing with the Stars on the television.

            And when we cannot find happiness elsewhere or though other means, at times we can find happiness of a sort through alcohol or drugs.

            Mia, don’t get me wrong. I like to be happy. I like it when something I do seems to make others happy. But the truth is, you have been born into a world where we have become addicted to happiness.  And the reason that is something to be worried about, is that this addiction can rob you of the fullness of life we want for you, that Jesus came to give you, that God desires above all for you. Because happiness addiction can lead to sad lives.

            You see Mia, happiness is always dependent on circumstances, on externalities, on the situation one finds oneself in. Happiness is conditional, it depends on good health, on achievement, on what others think of us, on the material good we covet, on the experience we desire to have. Patriots fans were happy Monday night, Jets fans were sad – the difference was the outcome of a professional football contest. On Christmas morning, some kids will be happy, and some will be sad, and that may in part depend on whether Santa delivers the goods they hoped for. December 15 is the day high school students across the country will learn whether or not they got into the Early Decision college choice, and you can bet that is a day many will, depending on the contents of those letters, be happy or sad. Tomorrow morning, some folk will visit their doctor and get the test results back, and you know that, depending on what the x-ray or CT scan or blood results say, some will be happy, and some will be sad.

            Happiness depends on circumstances, but even when everything is going our way, happiness can still be not enough. Even with health, with security, with enough material goods to satisfy our desires, with everything that all totaled up should make for happiness, we can still fall prey to an emptiness, a sin-sickness, a wondering if there is anything more to life.

            So Mia, bottom line, we want you to be happy, but we also don’t want you to settle for mere happiness. What we want for you is joy.

            We want for you joy, because happiness is, at base, a mere echo of joy, bearing some of its marks, but just as an echo is a reflection of a human voice, happiness wears the mark of joy but cannot last. Joy, you see, is an inner quality that exists irrespective of external circumstances. As Barbara Brown Taylor writes, “The only condition for joy is the presence of God. Joy happens when God is present and people know it, which means that it can erupt in a depressed economy, in the middle of a war, in an intensive care waiting room.” (The Living Pulpit, Oct./Dec. 1996, p. 16).

            Look at Mary, in our reading for today. With little reason to be happy, joy erupts as she greets her cousin Elizabeth, as she embraces the idea that God has chosen to turn the world upside down, and that great newness was going to begin with her, but not end there, that it was going to start the ball rolling towards the day when no one will lord it over anyone else, when no one will feast while others starve, when no longer will there be the lowly, the oppressed, the marginalized.

            Happiness has nothing to do with denying one’s self, but joy is impossible without it. Happiness is about the pursuit of some thing; joy is about a depth of life that is all about serving and helping others. Jesus told those who would follow him, those who desired abundant life, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life from my sake will find it.” (Matt. 16:24-25)

            Joy doesn’t happen when we get what we want, and it usually has nothing to do with what we want. Mary certainly did not want to be an unwed mother, and Mary certainly did not want to be the one to birth God into this world, and endure whatever that might come to mean. And yet she came to rejoice.  And few among us want to grow old, and yet how many of us know folk who nevertheless exude joy, carrying with them a sparkle of delight in the blessings they have known and still known, and through that joy being a blessing to others, to family, to friends, and to the inevitable health care workers.

Joy happens when we finally figure out that God’s plans are so much better than our plans, that God has an uncanny way of opening doors when it seems all our paths are closed off to us, that even when it is clear as day that all our hopes are dead and buried, God will raise them, and us, to new life.

Mia, in the not too distant future, your parents will try to teach you this lesson by reading you a book, one which has come to be one of my favorites. It is called “How the Grinch Stole Christmas”, by Dr. Seuss. Its principal character, the Grinch, wrongly believes that Christmas is all about happiness, and he thinks he knows just how to ruin Christmas – he will make all the Whos down in Whoville sad by stealing all their Christmas presents and all the food for the Christmas feast. And yet Christmas comes all the same, and the Whos greet Christmas by joining hands and singing out in joy.

Mia, on this festive day of celebration, on this day when you have been washed by the cleansing, renewing waters of baptism, we wish you all the happiness in the world, and hope that your pursuit of happiness will be a successful one.

But more than that, we pray that you will always be open to being surprised by joy.