Lenten #3: A Warning Label.

Beware of practicing your piety before others...

(Matthew 6:1)

The invitation to participate in the sufferings of Christ, comes to us “in the name of the Church.” It’s not the Gospel itself, but an invitation to enter into the gospel of our suffering through the church’s ancient Lenten tradition. In my evangelical tradition, we tend to ignore the 40 days of Lent. Too much Catholic rigmarole, we protest. Maybe so. Nonetheless, we are always free to fiddle with the ancient tradition and see if we can’t make it our own.

I suppose, of all the seasons, Lent is most susceptible to fabricated piety. We probably should put the Apostolic Warning Label on our Lenten Season:

Do not let anyone condemn you in matters of food and drink or of observing festivals, new moons, or Sabbaths. These are shadows, but reality belongs to Christ. So do not let anyone disqualify you, insisting on self-abasement and worship of angels, dwelling on visions, puffed up without cause by a human way of thinking. … They are simply human traditions and teachings. These have indeed an appearance of wisdom in promoting self-imposed piety, humility, and severe treatment of the body, but they are of no value in checking self-indulgence (Col 2:16-23).

It’s a warning label we need to place on every religious claim and activity. Let’s see if we can participate in Lent without falling into self-indulgent piety. Jesus teaches us how to go about Lenten practices like fasting and alms giving in an unpretentious Jesus sort of way (Sermon on the Mount).

Lent #2: The invitation.

The sufferings of this present time.

(Romans 8:18)

Evangelical Protestants, like me, turn to the Anglicans to keep us in touch with ancient traditions such as Lent. Here’s how the Book of Common Prayer introduces us to our Lenten Season:

I invite you, therefore, in the name of the Church, to the observance of holy Lent by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting and self-denial; and by reading and meditation on God’s holy Word. And, to make a right beginning of repentance, and as a mark of our mortal nature, let us now kneel before the Lord, our maker and redeemer (p. 265).

Beautiful, isn’t it? Those Anglicans know how to write. They can make fasting and self-denial sound good. It will be easy for me this Lenten Season to acknowledging “our mortal nature.” So, I’ll start Lent by “marking [my] mortal nature,” and “kneeling before the Lord, our maker and redeemer.”  

Lent #1: Ash Wednesday.

We share in his sufferings…

(Romans 8:17)

During the 40 days of lent, the church shares in the sufferings of Christ. Traditionally, our Lenten participation in Christ's sufferings include fasting, repentance, and almsgiving (a bible word for charity).

We get the forty days from Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness where “he fasted forty days and forty nights” (Mt 4:2). Calculating back 40 days from Easter gets us to Ash Wednesday which marks the beginning of Lent. Yet, that’s not exactly how it works. I just counted back 40 days from Easter and I landed on Tuesday, March 3; not, Ash Wednesday, February 26. How come? Well, it has to do with Sunday. You can’t count Sunday, because Sunday is never, not even during Lent, a sad day. Sunday is always and already a feast day because that’s the day we celebrate Christ’s resurrection. Every Sunday is a little Easter. That’s why we tend to worship on Sunday morning. So, let me try it again not counting Sundays. That works. Not counting the six Sundays of Lent, I landed squarely on Ash Wednesday.

Yet still, Ash Wednesday keeps jumping around. Ash Wednesday came in March last year and next year it comes on February 17. Why won’t it stay put? That’s because Easter jumps around. It has to do with the first Sunday following the first full moon on or after the spring equinox. Creation is in on it. Everything is fixed according to where Easter lands. I like that. You can’t pin God down. The calendar can’t hold him. God remains wild and free. All we can do is believe and follow and set our lives accordingly.

Epiphany #14 of 14: Reflections on the last day of Epiphany.

Jesus did many other signs…

(John 20:30)

The Season of Epiphany concludes with Jesus’ first miracle at that wedding festival in Cana of Galilee when Jesus turned water into wine. John calls the miracle a “sign”—an epiphany that “revealed his glory” (Jn 2:11).

More will be told about how “Jesus went about doing good and healing the oppressed”, until we come to The Sign of the Cross “when they put him to death by hanging him on a tree”; and, how “God raised him up on the third day”; so that, “everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name” (Ac 10:38-43). There’s more—there is always more. The Gospel story continues with our resurrected Lord ascending to the “right hand of the Father” where he intercedes in our behalf to this very day (Lk 2:50-53 & Ro 8:34).

“Sign” is a good word. It is an epiphany word. The Gospel writers: Matthew, Mark, Luke and John; never use the word “proof”. They tell of signs which, when accompanied by the unseen workings of the Holy Spirit (Jn 16:8), brings us to faith in Jesus Christ as our one true Lord and Savior. Christ, the Son of God and the Son of Man, is the One who salvages our lives for eternity (Jn 20:30-31).

Epiphany #13 of 14: First Miracle #3 of 3.

           

“The first of his signs.”

(John 1:11)

Jesus’ miracles are called “signs” (Jn 1:11, 4:54). It did not seem to happen purposefully as a sign. That is, Jesus does not say, “Watch this sign!” He is hesitant. He doesn’t make a big deal about it. My guess is John, later (20:30), realizes that what happened at Cana of Galilee was a sign—a sign causing the disciples to believe; or, begin to believe, that Jesus really was the Anointed One.  It remains for us a sign pointing beyond itself. What else could the miracle of turning water into wine signify?

I’m wondering about those “six stone water jars… holding twenty or thirty gallons.” Jesus tells the servants to “Fill the jars to the brim.” That’s a lot of water turned to wine: 30 x 6 = 180 gallons. That’s a lot of trips to the well. If my math works (always questionable), it comes to near 1,000 bottles of wine; could that be? The quantity overflows, and the quality is the finest: “The best wine” (vs 10). That’s how the prophets spoke of the Messianic Age: “In that day sweet wine will flow from the hills” (Am 9:13 & Jl 3:18). Maybe it signifies that “That Day” has come.

Or, if we combine this first sign with the fourth sign when Jesus multiplied loaves of bread and spoke of himself as “the bread of life” (Jn 6:48); maybe it points us to the wine and bread of the Last Supper, or the wine and bread of our Lord’s Supper that we share to this day. Or, again, maybe the Cana miracle points beyond its self to that Great Wedding Feast that awaits us in Glory when we are gathered together for the Marriage Super of the Lamb (Rv 19:9). Because of the miracle at Cana of Galilee, every glass of wine we drink with joy and thanksgiving reminds us of Jesus and how he began his ministry among us by turning water into wine at the wedding in Cana of Galilee.

Epiphany #12 of 14: First Miracle #2 of  3.

“They have no wine”

(John 1:3)

In Bible times, a wedding festival went on for days lasting up to a week. A honeymoon tent would be set up as guest anticipated “the bridegroom emerging from his wedding canopy like the sun rising in the morning” (Ps 19:4-6). The wedding party celebrated the bride and groom’s love with music (Song of Songs) and dancing (Song 6:13), and the singing of love songs describing the beauty of the young couple (Song 5:10-16, 6:1-10, 7:1-10), and plenty of wine (Song 1:2,4, 4:10, 5:1, 7:9, 8:2).

Mary, along with her son Jesus plus his freshly called disciples, come as guests to such a wedding festival held down the road about eight miles towards the Great Sea in the village of Cana of Galilee. A few days into the celebration, Mary learns that the bridegroom has run out of wine. Could it be that all those recently called disciples arrived unexpectedly, and Mary feels responsible? Or, maybe, Mary is thinking of her own marriage and how she never enjoy such a wedding celebration. Yet, it is because of her uncelebrated marriage that she knows something about Jesus that no one else knows. She knows that Jesus could somehow salvage the wedding celebration.

So it is that Mary tells Jesus about the wine problem. Jesus does not appear interested. His “hour has not yet come.” Jerusalem is his destiny—his crucifixion, resurrection and ascension. That Great Miracle that would change everything. The problem of the wine giving out seemed trivial, I suppose, in light of Calvary. Nonetheless, Mary proceeds believing that somehow Jesus will do what only he can do.

No one knows. The steward and the guests simply carry on with their jollifications marveling that the bridegroom has saved the best wine for last. But, we know. Mary knows. The servants know. And, somehow, the disciples know and they “believed in him” (Jn 2:11).

Epiphany #11 of 14: First Miracle #1 of 3.

The Wedding in Cana of Galilee.

(John 2:1)

Jesus’ first miracle “revealed his glory” (Jn 2:11). It happened on the third day after Jesus had called his first disciples. It happened at a wedding festival in Cana of Galilee (Jn 2:1-11):

On the third day there was a wedding in Cana of Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus and his disciples had also been invited to the wedding. When the wine gave out, the mother of Jesus said to him, "They have no wine." Jesus said to her, "Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come." His mother said to the servants, "Do whatever he tells you.”

Now standing there were six stone water jars for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons of water. Jesus said to the servants: "Fill the jars with water." (And they filled them up to the brim.) "Now draw some out, and take it to the chief steward."

So they drew it out. When the steward tasted the water that had become wine, and did not know where it came from (though the servants who had drawn the water knew), the steward called the bridegroom and said to him, Everyone serves the good wine first, and then the inferior wine after the guests have become drunk. But you have kept the good wine until now."

Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed

in him.

The story of itself is pure delight, isn’t it? The human and divine mixed, as the creed says, “without confusion or separation” (Chalcedon, 451AD). Just Jesus being Jesus.

Epiphany #10 of 14: Reflection

God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law.

(Galatians 4:4)

The purpose of my reflections on the Christian Calendar is to hand on to my children and my children’s children the content of my faith—that Christmas and Easter are really true and that changes everything. I wouldn’t want them, or anyone, to live without Christmas and Easter. To live, as Lewis puts it, as if it were “always winter but never Christmas” (LWW).

So we have moved from Advent through Christmastide and now well into Epiphany. Tradition has it that during Epiphany we should at least tell again the stories of the Magi and the flight into Egypt, and of Christ’s baptism, and of Christ’s first miracle. So far, we’ve told two, with one to go. There’s always more to be told about how “Jesus went about doing good and healing the oppressed” (Ac 10:38).

I’ve been struck by the humanity of these stories. It brings me back to the Apostle reminding us that Jesus, though “God sent”, was “born of a woman, born under the law, to redeem.” We tend to think of the virgin birth as signifying Christ’s divinity: “conceived of the Holy Spirit.” But the Apostle speaks of the humanness of Christ’s birth: “born of a woman, born under the law.” He does not just drop from the sky. He enters fully into human life.

The Jesus of Epiphany is always and already both the Son of God and the Son of Man. Unlike the Jesus of the gnostic gospels, like the Gospel of Thomas, who never quite touches the ground. For the gnostic gospels, Jesus is far above us with no need to heed the Law. Isn’t it interesting that Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John tell us of the humanity of the Son of God beginning with baby Jesus taken to the temple to participate in all the rituals “required by the Law” (Lk 2:39), to that scary escape into Egypt, to his insistence for John to perform the ritual of baptism. He has human feelings of hunger and thirst, of indecisiveness, even ignorance (“Not even the Son knows” Mt 2:36). He really did enter into our world. That’s why today “Christ is able to empathize with our weaknesses” (Hb 4:15).

Epiphany #9 of 14: baptism #5 of 5.

Then Jesus was tempted.

(Matthew 4:1)

Immediately after baptism, “Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil” (Mt 4:1). The tempter tempts: “Are you sure you are the Son of God?” And, if you are, show us some tricks, like “turning stones into bread.” Jesus is tempted to deny his baptism—to be something he is not, and to do something contrary to his calling.

That’s the nature of temptation. Adam and Eve were tempted to become something they were not; so too, the devil tempts Jesus to become something he is not. The first man falls into temptation. Christ, the Son of Man, resists the tempters temptation. Jesus will remain faithful to his baptism—faithful to who he is, and faithful to what he is called to do. Jesus will remain true to himself and true to his destiny—a destiny that brings about a “new humanity” (Eph 2:15).

That’s how our baptism works. Our old humanity, marked by sin and death, goes under; and, something new comes up out of the water—a new humanity. That’s always our temptation: did our baptism really mean anything? Are we really new? That’s why, from time to time, we need to remember how we came up out of the waters of baptism “so that we might walk in newness of life” (Rom 6:4).

Epiphany #8 of 14: baptism #4 of 5.

This is my beloved Son.

(Matthew 3:17)

“God is love” (1Jn 4:8). It’s a uniquely Christian affirmation. It’s found nowhere else in all of literature—not in any religious writings, nor among the philosophers, not even the poets. It’s not an idea about love or a philosophy of love; it has to do with Jesus’ baptism—with Epiphany, with how the beloved Son lived among us. It’s love in action. That’s how the Bible goes on to describe such love: “God showed his love among us by sending his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him” (1Jn 4:9). To know Christ is to experience the love of God: “God’s love is made complete in us” (1Jn 4:12).

Baptism is a loving event. The love of God the Father for the Son, and the love of God the Son for the Father; and, God the Spirit who binds us together in Christian love. This baptism love will lead Christ all the way to Calvary: “God loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins” (1Jn 4:10).

Epiphany #7 of 14: baptism #3 of 5.

Behold… the Spirit of God descended like a dove.

(Matthew 3:16)

From the beginning, “the Spirit of God hovered over the waters” (Gn 1:2). So now, in the waters of Jesus’ baptism, the Spirit of God hovers and “descends on Jesus like a dove” (Mt 3:16). Like that dove Noah sent out from the ark to see if the flood waters had subsided. Eventually, the dove returns “with a freshly plucked olive leaf in its beak” (Gn 8). The goodness of the earth returns. God places the rainbow in the sky as a sign of his promise to stick with his creation, redeem it, and make it right. And now, coming out of the waters of the Jordan, Jesus will follow the path that leads to “a new creation” (2Cor 5:17).

Our sanctuary’s one stain glass window pictures a dove descending upon the congregation. The descending dove represents the Holy Spirit’s stirring. The country song, “On the Wings of a Dove,” tells the story:

When Noah had drifted
on the flood many days
He searched for land
In various ways
Troubles, he had some
but wasn't forgotten
He sent him His love

On the wings of a dove.

On the wings of a snow-white dove
He sends His pure sweet love
A sign from above
On the wings of a dove.

Like a dove, the Holy Spirit hovers over the troubled waters of our earthly lives. The waters subside and we land again on solid ground. God the Holy Spirit is present from the beginning—inseparable from the God the Father and God the Son. We can’t know Christ apart from the Holy Spirit. Baptism marks us as God’s own, and the Holy Spirit seals us in Christ (Eph 1:13). “Immanuel,” God is with us.

Epiphany #6 of 14 : baptism #2 of 5.

Behold the heavens were opened.

(Matthew 3:16)

John consents to baptize Jesus. At first, nothing particularly notable—just Jesus and John discussing things while entering the waters of Jordan. But, when Jesus comes up out of the water, epiphany happens:

Behold, the heavens were opened

        and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove,

        and alighting on him;

and lo, a voice from heaven,

        saying, "This is my beloved Son,

        with whom I am well pleased."

When the heavens opened up, Jesus receives the Father’s “Yes”, while the Holy Spirit, empowers him for what lies ahead. Our whole eternal triune God appears that day when Jesus was baptized in the Jordan River.

Jesus assures us that in every baptism the whole of our triune God is present—God the Son who forgives and redeems us; God the Father who says “Yes” to us and calls us his own; and God the Holy Spirit who empowers us, in unseen ways, to follow Jesus even when Jesus can no longer be seen going before us. That’s why, at our baptism, we say the words, just as Jesus instructed: “I baptize you Elizabeth, in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.”