January 8th, 2011 | |
Posted in church
When ever there’s a big event, like the shooting today of Representative Gabrielle Giffords, you have to rewrite your sermon just a bit. This is my updated sermon for tomorrow.
I have to make a little confession, here, first. The Lectionary text for this Sunday is really the story of Jesus’ baptism, his preparation for public ministry. But since Epiphany, which is the last day of Christmas, when the Wise Men come, almost never falls on a Sunday, I thought we’d celebrate Epiphany today.
Ya’ll know that Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal by Christopher Moore is one of my most favorite books ever. In it, Jesus goes looking for his three Wise Men that visited at his birth, thinking that they will help him understand and prepare for his life as Messiah.
Josh (or Jesus) and his best friend Biff met the 2nd Wise Man, Gaspar, and this is the story:
Sitting was what we did.To learn to sit, to be still and hear the music of the universe, was why we had come halfway around the world, evidently. To let go of ego, not individuality, but that which distinguishes us from all other beings. “When you sit, sit. When you breathe, breathe. When you eat, eat,” Gaspar would say, meaning that every bit of our being was to be in the moment, completely aware of the now, no past, no future, nothing dividing us from everything that is.
It’s hard for me, a Jew, to stay in the moment. Without the past, where is the guilt? And without the future, where is the dread? And without guilt and dread, who am i?
“See your skin as what connects you to the universe, not what separates you from it,” Gaspar told me, trying to teach me the essence of what enlightenment meant, while admitting that it was not something that could be taught. Method he could teach. Gaspar could sit.
The legend went (I pieced it together from bits dropped by the master and his monks) that Gaspar had built the monastery as a place to sit. Many years ago he had come to China from India, where he had been born a prince, to teach the emperor and his court the true meaning of Buddhism, which had been lost in years of dogma and overinterpretation of scripture.
Upon arriving, the emperor asked Gaspar, “What have I attained for all my good deeds?”
“Nothing,” said Gaspar.
The emperor was aghast, thinking now that he had been generous to his people all these years for nothing.
He said, “Well, then, what is the essence of Buddhism?”
“Vast amphibians,” said Gaspar.
The emperor had Gaspar thrown from the temple, at which time the young monk decided two things; one, that he would have a better answer the next time he was asked the question, and two, that he’d better learn to speak better Chinese before he talked to anyone of importance. He’d meant to say, “Vast emptiness,” but he’d gotten the words wrong.
The legend went on to say that Gaspar then came to the cave where the monastery was now built and sat down to meditate, determined to stay there until enlightenment came to him. Nine years later, he came down from the mountain, and the people of the village were waiting for him with food and gifts.
“Master, we seek your most holy guidance, what can you tell us?” they cried.
“I really have to pee,” said the monk. And with that all of the villagers knew that he had indeed achieved the mind of all Buddhas, or “no mind,” as we called it.
The Magi are important to the story of Jesus, because they are the beginning of understanding that Jesus is special in some way. Different… Gifted, if you will… The Messiah…
But why should we still recognize Epiphany today? Primarily because it reminds us, yet again, why Christmas is important. Not for the gifts that we’re given, much like we never hear much about the gifts of the Magi again in Jesus’ life. But instead, it’s because of the entrance of God into our existence. God cares so much about us that God becomes one of us. And this person, Jesus, who is most filled with God’s Spirit has lived to show us what life can look like.
But it’s also important, because it reminds us to slow down, to bless what would otherwise be, an ordinary day.
And why is it important to bless an ordinary day?
Because in every day, someone is doing their best to curse it. Whether it be the boss you can’t stand, the shooter at the corner grocery, the big corporation polluting the water. For every action in the world, for every “sin,” we should take a moment and not just recognize, but bless the good.
Barbara Brown Taylor wrote, “”pronouncing a blessing puts you as close to God as you can get. To learn to look with compassion on everything that is; to see past the terrifying demons outside to the bawling hearts within; to make the first move toward the other, however many times it takes to get close; to open your arms to what is instead of waiting until it is what it should be; to surrender the justice of your own cause for mercy; to surrender the priority of your own safety for love… To pronounce a blessing on something is to see it from the divine perspective. To pronounce a blessing is to participate in God’s own initiative. To pronounce a blessing is to share God’s own audacity.”
Blaise Pascal said, “Somewhere, something incredible is waiting to be known.” Blessing makes the time to recognize that something incredible.
Now, Epiphany is a Christian feast day that celebrates the “appearance” of Jesus, the revelation of God the Son as a human being in Jesus Christ. It’s usually celebrated on the 6th of January. On the Feast of the Epiphany, the priest, wearing white vestments, will bless the Epiphany water, frankincense, gold, and chalk.
In many countries, the people walk to the nearest body of living water and the priest throws a cross into the water. The people, if possible, then dive into the water to retrieve the cross.
We’re not going to do that.
There’s another tradition in the western church. Chalk is used to write the initials of the three magi over the doors of churches and homes. The letters stand for the initials of the Magi (traditionally named Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar), and also the phrase Christus mansionem benedicat, which translates as “may Christ bless the house”.
I’d like for us to do this today. Will you join me and help me at the door?
God bless the corners of this house and be the lintel blessed: and bless the hearth and bless the board and bless each place of rest; bless each door that opens wide to strangers and to kin; and bless each crystal windowpane that lets the sunshine in. And bless the rooftree overhead and every sturdy wall. The peace of man, the peace of God, the peace of love to all.” – Irish house blessing