Whenever my pastor, Ali Tote, needs a break, I am called upon to fill in as guest speaker at Resurrection Lutheran Church. I always remind people that I am not a theologian or a preacher. I just relate my own experience and thoughts as they pertain to the bible readings for the particular Sunday when I preach. As much as I am able, I don't share anything unless I believe it or have experience with it. Typically, I tend to be optimistic, sincere, profound at times, and may be a little humorous at times. Many people seem surprised that I deliver meditations/temple talks or whatever you want to call them. I don't come across as a man of the cloth. Thank God, I might add. One person asked me, "Why do you do it?" They couldn't understand why I would get up there and share my ideas. I had to think about that question. Then I saw a documentary about the country singer, Alan Jackson. He said he sings and writes country songs because he has songs within him that he wants to sing. Sounds simple enough. Well, the reason I stand up and deliver messages is because the messages are the songs that I have in me that I want to sing.
I will attach some of my messages in the near future.
The following was today's message.
January 9, 2022
15 The people were waiting expectantly and were all wondering in their hearts if John might possibly be the Messiah. 16 John answered them all, “I baptize you with[a] water. But one who is more powerful than I will come, the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie. He will baptize you with[b] the Holy Spirit and fire. 17 His winnowing fork is in his hand to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his barn, but he will burn up the chaff with unquenchable fire.”
The Baptism and Genealogy of Jesus
21 When all the people were being baptized, Jesus was baptized too. And as he was praying, heaven was opened 22 and the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well please
It’s amazing how, in our human experience, we get tied to outcomes and expectations. We make plans and very often find that things don’t always go according to plan. Of course, having a plan can still be a good thing, but it seems to me that we need to keep our plans dynamic and be open to new circumstances and learnings. During the pandemic, we have had to adjust our plans and expectations. At first, I thought the corona virus would fizzle out if we all kept our distance, wore our masks, and washed our hands. Then I thought the final answer would be found in vaccination. Numbers would go down and people would achieve natural immunity or immunity through vaccination. And numbers did go down. Then I was told there was a new variant so I would be protected if I had a booster shot. And then, another variant came along. I see people adjusting their expectations yet again. Some are saying, “This variant is the last stage where the virus may be more contagious, yet less lethal.” Some say, this is how the Spanish Flu of 1918 ended. Again, people have expectations about how things will appear. And I am sure we will not know until we round the next bend the situation we will face. I have thought more and more in the last year about how we need to let go and go with the flow. I am not talking being fatalistic believing that all things are predetermined so there is no use in trying to improve your lot in life. I am saying that need to learn to live with change. Be open to adjusting your expectations and changing your plans as you are introduced to life’s emerging circumstances.
So how does this relate to today’s gospel?
In today’s gospel, we observe Jesus’ encounter with John the Baptist. The people of Israel were living under Roman rule and Roman oppression. John the Baptist began to preach in the wilderness and developed a following. Some believed he was the messiah, but he told people he was simply preparing the way for One who was much greater than him. One who was the actual Messiah. This messiah would not baptize them with water, but with the Spirit. The Jewish nation was expecting the messiah would be a great political leader, a powerful general who would vanquish the Roman oppressors and set the nation free.
That was the expectation. But what should appear but a lowly carpenter’s son. He had no credentials. No political power. No military might. No personal fortune. Just a lowly carpenter’s son.
In this passage, the expectations of the people are shattered without their knowing it. Whereas they had probably been expecting an apocalyptic messiah figure that would restore their political fortunes, they got an apocalyptic figure who redefined apocalypse, the messiah, and their expectations.
If they thought that John was looking forward to a serious drubbing of the Romans or other traditional enemies of the Jews, they would be sorely disappointed. He is more concerned with personal spiritual transformation within Israel itself.
He was the Messiah who would lay bare the pretences and false expectations of the people and reveal their deep seated need for personal and inner transformation.He was a complete surprise filled with ultimate and eternal meaning. The baptism itself signified Jesus’ solidarity with sinners. Jesus’ identity is confirmed by this event when the voice from heaven marks him out as not only a man of great worth and note, but as the very offspring of God.
It’s quite understandable that the people wanted a great political leader. But the real problem was not Roman oppression. The problem was that they needed spiritual transformation.
Think of the second temptation of Christ in Matthew 4.
8 Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their glory. 9 And he said to him, “All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.” 10 Then Jesus said to him, “Be gone, iSatan! For it is written,
“ ‘You shall worship the Lord your God
and him only shall you serve.’ ”
Jesus could have chosen the route of political persuasion or military might, but political action and military might does not change hearts. Recent events in Iraq and Afghanistan certainly prove that point.
There are many including yours truly who regret the action taken by Emperor Constantine in the early 300s. He declared Christianity the official state religion of the Roman Empire and even declared Christ as the patron saint of his army. No doubt there were people who were converts of the heart, but there were likely more who were political converts. Winning hearts and minds is not done by alliance to a political party or by military force.
Jesus’ method was to baptize with the Holy Spirit. The work of the Holy Spirit was to transform hearts by winnowing away the chaff of sins such as greed, unforgiveness, hatred, hypocrisy, and indifference toward human suffering. What is left is the fruits of the Spirit. “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control…” Those who are in Christ have been gifted with the Holy Spirit, enabling them to bear fruit.
The good news is that this . . . the Spirit is available to everyone, like wind, rain, and sun, because it is, in my Christian vocabulary, the presence of grace and the creative current of the Holy Spirit that flows through all of creation.
Furthermore, the Spirit of God brings us together. When belief systems and human agendas promote separateness and division, they are most certainly not the work of the Holy Spirit. The Spirit of God works to unite us.
This Spirit was and still is available to us all. It resides within us and when we let the Spirit guides our daily decisions, we are transformed. We become the good wheat that provides nourishment and blessing to others.
And lest I give the impression this winnowing process is all sunshine and rainbows, I would be neglectful if I didn’t say that the process of bearing fruit is a struggle. There are times when our branches need to be pruned. There is a need for consistent watering and nourishment. There are times when life’s storms and tempests attempt to blow you over and uproot you, but each of these storms cause you to become more deeply rooted and flexible. We are transformed by our suffering. And it should be emphasized that we do not go through this suffering alone. Somehow this life force we call God moulds us and shapes us and burns off all the impurities until what is left is pure gold. Furthermore, we got through this winnowing process as we live in solidarity with other people. We were created for relationship…relationship with God and relationship with one another.
Father Richard Rohr speaks of how we are transformed by living in union with God and one another.
I wonder if the only way to spiritually hold suffering—and not let it destroy us—is to recognize that we cannot do it alone. When I try to heroically do it alone, I slip into distractions, denials, and pretending—and I do not learn suffering’s softening lessons. But when I can find a shared meaning for something, especially if it allows me to love God and others in the same action, God can get me through it. I begin to trust the ambiguous process of life.
When we carry our small suffering in solidarity with the one universal longing of all humanity, it helps keep us from self-pity or self-preoccupation. We know that we are all in this together, and it is just as hard for everybody else. Almost all people are carrying a great and secret hurt, even when they don’t know it. When we can make the shift to realize this, it softens the space around our overly defended hearts. It makes it hard to be cruel to anyone. Shared struggle somehow makes us one—in a way that easy comfort and entertainment never can.
Some mystics even go so far as to say that individual suffering doesn’t exist at all—and that there is only one suffering, it is all the same, and it is all the suffering of God. The image of Jesus on the cross somehow communicates that to the willing soul. A Crucified God is the dramatic symbol of the one suffering that God fully enters into with us—much more than just for us, as we were mostly trained to think.
If suffering, even unjust suffering (and all suffering is unjust on some level), is part of one Great Mystery, then I am willing—and even happy, sometimes—to carry my little portion. But I must trust that it is somehow helping someone or something, and that it matters in the great scheme of things.
Nearly every time I preach I excuse myself with this disclaimer: I am not a theologian. And because I am not a theologian, you are likely going to get a surprise or two. You may have expected me to speak on these verses from Luke 3 and interpreted the verses on burning the chaff in unquenchable fire as an illustration of how God was going to destroy all the wicked sinners of this world and leave only the righteous. Or you may have expected me to speak on the Baptism of the Holy Spirit as an opportunity to be filled with the Holy Spirit and speak in tongues.
But no, maybe I surprised you and gave you something you didn’t expect. I hope it was a good surprise. Amen
