The Wind, the Dove, the Holy Spirit

Just like that we are back to work. With a theological snap of the fingers time shifts. With a secular roar the uproar we were living through just a few weeks ago comes streaming back. Winter is really here along with atrocious news and astonishing behavior. At least the days are longer now, teasing us with daylight a tiny bit at a time.

Just before Christmas we rejoiced at the advance toward marriage equality (okay, a baby step) taken by the Roman church leader. This week (of course) we learn of “backlash” in various parts of the world. Fortify yourselves my LGBTQ+ readers, we are in for another round it seems. Let me refer to this post from October 2009 (near the date that year of National Coming Out Day in the US and in Philadelphia the date of the OutFest): https://rpsplus.wordpress.com/2009/10/27/jesus-said-feed-my-sheep/

Then again, what better fortification might we hope for than the blessing of “a wind from God” sweeping over the face of creation?

Metaphors are a hallmark of oral culture. In our literate age we have the ability to store and retrieve anything whenever we want it, and so we don’t need to remember it or even to find it remarkable. But in oral culture history relies on the ability of listeners in community to remember and pass along the collective truth. Metaphor makes that more palpable, more operational. In Genesis the appearance of the Holy Spirit is described as “a wind from God” that “swept over the face of the waters” [1:1-5].

Echoed and sung in praise by the psalmist [Psalm 29]: the Holy Spirit is perceived in the powerful splendor of the voice of God that is like thunder on the mighty waters.

[Acts 19:1-7] Paul encounters some disciples in Ephesus. I love this line. What can it mean that Paul, passing through “interior regions” found” some disciples? Of course it is a sign of the universality of the new dimension of love, the door to which opened in the ministry of Jesus. Disciples, people of the good news of the power of God’s love are everywhere! In this story, these loving disciples have not heard about a Holy Spirit. Paul learns it is because they have become followers through the “baptism of John.” Paul lays hands on them in the name of Christ and they receive the Holy Spirit.

[Mark 1:4-11] John, as we see in Mark’s Gospel, proclaims a baptism of repentance “for the forgiveness of sins.” Repentance means literally to “think again.” A baptism of repentance is a formal way of anointing–with the very real water of the very real river–the action of remembering how people have disconnected from each other and therefore also from God.

Like the followers at Ephesus, people receiving “the baptism of John” are identified as having made a very real conscious decision to re-turn to God, to undergo a process of internal renewal to eject whatever within them has disconnected them.

Jesus is baptized by John in Mark’s Gospel, but also, he is in that moment connected directly with God as only he sees the “heavens torn apart” as “the Spirit descend[s] like a dove”—a metaphor for truth—and hears the very real loving voice of God.

We who are God’s heirs, created in God’s own loving image as LGBTQ+ people, have felt the wind of love that sweeps over creation, we have sung the praises of the love God created us to realize, we have seen the dove of truth that tells us the truth that the love we share is God-given, and we eternally receive the Holy Spirit.

1 Epiphany Year B 2015 RCL “The Baptism of Our Lord” (Genesis 1:1-5; Psalm 29; Acts 19:1-7; Mark 1:4-11)

©2024 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Tough Love

I’ve been taking my time putting away Christmas decorations. I told several people I kept having the feeling that Christmas was stolen from me this year. We had lights on the house, a tree, lots of decorations, all the usual food, lots of presents—you’d think I’d have been satisfied. But what we didn’t have was a four week run up of church through Advent—not just the liturgical realities but also the preparations and rehearsals for Christmas itself. We didn’t have friends in or drop in on anybody. We didn’t sing. After Christmas I love the sweetness of the season of Christmas too—the twelve days ending in the feast of the Epiphany, the arrival of the magi, the fruition of the remembrance of Emmanuel “God-with-us” and the launch into the refreshed new year. I was really looking forward to Epiphany this year.

Well, that sort of got taken from us too, didn’t it? We knew it was going to coincide this year with the certification of the Electoral College votes by the US Congress. But we didn’t know what else was coming down the pike. No sweet multi-course meal, no music by the fireplace this year. Rather, it was a tense day reminiscent of other days of tragedy in the world. I spent most of it working on academic research on one computer with CNN open on the other computer and NPR on the radio behind me. The only exception was the hour I spent driving to a healthcare appointment and back—all of that time spent listening to NPR on the radio as well. The capital was “breached,” a mob attempted a “coup,” a vile set of circumstances came home to roost (forgive my nicely mucked up metaphors). Democracy, in the form of the Congress reconvened if shaken returning to the constitutionally-mandated work of certifying a free and fair election, triumphed. But the social fabric remains shaky at best. Everyone is angry or frightened or both.

It seems there is a lot of anger floating about in the world today and much of it landed on us, much of it is still present within us. Preaching a gospel of love often feels futile. People want to believe in love, but it is really quite difficult to understand the concept properly. We love chocolate, we love strawberries, we love the sunshine, we love beauty, we love music, we love each other. Yes, these are all inward ways of comprehending love. But this is not what we mean when we say that we are called to walk in love. To walk in love is to give oneself to the act of always loving—it is an outward action, not an inward sense.

When difficult things present themselves, it is very hard to think about how to work around them by walking in love. Part of it is that we think we are supposed to love some one or some thing that obviously has caused us harm. Maybe, if you can do that it might help. But really, what it means to walk in love through difficulty is to refuse to give into hate, refuse to be embroiled in fear. Instead, we must fill our hearts and minds with the love of God and keep going forward. A psalm comes to mind (23:4) “yea though I walk the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil.” In a week like the one we just experienced in the United States, with mounting death from a pandemic that could have been mitigated year ago, with a seditious coup propagated by a sitting president, it is indeed tough to love.

Thus, it is time for tough love. It is time to refuse to be consumed by fear or hate or trembling, but instead to walk in love. How? Not by disregarding the circumstances. Rather, by responding bravely and firmly but always with a loving heart.

Here is where the season of Epiphany can show us the way. In Genesis 1:3-4 God’s creation is defined by the manifestation of light, which was good, because light is love. God’s love shines like the sunlight. The presence of light is the sign of the presence of love. The presence of love separates the dimension of love from the chaos of the absence of love. When we walk in love we walk in the dimension of light, the dimension of creation, eternally.

In the book of the Acts of the Apostles (19:1-7) Paul, arriving in Ephesus, baptizes a group of believers. Now, baptism is new birth by the Holy Spirit given through the action of water. The flowing water is a symbol both of the birth process and of the motion of the spirit, always forward, always cleansing, always refreshing. In Mark’s Gospel (1:4-11) Jesus is baptized by John in the Jordan river. As Jesus comes up out of the water he receives a dramatic vision of heaven accompanied by the arrival of the Holy Spirit descending “like a dove” together with the voice of God. Interestingly, it is an internal experience for Jesus, it is not just a response to baptism but also a catalyst to action. It is the acknowledgment of and the catalyst for the creative power of the presence of love.

We baptize children, we baptize new Christians. We forget, easily, that the people we baptize are people who embrace love. What happens after baptism? Many of us forget to walk in love. We pretty much learn to walk defensively, walls up, in fear. We learn to reside with the absence of love. And we forget that when we do that we create the kind of world we have now.

If we want a world that is not ruled by chaos or hate, then we must learn to fill our own world with love, even when it is tough. We must learn to look for, to prize, to nourish the light of love in our lives. Is there an LGBTQ perspective? Only that it is in this that we are truly and fully integrated. Indeed, it is we who are identified by the love we are created to share who can show the way.

1 Epiphany Year B 2015 RCL “The Baptism of Our Lord” (Genesis 1:1-5; Psalm 29; Acts 19:1-7; Mark 1:4-11)

©2021 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Spiritual charger*

God says “I have called you by name, you are mine.” It’s an awesome concept (to revist a badly misused term) that somehow everyone of us is called by name by God. I’ve always wondered whether cats really understand their names, or whether they just respond to a tone of voice used by their human companions. Several times over the course of my life I have met people whose name I just could not remember no matter what I tried. In a couple of cases I finally let myself memorize them by the phrase “A whose name is B” and that worked. I guess it works because it allows me to remember the key stuck in my brain and from there to connect to the actual name.

The scripture for today is all about the baptism of Jesus. As I wrote last year, it seems a little odd that the baby wise men were just visiting last Wednesday is now 30-some years old and wandering in the desert where he can come across John the Baptizer. But, that’s scripture for you. I like to take these occasions to remind us that sequential time is a human interpretation of God’s spacetime, which is a single continuum. Maybe last Wednesday really was thirty years ago! (Okay, I know better …. I’m just pondering things here.)

Two of my closest friends got engaged this week, Tuesday to be exact, and it got announced Thursday if I recall correctly. I enjoyed watching their Facebook feeds go berserk with congatulatory messages. Each message included their names. Names are important because calling someone by name is an acknowledgment of the power of God within. When we call someone directly by name we connect with the soul that was called by name by God.

As a priest I have presided at weddings and baptisms. The liturgies for these sacraments are lengthy and complex. But the key moments are the naming of the people and the invocation of Father-Son-And Holy Spirit. It is like connecting electrodes so the power can arc through the connection. For all the words I might have uttered at any of these events, the moments I remember are those electric moments when the power of naming a person baptized, or the power of naming two persons married sets the power of the Holy Spirit arcing about, connecting them and god and me and everyone present to all past and future in a heartbeat.

It is just one reason lgbt people can rejoice for full inclusion in the church as married individuals. It is one way of connecting the power from the moment of baptism with the power of the moment of marriage. It is one way of understanding the ontological shift—the change in being—that takes place when two become one literally in God’s sight and in the sight of God’s people.

I was crossing a street in downtown Toronto the other day when I passed a woman and two young men as the woman said “all the gay people are getting married now.” I chuckled a little bit. Of course we are, I thought. Now that we understand the power of entering into a sacrament together.

I can’t end of course without reminding us all that that’s the same power of entering the sacrament of the Eucharist together, which too few of us do often enough. It’s all a matter of plugging into God’s spiritual charger in order to remain always connected through the power of the Holy Spirit shared among us.

Peace be with you.

©2016 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

*1 Epiphany (Isaiah 43:1-7; Psalm 29; Acts 8:14-17; Luke 3:15-17, 21-22)

 

Calm, proud, insistent, equal*

In so many ways glbt people are just like everybody else. In fact, increasingly lgbt folk are being integrated into the larger community and with that comes both benefits and drawbacks. The benefits of course are all associated with being “normal” and part of the “crowd.” It’s great to just be one of the folks and not to have to even think about how you are maybe a little bit different. For those of us who grew up knowing we were “different” and likely going to get in trouble for it, this new kind of inclusiveness is a blessing. The simultaneous drawback, of course, is that we are in danger of disappearing into the woodwork. This would be a good thing, if true integration were just around the corner, but the fact is that true integration is still not quite here. That means, we need to be visible, because the squeaky wheel still gets the grease.

I suppose marriage equality is an example—whoever of my generation thought we ever would be allowed to marry? And now we are required to file federal income tax returns as “married”! We are having to learn to say “my husband” and not “my partner.” Not only are we having to get used to saying it, we have to get up and keep up the nerve to remind everyone else too. In the fall I joined an organization that presented me with the dreaded form on which to record not only my name, but my spouse’s name as well. At first I left it blank, not thinking about it; or, rather, thinking “that’s for heterosexuals.” The woman processing the form sent it back to me by email and asked me to fill it in. I was going to be upset about it until I noticed her email was very carefully worded. She had not said I should identify my “wife,” but rather, she had said “spouse” repeatedly. “Oh …” I thought, and filled it in. Recently I was receiving brief medical attention for a minor problem, and the receptionist who filled out my “record” didn’t blink when I replied “married” and gave my husband’s name. But the nurse who followed kept asking about my “partner.” The first time I said “my husband” was out in the other room. But when she responded pointedly that she would look for my “partner” I said, “he’s my husband; you’re going to have to learn to say that, because marriage is the law now.” I was proud of myself. Calmly, but insistently, I had stood up for us.

Sometimes I want to shake the community up, I want to scream “stand up for who you are and wear your rainbows with pride.” I get angry when I hear young gay men say they don’t want any of that “pride &X@$.” I want to remind them that once upon a time—like, still in most of the world!—there was no equality, no integration, only oppression.

But spiritually it is important to be who God has made us to be, and furthermore, to be so insistently, and calmly, and visibly. This, after all, is what God is calling us to do. God made us gay, God loves us just as we are, God calls us to testify to the glory of God just by the simple act of being gay. So go out to dinner with your spouse, or to the hardware store, or wherever it is you go together (yesterday we had to take our new iPhones to the Apple Store, and the pleasant young man who worked with us picked up right away that we were married!). Let the whole community see that you are gay and normal and equal and integrated. For God who created the heavens and stretched them out has breathed life into you, God has called you in righteousness, God has taken you by the hand, God’s soul delights in you—so that you can open the eyes that are blind to oppression, and bring the prisoners out of the dungeon of the closet.

Psalm 29 says “The voice of the LORD is upon the waters; the God of glory thunders … The voice of the LORD is a powerful voice; the voice of the LORD is a voice of splendor. It is God’s voice, calling you to equality. The final verse of this psalm is: “The LORD shall give strength to his people; the LORD shall give his people the blessing of peace.”

Baptism, of course, is how one becomes a Christian. The practice of ritual washing in moving waters, as a sign of the cleansing of sins, apparently preceded Jesus’ ministry. But it is clear from Mark’s Gospel that Jesus was sent by God to be baptized by John, and for just this reason—to open the eyes of all who are blind, to bring all prisoners out of their dungeons, to show the glory of the power of God’s which is the blessing of peace. God has ordained this sacrament of baptism for all of God’s children to give us the real experience of God’s grace received in the power of God’s voice thundering with your own blessing of peace.

It often is said that God’s time is not like human time, and that for God a thousand years last but an instant. In church time we have the odd experience that Jesus, an infant just days ago, now is a grown man baptized in the river. It is a reminder that sin is not a thing we do in time but an attitude with which we live. It is a reminder that salvation is not some future goal but a living reality in every moment, ours freely given by God requiring only that we accept it by glorifying God, which we do by being the people God has made us to be—glbt, calm, proud, insistent, equal.

*1 Epiphany (Genesis 1:1-5; Psalm 29; Acts 19:1-7; Mark 1:4-11)

©2015 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.