Tag: attention

Epiphany: Some Attention Required

Context: This was a homily shared with the weekly Wednesday morning Healing Service at Christ Church Easton, tying together the two first Gospel readings of the season of Epiphany.

Let’s talk about Epiphany. The word comes from the Greek word “epiphaneia,” which means “appearance” or “manifestation.” This is an event and a season dedicated to the manifestation of Christ to the peoples of the world.

January 6, this past Saturday, was “The Epiphany,” and that’s where the magi, or wise men, come on the scene. It was revealed to them, a group of Gentiles from Persia, who had nothing to do with Judaism, that Jesus was a sign: they observed his star at its rising and came to pay him homage. When they got there, they were overwhelmed with joy. When they saw him, they knelt down and paid him homage. They knew this child to be a manifestation of Christ and they had to act on it.

All definitions of the word “Epiphany” start with that very specific occurrence, the revelation of Jesus to the magi, celebrated on January 6. But just like any word over time, meanings change, they expand. If you look up epiphany in Webster’s dictionary, you find, in the second and third meanings:

1 capitalized :January 6 observed as a church festival in commemoration of the coming of the Magi as the first manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles or in the Eastern Church in commemoration of the baptism of Christ

2 : an appearance or manifestation especially of a divine being

3 a(1) : a usually sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature or meaning of something (2) : an intuitive grasp of reality through something (such as an event) usually simple and striking

You’ll sometimes hear people relate having an epiphany to having an “a-ha moment,” where all of a sudden, something makes sense in a way that it hadn’t before. But not in an, “Oooo… I finally remembered where I left my keys!” kind of way. There has to be more at stake. Something bigger has to click into place… you know, “a manifestation or perecption of the essential nature or meaning of something.”

I wonder, as we move through the season of Epiphany, which goes until Ash Wednesday (February 14 this year) when Lent begins, if we keep our hearts and minds open, if we are mindful of the season, what we might find?

It’s a Jesuit practice to keep a “Daily Examen” that looks back at each day for where the presence or touch of God met them that day. What a great idea–I wonder if in doing something similar, we can prime the pump for epiphanies with some awareness and reflection as we go.

If we are open to epiphanies, are they more likely to happen? The Magi looked to the stars for their sign–what if they’d been staring at the ground?

The fact that you are standing in a church at a healing service says that you might already have an awareness of who Jesus was and is. What if during this season, we tune in for moments, for instances, of his presence in our world today?

With the season of Epiphany and these manifestations of Jesus to the people, I want to use that lens to look at Jesus’s baptism (Mark 1:4-11), today’s reading.

This is four lines into Mark’s Gospel and we meet John the Baptist, a strange, but charismatic and influential leader who says, “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me; I am not worthy to stoop down and untie the strap of his sandals. I have baptized you with water, but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.”

John has already had his epiphany, his realization of Christ manifesting his presence to the people of the world. Mark communicates John’s epiphany to his readers.

Now listen to Jesus’s actual baptism:

“In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove upon him. And a voice came from the heavens, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

God is making sure Jesus doesn’t miss out on who he is and the writer of Mark is making sure his readers, including us, don’t miss what is going on, or who Jesus is, and what God thinks about him.


Amy-Jill Levine is both a rabbi, New Testament scholar, and author of a number of books on Jesus. In her book, “The Gospel of Mark: A Beginner’s Guide to the Good News,” she says this about the dove descending:

“It seems to me historically plausible that as Jesus rose from the water, he saw a dove and interpreted it as a divine message. This approach means being open to the natural world. It means heavenly signs can be as ordinary as a pigeon strutting on the sidewalk. It means that all signs require interpretation.”

Coming up from the water, Jesus looked up and saw a dove. It was a clear sign to him, but he had to connect it. God can send us signs, epiphanies all day long, but some of them may require us to pay attention.

I can remember as kids, especially around Christmas time, we would see TV ads for some of the toys that we really wanted. And the ads would show other kids playing with these cool toys, and one of the last things the narrator said in the commercial—perhaps predicting the reality of some of today’s pharmaceutical fine print—was: “SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED.” You put it together. And sure enough, come Christmas morning, whatever we were lucky enough to get, there was some… assembly… required. To get it to look like the commercials, we had to put it together.

“Some assembly required” was a 1980s phrase. In the 1970s, they just said straight up, “Assembly required,” no punches pulled.

Epiphanies are not quite that far afield. If they require a decoder ring, printed instructions, and an Allen wrench, that’s not in the realm of an epiphany—a sudden realization or perception. For an epiphany, God puts it together, it’s all ready to go, he’s done the assembly and he’s handing it to us. But we still have to look, we still have to see it, and take it. We have to pay attention.

What about the voice? This is what Amy-Jill Levine says:

“For Mark, the voice speaks directly to Jesus: it is personal, even intimate: You are my son, the beloved; with you I am well-pleased. The voice confirms Jesus’s mission. Mark here also unites Jesus with the audience of the Gospel: WE, like Jesus, hear the voice from heaven. WE know what the other people coming to John that day do not.”

God’s voice was a sign for Jesus. Mark’s Gospel and his telling the story, is a sign for us. God’s done the work, he’s put it together, Mark makes sure we don’t miss it.

This season, we are going to read about and talk about epiphanies, manifestations of Christ to the people of the world. Will we also experience epiphanies ourselves?

If we do, they might be “some attention required.”

Colored woodcut by Dr. P. Solomon Raj, a famed artist, author, professor and theologian from India.


Featured art at the top: “The Journey of the Magi” by Ralph Hulett.

More Subtle Than a Two by Four

God sometimes speaks with a two-by-four. That’s helpful for me because I’m frequently dense enough to miss something more subtle. I need to be knocked upside the head from time to time.

Sometimes though, we just get glimpses and it is up to us to take notice. In his book, “Tales of Wonder,” Huston Smith adapts the term grace notes to describe these glimpses or moments:

“I must have been under six that early morning I stumbled out barefoot into our backyard. The moist dew under my feet felt fresh, exciting between my toes. Its freshness penetrated every atom of my body. The day was just dawning, the sun was coming out, cool and warmth intermingled, and I knew that everything would be just right. I use the musical term grace notes to describe such moments, when our perspective shifts and we suddenly glimpse perfection beyond words.”

Those moments can happen anytime, as long as we are paying attention. I see them with sunrises and sunsets; I catch them while reading or running. I feel them when finding spinning pinwheels planted in front of the church after a Pentecost worship service. Or in taking the time to notice and help a dragonfly who needed a hand.

 

It means we have to redirect our focus off of where we are going or what we are doing next and take time to be in the present. I don’t think we can hear God speaking in the future, but we’ve got a chance to hear him in the here and now.

In her book, “An Altar in the World,” Barbara Brown Taylor goes back to the story of Moses and the burning bush, through which God speaks to Moses. Brown Taylor points out that the burning bush was not right in front of Moses–he had to stop what he was doing and turn aside to go see it. If he hadn’t, if he’d stayed on his task of tending sheep, he would have missed it and wouldn’t be the Moses we read about.

“What made him Moses was his willingness to turn aside. Wherever else he was supposed to be going and whatever else he was supposed to be doing, he decided it could wait for a minute.”

And that made all the difference. I wonder if we would? Or if I would? I try. I am pretty good about seeing the sky start to turn a sublime color and dropping lunch making or laundry folding and heading out to investigate.

Or having lunch outside and listening, breathing, and centering. But I used to be better about finding and helping create those moments with my daughters. If you posit God as a loving parent, then our own chances to be creative, loving, listening parents/shepherds/counselors/friends (I don’t think that is relegated to being parents) to others should and do provide countless opportunities for us to experience something of the love of God, by putting it out into the world ourselves. I have to sit with that more. I have to be that more often.

Sometimes in the frustration of parenting teenagers, which absolutely needs to be done–in the midst of grades and attitude and apathy–I lose sight of, and don’t make the opportunities to fill their (and my own) hearts and minds and days with the kind of creative joy and love that I want to. I have heard, felt, and experienced love through Anna and Ava in ways I will never be able to show enough gratitude for. I need to live into that more.

Brown Taylor cites a character in Alice Walker’s book, “The Color Purple,” who says, “I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it.”

We’ve all got our color purple moments. Our grace notes. Our burning bushes. Our chances to notice and to be differently in the world. To make time.

Note to self: notice purple; don’t walk by burning bushes; cultivate the smiles, the questions, the adventures, that begin from the inside and launch their way into the world. That way maybe God doesn’t have to break out the two-by-four so often.