This past Friday, I went to the beach. It was a glorious day with brilliant sun and occasional fluffy clouds – the kind of day that makes me grateful to live in northern California – the kind of day that makes me feel God’s presence in all of creation – the kind of day that lets me imagine how it might have been on the day of Jesus’ baptism. It was a glorious day, and I was filled with thankfulness for life and God’s goodness.
All too soon, it was time to go home, and I headed back to my car. As I approached the car, I saw some strange markings on it. As I got closer, it became apparent that at least a dozen seagulls had used my nice little car for target practice. It was really rather amazing. None of the other cars in the parking lot had been touched. My car was the only one, and it was an absolute mess. Especially the windshield and the driver’s side window. As I stood there, looking at all that stuff, I heard a voice:
“You are my Daughter, the Beloved. Deal with it.”
I laughed and started cleaning off the mess.
Over the years, I’ve learned to pay attention to the life events that startle or astonish me. On Friday afternoon, I didn’t imagine that I would be telling you the seagull story this morning, but this was the second astonishing event that occurred to me this week, and the two events seem to me to be connected with each other and with the feast we celebrate today.
In order to tell you about the second event, I need to give you some background. During Christmas season, I’ve been reading Walter Wink’s latest book, The Powers that Be. Wink is a well-respected theologian whose ministry and work for peace and justice over the last 30 years has developed a new understanding of God’s hope for creation, of Jesus’ mission and ministry, and of our part in all this. He describes God’s actions in the world in a way unlike anything I’ve ever heard or read, and it has been electrifying to me. We will explore his understanding more deeply during our Lenten study, but this morning I want to give you some of the headlines of his work.
Wink presents a world view where every entity, every institution, every city, every nation, every corporation, every place of worship is imbued with spirit – a way of connecting with the holy, of being part of the holy, of moving toward or away from the holy. This spirit, living in each one of us and in each social institution which touches our lives, has capacity for both good and evil. Wink uses biblical language to describe these institutions which form the context of our lives as “the powers and principalities”. A good institution, structure or system supports all humans in living as God creates us to live. On the other hand, an evil institution, structure or system, serves itself rather than the common good. Evil and good are not limited to our personal actions but have their greatest impact as the consequence of the action of huge systems over which no individual has full control. When an entire network of Powers becomes integrated around values and actions that move away from God’s desire for the world, a domination system emerges and acts through violence at all levels to maintain the status quo.
That leaves us with a glaring question: if evil can be profoundly systemic, so deeply embedded in the world around us, so completely foundational in our lives, what hope do we have of ever seeing it transformed into goodness? What hope do we have of ever bringing the reign of God, the kingdom of heaven, into being on this earth?
There is a hope-filled answer to that question. If we see the Powers, the institutions that control so many aspects of our lives, as having true spiritual reality, we can hope for and work for their transformation. If we see the Powers as having capacity for goodness as well as evil – just like all other parts of creation, we can understand them as fallen. If we see the Powers as fallen, just as we know ourselves as having fallen short of the mark, we can see them as capable of redemption, of being brought into wholeness. If we see the Powers as capable of redemption, we can be participants in the transformation of the world.
And transformation of the world is exactly what we, as followers of Christ, are called to do.
This description of Wink’s understanding of the Powers that Be leads me to the second astonishing thing that happened to me this week.
On Tuesday, I was at a diocesan meeting which always begins with Bible study. This was the first scripture I had read since I began reading about the Powers, and I found that I was reading through a completely different lens and from a new perspective. I count on always seeing something new when I read scripture, but this was an experience unlike any I’d ever had in the past. I was not simply receiving new insights about a story or a teaching that I had heard many times before. This time, I understood the words themselves in a new way, as though I were reading in a new language. This time, I saw how every single one of Jesus’ actions – even those that had primary impact on specific individuals – were directed toward societal change, toward shifting the way the entire world operates, toward bringing fullness of life and freedom from injustice to every single person.
What do these two apparently unconnected events have to do with Walter Wink and his understanding of the Powers? What do all three have to do with the Feast of the Baptism of Jesus, which we are celebrating today?
When we are baptized, we become one with Christ Jesus. We are – each of us – God’s beloved child. And God calls each of us to deal with that – to deal with that great gift – to accept it, to honor it, to be strengthened and comforted by it – and to deal with that great obligation – to work for the inclusion of all people at the table, to strive for justice in all the aspects of our lives, and to be signs of God’s love to all the world. As children of God, brought into community by our baptism, brought into new creation, we are the agents of God, called into church, into ekklesia – the gathering of the people for the purpose of God – to recognize our goodness, to recognize our fallenness and to work for transformation in all the world.
As we reaffirm our baptismal vows this morning, I want you to pay particular attention to one of the questions I will ask you:
“Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?” The answer is “I will, with God’s help.” My friends, as we speak those words this morning, as we renew our vows and ask for God’s help, I ask you to remember the words we have just heard from the prophet Isaiah: “I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations, to open the eyes that are blind, to bring out the prisoners from the dungeon, from the prison those who sit in darkness.” You are the covenant. I ask you also to remember that you are God’s child, the Beloved. I ask you to listen for God’s voice and for God’s guidance as we act together and individually in the world. I ask you to remember that God’s love, God’s delight in each of us, makes all things possible.