Christ Consciousness

“Christ Conscience”

Romans 9:1-5      Matthew 14:13-21

Ninth Sunday after Pentecost, Proper 13, Year A, August 2, 2020

First Presbyterian Church, Sandpoint, Idaho

Andy Kennaly, Pastor

          The Apostle Paul speaks the truth in Christ, and Matthew shares a story about Jesus.  Most people familiar with that story would call it the Feeding of the 5,000, but that title misses the most important aspect of this passage, the part that the feeding depends on.  It’s also that essential part that helps unlock the language of struggle we hear Paul using as he shares with Christians in his letter to the church in Rome.

These passages share a deep Wisdom, the type of Wisdom that involves the work of the Holy Spirit in ways that words cannot capture.  When words fail us, we switch to stories, images, metaphors, and art.  Although we live in a scientific age and even though many Christians want truth that involves certainty and clarity, much of our wiring as humans is actually non-rational, pre-conceptual, and subconscious.  It’s from this soul-space that we meet these scripture passages this morning as Holy Wisdom echoes through ages.

Someone who embodies that soul-space is Mary Magdalene, the only follower of Jesus mentioned as being present during the entire process of his crucifixion, burial, and Christ rising from the tomb.  She is in every Gospel account of the Resurrection.  Of all the disciples, Mary Magdalene was the one who probably “got it” the most when it comes to Christ’s teachings.  Yet Church Tradition has sidelined Mary, usually assigning her the title of harlot, or whore, someone who was healed of seven demons by Jesus.  She was healed, but the designation of her as a harlot is circumstantial, and debated.  Some would even call it a smear campaign to maintain patriarchal power in church structure, authority, and doctrine.

Artwork has traditionally shown Mary Magdalene kneeling at the feet of Jesus and Mary appears submissive.  But another painter, Janet McKenzie, has created a painting that has a different message, drawing us into the depths of internal qualities of living “in Christ.”  Rather than a submissive Mary told to “not cling,” we see an empowered Mary invited to “come see” and “go and tell,” as one transformed in Christ.

McKenzie says, “I painted Mary Magdalene and Christ seated side by side as visionaries and spiritual teachers with their hands open in the universal gesture of prayer – gifts offered and received – as icons of the sacred.  Jesus, the Christ, sent to live among us as the Word Made Flesh, and Mary Magdalene, the first one sent to proclaim the resurrection, are models for the community of disciple-companions sent ‘to the ends of the earth’ [Acts 1:8] to tell and become the Good News for all.”  (Janet McKenzie, Holiness and the Feminine Spirit: The Art of Janet McKenzie, ed. Susan Perry, Orbis Books: 2009, 102; quoted on Richard Rohr’s Daily Meditation by Center for Action and Contemplation, July 24, 2020, “Come and See” https://cac.org/come-and-see-2020-07-24/, and this link includes the photo).

In a devotional featuring this painting, one is invited to spend a few minutes to see Christ from a new perspective.  I did this! – sat and stared at the painting.  (Oh, by the way, here is what it looks like!)  [hold up the painting] At first my eyes would shift from looking at Jesus, then at Mary, back and forth.  I noticed their hands reaching out, how the artist lines their eyes up together, putting them on the same level, as equals, sharing vision and insights.  As I looked at the painting, my mind picked apart details, noticing subtleties (like you may be doing right now). [put painting down]

From a surface level viewing, one either looks at Jesus, or at Mary.  For most people, that’s probably enough, look at Jesus, look at Mary, and say, “That’s a nice painting.”  But I found myself getting fatigued by choosing.  Through a dualistic mindset, in choosing one, you exclude the other.  In focusing on a subject, everything else is objectified, becomes an object in the background in relation to the subject.  The dualistic perspective keeps one in their mind, but this is not where art is intended to resonate.

I tried to see both, focusing on the middle space between their heads, using peripheral vision to capture them, but then you loose the eye contact and the painting becomes flat, dormant.  However, I relaxed my gaze, allowed the image to go a bit fuzzy, not quite blurry, but in relaxing my eyes and not struggling for focus, something new appeared as the two figures were still present on the edges, but a combined image emerges in the center, something not painted by the artist, but created through the icon.

As my eyes relaxed, that new image shifted from Christ’s face to Mary’s face, eye to eye with me.  Then Mary’s face started taking on qualities of Jesus’ face, like the beard, and Jesus took on feminine attributes from Mary.  If I tilted my head, my right eye and left eye matched better, and Mary and Christ became one, fully holding all the aspects, deeply engaged in eye contact, as if they were not static objects on a page, but as icons are, windows into deeper realities.

I held my hands out to match their prayerful stance and soon this two-dimensional piece of art became a prayerful, relational experience as Mary and Christ included me in this conversation of the soul, and my face merged with theirs as I too became one of the subjects to “come see” and “go tell” as a disciple-companion, and become the Good News.

The Living Christ invites us into the internal transformation of consciousness, which changes the world.  This can feel threatening and to  allow God’s love to infuse you at all levels is harder than it sounds, and a struggle to believe, as someone as faithful as the Apostle Paul shows us.

The process of becoming the Good News for all is a painful process, involving struggle of mind and heart.  Our ego doesn’t relinquish control voluntarily, and we continually face the world’s brokenness.  The Mystic Paul gives us fair warning as this apostle shows us the anguish involved as contemplatives wrestle with the Spirit.

Paul says, “I am speaking the truth in Christ – I am not lying; my conscience confirms it by the Holy Spirit – I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart.”  Paul is “in Christ,” mystically experiencing transformation of consciousness by the Holy Spirit.  Here is a verse we could call, Contemplation 101.  Paul is “in Christ” and united with the Holy Spirit, and yet it involves unceasing anguish, great sorrow.  He has discovered that the call of Jesus to “come follow” is an invitation to suffering, most prominently within our own mind because what once worked doesn’t work anymore, yet once you know, you can’t not know.

Paul is recognizing this, saying, “I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my own people, my kindred according to the flesh.”  This is the human struggle of deep conversion.  Paul is, in some ways, longing to go back and just be part of society, unquestionably blissful, living the party line, enjoying the law and order and structure of egoic thinking, identities of belonging, and loyalties.  He is an Israelite, claiming covenant blessings, and yet through that very blessing comes the Messiah, through whom this covenant expands to include “all” in God’s blessing.  Paul’s citizenship is relativized, for he is now “in Christ,” and there is no distinction in all heaven and Earth that will separate from God’s love in Christ.

Yet he has great sorrow and unceasing anguish in his heart, to the point where he almost wishes he could forget the Christ part and just go back to the people, but he can’t.  The love of God has him, and will never let go.  His conscience has united with the Divine, and he sees that, he knows that, experientially lives that; and he’s feeling the pain of not fitting in anymore, and the depth of struggle to really believe it, to get past the dysfunctions of the mind to truly accept that this Good News is really good.

This is where Matthew’s Gospel also helps, and where feeding the 5,000 depends on Jesus, the archetype of faith, to live out the blueprint for how this transformation takes place at a soul-level.

This story pivots on the beginning.  Jesus has just been rejected by the home crowd at Nazareth; they shoved him out of town and tried to kill him,.  He’s just heard the news that John the Baptizer was beheaded by King Herod.  In the face of rejection and the promised threat of death, Jesus withdraws.  He doesn’t argue, doesn’t fight, does not engage in name calling or belittling or bullying, doesn’t wield power or force his way.  He withdraws.  The pressure is on, and Jesus is outa’ there!  Matthew puts it more gently, “Now when Jesus heard this, he withdrew from there in a boat to a deserted place by himself.”  And in that suspended silence, something happens in the life of Jesus, something courageously transformational.

Matthew is redundant in making the point that Jesus withdraws, in a boat; no one else around; a deserted place; by himself.  These make a point.  Plus he’s in a boat, which is suspended, held by the waters, and in that culture water has the power of life, and also symbolizes death.  This is Jesus’ form of dealing with what Paul talks about, having “great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart,” as they both struggle with life-and-death issues of spiritual growth.

When he goes ashore, the transformation is complete, the journey begins on the right footing on solid ground as “he has compassion for them.”  Compassion for the crowds.  Not contempt, not resignation, not writing off as hopeless, but worthy of God’s touch.  Jesus chooses to go ashore, and with compassion, cures their sick; those open to healing, those who are vulnerable and know it; those who give themselves over to the care from another, requiring great humility, receptivity, and openness; all qualities of someone seeking unity, wholeness, and healing.  Unceasing anguish in paradox with a healing touch shows the power to hold the tension as ones’ spirit expands.

The disciples are still focused on externals, as most people are..  “This is a deserted place, the hour is late,” in contrast to Jesus in Divine Union just beginning his public ministry.  “Send the crowds away to buy food for themselves,” they say as they focus on not having enough, and their lack of ability.  But then Jesus pulls a fast one on them, saying, “They need not go away: you give them something to eat.”  Yet still they focus on scarcity, trapped in their mind’s limitations.  “We have nothing here…” they say, as Jesus takes what they have, blesses it, has them distribute it, and there are actually leftovers.

This is a story of becoming, of the importance of spiritual catalysts changing the chemistry of life as we know it.  Unitive Consciousness has a way of including everyone, and what happens to one happens to all.  Here is Jesus, telling the disciples, “You feed them,” as he calls a very small percentage of the thousands gathered along the shore to be the Good News in the world, and it meets people where they’re at for this unitive sharing.

If Jesus had not spent time alone with God and wrestled with his deepest fears and overcome the threat of death, this story may not have happened.  If Paul had clung to conventional thinking that God’s chosen people were the only ones who could claim God’s glory, largely striving through and spiritually proud of their own efforts, then his mission may never have occurred.

How do we, like Paul and Jesus, discover the grace to trust the deep love of God, the creative work of Christ, and the sustaining Presence of the Holy Spirit?  By finding ways to clear the chaos and the clutter and ignore the fears and the worries and the bitterness of anxieties; by giving up the name calling, and the projections of our own deep wounds; by finding that within us which is from eternity, quietly observing life as it comes and goes.  Finding the quiet center is like spending time with Jesus on the boat, far away, simply being.  In that soul-space, in Christ as Paul puts it, true conversion of heart, mind, soul and strength begins us on a journey with all the ebbs and flows life can throw at us, yet the quiet observer is unshaken, consistently loving, and patiently holding us as we faithfully trust that nothing in life, seen or unseen, can separate us from the love of God in Christ, Jesus, our Lord.

Thanks be to God for humbly reminding us that spiritual disciplines are important, to silence all voices but God’s own.  May we learn to quiet our minds, soften our gaze, and recognize the Living Christ to be revealed.  Thanks be to God for grace to see and hearts to perceive, and compassionately take steps on solid ground, both NOW, and forever.  Amen.