Hearts that Hear
“Hearts that Hear”
Baptism of the Lord Sunday, Year C, January 13, 2019
Psalm 29 Luke 3:15-17, 21-22
First Presbyterian Church of Sandpoint, Idaho
Pastor Andy Kennaly
Kenosis is a Greek word for emptying, or in terms of Jesus and the pattern he shares, Kenosis involves a path of descent. Kenosis invites holding things loosely, letting go, releasing, and rather than experiencing a diminishment, through this important soul work we enter into spaciousness as there is an opening of the heart.
In Luke we hear that all the people were full of expectation and questioning in their heart. Thus the irony as this Gospel introduces Jesus and his ministry through baptism, love, and relationship.
This morning’s scriptures take us on a journey of kenosis as we move, in terms of theme or dynamic, from high and mighty and potentially detached to low and humble and definitely united. From Heavenly beings ascribing the Lord glory and strength in Psalm 29 to a dove bringing down the living Presence of the Holy Spirit in Luke, thunder and lightning, flames and shaking wilderness with trees snapping, give way to heart-felt perceptions of relational closeness and acceptance.
While most of the world seems intent to invest in social structures based on power, greed, and influence, creating walls of separation that reinforce a dependency on laws to help legislate human behavior, from personal to international levels, this morning we are renewed in our baptismal promises as we discover through the more ancient message of the Church that we are centered in the grounding reality of divine love. This love is transformational, and puts rules and regulations in their proper place as results rather than mandates, as indicators of the internal rather than enforcers of the external. As Kenosis happens, descending into the heart, as perspectives clear, as love takes hold, baptismal waters wash away the debris as we die to ourselves and we find new life, centered in Christ.
Perhaps that is what’s behind the Psalmist’s prayer as they share awe and wonder. “The voice of the LORD is over the waters; the God of glory thunders, the LORD, over mighty waters.” This echoes that primordial story of the Spirit hovering in deep darkness over the waters, bringing order out of chaos; creating light and life.
On Lake Superior a storm from the northeast can bring waves across hundreds of miles of open water and by the time they reach the south shore they can be over ten, even twenty feet tall, crashing into the sandstone cliffs, carving out what’s called ‘sea caves,’ or piling up onto open beaches along Ojibway tribal lands. In November those beaches are typically deserted, except for the crazy college students that rush out to meet the storms with kayaks in order to surf those giant waves.
That’s what I did with a couple friends, back in the day. We paddled out into the raging lake, with wet suits and layers of wool, life jackets zipped tight, and paddle strokes taking us up and over each giant swell on the 6 to 10 foot rollers. Our excitement and inexperience brought us out too far and, thankfully, we decided to turn around. But sideways to the waves, I tipped over! I was now immersed in this inland sea, holding the bow of my kayak in one hand and my paddle in the other. Right after that, my other friend also tipped, and his boat got caught by the wind and drifted away, so he grabbed the stern of my boat and, together, we started kicking our way toward shore, which was a long way off. Our other friend paddled his boat to chase down the drifting kayak. Thankfully, he was a great paddler and stayed upright in his sea kayak and eventually we caught up on shore.
In the howling rain, switching to snow, the cold gale of November come early brought wind battering in from the northeast. Kicking one’s way to shore as wave after wave simply ignores you, one gets a sense of how small we are in the larger picture of the earth and cosmos and the forces of nature. Once on shore, we regrouped, tightened our rotation so we didn’t paddle out as far. Quicker on the turning, we spent the afternoon making circuits, surfing some amazing waves in Northern Wisconsin on the Lake the Ojibwe called gichi-gami, meaning ‘great sea.’ When we were packed up, standing in the snowy wind, looking out at the breaking surf, we knew we’d cut it close that day, and with heightened appreciation, life felt sweeter in its intensity and we were more alive than ever! (https://www.livescience.com/31952-lake-superior.html and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Superior#Name).
Like most adventures, they are only great if you live to tell about it, just like our Psalmist, humbled by the LORD, shares visions of God Almighty, choosing to bless the people with peace, a people who know too well life’s precarious nature. Filled with awe and wonder of God with us, we come alongside the Psalmist to proclaim God’s glory, to trust that God’s Spirit still speaks and is ongoing and active in loving the world into being, even now!
As we look in Luke, “the people were filled with expectation and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah.” This is both an introduction to this scene, but more importantly an existential description. The people are filled. They have expectation. All of them are questioning in their hearts. For one, being filled means you don’t have room for anything else, hardly a stance of humility. Having expectation reminds us of that saying, “Expectations are just resentments waiting to happen” because much of the time life doesn’t cooperate with our preconceived, egocentric desires, and our expectations can lead to resentments. Keeping in mind the path of decent, however, of the importance of Kenosis in Jesus’ ministry, notice how many times Luke uses the word “all” to describe this scene. “All of them are questioning” and “in their hearts” of all places! No one is settled or at peace in their hearts.
John the Baptizer goes on about the one coming using fire and the Holy Spirit, clearing out undesirables and ushering in a golden era for God’s chosen people. This is exactly what those questioning hearts long to hear, a fulfillment of their expectations as God’s thunder rolls over the waters, as God “gives strength to his people!”
But then comes Jesus, who is baptized like everyone else, and afterwards is praying. Cue the thunder! Bring on the shaking wilderness out there in the Jordan! But wait, all we get is a dove, in bodily form!? A voice comes from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” Luke doesn’t mention who hears the voice. Is it John, or Jesus, or both, or all the people? Do they hear it with their ears? Is it audible, or is this voice coming from heaven registering in some other way, and those with calm, spacious hearts can tune in to hear and pick up on it, while others, full of expectations with hearts that are questioning, just don’t?
This voice joins the Holy Spirit in bodily form like a dove to communicate the unique nature of Jesus as Son of God. His path of Kenosis sets a new template that even the followers of John the Baptizer, the greatest Prophet, didn’t recognize. John was a Zealot, son of the high priest but he rejected that status and power, choosing instead the fasting, the harsh, ascetic practices of the Essene Community which lived in the desert wilderness. He fully expected Jesus to not only observe their strict codes, but to take them to the next level of intensity. For the Holy Spirit, the fire John speaks of, to show up and gently settle in the bodily form of a dove?
It’s no wonder they were questioning in their hearts. Here they thought they had done a good job preparing. They know the rules, they follow the law, and they do it better than anyone, even better than the corrupt priestly class of Jerusalem’s privileged elites. These Essenes are ready for that threshing floor to get cleared, to burn that chaff, and gather the wheat.
But God shows up and says Jesus is God’s Son, not in the sense of exclusiveness, but to highlight the unique and totally different angle or tack the ministry of God is heading from that point onward. It is not purity, not ascetics, not exclusion or judgment which defines the unique character of God’s people only by differentiating from others who are looked down upon. Rather, we hear Jesus described as, “the Beloved.” This is less an adjective and more a verb. It is love in action that shapes hearts for ministry. It is love as action which seeks justice not for some, but as a condition of existence; justice as a thread woven with love into the very fabric of life as creatures in bodily form.
This is pleasing to God. Jesus, Christ, the new Adam, a fully human one who lives in relationship with God and all things through love; this is God’s pride and joy; this is what God’s voice now says over the baptismal waters of new birth as God delights in love and relationship!
Friends, this is the season of Epiphany, and last week I invited you to be observant of the many ways God is revealed in the neighborhood. Not only that, but allow your awareness to inform your hearts, and give yourself permission to try and put this experience into words through poetry.
I heard a report on the news that in Spokane, starting last week, all through 2019 the City Council is starting each of their meetings with a local author sharing poetry as they lift up shared experiences as a community. Last week’s poem was about the carousel in Riverfront Park, an iconic and recently renovated part of life for the Spokane area. The poem was amazing. You too can reach for the brass ring by writing your own stanzas and lines of “God with us,” and we’ll collect these at the Annual Meeting January 27th and create an exhibition.
Another way we celebrate God’s love calling us to humble service as we, by virtue of our baptisms, are called to ministry through Christ, is through ordination. This shares some themes from Luke, recognizing a time for a unique setting apart for service, a calling toward a role or office of ministry as Teaching Elder, Ruling Elder, or as Deacon. It’s a call which encourages a ministry of care and compassion, seeking justice and peace as God’s love is actively shared through the community of faith reaching out into the larger world. In just a few moments we will ordain a new Ruling Elder and new Deacon as we honor Christ in our midst.
To close, just a reminder that contemplation is probably one of the most accurate tools, or spiritual disciplines, to help us open our hearts to hear God’s call, the Spirit’s voice, to stay centered in Christ. Not external rules, not codes or laws, but heart transformation, which remind us of our essential nature, created by God as someone special. Remember, Fred Rogers of Mister Roger’s Neighborhood finally defined what he meant when he called every child special. In a commencement speech near the end of his life, he said being special simply means you don’t have to do anything sensational for people to love you.
As we die and rise with Christ, symbolized through the waters of baptism, we are special, and God’s peace and love lives in hearts forever. Thanks be to God for voices in the wilderness and for hearts that hear. And may God be glorified, NOW, even as forever. Amen.