Give it all up - Count it all joy

Luke 5:1-11

What strikes me first is that Jesus is fleeing the crowd - he is willing to teach, but wary of crowds... crowds seems dangerous, they can take things wrongly, crowds don't seems to think as well as the individuals who make them up, the anonymity of crowds often breeds irresponsibility or dreams of grandeur. Jesus is wary of this, but recognizes that for most people learning in a crowd will be their only (poor) exposure to his teaching.

Simon, the fisherman, first had to respond to Jesus' call (to set out in his boat) before he could ever reap the benefits (nets full of fish). He first had to act without thinking of his own benefits. And as he called his partners out to help him drag in the laden nets, you can almost hear in his voice the glee of the piety-prosperity principle - material prosperity indicates a piety and love of God. You can hear the excitement - how wealthy this one catch will make him, how respected he will be with the town leaders, how well dressed his wife and children will be, he might be able to hire another boat and hands to begin building a real business and then he could really take advantage of God's favor!

But, you see, Simon is a self-aware man, and hears his own thoughts and recoils at them. "Master," he says to Jesus, "I am a sinner" - I don't deserve this bounty, I am not as pious as you think, and God knows the truth. Don't bless me like this when I am so undeserving! Jesus answers tellingly - you will become a fisher of people - your bounty is not with these things, fish and position in town - your bounty is in people and their coming to know creative transformation in the Spirit.

And note what happens next: Simon, and his partners James and John, up and left it all - all that material blessing, all those fish and the prosperity and easier life it meant for them, up and left. Their livelihoods, families, homes and furniture and mortgages and cars and internet service and stocked refrigerators - they left it all. For Luke's readers, the possibility that God would bless the faithful isn't out of the ballpark - God had a history of blessing the faithful, even the Temple Priests and local rabbis said so. What would have been surprising and disturbing would have been that Simon and the others just left it all right there on the beach, abandoned wealth and prosperity and the so-called "blessings" of God. (After all, if God did bless them, what poor stewardship it was to leave it on the beach to be taken by thieves and beggars!) But that was Luke's strategy - his readers should be surprised and a little horrified at the audacity, the foolishness, the lack of wisdom! Luke is impressing on his readers that Jesus is turning the tables, inverting priorities... and in fact, getting them straight as they should be.

Now, later on in Luke they will return to Simon's house, so some connection is maintained there, but Luke is very clear what it means to be a disciple of Jesus: giving up attachment to any and all possessions. Here we have the first disciples - blessed beyond their imaginations with the possibility of wealth and comfort (tempted, like Jesus in the wilderness?) and giving it up to follow him.

Is this what it means to be a disciple in the community of Christ? How much can we ask from our parishoners, ourselves?

Sermon on the Plain

Luke 6:20-26

It has been said that the Sermon on the Plain, with Matthew's parallel Sermon on the Mount, serve as the constitution of the Kingdom of God.

These blessings and curses aren't for the future - this isn't the same thing Jesus does to the fig tree that doesn't bear fruit - but descriptions of the immediate present. Not "you will be blessed," but "you are blessed." Not "the Kingdom of God will be yours," but "the Kingdom of God is yours."

This shouldn't come as a surprise, because just two chapters earlier Jesus himself reads his career mission statement from the Isaiah scroll in Nazareth (4:17-19). And even before that, at the beginning of Luke, Mary sings out that God is bringing down the powerful and proud, and lifting up the lowly; feeding the starving, and sending the rich away hungry (1:51-53).

But it is still jarring when we read it here (which is miraculous in itself, given the years of layering and repetition that would have smothered any other radical pronouncements). What is it that is theirs, the poor? What is it that is theirs, the hungry? the weeping? And why would that be so violently denied the rich, the well-fed, the happy?

Yes, yes, "the Kingdom of God." But what does that mean? It has to be more than comeuppance - shaking your fist, crying "you'll get yours!"

Whatever it is, what should be most frightening to American audiences in the pews is where do we fall: in the beatitudes or the curses? Are we poor and hungry and weeping? Or are we - though we don't like to admit it - rich, well-fed, and comfortable? (It's a good thing this scripture isn't paired up with Jesus' encounter with the rich aristocrat [18:18-27], or we might be emotionally devastated right there in the pew. Or, perhaps we need to be heartbroken to really hear the gospel.) As it is, I think we know that we prove the curse: we are having our consolation now - shallow that it is, we still can't bring ourselves to give it up.

There's no confession of faith or creed to gain the Kingdom. No special prayer or sacrament required. What is required? Poverty, hunger and profound compassion. I wonder that anyone has that.

What Nourishes the Body...

I Corinthians 12:12-31

"... and we were all made to drink of one spirit." (v13)

It is a strange and beautiful image to link baptism with drinking - this is the drink, after all, after which we will never thirst again. But so closely linked, it is almost as if during the baptism we are supposed to take a big gulp of water! Drink in the Spirit - be transformed inside and out, totally remade new. Drink of one spirit, breathe in the spirit, clothe yourself in the spirit - how many ways can we say it? But the important part mustn't be lost on us - we drink of one spirit. We breathe one air and clothe ourselves with one garment. For better or for worse, we are united, and what one of us does affects the taste in everyone's mouth.

I wonder if this is where Augustine might have started his ideas of the corporate or social nature of sin (and conversely righteousness?). We never sin in a vacuum, and the ripples of our actions do not stop before they hit another person. Take global warming, for example - I may sin a little by not carpooling, but absolutely everyone is affected by that decision. Likewise, if I reduce my personal greenhouse gas emissions, everyone is affected. (And typically, even strategies to conserve energy themselves use energy to be created or implemented - buying a fuel-efficient car or adding new insulation to a home - revealing how inmeshed we are in sin, there are few ways to genuinely escape it.)

For better and for worse, however, we're in it together. The scripture reminds us forcefully that a person cannot say they are not a member - or that even if they do say that, it doesn't change the fact that they still are. Also, and perhaps more importantly (because it is less intuitive), a person cannot be told by another that they are not a member. Paul here is writing about the church and the community of Christ, which many Christians would do well to remember when we speak too sternly of denominations, authority, membership in Christ, and so on. We cannot say with any hope of accuracy that someone else is not a member of the community of Christ, that someone is beyond the redemptive and loving arms of Christ and those who would follow him. And as Jesus accepted everyone at his table, it may be fair to extend this sentiment to the world beyond the Church as well: we Christians cannot tell Muslims or Jews or Buddhists, for example, that they are not members of the body. We have no rights of exclusion from the embrace of the Spirit, and have no grounds to make such claims or distinctions. (I feel I'm treading on a universalism that is very postmodern and not just a little dangerous for doctrine and dogma.)

I am also struck by the language in verse 26, coming so close to the beloved labor mantra: An injury to one is an injury to all. The noblest sentiments of the labor movement are rooted in a radical Christianity.

And, speaking of radical Christianity, note that "forms of assistance" is counted among the gifts of the spirit, and ranked among the acts of apostles and prophets. Do those Christians who promote gifts like the speaking of tongues also recognize the gift of the spirit that manifests itself in helping other people? This is incredible! Paul is virtually declaring social justice work and compassionate action as a gift of the Holy Spirit, worthy of prophets and apostles... and you and me.

I must say that I found the closing of this scripture passage comforting. Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all teachers? No. There are different kinds of testimonies to give. Just last night, I was talking with my wife on the phone and joking about learning all this doctrine and dogma development in Christian history and how so many people took it so seriously, and for me (showing my postmodern stripes again) what these people considered essential beliefs for salvation are really not that important at all. I find myself driven, rather, by the social gospel, the vision of a new world possible, of changed relations (power, economic, social, personal, international), the imperative to creatively resist the Powers and Principalities, to stand up to oppression and forces that denigrate humanity. This is what for me is redemptive and necessary for salvation - working to transform oneself and one's world radically and creatively. This is what I feel is required to be a faithful Christian.

And that is, essentially, a prophetic testimony - social justice as the true worship of God. Apostolic witness, I imagine, is something more along the lines of getting people to declare that Jesus is Lord - change their allegiances, give them a new heart. That's important, of course. But the scripture here allows me not to have to do everything - I can recognize that some people are apostles, some teachers, some prophets (in the Old Testament sense of someone who critiques the status quo and calls the faith community to reify their faith declarations in the lived world).

And, this scripture affirms, that is a voice that also needs to be heard in the body. I can't pretend I'm not part of the body (although sometimes part of me wants to). And others can't tell me I'm not part of the body (as has happened more than once). The gospel will taste differently coming from my hand, but we're all drinking from the same spirit.

Interpreting Scripture so That They Understand

Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10

So they read from the book, from the law of God, with interpretation. They gave the sense, so that the people understood the reading.

This passage this the definitive scripture for preaching - this is the first recorded act of preaching in the Bible, and lays out the process that remains basically the same to this day. The people gathered, scripture was read, and then selected leaders among the people interpreted the passage so that the people understood. They made the book relevant to the lives and experience of those listening, so that the lessons and insight from so long ago would breathe new life amid the people

The story has specifically to do with the book of Deuteronomy, which was "discovered" buried beneath a wall in Jerusalem when the Temple was being rebuilt. It was brought to the king and read - and as the story goes, the king ordered it read to all the people, so that they might know the laws of God.

And the people, upon hearing the word of God, cried - but the priests told them not to cry: this is a joyous time, you have been given understanding, celebrate!

Oh, if only my preaching made people cry. If only hearing the word of God caused people to tremble inside themselves today - imagine if people were this moved by the word today: America would stop waging wars of aggression across the world, we would end homelessness and poverty and hunger, our justice system would become one of restorative justice rather than punitive or remunerative justice, everyone would work a little and enjoy life more. It doesn't have to be as hard as it is, people! If only the vision of what-could-be could move people to tears today. What-could-be could be.

We could say - go your way, celebrate, and send provisions for celebration to those who have nothing to celebrate with. (Look at that - social and economic justice right there, immediately following the preaching and response by the people! Social and economic justice ought to be part of our worship - do you hear this, people?!).

No wonder utopian communities have been so attractive to people over the centuries - this is a beautiful vision that captures the heart. It is something worth making real. It might be tough to bring about... but the passage ends reminding us that God is our strength... God will do all the heavy-lifting. We just need to get things squared away.

"Jesus is Lord", eh?

I Corinthians 12:1-11 (esp. v. 3)

When the writer of I Corinthians says: "...no one can say 'Jesus is Lord' except in the Holy Spirit," surely he (?) can't be absolute in this. All kinds of people might be able to utter the sounds "Jesus is Lord" without being under the influence of the Spirit. Televangelists, for example, claim this regularly, but only wish to climb on the cross so that they can be better seen by others, often trampling on the One already up there. Just a person saying "Jesus is Lord" doesn't necessarily express anything.

The author can't be literal with this - if he were, is this claim then limited to the original Greek words? Obviously not. The author must be writing about the meaning of the words. And the meaning of the words is a whole different ballgame.

What does this phrase do in an individual? We're not just talking about a person, a first-century Palestinian Jew, here. This phrase is meant to work in us or express between us a conviction greater than that a man called Joshua (Gk = Jesus) existed and was executed by the Roman Empire around 33CE. The phrase "Jesus is Lord" must express a conviction of the sovereignty of something greater than worldly powers in the world. Whatever one might mean by "Jesus" and whatever one might mean by "Lord" (and there are several possibilities for either), this phrase must confess that something in the Spirit of that ancient, young, rebellious, deeply caring man is, in fact, ruling over this world in a way that "lords" cannot. There is a Power at work in us and in our world that is far beyond the Powers That Be, beyond their control, beyond their manipulation, and not serving their needs. Nations and Leaders of all kinds will claim a hold on this Power-we-know-not-What, but the confessional of Jesus being Lord is (among other things, surely) a confession that these things (nations, presidents, armies, ideologies, denominations, money, greed, debt, lifestyles of consumption, and so on) do not have the ultimate claim on us. We pledge our allegiance to something above and beyond them, and must keep our eyes fixed on that point beyond the horizon.

And That, my friends, IS, the Holy Spirit working in us. We cannot confess that "Jesus is Lord" without making a resounding distinction between what our world tells us should be ruling our lives. When Americans say "Jesus is Lord," they are making a bold claim that flies in the face of nationalism, self-interest, labels like "terrorism" and "freedom" and "patriotism". This is a huge thing, and comes about through a Spirit of something greater working in us.

If it is possible for someone to profess Jesus is Lord without confessing this (like, for example, the televangelist), might it also be true for someone to confess this underlying conviction without professing that "Jesus is Lord"? I would think so.

Oftentimes, in fact, I think Christianity is a stumbling block to people seeking to follow Jesus. All too often, it is a community of hypocrites and self-righteousness. I've said several times to friends that they'd be better off not joining a particular denomination. But of course, that's only half true. We need each other - flawed and faulty as we are - to help learn about the Spirit. We need to practice Grace in order to learn about it more; practice forgiveness in order to learn it.

But must one finally profess "Jesus is Lord" in order to confess the Spirit in their lives? I don't know. The bulk of me says no. But there is a small portion of me that wonders if I am merely allowing myself an indulgence in saying this.

Faithful Love, Saving Justice

Pslam 36:5-10

This psalm lifts up two themes: faithful love and saving justice. ("Steadfast love" and "righteousness" in the NRSV, but I like the NJB words.) They both reach far beyond what we can fathom, past where we can see, and beyond even our imagination. Still, no matter how far we've come, no matter how much we have imagined and learned, the love and saving justice of God is there and calls us further on.

And yet, even while pulling, dragging, pushing, urging us on, on, on... faithful love meets human and animal where we are, and we can take refuge and drink from delicious streams. The dual nature of God: meeting us where we are now, and always always calling us further on our journey; comforting us where we are now and making us uncomfortable with where we are now (and drawing us into further discomfort, but comforting us there, too).

And in a verse made for process theologians: "in you is the source of life." That which animates us and opens up to creative transformation; that which expands life in us, against those forces that would diminish us and our life. We confess confidence in this we-know-not-what that brings us about as we could not have been brought about by ourselves.

And in this season of Epiphany, the bringing of the Light, the psalmist expresses the truth: by Your light we see the light. It is the source of illumination, but also the means by which we learn to see the illuminating. Maintain this faithfulness, this stick-to-it-tiveness on Your part, to those who would seek this source. And extend Your saving justice (not vengeance, not retribution; but mercy and recognition and redemption) to everyone, particularly those with an honest heart (who recognize their own shortcomings, myopias, and littleness). A-men.

Isaiah 62:1-5

In the context of "Racial Justice Sunday" and so near the celebrations of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s birthday, this scripture takes on forceful meaning. "For Zion's sake, I will not keep silent" - about injustice, about prejudice, about militarism, about nationalism. All of these themes King lived and spoke about. Our particular debt to King rests in his having put plainly before us the undeniable economic dynamics of our moral malaise. Racism is an economic proposition, too, designed and perpetuated in part to maintain economic relations in place. Injustice is an economic issue as well. Militarism and nationalism are racism writ large, and serve the same economic ends - to further enrich the wealthy, at the expense of maintaining the grinding poverty of the poor.

For the sake of Jerusalem I will not rest until her vindication shines out like the dawn. A declaration of commitment for justice activists today, and a pledge in Isaiah's day as well. Isaiah, we must remember, defined the true worship of God as defending the poor, the widow and the orphan, the stranger and foreigner. (And remember that he was speaking in the context of Israel being invaded by a brutal enemy, marching on Jerusalem itself.) For him, Jerusalem and the Temple were meant to be the center-place of worship of God - the epicenter of justice and right-treatment of others.

Isaiah was facing the imminent siege of Jerusalem. The invading Babylonians were laying waste to the countryside in their march to the holy city. And Isaiah steps back from this horrific scene of doom to say that Jerusalem will be a jewel, neither forsaken nor desolate, and that quite contrary to everyone's expectations Jerusalem will be rejoiced over by God because of her faithfulness - her treatment of the poor and lowly!

The actual fate of Jerusalem, we know from history, was more mixed - spared this time but later to fall to Babylon. But spoken on our lips, in our country, the pledge is no less poignant: we will not keep silent! We will stand up and protest and speak truth to power. We will set ourselves against the unjust actions of our nation and churches. We will rise up like lions after slumber, always before us the vision of the reign of God. We are not as naive as Isaiah was, believing that the king or president will obey God's Will in true worship, rather than serve the nationalistic, tribalistic, greedy and racist values that increase his wealth and power. The king and president serve Power. We serve God. And in God's reign there is no place for race or borders; no flags are flying in that kingdom. God serves all; so must we.

The nations will see our vindication, and we shall be called by a new name that the mouth of the Lord will give. There is yet no name to describe the citizens of this new kingdom, the kingdom of God, of Zion. We are yet indescribable, indefinite, beyond any label or category. We will be given a new name.

Let's work to be worthy of the new name, the new kingdom, the new world. Keep salvation burning like a torch, setting fire to pyres of injustice and inequality. And, of course, that means that something will have to burn before the day is done.

May God Bless All People with Peace

Psalm 29

This psalm speaks of the power, violence even, of God. It seems to lift up the pairing of violence with glory, power-over with holy splendor. It reads at first like a advertisement for the latest artillery: thundering, flashing with flames of fire, shaking the wilderness, breaking the mighty cedars of Lebanon, causing oaks to whirl and forests to be stripped bare. It is almost frightening in its cadence and persistence. It is somewhat as if a ten-year old boy wrote down his fantasy god: lots of explosions and destruction; unbridled, unmatched and unrelenting power ripping through the world (naively not mentioning or considering the suffering all this might cause people or animals).

But for all that, the last word is peace. This song of power and destruction ends with the affirmation of peace. Whatever else God's word seems to be, the psalm seems to say, in the final analysis it is peace.

Reading through again, we might find a different theme rising up. The voice of God over the waters (v 3), like Genesis 1:2, is an ordering principle bringing order out of chaos, bringing formation out of unformed existence. Even when the Lord sits enthroned over the flood (v 10), the flood being an event of unmatched destruction and suffering, it was an act aimed at redemption and peace - a price too terrible to be paid again, as even God would afterwards admit.

The cedars of Lebanon, broken by God's voice, reveal that the strongest of powers - either physical strength like cedar beams (v 5) or political strength like Lebanon and Sirion (v 6) - crumble beneath God's word. God does not want us servile to political or psychological Powers any more than we would be servile to beams of strong wood. The psalm reminds us of the true power, true authority, the true source and object of our allegiance. And those places of wilderness (v 8) where we believe we are beyond God's work or word - there the timbre of God's voice can yet be felt.

And the Voice that causes the "oaks to whirl" (v 9) is also the voice that "causes the deer to calve" (alternate interpretation of verse 9). We oftentimes read into God's presence and activity that which we want to see, or that which we expect. Since leaders and kings and warriors are the ones whose stories are told over and over, we expect God to resemble these figures. But God's creative activity persists. Those who want a warrior god will have it regardless, but God's activity will all the while be working behind the scenes bringing forth new life.

And while through it all it may be difficult to discern the activity of God, the song ends in the confidence that God's word is peace.

Faithfulness

Isaiah 43:1-7 (esp. 1-2)

The connection, presumably, to the other lectionary texts this week is the mention of water (which can be interpreted to refer to baptism, specifically the baptism of Jesus by John in the Jordan). There is an irony here, though, since in this Isaiah passage the waters are a threat and danger against which God protects the faithful. God's promise in Isaiah, however, is companionship through the waters and fires - the same promise made by Jesus in leaving the Paraclete, "the one who walks beside", or the Spirit.

There is another parallel here with the Paraclete: redemption. The way "redeemed" is used has legal and economic implications - as if there is a debt or suit against someone, and another advocates for that person and perhaps assumes the debt or pays the suit in that person's stead. Paraclete has that same nuance of "advocate" as well as comforter.

Another part of this scripture is important: the command "Do not fear." Isaiah is just coming off a long list of charges against Israel, criticisms and chastisements. And yet, he can turn right around and in that same spirit of God speak words of consolation. You have failed, Israel, you have been unfaithful; but don't be afraid, I haven't given up on you. No matter what happens, I will be with you.

Such faithfulness, even if it is onesided, is beautiful (and anti-semitic Christians would do well to remember the pledges of God on Israel's behalf).

Confirmation of the Holy Spirit

Acts 8:14-17

That the lectionary selection stops at verse seventeen kills me. Verses eighteen to twenty-four talk about the role of money and wealth in gaining the the powers of the Holy Spirit, specifically the assumption of the rich that they can buy such blessing without any true conversion. But perhaps my blood boils too easily, too quickly, at such verses, and the limits of this week's lectionary can focus me and minister to my resistant heart.

Two things jump out at me. First, that the Samaritans were converted before Peter and John got there - indicating that some first-contact missionary was sent or had arrived among them, and that Peter and John arrived to confirm the conversion and status of the new adherents to their Jewish Jesus-movement. Second, that this must be the origin of the Christian rite of Confirmation. First comes Baptism, and then comes Confirmation of the Holy Spirit.

That these early Christians (although they weren't called that yet at the point when this story takes place) still needed education and to be brought further along in their faith, even after baptism, is a good sign to us who would claim the fullness of the gospel descending all at once. Humans are stubborn creatures, and our wills and understandings and beliefs may change quickly sometimes, but even then there are hold-outs, carry-overs, the residue of our former minds and hearts. It is easy to change the clothes we wear, but more difficult to change what those clothes are put over. Peter and John arrive to help in that process.

Also, the prayer the apostles give involves laying on of hands. Growing the Holy Spirit in someone requires physical contact. We are intellectual beings, and emotional beings, but we are also embodied beings. The prayer Peter and John give reflects all these realities. And it reminds us that we must reach out physically, as well as metaphorically, to those whom we would help gain the Spirit.

John's Expections and Jesus' Baptism

A Sense of Divine Mission and Approval
Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

This passage picks up at the end of the lectionary texts from two weeks ago (Dec. 14 & 15), and as such acts virtually as "part three" in repeated coverage. But I suppose that's the thing about scripture: we keep coming back to it, looking at it again and again.

This is still the story of John - he has whipped up people into a frenzied excitement; they are eager to see and work toward an in-breaking of the reign of God, and they look to him for leadership. Wisely, John demurs, and explains that he is merely starting us on the journey, preparing us for the work, that there will be a leader who will demand and guide us to greater things. John is taking the role of the prophet - declaring his sense of God's Will but not taking the responsibility away from the people themselves to answer that call or not, nor to what degree or what kind of answer they will make. John will not accept the hope and expectation they project on him. One way he does this is by anticipating another leader who will be worthy of their confidence and allegiance.

But this is the story of John's expectations for Jesus, too. John declares that Jesus will baptize with the Spirit and fire - Jesus will take the kindling spirits of those John has sparked and set them on fire. You think you're excited now? John seems to be saying. You think you're ready to work for the Kingdom of God now? You think I have a sense of what this new world can be? Wait until you meet Jesus - he's gonna blow you away.

John immediately sets into a work-metaphor: winnowing and harvest (anyone who's forked hay before knows that this is long, hard work - not for the faint of heart or weak of will). This is important. John is communicating right from the get-go that this in-breaking of the reign of God is going to mean hard work for a lot of people. This isn't some return to Eden where everyone is happy all the time and no one works for their food or medical care. This is going to be work, actual work, not just "spiritual" work - but it will be work worth the effort.

John then descends into rough judgment language - pursuing the metaphor too far, in my mind: gathering the wheat is a good image, but burning the chaff with unquenchable fire seems excessive. John is an apocalyptic thinker, remember; he isn't the Messiah and doesn't even claim himself to have a full grasp on the love and dynamics of God's revelation-to-come. (Does one even burn chaff? I thought chaff just blew away in the wind when winnowing in the old style. This may give us a clue as to John's excessive language. And when winnowing, it isn't as if the harvester has any ill-feelings toward the chaff - it's just part of the work to bring in the harvest, not an object of loathing upon which to wreak vengeance. A more appropriate use of the metaphor would have been if the chaff is just let go of... but that wouldn't quite have the sharpness that John was after.) John was also trying to captivate his audience, keep them waiting for something indefinite and uncertain (however glorious). We all have seen how fear captivates people's hearts and minds, especially when directed at some unknown fate. Fear of horrific judgment keeps people in line (at least in the short run), and this may be a strategy of John's to capture the attention and loyalty of his listeners. The baptismal scene of Jesus doesn't carry any of this judgmental tone - and in fact, if anything, seems a loving contrast to John's vindictiveness.

In this baptismal scene, I can understand how "adoptionists" could imagine that Jesus was "adopted" by God and made God's son, not born God's son. It is too bad this interpretation was declared (and violently enforced) as heretical, because it seems a lovely way to represent God's relationship with all humanity: each person, any one of us could be the adopted child of God, so we shouldn't treat anyone with disrespect or unkindness. (Another chit for adoptionist heresy is the footnote: "Other ancient authorities read You are my Son, today I have begotten you.")

It is important that the heavens opened and that Jesus was beloved and approved of before his work began. Similarly, when we are baptized, we are beloved and approved of, God's spirit descends on us, before we're worthy of any such confidence. We just declare our intention, our will to bring about Zion, and God is pleased. We still have the work to do, but we don't have to prove ourselves or earn the affection or approval of God. Picking up our own winnowing fork is a first and glorious step, and the heavens open up and we can hear the voice of Creativity and Love encouraging us, urging us on.

Now, that's confirmation!