Beloved Child of God
By: The Rev. Brenda Sol
Over New Year’s, I was telling one of my nieces about our fabulous Nativity Pageant, and how one of Gigi’s twin granddaughters played the Baby Jesus. As I describe, “Violet and her understudy, Delila,” my niece interrupted with a grin: “I just LOVE names!” And I had to agree. I love names, too!
In fact, my last name, Sol, is a name I picked for myself about 30 years ago, after my short-lived marriage. I had studied cultures, in which people new names during different stages of their lives, so I wanted a name that represented the light-filled way I hoped to live moving forward. And, as you probably know, “sol” means sun in Spanish.
Around that same time, I chose names for my cats based on my intentions for them. I may have mentioned this before…Eleos was named after the Greek goddess of mercy and compassion (unfortunately, he was neither merciful nor compassionate!). And Samkhat was inspired by the goddess of joy and happiness. Several years ago, I was explaining their names to some new friends at a party, when one guy joked: “That’s precisely why I don’t have pets. I might accidentally name one of them something that means: ‘God of furniture destruction!’”
Names can be very important. We like it when someone remembers our name (usually). But I'm sure you've all had the opposite experience. When somebody didn't remember your name—or maybe they didn’t even know your name—and, yet, the connection was undeniably strong. I most often experience this with younger children. I remember bouncing one of my friend’s little girls on my knee at a long event. We had probably been playing, laughing and singing songs together for over an hour, when she finally asked, “So, what's your name again?”
In those moments, names don’t matter. The connection and sense of belonging is what’s important. Our scripture passages this morning, are full of this kind of belonging. In fact, in our reading from Isaiah, we are told that we have been given God's name. The verses read: “Bring my sons from far away and my daughters from the end of the earth—everyone who is called by my name, whom I created for my glory, whom I formed and made."
This deep sense of belonging to God is reiterated in this morning’s Gospel. God doesn’t refer to Jesus by a name, rather God names Jesus, God’s beloved child. That’s what happens in baptism—those around us watch as we are formally welcomed into God’s family. So, when I do baptismal preparation classes, I remind parents that we don’t use the child’s surname in the baptismal ceremony, because, on that day, the child is given the family name of God.
All last month, we talked about waiting for the coming of the Christ-child, then we celebrated the birth of Jesus, and, finally, last week we observed Epiphany, when the announcement of that birth was shared widely, out in the world. Today, we jump ahead in the life of Jesus, to when he himself was baptized.
We learn that John, who was the cousin of Jesus, has been baptizing people for a while. John explains to folks that if they want to have a fresh start, they can promise to try changing their bad habits, and be baptized in water, as a way to be reminded that, through God, they are washed clean.
On this particular day, Jesus comes along, and notices all the people who are sorry for the ways they’ve been living. They are committing to do their best to be better, kinder people, and he wants them to remember that the reason he was sent by God to earth, was that God loved them, so Jesus decides to be baptized also.
It is said that “Jesus was without sin”, so, technically, he didn’t really need to be baptized, but his decision to do so is just one more example of Jesus’s solidarity with humanity. Plus, even though he was without sin, it’s like we claim in our weekly confession, there was sin around him—even if he wasn’t sinning, his humanity was connected to sin.
In waiting till everyone else is baptized, Jesus once again demonstrates that we are equals, and that his baptism doesn’t take priority over ours. In his ongoing commitment to non-hierarchical systems, Jesus teaches us through his actions, how we ought live our lives.
And there’s another important teaching detail in this passage from Luke. God’s pronouncement—God’s welcoming of Jesus into God’s family—doesn’t happen in the moment that Jesus is baptized. Rather, first, Jesus prays. As he prays—in the silence—God’s voice is heard: "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased." We, too, are to pray in response to our liturgical actions—as we receive communion, as we listen to Scripture, as we share the peace with each other—we pray, and listen for God.
Now, we all know, God’s not always so clear in God’s communication. I came across a quote from St. John of the Cross the other day, who said, “Silence is God’s first language.” Which is why it’s important to remember that prayer is a two-way endeavor. We speak to God, and we listen for God. And it takes some training to help our minds “hear” God more clearly.
Let me give you an example. Last week I read an excerpt from a book called, When God Talks Back. As I understand it, the author studied a large evangelical church in Chicago for a couple of years. As an anthropologist, she wanted to understand how it is that people come to deep faith, in the midst of such a skeptical world.
After attending Sunday School, Bible studies, and prayer groups for those two years, she said she came to realize that Church helps people to “use their minds differently than they do in everyday life.”[1] At the end of her study, she commented, “I have said that I do not presume to know ultimate reality. But it is also true that through the process of this journey, in my own way, I have come to know God.”
As I’ve said before, our spiritual journey is a “practice”, so, in this case, we have to practice listening for God. One way to do that is to use a key phrase to help yourself focus. This morning, we’re going to try that out by repeating the phrase Jesus heard: “You are my child, my beloved. With you I am well pleased," because God voiced it in a way that everyone around could hear. Jesus isn’t the only child of God.
We, too are God’s beloved, so this will be an affirmation of sorts, as we repeat the phrase over and over in our minds, taking in that each of are also God’s beloved. We might not actually “hear” God’s voice, but by repeating: “You are my child, my beloved. With you I am well pleased," over and over, we are affirming what we say we believe, and, as that author said, “we will come to know God better.
In the next minute or two of silence, after I repeat that phrase, and you let the words wash over you, you’ll continue to repeat the phrase in your own heart. I’ll wrap that time up by saying “Amen.” You might want to close your eyes, put both feet firmly on the floor, gently rest your open hands in your lap, and take some deep, gentle belly breaths.
“You are my child, my beloved. With you I am well pleased."
If, at some point, you realize you’ve become lost in other thoughts, gently bring yourself back to focus by repeating again: “You are my child, my beloved. With you I am well pleased."
“You are my child, my beloved. With you I am well pleased."
[SILENCE]
Amen.
I’ll leave you with another quote. This one is from Teresa of Avila. During part of my upcoming sabbatical, which will be late April to mid-July, I’ll be on a pilgrimage that focuses on St. John and St. Teresa, so you’ll probably be hearing quite a bit about them in the weeks to come. Teresa said this:
“May you be content knowing you are a child of God. Let this presence settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise, and love. [God’s presence] It is there for each and every one of us.”
—AMEN
[1] Tanya Luhrmann
