JESUS IN THE TEMPLE

Yesterday, my son announced on Facebook that he has been officially approved for the next step in his ordination process by his Methodist District Committee on Ministries - unanimously. This is a big deal. As a Methodist candidate, Dan can do all that he can do but still, as a Methodist, other people are responsible for determining his adequacy for ministry in the church.

I could have told them he is ready. I could have told them that he has spent his entire life getting ready. I could have told them about his compassion, his empathy, his fearlessness in living ‘the Jesus life’. I could have, but wouldn’t have, told them that I, too, have been working on getting ready nearly all his life, raising him in a way that might mean he would take things on that might make me just a little bit afraid.

When he was small, I made a bracelet with beautiful beads and beads with the initials WWMD. I somehow felt I NEEDED to do this but did not know why. I did know that 'M' stood for Mary. But as I raised my own son, I often reflected on just how hard it might have been for Mary, Jesus’ mother, to raise a son she knew, according to the circumstances of her pregnancy (as told by Luke 1:26-38), was someone super special. She had been given a unique heads up that she had been chosen for an extraordinary assignment to raise, love and protect Jesus with all her skill and determination. 

And yet even with all that great parenting, and as most of us that were brought up in some sort of Abrahamic faith already knows, Jesus struck out on his own at 12 years old, leaving his parents’ traveling group without their permission, to spend several days learning from the Rabbis in the Temple (Luke 2:41-52). At twelve, Jesus was right on the cusp of being considered fully capable of understanding his spiritual obligations as a Hebrew. Shortly, he would be considered a man.

Still, I often wonder how Mary felt at the moment she knew Jesus was not with her group. When I visualize that moment, I think her thoughts might have been something like this. “Darn that Jesus. He is always trying to push the limits. He is always trying to take on more than I think he is ready for. He’s a bright, capable boy. He probably got caught up in something he felt was important. I just know he’s okay. I don’t need to worry. He’s GOT to be okay. Is he okay?”

I think, already, in her heart of hearts, she knew. She knew he had a destiny that might be filled with great joy and great trauma. And, I’m certain, her heart was sometimes heavy in this knowing. And the Bible verse curiously leaves out any mention of Jesus’ punishment. I personally don’t think there was any and I think at the moment Mary saw her beloved child with the Rabbis her heart pounded with both pride and sorrow. How could she punish, especially after Jesus spoke of his Father’s work? I think this Biblical moment must have carried much clarity for Mary. And I feel for her every time I think of this story.

I, too, have often feel blessed and sometimes a little irritated that I was chosen to raise my own challenging son. As I raised him, I wore my WWMD bracelet and rolled the beads around on occasion of some dissonance in our relatationship.  When I thought he might be getting off track or when I was very angry with him, I asked ‘What Would Mary Do?’. When he sorrowfully and deeply anguished because something was not at all right with his world, I asked ‘What Would Mary Do?’. With my heart in my throat while I was dropping Dan off for his first solo trip to Europe by himself at the tender age of 18, I asked ‘What Would Mary Do?’.  

Mary was my soulmate as I raised this special son. I tried, as I am certain Mary did for Jesus, to help him find ways to exercise his wings so they would be strong enough to fly straight and true according to his own flight plan.

I can’t say I was happy that his flight plan included becoming a minister. Ministers have to help their congregants face all kinds of sad times – deaths, divorces, illness, addictions - as I told him when he first told me he was set on going to seminary. Ministry is not all babies and baptisms. No indeed.

But yesterday, Daniel’s ‘Rabbis’ spoke with their favorable votes. They have recognized his Call as I have and have accepted him into their rather elite company-those men and women who take up the mantle with the intention to walk the walk of Jesus. And, let's face it, Jesus, the Jesus of Jesus Christ Superstar and the Bible, is a very tough act to follow.

TRANSFIGURATION

My son, the minister-to-be, is a sharer. He’s also a thinker, the type that reads then rereads specific Bible texts, to squeeze out one more revelation. A benefit of living in Washington DC and so close to the National Cathedral, my son also goes to Eucharist about three times a week, walking at least part of the way. Upon the convergence of these events, he often calls me so he can unpack his latest revelation.

This morning’s revelation was about the Transfiguration (Luke 9:28-14:25, Matthew 17:1-8.1), the event that Christians see as proof that this human Jesus was also the Son of God. Somehow man but somehow God, too. No longer Prophet but Divine.

 

Dan reminded me of the essential elements of the passage – Jesus, Moses and Elijah on a mountain. Peter, James and John nearby, weary and sleepy, suddenly awake to the brightness, the glow surrounding Jesus which enfolds Moses and Elijah as well. Peter, Jesus’ official Doer, immediately suggesting that the three disciples start building shelters for the Prophets and Jesus. Suddenly, while Peter is still speaking, God’s booming voice is heard, saying this Man they have known is truly his Son. Then God’s voice says “Listen to him.”

Up to his last reading of these passages, Dan has focused, like so many before him, on God’s first words. “This is my Son of who I am well-pleased.” This time, his reading provided different insights. Both Matthew and Luke’s passages relate that God interrupted Peter, a nonverbal instruction to “shush” which God reinforces with the command “Listen to Him.”

Dan was particularly excited about his insight that God had specifically instructed Peter, Jesus’s Doer, to listen. To stop doing and start listening, Dan believes, is powerful lesson for Peter as he begins Jesus’ assignment to build his church. Listen, God instructed. For Dan, this insight was rife with possible sermons. Me, a Taoist - I concentrated on how much God’s instruction sounded like meditating.

Meditating is central to Taoism because staying in the Tao requires a constant examination of one’s actions and thoughts to see if one is moving further away or closer to the Tao. Being with Tao is an almost impossible task unless you are a yogi sitting on a mountain doing nothing but meditating. When people are involved, you can bet there is quite a bit of movement away from Tao. But Taoist have to figure out for themselves if their interactions are moving them closer or further away from Tao and this clarification is often most available through meditation.

It seems to me that God’s commandment to Peter, the ‘doingest’ of the Disciples, is both a blueprint for pondering the imponderable fact of Jesus’ death plus a reassurance that Jesus would continue to speak to Peter even though Jesus was on his way to the Christian equivalent of Valhalla. No small reassurance since Peter would soon have to rally the troops and implement the next steps of Jesus’ instructions at the Last Supper.

Peter’s mind must have been wildly wandering as he contemplated his next tasks. As a doer, he was better suited to making lists than ‘coaxing his mind’ from its wondering what to do next. Stephen Mitchell’s interpretation of Verse 10 of the Te Ching offers advice not dissimilar to God’s, “Can you coax your mind from its wandering and keep to the original oneness? …Can you cleanse your inner vision until you see nothing but the light?”  And surely, Peter’s attention was held by this ‘Shining Light’ named Jesus.

When I seek the essence of the Tao, I find it very useful to clear my monkey mind and envision a candlelight or glowing ball in order to open my mind to knowing the essence of Tao. I think this is much the same task God asks of Peter on the mountain and much the way Peter would have understood that God’s command was no longer of  an earthly realm but rather one of Spirit. The intersections of different faith traditions always interests me and the question of how to follow God’s instructions to Peter or to find the essence of Tao do not seem to be too different. 

Honestly, it really does sound like listening is the answer.

ELIJAH

The other night, I found myself around a table with other Believers (not all of them were Christian and most certainly not Taoist) discussing those moments where we literally felt closest to ‘God’. Before we get too distracted, I know you want to know what a Taoist was doing in a Christian ‘Bible Study’ group. A quick answer is that I often read spiritual texts of other faith traditions and usually attend Sunday services at a Methodist Church simply because my understanding of Taoism does not prohibit me from exploring aspects of my own faith through the religious concepts and texts of other Eastern or Western religions.

In my view, God is just another name for Tao but crafted by early church leaders with skin and bones because the concept of a God that we can’t recognize from our own experience is difficult to grasp. For Taoists, we already accept that describing the Tao is impossible. But I am willing to consider that living the Tao, feeling close to that which I call my River of Serenity, can be compared with the experience described in the Hebrew Scriptures of Elijah as he ascended to the heavens into the arms of Yahweh. My Christian Pastor, Jim, calls those moments ‘Elijah moments’, moments we realize we are part of something much greater than ourselves, bringing us closer and closer to the Oneness Christians name God.

As we went round the table sharing our Elijah moments, I was reminded of a particular moment I had sometime last week as I caught up on Facebook. My son’s recent posts reflect the struggles he has had with what he considers very unChristian actions taking place all over the country as families and faith communities are torn apart and deportations of undocumented members of family and faith communities continue under the new administration. My son Daniel's post shared an article on one particularly heart-wrenching action which removed a parent from a family, the American-born children left without that parent’s guidance for perhaps forever as the parent was deported. Above the news article were three simple words ‘Lord have Mercy’’. Three very simple words that struck me with more impact than ever before.

I grew up in Missouri. I would often hear phrases like ‘Lord have Mercy’ or ‘Oh my God’ as a response to finding a snake in the basement window ell or a cockroach under the sink. They were an exclamation of distaste, a recitation without meaning, not really a request or even a preface to one. They were like the 10 Hail Marys and 10 Our Fathers I was routinely assigned to atone for my ‘sins’ in Catholic grade school. I was told that if I recited all 20 of these fixed verbalizations, my soul would be wiped clean. Kind of like if you brushed your teeth you certainly would have fewer cavities. I used to time myself during these recitations. Once I had it down to three minutes for all 20 recitations. To my young soul, it was the recitation that mattered. Otherwise, surely the priest would think of some other things I should do for atonement. Healing the sick, feeding the hungry – stuff that might actually make me a better person.

‘Lord have mercy’ has been part of the Christian Mass and services for so long, I think it, too, has become a recitation. This time, though, even though no words were actually spoken, in my head I clearly heard my son asking his God for guidance, for comfort in the gathering fear and chaos, for clarity on how the chaos could move him forward in his journey to his own River Jordan. This time, I clearly heard a prayer. And at that moment, after several days of feeling out of sync with the Tao, I felt myself move closer to my own River of Serenity. At that moment, my own son had become my Elijah, my opening to Oneness.

I figured out a long time ago that my role as a Teacher of Spirit had been far surpassed by my son’s growing faith and willingness to live that faith. The Student has become the Teacher and the Teacher has become the Student. And last week, I felt myself repeating those simple words, this time laden with meaning. “Lord have mercy. Lord have mercy on us all.”