The First Sunday of Lent (Year B, RCL)
March 1, 2009
The Reverend Paul R. Abernathy, Rector
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It has been said that the two most significant days in one’s life are the day one is born and the day one knows why one was born. In Christian
circles, the story of Jesus’ baptism[1] is accorded particular significance as that “moment” when he knew not only
who he was, but why he was. The declaration of the voice from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased,” echoed the
generations-old servant song from Isaiah.[2] That prophetic poem that spoke of the mission of God’s chosen,
spirit-filled servant to bring justice to the nations through merciful perseverance, not unbridled power, through faithful persuasion,
not unprincipled coercion. As we read the Jesus story, particularly the last chapter of his journey to Jerusalem, which is the focus of
Lent, so it seems that Jesus drew from this gracious word of the vox Deus his understanding of his calling. He would challenge the
authorities to give justice to the people; a challenge issued not with violence, but by the virtuous example of his love. And in the end,
he would love his calling to death – his own.
In visualizing this scenario – Jesus at his baptism, coming up out of the Jordan River, soaking wet, blinking and wiping the water from his eyes,
seeing clearly perhaps for the first time who, what, and why he was – I was given to contemplate and, therefore, to put before us this day whether
there is any calling for which we would die. That seemed a significantly sober and weighty reflection to inaugurate our Lenten season.
However, on second thought, I have decided to ask: What is the calling?
No doubt, this occurs to me because this is precisely where I find myself these days. Wondering afresh, hungering anew for clarity about my calling.
Now, in my 31st year as a priest and, on June 8, my 57th birthday, I know that I am farther from the beginning and nearer the end of active
ministry. I am farther from the Jordan River and closer to Jerusalem. Also, now, two years after returning from my sabbatical, I still struggle
from time to time, unsure of how to fit me, how to put me – with my transformed, continually evolving vision of carrying out love and justice
in the world through the church – back into the parochial boundaries of our life at St. Mark’s. As I ask myself almost daily – What is my
calling? – so I ask you.
In the midst of my questioning – long having earnestly desired, but largely having dispensed with my wishful thinking that one morning I would
rise from the bath or step out of the shower, soaking wet, blinking and wiping the water from my eyes, and seeing clearly who, what, and why I
am – on third thought, it occurs to me that perhaps the most we can know for sure is how we arrive at an awareness of our calling. On
this score, there are at least three biblical broad-brush models…
Some are given to an experience like that of Jesus at his baptism and perhaps, too, his wilderness temptations or Moses at the burning
bush.[3] A voice or vision, seemingly from without, is heard or beheld within. Sometimes the voice is audible and
the vision external. Sometimes the voice speaks through the murmur of conscience and the vision in the kaleidoscopic images of our dreams. But
however the call manifests, it comes to us.
Others share the experience of Samuel who, hearing the voice of God, thought Eli was calling. And Eli, the old and wise priest, who, perceiving
that God was calling, said to Samuel, “If the voice comes again, you shall say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is
listening.’”[4] Sometimes it is a trusted friend, mentor, colleague, teacher, or therapist who can help us translate
a word that we have received so to make sense of it.
Still others know the experience of the disciples after Jesus’ crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension. They, seeking to find a successor to
Judas Iscariot and having established a rule that it must be one who had known Jesus during his earthly ministry, then prayed together and cast
lots, the choice falling on Matthias.[5] Sometimes it takes a group, a committee, a village to discern both the
outlines and the process for making a determination.
And sometimes, for each of us, we discern, come to know something by all of these means – we dream, we seek the counsel of a valued advisor,
and we join with others in prayer and action. Again, my point is this – oft times, it is hard to know what our calling is and perhaps the
most, the best we can know is how we come to know.
How I would love to have an experience like that of Jesus’ baptism! I would love to hear a voice from heaven break through the clouds of my
confusion and consternation, saying, “This is it!” or if I am about to act in error, saying, “That’s not it!”
But perhaps knowing the sort of experience I’d like to have – whether it does or even can happen – is, in part, the point of wrestling with my
calling. For it’s all about showing up, being present with myself, and then shutting up and listening. And that I do know, for me, is the
purpose of Lent.
[1] The gospel passage appointed for the day is Mark 1.9-15.
