Lent II
Take up your cross.
Jesus encourages - challenges? - disciples to do this in today's reading from Mark's Gospel. What does this mean? Many things, over time, and in different situations. 'We all have a cross to bear,' used to be a common phrase in our culture(s) to indicate a common suffering, common to the human condition. Jesus links it to broader ideas: deny yourself! Set your mind on heavenly things! Lose yourself for my sake and the sake of the good news we proclaim, and you will actually find your life-worth-living.
Seek to hold tightly to that which does not last, and which is impermanent, and you will lose it anyway, and part of yourself in the bargain.
What is 'myself' to lose? To gain? Is this only an ascetic's journey, a shedding of impermanent things? Certainly, this is one way to approach the spiritual journey, and particularly in Lent - shedding the things that do not give life, seeking heavenly things, offering it all to God as we follow Jesus in the self-giving way of the cross...
The reading from Genesis, though, has me thinking in a slightly different direction -- linked, to be sure, but different. It's the old story of the matriarchs and patriarchs, Sarai and Avram, who are visited by strangers in their nomadic tents, and entertain angels (messengers of God) unawares.
This earlier dialogue, though, is clearly with God -- identified as El Shaddai in the text. (The One God nevertheless had had several names, and this name means generally The God Almighty.) God has come to make a covenant with Avram and Sarai, to enter into a particular relationship with them and their descendants. They have done nothing to make this bargain with God happen... but they are to be made new. Fertile, even in their old age, and have many descendants.
There's a lot to the story of Sarai and Avram -- strange tales of wandering, deceptions, destructions, banishments, prophecies, bargainings... -- but if you're wondering why I keep referring to them as Avram and Sarai, it's because the primary thing that happens in the excerpt we read this Sunday is that God changes their names for them, as a sign of this new relationship and its promises.
Taking on a new name is an old practice -- at Confirmation, in our tradition, sometimes. At marriage, perhaps, whatever your gender. At birth someone gives you a new name (Baby X will only get you so far). Some old customs would give a new or temporary name to the very ill, the thinking being that one might thereby fool death.
As a sign -- or perhaps a fruit -- of this new relationship, this covenant, God makes Avram into Avraham (Abraham, anglicized) and Sarai into Sarah. I won't pretend to be a Hebrew scholar, but from what I've been reading, Sarai - 'a woman of high rank, a princess' - becomes 'my princess,' Sarah. The 'H(uh)' indicates possession, and what's more, the letter in Hebrew is the one generally used to indicate the divine presence/being -- this name of God is simply 'The Name' (HaShem).
It's the same with Avram -- high (fore)father: He becomes Avra(ha)m -- the high father of The Name -- God's possession.
They both have the divine presence inserted into their very names, as into their very beings. Whatever this covenant relationship with the Divine Reality, the one Name, the Lord Almighty might be, it is intimate. God promises to be as close as your being, your self, your breath, and to re-make you.
So, preach the Good news of the kingdom of God, now, among us! Lose your built-up 'self' for the sake of this daily proclamation of Truth in word and deed, for your true self is bound up with God, who is present in your very being, and in whom you live, and move, and have your Being. Lose yourself; God will still breathe in you. In so doing, you will find your life. Daily.
What new name do you give this place within where divine presence is known, and is transforming, even if only in silence? What new name does God give you? That name might be a useful reminder, a tool, to recall you to your identity and task. The name 'Christian' simply means one who follows Christ, or one who has taken on Christ. Or, in another sense, it means, 'little Christ.' In this little-christ-ness (who we are to one another, bearers of Christ) is true identity, welling up like a spring in the desert -- like the one that kept poor Hagar, Avram's other consort, alive. But, that's another story...