January 8, 2012 – The Spirit of Ecstasy
Phil Blackwell
“The Spirit of Ecstasy”
Mark 1:4-11
I stopped in for a cup of coffee, and ran into a spiritualist. She was standing at the counter with a pendulum swinging back and forth over her upstretched palm while she talked to the young man brewing the coffee. He said to her, “Is there anything in the Bible that says that the world will end in 2012?”
I decided not to jump in; she did. Still swinging her pendulum, she said, “We’ve outlived most biblical prophesies ever since we made it through 11/11/11. But then, there is that Mayan calendar that focuses on December 21, 2012.” And I thought, “My birthday! Maybe people should hold off buying me any presents until we see how it all works out. But then, the Mayan Empire collapsed in the 9th Century and any vestiges were wiped away when the Spanish landed. The Mayans evidentially were not able to anticipate their own end, much less yours and mine.” But, I remained silent and sipped my coffee.
Some day in the future, maybe millions or billions of years from now, someone may be right; the world might come to an end. And that “someone” will irritate us by saying, “I told you so!” But it is unlikely to be a Mayan.
This is the danger when we begin to talk about spiritual things, that it quickly can be transposed into crystals, palm readings, séances, fortune-telling, and the like. I am an agnostic; I know nothing about those things. But, I admit that the “Holy Spirit” can sound eerie, and to use the older term of “Holy Ghost” can make it downright spooky. So, let us engage in a bit of de-mystification this morning as we consider the appearance of the Holy Spirit at Jesus’ baptism, rescuing spiritual things from the realm of the occult and bizarre and placing them into a Christian context.
The work of the Holy Spirit, of God’s Spirit, is to animate us, to make us come alive. The Christian faith is not only about God the creator who worked wonders in the beginning. It is not only the story of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ which calls us to believe. The Christian faith is about you and me today, right now, and what gives us life, and that “what” we call the Holy Spirit.
“Ecstasy,” people sometimes imagine a spiritual moment as being ecstatic, something mysterious, transporting us to another world. Perhaps it can be so, but not necessarily so. Let us bring it back into our own world of daily living — of families, and work, and health, and mortgages. Think of the word itself, “ecstatic” – “ec” really being “ex,” “out of,” and “stasis,” “motionless, unmoving.” That which is “ecstatic” is that which moves us out of a static state toward what is merciful, right, true, just, and loving. The work of the Holy Spirit is to get us unstuck and on the road toward living a meaningful and fulfilling life. It is a spirit of confirmation that we are headed in the right direction.
A down-to-earth example of the work of the Holy Spirit. My father died a few weeks before Easter in 1994. Gene Winkler graciously had invited me to preach here at the Chicago Temple on the Wednesday of Holy Week, which I did right after Dad died. And then, it was on to Passion Sunday, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday, an all-consuming period for those who work in the church. I remember that Easter Sunday quietly giving thanks for Dad’s life in the midst of the celebration of Christ’s Resurrection.
But I really did not begin to grieve his death until the next Sunday at a most unexpected moment. We were singing a hymn of which I am not very fond. (I sometimes pick hymns that are not my favorites.) It is the Easter hymn with the refrain, “Up from the grave he arose . . .” Maybe I have trouble taking it seriously because we as kids would always sing, “Up from the grave he arose . . . there he goes!”
So, as I stood with the congregation and sang this hymn that does not inspire me, suddenly I was sobbing. Out of nowhere the enormity of Dad’s death overpowered me. I was moved to tears of grief, and it was such a purging relief . . . to let go of all I was holding within me. To this day I believe that it was God’s Spirit doing an “end run” around all of my filters and defenses and getting me unstuck so that I could move forward in my life. I still do not like that hymn very much, though there is a congregation out there who thinks that it must be one of my favorites. “Did you see how he cried when we sang it?”
The Holy Spirit often works through music. It is a way by which what really matters subverts our analytical shields to animate our emotions. It is not always the same music at the same moment for everyone, but I suspect that the Spirit of God moved many of us on Christmas Eve when we sing “Silent Night” a capella by candlelight. The Czech Christmas Mass, another astounding moment in which the Holy Spirit moved people toward a deeper appreciation for life offered in Jesus Christ. It was not just a concert but a religious awakening. A choral anthem, an organ postlude, strings, woodwinds, bells – worship ultimately is not a matter of explaining the faith but of experiencing it, and music is the language God uses to speak to our hearts.
The Holy Spirit was at work here last Saturday when the Rev. Wendy Witt conducted a wedding. Wendy, this is your story to tell when it is fitting, but let me share the moving moment, the ecstatic moment when the mothers of the bride and groom embraced each other after the ceremony. This was a cross-cultural marriage of sorts, and there was not universal approval from the families. There was talk of a boycott. But all family members showed up, and through the liturgy led by Wendy, the Holy Spirit circumvented all prejudices and fears to bring reconciliation. That is the confirming spirit of God that can move life forward.
And again . . . Rocky Clark died on Thursday. Rocky was the young man who had suffered a paralyzing injury playing high school football eleven years ago. For ten years he was supported by adequate insurance coverage and expert health care so that he could graduate with his high school class, take a few college courses, give inspirational talks to other young adults, and write poetry. It also allowed his mother to work as a nurse.
All of that came to an end last year when the insurance company told Rocky and Annette that he had outlived their calculations, and the company no longer would pay for his medical care. Rocky got worse, Annette had to give up her job, and they almost lost their house if it had not been for some very Good Samaritans.
When he died Thursday at his side were Claude and Denise, our Rev. Claude and his wife, both of whom shared with us Rocky’s life and now his death. The Spirit of God was present to Rocky as Claude offered a prayer at 5:50 p.m. on Thursday, the moment he died. Surrounding him as he lay in his hospital bed were those whose love had moved him so far and, as Claude put it, now moved him “into the presence of God.”
As for Rocky’s gift to us, he had written, “Every day isn’t perfect, sometimes things get in your way to make you mad, doubt your faith, and you lose focus. When things get rough like that I relax myself first, then I focus, and I take time out to pray, asking God to keep me focused, healthy, safe, and strong. Knowing that if I endure and don’t give in, there is a rising miracle waiting for me to behold.”
That is the voice of God’s Spirit testifying to the ecstatic power to move us off of dead center and toward a rising miracle.
The work of the Holy Spirit is not some cosmic force that detaches us from life here and now and transports us into another world. It is the prompting of God that pleads with us to get on with our lives so that we do not miss a thing. It is that sense of wonder, that sense of grandeur, that sense of coherence which shapes the meaning of our lives. It is what moves us from stasis to action, toward the rising miracle waiting for us to behold.
Look at what happens in our gospel passage for today, the baptism of Jesus by John in the opening verses of Mark. This is Mark’s ‘birth story.” There is nothing that leads up to this . . . no manger, no shepherds, no angels, no magi, no camels, no gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Mark starts mid-stream. “John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness,” wearing humble clothing and eating a simple diet, and offering a baptism of repentance. And then, Jesus appears, is baptized by John, not for the sake of repentance, but for something completely different – as a sign of God’s blessing. For as Jesus emerges from the River Jordan he sees the heavens open and the Spirit descending like a dove. And a voice decrees, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well-pleased.” A confirmation: “With you I am well-pleased.”
But, Jesus had not done anything yet. He had not preached a sermon, he had not healed a sick person, he had not fed a hungry person, he had not blessed a child, he had not confronted a despicable ruler. God blesses him so that he can get to work. It is an ecstatic moment because the Holy Spirit impels him to get moving. But it is worth noting that only Jesus sees the dove and hears the voice. In the Gospel of Mark this is not a public confirmation but a private baptism of Jesus’ intentions.
Sometimes the greatest gift of the Holy Spirit comes when we sense that we are doing the right thing. The confirmation that God baptizes our efforts when we tell the truth at a time when silence would be so much easier, when we stand for justice when giving in to power would be so much safer, when we extend mercy when others ridicule us for being too soft, when we do what is right even when there is a big price to pay, when we love when others tell us to hate.
“It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to, than I ever have known.” An ecstatic exclamation by the character, Sydney Carton, choosing to die in the place of his nephew at the conclusion of Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities. A sat with my high school English teacher, George, on Thursday afternoon trying to retrieve that quotation that he had taught me decades ago. He knew the words and the character but could not get it out because of his stroke; I knew the source and the first few words but could not put it all together. So, I promised him that I would look it up and get it right before today.
But that sense of doing the better thing, that is the confirmation of the Holy Spirit. So that Jesus, in the Gospel of John, can say, “There is no greater love than this, that a person lay down his life for his friends.” Here he presages an ecstatic moment of self-giving of his own.
When we bless the water of baptism we say, “Pour out your Holy Spirit, to bless this gift of water and the one who receives it.” When we bless the bread and cup of Holy Communion, we say, “Pour out your Holy Spirit on us gathered here, and on these gifts of bread and wine.” For what are we seeking when we engage in the central sacraments of the Christian faith? Ecstasy. A power beyond our own willfulness that will move us off of dead center and propel us into living life to its fullest.
That is the confirmation we seek today. That is the gift from God that will allow us to live this new year with resolve and with faith. “Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire.” Amen.
Philip L. Blackwell
The Chicago Temple
January 8, 2012
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