February 21, 2021: Beloved is Where We Begin

Mark 1:9-13
Rev. Rhonda Blevins

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” And the Spirit immediately drove him out into the wilderness. He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.

______ 

“Beloved is Where We Begin” by Jan Richardson: 

If you would enter
into the wilderness,
do not begin
without a blessing.

Do not leave
without hearing
who you are:
Beloved,
named by the One
who has traveled this path
before you.

Do not go
without letting it echo
in your ears,
and if you find
it is hard
to let it into your heart,
do not despair.
That is what
this journey is for. 

I cannot promise
this blessing will free you
from danger,
from fear,
from hunger
or thirst,
from the scorching
of sun
or the fall
of the night.

But I can tell you
that on this path
there will be help.

I can tell you
that on this way
there will be rest.

I can tell you
that you will know
the strange graces
that come to our aid
only on a road
such as this,
that fly to meet us
bearing comfort
and strength,
that come alongside us
for no other cause
than to lean themselves
toward our ear
and with their
curious insistence
whisper our name: 

Beloved.
Beloved.
Beloved.

This poem by Jan Richardson, “Beloved is Where We Begin,” seems a fitting starting block for our Lenten journey together. “Beloved” is where Jesus began his 40 days and 40 nights in the wilderness. It served him well. Perhaps it will serve us well too.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In Mark’s gospel, the story of Jesus’ baptism and journey into the wilderness moves at breakneck pace. Other gospels give us more details, but Mark doesn’t spend a lot of time on the details. “Just the facts, ma’am,” for Mark. Think about it, Jesus’ baptism, blessing, and entire wilderness experience—all together—comprise only five verses in the first chapter of the Gospel of Mark.

But one detail Mark was careful to include, one detail he could have easily left out if he’s going for economy of words, was this voice from on high calling Jesus “beloved.” This same detail—a voice on high calling Jesus “beloved”—is included in all three synoptic gospels. All three writers find this curious detail important to the story of Jesus they will tell.

Why?

Because “beloved” is where Jesus began. Before he went to fast and pray in the wilderness, before he called his disciples, before he launched his public ministry, before he healed, before he taught, before he did anything of consequence—anything worthy of recording in holy writ—“beloved” is where he began. Jesus did nothing to earn his belovedness. (Neither do we, by the way.) This blessing, the fact that Jesus understood his nature as that of the “beloved,” gave him power to face the 40 days and nights of fasting alone in the wilderness, and so much more.

This past Wednesday was Ash Wednesday. Many of you came through to receive the imposition of ashes, marking the beginning of the season of Lent, the season of penitence and turning more fully toward God. This year I used the traditional priestly reminder at the imposition of ashes: “Remember from dust you came, and to dust you shall return.” Some people don’t like this very much, this reminder of our mortality. It’s not that we don’t know we’re going to die, it’s just that most of us don’t like to think about it very much. A country song by Kenny Chesney captures this sentiment well with the lyrics, “Everybody want to go to heaven, but nobody want to go now.” I named on Ash Wednesday that the ash in the sign of the cross is a reminder of our mortality, but there’s a counterpoint—we can also remember that there is a part of us that is eternal—the Holy Spirit of God that dwells within. That same Holy Spirit that lives in us lived in Jesus, granting him strength and power as he faced his 40 days in the wilderness.

I have some clergy friends who were talking about the idea of “giving something up for Lent” this year. One of them named, “I don’t think the Lord requires us to give up any more this year when we’ve already given up so much” due to the pandemic. A priest tweeted, “Hey y’all, I’m a priest and my Lenten discipline is called ‘getting through the next six weeks’ and I’m giving you permission to do the same, okay?”[1] After a year with so much loss, my clergy friends and I decided that as faith leaders, maybe we shouldn’t ask people to give up anything else. “Let’s give up fasting for Lent!” one of my colleagues joked. We all agreed.

Lent, traditionally, is a time of fasting and prayer, a period of 40 days (excluding Sundays) that follows a distinct biblical pattern:

• 40 is the number of days it rained as Noah and his family survived on the ark (Genesis 7:12).

• 40 is the number of days that Moses was on Mount Sinai as he prepared to receive the 10 Commandments—he too fasted those 40 days (Exodus 34:28).

• 40 is the number of days that Elijah walked up that same mountain (1 Kings 19:8).

• And of course, 40 is the number of days that Jesus fasted and prayed in the wilderness before he launched his public ministry (Mark 1:13).  

We reflect on Jesus’ wilderness experience each year on the first Sunday of Lent, but this year it seems especially prescient as the entire world has experienced unprecedented challenges and loss. And given the pandemic, any additional challenges that life throws our way seems unbearable.

This week the world watched as Texas faced a winter storm that left millions without power and clean water. It was a systems failure of epic proportions. One of my closest friends lives in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, so I checked in with her periodically over the course of the week. They lost power when it was 6 degrees, so she and her family scrambled to find somewhere warm to spend the night. She and her husband and teenage son and their crippled dog ended up at a friend’s house. Her elderly father in a care facility was safe only because of a generator in the facility. She expressed her exhaustion at simply trying to keep her family alive. Keeping her good wit, she sent me a meme that read, “Getting pretty tired of living through historic events!”

There was good news this week as well. The Mars rover “Perseverance” had a successful landing on, er, Mars. I love the name of the rover . . . “Perseverance.” A 14-year-old kid named Alex Mather beat out 28,000 other kids in a contest to name the rover. Asked how he came up with the name, he said, “One day I just realized that Mars missions are so hard and there’s incredible perseverance shown by both the mission and the rover itself.”[2] Apparently, NASA agreed. So “Perseverance” landed on Mars this week. The “Perseverance” that landed on Mars was only possible because of tremendous perseverance here on earth.

Where does perseverance come from? How did Moses and Elijah and Jesus persevere through a 40-day fast? How did my friend keep her family alive through the worst winter storm in a century? How are you and I still here despite living through the worst pandemic in over a century? How do so many of you keep smiling, keep showing up for one another, keep the faith through so many difficulties and challenges both seen and unseen?

What is the source of this perseverance?

It’s the Holy Spirit. The Apostle Paul said this: that the same power that raised Christ from the dead lives in us (Romans 8:11). That’s power! Power to persevere through the difficulties life throws at us.

Jesus never promised that we would have immunity from challenges. He did promise, however, that we would have a vaccine against hopelessness and powerlessness—the Holy Spirit in us! “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes upon you,” Jesus promised his followers (Acts 1:8). And one dose of that Holy Spirit is enough for a lifetime!

There’s a legend that hails from the Cherokee tradition about the rite of passage into manhood. Here’s how it goes:

The boy’s father takes him into the forest, sits him on a stump, blindfolds him, and leaves him alone. To pass the test, the lad is required to sit on that stump all night long without removing the blindfold until the morning light shines through it. He cannot cry out for help. He must sit there, blindfolded, alone, enduring the darkness. If he survives the night, he is a man. He can’t tell the other boys about the experience, because each boy must face the same challenge on his way to manhood.

Obviously, the boy is terrified. Wouldn’t you be? In the dark, in the woods, blindfolded—the mind begins to play tricks on the boy. The wind blows through the grass and trees, the nocturnal animals hunt their prey, coyotes and wolves and bobcats make their growling, howling noises. He will surely die! But the boy must sit still, no matter what, and never remove the blindfold. This is the only way he can become a man.

Finally, after a fearful night, the sun appears. The boy is free to remove his blindfold. As he peels the cloth from his eyes, what does he see but his father sitting on a stump nearby! Without the boy knowing, his father has been there the entire night, protecting him from anything that might cause harm.[3]

Today we brought forth the Christ candle as the focal point of our Lenten chancel display. The Christ candle symbolizes God’s presence with us. Most of us go through life blindfolded, imagining that we’re facing the darkness and the wilderness alone. We don’t realize that the presence of Christ is with us. And that’s why, in Christian tradition, we light the Christ candle as a way of taking off our blindfold—reminding ourselves that Christ is with us, always, even in the darkest night.

My dear friends, on this, the first Sunday of the season of Lent, I want you to know that Christ is with you. And the one thing Christ wants you to know before you face the wilderness—the one thing to give you power for the trials ahead—you are beloved. Beloved. Beloved.

Beloved is where we begin.

[1] A.D. Armond, @AD_Armond, February 19, 2021

[2] Derrick Ward, “Virginia Student Beat 28,000 Contestants in Naming Mars Rover ‘Perseverance,'”

February 17, 2021, https://www.nbcwashington.com/news/virginia-student-beat-28000-contestants-in-naming-mars-rover-perseverance/2577782/

[3] https://www.nrcs.usda.gov/Internet/FSE_DOCUMENTS/nrcs141p2_015565.pdf