Christians are called “Christians” not because of their membership in an organized religion called Christianity. Not even due to one’s baptismal status. What makes Christians Christians is first and foremost their action to follow Jesus of Nazareth out of one’s desire and free will. Baptism is an outward sign, symbol, and means to publicly and personally express this determination and life-long commitment with fellow followers who also witness it and welcome one as their sibling in Christ. We Christians are interconnected through this Spirit-led action to follow Jesus. It’s not by class, race, gender, denomination, or any other labels or identities. Baptism is a personal and communal ritual to enter this connection as the Eucharist completes this communion in Christ. (I’m talking about the fundamental purposes of these two sacraments so that we don’t miss what really matters. Let’s not get caught up in outward things!)
So, Jesus’ message this morning cuts through the core of the gospel: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” In order to follow him, there’s one requirement. Without fulfilling this requirement, one cannot even follow him. Self-denial must come first. One cannot both continue to become who one thinks one is and follow Jesus. If we’re serious about following Jesus, or if we’re considering this path of Jesus, we need to reflect on what it means to deny oneself. Do we even know how to deny ourselves? How do we do that? Self-denial begins with self-reflection. How do we understand ourselves? What is the self? I’ve talked a lot about how we create certain images of ourselves that are not quite accurate. If you disagree with me on this, when was the last time you were kind and compassionate to yourself? If you’re thinking so hard to recall, then here’s an easier question. When was the last time you were mean and harsh to yourself? (When did I call myself an idiot!?) Speaking for myself, about an hour ago I did. This is one of the examples of how we judge ourselves based on self-images we’ve consciously and unconsciously been crafting. This self-judgment or guilt or shame at worst usually comes out of one’s self-image that is so perfect. We may desire to be perfectly perfect but the truth is we’re perfectly imperfect. Whatever self-images we have for ourselves are unreal. This is the self that Jesus asks us to deny. The self that is made of fear, anxiety, insecurity, guilt, shame, pride, or any self-defeating ingredient must be denied. Not only because it is delusional but because it is sickening, toxic, and ungodly to ourselves, God, and others. This created image of self is so addictive. There’s one thought all of us, probably all human beings, have in common: “Me, me, me, me…” I just couldn’t stop thinking about myself! This self-addiction gets in the way to follow Jesus, see others as they are, and encounter God. Think of those who are just looking at one’s smartphone 24/7. We know they’ll miss out on beautiful plants, flowers, sunlight, rainbows, etc. as they’re so focused on their illusional pictures on a rectangular-shaped metal brick. How can we then start practicing this self-denial to better follow Jesus? One example would be how to deal with anger. When we’re so attached to ourselves, we’ll have a hard time stepping back from that fiery anger. We become the ANGER incarnate. There’s no self-denial here but self-dominance. We’re filled with anger that all our rational faculties are used to justify this anger. But there’s a way out. We can contemplate not on anger but on the experience of being angry. Have a long look at our anger. We can write down the word “ANGER” and then “I am angry.” Pay attention to the space between “I am” and “angry.” Expand that space as we imagine to create that space in our minds. Write down “I am angry” expanding the space between “I am” and “angry” line by line. We want to reach the point where we no longer see “I am” and “angry.” Stay there as long as we want. Then, let’s revisit our anger and write down from where we stopped. This time, we want to purify this anger as we close the space between “I am” and “angry.” In the end, we have this pure anger energy to which we’re no longer attached but can utilize it to make a change for the benefit of others. No self-agenda is involved. ANGER I am angry I am angry I am angry I am angry I am angry I am angry I am angry I am angry I am angry I am angry anger The picture above may be what Jesus means by denying oneself, taking up one’s cross, and following him. The only obstacle for us to love others may be ourselves so stuck in our own images, rather than the image of God. Self-denial is self-emptying. This kenotic life is the life of the cross that is freeing and loving. Amen. The overarching theme of the two stories in today’s gospel lesson is the divine unfoldment that liberates us from oppressive exclusion and self-isolation. The key is to be opened up to the reality of God in which we see ourselves deeply connected. (For this purpose, the Eucharist is that very reminder, outward sign/symbol, and the way itself to enter the divine reality.)
Jesus in the lesson is depicted as a person of his time that views gentiles as unclean. He doesn't face any consequences for calling the woman a “puppy.” The woman, her egoless, thus kenotic, response pulls him out of the box of cultural exclusion that he probably hasn’t yet examined. She helps Jesus by asking him for help. This is one of the examples of the divine unfoldment which is always mutually beneficial. What about the second miracle story? We see “they” bring to Jesus a deaf man with an impediment in his speech. “They” even beg him to lay his hand on him in the story. Who are they? They might be family members or friends. These nameless people go out of themselves, take the deaf person to Jesus who they beg for the sake of their friend. Their compassion toward the deaf person frees them from their world of ‘me, my, mine’ and leads them to experience the divine unfoldment. They are out of their comfort zone. In doing so, Jesus is once again invited to get out of himself and become the channel for another divine unfoldment for the deaf person. “Ephphatha.” Be opened. This can certainly be considered as one of the core teachings of Jesus. Without being opened by the Holy Spirit who inspires curiosity, wonder, and compassion in us, the love of our neighbors is impossible. This openness has many names: kindness, compassion, hospitality, acceptance, forgiveness, hope, and so on. I assume you get my point on openness. How can this teaching become the spiritual practice that reminds us of our collective call to the divine unfoldment and helps us be open deeper and wider? I would like to suggest a simple exercise of clenching and opening your hands simultaneously. There can be two ways to look at the act of clenching fists. One is, as we clench our hands hard, we cannot hold much. The more we try to hold onto something, the more we lose. We lose ourselves when we try to hold onto ourselves. The more we attach to our self-images, the more we become lost and secluded. The other way to understand clench fists is to consider it as a way to charge our spiritual energy to unfold and spread further. We can clench our hands just to open them wider. Reflecting on these two ways to look at our clenched fists, the act of opening our hands is to let go of our clinginess and attachment to our ego or any objects, feelings, and thoughts and also to hold and embrace as freely as we can. This spiritual exercise of closing and opening hands can go with breathing meditation. As we breathe in, we close our hands. As we open our hands, we breathe out. This simple spiritual practice of opening and closing our hands, which can be named “Ephphatha,” ought to help us be more open, forgiving, and compassionate, far from uptight, stuck-up, or judgmental of ourselves and others. In this state of divine openness, we are no longer self-enclosed. This spiritual transition away from self is the key to the divine unfoldment. Perhaps too often, we are mistaken to think that we need to defend ourselves to strengthen who we are. This misconceived understanding of self is not merely limited to human psychology but easily shown in materialism. Our culture of consumerism is based on this psychological and spiritual insecurity of self that we’re tempted and compelled to believe material goods can help us secure and recreate who we are. Those who are opened up by the Holy Spirit, however, can see through this illusion and instant gratification that doesn’t last. It’s like we can buy a luxurious watch but can’t buy time, or we can buy a house but not a home. Again, this is just like clenching our fists without ever relaxing our hands. The tighter and stronger we close our hands, the more we lose the sense of who we are to the point we hold nothing but sweat. Realizing this nature of the divine unfoldment in turn leads us to a deeper level of the reality in which we see the entire world differently. The goodness of Jesus in the gospel of St. Mark, “RepentThe time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe in the good news!” (Mark 1:15) can be comprehended as “Ephphatha! Get out of the kingdom of ‘me, my, mine’ and enter the kingdom of God.” Which kingdom are we living in right now? Let’s not get ourselves in the way of living in God’s kingdom here and now. Amen. What are God’s commandments for? Do believers in and of God keep these rules to please God? What are some fundamental reasons to follow them? What do we gain from keeping those commandments? What benefits does our society or local community or people around us receive from our faithful observance of them? In order not to be legalistic about religiously observant practices and rules around them, we ought to reflect and ask these questions. This would be a constant spiritual discipline to remind ourselves why we do what we do.
In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus’ friends are criticized by the Pharisees and some of the scribes for not keeping the law of washing their hands before eating. So they ask Jesus, “Why do your disciples not live according to the tradition of the elders, but eat with defiled hands?” This accusation is of course to attack and minimize Jesus and his ministry out of envy. What’s interesting, however, is the logic of how one becomes defiled. The hands of Jesus’ friends wouldn’t have been defiled if they hadn’t eaten any food. Their hands become defiled as they eat something with their hands. Before that, their hands are not unclean. What's considered clean or unclean is determined by conditions and actions that follow after. In the case of Jesus’ friends, their hands are not washed, and the action is that they eat something with that specific condition. Now they are not only judged to be guilty but also their hands are defiled according to the tradition of elders. This raises another question of who made this rule and for what purpose it is to be kept. Is God happy that I wash my hands before eating? Maybe. I don’t know if God should even care. It’s a bit too tedious. But if this is about public health, which we have heard during this pandemic era the importance of washing our hands with soap at least for 20 seconds, this ritual of washing hands before eating makes sense. God must be happy that I don’t touch my neighbors with my germy hands! The logic of the condition of defilement is quite thin. What we really see in the encounter between Jesus and his critics is this human nature that we see things around us based on what’s already preconceived in our minds. Human tradition in this sense may be what’s already preconceived by ancestors is being handed over to the next generation. Anais Nin once said, “We don’t see things as they are but as we are.” The Pharisees and scribes look at Jesus and his friends in the way they define themselves: what’s clean or not, or what’s lawful or not. This is the lens of self-righteousness. This echoes Jesus’ saying this morning, “...there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile.” If the Pharisees and scribes don’t have any preconceived notion of how one’s hands become defile, there really is nothing unclean in the action of eating. Their lens of a legalistically oriented black-and-white worldview defiles people and their actions that don’t meet the standards. This then takes us to examine our own minds. What kind of mirror do we see people around us? How do we reflect the world that we see in our hearts? One way to check is what we first see in people and how we judge others. Quite frankly speaking, my default lens to people is to look for what’s wrong, dangerous, or generally what’s not in my cup of tea. I imagine there would be many of us who can join my boat. This, I think, is more about our brain that is programmed for survival. What matters is to candidly see what lens we use most frequently, which is in and of itself a spiritual practice. Imagine we’re looking at the mirror of our minds. See what’s on it and what’s in the way to reflect the world as it is. (Think about a foggy mirror in the shower.) As we contemplatively look at the mirror of our mind, see what’s there, and wipe it clean more mindfully, we can meet the mirror of compassion and wisdom. This means that whatever mirror of defilement we have can be transformed into the mirror of compassion and wisdom. Jesus’ teaching of “That all these evil things come from within, and they defile a person” can also mean the opposite: all good things can come from within, and they sanctify a person with the help of the Holy Spirit. With confidence and hope in the Spirit, we strive to see this mirror of compassion and wisdom. Compassion is the way we understand and treat others while wisdom considers conditions and causes of situations where people are situated. Compassion stops us from prematurely judging others while wisdom helps us see what’s going on just as mercy and justice go together. What’s then after the mirror of compassion and wisdom? No mirror! In our union with God, the mirror of compassion and wisdom is not needed. Mirrorless that we see people and things in Christ as God sees them. Amen. Since Jesus in today’s gospel lesson continues to discuss what one eats not only defines who one is but also determines whether one will live eternally or not, I would like to further expand Feuerbach’s statement of “You are what you eat.” In this specifically Jewish context, there are two types of food: manna and the flesh and blood of Jesus. As Jesus refers to manna as the food that “your ancestors ate,” we can see how Jesus differentiates himself from his followers. This food that their ancestors ate is spoken metaphorically that those who eat this food are defined as Jewish. In this sense, this metaphor of manna is more than actual food. It’s the tradition and the culture that make them who they are. What they eat creates, defines, and strengthens who they are. For example, think about Kosher or halal food or veganism.
While this identity formation is crucial to human development and is helpful to discovering a sense of purpose and meaning in life, there’s the danger of exclusion when maintaining openness to differences fails as well as in the context where our formed identities hinder our spiritual growth. One gets locked in one’s fixated and often mythologized self-image. Jesus may have seen that his Jewish identity is not everything that he is. In his encounters with local religious authorities, it becomes much more evident that they appear to care more about the law than the people for whom the law exists. Rather than disowning his Jewish heritage, he expands that identity to a more universal level and invites his friends to do the same. “Don’t get stuck in that one identity or label but explore deeper.” Let’s ponder on this identity formation in a spiritual sense. Say, Frankenstein’s Creature is self-identified as the monster who is a composite of body parts grafted together from corpses and enlivened by electricity. He’s not immortal and can die in a biological sense. When his life energy is no longer left, he thinks he dies as the monster since his sole identity has never been anything but the monster in his mind. What dies is that very crafted and projected image of the monster. What is perceived to die is one’s identity and image. The sense of self he creates, identifies with, and projects onto himself dies. Because the monster is fabricated as the Creature’s identity, it is born and dead. But what if he’s free of that self-projection or identification? We name and label ourselves and others. That’s how we come to become who we are. But who are we before we’re given certain names and certain identities? You call me Paul to signify me, this specific person with distinct features. My family calls my Korean name Young, and Theodore calls me dad or abba in Korean. I can be labeled as Asian or Korean American. In the Episcopal setting, I am a priest whereas I’m a chaplain in a healthcare setting. My point is that our identities constantly change depending on the contexts we are in. What Jesus calls us into is this selfless nature of who we are as we unmask our identities that have been sometimes given by the society and culture, projected, and created on our own. Before God, we stand completely naked and simply be. Before God, only life is presented. Because Jesus sees through this selfless aspect of who we are before God, he can selflessly offer himself, his flesh and blood. Because he’s free of any sociocultural identity, he cannot die, meaning the sense of who he is is unborn. (Please keep in mind that Jesus’ promise of eternal life doesn’t mean immortality but the life of freedom in our union with God.) We are called to this selfless life in Christ. This is a daunting and challenging task. How can I let go of all my identities that we cling so much to and that we generate reasons, meanings, and purposes for our existence? It would be harder if one has more socioeconomic privileges! Even Jesus’ disciples end up leaving him. They say his teaching is difficult whereas Jesus thinks it’s offensive to them. What about us? We can consider his teaching both difficult and offensive AND still can stick with him as we learn to be selfless like he is to us. This, I think, is more than good enough reason to eat his flesh and drink his blood. We might not yet be ready to let go of all that makes who we are out of fear of losing ourselves, but our baptism has already revealed this selflessness in Christ, and in our partaking of the Eucharist we find ourselves eternally united with God. These are the hopeful signposts that can direct us whenever we fail to see who we truly are in this world. Amen. |
Paul"...life up your love to that cloud [of unknowing]...let God draw your love up to that cloud...through the help of his grace, to forget every other thing." Archives
January 2025
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