Epiphany 1: Baptized and Beloved

January 3, 2010


Baptized and Beloved © Jan L. Richardson

Reading from the Gospels, Epiphany 1/Baptism of Jesus, Year C: Luke 3.15-17, 21-22

A few nights ago, I had a dream. In the dream, I was sitting by a lake. A woman came and sat down beside me. She looked like a woman on whom life had been especially hard. Turning to her, offering my hand, I told her my name and asked hers. “My name,” she said as she took my hand, “is Fayette.”

Fayette. It’s the name of a woman who has haunted me for years and whom I have never met in waking life. I first learned of her in a story told by Janet Wolf, who used to serve as the pastor of Hobson United Methodist Church in Nashville, Tennessee. Hobson UMC is a wildly diverse congregation that includes, as Janet has described it, “…people with power and PhDs and folks who have never gone past the third grade; folks with two houses and folks living on the streets; and, as one person who struggles with mental health declared, ‘those of us who are crazy and those who think they’re not.’”

Years ago, a woman named Fayette found her way to Hobson. Fayette lived with mental illness and lupus and without a home. She joined the new member class. The conversation about baptism—“this holy moment when we are named by God’s grace with such power it won’t come undone,” as Janet puts it—especially grabbed Fayette’s imagination. Janet tells of how, during the class, Fayette would ask again and again, “And when I’m baptized, I am…?” “The class,” Janet writes, “learned to respond, ‘Beloved, precious child of God, and beautiful to behold.’ ‘Oh, yes!’ she’d say, and then we could go back to our discussion.”

The day of Fayette’s baptism came. This is how Janet describes it:

Fayette went under, came up spluttering, and cried, ‘And now I am…?’ And we all sang, ‘Beloved, precious child of God, and beautiful to behold.’ ‘Oh, yes!’ she shouted as she danced all around the fellowship hall.

Two months later, Janet received a phone call.

Fayette had been beaten and raped and was at the county hospital. So I went. I could see her from a distance, pacing back and forth. When I got to the door, I heard, ‘I am beloved….’ She turned, saw me, and said, ‘I am beloved, precious child of God, and….’ Catching sight of herself in the mirror—hair sticking up, blood and tears streaking her face, dress torn, dirty, and rebuttoned askew, she started again, ‘I am beloved, precious child of God, and…’ She looked in the mirror again and declared, ‘…and God is still working on me. If you come back tomorrow, I’ll be so beautiful I’ll take your breath away!’

Beloved, the voice from heaven had proclaimed as the baptismal waters of the Jordan rolled off Jesus’ body. Beloved, the voice named him as he prepared to begin his public ministry. Beloved, spoken with such power that it would permeate Jesus’ entire life and teaching. Beloved, he would name those he met who were desperate for healing, for inclusion, for hope. Beloved, echoing through the ages, continuing to name those drenched in the waters of baptism. Beloved.  Child of God.

Fayette—beloved, precious child of God, and beautiful to behold—haunts me, blesses me, goes with me into this season. She challenges me to ask what it means that—like her, with her—I have been named by God’s grace with such power that it won’t come undone. As I remember the Baptism of Jesus, how will I reckon with the fact that I, that we, have shared in those waters—that in the sacrament of baptism and as members of the body of Christ, we, too, are named as beloved children of God? How will we live in such a way that others will know themselves as named by God, beloved by God—especially those who have been given cause to think they are less than loved, less than children of the One who created them?

In the coming days, may the waters of our baptism so cling to us that in their depths we see who we are, and from our depths reflect to others their true name: beloved, precious child of God, and beautiful to behold.

Blessings to you.

[Janet Wolf’s story is from The Upper Room Disciplines 1999 (Nashville: The Upper Room).]

[To use the “Baptized and Beloved” image, please visit this page at janrichardsonimages.com. For all my artwork for the Baptism of Jesus, please see this page. Annual subscriptions for unlimited downloads from janrichardsonimages.com are available at a special holiday discount through Epiphany (January 6). Visit subscribe for more info. Your support of JRI helps make the ministry of The Painted Prayerbook possible. Thank you!]

For previous reflections on the Baptism of Jesus, please see these posts:

Epiphany 1: Take Me to the River
Epiphany 1: Ceremony (with a Side of Cake)

Feast of the Epiphany: Blessing the House

December 31, 2009

Image: The Wise Ones © Jan Richardson

Reading from the Gospels, Epiphany, Years ABC: Matthew 2.1-12

In the rhythm of the liturgical year, the season of Christmas comes to an end with the Feast of the Epiphany on January 6. The word epiphany comes from the Greek word epiphaneia, meaning manifestation or appearance. In Western Christianity, we observe this day primarily as a commemoration of the wise men who journeyed to see Jesus. In the East, Epiphany is a major feast day that celebrates not only Christ’s manifestation to the world through his birth and to the magi in their visit but also the way in which he showed himself forth in his baptism and in his first recorded miracle, the changing of water to wine at the wedding at Cana.

In doing some reading about the Feast of the Epiphany recently, I’ve been intrigued by a custom that is often mentioned in connection with this day of celebration: the blessing and chalking of the house. Many versions of the ceremony that I’ve come across include these elements:

-The reciting of a blessing upon the house (or other dwelling) and those who inhabit it

-The blessing of a piece of chalk that is then used to write a formula above the entry of the house. The formula incorporates the current year with the initials of the wise men (whose names are not recorded in scripture but were given by tradition as Caspar [or Gaspar], Melchior, and Balthasar). This coming Epiphany, it would be written this way:

20 + C + M + B + 10

(Some folks note that “C M B” can also stand for “Christus Mansionem Benedicat,” which means “May Christ bless this dwelling.”)

-The sprinkling of the door with holy water

Although it seems to be an ancient practice, I haven’t found any explanation of the origin of the custom. I suspect that, like many rituals, it has several layers of meaning and that its origin has more than one source. Certainly it has much resonance with the visit of the wise men to the home of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, and the manner in which they blessed it with their presence and their gifts.

So I’ve been thinking about house blessings as Epiphany approaches, especially since Gary and I will soon be in search of a house of our own. We’re engaged to be married next spring, and I’m daily praying that God will lead us to a (spacious) abode that will welcome two adults, each of whom needs a studio at home (and a copious measure of personal space), and Gary’s teenaged son. (Did I mention we’re looking for something spacious?)

At the same time that I’m thinking of (and praying for) a physical dwelling that we will inhabit and bless, I also find myself imagining the coming year as a house—a space in time that is opening itself to all of us. How will we inhabit the coming year? How will we enter it with mindfulness and with intention? How will we move through the rooms of the coming months in a way that brings blessing to this world?

With these questions in mind, I offer this blessing for you.

The Year as a House: A Blessing

Think of the year
as a house:
door flung wide
in welcome,
threshold swept
and waiting,
a graced spaciousness
opening and offering itself
to you.

Let it be blessed
in every room.
Let it be hallowed
in every corner.
Let every nook
be a refuge
and every object
set to holy use.

Let it be here
that safety will rest.
Let it be here
that health will make its home.
Let it be here
that peace will show its face.
Let it be here
that love will find its way.

Here
let the weary come
let the aching come
let the lost come
let the sorrowing come.

Here
let them find their rest
and let them find their soothing
and let them find their place
and let them find their delight.

And may it be
in this house of a year
that the seasons will spin in beauty,
and may it be
in these turning days
that time will spiral with joy.
And may it be
that its rooms will fill
with ordinary grace
and light spill from every window
to welcome the stranger home.

—Jan Richardson

Wherever you make your home, may it be blessed, and may you enter this Epiphany and the coming year in peace.

[For other Epiphany reflections, please visit my previous post. If you’re working with the lection from John’s gospel for this Sunday (Christmas 2), please see this reflection.]

[To use the “Wise Ones” image, which is from my book In Wisdom’s Path: Discovering the Sacred in Every Season, please visit this page at janrichardsonimages.com. For all my artwork for the Feast of the Epiphany, please see this page. Your use of janrichardsonimages.com helps make the ministry of The Painted Prayerbook possible. Thank you!]

On the Sickth Day of Christmas

December 30, 2009


Magi and Mystery © Jan L. Richardson

Reading from the Gospels, Epiphany, Years ABC: Matthew 2.1-12

I’ve spent the past few days dealing with an unexpected Christmas guest: a rare (for me) head cold. It’s one way to get a break, I suppose, but not the way that I’d planned to spend these lovely days between Christmas Day and Epiphany. I finally gave in and went to the doctor today and trust I’ll be back in the swing of things soon.

I had planned to post a new reflection for Epiphany early this week, and still have hopes of doing so before the week is out; we’ll see how that goes. In the meantime, I invite you to visit my previous Epiphany posts: Magi and Mystery, Inviting Epiphany, and Feast of the Epiphany: A Calendar of Kings.

To see all my artwork for the Feast of the Epiphany, please visit this page at janrichardsonimages.com.

On this sixth day of Christmas, I wish you peace and good health!

On the Fourth Day of Christmas

December 28, 2009


The Hour of Vespers: Flight to Egypt © Jan L. Richardson

With Advent being my busiest season of the entire year, it comes as something of a comfort to me that Christmas is not just a single day: in the rhythm of the liturgical year, Christmas lasts for twelve days. There’s some variation of opinion as to when the Twelve Days of Christmas begin; some say Christmas night, others begin the count on December 26. Regardless, the season of Christmas ends with the Feast of the Epiphany on January 6. No matter how you count it, the days of Christmas invite us not to be too hasty in bringing an end to our celebration of the Incarnation. For me, this celebration includes giving my incarnated self some rest and savoring the delights that the season yet offers to us.

The Twelve Days of Christmas include several feast days that help define the season. December 26 was the Feast of St. Stephen (featured in the carol “Good King Wenceslas”), the first Christian to die for bearing witness to the one who had come as Emmanuel, God with us. Yesterday was the feast of St. John. Today, December 28, is the Feast of the Holy Innocents—the male children slaughtered by the soldiers of King Herod, as told in Matthew 2.16-18. (The Eastern Orthodox Church observes this on December 29.) This grim feast day reminds us to acknowledge the shadow side of the Christmas season: amid our celebration of the Christ who came as the light of the world, the presence of evil persists. To truly celebrate the birth of Christ means working against the forces that perpetuate suffering.

The Massacre of the Innocents appears often in medieval artwork, usually in gruesome detail and sometimes in connection with the Flight to Egypt (Mary, Joseph, and Jesus’ escape from the soldiers). The image above is from my Advent Hours series and depicts an intriguing variation on the story of the Flight to Egypt that incorporates St. Brigid, the famed Irish saint. Many ancient prayers and legends from Celtic lands refer to St. Brigid of Kildare as the foster-mother of Christ and the midwife at his birth. Even for the wonderworking Brigid, this would have been a great feat, as she was born in the fifth century. Yet in a culture in which the bond of fostering was often stronger than the bond of blood, this notion reveals something of the deep esteem that Brigid attracted, and it’s a way of describing how she helped to prepare a way for Christ as the Christian faith took root in Ireland. A particularly lovely legend tells that St. Brigid, upon seeing Herod’s soldiers enter the city to slaughter the young boys, quickly fashioned a wreath of candles. Placing it upon her head, she began to dance, distracting the soldiers and allowing the Holy Family to flee to safety.

On this feast day, Brigid’s legend and the story of the slaughter of the innocents calls me to consider what I’m doing, or need to do, to help protect those who suffer most in our world. As I rest for a bit in this Christmas season, as I linger with what the season continues to offer, how might this be a time of discernment and preparation for the work that lies ahead?

What’s stirring for you as we move through the Christmas season? What might this Twelve-Days-Feast have yet to offer you in the way of both delights and questions for your path ahead?

If you didn’t have occasion to visit The Advent Door during the past weeks, I invite you to stop by there as we move through these lingering days of Christmas. As we journey toward Epiphany, may you find in these days a continued celebration and the sustenance you need to walk in the way of Christ, the Word made flesh. Blessings and peace to you!

[To use this image, please visit this page at janrichardsonimages.com. Your use of janrichardsonimages.com helps make the ministry of The Painted Prayerbook possible. Thank you!]

Anticipating Advent

November 9, 2009

Advent11
Magnificat © Jan L. Richardson

Today has found me in the studio, working on some artwork for the cover of my new book. Amid the intensity of writing, I haven’t spent a lot of time in the studio in recent months, so it was lovely to clear off my drafting table today and play amongst the paints. As I wrap up the book and begin to contemplate the coming season of Advent, I’m looking forward to creating new art and reflections for my blog The Advent Door. I just published my first post of the year over there, with a few pre-Advent thoughts; I invite you to stop by. (And don’t miss the announcement there about the festive Advent discount on annual subscriptions at janrichardsonimages.com!)

Even though I’m someone who gives a lot of thought to Advent, I still often find that it catches me unprepared and that it seems altogether too short. Especially given what an intense year this has been with working on the book, I’m trying to get a jump on things and give some thought now to how I want to enter into the coming season. I don’t have a clear plan as of yet—and Advent tends to resist too much planning anyway—but I’m starting to envision some things that invite me to linger and savor and be: a good walk, a visit with a friend over a cup of tea, a stolen afternoon with a tasty book…

How do you hope to enter Advent this year? When we arrive at Christmas, what do you want to be able to look back on? What will help you stop and savor the coming season and open your eyes to the Christ who comes to us amongst these days?

As we anticipate Advent, may we also linger well with these present hours. Blessings to you.

For All the Saints

October 26, 2009

blog-A-Gathering-of-Spirits
A Gathering of Spirits © Jan L. Richardson

I am coming into the home stretch of my new book, thanks be to God, and am looking forward to finishing up all the final details in time to start blogging on a more regular basis in time for Advent (over at my other blog, The Advent Door). It’s lovely also to be getting ready to celebrate my favorite trinity of days in the whole year—Halloween, the Feast of All Saints, and the Feast of All Souls. For a long while, this trio of days has been a sacred time for me—what the Celtic folk call a “thin place” in the wheel of the year. As we approach the Feast of All Saints in this year that has been particularly intense with laboring on the book, I am especially mindful of and grateful for all the sources of help, encouragement, prayer, and good cheer I have received along the way from sainted folk on both sides of the veil.

As the Feast of All Saints draws near, I invite you to visit the reflection that I wrote last year by clicking here: Feast of All Saints: A Gathering of Spirits.

Also, if you’re working with Mark 12.28-34, the gospel lection for Proper 26B/Ordinary 31B/Pentecost + 22, I invite you to visit the reflection I offered last year for Matthew’s version of this story: Crossing the Country, Thinking of Love.

Many blessings to you in these sacred days.

Art for the Journey

October 4, 2009

blog-MotherRoot
Mother Root © Jan L. Richardson

Thanks so much to everyone who stopped by this past week  and to those who sent lovely words via a comment or an email. It was great to get to provide  support in word and image to folks preparing to celebrate World Communion Sunday. I’ve thought of all of you on this day that invites us to remember that each time we gather at the Communion table, we celebrate not just with our own community but also with sisters and brothers around the world and with the Communion of Saints across the ages. It’s a wide, wide table to which Christ invites us, with all its challenges and delights. I hope you had wondrous celebrations.

Although I’m blogging more sporadically these days while I work to finish my new book, I’d love to support you in whatever way I can, particularly with artful resources. Images are always available at janrichardsonimages.com. I designed this website to make my artwork easily accessible for use in worship, education, and related venues. If you’d like to use any of the artwork that you find here at The Painted Prayerbook, you can acquire it from the website. High-resolution files of single images are available for a nominal cost, or, with an annual subscription, you can have unlimited access to all the images (within the Guidelines for Use). Although I’m not creating new art for the lectionary readings right now (though I look forward to returning to this later in the fall), the cool thing about art, especially abstract art, is that it invites an array of interpretations. So of course you are most welcome, as always, to use an image even if it wasn’t designed for the specific scripture or theme that you’re pondering.

I welcome you also to stop by janrichardson.com, where you can find creative companions for your journey—or someone else’s—in the form of art prints, greeting cards, and books.

Your use of Jan Richardson Images and your purchases at janrichardson.com go directly to support my ministry, for which I raise my entire income. Your support is a crucial form of patronage that helps make it possible for me to continue in this ministry, including providing this blog, and I am tremendously grateful for those who sustain my work in this way. I invite you to find out more about being a patron at the Be a Patron page.

Thanks so much for visiting and for all the ways you share in my ministry, including the prayers and the words you send my way—they are tremendously heartening and are manna for my path. I wish you many blessings in these October days.

P.S. Advent’s not far away—if you’re planning ahead, I have lots of artwork for the season at janrichardsonimages.com (check out “Advent & Christmas” in the categories menu), and you can visit two years’ worth of art and reflections at my other blog, The Advent Door. I look forward to adding new work there as Advent unfolds this year.

Of Supper and Saints

September 29, 2009

Thanks for stopping by…I’m still alive and kicking and up to my eyeballs working on the book. But we have a festive weekend coming up, and I didn’t want to let it pass without making note of a couple festivities and inviting you to stop by the reflections that I offered on them last year. The entries may be reheated, but they’re still full of flavor, so come sit for a spell and have a savory taste…

blog2008-best-supper1

This Sunday, October 4, is World Communion Sunday. For my reflection from last year, visit The Best Supper.

blog2008-st-francis

This Sunday also brings us the Feast of St. Francis. I invite you to visit Feast of St. Francis for my earlier reflection on one of my favorite saints.

Many blessings to you in this week of celebration!

Divine Things and Human Things

September 6, 2009

Reading from the Gospels, Year B, Proper 19/Ordinary 24/Pentecost + 15: Mark 8.27-38

I am blissfully holed up in an island house with a group of my seminary girlfriends, where we’ve been been spending the holiday weekend, as planned, talking and eating and walking and resting and reading and talking and eating some more. Today has offered gorgeous weather. Seafood pasta will be on the table in a few minutes. I’m at the computer—briefly—and writing to the sound of lively conversation between the women at this table and the women in the kitchen and to the wondrous sound and smell of garlic and butter sizzling in the skillet. These friends, who have known me nearly half my life, are some of the folks who help me remember who I am and what I hold most important.

Next Sunday’s gospel lection beckons us to ponder what we hold important, what we give our attention to, and what we’re doing with, as Mary Oliver puts it, our “one wild and precious life” (from “The Summer Day”). As the garlic sizzles, I invite you to visit a couple of reflections I’ve written on Jesus’ words to Peter about divine things and human things, and losing one’s life and saving it. A slightly shorter portion of Sunday’s gospel turned up during Lent of this year (Mark 8.31-38); you can click on “Lent 2: In Which We Set Our Minds Somewhere” below to visit my reflection on this passage. Below that, “To Have without Holding” offers a reflection on Matthew’s version of this story (Matthew 16.21-28), which appeared as a gospel lection last year.

Time for that seafood dinner and savoring the pleasures of the table with good friends. May the coming week offer you much sustenance and many delights.

Finding the Focus
Lent 2: In Which We Set Our Minds Somewhere

To Have without Holding
To Have without Holding

Finding the Feast

September 3, 2009

blog2008-08-15
The Feast Beneath © Jan L. Richardson

Reading from the Gospels, Proper 18B/Ordinary 23B/Pentecost +14: Mark 7.24-37

Greetings in the midst of a quick turnaround between trips. I recently returned home from two weeks at the wondrous Grünewald Guild in the Cascade Mountains of Washington State, where I spent a week teaching a class called The Soul of the Book—one of my absolute favorite things I do all year—and lingered for another week to work on my book-in-progress and to soak up the splendid community that the Guild attracts. With its focus on exploring the connections between art and faith, the Guild is a place where I find my tribe.

Separated from that community now that I’m back home, I’m in a bit of withdrawal, but I’ll have something of a remedy over the next few days—a little hair of the dog, as it were. I’m leaving today for my annual Labor Day reunion with a group of girlfriends from seminary. Each year we rent a house on an island off Savannah, Georgia, and spend our days talking and eating and talking and sitting by the pool and talking and walking on the beach and talking and napping and…

My time at the Guild, where I’ve taught for half a dozen summers, and my days with the seminary chicks, with whom I’ve gathered for more than fifteen years, always provide a feast for body and soul.

Sustenance for body and soul is the theme of this Sunday’s gospel lection, although, in the case of the Syrophoenician woman who pleads—with great wit—for a healing for her daughter, the feast is rather hard won. As I finish packing my bags, I invite you to visit the reflection I wrote last year on Matthew’s version of this story, where he describes the intrepid mother as a Canaanite woman. Click this link to pay a visit: The Feast Beneath.

Many thanks to those who have sent good wishes and prayers as I work on my book. I sent a portion of the manuscript to the publisher last month and am working to complete the remainder. The publication date is set for Fall 2010. Your continued prayers for this massive project are most welcome! I look forward to returning to my regular blog writing sometime this fall.

Blessings and peace to you in this turning of seasons.

[To use this image, please visit this page at janrichardsonimages.com. Thanks!]