Who are my mother, my brother?

We sometimes hear the related words of Jesus "whoever does not hate his father, mother..." and tremble in disbelief.  Yet, if we get past our first glance, our literal translations/understanding, then what Jesus says carries a great truth.  Our truest self is not determined by our family of origin or the ones we create in adulthood.  Our identity comes from an even deeper source when we open ourselves to the true meaning of community.  In a culture that prizes individuality and heritage this can be a great challenge.

As we let go and redefine ourselves in faith there is the ongoing renewal of our understanding of family.  Sadly, this is not always a process or journey that the church undertakes well.  We substitute family, communitas, for a membership/institutional model because it is easier to manage than the messiness of relationship.  If I focus on keeping a polite distance, I don't have to see your hurt, rejoice in your gladness, and I can remain focused on my own little inner world and its warbling.  Jesus challenges this:  who is my mother, my brother?  You are.

At the heart of this awareness is our baptismal theology.  We truly die to our life as we know it and rise to newness, transformation, and the Way following immersion.  Will it all happen in the instant of a moment?  Yes and no.  Will we have to recommit ourselves to this reality over and over again?  Yes, likely.  Every day gives us the opportunity to start over, to leave behind who we were to become who we are.  We define most of our lives not only by our relationships but by our productivity.  Who are we when we are not doing something, not earning a living, but just living?

Lent is a season in which we are invited to die many deaths.  We are invited to a new birth, a resuscitation, and a resurrection.  I confess that I am somewhat fond of my family of origin (*wink*);  in no way do I hate them as scripture says provokingly.   Yet I am also fond of my faith family: the brothers and sisters whom I worship with each Sunday.  Aside from all else we do in the place we call church this is where I find my identity, my partners in the journey of faith.  But, to take up Jesus' challenge: I am also connected to every person I encounter on a daily basis, sometimes even more so than my own family or faith partners.  What a radical transformation of vision to see the world in this way.

As we spring forward this evening, I ask myself in what way must I spring forward toward this greater connection, this service of others in love?  What do I need to let go of?  What am I grasping so desperately? How might I transcend my own needs to be fully present to others?  How might I live into the death of my baptism so that I might find the newness of life?  In all moments of hours gained and lost, I will hold fast to this promise: