“The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me…” (Is. 61:1).
This is the homestretch of Lent and Holy Week, the straight bit that follows the last bend of the racecourse before the finish line. With this Chrism liturgy we are rounding the last turn and going flat out, hell for leather to the end. With any luck you are opening up the distance between yourself and whatever’s behind you, whatever’s in pursuit this Holy Week: for the ordained the inevitable sermon preparation, bulletin production, or maybe even the devil himself. Stuff happens in the holiest seasons. You know “the devil prowls around like a roaring lion” at Holy Week, “seeking someone to devour” (1 Pet. 5:8), and so we have to race hard to keep ahead. Fans of the Steeplechase take note. Or to vary the metaphor to baseball, we’re now rounding third base and it’s time to pour it on so that we can arrive safely at home. It would be a shame to be picked off so close to the plate, after all the labors of Lent.
The oils we bless today have their origin in this nexus of ideas, believe it or not, in the usage of the gymnasium and the athletic contests of the ancient pagan world. They were part of the training regimen and then of the competition itself, from which they passed to primitive medical practice (the origin of the term “salvation”) and then to sacred sacrificial use, in paganism as well as in Israel under the Old Covenant. Exodus contains at least one formula for making holy oil (Ex. 30: 23-25), and what was sacred or consecrated was anointed with it: the furniture of the sanctuary and the tabernacle itself, as well as the kings and priests of Israel. Messiah means “anointed”. These holy oils we bless today are for the priestly people of God, “the kingdom of priests” (Rev. 1:6) that Revelation describes, to equip them in various ways for the contest, for their calling and ministry as God’s chosen servants. “The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because he has anointed me…” (Lk. 4:18), as Jesus quotes from the Prophet in our Gospel today.
It’s a time of stretching for all of us, and not simply because it’s Holy Week. Paul the Apostle uses the competitive metaphor of the race to describe the Christian life. There is training that is necessary, training that requires us to stretch the spiritual muscles and to stretch the self as well; and in the competition, as he says, we have to run so that we can win (1 Cor. 9:24). Christians need to be on the move, to get in the race. This is an age that requires pretty fit followers of Jesus Christ. Remember the prophet Jeremiah, “If you have raced with foot-runners and they have wearied you, how will you compete with horses? And if in a safe land you fall down, how will you fare in the jungle of the Jordan?” (Jer. 12:5). How indeed will we fare?
Stretching is wholly appropriate for disciples, those who have accepted the discipline of the Christian life. What’s true for the baptized gets focused in particular for those who accept “holy order,” those of us who are ordained to this end, that the People of God may gather and celebrate the sacraments of new life. So it’s appropriate for us to renew our own vows, to stretch ourselves in this way.
A wise old priest once told me that he felt no need to renew his vows since he’d never broken them. That made me feel silly, but with deference to my elders I take his point. Nevertheless our renewal has significance, not in the mending of vows that have been broken but in the recalling of vows once made and now made once again. It’s part of the training, part of the warm up, the stretching that is incumbent upon all Christians and especially upon those who may have the devil himself behind them in hot pursuit. We allow ourselves to be stretched so that we can be faithful followers of Jesus Christ. The process is painful because it expands who we are, and also requires that we leave behind parts of ourselves that we are pretty fond of. We can only do this through God’s grace, through the anointing that is the gift of the Spirit.
Remember who we are running with, not the devil who may be behind us but the Messiah who’s far out in front (cf. Heb. 12:1-2). We’re followers, after all. When it comes to stretching we have the example of the Master, who stretched out his arms upon the cross so that he might draw the whole world to himself. His death and resurrection means life and health for all of us. His outstretched arms bear the burden of salvation. They are also arms that are open in welcome, greeting the prodigal human race as it makes its weary sprint for the finish. We do this through grace that comes out to greet us and which goes before us as well. God grant you and me and all of us together the grace to celebrate this holy season and to be stretched and transformed by it.
- The Rt. Rev’d John Bauerschmidt, Bishop of Tennessee