The Hands

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Henri Nouwen’s seminal work “The Return of the Prodigal Son”. Rembrandt’s painting of the same name has hung in the Hermitage in Saint Petersburg, Russia since 1766. Nouwen spent four hours looking at it, and endless time after in his return to life and ministry. His book is a must read, as he identifies parts of himself in every character of the story, probing the movements of the younger son’s leaving and return, the father’s restoration of sonship, the elder son’s vengefulness, and the father’s compassion. Themes of homecoming, affirmation, and reconciliation linger as invitations for that part of us that knows loneliness, dejection, jealousy or anger.

Poignant for me is Nouwen’s conclusion that “The true center of Rembrandt’s painting is the hands of the Father. On them all the light is concentrated; on them the eyes of the bystanders are focused; in them mercy becomes flesh; upon them forgiveness, reconciliation and healing come together, and through them not only the tired son, but also the worn-out father find their rest.” Finally reflecting on the call of Jesus to “Be compassionate as your Father is compassionate”, Henri concludes that “The return to the Father is ultimately the challenge to become the Father…I am destined to step into my Father’s place and offer to others the same compassion that he has offered me.”

I come back to this reflection each year when Lent is on the horizon, and the story of the passionate love and self-sacrifice of Jesus is told once again. His hands will be pierced through, only after he carries the weight of his own cross. His scarred but resurrected hands will hug Peter and the rest in restoration.

Take some time to look at and meditate on the hands of the father Rembrandt has for us, and look too with some slow time at your own again hands, and consider what weapons of loving they have become for God’s use.

Nouwen concludes, “As I look at my own aging hands, I know that they have been given to me to stretch out toward all who suffer, to rest upon the shoulders of all who come, and to offer blessing that emerges from the immensity of God’s love.”

A blessed Lent comes close to us. Those hands, and your hands.

Peter Hawkinson

The Hands

Download

Henri Nouwen’s seminal work “The Return of the Prodigal Son”. Rembrandt’s painting of the same name has hung in the Hermitage in Saint Petersburg, Russia since 1766. Nouwen spent four hours looking at it, and endless time after in his return to life and ministry. His book is a must read, as he identifies parts of himself in every character of the story, probing the movements of the younger son’s leaving and return, the father’s restoration of sonship, the elder son’s vengefulness, and the father’s compassion. Themes of homecoming, affirmation, and reconciliation linger as invitations for that part of us that knows loneliness, dejection, jealousy or anger.

Poignant for me is Nouwen’s conclusion that “The true center of Rembrandt’s painting is the hands of the Father. On them all the light is concentrated; on them the eyes of the bystanders are focused; in them mercy becomes flesh; upon them forgiveness, reconciliation and healing come together, and through them not only the tired son, but also the worn-out father find their rest.” Finally reflecting on the call of Jesus to “Be compassionate as your Father is compassionate”, Henri concludes that “The return to the Father is ultimately the challenge to become the Father…I am destined to step into my Father’s place and offer to others the same compassion that he has offered me.”

I come back to this reflection each year when Lent is on the horizon, and the story of the passionate love and self-sacrifice of Jesus is told once again. His hands will be pierced through, only after he carries the weight of his own cross. His scarred but resurrected hands will hug Peter and the rest in restoration.

Take some time to look at and meditate on the hands of the father Rembrandt has for us, and look too with some slow time at your own again hands, and consider what weapons of loving they have become for God’s use.

Nouwen concludes, “As I look at my own aging hands, I know that they have been given to me to stretch out toward all who suffer, to rest upon the shoulders of all who come, and to offer blessing that emerges from the immensity of God’s love.”

A blessed Lent comes close to us. Those hands, and your hands.

Peter Hawkinson

One Word

Maybe you have seen by now the unfolding sacramental “scandal” unfolding in Arizona. Rev. Andres Arango has said, “WE baptize you in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” he was supposed to say “I baptize you.” That one word, that one pronoun according to Bishop Thomas Olmsted of the Diocese of Phoenix, nullifies every one of those thousand baptisms. The Bishop says, “If you were baptized using the wrong words, that means your baptism is invalid, and you are not baptized.”

As those rooted in a free church tradition, we must bristle at such pompous and really un-graceful Church platitudes and policies. We must speak and act as those who love the Church when we are convinced the Body of Christ has indeed wandered away from the God of all blessing. The Vatican’s argument is theological, that “the issue with using “we” is that it is not the community that baptizes a person, rather, it is Christ alone, and Him alone, who presides at all of the sacraments.”

I am left to wonder how we can render a baptism, a means of grace, a work of God “invalid”. I love how my colleague Judy Howard Peterson reflects in her blog: “The Church is willing to do this because of their devotion to a religious formula that is undergirded by a belief that God cares more about each piece of the formula being followed than the peace of God’s people.”

Father Arango, poor Father Arango, who never meant to make any point, and who just spent his days and years pouring out the grace of God onto human beings, is now regretful: “I sincerely apologize for any inconvenience my actions have caused and genuinely ask for your prayers, forgiveness, and understanding.” bristle too at the thought that he needs forgiving, at least for his one mis-spoken word.

The point is, I think, that our God has become way, way too small, if we are in fact to believe and declare that we can decide that whatever God decides to do is invalid, null and void, a mistake. The pastor still said, after all, to one blessed and beloved soul after another “We baptize you in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” How dare we even think we can call that invalid? Whether it be I or We, it is God’s work, and God’s love acted out for the one brought, or who comes as we say, “to the Church for the sacrament of Baptism.”

God is at work working God’s own purposes out and needs no help from us to make sure it’s all kosher. Those of us who claim to work for God — pastors, leaders, indeed all Jesus followers — we need to find humility again, and remember breath by breath that God is God, and we are not. We need to recognize our constant temptation and tendency to turn the power we have been given into something abusive to real human people.

Pastor Arango has no need to ask forgiveness for baptizing God’s beloved ones.

It is we who are the Church, all of us together, who might fall to our knees, and start again listening to the pleading words of Jesus to the Pharisees, and his disciples too: “Go and learn what this means, I desire mercy, not sacrifice.” (Matthew 9:13)

We have a long, long way to go. Let us with humility, repeatedly, say so.

Peter Hawkinson