Jesus Unmasked The Raven Foundation

"Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace... for my eyes have seen your salvation."

Old Simeon says these words when he sees eight-day-old Jesus presented in the temple. He has been waiting to see the hope of the world before he dies... and now he can go in peace. The sign from God that all will be well, that redemption for a hurting and broken world is at hand, has finally come... in the form of a tiny baby.

That's the wonderfully subversive message of Christmas. God's redemption for the world doesn't lie in conquering armies, but in fully sharing our embodied humanity, starting as a completely helpless, vulnerable infant.

It's amazing to re-read the Christmas story and see anew just how weird it is. In Luke 2, we get an overview of the cosmos. The reign of Emperor Augustus, the governorship of Quirinius... we see big important people in big important places. But then we zoom in on a barn in the middle of nowhere. God is making a grand entrance not in imperial halls, but in a feeding trough for beasts of burden. The first witnesses to the miracle of Christmas are those the world doesn't usually see: an unwed mother and her faithful fiance, a bunch of farm animals, and some shepherds.

Shepherds weren't rich or powerful. They spent their nights in the fields, fending off occasional wolves, so they were rough, tough, and probably smelly to boot. And they are called to bear witness to the birth of God in flesh. Picture a gang of bikers showing up in the delivery room. That's an element of weirdness to this story, and a reminder that God comes first to those we might least expect, with a message of love, healing, and peace.

And this message of love, peace, and hope for the whole world is a baby. God comes not in power and might, but complete and utter vulnerability, depending upon a violent humanity to care for him. As one of our listeners said, "We are drawn, in love, to the most vulnerable," so God becomes vulnerable so that we can be drawn in love to God. And through the incarnation, through the vulnerability, we can come to recognize the divine spark in one another and be drawn to love each other.

God's plan to bring out our love for each other was to become Love embodied in fragile flesh. It's an amazing modeling of love and trust and hope so that the love, trust, and hope within each of us may be catalyzed.

God saves us by placing God's own self in our hands, and showing us how to Love through loving us. Every newborn child is a magnet for our love and compassion and care. Like Jesus, we are all image-bearers of Love. Like Mary, we are all carriers and bearers of Love. And the hope for the healing of the world, the hope Simeon saw in the infant Jesus... we can see that hope whenever we recognize God within ourselves and one another, as the Incarnation invites us to do.

Simeon can go in peace, for he has seen the sign of God's love in the most beautiful and subversive way possible. As we conclude Jesus Unmasked in this, our final episode, we know that we have also seen signs of God's love through walking this journey with you. Merry Christmas, and God bless you, friends.

"An account of the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah, the son of David, the son of Abraham..."

Wait! Don't roll your eyes!

We tend to skip the genealogies when we read scripture, but family trees tell stories. What story does Jesus' tell?

Basically, it tells the story that God chooses to be born through messy, complicated people into a messy and complicated humanity.

Adam and Lindsey discuss some of the stories of the people in Jesus' lineage to show how the Bible is direct about the scandalous nature about some of these people in Jesus' family tree. In Matthew's genealogy, Jesus is traced back to Abraham. Abraham is known for his loyalty to God; to his credit, he sets out into the unknown at God's direction. He also passes his wife off as his sister on multiple occasions in order to keep other men from killing him in jealous, lustful rages. So... he's complicated. David, the great king of Israel and the source of the Messianic title "Son of David" is also mentioned in this genealogy... along with the allusion to one of his most shameful crimes: arranging to have his soldier, Uriah, killed so that he could take his wife, Bethsheba, for himself. So Matthew's genealogy of Jesus does not gloss over the injustices committed by his ancestors.

This genealogy also mentions some kickass women by name. First Tamar, who is nearly killed for becoming pregnant out of wedlock but then praised for her cleverness and resourcefulness. (Check out her story in Genesis 38). Then there's Rahab, a Cananite prostitute whose shrewdness saves Joshua and his soldiers. Then Ruth, a Moabite who shows tremendous dedication and love to her mother-in-law. Both Tamar and Rahab could be condemned by a patriarchal society, but they are held up as models. Both Rahab and Ruth are foreingers coming to nations thought to be condemned by God. Their presence in Jesus' lineage reinforce God's love for the immigrant and foreigner and are part of a trajectory of understanding God from exclusion to full inclusion.

And, of course, there's Mary. Pregnant by the Holy Spirit before she is married to Joseph, she might have received a lot of grief and scorn from her contemporaries. But in referencing other women whose sexuality is not condemned but praised in scripture, Matthew's Gospel subtly begins to subvert some the patriarchy.

This genealogy is not only scandalous and subversive. It also tells a story of redemption. Jesus' family tree isn't pristine... neither are ours. We are all messy, complicated people and products of messy, complicated families. Even so, during Advent, we remember that we are all nurturing the living God inside us. God doesn't withdraw from messy, complicated humans, but grows within each of us. Whatever our past, whatever others may think of us, even (or especially) if we are rejected or misunderstood by the world around us, we are still nuturing the living God within ourselves.

Our Christmas episode of Jesus Unmasked will be next Wednesday at 9 PT, 11 CT, live on the Raven Foundation Facebook page. Please join us.

"Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name."

That's a powerful self-affirmation for an unwed pregnant teen!

An umarried teen girl, from long before Jesus until, sadly, today, could be called many things, but blessed isn't usually one of them.

Mary was truly a badass.

We begin with this Advent Season with the Magnificat because Advent is a time of pregnancy. We are all Mary right now. It is a strange and even fearful as well as wonderful thing to recognize that God is growing within us, preparing to burst forth and be born anew.

But Mary isn't afraid. Despite the risk, despite the fact that carrying a baby with no biological connection to her betrothed could be life-threatening (though there is no evidence that first-century Judaism carried out the most stringent penalties of the Torah), despite the fact that even if her life were spared, a single mother's life was even harder then than it is now... despite all of this, Mary is not afraid. Mary is empowered.

Her "yes" to God is not meek submission to patriarchal authority. It's an enthusiastic agreement to partner with God in overturning the powers of oppression. "He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty." Mary is empowered to carry God within her and bear God to the world because Mary knows God. While the Powers that Be try to claim that a world of oppression and sacrifice and violence is righteous, Mary knows that God is coming to turn that world -- turn our world -- upside-down. God is with the marginalized, vulnerable, and oppressed. God is in the most vulnerable of us, even as God was in Mary.

The transformation of an oppressive world will not come through violence, but through fearless love. Mary's love for God, for the poor and vulnerable of the world, and for herself, is powerfully subversive. God's love doesn't exclude the powerful and the rich, but it does humble them and empty them so that they can find worth not in status or material Gods, but in the image of God within their fellow human beings.

Mary might have endured scorn and ridicule from the outside world, but she loves herself because she knows that God within her loves her. Let's follow Mary's example by loving ourselves and one another and throwing down the gauntlet on a world of oppression. We are getting ready to bear the new life of God into the world.

Join us this Advent Season for more Jesus Unmasked, Wednesdays at 9 PT/ 11 CT live on the Raven Foundation Facebook page!

"Then Jesus began to weep."

Jesus weeps with all of us.

On All Saints Day, we remember our loved ones who have gone on before us. In some ways, this past year has been one of extraordinary loss. Covid-19 and other diseases have robbed us of beloved friends and family members. This pandemic has also taken some of our sense of normalcy and security. It has been hard, and Jesus mourns with us in our loss.

Jesus also wept for Lazarus.

When Jesus arrives at the home of Lazarus' sisters, Mary says to Jesus, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." It's a poignant statement of faith and blame and heartbreak... and it's probably true. Jesus had been told of Lazarus' illness days before, but he had taken his time getting there.

Was there remorse mingled with Jesus' heartbreak when he saw how devastated Mary and Martha were? Perhaps. Whenever scripture leaves us wondering if there had been a more compassionate path to take, that's the Holy Spirit guiding us. I think it's good to question even Jesus sometimes.

But when Jesus weeps, his tears show us that it's never too late for compassion. I wonder, are tears part of the miracle? Could Jesus have raised Lazarus from the dead if he had not first wept for him? I don't know.

One thing we can know is that Jesus' tears helped raise Mary and Martha from the dead. To see compassion to the point of tears in one's hour of despair is a great, healing comfort. Jesus showed his love not just for Lazarus, but for Mary and Martha too, in that moment, and that probably helped them to carry on. That probably helped roll the stone of grief away from their hearts even as the stone was rolled away from Lazarus' tomb.

When we suffer loss and grief, it can feel like a stone is sitting on our hearts too. Despair can crush and numb us, making us feel like we aren't worth while. This passage shows us that even when things feel too late, it is never too late for compassion. It is never too late to help roll the stone away from someone's heart. In reaching out to others in their time of pain, even if all we can do is weep with them, we participate in little, daily resurrections. Every day, we have opportunities to give each other hope. Every day, we can follow Jesus in rolling away the stones and helping people walk through the miniature deaths of despair back into life.

Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead, but Lazarus still lives in a dangerous world where he will die again. Jesus raises us back to life again and again not to escape the risks and challenges of this world, but to face them, and to follow him in infusing more compassion so that our small deaths can be transformed into deeper, richer, more abundant life.

Lindsey and Adam talk about why grief and compassion -- co-suffering with the vulnerable -- are necessary for the transformative work we are called to do as we follow All Saints Episode of Jesus Unmasked. We also lift up our prayers for those who have died who are on our hearts and minds, and affirm that we are connected to them in the embrace of Love which bridges life and death. Join our community and conversation Wednesdays at 9 am PT/ 11 am CT live on the Raven Foundation Facebook page.

"Go; your faith has made you well."

Jesus says this after he heals the blind beggar Bartimaeus. What are we supposed to make of this verse?

Faith healing verses have been grossly abused. Sometimes, the idea that faith can heal has been used to shame and frighten those who most need comfort and love. Saying "if you only believe and pray hard enough" can actively harm. In the midst of a pandemic where some have opted for prayer over masks, well...

But maybe there are some ways in which faith can heal. A closer look at the context is illuminating.

"Bartimaeus" means "son of the unclean one." Ouch.

He calls out to Jesus as "Son of David." There's a lot going on there.

The one deemed "unclean" reaches out to the son of the great king, a Messianic title. So Bartimaeus, while blind, recognizes Jesus as Israel's great hope, the one who will restore Israel to her glory and usher in the Messianic age of peace. Between the "son of the great king" and the "son of the unclean," most people would expect there to be an insurmountable chasm. But Bartimaeus believes in himself enough to call out to Jesus. And when others try to silence him, he calls louder.

Jesus subverts expectations of cleanliness and worthiness. He is David's ancestor not by blood but adoption; to those skeptical of the virgin birth, Jesus would have been the "unclean" one. Also, he was born in a barn. Jesus' own cleanliness and righteousness and worthiness were rejected when he was killed as a criminal on the cross. So Jesus was in solidarity with Bartimaeus and others deemed unworthy.

This turns ideas of "worthiness" upside-down. Injury, disability, illness... none of these are punishments for sin, and none of these make us less worthy or less loved. Jesus followed merciful, compassionate interpretations of Judaism. (Lest we read this text antisemitically, merciful interpretations of Judaism were not rare; mercy was the faith of the prophets.)

Those who would try to say that Bartimaeus was unworthy of mercy because his blindness was punishment for sin might try to suggest that they were the faithful ones. But faithfulness isn't limiting mercy or compassion, and it isn't shaming others. Faithfulness is showing active mercy and love.

If faith means not giving up on yourself when things seem bleak and knowing your infinite worth even when others deny it, then faith can indeed help to heal. Jesus' healings weren't so much miraculous as compassionate. To use these stories judgmentally or predatorily is to get it precisely backwards.

Do we, not just as individuals, but as a nation, treat those who are disabled or ill as if they deserve their fate? When people are denied medical care for lack of affordability, when a world of inequity prevents people from even seeking the help they need, then we haven't learned enough from the story of Bartimaeus and Jesus. I pray one day our faith in each other drives us to replace systemic greed and apathy with systems of compassion.

Adam, Lindsey, and friends discuss about how to understand faith healings – and how not to – this episode of Jesus Unmasked. Come join the conversation every Wednesday at 9 am PT/ 11 am CT on the Raven Foundation Facebook page.

"Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism I am baptized with?"

That's an ominous question if ever there was one.

John and James want to share in Jesus' glory, but little do they know what they are asking. The reality they are living through must be so disconnected from their expectations that they can't even process what Jesus is telling them. After all, Jesus has just said he is going to be killed, but James and John are asking for key roles in his cabinet in a newly appointed kingdom after enemies are vanquished and Jesus and his followers come out "on top."

That's not going to happen. Jesus isn't trying to come out on top of the world's power structure; he's overturning it completely.

Jesus's glory isn't a throne or a seat of power; it's a cross. Complete solidarity with and compassion for the outcast and despised and demonized and criminalized means that Jesus will take his place among them. He will drink the cup of wrath that humanity pours out on those who challenge the powers of greed and empire, and be baptized into death and burial. Are James and John ready to follow in Jesus' footsteps? Are we?

Jesus tells James and John that they will indeed drink the cup and be baptized with the baptism, but to sit at the right and left of Jesus isn't up to him, but is for those "for whom it has been prepared." Literally, two people will die on crosses on either side of Jesus. Who "prepares" them? The violent world prepares crosses and other terrible fates for people. Jesus is saying that the violence that happens to us when we follow him is beyond our control. We can't control the violence of others. To transform a world of violence, we are called to transform our own violence and then live in such a way as to bring more love, more trust, more compassion into the world. We can only control our own violence... and our own love... by the grace of God.

Finally, James and John seem to think there will be power and status on the other side of the ordeals they will follow Jesus into. But according to Jesus, those who would be great must become servants. God's Kingdom, the Beloved Community, doesn't have high-ranking officials, but mutual servants. It's a place where we care for each other, not have others wait on us. After all, God in flesh came to earth not to be served, but to serve.

Lindsey and Adam and friends discuss all of this and more in this episode of Jesus Unmasked. Join the conversation live every Wednesday at 9 am PT, 11 am CT, on the Raven Foundation Facebook page.