I didn't exactly keep it a secret from the members of my congregation that I was not pleased with my sermon this morning. It guess it wasn't exactly horrifying -- but it lacked the poetry that I had hoped for in the completed manuscript that I hope to preach. I guess that's what I wanted: completion. The ideas were there. And yet, the document was not as fluid and poetic as this preacher chick might like.
My sermon focused on the stange wonder that "the heavens were opened" (Matthew 3:16, NRSV). The very idea fascinates me and I'm still trying to figure out what exactly this is about.
One of the themes that I was struggling with in my own justice seeking as I imagined the heavens opening was influenced by the unseasonable 60 degree weather in January. Outside of the ancient worldview, I was perplexed about what weather might mean for this understanding of heaven opening. I hinted at this in my sermon as I referenced an article in our local paper -- but it was not something that I particularly emphasized in my sermon. This was especially true in the first service this morning where I didn't reference the article or really talk about global warming at all. And yet, heaven opened when one quiet woman asked me: "What will happen to the ritual of baptism when there is no longer any water in our world?"