Words are powerful.
Despite the old nursery saying, “Sticks and stones can break my bones but words
can never hurt me,” most of us know the pain of hurtful words. The words I just
repeated, in fact, where taught to some of us as a way of defiance, of
shrugging off the hurt of another person’s cruel words. And the fact that we
were taught these words as children says something even more powerful. From the
beginning of our lives, words have the power to wound.
Words also have the
power to heal. Just as words can create woe and wounds in our most vulnerable
places; words can also be used to help and heal.
I believe one of
the reasons words hold such power over us has to do with their rhythm. Some
indigenous peoples in various tribes and nations believe every person, animal
and object has a song to sing. That makes sense to me. It makes sense because
the rhythm of what we say is as important as the words themselves. A shouted,
“Stop it!” in any language has the power to halt us in our tracks. A parent’s
quiet murmuring to a baby doesn’t have to make any sense at all; it simply has
to have a soothing rhythm. Someone in my family – I really don’t recall whom,
but probably my mother – used to say, “Now then; now then.” If you thought much
about those two words used together, they make no sense at all. But the
repeated rhythm, accompanied by gentle patting on the back, was soothing.
This is why many of
us react to poetry and song even those of us who claim not to get much out
either or both. It’s not only the power of the words, but the rhythm that
shapes our understanding. And just as a new or startling rhythm combined with
familiar words can shake us up, so can familiar words and phrases with their
accustomed rhythms soothe our souls and help us feel safe.
This morning’s
reading from the first chapter of the Gospel of John is an ancient rhythm. It’s
a rhythm that translates even to another language. Some of what we hear from
the Gospel of John was likely a hymn or song of praise. The words have great
power for us, and so does the rhythm. The words tell us a story of Christ from
the beginning, and the rhythms make the words sink into us and become part of
us.
There, I think, is
the real power rhythmic words hold for us. The words become part of us. They
sink into our souls. But words also can become so much a part of us they form
mere background mumbling or are so automatic we hardly hear them anymore.
By contrast, I
remember when I first read scripture and discovered this prologue from John’s
gospel. I was completely awed and taken in by the sheer power and rhythm of the
words. I hadn’t any idea what they really meant, but they spoke to my soul.
I had the same
experience with each Eucharistic Prayer when I joined the church. This was all
new to me. And each Eucharistic Prayer was new and exciting because it told me
different things about God, about our theology, about being an Episcopalian. I
have been uncomfortable from time to time when the words have changed, but I
have been comforted by the rhythms even when I wasn’t sure I liked the words.
And sometimes I didn’t like the words because they challenged me. The words
made me think about God differently.
So it is with the
words of Baptism that we are about to say over the water of baptism and the
words we say when we baptize Matilda and Cole. The words are ancient words,
translated into our own tongue, yet the same or similar words have been said
for centuries. The words have power, influence, and poetry. They welcome Cole
and Matilda into the circle of God and the church. All things come from God, and
the words said at baptism acknowledge that these children come from God and
will return to God. The promises we make on behalf of these children surround
and sustain their relationship with the God of the Trinity: God the eternal
One, God our Savior Jesus Christ, and God the Holy Spirit. These are powerful
words for a powerful sacrament: the sacrament of Holy Baptism that makes us members
of the community of both the living and the dead. These are powerful words that
sink into our hearts and become part of us and charge us to do God’s work in a
world desperately in need of loving hearts, tender hands, and challenging
words. This is poetry that moves us to do God’s work.
So it is with the
poetry of the prologue of the Gospel of John. These eighteen verses, take us by
word and rhythm through the entire story of our Lord Jesus Christ. Not the
details; just the essential things we need to know. Nothing I could say to you,
no commentary, no sermon, is as powerful as these words that speak to our souls
about God’s story of our Lord Jesus Christ.
“In the beginning
was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the
beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not
one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the
life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the
darkness did not overcome it. There was a man sent from God, whose name was
John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe
through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light.
The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. He was in
the world, and the world came into being through him; yet the world did not
know him. He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him.
But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become
children of God, who were born, not of blood or the will of the flesh or the
will of man, but of God. And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we
have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and
truth. (John testified to him and
cried out, "This was he of whom I said, 'He who comes after me ranks ahead
of me because he was before me.'") From his fullness we have all received,
grace upon grace. The law indeed was given through Moses; grace and truth came
through Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God. It is God the only Son, who is
close to the Father's heart, who has made him known.[1] AMEN.
The
Rev Nicolette Papanek
©2017
