This Sunday's scripture readings held a recurring theme of light and enlightenment; of learning how to see beyond the immediate and the obvious. But another theme was undoubtedly that of anointing. We began with Samuel anointing David - the seemingly least obvious choice for kingship, but the one chosen by God - in our First Reading (I Samuel 16) - whereupon, according to the ESV translation, God's Spirit rushed upon him, as though it couldn't wait a moment longer! And then, in the Gospel account of the man born blind (John 9), a sort-of anointing, as Jesus turns saliva and earth into a muddy paste, and into channels of healing, restoration and grace.
It was a simple moment, within a simple yet symbolically rich part of the ceremony. Each name called, in full; each one stepping forward to stand before Clare; and then... I send you to the Province of... And an eruption of cheering and applause from the congregation, as we each bent our heads to receive the blessing of that sign of the cross.
It's already Monday of the Fourth Week of Lent: a month minus two days since we began this great season of conversion and renewal. A month during which seismic events have been happening in our increasingly broken, unstable and belligerent world - and maybe in your lives, too. But throughout, a month in which Lent has continued, and we have repeatedly been invited to continue our journey into Love, accompanying Jesus to the Cross and beyond. A month which began with being marked with the sign of the cross on Ash Wednesday; and now I am reminded of a different cross which has indelibly marked me, and missioned me... Of a sign and a mystery which must permeate me, even more than that dab of oil in 2003... Much to ponder and pray with, and embrace during the rest of this season...
And in between the readings, Psalm 23 with its quietly glowing joy, and being able to say My head you have anointed with oil. Last week, as my parish's Lent scripture study group reflected on this psalm, we had a short digression into sacramental anointing, which awakened a memory in me, of a moment when I had been anointed. Not the anointing received at my Baptism, or at my Confirmation, though it was these sacraments which led to my head being anointed again, twenty-three years ago. At the end of the Mass in which we make our perpetual vows, our Superior General missions each of the newly professed one by one and by name, back to her Province, or to a new mission. Nowadays, each one is given a candle as a symbol to take with her, but twenty-three years ago the practice was still to anoint each one with a cross on her forehead.
Somehow, amid memories of all the joy and jubilation, the people and the sheer, wonderful fact of having made vows forever, I'd almost forgotten this detail: just as on the day itself, I somehow lost an awareness of an oily cross still seeping its way into my skin, and becoming as much a part of my identity and mission as my new profession cross and ring. And as I typed the word seeping, a memory stirred, of a Society invocation about allowing the cross to permeate our being... But where had I seen it? An instinct led me to my profession Mass booklet, and there I found, in the blessing prayed over our profession crosses, these words: May the meaning of this sign permeate the lives of those who wear them, for the mystery of the cross is the mystery of your love for all people.
All this, via an unrelated line in a psalm!
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