Sometimes, God Can’t Be Contained Transfiguration, Last Epiphany 2017

Have you ever been transfigured-- so affected by an experience that your actual appearance—how you look, how you carry yourself, changes? It can be negative—when something horrible happens and the wind is taken out of your sails--or positive, you’re in love, you’ve gotten your life back on track after some rough spots.
Something about how you appear, how you present yourself to the world changes.
But sometimes the causes of these transformations, these transfigurations aren’t as clear-- they’re more mysterious.
Mary Oliver describes such experiences in her poem, Mysteries, Yes:
“Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous to be understood”----or even explained. These mysteries are experiential and describing them, let alone understanding them, is impossible ----but the affect? That’s life-changing.
In Celtic spirituality these are known as Thin Places.
Thin Places are those moments when we feel especially close to the Divine. When one feels, simultaneously, incredibly small and yet larger than life; one with God, one with all of Creation.
Maybe  it occurs when witnessing a gorgeous sunset, or witnessing the birth of a child.
Or in the midst of an ordinary day—driving the car, washing the dishes, balancing the checkbook. Thin Places are available to all of us at any time and in any place.
Thin places occur when we let the guard of our humanity down long enough for the fullness of the divine to breakthrough.
I think that the Transfiguration was a Thin Place for James, John and Peter. I don’t know exactly happened on top of that mountain, but I do know that something happened. Something transfigurative for Jesus, transformative for his friends and sacred for us all.
It helps to set the stage a bit: After weeks of hearing from the Sermon on the Mount, today we skip ahead in Matthew’s Gospel, to the 17th Chapter….Jesus is trying to get the apostles ready. They’re headed to Jerusalem and all that will happen there. Jesus needs his friends with him for this journey. He needs them to get it. He needs them ready for the increased scrutiny, for the arrest, for the torture, for the death, for Jesus being gone. They need to feel all of this, for only in feeling it---really feeling it---will they be open to the ultimate Thin Place: the glory wonder and awe of the Resurrection.
And they aren’t getting it.
 Maybe they don’t want to, maybe they simply can’t. And so they go up the mountain. Jesus needed to get away and in his wisdom Jesus knew they—James John and Peter needed to get away too.
It’s only then, when they shut off all the other noise, that this thing happens. Jesus’ appearance, his countenance changes. One commentator describes what happened like this:  “The indwelling Deity darted out its rays through the veil of Jesus’ flesh; His face shone with Divine majesty, like the sun in its strength” (citation lost). At that transfiguring moment, God’s glory could no longer be contained within Jesus…it burst forth.
Sometimes, God’s glory just can’t be contained. Sometimes it over flows, overwhelming our senses.
That’s what happens in Thin places: we’re overwhelmed by God’s Glory. In Thin Places, God’s Glory can no longer be contained.
Gabriel’s annunciation to Mary was a Thin Place, as was Christmas morning, Jesus’ baptism, and the Presentation of Jesus in the temple. Each of these moments were times when, in the course of a routine action---Mary going about the household duties of a young Galilean woman, the birth of a baby to a poor traveling couple, the baptism of a follower of John, the fulfilling of  purity laws by a devout Jewish couple, and the quick trip up a mountain for some retreat time with friends----in the course of these ordinary events, God’s radiance bursts through, our efforts to shut the Divine out of our lives, the noise of daily life which tries to outshine the radiance of God, fails, and we are overwhelmed with what is pure and holy and sacred.
Our humanity can’t manage a steady diet of this radiance. We spend a lot of time and energy layering “life” upon the in-breaking of the Holy—the radiance of God. Therefore, moments of the Holy, Thin Place experiences, are usually fleeting—not because God retreats, but, being overwhelmed, we reach back into the familiar—the noise of daily life--to ground ourselves in the routine, the ordinary, the familiar and unchallenging ebb and flow of our days.
This is why we read the story of the Transfiguration right before Lent. We’re embarking on a stripping down, a quieting, a simplifying of our daily life. We’re preparing ourselves for an encounter with the Divine and this story, , plants something deep within us. Something transformative, that, as we settle into the barrenness of Lent, marinates, stirs, grows. So that, like James, John and Peter, when we walk that walk to Calvary, when we weep with Mary at the foot of the cross, when we linger in the seeming finality of death on Holy Saturday we are strengthened. Strengthened to feel that loss, to realize what life is like without the Divine Radiance of God through Christ. So that, just when the rigors of Lent, the nakedness of the desert, and the restriction of discipline becomes too much, when our senses long for stimulation, we stumble upon the empty tomb….overwhelmed –not by the sights and sounds of our daily world-- but by the radiance of the Divine which, this time, will burst forth from our own skin, crying out Alleluia, God is alive, Alleluia, we are alive.
Amen.

1 Epiphany 7A Trinity Hamburg 2.19.17 Our Enemies are Our Friends

 +There's a great children's book called Let's Be Enemies. The story is all about James and John, two boys who had been friends but because John found James to be a bit too bossy, are now enemies.
You can’t be enemies, in the true sense of the word, without first being friends.
“Enemy” is derived from the Latin inimicus, “In,” meaning “Not” and “amicus” meaning friend. An enemy is someone who is, decidedly NOT A FRIEND.
Now I know we toss the term enemy around when referencing less personal relationships---Isis is our enemy, but when considering the true meaning of the word---enemy as in notafriend---we get closer to what scholars believe Jesus meant in this part of Matthew's gospel.
In Let’s Be Enemies, John, the narrator, is ticked off at his former friend and current “notafriend,” his enemy, James.He spends most of the story talking about retaliation-- what he isn’t going to let James do now that they’re enemies-and what John is going to do to James---revenge.
John engages in what Jesus is telling us to avoid---retaliation and revenge in response to being betrayed, violated, cheated or in some way disgraced.
In the days of Jesus, this code of conduct, as outlined in the Book of Leviticus, was the law of the land.
In The Message a contemporary English translation of today’s Gospel, the last verse, “Be perfect as your heavenly father is perfect” is translated to read: "In a word, what I'm saying is, Grow up. You're kingdom subjects. Now live like it. Live out your God-created identity. Live generously and graciously toward others, the way God lives toward you."
John in Let’s Be Enemies is acting like a child. Which is appropriate since he IS a child, but to us, Jesus is saying---“enough with revenge and retaliation—an eye for an eye will just make the whole world blind (Ghandi) Love is the way forward. It’s the only way forward.”  
Now, Jesus isn’t telling us that we should be some type of doormat for abusive behavior. Nor is He telling us that we must passively accept the misfortunes of life. Today’s Gospel is telling us that when we’re treated badly, when our feelings are hurt, when our trust is broken and when our faith in another is betrayed, we shouldn’t “beat them at their own game” or give them a taste of their own medicine.” That’s the behavior of the playground, of children, of immaturity. The behavior of the grown up, the behavior of one mature in the faith of God is to respond to betrayal, lies, and hurt feelings with Love. To realize that the one who is behaving badly is the one who’s hurting, the one who’s lost, the one who’s stuck on the playground of retaliation and revenge. We are to the best of our ability, treat “our enemies,” like God treats us, with love and patience, in generosity and graciousness.
[Now hear me loud and clear, I’m not saying that we should stay in dangerous situations. People in situations of physical, sexual, economic or emotional abuse need to first treat themselves with love, and get into a safe place surrounded by trusted people. God does not want us to be martyrs.] But, outside of these abusive situations it’s pretty clear: we are to love our enemies.
I get it…this isn’t easy. Who wants to love the very person/people that has hurt or infuriated us? But, as we all know, being followers—authentic followers---of Jesus Christ isn’t always easy.
But it is pretty simple. All Jesus asks us to do is to be like him and he---even when he was hanging on the cross---had one clear and consistent position when it came to other people: he loved them. He didn’t always like them, he didn’t always agree with them, he didn’t always enjoy them. But he loved them. Doing this isn’t easy, but it is necessary, because it’s the foundational principle of our faith.
In Let’s Be Enemies, James and John learn that not being friends is a lot harder than being friends, so they make up:
After walking away from each other for a time, John approaches James and says:
“Hey James?”
What?”
“Let’s roller skate.”
“OK. Have a pretzel, John.”
“Thank you, James.”
There’s a lesson here----as children of God we have a responsibility to rise above pettiness, to rise above reacting out of anger, to rise above retaliation. We are Children of a God who will give us all the love we need, who will soothe our wounds with a love which is beyond all understanding. And, just like the child who finds solace when wrapped in the arms of a loving parent, we too find solace in the loving arms of our God, who will—who does-- make everything better. So better that, once the sting of our anger, our hurt and our betrayal is washed away by that Love, we can, like John, turn to the James’ in our life and say, “want to go roller skating, want a pretzel” Because, through the grace of our loving God, I am able to forgive you, you are able to forgive me and together we can move on.
So Let’s be Enemies, Let’s Be Friends, remembering that we are the children of a God who gives us the grace to turn the other cheek, to love the unlovable and to leave the playground of revenge and retaliation behind.
Amen.

Mary’s Eyes Reveal Our Truth The Presentation, tr. February 5, 2017 Grace Lckprt

+ Today we’ve transferred the Feast of the Presentation from Thursday to today. The Presentation commemorates 40 days after Jesus’ birth which, in ancient Judaism, was the day when parents brought their first born son to the temple for a ceremonial sacrifice of thanksgiving.
The Presentation is also a turning point in the church year--as our focus shifts from the manger to the cross, from the wonder of "God among us" to the wonder of the “He is Risen.”
 Several years ago when Pete and I were serving at Good Shepherd in Buffalo, one of our parishioners liked to paint paintings of favorite Bible stories. He knew I loved the story of the Presentation so he painted me his depiction of the story. I love it and I can tell you what I love about it: Mary’s eyes. They show a combination of surprise, fear, and wonder. When I look at them I imagine that she was hoping all the strange events: the angel, the magi, the heavenly hosts, had ended, and that life would return to normal.
But of course, there's nothing normal about the Savior of the world.
Now things did settle a bit: The angels went back to normal angel activity. The shepherds continued to pasture their flocks....  Jesus did what babies do—he ate, he cried, he slept, he grew----life continued its usual course as if nothing had happened. Joseph and Mary did what parents of a newborn do—they oohed and ahhed, they had sleepless nights and on
the fortieth day they traveled to Jerusalem to complete the purification, presentation and sacrifice traditions expected of them... it was the normal thing to do.
But there's nothing normal about this story, is there?
Now, the trip down to Jerusalem was unremarkable---no one noticed them, no one paid any attention to the baby they held.
The baby who will save the world. They entered the temple and offered the usual sacrifice for poor people, two doves.  The priest approached them and automatically laid his hands on Jesus, as if this was just another first born son. He noticed nothing special about this child, Jesus was just one among many, it was a regular, ordinary day.
 But then an older priest, eccentric at best, crazy at worst, burst onto the scene and headed straight to Mary and Joseph. He knew who this child was! He knew, deep in his bones, that this was the One for whom he yearned, the one for whom all of Israel had yearned: the Anointed, the Messiah.
For decades, Simeon had been praying that he would live to see the coming of the Messiah and every day Simeon heard God say, "not today, but soon." On this particular day, Simeon didn't hear "not today", on this particular day Simeon heard-- "go and see, He’s Here!" Rushing to the Temple, Simeon zeroed in on the Holy Family. And, without even realizing how bizarre the whole scene was, Mary offered the baby to Simeon.
Simeon, overcome with joy, with Jesus in his arms, praises God by singing the hymn we use during Evening Prayer, the Nunc Dimittis:
"Lord, you now have set your servant free to go in peace as you have promised. For these eyes of mine have seen the savior, whom you have prepared for all the world to see; a Light to enlighten the nations, and the glory of your people, Israel.”
Why does our focus shift, after today, from Christmas and the manger to Good Friday, the cross and the tomb?
Because of one clause in this hymn: "a savior for the whole world--- A light to enlighten the nations.” This messiah was not just for Israel, no this Messiah was for all the world to see. This simple phrase in a song of praise sets in motion all that leads to Calvary--- Jesus came for everyone, always, no exceptions. Not just Jew, but Gentile too(if this was written in modern parlance it would read “not just Christian, but Muslim, not just Jew, but Sikh…). Not just us, but them. Not just you, but me, not just some but all. Simeon professed what Mary would learn, what she would endure, what she would see. Simeon announced what the world was not yet able to bear: Love had arrived. For everyone, forever.
In the painting, Mary's eyes reveal the truth: Through this child the strong will weaken and the weak will strengthen. The world will get turned inside out and upside down.
And her precious Son, God in the flesh, will be nailed to a tree.
Young Mary knew what Simeon predicted was true: the world that had longed for the Messiah, yearned for Him would, in the end, be unable to bear the reality of Him. That the darkness that feeds our fear, fuels our doubts and tries to deaden our souls would kill that Love and pierce her heart on the darkest Friday of all time.
How she must have longed to keep that knowledge buried for a while longer, how she must have longed to get out of that temple and home to Nazareth where Jesus could be just another boy.
But, before they could leave another character enters the scene: the 84 year old widow and permanent resident of the Temple, Anna. Although she may not have known what she was looking for, when Anna saw Jesus she knew she'd found it. Anna, like Simeon, sang about this great wonder, but, unlike Simeon, who wandered off to rejoice in private, Anna told everyone she met that the Messiah was finally here.
On this day 2000 yrs ago and today, the word is out, the die is cast. The strong will weaken, the weak will strengthen and Love will take its earthly journey until, overcome with fear and doubt, we will do everything we can to snuff it out, to stop it, to stop Him in his tracks. It's a reality none us like or want to admit. But it is a fact of our faith that we join the crowd and shout “Crucify Him!” And, thanks be to God, through God’s amazing, outrageous and abundant grace, we’re also part of the throng shouting, “Alleluia, He Is Risen,” on Easter Morn. Buckle up my friends, the ride of faith is bumpy!
We, along with Mary and Joseph, along with Anna and Simeon, along with Jesus, have embarked on a journey that began at the manger, travels to the temple, the shores of Galilee, the gardens of Gethsemene, the dusty despair of Calvary, the depths of death to emerge, at the last, into the amazing victory of Light, Life and Love on Easter morn.  This journey we are on not easy, but by taking it we, along with Simeon and Anna will, at the end, be truly free.
Amen.