+Toward the end of the Passion Gospel Jesus says: “It is Finished. ” For generations scholars have said that rather than an expression of defeat, these words were, for Jesus, an exclamation of victory, proclaiming that his work as God taking on the flesh of this world, as the man Jesus, was finished. That he had equipped his followers as best he could and that now it would be up to them…to us!
That makes sense to me----haven’t you ever finished a long and painful task and although exhausted and maybe even in pain, you’re able to look at what you’ve accomplished and say, with satisfaction, “It is Finished!”?
But you know what? I can’t help but “hear” these words of Jesus as being tinged with less triumph than scholars would lead us to believe.
I mean, look around the scene--EVERYONE but the women and the beloved disciple have abandoned Jesus----Judas has betrayed, Peter denied and the others? Philip, James, Andrew, Thomas and all the rest have left. They’ve slipped into the temple crowds, hiding as best they can, denying all that has been, securing their place back into the status quo.
How, in this scenario, can Jesus feel victorious?
His earthly life has ended--he’s taught all he could teach, he’s healed all he could heal, he’s challenged the temple authorities to the very end--- but the work?
The challenges to tyranny, the loving everyone, everywhere, no exceptions, the feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, comforting the broken-hearted? That work?
It’s so far from finished.
On this Good Friday we must admit that this work—this good and holy work is not finished and will not be finished, will not be complete—the victory of God will not be won until:
Our young people are safe in their schools, in their nightclubs, at their concerts.
It won’t be finished, it won’t be complete, the victory of God will not be won until:
Those who don’t look like us aren’t automatically singled out as dangerous or bad or illegal.
It won’t be finished, it won’t be complete, the victory of God will not be won until:
The 130 million girls across this globe with no access to education will be able to go to school without fear and without reproach. That women will get paid an equal wage for equal work and that women and girls the world over will have full and complete control over their bodies. Always and forever.
It won’t be finished, it won’t be complete, the victory of God will not be won until:
Our politicians will hold the public good uppermost in their minds instead of the contents of their wallets.
It won’t be finished, it won’t be complete, the victory of God will not be won until:
The horror of climate change is accepted as fact and all the strength and wisdom of this world is given over to protecting what is left pf this our island home.
It won’t be finished, it won’t be complete, the victory of God will not be won until:
The lost are found, the blind see, the naked clothed and the hungry fed.
It won’t be finished, it won’t be complete, the victory of God will not be won until:
We---you and me---go out into the world and do the work Jesus has given us to do.
And what is that work?
It was given to us last night in Jesus’ Mandate (Maundy) to us:
To love.
Fully and Completely and Always.
To ask ourselves, not in the trite way of bracelets and t-shirts, but in the true and full way of Jesus on the cross, what would Jesus do?
Jesus would, Jesus does, forgive.
Jesus would, Jesus does, Love.
Jesus would, Jesus does, risk.
That’s what Jesus would have us do, too:
Forgive.
Love.
Risk.
Jesus’ work on earth was finished, but it was not and it is not complete. For Jesus is not and was not in this alone. We are the descendants of those who betrayed and denied and ran away. We are the descendants of those who screamed, “Crucify Him!” BUT we are also descendants of those women who stayed at the cross and in a few days will take that long trek up Calvary’s hill to the tomb. We are descendants of those loving, forgiving and risk-taking women.
May we, as we survey that wondrous and complicated cross, be strengthened to finish the work, to complete the task and to bring the dream of God to life, right here and right now.
Amen.
Friday, March 30, 2018
Sunday, March 25, 2018
Palm Sunday--The World is Not a Hopeless Place
+What’s the point of all this? Of shouting “Hosanna” and then “Crucify Him!?”
What’s the point of Holy Week?
What’s the point of opening our hearts to all the sadness?
What’s the point of highlighting the betrayers, the deniers, the hiders, the liars, and the terrified?
What’s the point of lamenting the loss, the emptiness, the death of Love itself?
What’s the point of descending into the depths of the grave, of nothingness, of despair?
What’s the point of going through it? It’s violent, it’s scary and it’s depressing…
Just like the 6 o’ clock news.
Several years ago, The Rev. Rhonda Waters wrote a terrific article on why she and her husband bring their children into the fullness of all that Holy Week is.I think her words apply to all of us, especially at this time in our nation :
“The world is not a safe place. God knew that before the Word was made flesh. Jesus knew that before his flesh was subjected to violence and death.
The world is not a safe place, but the Word was still made flesh and Jesus still taught the radical good news of God’s Kingdom, because the world is not a hopeless place.
we need no more proof than to watch the young people who are leading us into a better version of ourselves. THEY know that this world is not a safe place, but they will not let danger win.
God Bless Them.
They are living proof that, in fact, the world is a deeply loved and loveable place. The world is dangerous, can feel hopeless and yet the world is a deeply loved and lovable place.
Holy Week invites us to confront the depth of both of these truths.
As Christians, we need to experience Holy Week in its fullness… By participating in these days we learn that popularity is not all it seems, that service is a sign of strength, that empire will go to horrifying lengths to preserve itself, that innocent people are sometimes punished, and that good people sometimes suffer. We also learn that God loves the world anyway and that God’s love is always stronger than hate and injustice.
God’s love is ALWAYS stronger than anything THIS world can throw at us.
This is the journey of Holy Week, in which we emerge beyond the guilt and fear and pain in order to proclaim the victory of love, revealed on Easter but too often hidden from view in our daily lives.
The world is not a safe place, but it is a powerfully loved place. The liturgies of Holy Week give us a chance to not only hear but to experience both of these truths so that we can live wisely, compassionately, and without fear.”
I find Rhonda’s words eloquent and wise and I commend them to you.
Today I invite you to the observance of a Holy Week.
I invite you to enter the pain and emerge in the glory.
I invite you, not because I think suffering is noble, or because I think you don’t deserve your Easter chocolate without some Holy Week pain. No, I invite you because Holy Week exposes us for who we are--- fallible, broken, trying the best we can but often messing it up--- human beings.
Holy Week, in a very concentrated way, outlines what the human experience is all about:
We try. Really hard.
We have the best of intentions.
But we aren’t always that great at following through.
The fact is, we blow it. A lot.
We don’t always respect the dignity of every human being.
We don’t love everyone everywhere, all the time, no exceptions.
We don’t make time for God.
We sometimes forget God all together.
We shy from our faith outside these doors.
We love Jesus, but we really try to avoid talking about him.
We have a tendency to get caught up in the here and now of this world instead of the hope and promise of the next.
We feel terrible about the state of the world but often forget that the only way this world will change is if we set out to change it. One tiny act of hope and light and love at a time.
Holy Week teaches us that in spite of our failings, in spite of our misguided choices, in spite of us, God loves us.
Holy Week helps us learn that no matter how awful the pain, no matter how endless the despair, no matter how hopeless things seem, God will not be denied, Hope won’t disappear and Love? Love always wins.
So as we walk with Christ through these ever darkening days of Holy Week, keep the faith, be of good courage and know that God walks with us, cries with us and on Easter Morning, will rejoice with us.
Amen.
What’s the point of Holy Week?
What’s the point of opening our hearts to all the sadness?
What’s the point of highlighting the betrayers, the deniers, the hiders, the liars, and the terrified?
What’s the point of lamenting the loss, the emptiness, the death of Love itself?
What’s the point of descending into the depths of the grave, of nothingness, of despair?
What’s the point of going through it? It’s violent, it’s scary and it’s depressing…
Just like the 6 o’ clock news.
Several years ago, The Rev. Rhonda Waters wrote a terrific article on why she and her husband bring their children into the fullness of all that Holy Week is.I think her words apply to all of us, especially at this time in our nation :
“The world is not a safe place. God knew that before the Word was made flesh. Jesus knew that before his flesh was subjected to violence and death.
The world is not a safe place, but the Word was still made flesh and Jesus still taught the radical good news of God’s Kingdom, because the world is not a hopeless place.
we need no more proof than to watch the young people who are leading us into a better version of ourselves. THEY know that this world is not a safe place, but they will not let danger win.
God Bless Them.
They are living proof that, in fact, the world is a deeply loved and loveable place. The world is dangerous, can feel hopeless and yet the world is a deeply loved and lovable place.
Holy Week invites us to confront the depth of both of these truths.
As Christians, we need to experience Holy Week in its fullness… By participating in these days we learn that popularity is not all it seems, that service is a sign of strength, that empire will go to horrifying lengths to preserve itself, that innocent people are sometimes punished, and that good people sometimes suffer. We also learn that God loves the world anyway and that God’s love is always stronger than hate and injustice.
God’s love is ALWAYS stronger than anything THIS world can throw at us.
This is the journey of Holy Week, in which we emerge beyond the guilt and fear and pain in order to proclaim the victory of love, revealed on Easter but too often hidden from view in our daily lives.
The world is not a safe place, but it is a powerfully loved place. The liturgies of Holy Week give us a chance to not only hear but to experience both of these truths so that we can live wisely, compassionately, and without fear.”
I find Rhonda’s words eloquent and wise and I commend them to you.
Today I invite you to the observance of a Holy Week.
I invite you to enter the pain and emerge in the glory.
I invite you, not because I think suffering is noble, or because I think you don’t deserve your Easter chocolate without some Holy Week pain. No, I invite you because Holy Week exposes us for who we are--- fallible, broken, trying the best we can but often messing it up--- human beings.
Holy Week, in a very concentrated way, outlines what the human experience is all about:
We try. Really hard.
We have the best of intentions.
But we aren’t always that great at following through.
The fact is, we blow it. A lot.
We don’t always respect the dignity of every human being.
We don’t love everyone everywhere, all the time, no exceptions.
We don’t make time for God.
We sometimes forget God all together.
We shy from our faith outside these doors.
We love Jesus, but we really try to avoid talking about him.
We have a tendency to get caught up in the here and now of this world instead of the hope and promise of the next.
We feel terrible about the state of the world but often forget that the only way this world will change is if we set out to change it. One tiny act of hope and light and love at a time.
Holy Week teaches us that in spite of our failings, in spite of our misguided choices, in spite of us, God loves us.
Holy Week helps us learn that no matter how awful the pain, no matter how endless the despair, no matter how hopeless things seem, God will not be denied, Hope won’t disappear and Love? Love always wins.
So as we walk with Christ through these ever darkening days of Holy Week, keep the faith, be of good courage and know that God walks with us, cries with us and on Easter Morning, will rejoice with us.
Amen.
The Rev. Rhonda Waters is incumbent of the Church of
the Ascension, diocese of Ottawa.
Anglicanjournal.com March 20, 2015
Sunday, March 18, 2018
With every tear we shed, God cries, too . Lent 5B St. Luke's, Attica
+The prophet Jeremiah writes: I will be their God and they shall be my people." And because of that promise, when I was a child When I was younger, I was sure that Jesus couldn't have really suffered on the cross. I rationalized that Jesus is God's son and God isn't about to let God's Son suffer such humiliation and agony, right?
But the truth isn't so sweet:
Jesus begged God to relive him from the horrors of Good Friday.
We don't talk about this much, but it's true.
On Maundy Thursday, in the garden, Jesus asks God to, if possible, remove this cup from him. On the cross he cries out, "my God my God why have you forsaken me?"
The author of today's Epistle writes: "Jesus offered up prayers and supplication with loud cries and tears to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard."
He was heard. If he was heard, why?
Why in the world didn't God save Jesus from such a painful death?
Well, the biblical commentator Delmer Chilton relates the following story to help us make sense of this:
He writes:
"When I was about 12 or 13 I was in the Boy Scouts. One night at Scouts we were running a race and I tripped, falling face down in the gravel on the side of the road [and] lodged a piece of gravel [in] my forehead.
The rural medical clinic was a mile or so down the road from our meeting place. The Doctor and my father were both assistant Scoutmasters so they gathered me up and took me [there].
The doctor was good but his bedside manner was a bit on the brusque side. As I lie there on that cold, hard metal table he came at me with a huge needle to numb my forehead. I'm still not very fond of needles, but then I was deathly afraid of them.
I looked over at my Daddy and began to cry out, 'Daddy, Daddy, daddy, please Daddy. Don't let him hurt me, please Daddy. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.'
The doctor threw a leg over me to hold me down, put his left arm down on my chest and proceeded to inject the needle. All the while I continued to cry and beg and plead for my Daddy to make him stop. And just as the needle entered I saw a tear in the corner of his eye. It was the only time I ever, ever saw him cry.
The author concludes by remarking:
"I was heard, oh yes, I was heard [by my daddy]. And I was denied. Just like Jesus. [But that doesn't mean I wasn't loved. I was. Just like Jesus]. This is the great and wondrous mystery of our faith:
Wherever we are, God in Christ has been; fully, completely, totally."
Think about the most scared, lonely, and troubled you've ever been.
Jesus has been there.
Think about the moments when you've felt ignored and abandoned by God.
Jesus has been there.
Think about all the times when you just didn't know if you could do what you needed to do.
Jesus has been there.
The Promise of the Gospel isn't that if you're a Christian life will be easy. The Gospel isn't about ways to make your life work out in a way pleasing to yourself.
The Gospel is the call to follow Jesus to the cross and beyond:
To follow Jesus in serving the poor, the needy and the ignored.
To follow Jesus in reaching out to the despised, rejected and hated.
To follow Jesus in standing up for those who are oppressed by abusive systems of injustice.
To follow Jesus in fighting against evil and darkness always and forever.
And sometimes-sometimes-- following Jesus to the cross means we'll suffer for our commitments, that we too will be rejected and scorned as much as those with whom we take our stand.
Yes, Jesus calls us to follow him into all of this. Crying tears of lament, wishing the cup could be taken from us.
It's not an easy way.
It's not a painless path.
It's not likely to be smooth sailing.
It's the Way of the Cross.
The promise of the gospel is that where God calls us to go, Jesus has already been, and as we go, Jesus goes with us.
So my friends, I offer you a late Lent challenge. Spend this week preparing yourself to enter into the full anguish of Holy Week-not because you are masochistic and wish to experience pain and suffering, no….I invite you to enter into the anguish God experienced as a parent to Jesus. I invite you to spend the rest of Lent holding onto Jesus' hand as he walks through his terror, as he walks through our betrayal, as he walks smack dab into death and then through the grace of God, comes out the other side.
I invite you to shed a tear with our Divine Parent, a loving God who knows the only way to be with us is to walk with us, through everything: even the anguish and the pain.
Yes, Jesus had to suffer. Not because God is mean, and not because we should feel guilty for his death. Jesus had to suffer because we suffer, and God needs, God must, God LONGS to share that with us.
This is the beauty of the incarnation, it is the truth of the crucifixion, and it is the miracle of the resurrection: no matter how troubled our souls may be, Jesus knows our pain. And so does God.So, as we enter into this last week before the Holiest of all weeks I ask you to remember that with every tear we shed, God cries, too……because God is our God and we are God's people. Always. And forever.
+
The basic outline of this sermon was taken from a blogpost I read several years ago :
Two Bubbas and a Bible: http://lectionarylab.blogspot.com/2012/03/year-b-fifth-sunday-in-lent.html]
But the truth isn't so sweet:
Jesus begged God to relive him from the horrors of Good Friday.
We don't talk about this much, but it's true.
On Maundy Thursday, in the garden, Jesus asks God to, if possible, remove this cup from him. On the cross he cries out, "my God my God why have you forsaken me?"
The author of today's Epistle writes: "Jesus offered up prayers and supplication with loud cries and tears to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard."
He was heard. If he was heard, why?
Why in the world didn't God save Jesus from such a painful death?
Well, the biblical commentator Delmer Chilton relates the following story to help us make sense of this:
He writes:
"When I was about 12 or 13 I was in the Boy Scouts. One night at Scouts we were running a race and I tripped, falling face down in the gravel on the side of the road [and] lodged a piece of gravel [in] my forehead.
The rural medical clinic was a mile or so down the road from our meeting place. The Doctor and my father were both assistant Scoutmasters so they gathered me up and took me [there].
The doctor was good but his bedside manner was a bit on the brusque side. As I lie there on that cold, hard metal table he came at me with a huge needle to numb my forehead. I'm still not very fond of needles, but then I was deathly afraid of them.
I looked over at my Daddy and began to cry out, 'Daddy, Daddy, daddy, please Daddy. Don't let him hurt me, please Daddy. Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.'
The doctor threw a leg over me to hold me down, put his left arm down on my chest and proceeded to inject the needle. All the while I continued to cry and beg and plead for my Daddy to make him stop. And just as the needle entered I saw a tear in the corner of his eye. It was the only time I ever, ever saw him cry.
The author concludes by remarking:
"I was heard, oh yes, I was heard [by my daddy]. And I was denied. Just like Jesus. [But that doesn't mean I wasn't loved. I was. Just like Jesus]. This is the great and wondrous mystery of our faith:
Wherever we are, God in Christ has been; fully, completely, totally."
Think about the most scared, lonely, and troubled you've ever been.
Jesus has been there.
Think about the moments when you've felt ignored and abandoned by God.
Jesus has been there.
Think about all the times when you just didn't know if you could do what you needed to do.
Jesus has been there.
The Promise of the Gospel isn't that if you're a Christian life will be easy. The Gospel isn't about ways to make your life work out in a way pleasing to yourself.
The Gospel is the call to follow Jesus to the cross and beyond:
To follow Jesus in serving the poor, the needy and the ignored.
To follow Jesus in reaching out to the despised, rejected and hated.
To follow Jesus in standing up for those who are oppressed by abusive systems of injustice.
To follow Jesus in fighting against evil and darkness always and forever.
And sometimes-sometimes-- following Jesus to the cross means we'll suffer for our commitments, that we too will be rejected and scorned as much as those with whom we take our stand.
Yes, Jesus calls us to follow him into all of this. Crying tears of lament, wishing the cup could be taken from us.
It's not an easy way.
It's not a painless path.
It's not likely to be smooth sailing.
It's the Way of the Cross.
The promise of the gospel is that where God calls us to go, Jesus has already been, and as we go, Jesus goes with us.
So my friends, I offer you a late Lent challenge. Spend this week preparing yourself to enter into the full anguish of Holy Week-not because you are masochistic and wish to experience pain and suffering, no….I invite you to enter into the anguish God experienced as a parent to Jesus. I invite you to spend the rest of Lent holding onto Jesus' hand as he walks through his terror, as he walks through our betrayal, as he walks smack dab into death and then through the grace of God, comes out the other side.
I invite you to shed a tear with our Divine Parent, a loving God who knows the only way to be with us is to walk with us, through everything: even the anguish and the pain.
Yes, Jesus had to suffer. Not because God is mean, and not because we should feel guilty for his death. Jesus had to suffer because we suffer, and God needs, God must, God LONGS to share that with us.
This is the beauty of the incarnation, it is the truth of the crucifixion, and it is the miracle of the resurrection: no matter how troubled our souls may be, Jesus knows our pain. And so does God.So, as we enter into this last week before the Holiest of all weeks I ask you to remember that with every tear we shed, God cries, too……because God is our God and we are God's people. Always. And forever.
+
The basic outline of this sermon was taken from a blogpost I read several years ago :
Two Bubbas and a Bible: http://lectionarylab.blogspot.com/2012/03/year-b-fifth-sunday-in-lent.html]
Monday, March 5, 2018
Following the Commandments Commands Us to Lose it Every Once in Awhile. Lent 3B St Paul's Springville, March 4, 2018
+I totally get Jesus losing it in the temple.
This Christianity business is tough work---we're to love everyone, everywhere, no exceptions. We're to clothe the naked, feed the hungry, welcome the lonely and visit those in prison. We're to seek and serve Christ in all whom we encounter. That's the Christian way…
But so often it's not the church way.
Which is why it's BRILIIANT that the lectionary designers-the folks who determine what bible readings we hear each Sunday---paired the reading of Jesus Losing it in the Temple (our Gospel) with The Ten Best Ways to Live a Healthy and Moral Life (the Ten Commandments in our reading from Exodus).
You see, the Ten Commandments are a great guide---one could even say they're civilization's first Self Help Book (or tablet!)!
They help us keep our side of the street clean.
They help us maintain our focus…
That's the real link between today's readings.
Jesus was cleansing the temple---ridding his Father's, our Creator's, house of trash. Clearing the way so the focus of the worshippers would be on God instead of on stuff, on worry, on pettiness, on all the things of this world that distract and destroy our love for God, our neighbor and ourselves. Jesus was furious because Jesus knew the ten commandments-he followed them, he added to them---and he knew that the money changers and the sacrificial animal vendors were thinking about their bottom line instead of God's ten best ways to live. He knew that the sacred festival of Passover had become a commercial debacle, distracting people from love of God.
Which brings us back to the Ten Commandments. Following these guidelines keep us focused on the things of God instead of on those things that are NOT of God.
1. Love God and Love people. People are God's creation, so loving people is loving God. And that is good.
2.God Loves us beyond all reason, so don't worship other gods and don't confuse stuff with God. [This is a big one because we easily confuse stuff with God.] Seeking happiness and security, a sense of worth from the stuff we have (or the stuff we want) instead of seeking our joy, our contentment in the one who is always ready to give us that security: God.
3. And speaking of God: Be serious when you say God's name. Don't toss it around as an expletive or in exasperation.
4. Keep the Sabbath holy…make one day solely for those whom you love, including God. These relationships need nurturing, our relationship with God, with all our loved ones: devote one day a week to this nurture.
5. Honor your parents and all who raise you. There is no more important job than raising children. We must always honor those who devoted themselves to our growth, our health, our well-being.
And now we get into the don'ts. But these don'ts seem pretty reasonable:
6. Don't kill. And don't stand for the killing of others! (yes this means standing up and speaking out against the greed of our politicians taking precedence over the safety of our children. More on that in a moment.)
7. Don't break your commitment to your spouse, your partner, your husband, your wife!
8. Don't steal.
9.Don't lie.
10. Don't want what others have, be happy for them and be content with you and what you have.
These are GREAT guidelines. We really can't go wrong if we follow them. Of course, we often confuse everything, complicating things. It really is as simple (not easy, but simple) as these best ways to live: keep our focus on God and on all those things in life which are God-given: love of family and friends, respect for creation, respect for each other. The Ten Commandments, if taken seriously, keep us from getting too self-absorbed, keep us from getting too distracted, keep us from getting off track.
And sometimes? Sometimes when we take them seriously, when we maintain a commitment to them, we will get angry. Just like Jesus.
We, followers of Jesus in the 21st century, better get angry at Christians---ourselves included--- who don't have the courage to take the action needed to DO SOMETHING about these mass shootings that have so infected our country. How can Christians, people who profess to follow Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior let people with ill intent so easily acquire rifles adapted to kill quickly and massively? How can we, as followers of Jesus, the Prince of Peace, as followers of the Creator who is the source of all Love stand off to the side? We can't. We musn't. We shouldn't.
Look back at the ten best ways to live, take a good long look at our baptismal covenant where we promise to respect the dignity of every single person, where we proclaim Jesus as our Savior, where we commit ourselves to lives of light and love---we cannot stand by why the safety and security of children in school, party-goers in a nightclub, concert-goers, college students and church goers is at risk.
Jesus believed in the ten commandments. Jesus followed the ten commandments and Jesus made a bit of a scene when he found his father's, our creator's honor being violated.
As followers of that same Jesus, as lovers of that same God, shouldn't we, too? Shouldn't we scream and yell until our children can go to school without being murdered in cold blood? Shouldn't we rant and rave until we have quality mental health care available to all of God's children? Shouldn't we stomp our feet and yell our heads off in the face of politicians who would rather maintain a flow of money into their campaign coffers rather than protecting the people they've been elected to serve?
I think the Commandments of God, the teachings of Jesus leave us no choice. Our faith, our creeds, our very belief system demands that we must. Because if we don't, who will?
Amen.
This Christianity business is tough work---we're to love everyone, everywhere, no exceptions. We're to clothe the naked, feed the hungry, welcome the lonely and visit those in prison. We're to seek and serve Christ in all whom we encounter. That's the Christian way…
But so often it's not the church way.
Which is why it's BRILIIANT that the lectionary designers-the folks who determine what bible readings we hear each Sunday---paired the reading of Jesus Losing it in the Temple (our Gospel) with The Ten Best Ways to Live a Healthy and Moral Life (the Ten Commandments in our reading from Exodus).
You see, the Ten Commandments are a great guide---one could even say they're civilization's first Self Help Book (or tablet!)!
They help us keep our side of the street clean.
They help us maintain our focus…
That's the real link between today's readings.
Jesus was cleansing the temple---ridding his Father's, our Creator's, house of trash. Clearing the way so the focus of the worshippers would be on God instead of on stuff, on worry, on pettiness, on all the things of this world that distract and destroy our love for God, our neighbor and ourselves. Jesus was furious because Jesus knew the ten commandments-he followed them, he added to them---and he knew that the money changers and the sacrificial animal vendors were thinking about their bottom line instead of God's ten best ways to live. He knew that the sacred festival of Passover had become a commercial debacle, distracting people from love of God.
Which brings us back to the Ten Commandments. Following these guidelines keep us focused on the things of God instead of on those things that are NOT of God.
1. Love God and Love people. People are God's creation, so loving people is loving God. And that is good.
2.God Loves us beyond all reason, so don't worship other gods and don't confuse stuff with God. [This is a big one because we easily confuse stuff with God.] Seeking happiness and security, a sense of worth from the stuff we have (or the stuff we want) instead of seeking our joy, our contentment in the one who is always ready to give us that security: God.
3. And speaking of God: Be serious when you say God's name. Don't toss it around as an expletive or in exasperation.
4. Keep the Sabbath holy…make one day solely for those whom you love, including God. These relationships need nurturing, our relationship with God, with all our loved ones: devote one day a week to this nurture.
5. Honor your parents and all who raise you. There is no more important job than raising children. We must always honor those who devoted themselves to our growth, our health, our well-being.
And now we get into the don'ts. But these don'ts seem pretty reasonable:
6. Don't kill. And don't stand for the killing of others! (yes this means standing up and speaking out against the greed of our politicians taking precedence over the safety of our children. More on that in a moment.)
7. Don't break your commitment to your spouse, your partner, your husband, your wife!
8. Don't steal.
9.Don't lie.
10. Don't want what others have, be happy for them and be content with you and what you have.
These are GREAT guidelines. We really can't go wrong if we follow them. Of course, we often confuse everything, complicating things. It really is as simple (not easy, but simple) as these best ways to live: keep our focus on God and on all those things in life which are God-given: love of family and friends, respect for creation, respect for each other. The Ten Commandments, if taken seriously, keep us from getting too self-absorbed, keep us from getting too distracted, keep us from getting off track.
And sometimes? Sometimes when we take them seriously, when we maintain a commitment to them, we will get angry. Just like Jesus.
We, followers of Jesus in the 21st century, better get angry at Christians---ourselves included--- who don't have the courage to take the action needed to DO SOMETHING about these mass shootings that have so infected our country. How can Christians, people who profess to follow Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior let people with ill intent so easily acquire rifles adapted to kill quickly and massively? How can we, as followers of Jesus, the Prince of Peace, as followers of the Creator who is the source of all Love stand off to the side? We can't. We musn't. We shouldn't.
Look back at the ten best ways to live, take a good long look at our baptismal covenant where we promise to respect the dignity of every single person, where we proclaim Jesus as our Savior, where we commit ourselves to lives of light and love---we cannot stand by why the safety and security of children in school, party-goers in a nightclub, concert-goers, college students and church goers is at risk.
Jesus believed in the ten commandments. Jesus followed the ten commandments and Jesus made a bit of a scene when he found his father's, our creator's honor being violated.
As followers of that same Jesus, as lovers of that same God, shouldn't we, too? Shouldn't we scream and yell until our children can go to school without being murdered in cold blood? Shouldn't we rant and rave until we have quality mental health care available to all of God's children? Shouldn't we stomp our feet and yell our heads off in the face of politicians who would rather maintain a flow of money into their campaign coffers rather than protecting the people they've been elected to serve?
I think the Commandments of God, the teachings of Jesus leave us no choice. Our faith, our creeds, our very belief system demands that we must. Because if we don't, who will?
Amen.
Sunday, February 25, 2018
Lent 2 Fredonia Our Name Changing God Feb 25 2018
+Abraham laughs.
God gets a little needy.
Paul hits the nail on the head.
And Jesus loses it a bit.
Yes, we're in Lent, where all pretense is stripped away and we get down and dirty with this thing called faith.
Lent is when we're reminded just why God had to come and be among us in the flesh, in the person of Jesus Christ…
..Lent is when we're reminded that our relationship with God has been, more often than not, pretty rocky and that together we, humanity and God, have had our ups and downs…
..Lent's when we're reminded of just how difficult it is for God to understand us, God's beloved; and how difficult it is for us to understand God.
Things gets all stripped down in Lent because this stuff can be confusing and we don't have much time---40 days give or take---to make sense of God's love for us and our love for God before we dive headlong into the crux of our faith, those heart wrenching, faith challenging three days.
It's in Lent when we wrestle with our limitations while learning to accept God's limitlessness.
Lent is when we get clear that while we may see through a glass dimly, God sees all that has been all that is and all that will be.
Lent is when we get real clear about who God is, The Divine, and who we are, the Not Divine.
Lent is when we practice living fully into who we are rather than who we are not.
Scary? Sure.
Exciting? Yes.
Surprising? Always.
Lent's not easy, but when has being a Christian ever been easy? What we learn from our readings today, what we learn from the beautiful struggle of our individual wilderness experiences is this: standing up for those who have no standing, demanding dignity for all, protecting our children, our elderly, our downcast isn't easy, pretty or fun.
But we don't tackle any of this alone because, as promised to Abraham in the book of Genesis and as promised in the birth of Jesus himself, God never stops reaching out to us, reaching out for us. God never leaves.
We have a great example of this in today's first reading from Genesis. This reading is famous for being the one where God renames Abram and Sarai, Abraham and Sarah, making them the parents of a multitude of nations rather than just parents of one…but the first name change, the first change of focus, the first new identity isn't theirs….it's God's. You see, up until now in Genesis God's name has been The Most High God (El Elyon) or the God who sees me (El Roi), here in chapter 17 is the first time God refers to God's self as El Shaddai, the All Sufficient, All Encompassing One. Today, God, Abram and Sarai all get new names,
New identities.
It's seems clear here---God is making something all together new and God has begun with God's very self.
Now embracing a new identity, whether it's a name change, a life change or a faith change, can be pretty unsettling. So God, in God's All Sufficient and All Encompassing manner paves the way by going first. God tells Abraham, "yes I am leading you into a new identity, I am leading you into the all together new, but I'm going first, just follow me." God then proceeds to tell Abraham that he and Sarah will have many descendants that God will make fertile and lively that which had been infertile and dying---
Of course Abraham has no idea what God's talking about---our translation says that Abraham falls on his face which, at first blush, suggests that he assumed a posture of adoration and worship but in truth, the Hebrew word used here suggests less adoration and more incredulity, less worship and more shock. Less falling down in joy and wonder and more tripping over his own feet while saying, "you're gonna what?????"
And, in a scene of beautiful longing, El Shaddai, the All Encompassing All Sufficient One, doesn't smite Abraham for disbelief, doesn't move on to to someone else. No God persists. Imploring, maybe even begging, Abraham to believe. "Yes, Abraham, I'm talking to you, YOU and Sarah are the ones through which I am going to do this marvelous thing. I want, I need I long for YOU to do this with me."
Here it is in black and white: God reaches out to us, God longs for us, God, even in God's all encompassing, all sufficient divinity, does not, can not, will not walk this path alone. God needs, God wants, God longs for us, the descendants of Father Abraham and Mother Sarah, to walk alongside.
This is where the rest of today's readings come in…. Paul, in Romans, goes on and on about the Law vs. Faith, what he's working out, what he's realizing is, to coin a phrase from another of Paul's letters:
there is no longer Jew or Greek, slave or free, man or woman…every one, all of us, any of us, each of us, are invited to journey with the Almighty, All Encompassing All Sufficient Love that is God.
This is why Jesus loses it with Peter…Peter can't bear the thought that Jesus would have to endure what Jesus will endure. He cannot fathom it, so he denies that it is true.
What Jesus is saying to us, through Peter, is this:
Yes I have great trials ahead-we all have great trials that we endure, we all have great crosses to bear, we all are constantly and relentlessly pulled toward the darkness of Not God but through the promise of the Almighty One, El Shaddai, we can walk through the dark and barren valleys of life because we are never ever alone. Jesus is telling Peter and us just what God was telling Abraham, just what Paul figured out in his letter to the church in Rome: we are in this together. We are invited we are all wanted, we are all needed. The path won't always be smooth, the way not always easy, but together, walking with the God who created us, the God who redeems us and the God who sustains us we will make it. So, welcome to Lent, welcome to faith, welcome to the all-encompassing, all sufficient Love that leads the way. Amen.
God gets a little needy.
Paul hits the nail on the head.
And Jesus loses it a bit.
Yes, we're in Lent, where all pretense is stripped away and we get down and dirty with this thing called faith.
Lent is when we're reminded just why God had to come and be among us in the flesh, in the person of Jesus Christ…
..Lent is when we're reminded that our relationship with God has been, more often than not, pretty rocky and that together we, humanity and God, have had our ups and downs…
..Lent's when we're reminded of just how difficult it is for God to understand us, God's beloved; and how difficult it is for us to understand God.
Things gets all stripped down in Lent because this stuff can be confusing and we don't have much time---40 days give or take---to make sense of God's love for us and our love for God before we dive headlong into the crux of our faith, those heart wrenching, faith challenging three days.
It's in Lent when we wrestle with our limitations while learning to accept God's limitlessness.
Lent is when we get clear that while we may see through a glass dimly, God sees all that has been all that is and all that will be.
Lent is when we get real clear about who God is, The Divine, and who we are, the Not Divine.
Lent is when we practice living fully into who we are rather than who we are not.
Scary? Sure.
Exciting? Yes.
Surprising? Always.
Lent's not easy, but when has being a Christian ever been easy? What we learn from our readings today, what we learn from the beautiful struggle of our individual wilderness experiences is this: standing up for those who have no standing, demanding dignity for all, protecting our children, our elderly, our downcast isn't easy, pretty or fun.
But we don't tackle any of this alone because, as promised to Abraham in the book of Genesis and as promised in the birth of Jesus himself, God never stops reaching out to us, reaching out for us. God never leaves.
We have a great example of this in today's first reading from Genesis. This reading is famous for being the one where God renames Abram and Sarai, Abraham and Sarah, making them the parents of a multitude of nations rather than just parents of one…but the first name change, the first change of focus, the first new identity isn't theirs….it's God's. You see, up until now in Genesis God's name has been The Most High God (El Elyon) or the God who sees me (El Roi), here in chapter 17 is the first time God refers to God's self as El Shaddai, the All Sufficient, All Encompassing One. Today, God, Abram and Sarai all get new names,
New identities.
It's seems clear here---God is making something all together new and God has begun with God's very self.
Now embracing a new identity, whether it's a name change, a life change or a faith change, can be pretty unsettling. So God, in God's All Sufficient and All Encompassing manner paves the way by going first. God tells Abraham, "yes I am leading you into a new identity, I am leading you into the all together new, but I'm going first, just follow me." God then proceeds to tell Abraham that he and Sarah will have many descendants that God will make fertile and lively that which had been infertile and dying---
Of course Abraham has no idea what God's talking about---our translation says that Abraham falls on his face which, at first blush, suggests that he assumed a posture of adoration and worship but in truth, the Hebrew word used here suggests less adoration and more incredulity, less worship and more shock. Less falling down in joy and wonder and more tripping over his own feet while saying, "you're gonna what?????"
And, in a scene of beautiful longing, El Shaddai, the All Encompassing All Sufficient One, doesn't smite Abraham for disbelief, doesn't move on to to someone else. No God persists. Imploring, maybe even begging, Abraham to believe. "Yes, Abraham, I'm talking to you, YOU and Sarah are the ones through which I am going to do this marvelous thing. I want, I need I long for YOU to do this with me."
Here it is in black and white: God reaches out to us, God longs for us, God, even in God's all encompassing, all sufficient divinity, does not, can not, will not walk this path alone. God needs, God wants, God longs for us, the descendants of Father Abraham and Mother Sarah, to walk alongside.
This is where the rest of today's readings come in…. Paul, in Romans, goes on and on about the Law vs. Faith, what he's working out, what he's realizing is, to coin a phrase from another of Paul's letters:
there is no longer Jew or Greek, slave or free, man or woman…every one, all of us, any of us, each of us, are invited to journey with the Almighty, All Encompassing All Sufficient Love that is God.
This is why Jesus loses it with Peter…Peter can't bear the thought that Jesus would have to endure what Jesus will endure. He cannot fathom it, so he denies that it is true.
What Jesus is saying to us, through Peter, is this:
Yes I have great trials ahead-we all have great trials that we endure, we all have great crosses to bear, we all are constantly and relentlessly pulled toward the darkness of Not God but through the promise of the Almighty One, El Shaddai, we can walk through the dark and barren valleys of life because we are never ever alone. Jesus is telling Peter and us just what God was telling Abraham, just what Paul figured out in his letter to the church in Rome: we are in this together. We are invited we are all wanted, we are all needed. The path won't always be smooth, the way not always easy, but together, walking with the God who created us, the God who redeems us and the God who sustains us we will make it. So, welcome to Lent, welcome to faith, welcome to the all-encompassing, all sufficient Love that leads the way. Amen.
Sunday, February 18, 2018
A Well-Done Lent Lent 1B Trinity, Fredonia
Rend Your Heart: [A Lent] Blessing
To receive this blessing,
all you have to do
is let your heart break.
Let it crack open.
Let it fall apart
so that you can see
its secret chambers,
the hidden spaces
where you have hesitated
to go.
Your entire life
is here, inscribed whole
upon your heart's walls:
every path taken
or left behind,
every face you turned toward
or turned away,
every word spoken in love
or in rage,
every line of your life
you would prefer to leave
in shadow,
every story that shimmers
with treasures known
and those you have yet
to find.
It could take you days
to wander these rooms.
Forty, at least.
And so let this be
a season for wandering
for trusting the breaking
for tracing the tear
that will return you
to the One who waits
who watches
who works within
the rending
to make your heart
whole. (Jan Richardson)
My friends, Lent is not a time for dreariness, and wretchedness. Lent's a time for tearing open our hearts, reaching deep into our souls and laying all that weighs us down in front of our Creator. It's a time to get honest with ourselves--really honest---and to shed light on those things that linger deep within us, things that cause us shame, things that disgust us, things that sadden us, things that embarrass us.
Lent is time for freeing up space and time for God to enter in; some of us do this by removing (giving up) something for Lent, some of us do this by adding a practice (reading the Daily Office, or some other devotional). It doesn't matter how we do it, it matters that we are intentional about doing it.
Why...why do this? Why take this time to "change things up?" Well, because we, in our very human "human-ness" get distracted, we get absorbed in the things of this world, forgetting the things of God.
Our reading from Genesis comes toward the end of the Noah story, when God supposedly got so angry with humanity's behavior that God destroyed all the people of the earth, except for Noah and his immediate family. There are all sorts of theological debates we can have about whether God is a vengeful God, suffice it to say I don't think our God is a vengeful God. But I do think our God is often a sad and grieving God. Is God saddened and grieved when we turn away from God? Yes, I believe God grieves deeply at our insistence on doing things our way instead of God's. I think God is horribly grieved when we hurt one another. And I think God is especially grieved when we hurt ourselves.
I know that God weeps each and every time our children are killed in acts of senseless violence yet we seem incapable of doing anything about it.
Why do we rend our hearts and souls open before God during Lent? Not because God likes to see us suffer (no God NEVER wants us to suffer), not because it's good to deny ourselves simply for the sake of causing ourselves misery. No, we rend our hearts and souls open to God during Lent as a cleansing act to free us, to lighten us, to open ourselves up enough to fully receive the new life presented to us on Easter morning.
In the ancient church, Lent was a time for those who desired baptism to study and pray as a way to ready themselves for receiving new life in Christ through baptism. [this morning at 10:30 we have a baptism and with that act little xxxx will never need another baptism...because we only get baptized once, but Lent allows us time to prepare to be born again at that empty tomb. Lent is a time to free up space within us to receive the glory, the wonder and the awesomeness of resurrection life. The more room we open up the more Glory has room to roam within our hearts and souls.
This is why we do the tough work of Lent- not because we are bad, but because God is so incredibly good. And all God wants is for us to make room within ourselves to receive this Goodness.
You see, my friends, this is why Lent is great, because a well-done Lent allows for an incredible Easter. A well done Lent guarantees us a depth and breadth of joy on Easter morn beyond anything we've ever experienced.
A well-done Lent opens us to a Love that is stronger and a Peace that is greater than we can ever ask or imagine.
A well-done Lent opens us up to the fullness of God. And the fullness of God? Well that is all that God has ever wanted for us, the fullness of Love itself. The fullness of Peace itself.
A well-done Lent leaves us empty of resentments, empty of guilt, empty of shame and empty of despair.
A well-done Lent leaves us empty enough to be filled---absolutely FILLED---with resurrection light, resurrection love and resurrection life.
So, as we're invited to the observance of a Holy Lent, remember that Lent is not something to endure, it's something to participate in--fully and completely--not because God is forcing us, but because we are sick and tired of hiding, denying, and shunning the darker parts of us. Through the observance of a Holy Lent we take all that weighs us down, those things we've stuffed into the recesses of our hearts, and lay it all down.
The observance of a Holy Lent requires that we dig deep.
To do this we must Rend our Hearts as described by Jan Richardson's poem, to do this we must empty ourselves so that we can be filled.
May God bless our rending, our emptying and then our receiving and filling. Amen
I then read this prayer for the events in Parkland, FL:
Good and Gracious God: we are at a loss.
We don't know how our children keep getting killed at school while we seem incapable of making this madness stop.
We ask for your blessing upon those who have died , for those who have been left behind to mourn an unimaginable loss;
we ask your urging to prod us out of helplessness and into action, out of hopelessness and into faith, out of fear and into courage.
We pray that we, together with our elected officials will find a way out of partisanship and into unity, out of blame and into responsibility.
We pray all this through the one who emptied himself of everything in order to save us all, Jesus Christ our Lord, who together with the Holy Spirit lives and reigns with you, now and forever.
Amen.
(C Dempesy-Sims, 2018)
To receive this blessing,
all you have to do
is let your heart break.
Let it crack open.
Let it fall apart
so that you can see
its secret chambers,
the hidden spaces
where you have hesitated
to go.
Your entire life
is here, inscribed whole
upon your heart's walls:
every path taken
or left behind,
every face you turned toward
or turned away,
every word spoken in love
or in rage,
every line of your life
you would prefer to leave
in shadow,
every story that shimmers
with treasures known
and those you have yet
to find.
It could take you days
to wander these rooms.
Forty, at least.
And so let this be
a season for wandering
for trusting the breaking
for tracing the tear
that will return you
to the One who waits
who watches
who works within
the rending
to make your heart
whole. (Jan Richardson)
My friends, Lent is not a time for dreariness, and wretchedness. Lent's a time for tearing open our hearts, reaching deep into our souls and laying all that weighs us down in front of our Creator. It's a time to get honest with ourselves--really honest---and to shed light on those things that linger deep within us, things that cause us shame, things that disgust us, things that sadden us, things that embarrass us.
Lent is time for freeing up space and time for God to enter in; some of us do this by removing (giving up) something for Lent, some of us do this by adding a practice (reading the Daily Office, or some other devotional). It doesn't matter how we do it, it matters that we are intentional about doing it.
Why...why do this? Why take this time to "change things up?" Well, because we, in our very human "human-ness" get distracted, we get absorbed in the things of this world, forgetting the things of God.
Our reading from Genesis comes toward the end of the Noah story, when God supposedly got so angry with humanity's behavior that God destroyed all the people of the earth, except for Noah and his immediate family. There are all sorts of theological debates we can have about whether God is a vengeful God, suffice it to say I don't think our God is a vengeful God. But I do think our God is often a sad and grieving God. Is God saddened and grieved when we turn away from God? Yes, I believe God grieves deeply at our insistence on doing things our way instead of God's. I think God is horribly grieved when we hurt one another. And I think God is especially grieved when we hurt ourselves.
I know that God weeps each and every time our children are killed in acts of senseless violence yet we seem incapable of doing anything about it.
Why do we rend our hearts and souls open before God during Lent? Not because God likes to see us suffer (no God NEVER wants us to suffer), not because it's good to deny ourselves simply for the sake of causing ourselves misery. No, we rend our hearts and souls open to God during Lent as a cleansing act to free us, to lighten us, to open ourselves up enough to fully receive the new life presented to us on Easter morning.
In the ancient church, Lent was a time for those who desired baptism to study and pray as a way to ready themselves for receiving new life in Christ through baptism. [this morning at 10:30 we have a baptism and with that act little xxxx will never need another baptism...because we only get baptized once, but Lent allows us time to prepare to be born again at that empty tomb. Lent is a time to free up space within us to receive the glory, the wonder and the awesomeness of resurrection life. The more room we open up the more Glory has room to roam within our hearts and souls.
This is why we do the tough work of Lent- not because we are bad, but because God is so incredibly good. And all God wants is for us to make room within ourselves to receive this Goodness.
You see, my friends, this is why Lent is great, because a well-done Lent allows for an incredible Easter. A well done Lent guarantees us a depth and breadth of joy on Easter morn beyond anything we've ever experienced.
A well-done Lent opens us to a Love that is stronger and a Peace that is greater than we can ever ask or imagine.
A well-done Lent opens us up to the fullness of God. And the fullness of God? Well that is all that God has ever wanted for us, the fullness of Love itself. The fullness of Peace itself.
A well-done Lent leaves us empty of resentments, empty of guilt, empty of shame and empty of despair.
A well-done Lent leaves us empty enough to be filled---absolutely FILLED---with resurrection light, resurrection love and resurrection life.
So, as we're invited to the observance of a Holy Lent, remember that Lent is not something to endure, it's something to participate in--fully and completely--not because God is forcing us, but because we are sick and tired of hiding, denying, and shunning the darker parts of us. Through the observance of a Holy Lent we take all that weighs us down, those things we've stuffed into the recesses of our hearts, and lay it all down.
The observance of a Holy Lent requires that we dig deep.
To do this we must Rend our Hearts as described by Jan Richardson's poem, to do this we must empty ourselves so that we can be filled.
May God bless our rending, our emptying and then our receiving and filling. Amen
I then read this prayer for the events in Parkland, FL:
Good and Gracious God: we are at a loss.
We don't know how our children keep getting killed at school while we seem incapable of making this madness stop.
We ask for your blessing upon those who have died , for those who have been left behind to mourn an unimaginable loss;
we ask your urging to prod us out of helplessness and into action, out of hopelessness and into faith, out of fear and into courage.
We pray that we, together with our elected officials will find a way out of partisanship and into unity, out of blame and into responsibility.
We pray all this through the one who emptied himself of everything in order to save us all, Jesus Christ our Lord, who together with the Holy Spirit lives and reigns with you, now and forever.
Amen.
(C Dempesy-Sims, 2018)
Sunday, February 11, 2018
Life doesn't happen on the mountaintop it happens in the valleys. St Peter's Niagara Falls Last Epiphany Year B, Feb. 11, 2018
+On this Transfiguration Sunday, this first Sunday before Lent, we look ahead, we glance behind and we take stock of our own faith journeys-
have we been transformed, have we been transfigured?
Episcopal priest Adam Thomas says that the Transfiguration isn't so much about the change in Jesus' appearance, or about the arrival of Moses and Elijah, or even about the proclamation of God from the cloud. …instead, says Thomas, the Transfiguration is about how a glimpse of the Holy, an experience of the Divine, transformed the disciples, and how it can-how it must-- transform us.
There's no doubt that exposure to the Holy, the Divine, casts a physical change- Moses' skin shone when he encountered God, Jesus' face and clothes glisten in this morning's gospel account of the Transfiguration-but the real change, the everlasting change, is what happens internally, when one experiences the Divine.
What really matters is how that experience changes us, how we carry it in our day-to-day lives.
According to Biblical scholar Fred Craddock, mountain top experiences are fine and dandy, but where the rubber really meets the road is what happens when we come down off the mountain, when we enter the valley where the light has faded, the sheen dulled, and the dirt and grime of daily life predominates.
Craddock and Thomas are on to something here…Christianity isn't about mountaintops, it's about valleys. Because if it was about mountaintops then
Jesus wouldn't have been born in a barn to peasant parents from a backwater town. If it was about mountaintops Jesus wouldn't have been executed like a common criminal, hung on a tree, mocked and spat upon. If it was about mountaintops Jesus' followers wouldn't have been a rag-tag band of disciples who fell asleep at a drop of a hat, doubted at the slightest turn, or denied their teacher in times of greatest need.
No, this faith of ours is the faith of the valley. This faith of ours gets lived out in the ordinary of our day-to-day lives, because Christianity is less about fancy and more about simple.
But simple doesn't mean less Holy.
Even down here in the valley, sacred things happen all the time. The Holy can-the Holy does-- pop up everywhere.
The sacred isn't necessarily glamorous and the Holy needn't come in some transfigured glory. Usually, God's right here, walking with us through the valley of regular life.
But, who can blame Peter (or the rest of us) for wanting to freeze that moment of glory upon the mountain, to linger in the wisdom and wonder of Elijah, Moses, Jesus and God?
That's far more appealing than going back to daily life.
But Peter forgets that such an overwhelming experience of the Holy isn't the transformative thing-no the Technicolor wow of an experience of the sacred, of the Holy is simply the fuel for change. Blockbuster encounters with the Holy serve as the nourishment needed to follow God's directive that we listen to God's beloved Son-and use the Good News of his life and ministry to transform this world.
Peter sees the Transfiguration but fails to feel the transformation.
Everyone has experienced this in one form or another---we have some powerful experience-a moment when we feel truly touched by God and we swear, we swear that this is it, we'll change our ways, we'll never forget, we'll turn over a new leaf…but it doesn't last. It doesn't last because the high of that moment cannot be sustained.
It cannot be sustained because life doesn't happen on the mountaintop it happens in the valleys.
In the Holy Land there are two sites considered most probable as locations for the Transfiguration. At one of these sites, Mt.Tabor, a gorgeous church has been built. The day I visited was very sunny and the view from atop the mountain was as stunning. I didn't want to leave! I lingered, taking lots of pictures, trying to freeze the mountaintop moment- I wanted to stay there forever! In this way, I guess I was a lot like Peter. But soon I had to go and suddenly our tour group was back in reality. Jesus, James, John and Peter do the same thing.
Jesus' reality, his valley, is on full display, in the few lines following today's Gospel excerpt we hear about infighting among Jesus' followers, clamoring among people desperate for Jesus' healing touch and temple authorities out for His blood.
It's here, at this point of the Gospel, that the true meaning of transformation becomes clear.
For all the bright shiny white garments, all the glorious sun splashed mountaintop views, all the unremitting wonder of God's voice booming from the heavens doesn't heal our world.
All the experiences of the Holy, all the sacred feelings, all the Transfigurations doesn't bring God's kingdom to earth.
What heals this world, what brings the Holy right here, right now, are people. People like you and me who've listened to God's Son, and try our best to live as we've been taught:
Finding the sacred in the mundane, finding the holy in the ordinary and being transformed by the routine.
For our faith is not the faith of royalty, it's the faith of peasants.
Ours isn't the faith of the powerful, it's the faith of the weak and ours isn't the faith of the mountaintop it's the faith of the valley.
Today, as we dedicate the kitchen renovations that will transform the lives of the Carolyn's House residents, and many many others, the Gospel challenges us live into the fullness of what the incarnation:
We are to journey with Jesus to Jerusalem, we are to climb upon His cross and we are to lay alongside him in his tomb.
Today we climb off the mountaintop of the nativity and and walk down into the valley of real life ---- not a walk of despair and hopelessness but a walk of transformed faith and transfigured hope rejoicing that we, along with with God's Son, and along with all who are served by and through you in Christ's name are Chosen and Beloved by God. Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.
Amen
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