What Does Transfiguration sunday Have to do with Us Today?

Mark 9:2-9 Transfiguration 2018

My husband and I recently traveled to the Holy Land. We saw these amazing holy places related to the life of Jesus.  For Christians, the two most sacred of these sites are undoubtedly the Church of the Nativity, in Old Town Bethlehem, which marks the spot where Jesus was born, and, in the Christian quarter of Old City Jerusalem, the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. This is the church built over the stones of Golgotha, where Jesus was crucified; through a hole in the floor, you can even reach down and touch the stone. At a lower level in the complex that makes up this site, there is a cave believed to be the empty tomb where Jesus was laid following his crucifixion, and from which he was raised in the resurrection on Easter morning.

The two churches that stand at these sites were erected over 15oo years and 1000 years ago respectively; each has experienced cycles of construction, conquest, destruction, reconstruction and holy pilgrimage. Today they are overseen and administered jointly by a constellation of ancient church bodies, among them several Orthodox expressions of Christ’s church.

If you’ve ever been to an Orthodox church, you know they are very ornate by our standards. It is typical to see a great deal of polished brass and silver, gilded icons and gold mosaics at any Orthodox place of worship, especially around and upon the altar and the chancel area. While we might consider this ostentatious, to the Orthodox, the finest textiles, silver and gold vessels, icons and adornments symbolize the glory of God, and give praise and adoration to God Most High.

As you might imagine, there, in the Holy Land, when it comes to these holiest of Christian sites, these sites connected with the pivotal moments of the life of Jesus, the adoration and therefore the amount of ornamentation placed by the Orthodox churches is incredible, with massive displays of precious metals and stones surrounding the areas devoted to Christ’s birth, death, and resurrection.

With lighting from modern-day fixtures shining down on them, the light reflecting off the shiny brass, gold and silver surrounding the places of holy attention is overwhelmingly brilliant - the effect quite stunning, and sometimes, at certain angles, quite blinding.

As I read the texts for today, especially the description of the sheer brilliance of Jesus’ clothing, I thought about the places we saw. I understood, for the first time, I think, what inspires such showy extravagance. It’s a lot like what God did for Jesus that day.

As Jesus was changed before Peter, James and John, high upon the mountaintop, the place traditionally considered the closest place to heaven the text says, “his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them.”

Throughout Scripture mountains are places of divine revelation, and what happened on that mountaintop was God’s doing. God, who sent his Son to earth to save us from our sin, now, before these trusted disciples puts on a display the meaning of which there can be no question – the display reveals the divine glory which God himself ascribes to Jesus. In what is what is known as the Transfiguration of Jesus, God causes Jesus, sent to be the light of the world, to shine like the sun.

The sites throughout the Holy Land are preserved for people like my husband and me and the millions who have preceded us and the many who will follow us throughout the centuries to see and experience these places of holy significance. That’s what we, as finite human beings do. We attempt to capture or encapsulate special events, places and things that hold meaning for us, far various reasons.

We want to hold on to the special moments and places by capturing them, memorializing them, sharing them with people, and building monuments and keepsakes to our experience of them.

I wonder if that is what Peter was trying to do in our gospel text this morning. Perhaps he, too, was trying to hold on to, capture, encapsulate, or memorialize the moment and the experience. Maybe he even thought if he built dwellings there on that mountain it would preserve the moment and keep Moses and Elijah there too, and then he could bring people back here and share this experience with them, too. Because really, if we can’t share in that experience, what does this Transfiguration mean for us?

Today, each of our lessons reveals divine light. Together, they build to the climax of the gospel, where the glory and favor of God is revealed in the person of Jesus Christ. The voice from the cloud comes – God’s own voice, declaring, “This is my Son, the Beloved,” and then, a command, “listen to him!”

As the clothes fade back to normal and the two heroes of the faith disappear, Jesus and his companions start back down the mountain. That’s the remarkable thing. In some ways, perhaps, the most remarkable thing – apart from the Transfiguration itself – that Jesus, moments after being revealed in divine glory upon the mountaintop chooses to return, to dwell among humans, knowing what will come of his earthly enterprise.

Because Jesus does know what is coming. After all, in the verses just before these, Jesus has just predicted his own passion and death, and delivered a teaching on the suffering path of true discipleship.

So, we need to ask ourselves, what does this Transfiguration Sunday have to do with us today?

Episcopal priest, Wil Gafney writes, “The worlds in which these texts are set include brutal wars, occupation, colonization, slavery, financial exploitation, and interpersonal violence. And yet God chooses to dwell among her people, accompanying them through the perils of a very broken world. These texts testify to God’s presence in our world as well; we are every bit as broken and God is every bit as present. In a world deluged by floods, shaken by architectural and economic collapses, and bruised by violence between persons and nations, the enduring presence and undimmed glory of God is a beacon of hope and comfort.”

God’s final word in this text is a word of command – listen to him. That’s God’s final word to us on this Transfiguration Sunday. Listen to Jesus.

To listen to Jesus is to hear his word, to follow his call to serve as his disciples. To listen to Jesus involves picking up our crosses to follow wherever he leads, knowing that the road may not be easy, but that he does not leave us alone.

To listen to Jesus is to know that in him, God pours out God’s heart and love into the world to transform you and me and all who believe in Jesus so that we can follow him, for the life of the world. To listen to Jesus means to be transformed by his presence in our lives –transformed into disciples who live our lives like his, caring about what he cares about, and persisting against the injustices and sin Jesus himself persisted in speaking out and acting against. Listening to Jesus involves shaping our lives into cruciform witness to his glory and his love.

God, in Jesus, sees all people as worthwhile, and worthy of love and dignity and respect. Through Jesus, God intends to use the gifts God has given us to care for each other and the world.

My friends, the reality is that brutal wars, occupation, colonization, slavery, financial exploitation, and interpersonal violence still exist in our world. We are both part of the brokenness, and part of the healing. Acknowledging our need for a savior, God still transforms us into servants of the world, sent to listen to Jesus by reflecting the light of his love in our lives. 

While the kingdom of God has broken into the world in Jesus, the fulfillment of the kingdom will not come until Jesus comes again in all his glory.

And yet, even now, God chooses to dwell among her people, not in tents built upon a mountaintop, but here among us, accompanying us through the perils of a very broken world.

What does Transfiguration Sunday have to do with us today?

Transfiguration Sunday leads us toward the season of Lent. It leaves us with a transforming command – listen to Jesus, and do as he does.

As Jesus and the disciples will leave the mountain and its glory behind and descend into the brokenness of the world to live out their callings, the church heeds the call to Lenten disciplines amid the troubles of the world.

At the end of today’s service we “leave our alleluias” behind, and we pledge to focus not on the dazzle and shine of the light of Christ, but on what it means that he not only descended from heaven to live among us, but that he came down from that mountain that he might complete his journey to the cross.

Transfiguration Sunday serves not only as a bridge between Epiphany and Lent, but as a reminder that in Jesus, God not only bridges the place between heaven and earth but eradicates it, filling us with possibility, love, and the hope of the ages.

Amen.

The Heart Condition

Ash Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Readings: Joel 2:1-2,12-17; 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10; Matthew 6:1-6,16-21 

You may not be able to tell this by looking at me, but the truth of the matter is, I have a heart condition. It’s a serious condition, though there is not cardiologist in the world who can do a whit about it. There is no surgeon who has the skill to open up my heart and fix what is broken.

The fact of the matter is, I’ve never even seen a doctor about my heart condition. I know that there is nothing that any one of them can do despite all the medical knowledge amassed over the centuries; there is no research that has come up with a cure, nor could there ever be; and the development of ever-more delicate and intricate procedures, medications and treatments to correct the imperfections of our bodies fail to produce an answer to what ails me.

In a sense, my condition is hereditary and here’s the clincher – I’m afraid that I share this condition with all of you. We’ve all inherited the same heart condition, along with our DNA and all that goes into making us who we are. It is congenital; we were each born with it. As members of a fallen race, there is nothing that our mothers could have done to have prevented it. Here we are, each one of us suffering from the same condition, each with our own set of symptoms and maladies that go along with it. And as I’m sure you’ve surmised by now, this condition is closely related to, in fact is caused by that thing that is undeniably a part of who we are - sin.

Here at the beginning of this season of Lent, it occurs to me that much of the work of Lent is truly about the heart. Our lessons today would certainly lead us to believe that this is true. In them we read words like, “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me,” and, “Yet even now, says the LORD, return to me with all your heart,” and, “rend your hearts not your clothing,” then finally, in the gospel text from Matthew, we are left with these final words, “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

So if Lent is a lot about heart, what do we do about this heart condition of ours?

We often talk about Lent being a journey; after all, we are describing something that isn’t over in a flash but takes more than forty long days to unfold. Yet for most of us, it’s not really our journey, but Christ’s journey that we are after. After all it is Jesus who is on his way to Jerusalem. It is Jesus who is literally and figuratively following a road that will lead him to his passion and his death. We are less travelers along this journey with Jesus than we are spectators, bystanders lined up along the roadside, observing the events taking place and marking the signposts along the way.

Those signposts include the gospel images of Jesus’ temptation in the desert, and his encounter with Nicodemus and later, with the Samaritan woman at the well. During Lent we hear from our gospel texts about the man who was born blind and was healed by Christ, and about Lazarus being raised from the dead. Then, finally we arrive at the gates of Jerusalem where Jesus is met by a jubilant crowd bearing royal banners in his honor and waving palm branches in exultation, followed in short order by Jesus’ last supper with his disciples, his being handed over to the authorities under whose watch he will suffer his passion and death.

So, with all of this happening to Jesus, how do we enter this Lenten journey? And why would we even want to? What might we hope to take away from this holy season? How does Jesus’ journey become our journey?

I think the answers to all of these questions lead us back to our heart condition and to these impossibly broken hearts and the sin that we cling to. I think we come looking for a cure. We look for the reassurance that our heart condition will not be fatal. We seek ways to closer union with God, so that our hearts might be created anew and strengthened. My friends, we come to this journey because we desperately need our hearts to be healed and we know deep down inside that our only hope for these diseased, corrupted, and faulty hearts of ours is to be found through Jesus, most powerfully at the foot of his cross.

In Paul’s letter to the church at Corinth, a church in conflict with itself, suffering divisions and distractions to the mission of the church, with many of the members at odds with each other and many under the influence of false apostles, Paul talks about the reconciliation of relationships.  Paul makes it clear that it is through the cross, that God’s reconciling sacrifice and God’s love bring a cross-shaped reality to the disciples of Christ. It is God’s healing work on the cross that makes it possible for us to be reconciled and healed in two directions – healed in relationship with God, and healed in relationship with one another. It is through this reconciliation with God that God is able to take our hearts that have been torn apart by sin and brokenness, and create them anew…making possible reconciliation with others and restoring the relationships that reflect the love of God and the mercy and grace of Jesus Christ.

Disciples of Christ, living out the reality of the cross in daily life and ministry, live with a new reality – that God’s reconciling, loving embrace of us, with all of our raw edges and imperfections, with these heart conditions that rule our lives and our interactions, is not only able to change us but save us and bring us to new life. And God uses the cross to do it. Christ invites us into ministry and life shaped by that very same cross.

Our Lenten journey, not surprisingly is also shaped by the cross of Christ, not only on Good Friday but every day; … it’s why the ashes we mark today are in the sign of a cross. While Paul describes reconciliation that is cruciform – it will include the work of opening our hearts to and for God, and opening our lives and hearts to and for one another. It is only through Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection that this kind of reconciliation and new life is possible. 

Opening hearts to God comes in many different forms – Lenten practices like fasting, praying, exercising patience and compassion and generosity through almsgiving all draw us into the Lenten journey, drawing us closer to God. The reality is that although spiritual practices are needed in order for us to distance ourselves from all that distracts and divides us, it is God who makes all this possible.

Like the people in the encounters with Jesus that we will witness through the biblical texts in the coming weeks, our own encounters with Jesus will be transformative.  God’s heart-work of changing lives, forgiving sins, healing broken bodies and souls and raising the dead to new life, calls us to engage in this journey called Lent that we might experience God’s reconciling reality for all. Therefore, as we begin this season of Lent, let us rend our hearts to the great physician, engaging in those tried and true Christian practices that engage our body, mind, and spirit. And may the peace, love and reconciling grace of God be with you throughout these forty days.

Let us pray. O Lord our God, we come to you with hearts broken by sin. Have mercy on us O Lord, and through our journey with Christ this Lent bring us the healing and wholeness we so desperately need. Make our hearts clean and our spirits, focused on the cross, that our relationships with you and our neighbor might be restored for the sake of your kingdom. In Jesus’ name we pray.

Amen.

Can You See them Now?

Isaiah 2:1-5 ~ Advent I, December 1, 2013

Blessed Advent to you all, my friends.                  

With the singing of these beautiful hymns, reflecting themes of hopeful watching and waiting, the lighting of the first candle on our Advent wreath just a few moments ago, and the changes within our sanctuary, we truly know that the season of Advent has begun.

The blue paraments that now adorn our pulpit, and lectern and the beautiful new banners, gifts from another congregation, and the quilt depicting the coming of the angel to Mary all provide visual cues that alert us to the fact that we have entered this holy season. But not all is happy and holy, is it? Did you hear the Old Testament reading?

During Advent this year, all the Old Testament texts are pregnant with hope and expectation, and come from the prophet whose writings are often used to prepare for the coming of Christmas. But it’s not an easy pregnancy. These texts are chosen for the poetic way that this prophet spoke about the house of God that would one day come, bringing with it deliverance for the people of God. They are used for the ways they invite us into imagining a future where fully God reigns, where the world is transformed, where suffering is stripped away, where unity and peace will be more than a dream but instead are a reality. Where all peoples are part of the peaceable kingdom.

Because these readings from Isaiah contain some of the most vivid imagery we have, I thought that for these four weeks of Advent, I would preach a sermon series, “The Things Isaiah Saw.” Together, let’s discover the link between these precious texts written by the prophet centuries before the coming of Christ, and our lives today.

What do we know about the prophets, like Isaiah? We know that they were not popular in their own time. We also know that prophets rose up during times of great distress and tribulation and lament. They all have one particular thing in common. Their central message went something like this: things are bad, they are really bad, and they are going to get worse (hence the unpopularity business). But, they continue, take heart. Repent! Because something is coming that will astound you; God has heard your pleas, and be assured, there will be a grand reversal, the likes of which you cannot even imagine. God will bring this about, and although there will be judgment, there will also be great vindication for God’s faithful ones, and what will follow is going to knock your socks off. There will be salvation in a kingdom that is beyond anything you can imagine. So, wait for it. Look for it. Prepare for it.

Just before the text we have before us this morning, in the first chapter of the book, Isaiah has just described the reality of what he observed around him. And it was bad. It was really, really bad. What did Isaiah see? He saw violence and devastation, destroyed cities; he saw officials selling their constituents out and taking bribes; he saw the people living unfaithfully; Isaiah saw treachery and he saw people trampling on the poor and vulnerable. He saw wickedness, children corrupted by the evil all around them. He witnessed rebels and sinners intent on destroying what God had built up. Yet he declares that “Zion shall be redeemed by justice, and those in her who repent, by righteousness.” (1:27)

Then comes today’s reading and Isaiah moves to a different vision – one that comes out of the future. He describes a glorious vision of what he saw coming for Judah and Jerusalem. And what were the things Isaiah saw? He saw God’s house established as the highest of mountains – a position of dominance and authority; and he saw all peoples, all nations streaming to it (even enemy nations, no longer at war). God will judge between them, and they shall war no more.

God shall teach all these people the ways of the LORD, Isaiah prophesizes. They will learn from the great teacher and judge how to live in God’s ways, so that they could “walk in his paths” – that is, so that they could be transformed into righteous ones, doing godlike work for the future glorious kingdom of God. And “they shall beat swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.” Killing fields will be transformed into life-giving gardens of plenty. Can you see it?

What an image! Can you see the hammer of the blacksmith or the metal worker or a soldier or a king coming down on the sword and spear, pounding again and again, beating the tool of warfare into an implements used to plow the field and harvest good food?

If I could have found one and managed to get it in here this morning, I would have set an old plow up, right in front of the altar, right in front of the table of the Lord. Because I think the visual might help us to see and imagine what this text is saying to us today. And we need to see and hear what this word of God is saying for us today.

Instead, you’ll find an image of a plow like the one Isaiah spoke of right there on the front of your bulletin. Imagine this farming implement, this tool for planting the life-giving grain and vegetables and fruit that are so necessary for life and for strong bodies, and imagine that it was once a weapon of war, once used for cutting off life. Imagine it has been transformed. I wonder, where have you seen killing fields transformed into life-giving gardens of plenty?

In contemplating this question, Barbara Lundblad, a Lutheran pastor, author and teacher, relates this image: Can you see Christian and Muslim women all dressed in white? In 2003, the Women of Liberia Mass Action for Peace, organized by social worker Leymah Gbowee, started praying and singing for peace in the fish markets of their towns and cities, places that were for years torn apart by a horrible, tragic, devastating civil war. They organized nonviolent protests. And at one point, they lay down on the ground, side by side, on their bellies near the main highway in Monrovia, Liberia, where everyone could see them. It was a huge embarrassment to Liberian President Charles Taylor. They protested until he finally agreed to attend peace talks in Ghana. When those talks faltered, the women came to Ghana. Can you see them? They linked arms around the government building until the talks started up again. The tragic civil war in Liberia finally came to an end. Things aren’t perfect in Liberia, but they are not at war any more. Can you see the women dancing in the streets?

Can you see the young black woman holding on to her seat on the bus? Today is the anniversary of the arrest of Rosa Parks for refusing to give up her seat to a white passenger on a bus in Montgomery, Alabama, an action that spurred a boycott. Things didn’t turn around right away, but Rosa Parks became an icon for social change and the end of segregation and beginning of a new reality for civil rights in this country. Can you see her later working with the likes of Martin Luther King, Jr. bringing a new kind of freedom for many Americans? Things aren’t perfect yet. Racial tensions still exist and devastate communities. But laws were changed, lives and visions for a future were transformed, and the doors of opportunity were opened through the peaceful protest of Parks and so many others like her.

“They shall beat swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.” Killing fields will be transformed into life-giving gardens of plenty. Can you see it?

This summer, several churches in Talbot County, Grace among them, participated in the Migrant Worker Ministries, providing basic provisions for migrant workers in the area. Because of the outpouring of generosity of members of Grace, one Monday in August, two cars pulled right up alongside the church, right here on Hanson Street, where they were filled to the brim with necessary supplies and clothing and other items which were then delivered to the residents of three different migrant worker camps just up the road. Many of the residents there are alien workers. Many are working here to provide for families in countries devastated by poverty and drug wars.

There I literally witnessed tears of joy from men who live and work in harsh conditions, far from home, toiling in poverty for meager wages and no benefits. “They shall beat swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword again nation, neither shall they learn war anymore.” Killing fields of poverty transformed into life-giving gardens of plenty through the generosity of strangers. Can you see it?

In the text, Isaiah admonishes the people to come and to learn God’s way. It is more than an invitation, it is a summons to walk in the Lord’s light and glory, to follow God’s instruction, to eventually cross the bridge of truth and justice for all people, and arrive at a place of peace. Isaiah tells us that people will be transformed by this teaching. It won’t be easy; it will take courage and obedience and justice – and patience! But this text offers affirmation that history will one day reach its goal – and the full reign of God will come. And God’s kingdom requires radical transformation of existing conditions.

At the beginning of the journey there is yearning, but take heart; expect the unexpected, where tanks for warring are transformed into tractors; where minefields designed for destruction are transformed into soccer fields; where stories of a future, where hope burns for justice, and peace and plenty will be appreciated by all peoples.

As we prepare this Advent for the coming of Christ, may we find in this living Word of God a word that speaks to us today, calling us to beat swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks, and urging us to transform killing fields into life-giving fields of peace and plenty, through repentance, through courageous love and action, and through hope-filled expectation at the coming of Emmanuel, the final judge and ransom of the world. Amen.