Cave of Fear

Mark 9:30-37

 

Once again we hear a gospel lesson that contains elements of fear. Jesus tells his disciples what the Messiah will face: betrayal and death, the disciples are seized with fear and were afraid to ask Jesus anything.

 

There was once a town where the thing everyone feared the most was getting lost at night in the “Cave of Fear”. No one had ever returned from there, and whenever anyone got lost and ended up there, the last that was heard was a great cry of terror, followed by a few enormous guffaws. The townsfolk lived in terror that one day the monster would leave the cave. So they regularly left gifts and food at the mouth of the cave, and these always soon disappeared.

 

One day, a young man came to town, and, as he heard about the situation with the cave, he thought that it was unfair. So he decided to enter the cave and confront the monster. The young man asked for some help, but everyone was so afraid that not a single person approached the mouth of the cave with him. He went inside, finding his way with a torch, and calling out to the monster, wanting to talk with it and discuss the situation. At first, the monster had a good long laugh, and the young man followed the sound of the monster's voice. But then the monster went quiet, and the young man had to carry on, not knowing in which direction to go.

 

Finally he arrived at a huge cavern. At the bottom of the cavern he thought he could make out the figure of the monster, and as he approached it, he felt that something hit him hard on his back. This pushed him forward towards a hole in the rock. He couldn't avoid it, and fell through. Believing that he was about to die, he let out one last cry. Then he heard the great guffaws.

 

-“Darn it, I think the monster has swallowed me,” he said, while falling.

 

However, as he fell, he heard music, and voices. They got clearer, and when he made a soft landing at the bottom, he heard a group of people shout:  -“Surprise!!”

 

 

Hardly believing it, he found himself right in the middle of a big party. The partygoers were all those people who had never returned to the town. They explained to him that this place had been the idea of an old mayor of the town. That mayor had tried to accomplish great things, but was always held back by the fears of the people around him. So the mayor invented the story of the monster to demonstrate to people how such an attitude was so limiting. So the young man stayed there, enjoying the party and the company of all those who had dared to approach the cave.

And what about the town? In the town they still believe that to enter the Cave of Fear is the worst of all punishments... (freestories.com/caveoffear).

 

The two New Testament readings for today (James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a and Mark 9:30-37) point to the relationship between faith and fear. I know you’ve heard me preach on the subject of faith and fear, after all, it’s a topic that seems perpetually relevant as fear is something we are surrounded by through images, the daily news – especially political news! – as well as our own deep seated fears stemming from who-knows-what. We all have fears – and Jesus knows this and he certainly knew this about his disciples. Notice that the disciples do not ask Jesus any questions in response to his prediction of his impending crucifixion because they are afraid. And the next thing you know they’re talking about securing their place in the coming kingdom. Fear does that. It both paralyzes us and drives us to look out only for ourselves.

 

Maybe you have had the same experience as me. Over the years I’ve made some pretty bad decisions and actions because of my reaction to fear. Fear has a way of leading us to identify both threats and opportunities wrongly, sometimes causing irrational behavior, and even narrowing our vision so it’s difficult to see possibilities. I remember a priest preaching on fear many years ago who explained the difference between reacting and responding. He said, ‘we react to fear; but we respond in love’. When we are stressed or worried or even agitated over something, we can react in fear, or respond in love. This is why it’s hard to be wise, prudent, or compassionate when we are afraid. Just look again to the present refugee crisis: the imprisoning and even dehumanizing of refugees trying to make their way across Europe is not a response in love, rather, a reaction in fear. (ISIS itself is gripped by fear. They are obsessed with absolute power because of their fear of having no power. For them, power can not be shared.)

 

You see, because Jesus told his disciples that the Son of Man would be betrayed and killed, fear seized them. They said nothing, Mark tells us: “they did not understand what he was saying and were afraid to ask him.” They were afraid to even ask! All of us have fears. Sometimes we don’t even realize that we are afraid. Perhaps in those moments, we become like the disciples and say or do nothing.

 

 

I’m going to take an opportunity now to share with you my own fear. Not just because I think it might make for a good sermon (although I hope it does!), but because as I was studying these readings, I came across a commentary that rang all too true about some fears that I have within the scope of my own ministry as your rector.

 

Taking on the pastoral leadership of any congregation is no small task. Sometimes as leaders we wonder why things at church aren’t going the way we think they should. This past week I had a talk with two staff members who have improved their ministries steadily since they began here at St. Christopher’s: those staff members are Resale Shop manager Aprille Williams and our Day School director, Monica Cadavid. I brought my questions and fears to them to see how we might respond to instances like why a particular Sunday such as Invitation Sunday brought such a low turnout when the opposite was expected. I asked what I can do as a leader to inspire our congregation to be more engaged and to follow Jesus a bit more closely. I asked questions around how we and our parish members might increasingly become better stewards of the gifts God has freely given. I asked them how we might be more hospitable to those seeking a relationship with Jesus through this faith community. My fear was that there must be something I’m doing or not doing.

 

Immediately after speaking with Aprille and Monica, I read a post from David Lose, President of Lutheran Theological Seminary in Philadelphia and biblical scholar, who wrote on this exact topic for congregational leaders. The similarity between my discussion and this posting was uncanny. Lose writes to pastors:

 

“What fears pursue you during the day and haunt you at night? What worries weigh you down so that it’s difficult to move forward in faith? Is it the fear your congregation will shrink or die? Fear that you will not make budget? Concern that you don’t know why what you’re doing doesn’t seem to work like it used to? Or anxiety about what will come next? Perhaps it’s simple anxiousness about whether there will be conflict at the next meeting of your church vestry.

 

These fears have a way of sneaking into our very being and robbing us of the abundant life Jesus came to announce and to share.

 

Only after naming our own fears, I think, is it fair to ask our people what they may fear. (And, to be sure, they may overlap.) Fear about being alone, fear about losing a loved one or a relationship ending, anxieties about health or employment, concern for the future of one’s children or grandchildren, dread about the return of mental or physical illness, apprehension for the environment and the world we will leave behind? All these and more strip life of pleasure and joy and make it very difficult to be wise and faithful stewards of the present moment and resources with which God has entrusted us.

 

Jesus’ response to our fears and anxieties is an invitation not to faith intellectually – as if believing in God somehow prohibits fear – but rather to faith as movement, faith as taking a step forward (even a little step) in spite of doubt and fear, faith as doing even the smallest thing in the hope and trust of God’s promises (davidlose.net).

 

All of us in one way or another have a Cave of Fear that we dread and try to avoid. It is only by entering that Cave, do we end up controlling our fears rather than our fears controlling us. I believe this theology is wrapped up in our Baptismal theology and proclamation. Taking a step in faith, even a small one, in the hope and trust of God’s promises is what we just proclaimed in the baptismal liturgy: “Do you put your whole trust in [Jesus’] grace and love?”

 

Today, we renew our faith and our trust in God through the salvation power of Jesus. As I always share with the family of those being baptized, baptism is not a get-out-of-hell-free card, but rather the initiation into the life of grace; the life of grace promised by God through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. This is not a call into a life of fear, but rather the entrance into a life of faith, trust, and promise.

 

Talking about my fears with two trusted people on my staff helped to remind me that we are about the work of God in this place. We are not about our own work, but God’s work. Leading an Episcopal Day School is God’s work. Serving and managing a Resale Shop that benefits people beyond our walls is God’s work. Serving and leading a congregation to come to the knowledge and love of Jesus Christ is certainly God’s work – not my work or your work or anyone else’s work, but God’s work. We are simply and gracefully called into this work by our baptism.

 

Let us pray:

Almighty God, we thank you that by the death and resurrection of your Son Jesus Christ you have overcome sin and brought us to yourself, and that by the sealing of your Holy Spirit you have bound us to your service. Renew in us, your servants, the covenant you made with us at our Baptism. Send us forth in the power of that Spirit to perform the service you set before us; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Easter Change

Easter is a natural time for change. I know we don’t usually like change, especially in our faith communities. We like stability and predictability. Although sometimes we do like and appreciate change. Take politics for instance. Have you noticed how many politicians run on the notion and promise of “change”? Maybe when we are open to change, it may be because we are expecting the change to be something like the way we think things use to be, or the way we think things ought to be.
 

Why do I begin on the subject of change? Well, because when we speak of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ, we are professing a faith and a reality that changed everything. It changed how we relate to God and how God relates to us. Jesus’ Resurrection was a victory over oppressive political and religious power structures. Jesus’ Resurrection was such an act of love that it’s as if God fell in love with us all over again. That’s what I love about Easter. In God’s eyes, we get to start over again with a clean slate.
 

So how do we, the Church, respond to this love and newness of life? Well, first, with gratitude. Unbridled gratitude. But then this gratitude and response to God’s love for us must – must, extend from us and be passed on to others.
 

Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby, calls for a “seismic shift” in the way Anglicans must carry out the work of extending God’s love to others (this is evangelism, by the way). As Anglicans and Episcopalians, we love our church. We love our history and we love our traditions. The Episcopal Church, as I have always considered it, is the “come and see” church (“Can anything good come out of Nazareth? Come and see.” John 1:46). When someone asks, “what is the Episcopal Church” or “what does your church believe”, the best answer, in my opinion, is “come and see”. Come to an Episcopal Church and hear the prayers and experience the rhythm of the liturgy and you will see what we believe in, what we stand for.
 

 

But before we begin to encourage one another to invite others to “come and see”, we have some work to do as God’s people. Archbishop Welby said a couple of things about the Church: “First”, he said, “the church exists to worship God in Jesus Christ. Second, the Church exists to make new disciples of Jesus Christ. Everything else is decoration. Some of it may be very necessary, useful, or wonderful decoration – but it’s decoration.”
 

We as Christians have our work cut out for us because the world needs so much to hear that there is a God that, through the Resurrection of Jesus Christ, has fallen in love with them. We must let others know this very simple, yet profound and most important message. Welby acknowledges, “I am under no illusion as to the seismic shift that needs to take place in order for this to happen. But a seismic shift is what we need. For this country will not know of the revolutionary love of Christ by church structures or clergy, but by the witness of every single Christian.”
 

I believe his words that it will take a “seismic shift” in our Anglican churches to be a church of invitation and sharers of the life-changing message of Jesus Christ. It’s because as Anglicans and Episcopalians we’ve just never really been good at this sort of thing. But we must begin a change, or a transformation from this behavior. We love our church and its people. So why not share this Good News that the Episcopal Church proclaims in Jesus?
 

My immediate plan is to bring a team of vestry and lay leaders to a 2-day Summit at Camp Allen that will inspire us to engage in the work of Invitation and Welcome. Look around in your church on any given Sunday morning and notice the number of people present. The number seems to be declining. Of course, we will never be a mega-church or a Lakewood, and few if any of us would ever strive to be that. Yet, we all want our church to reach more people. Not for the sake of just having them here, but that we will play a vital and exciting role in bringing others to the knowledge and love of Jesus Christ.
 

Another Archbishop from A.D. 407, John Chrysostom said, “To become a disciple of Christ is to obey his law of love; and obedience to the law brings joy beyond measure and description. Love means to want the best for others, sharing with them the joy of love. So the Christian feels compelled to speak to others about the law of love, and the joy of obeying this law.”
 

We are not all going to become evangelists overnight, but we can begin to address the changes we need to make corporately and individually to engage in this work for the Church of Jesus Christ that we are called to steward.
 

So, I have an easy task for you: Invite someone to church for Easter Day. (I have actually done this myself already. I invited a neighbor.) Bring someone in time to have breakfast here on Easter morning, served from 9 to 10. And most importantly, give your guest the “come and see” treatment as we joyfully worship God in gratitude and awe of Jesus’ Resurrection.
 

I conclude with Welby’s final sentences, “Jesus involves us in His work of calling people to follow him. This is the work of evangelism. However weakly, however hesitantly, He calls us to extend our hands and our hearts, to use our words and lives, to echo His call to every person to follow Him. For it is the best decision anyone can ever make is to be a follower of Jesus Christ.”
 

Have a blessed Holy Season of Lent and a joyous Eastertide.

Crumbs and Grace

"Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs." 

 

 

There are a lot of profound sayings or responses in scripture and for me, this response is at the top of the list.

 

 

The response comes from Jesus' initial reaction to a Syrophoenician woman whose daughter lies ill from a demonic possession. She begs Jesus to heal her daughter and Jesus - one might say callously - responds to her request by saying "Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children's; food and throw it to the dogs." Immediately we want to rescue Jesus from this cold response, by dismissing it as a test or some sort of translation miscue that softens the statement. I say no, Jesus said what he said and meant it. We should hold him to it. What might be prudent on our part is to go a bit deeper. It's always a good idea for the scripture-reading Christian to go a bit deeper!
 

A traditional answer to the question of why Jesus answers her so is: He is not actually refusing her but rather testing her. That is, the rebuff, the insult, the rejection – these aren’t real at all but rather the means by which to test her faith, to see if she really, really believes in him. And, of course, she passes.
 

The trouble with this interpretation is that 1) there is no mention of testing in this story, and 2)I think it creates a rather cold-hearted picture of a God who taunts and tests us in our deepest moments of need. If not this interpretation, then what? Why on earth, that is, would Jesus react to someone in need in such a harsh manner?
 

As callous as his response was to her - I think Jesus was elevating this woman's status. Doesn't this sound more like the Jesus we know? Doesn't the thought of Jesus finding an outsider, an outcast, someone who is seen by his religious culture as a lesser human, then elevating that person's identity and humanity to be on par with his? I think it does.
 

Jesus invites this woman - this "woman; a Gentile, of Syrophoenician origin" - into a rabbinic dialogue. Rabbi's argued. It's how they discussed the meaning and interpretation of scripture and of God's deeds of power. Jesus invites her. If he didn't care for her at all, he would have blown her off completely, but he doesn't do this. Rather, he invites her into a dialogue.
 

At first glance, Jesus is being cold and callous, indeed, illustrating the prevailing mindset that Jewish men would have toward such an outsider, outcast, and lesser human. He in effect tells her no. Because what he has to offer is for the House of Israel alone, God's chosen, those who will hear his teachings and his voice that Israel will be restored to God. Why would he waste his time on someone who doesn't share this faith? What is this woman really after? Is she really seeking out the Son of God, the Anointed One, to heal her daughter, or is she just desperate and looking for a quick fix? I don't know if Jesus was thinking this way, but obviously there was hesitation in Jesus' willingness to help this woman.
 

One of my favorite biblical commentators, David Lose shares that, "Perhaps, just perhaps, Jesus had not yet realized the full extent of God’s mission or the radical nature of the kingdom he proclaimed.
 

We may find this a somewhat uncomfortable conclusion to reach. We want to think of Jesus as full-bodied, perfect, and immutable from birth, right? But if we are to take Mark’s narrative seriously, never mind the incarnational and creedal affirmation that Jesus is fully human as well as fully divine, then perhaps we should not be surprised to see a development in Jesus’ own recognition of God’s vision for the world. After all, the profoundly expansive notion of a kingdom that included everyone – no exceptions! – was completely and totally novel. (And still is!)
 

If so – if we can imagine that this woman didn’t simply pass a clever test but instead, and as Jesus himself says, demonstrated profound faith – then we might acknowledge that this brave mother actually taught the Teacher something and, therefore, might have some things to teach us as well.
 

"Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs." Such a profound statement, I think, should teach us all something. It should teach us something about ourselves and our own faith, it should teach us something about the stranger and those in need, and it should certainly teach us something about God's grace and the great need all of us have for just a morsel of it.
 

We are surrounded by those who would beg for such grace and indeed as we come together in this beautiful, air conditioned church, seeking comfort in our lives, there are thousands out there right now, surely pleading to God and to whomever will listen, for just a little grace; just a little relief. "Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs."
 

The present Syrian refugee crisis is beyond anything we have witnessed since WWII. Images of fleeing families with no homes to return to; refugee camps filled with career venturing Syrian and other middle-eastern workers and professionals, driven out from violence and the fear of death to find new homes; to resettle. The images of fear-stricken families, hungry children, and yes, even the most heart-wrenching of all, the Turkish policeman carrying the lifeless body of a child washed up on the shore.
 

We know that the cries of the parents and families are filled with exasperation for just a crumb of God's goodness, a morsel of God's grace. The good news is that churches in our diocese are involved and helping with this crisis and that you will hear of ways that you can help as well.
 

Yes, even across an ocean, we are able to do something, and we should. In the meantime we pray. Right now, prayer is the most powerful weapon we have. May our prayers open our hearts and our lives to all those, who are in despair, like this brave outsider and mother that we about in Mark’s gospel.
 

"Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs."
 

If you've never read the book "The Ragamuffin Gospel" by Brennan Manning, I highly recommend it. The Ragamuffin Gospel is filled with stories of God's grace. Brennan recounts an old story about Fiorello LaGuardia, who was New York City mayor during the worst years of the Great Depression.
 

 

One night in January of 1935, the mayor turned up at a night court in the poorest ward of the city. LaGuardia dismissed the judge for the evening and took over the bench himself. Within a few minutes, a tattered old woman was brought before him, charged with stealing a loaf of bread. She told LaGuardia that her daughter's husband had deserted her, her daughter was sick, and her two grandchildren were starving. But the shopkeeper, from whom the bread was stolen, refused to drop the charges. "It's a bad neighborhood, your Honor, " the man told the mayor. "She's got to be punished to teach other people around here a lesson."
 

 

LaGuardia sighed. He turned to the woman and said "I've got to punish you. the law makes no exceptions - ten dollars or ten days in jail." But even as he pronounced sentence, the mayor was already reaching into his pocket. He extracted a bill and tossed it into his famous sombrero saying, "Here is the ten dollar fine which I now remit; and furthermore I am going to fine everyone in this courtroom fifty cents for living in a town where a person has to steal bread so that her grandchildren can eat. Mr. Bailiff, collect the fines and give them to the defendant."
 

 

So the following day the New York City newspapers reported that $47.50 was turned over to a bewildered old lady who had stolen a loaf of bread to feed her staving grandchildren, fifty cents of that amount being contributed be the red-faced grocery store owner, while some seventy petty criminals, people with traffic violations, and NYC policemen, each of whom had just paid fifty cents for the privilege of doing so, gave the mayor a standing ovation.
 

 

What an extraordinary moment of grace for anyone present in that courtroom! The grace of God operates at a profound level in the life of a loving person. Oh that we would recognize God's grace when it comes to us (Manning 91, 92)!
 

 

"Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs." Just a little of what Jesus offers, changes lives.
 

I repeat this statement that the Syrophoenician woman responded with to Jesus, because it is a statement of victory. As I said, Jesus may have seen an outsider in his midst, but he invited her into a conversation, literally an argument as rabbis commonly bantered, and she won the argument! This non-Jewish, non-male nobody, wins the argument with the great Teacher and Master and Jesus has no problem with it. Immediately her daughter is healed.
 

Jesus invites the least likely of all people into relationship with him and restores all people to God by his grace and favor. And we are called as well to invite the least likely of all people into this fellowship of believers. It is only when we open up our selves, both as individuals and as a congregation, to the other, are we the viable, healthy, robust people of God that Jesus calls us to be.
 

Elsewhere in Mark’s Gospel, Jesus says that only those who give away their lives will find it. I think that’s true both in our individual and congregational experience. And I think Jesus first learned just how true that is from this fiercely loving mother.
 

May we too recognize, celebrate, and give thanks for the extraordinary grace that God offers to us through Jesus…and the least likely through whom the Spirit chooses!

In These Holy Mysteries

I’ve started watching a new program on Sunday nights about the origins and workings of the universe entitled, “Cosmos: A Space-time Odyssey”. These are great mysteries—even for the Christian who believes that “God, the Father, the Almighty, maker of heaven and earth, of all that is, seen and unseen”, life’s origins and the beginning of the universe itself is, scientifically, a mystery, although there are very compelling theories that support an answer to these eternal questions. (Remember, a “theory” does not mean a shot-in-the-dark guess. A theory is scientific knowledge based heavily on gathered data. The theory of gravity, for example, is undisputed).

 

Besides the fact that the study of the universe and of the origins of life fascinates me, the program “Cosmos” is regarded by its host, Neil deGrasse Tyson, as a journey. A journey through space and time. In the program, Neil travels in a fictitious spacecraft called, the “Spaceship of the Imagination”, that can travel far beyond the solar system or shrink down so tiny as to enter the bloodstream of a black bear. The program really takes the viewer on a journey to explore the vastness, the intricacies and the mysteries of life.

 

One of the things that I love about being an Episcopalian—and there are myriad of reasons—is that we follow a liturgical year. We begin a new church year when secular society ends one each Advent. We ponder the mysteries of the Incarnation through the season of Christmas; followed by the observance of the Word made flesh dwelling among us, performing acts of love and works of mercy as God manifests God’s self in the person of Jesus Christ. We call this season Epiphany, meaning, “to manifest” or “to make known”. Then we enter the holy season of Lent, where we find ourselves now (Lent, meaning, the lengthening of days).

 

Lent is a well known season, even in secular circles. Many celebrate Mardi Gras, or Fat Tuesday, perhaps not always for the reason of beginning a fast, but nonetheless, there are many that do recognize the sooty smear of ashes on our foreheads on the Wednesday that begins the season. A server at a restaurant told me one Ash Wednesday that he always remembers it’s Ash Wednesday when he sees so many people come into his restaurant with a black smudge on their foreheads: “Ah, it must be that time of year again”, he says.

 

What I am describing to you is a journey. The liturgical year is a journey and so is the season of Lent in itself. It is a season that ‘bids us cleanse our hearts, and prepare with joy the Paschal feast” (Easter). Although there are facts along the way on our journey, there are still mysteries and unresolved accounts within the biblical narrative. For instance, if you recall the story of Nicodemus’ conversation with Jesus about being born again from above by water and the Spirit, Jesus shares the mystery of the Spirit as he says, “the wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes” (John 3:8). Or the mystery of the redemption of the world through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus: ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. ‘Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him’ (John 3:16-17). Life in the Spirit and the redemption of the world find their answers in the saving work of the Son, but they are ultimately, mysteries that we are called to live into as followers of the way of Jesus.

 

We are embarking once again on the holiest of journeys as we conclude the Lenten season, climax within the context of the Holy Week liturgies and remembrances, and die and birth in Christ once again through his death and resurrection on Easter morning. The journey has twists and turns, challenges and blessings, facts and mysteries; all that enrich our life in Christ and serve as opportunities for transformation. I strongly encourage you to make room in your life for the journey this year.

 

 

God bless you and keep you this holy season and always,

Bob+

 

Almighty and everliving God, in your tender love for the human race you sent your Son our Savior Jesus Christ to take upon him our nature, and to suffer death upon the cross, giving us the example of his great humility: Mercifully grant that we may walk in the way of his suffering, and also share in his resurrection; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. (BCP 219, Collect for Palm Sunday)

 

#mugglesermon

There are a variety of classes taught at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the school at which Harry Potter is an alumnus, including both core requirements and electives. Numerous lessons are offered that instruct students from wizarding families in various branches of magic. Among them are the Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Potions, Astronomy, History of Magic, Herbology, and Transfiguration, which are compulsory subjects for the first five years. At the end of their second year, students are required to add at least two optional subjects to their syllabus for the start of the third year. The five choices are Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Divination, Care of Magical Creatures, and Muggle Studies. Muggles are folks with no magical prowess. Hence, it is believed that Muggles can’t even see Hogwarts Castle; rather, they just see ruins, upon the unlikely event that a Muggle would even stumble across the castle’s location.

 

For purposes of today’s topic in the Church – today being the Last Sunday after the Epiphany, or the Feast of the Transfiguration – I’ll highlight the core requirement from Hogwarts, Transfiguration.

 

Transfiguration, at Hogwarts, is the art of changing the form or appearance of an object, and hence this is what this class teaches. Transfiguration is a theory-based subject, including topics such as “Switching Spells” (altering only a part of some object, such as giving a human rabbit’s ears); “Vanishing Spells” (causing an object to completely disappear); and “Conjuring Spells” (creating objects out of thin air). It is possible to change inanimate objects into animate ones and vice versa — Professor Minerva McGonagall, for instance, transfigures her desk into a pig.

 

Transfiguration in koiné Greek means literally, metamorphoomai, from which we get, metamorphosis. It is a physical change. It is literally a change in the form or appearance of an object. In the gospel reading from Matthew this morning, the disciples witness Jesus undergoing this metamorphoomai, this transfiguration. Although this was indeed an indescribable event that the disciples were witnessing, this theophany, this experience of the divine flatly in front of their faces, had to be dealt with. It was an experience that they would never forget.

 

What then are we to do when we experience moments in the presence of the divine in our lives? Like Peter, we may commend in ourselves that “it is good for us to be here” and set up camp and live in holy bliss forever. But we know that’s impossible. I think Peter knew it was impossible too, which is why I giggle a little bit to myself because of Peter’s true humanity, as one whose mouth speaks before his brain completes the thought: “if you wish, I will make three dwellings here.”

 

In my mid-twenties, I visited the Grand Canyon for the first time. If you have ever seen the magnificent view the Grand Canyon offers, you will surely never forget it. It is indescribable beauty, meaning, that one cannot express in words or in photograph as far as I am concerned, the awe of such a sight. It is larger than large, vaster than vast, and among the most beautiful views on earth. I wanted to experience this place first hand. I wanted to “get into it”. So I signed up for one of those canyon mule rides.

 

Now one must understand how steep the cliffs and slopes are on this canyon hike. As we descended into the canyon, and even back up on our return journey, I noticed that I was often leaning in the opposite direction of the cliff. There are no railings. There are no safety nets below. It’s a fun ride, but one that certainly keeps you very much wide awake – and in prayer!

 

They use mules because they are more sure-footed than horses, in other words, they are less likely to slip and fall hundreds of feet down the unforgiving slopes of the inner canyon. I remember trying to look at my mule’s expression as much as I could, and I wasn’t sure how concerned I should be at his – or her – unconcerned demeanor. I realize that this mule has done this trail walk several times, but her comfort level was much, much higher than mine. It was a good time to remain in prayer while on my mule-back hike.

 

Of course, the disciples and Jesus were not at the Grand Canyon, not at all. But they were up a mountain – Matthew is not specific as to the location. We’re not sure how high, but they were up high enough, “as they were coming down the mountain” during their conversation with Jesus, when he instructs them to “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”  The fear-ridden part had taken place, that is, the awe-inspiring vision the disciples witnessed of Jesus’ face shining like the sun and his clothes becoming dazzling white.  

 

The thing we must realize is that the Transfiguration has little to nothing to do with us, and everything to do with Jesus, who he is, and the power of God showered upon him. We are invited today to see a glimpse of Christ’s majesty and glory. We are then left with choices about how we will deal with this glimpse as we descend the holy vision atop the mountain and enter the valley and the holy season of Lent.

 

The story of the Transfiguration does a few things for us: It recalls for us the baptism of Jesus as we hear the voice of God once again say the same words, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with him I am well pleased;” except this time with an added command, “listen to him!” Jesus will instruct his friends of the cost of discipleship, and we are to listen.

 

The Transfiguration recalls and confirms Peter’s confession. Although he was still thinking in human categories, he had a firmer understanding now of Jesus’ identity.

 

The Transfiguration story connects the confession of Jesus as Son of God and his identification as the Son of Man who suffers, is killed, and is vindicated by God and will appear again as judge.

 

And the Transfiguration story foretells the events of the resurrection and second coming of Jesus, giving the reader and hearer through the eyes of the disciples a glimpse of the glory of Jesus, before he descends the mountain and makes his way to Jerusalem, to the cross.

 

The story of the Transfiguration affirms that we are to understand the narrative of the life of Jesus through the lens of the resurrection; the vantage point from which the story of the gospel is told. (Some have theorized that this story is a “displaced resurrection story”.)

 

So what now are we to do? Maybe we should recall from the very gospel passage itself what we are not to do: Jesus came and touched [his disciples], saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” After seeing the dazzling white clothes, the appearance of Moses and Elijah, the thunderous voice from heaven, is it no wonder that the disciples fainted to the ground in fear?

 

Biblical commentator David Lose points out, “Think about it. These words -- “do not be afraid” -- are the hallmark of the Gospel, as throughout Old and New Testaments they signal the coming rescue of God and consequent courage that promise creates. They are the words with which the angel Gabriel greets Mary in the quiet of her home and with which the heavenly host addresses the shepherds as they keep watch by night. And, perhaps more importantly in relation to this passage, they are the words the angel of the Lord uses at the end of this story when he encourages the women who came seeking Jesus in the tomb.”

 

These wonderfully powerful words should encourage us as we come to witness the grace that God offers as he then sends us out into the world, going forth in the name of Christ. Lose goes on to say that Jesus doesn’t just say, “get up,” he’s saying, “be raised,” as this is the same word used, again by the angel, to describe Jesus’ resurrection. Listen to the latter part of the story again: the voice from heaven affirms Jesus’ identity as the beloved Son and commands Peter and company to listen to him -- that is, hear his words, follow his commands, be obedient to his summons. In response, they fall to the ground in terror. And then Jesus reaches out and commands them, literally, to be raised and no longer fear.”

 

As we all understand, this story is far from a holy magic trick – and us Muggles can see this and at the same time be comforted and empowered by this story. We have been given a glimpse once again of the glory of God made manifest in Jesus Christ. It is awe-inspiring. And it can seem intimidating as well. But like being seated on a very sure-footed mule as we descend the mountain, we can without fear proclaim Jesus as the Savior of the world and Son of the living God, the Beloved. It is to this reality that he calls us. It is to true discipleship that he calls us. “Get up and do not be afraid.”

Called to be righteous...again.

Most of the news I watch is the early morning news, usually the Today show. Karla and I try to remember to set the cable box to Local 2 the night before so in the morning we can reverse the DVR back an hour or so to skip through the commercials. Whatever morning news you watch – unless you are at work by 6 in the morning, and I have learned recently that there are many of you out there – you will find that the amount of commercials aired on these programs is by minimum standards, plenteous; annoyingly plenteous.
 

Last week on the Today show, Mark Zuckerberg, founder of Facebook, was being interviewed by Savannah Guthrie as the tenth anniversary of the social networking site dawns this year. When asked about Facebook’s success, he replied that he has helped millions of people connect to others. Zuckerberg said, “To be able to come into work every day and build things that help a billion people stay connected with the people they care about every month, that’s just unbelievable, I mean, you get to build things here that touch a billion people.”

I found the language that Zuckerberg used particularly interesting. He used words like “help people” and “touch people”. These words evoke some emotion. Although there was language in this interview that described Facebook as a corporate, for-profit entity, he also used language that pointed to something greater than that. That greater something is a component of our humanity that we all share: the desire to be in relationship.

 

The gospel lesson for Sunday, February 16 is yet another challenging lesson for us by Jesus. He brings up the law again. There seems to be a message of “do this and get that” in Jesus’ words. But Jesus, I think, has no interest in our punishment for breaking laws; rather, Jesus is interested in our knowledge of God’s love for us and our lives being filled with the grace of God. There is a deeper meaning behind Mark Zuckerberg’s words about the public’s use of Facebook. Likewise, there is a deeper meaning behind Jesus’ words about the law. (No, I am not comparing Mark Zuckerberg to Jesus! But they do both beckon us into relationship; the motives differing.)

Christians, especially in modern times, have not done a very good job at conveying Jesus’ message about right living very well. What if I told you that there is more that Jesus cares about than whether or not we break a law? What does the average non-churchgoer think of when they are asked what God is or who Jesus is? Many out there, and perhaps many church-going Christians for that matter, may imagine God to be the old man with a white beard, sitting on a throne, watching us, judging us, and keeping score on all the good and bad we do; perhaps a little like the old Christmas jingle about Santa Claus making his list and checking it twice. If we imagine God as merely a dictating authority figure in our lives and the lives of others, we run the great risk of missing out on the grace that God promises and indeed pours upon us continually.

As one reads through Matthew’s gospel, you begin to identify a recurring theme where it becomes apparent that Matthew is very interested in right behavior. Today’s lesson is certainly within this theme. Today, we are called to righteousness…again. And not only righteousness, but Jesus is even challenging us to be perfect. If you remember last week’s gospel lesson, Matthew does just this. Jesus says, “For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

 

 

How, we might ask, is this possible? And furthermore, how on earth would this expectation even begin to attract someone to be a follower of Jesus? How can anyone’s righteousness exceed the righteousness of those who have studied the law and have interpreted it for the people? This statement is like telling congregations that their righteousness must exceed that of their Bishops; or for Episcopalians, their founding members—or founding rector! It’s hard to imagine that those who heard Jesus’ words, among whom were ordinary fishermen and women would have taken any comfort in such high standards.

 

 

But let’s be careful not to soften Jesus’ words. I think Jesus does hold us to a higher standard. I think Jesus does want us to be exceptionally righteous, that is, virtuous. But perhaps there is more to what Jesus is saying. Perhaps Jesus is illustrating to us what the kingdom of God is like. Jesus, who is the human embodiment of the living God, is teaching a critical lesson on what it means to be a member of God’s community.

 

 

Jesus presents six antitheses (or contrasts) that further illustrate that obedience must become internal if it is to bring genuine life. He refers to traditional teachings that are understood to be true and then goes on to deepen and extend their meanings. He says, “You have heard that it was said ... but I say to you.” Jesus has already proclaimed that he came to fulfill the law and the prophets. Thus no commandment of the law is abolished by these teachings, as Jesus instructs his disciples to not only observe the law, but also realize and adhere to its spirit and intention. In each case, he probes beyond the act that was prohibited to identify its root cause.

 

 

Jesus’ strong language today reminds us of what is really important to God: our relationships. Not only our relationship with God, but with each other. David Lose calls God a “relational God”. How else do we proclaim and live out our faith than to treat others as we would like to be treated? We can see evidence of God’s desire for us to live in peaceful relationships as we ourselves come to gather together. Social media even provides some evidence, as millions upon millions seek to be connected with others. Not that social media is in and of itself godly, but it does point to something about us and our human desire, that is, to be connected and to be in relationship.

 

 

Mark Zuckerberg wants us to continue to be in relationship and stay connected because it affects his bottom line. So he uses words like “help”, “serve”, “care”, and “touch”. These words may evoke a warm feeling in us. Businesses realize what humans care about and they use words and phrases to attract us to win our loyalty. But we must be careful of who wins our loyalty.

 
 

It is no wonder then, that Jesus calls us to a higher standard. No, there was no Facebook or Twitter, or any social media in Jesus’ day – heck, there wasn’t social media ten years ago (well, remember chat rooms)! But there have always been distractions that seek to win our loyalty and turn us away from where our loyalties should be. Jesus gives us a gift in his words to us and to those fishermen and women disciples of his. And his gift is for us today as well. The gift of God’s kingdom, of God’s community, and as our Presiding Bishop would say, of God’s “dream” for us.

 

 

Hence, as David Lose illustrates in his writing on this gospel, “to confess that our relationships matter to God is to reinterpret the law in a way that is more faithful to this passage and the larger biblical witness about the nature and purpose of God’s commands. As to this passage: notice that each of these different injunctions concerns how we treat each other. Jesus doesn’t just heighten the force of the law, he broadens it:

• It’s not enough just to refrain from murder. We should also treat each other with respect and that means not speaking hateful words.
• It is not enough to avoid physically committing adultery. We should also not objectify other persons by seeing them as a means to satisfy our physical desires by lusting after them.
• It is not enough to follow the letter of the law regarding divorce. We should not treat people as disposable and should make sure that the most vulnerable -- in this culture that often meant women and children -- are provided for.
• It is not enough to keep ourselves from swearing falsely or lying to others. We should speak and act truthfully in all of our dealings so that we don’t need to make oaths at all.”

“All the hyperbole”, he adds, “of cutting off body parts and burning in hell serve to magnify just how important our relationships are to God.”

 

 

Now, I want you to do something. I give you another interactive sermon today. I want you to call to mind one of the relationships in your life that is most important to you; one that is healthy and whole and good and sustains you (Jeopardy music?). Now, think about what makes that a good relationship, about why it’s so important to you. Now, I want you to give God thanks for that person and the relationship you share with them.

 

 

Now I want you to call to mind another relationship that is important, but has suffered some damage. This may be a little more challenging. You don’t need to figure out who was to blame for the hurt, but just hold that person and relationship in prayer. Offer that broken relationship to God as an offering and as an invitation of God’s healing.

 

Let us pray.

 

Lord, make us instruments of your peace. Where there is hatred, let us sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, union; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. Grant that we may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen (Prayer of St. Francis, BCP 833).
 

I love what Karla Works writes on this topic from workingpreacher.org: “Jesus wants his disciples to be people of integrity, people who are faithful to their promises, people who have no need to swear that they are telling the truth because they are truth-tellers. They should be people who honor their commitments in marriage and who respect the commitments of others. The women in their midst are not people to be used and abandoned at will, but fellow disciples. They are among the ones who are now blessed by God’s reign. For the church to claim Jesus’ message of God’s kingdom come, it must strive to be the kind of place that reflects God’s reign.”

 

I think I’ll leave it there. Amen.

We are light

The storyline, which is based on a true story, takes place between 1992 and 1995, beginning with scenes from the 1992 Los Angeles Riots. Hilary Swank, in the movie Freedom Writers, plays the role of Erin Gruwell, a new, excited schoolteacher who leaves the safety of her hometown to teach at Woodrow Wilson High School in Long Beach, a formerly high achieving school which has recently had an integration program put in place. Her enthusiasm is quickly challenged when she realizes that her class is made up of all “at-risk” students, thought of by some as “un-teachables”, but not the eager students she was expecting. The students segregate themselves into racial groups in the classroom, fights break out, and eventually most of the students stop turning up to class. Not only does Mrs. Gruwell meet opposition from her students, but she also has a hard time with her department head, who refuses to let her teach her students with books lest they get damaged and lost, and instead tells her to focus on teaching them discipline and obedience.

 

But Mrs. Gruwell has no idea of the kind of students she is really dealing with. They tell her that they have no respect for her, that they don’t trust her, mostly because she is not like them – she is white and she shares this trait with only one other boy in the class. The class is made up mostly of Latinos, Cambodian, and Black students. Despite choosing the school on purpose because of its integration program, Erin is unprepared for the nature of her classroom, whose students live by generations of strict moral codes of protecting their own at all cost. Many are in gangs and almost all know somebody that has been killed by gang violence. The Latinos hate the Cambodians who hate the blacks and so on. The only person the students hate more is Mrs. Gruwell. It isn't until Erin holds an unsanctioned discussion about a recent drive-by shooting death that she fully begins to understand what she’s up against. And it isn’t until she provides an assignment of writing a daily journal - which will not be graded, and will remain unread by her unless they give her permission - that the students begin to open up to her.*

 

Erin realizes that her students have encountered, either first-hand, second-hand, or with explicit knowledge, gang initiation. Young children enduring beatings, engaging in criminal activity, and other types of hazing is what makes them part of their new family. After gang initiation they are different people, belonging to a new family, a new way of life; a way of life that demands loyalty to their own kind, even if it means covering up felonious crimes such as robbery or murder.

 

One day during class, Mrs. Gruwell intercepts a racist drawing of one of her students and uses it to teach them about the Holocaust. She taught them that in Nazi Germany they would post pictures and posters of Jews with disfigured faces so that the evil regime could convince German citizens that Jews are less human than non-Jews. Miraculously having the classroom silenced as a result of this history lesson, one student raised his hand, asking, “What’s the Holocaust?” The next year comes, and Gruwell teaches her class again for their sophomore year. She invites several Holocaust survivors to talk with her class about their experiences, then takes them on a field trip to the Simon Wiesenthal Museum of Tolerance in Los Angeles.

 

A transformation begins to take place in Erin Gruwells’ class. The students begin to experience a different kind of initiation. An initiation of compassion for others, borne from the reality that these kids realize they are not the only ones who suffer; that there is fear, violence, and degradation in all corners of the world. Erin was teaching her students that they need to overcome this, by understanding that their lives do not have to be controlled by anger, violence, or even the imprisonment of gang affiliation. Mrs. Gruwell was initiating them in a new way, into a new life and a new reality.

 

In class, after she had the students read The Diary of Anne Frank, they invite Miep Gies, the woman who sheltered Anne Frank from the German soldiers, to come talk to them. She tells them her experiences hiding Anne Frank. When one student tells her that she is his hero, she denies it, claiming she was merely doing the right thing. She told him – and all the other students gathered – “that she is not a hero, rather they, the students, are the heroes. And even an ordinary secretary or a housewife or a teenager can, within their own small ways, turn on a small light in a dark room.”

 

Today is one of the Church’s designated days to celebrate the sacrament of Holy Baptism, because it is the day that we celebrate the very Baptism of our Lord Jesus Christ. Holy Baptism is the initiation into Christ’s Body, the Church.

 

In this celebration, we are called once again, with God’s help, to turn away from all those things that draw us from the love of God. Today we remember our own baptism, remind ourselves of that Baptismal Covenant when we promise to follow Jesus and obey him as our Lord. Baptism is our entrance into the new life of grace. Baptism is a death, actually. It is a death of our former selves; the self that we had before we embraced God. Through the waters of baptism we die to that self, we embrace God and promise to follow him, trust in him, and to continue in the historic traditions of the church where we share the Eucharistic feast in Christ’s body and blood, proclaim the apostolic teaching through the creeds, and promise to love God and love our neighbors as he loves us. And it is the grace of God through this sacrament that enables us to do these things.

 

Initiations into fraternities, sororities, or gangs are intended to give people a new identity by initiating them into a new community. There are initiations in thousands of ways, including initiations into corporate culture and even the church. But there is only one initiation that changes our lives from the inside out, that begins a lifelong process of transformation. And this initiation of new birth and indeed of new life is Baptism in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. It is a different kind of initiation. Like Mrs. Gruwell’s multi-year long journey with her students, transformation of our hearts to be “lights in a dark room” is a process that we grow into. This process takes our hearts and souls and transforms them into the grace-filled lives that God confers on us in this Holy Sacrament.

 

A transformation began to take place in the lives of the students in Mrs. Gruwell’s class. And this transformation included something these kids didn’t realize – their former selves were dying. The light that began to grow in their hearts was overpowering the darkness that had taken hold of them: the darkness of violence, segregation and fear. They began to see each other and others as people. Dare I say, they began to strive for justice and peace among others, and respect the dignity of other human beings.

It is at this point for us that the significance of baptism becomes clear. It is not merely a religious rite; it is a death. As Roy Harrisville says, “It is a death of the old Adam and Eve who are crucified together in Christ. In this death, we the baptized are proclaimed children of God and transformed into offspring who may see through such death to the rising of new life in resurrection.”

 

In baptism, we are proclaimed children of God, and God’s beloved. In our tradition, we usually receive the baptism of Jesus as a child, before there is any need of repentance. The Good News is that no matter what, no matter whom, we can be baptized in the name of God, and know we are the beloved of God, and that Jesus is our truth and will empower our lives. We are the beloved of God before, during, and after repentance. The baptism of Jesus was God’s Revelation of that Good News, and our baptism is the sign that that Good News is for us, too. And we claim it for ourselves and for our children.

To be the Beloved of God. What an awesome Gift. What an incredible knowledge. What a welcome call—to live out our lives as the Beloved of God.

Thus today there are those who begin their lives as a Christian by water and the word. It is a new and different kind of initiation. The kind that confers grace upon our lives that we might be lights in the dark places in the world as we are bonded to the Light of the world in our baptism. Like Miep Gies told the students at Wilson High School, ‘within your own small way, you can turn on a small light in a dark room.”

Just as it was so in the beginning of creation when a wind from God swept over the waters and when God spoke the whole world began. God still speaks and a new world springs forth. And in each generation, God makes the church, calling by water and the word a new people into being. This we celebrate today. We are his children. We are heirs of the kingdom. We are beloved.

 

*From the synopsis page at www.imbd.com