Last Sunday after the Epiphany Yr C Feb 27 2022

Last Sunday after the Epiphany Yr C Feb 27 2022

Exodus 34:29-35, 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2, Luke 9:28-36, Psalm 99

 

They saw Jesus in his glory and the two men standing with him, Moses and Elijah. And later, after Jesus ordered the vile spirit gone from the young boy and handed him back to his father, they all shook their heads in wonder, astonished at God’s greatness, God’s majestic greatness. Two stories, one on the mountaintop, one down on the ground, two stories in which people experience God’s greatness and God’s glory, two stories that show us who Jesus is. This is my son, my chosen; listen to him!

But you and I live our lives somewhere in between these two stories. We don’t live on the mountaintop of glory, and we don’t live in the valley of suffering, we live on the plains and the prairies, around the corn fields. And as we know, the plains and the prairies, the corn fields, have their own kind of beauty, a kind of beauty that you make friends with, a kind of beauty that you grow to love, a kind of beauty that transforms you. Sometimes the beauty of the land is not self-evident, sometimes the appreciation of the beauty of the land is acquired. Some would even think me crazy to speak of the beauty of these rolling fields and the great plains, those who live in great cities, those who live in great mountains or great deserts. I like to visit mountains and deserts, but I love the quiet beauty of these rolling hills, even when others think this is fly over country.

We live our lives in the in between, we live our lives in the ordinary, not on the mountaintop of ecstasy, not in the valley of suffering. We do live our lives in the flatland of the world. And, we are easily seduced by the world into believing that what we see is all we get. We work and we play, and we go to school, and sometimes we are seduced into believing that the marketplace is all that is important. We begin to believe that life and happiness is about making money, having success, owning lots of things, living in a big house. Sometimes we even begin to think that life is all about us, and eventually we may even begin to believe that being successful is more important than being faithful, that having many and beautiful things is more important than having a meaningful relationship with the people in our lives and with God. And then we become convinced  that this is the flatland, it is a place that cannot have meaning, and it is a place that carries no joy, no truth.

But we are called to live on the plains and the prairies, where the sunrises and sunsets are glorious, but unless we spend the time and make the space to really see them, we only see the flatland of the interstates. But this is what transfiguration is about, seeing with new eyes. The word transfigured is an interesting word. The Greek word is metamorpho, and it means to transform, kind of like the metamorphosis that happens when a caterpillar is transformed into a butterfly. The word is a verb that means to change into another form. Used in this way in the gospel, it means to match the outside with the reality of the inside. The inside reality of Jesus is being God’s son; in this story the outside reality is glory. This is what our gospel is about today. Matching the glory on the outside with the reality of the inside.

So what is our reality? The reality is that we are God’s beloved, and we are marked as Christ’s own forever. As I say it, it seems easy, on the mountaintop it seems obvious and clear, and yet the message in the flatland of the world is so very different. In the flatland, our worth is measured by our job, how much money we make, who we know, what we can get, what our house looks like. We are scared into believing that we are not good enough, so we must buy a particular kind of clothing, and lotion, and diet supplements, to be adequate. We have to be young, sexy, thin. We have to be fixed if our bodies are not perfect. We have to erect fences around us and rules to keep others out. But none of this is real.

What is real is that we are loved absolutely, abundantly and unconditionally by the God who is among us, walking by our side, holding our hand when we need our hand held, carrying us when we can no longer walk, being with us in the mess that is often our lives, suffering and dying so that death does not have the last word, so that death does not win. What is real is that God shows us this love in the midst of the glory, and in the midst of the suffering.

It is on the plains and the prairies of our lives that we are transformed, where the metamorphosis happens. It is on the plains and prairies of our lives where Jesus walks with us and shows us the way, where what Jesus does in his life and in his suffering and on the cross matter. Peter wanted to immortalize Jesus’ transfiguration along with Moses and Elijah with three dwellings; he wanted to enshrine the experience. He soon realized that’s not what transformation was about, he soon realized that transformation was about who you are and what you do all the rest of the time, on the plains.

Spiritual practice and moral discipline are a thankful expression of our transformation; they are our response to being transformed. We are in the world as God’s new creations. Spiritual practice and moral discipline are also an opportunity to see and hear God more clearly. Traditionally those who follow Jesus have given something up for Lent. You know, you give up chocolate or you fast or you give up something that you are used to doing. Now the idea is not to beat yourself up and it’s not to lose ten pounds. The idea is to create space in a crazy, busy life, so that we can see and hear God. We are to get rid of the rubble and the refuse so that our sightlines are clear, and that takes some giving up of stuff whatever the stuff is of our lives. And more importantly it calls us to do something very positive.

I invite you to create space in your crazy busy life. I invite you to do something positive. There are many opportunities for you here at Trinity. Morning Prayer four times each week, Wednesday night soup supper and program, Friday morning bible study, Sunday morning education and coffee hour. I invite you to create space in your crazy busy life, to open your eyes and see the beauty of the ordinary, the beauty of the plains, the breath of God on the prairie, the Spirit rolling in the fields.

 

It is on the plains that we live as the new creations, it is in the very ordinariness of our lives that we live in the freedom that is the promise of resurrection and new life. Jesus’ transfiguration and our transformation are the birth of spiritual and moral discipline for us. Spiritual practices help us develop new holy habits; new ways of seeing the world and what God is doing in the midst of it. What we really hunger for, what we really yearn for, what we really want as people of faith, is transfiguration, transformation of our very cores, and that comes from God, not from the world.

 

We begin on Wednesday with the ashes that remind us that we are loved, the ashes that remind us of who and whose we are. We begin with the ashes that remind us that we are mortal, and none of us get out of this life alive. We begin on our knees, so that we may rise again, transfigured, into God’s image. 

Seventh Sunday after the Epiphany Yr C Feb 20 2022

Seventh Sunday after the Epiphany Yr C Feb 20 2022

Genesis 45:3-11, 15, 1 Corinthians 15:35-38,42-50, Luke 6:27-38, Psalm 37:1-12, 41-42

 

The kingdom that Jesus preached and lived was all about a glorious, uproarious, absurd, generosity. Think about the best thing you can do for the worst person and go ahead and do it. That’s what this continuation of the Sermon on the Plain is all about. We remember what comes immediately before the passage we just heard, we call that the Beatitudes, and we heard all about that last week. This continues Jesus painting the picture of what God’s absurdly abundant love looks like.

 

The trouble in the text is that it can’t be true. Love your enemies? Do good to people who hate you? Bless people who curse you? Pray for people who treat you badly? If someone hits you on the cheek offer him the other cheek? If someone takes away your coat don’t stop them from taking your shirt?

 

That is not the way the world works. That is not the way business works, or government. And why would we want it to be that way anyway. Who cares about enemies, who cares about people who hate you, or give you a raw deal, or curse you. Who cares about the people who treat you badly, you want them out of your life! Who cares? This is the cause and effect world we live in. Love deserves love, hate deserves hate, deeds both good and bad should be repaid in kind, force must be returned with force, violence begets violence, and so on and so on. It seems that many people are involved in the unholy work of ripping and shredding our social fabric, through dehumanizing language, racial prejudice, misogyny, and exclusion. Sound bites lead news stories that heap judgment upon judgment, and unless we question, research, and educate ourselves, we are lead to believe that what we read is all fake news and conspiracy anyway. 

 

But the kingdom that Jesus preached and lived was all about a glorious, uproarious, absurd, generosity. That is the good news that we hear in Luke, even though it makes no sense. Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Do to others as you would have them do to you.

 

Is this a command or a promise? If it’s a command then it is just one more thing someone has told us and that we’ll be held accountable for and then we’ll likely continue to live in fear and, while we may behave a little better for a time, at least when someone’s watching, ultimately we will be no different.

 

But if it’s a promise, then we might just imagine that there is another way, a way of love, available to us at this very moment, and see each other as gifts of God and experience the transformation Jesus offers. I believe this is the case, and that other world, that kingdom, that way of love, is right here in front of us, right here for us to participate in.

 

Because Love itself, when you think about it, makes no sense in a kind of mechanistic view of the universe, or a transactional way to interact. For love, defined most simply, is seeking the good of another above your own. Love is not a means to an end, it is an end unto itself which, in turn, creates morality and justice and all the rest of the things we strive for yet fail to find or manifest without love. Love is not about how you feel, it is about what you do.

 

So what we do is about the holy work of love. And this kind of work is about building relationships. If people in our community and in our neighborhood are about the unholy work of ripping and shredding our social fabric through dehumanizing language, racial prejudice, misogyny, and exclusion, then we must be about the holy work of building relationships.

 

And the good news is that is possible because of God’s absurdly abundant love. It is possible because each and every one of us is created in God’s image, each and every one of us has the mark of God’s love upon us. Even those who don’t know it; even those who would not do to others as you would have them do to you. The holy work of love is possible because Jesus is showing us how. Do not judge. Forgive.

 

And ultimately the place where Jesus shows us about judging and forgiving is on the cross. Jesus says from the cross, forgive them, they do not know what they are doing. It is in that horrifying moment, it is in that place of death, that love wins.

 

I am reminded of the story of Ruby Bridges. In 1960, young Ruby was six years old, and one of the first children to be bused to an all white school to begin the process of integrating people whose skin colors were different. Ruby was called names, and some wanted to hurt her. Ruby was accompanied by federal marshals to protect her. She would stop on her way to school and on her way home each day to pray, “Please, God, try to forgive those people. Because even if they say those bad things, they don’t know what they’re doing. So you could forgive them. Just like you did those folks a long time ago when they said terrible things about you.”

 

The kingdom that Jesus preached and lived and died for is all about a glorious, uproarious, absurd, generosity. A generosity that includes all who are created in God’s image, all of God’s beloveds. An absurdly abundant love that includes all and forgives all, loves all. Let us pray it is so. Amen.

Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany Yr C Feb 6 2022

Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany Yr C Feb 6 2022

Isaiah 6:1-8, [9-13], 1 Corinthians 15:1-11, Luke 5:1-11, Psalm 138

 

My dad loved to fish. I remember being very small out in the boat with him holding my fishing pole. I don’t remember catching anything, which I think was a good thing because I really didn’t like the worms or the fish. But I’d sit with him in the boat, for hours. Years later my dad finally built his lake cabin, out of concrete blocks of course, because he was a block layer, and he loved fishing in the summer and ice fishing in the winter. In his later years it was catch and release, but I don’t recall too many fish either way. For my dad, fishin was always more about recognizing the wonder of the lake, the cool breeze in the summer, the amazing trees forming the cathedral that is the shore of the lake, and the eerie and beautiful call of the loon.

 

This fishing story we hear today is about that same kind of recognition and amazement, as much as it is about fish. I think it is about recognizing Jesus and then following. The setting is out beside the lake, where there was a huge crowd that had gathered to listen to Jesus teach, it was such a huge crowd it was pressing in on him. It’s in the morning, the fisherman had come in for the day, after having fished all night, that’s the way fishermen did it on the lake of Gennesaret, they could get their biggest catch in the night. They were cleaning up, washing and repairing their nets. Jesus needed some relief from the crowds, so he asked Simon Peter if he could get into one of the boats and do some teaching from out in the water. When he was finished teaching, he told Simon Peter, the captain of the fishing boat, to put out into deep water and let down his nets.

 

This is where the story gets funny. Jesus, who is the son of a carpenter, and who we assume to be a carpenter himself, is telling Simon, a well-seasoned fishing boat captain, how to do his job. Jesus is like a city boy telling a farmer how to farm. Jesus is absolutely out of his element; he has no fishing credentials. You can hear Simon rolling his eyes as he tells Jesus that they had been out all night and hadn’t caught anything. And you may hear the sarcasm in his voice as he says, “well, if you say so.” Simon conceded and put the nets out one more time. And when they put their nets out, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break. And then, Simon, the fishing boat captain, the big fish if you will, drops down at Jesus’ knees, and confesses, right there in front of his whole crew, he acknowledges Jesus as Lord. And everyone was amazed.

 

And Jesus tells those fisherpeople not to be afraid, from now on they will be fishing for people, not fish. How stupid is that. Fishing for people sure won’t pay the bills. So what is this story about? It’s not about how to pay the bills. Simon, James and John, and all the others left the catch of their lives, what they caught that morning probably would have kept them all in food, clothes, and new sandals for the foreseeable future.

 

Simon recognized that day something amazing. He recognized Jesus. Simon Peter recognized Jesus and was willing to leave life as he knew it, life that was probably not cushy, but comfortable, for something that was completely unknown, for something that would scare him to death.

 

Jesus introduced to them that day a new way, a new economy if you will. So what does that have to do with us, we’re not fisher people.

 

You see, we live in an absurdly abundant world. A world where worldly success rests in our power to choose and our power to get. Our world is about an economy of getting, having, possessing. But Jesus’ economy costs us everything. After an absurdly abundant catch that Simon, James and John and the others made that day, what on earth would make them pull their fishing boats up on the beach, leave them with all those fish still in them, and follow this prophet, this Jesus, the one who ate with sinners and women, the one who healed anyone, Jews and Greeks alike, the one who would be tortured and put to death. Wouldn’t they say, wouldn’t you say, do it again? Just do it again Jesus, we can all be rich. Or maybe they would say, no Jesus, we got work to do. But instead, Simon recognizes Jesus, and falls on his knees. And Jesus responds to Simon and the rest with the call to bring in people, not fish. In the midst of the abundance, in the midst of this the wealth right there in their boats, they turn to follow Jesus and the new economy that he has for them.

 

What on earth would make anyone of us say yes to Jesus’ call of a new life, a new economy? In the midst of the absurdly abundant life many of us live, how do we recognize Jesus in our midst, how do we follow Jesus? People who recognize Jesus are not necessarily holy people, just ordinary people, we are ordinary fisher people and wives and mothers, fathers and children, youth and elders.

 

Recognizing Jesus in our midst is the call to be fishers of people. Recognizing Jesus is recognizing the truth that God loves us so much, God came into this world as one of us, so that we may love God and one another. God’s love is absurdly abundant. God’s love washes over us, as do the waters of baptism. God’s love nourishes us, as does the bread we break each time we meet together. God’s love is absurdly abundant, as the fish that were caught that day in the boat. How can we not be fishers of people, how can we not spread the Good News, when we know this truth.

 

But following Jesus is costly. Following Jesus has always been costly, and continues to be costly these days. Following Jesus means we stand up for inclusion. It means we work hard at listening to our stories and our history with open ears and open minds, that’ll get you into trouble. Following Jesus means we stand up for each and every one of God’s creation, and we tell the truth about our own complicity in racism and genderism, and that’ll get you into trouble. Following Jesus means we increase our sphere of influence and advocate for access to health care and fair paying jobs, and that’ll get you into trouble. 

 

Following Jesus is to speak, and live, and behave in ways that Jesus in our midst is evident. It is to be with the other, as grace and gift and wonder.

 

It is to go to the grocery store and give thanks for the opportunity to choose, and it is to choose to fill others as well as ourselves. It is to give thanks for the opportunity to be able to afford to buy food, and it is to advocate for those who cannot.

 

It is to go shopping and give thanks for the opportunity to choose, and it is to give a pair of shoes away for each pair of shoes we have sitting in our closets. It is to work for fair wages for those who make shoes.

 

It is to give thanks for the opportunity to learn each day, to go to school or work each day, and it is to approach those who are different than us with love and respect, with open arms and open hearts. We live in an absurdly abundant world. Thanks be to God.