Last Sunday after the Epiphany Yr C March 2 2025 St. M and M

Last Sunday after the Epiphany Yr C March 2 2025 St. M and M

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

When I read the story from Exodus, it’s hard to keep the image of Charlton Heston in The Ten Commandments out of my head. When I read the story from Luke of Jesus turning dazzling white with Elijah and Moses appearing at his sides speaking with him, it’s hard to keep the image from Star Wars out of my mind, when at the end Obi Wan Kenobi, the transformed Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker, and Yoda all appear in some sort of dazzling array of wisdom. There is some dazzling display in this story we call the transfiguration, but if that’s all there is, we miss the point. There is glory indeed, but there’s a whole lot more going on as well.

The newer translation of this story in the New Revised Standard Updated Edition, replaces “they appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure”, with “they appeared in glory and were speaking about his exodus, which he was about to fulfill in Jerusalem.” This seemingly small change in word usage becomes very important as it calls to our minds Moses leading his people from the wilderness to the promised land, from wandering to freedom, from enslavement to liberation. Because that is exactly what God is doing in Jesus, and it terrifies the disciples.

What happened on this mount of transfiguration is that God shows Godself in no uncertain terms in and through Jesus. If Peter, James and John, or you or me, had any doubts about who Jesus is, doubt no longer. Not only is Jesus’ visage changed, Jesus is also clearly accompanied by Moses and Elijah, the two pre-eminent Jewish prophets. Again we are reminded of Moses coming off the mountaintop and the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God. The story of the transfiguration intentionally calls that story to mind, to show us that Jesus is in the line of these prophets, and to tell us that this is God’s son, we are to listen.

And, this story of transfiguration is bookended by Incarnation, God taking on our skin, in the beginning of the gospel, and by the last supper, later in the gospel. These stories show us what God’s inbreaking kingdom looks like. Luke makes sure we know the glorious event of Jesus’ birth. The angels, and the shepherds announce Jesus’ arrival. The star in the sky even points the way for the wise people. Jesus, God’s son, is now present, pay attention. 

Peter, wonderful Peter, wants to make it all permanent. He wants to build a tent and keep the moment alive. But you see, if we stay in that moment, and we yearn to be there, we miss God now. God reveals Godself in this transfiguration, and Jesus finds us in the ordinary moments. The ordinary stable, the ordinary bread, the ordinary wine. Pay attention, or you’ll miss it. Expect God in the ordinary, expect Jesus in the people you meet, expect the Holy Spirit in the wind and the rain. Expect the still small voice. Each day we are transfigured. Change is a constant presence in our everyday life.

Something extraordinary is happening here, God is breaking into time, and it changes us, it transfigures and transforms us. It may even change the world. It is that extraordinary experience that we must bear witness to. There is no staying on that mountain, Peter and James and John went back down the mountain, utterly changed. We too, accompany them down the mountain, and bear witness to God’s extraordinary shining.

And all of those experiences, the extraordinary and the ordinary, inspire us to respond to the needs of God’s beloved people with renewed energy, confidence, and determination. God’s glory, Jesus’ presence really begins to matter when we pay attention to the times and people where we can really make a difference. Instead of erecting tents on the mountaintop, we can carry that glory of Jesus into the neighborhood, and make a difference in ordinary lives, with ordinary things, food, water, shelter.

The glory that is shone forth in this story of transfiguration is a touchstone. We may return to it, but we can’t control it, and that can be rather disquieting, actually terrifying as reported in this story. We come to worship and sing God’s praises; we come to find stability in an unstable world. We come to hear the story of our faith that has not changed over time. And yet God’s word and our worship are not comfortable, they are not static. God’s word and our worship are growing and changing, becoming the creation that God has intended for it. 

The glory that is shone forth should cause us to be terrified, as in filled with awe - or awful - to go down the mountain and to do what Jesus calls us to do, to pay attention and do what’s right, love your neighbor. The glory that is shone forth in this story of transfiguration pushes us out into the world so that we may get going with God’s mission in this world. God’s mission is not about preserving the status quo; God’s mission is not about sitting in these chairs. God’s mission is not defending the tradition; God’s mission is not doing things the way they’ve always been done. God’s mission is not putting Moses, Elijah, and Jesus in a box or under a tent. God’s mission is of healing and reconciliation. God’s mission is about putting fractured souls back together in this broken and fragmented world. God’s mission is about loving and serving your neighbor, especially when we don’t feel like it, especially when it is uncomfortable, even when it seems impossible and down right scary.

Where are the places in your life where you must advocate for the least, and the lost, and the lowly? Where are the places in your life where you must care for your neighbor as yourself? Where are the places in your life where you must preach God’s word of equity and justice? 

Because the glory that is shone forth in this story of transfiguration promises to accompany us into our ordinary lives. We carry that glory into our work and our school and our play, it becomes the spirit that inspires and creates us, it becomes the life that gives us life. It is that which is in the eyes and souls of those whose paths we cross. It is in the respect and dignity with which we treat everyone we meet; everyone God creates. 

Let us pray, that in this bright, shining moment, we may be those who bring change into places and spaces we live. Amen 

First Sunday in Lent Year A

Audio  First Sunday in Lent Year A

Genesis 2:15-17; 3:1-7, Romans 5:12-19, Matthew 4:1-11, Psalm 32

The truth of the gospel is that it tells us who we are and whose we are. We are God’s beloved, marked and claimed as God’s own. God’s deepest desire is to be in relationship with us. And yet, we don’t believe it. We let all sorts of voices convince us that we are not good enough, not smart enough, not pretty enough, not wealthy enough… so why would God, the creator of all that is seen and unseen, want to be in relationship with me. There are voices that try to convince us that some of us are included in God’s web of love, and others are not.

But our sacred story shows us over and over that God’s heart’s desire is to love us into wholeness, love us into compassion, love us into mercy and justice, every one of us. And God shows us that desire by being born into our world, living and loving and suffering and dying. Jesus lives this live, just like you and me. God’s heart’s desire is to be in relationship with us.

That’s why this story from Matthew is so very important for us to hear. Jesus has just been baptized by John, the Spirt of God descends like a dove, and a voice from heaven says, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” This is Jesus’ identity, and this is our identity. We are God’s beloveds, with no caveats, no conditions, and no quid pro quos.

This story that takes place in the wilderness, of Jesus and the devil, is the second great quid pro quo, the first was in the garden of Eden. In the garden, the devil said to Adam and Eve, if you eat from this tree, the one God told you not to eat from, then I (the devil) will make you like God. The devil says, if you do what I ask you to do, then you will have everything you think you want, power, beauty, knowledge, control, riches. All of these things seem good, but really are illusory. A little like catching fireflies, they are brilliant to watch, but as soon as you try to keep them in a jar as your own, they die and all you have is dead bugs.

Well, the devil was fairly successful in that garden of Eden story, and humans have been grappling with the seduction of the devil ever since. You and I know this voice of transaction very well. If you just have this one drink, I promise you will feel so much better. If you tell this one lie, you’ll get that job you want. If you cheat on this test, you’ll get that better grade and then everyone will get off your back. We are seduced by what we think we want, what we think will make us happy. And the rub is that whatever it is in the moment seems so good, so right.

That is exactly what is happening with Jesus. THE quid pro quo, If you do this Jesus, then I will give you power and glory, and you will have command of all that bows down before you.

I’m reminded of Edmund, in The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe, one of the books in C.S. Lewis’ Chronicles of Narnia. Edmund is the third child in a family of four children. He is overshadowed by his older brother Peter, and Edmund suffers from a lack of confidence that contributes to a rather unfortunate series of decisions. When the children enter the land of Narnia through the wardrobe, they encounter eternal winter, brought on by the despicable Queen. The Queen approaches Edmund and tempts him with the sugary concoction, Turkish delight, and some warm and wonderful hot cocoa as well. Thus begins Edmund’s turn toward the despicable Queen, and away from the Lion Aslan, his brother and sisters, and all that represents. 

You see, just about without an exception, temptation looks and feels delicious. It is part of our very humanity to seek out that which we believe is positive, pleasurable, and good. We always embark on the road to perdition with the belief that it is in fact a good. That is the nature of seduction. It begins with a beautiful face, it begins with a ripe red apple, it begins with mouthwatering tastiness, it begins with the promise of relief, escape, pleasure, it begins in wonder and amazement, but many times it does not end well. And yet, often we are powerless to know it or to see it. 

The great seducer in our gospel today shows Jesus three wonderful and amazing things. First, stones that may become bread. It may be hard to imagine yourself as Jesus, or not, but try for a moment. You are concerned about poverty and starvation all over the known world. Your instructions to those who follow you are to feed the hungry; over and over you ask your friends and followers to feed the hungry. And here you are presented with a solution to world hunger. Command these stones to become bread. That’s it, that’s all it takes. There are enough stones in the world if they all became bread there would be no child going to bed hungry at night. Who wouldn’t say yes? Feeding people is good, isn’t it?

Second, ultimate safety. If you were unable to be hurt, you would be able to continue to relieve world hunger forever and for always? If you were unable to be hurt, you would be able to love everyone all the time? If you are unable to be hurt, you would not have to go to the cross to die? Sounds like a good, doesn’t it? 

Third, authority. Everyone and everything answering to you. With ultimate authority, everyone would follow your rules and your rules are good rules. Love your neighbor, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, visit the sick and imprisoned. The world would be perfect if you were in charge. 

What’s so wrong with this scene? Nothing at all. Nothing at all. That is the nature of seduction. It looks so good. It tastes so good. It feels so good. It must be right. We are human after all. What makes this story so powerful is that we have been there. Each and every one of us has been there; we may even be there yet today. This is about Jesus, and it is about each of us. You see, it isn’t black and white, right or wrong, it isn’t obvious or clear, and don’t let anyone seduce you into thinking that it is. This journey of life is full of choices, which is God’s gift to us, choice, and a pile of love to go with it, because we know that God's love wins. Even Jesus had the choice, the choice to follow the seducer, the choice to give in to the pain and suffering of his journey, the choice to walk away from the cross. 

God gives us the choice, and with the choice is unconditional love. Not transactional love, not a quid pro quo, but a relationship of love, of mercy, of compassion, of hope. Because even when we are seduced by the power, the riches, the control, God loves us. And God says to us, lay it down, it’s killing you, you are forgiven, you are my beloved.

Thanks be to God.

3 Lent Yr C March 24 2019

3 Lent Yr C March 24 2019

Exodus 3:1-15, 1 Corinthians 10:1-13, Luke 13:1-9, Psalm 63:1-8

We continue along this journey with Jesus to Jerusalem. Imagine yourself along the road with him, it's a hot and dusty journey. You stop along the way to make camp, and people gather to listen to Jesus teach. But the journey is made more difficult because talk is they don't like Jesus much in Jerusalem, and yet he insists on making his way there. On this day though, the subject at hand is one of the most common questions asked, then or now: Are the bad things that happen to us our fault? Do we deserve them? Are they, in fact, at least the consequence of, if not punishment for, our sinful deeds? 

We may ask that question in a relatively mundane, even superstitious way, when something relatively minor goes wrong and we wonder, “What did I do to deserve that?” Or we may echo this question in a much more profound, heart-wrenching way when calamity strikes. I’d be willing to bet that almost all of us have sat with someone at the hospital or at the funeral who attributes grave illness or death to God as some sort of punishment. Those are not the times to correct incorrect theology, but the story of the fig tree we hear today tells us something very different. 

A very different theology is enacted in what we do and say and hear each time we gather together on these Sunday mornings. Before we eat together, before we put out our hands to accept Jesus into our hearts and bodies, we repent and return to the Lord. We confess our sins, ask for forgiveness, and indeed are forgiven. Sin is not really a very popular word these days. And yet, it is sin that separates us from Love, from God. The reality is that our sin causes our vision to curve in on itself, and we begin to believe that we are the center of all things. The corrective to sin is to turn around, to repent, to look outside of ourselves, to be bathed in God's grace and love, and to reach out to help others. 

Our journey in Lent is not about how wicked we are, it's not about shame, it's not about not being good enough. Our journey in Lent is about the practice of living in God's presence, the practice of loving, the practice of turning around and turning toward God. The parable of the fig tree shows us that when you think God has reached God's limit of forgiveness, God will forgive one more time. We are not perfect, this world is not perfect, but we are perfectly loved, perfectly forgiven. We are broken, but we are not lost, because Love wins. 

God’s relationship with us, God’s beloveds, is just that, it’s a relationship, it is not transactional. It is Love, and love is not transactional, it is not a bargain. We say, God, if you will get me out of this mess, then I will …. go to church every Sunday? never swear again? It is our mistake when we make it transactional. And humanity has been making that mistake throughout all story telling. Thank God for forgiveness. Thank God for just one more chance. Every time we bargain with God, we enter into a transaction, not a relationship. God calls us to relationship. Even Roman society was based on the premise that the good was a zero sum, a limited amount, so every encounter was transactional, there was aways a winner and a loser. 

We are not so different today. People want so desperately to be rewarded for good behavior. Some want so desperately to make sure those who exhibit bad behavior don't get the reward of heaven. They are willing to use Jesus, God, and the Bible as weapons to keep themselves in the right, but, they're wrong. With God there are no winners and losers, only imperfect people who are perfectly loved and forgiven. Only imperfect people who respond to God's amazing and abundant love and forgiveness by loving their neighbor, by feeding the hungry, tending the sick, visiting those who need companionship. 

So back to the question about why do bad things happen to good people. God's love is not about cause and effect. That is a very difficult proposition. God causes people to suffer? God causes people to loose everything they have? God causes storms and accidents alike? That's just bad theology. There are many people who don't believe in a God like that, and I'm with them. There are natural consequences to bad behavior, there are natural consequences to all our behavior, but that is not God's judgment. That said, God does indeed care how we live our lives, and how we treat people, and holds us accountable.

The claim of scripture is incarnation, no less. That is an amazing and astounding claim, and I can believe in a God of no less. God does not rescue humanity from itself, God does not rescue humanity from it's own stupidity, or it's own brilliance. God does not rescue humanity from the depths of grief, or the heights of joy. God joins humanity in the midst of it. The claim of scripture is incarnation, no less. God with us, in all of it with us. And God transforms us. God creates something new out of it. God's grace and love trumps judgment. God's grace and love transform us, and in being transformed we turn away from that which is killing us, that which is causing brokenness and division and fragmentation, and we turn to God and to others. We are forgiven. We are loved. We are changed.

Let it alone for one more year, let me put some more manure on it, give it another chance. Let's be patient with this tree. It may yet produce, let's help it along and wait and see. For all of God's love and God's grace and God's patience and God's forgiveness, there is an expectation that something new will be born, that there will be fruit. 

Bad things happen to good people. We read about and hear about tragedy all the time, sometimes so much that we just have to turn our televisions off, leave the mobile device alone. But it is not God's doing. God's doing is being with us, among us, carrying us in our weakness, crying with us in our grief, dancing with us in our joy. God is digging around our roots, spreading manure in the hope that we’ll blossom and bear fruit. God loves us, loves us, loves us, enough to hold us accountable for our faults, cover us in grace, walk by our side, and forgive us our sins as long as this life shall last. And that's what Lent is about.

14 Pentecost Proper 19 Yr A Sept 14 2014

Audio 9.14.2014

Today we have the second installment of Matthew's gospel on forgiveness. Last week I said to you that forgiveness is about the heart, and not forgiving will kill you from the inside out. Forgiveness changes us. Forgiveness covers us with it's grace. Forgiveness can even rewrite the narrative of our lives. And, just as importantly, we are forgiven. In all of our impetuous imperfection, in all of our risky races, in all of our messy murkiness, we continue to be the delight of God's life, we continue to be loved perfectly, and forgiven abundantly. God continues to come to us in love, God comes to us in the unreasonable incarnation, God comes to us in Jesus, in the bread, in the wine, in each other, and God says to us, there is nothing, absolutely nothing you can do that will separate me from you. God says, I forgive you now, and I will forgive you forever. 

How many times should I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? As many as seven times? Jesus says, as many as seventy-seven times. Really? Seventy-seven times? Hyperbole? Exaggeration? Or truth? Forgiveness is to be given without limit—an abundance of forgiveness. The gospel writer Matthew uses the "perfect" number 7 in this story, which represents fullness and  spiritual perfection. So how many times is enough? 

Not enough or just enough or even good enough is not the measure here. Forgiveness is the attitude, the posture, that a follower of Jesus takes in all relationship. There are books written on forgiveness. There's "forgiveness Friday" on Facebook. Why does forgiveness remain so hard for us? We look at forgiveness as a transaction, if I forgive you you will change, you will show remorse, you stop doing that dastardly thing that you do. But the forgiveness that is shown to us in this passage is none of that. It is the kind of forgiveness that is not a transaction, it is not a single act, but a matter of constant practice. 

Sometimes, often in fact, forgiveness does not happen once and for all. That is one reason why forgiveness is so hard. Sometimes, the hurt and the pain are so big, and so deep, and maybe even so horrible, that forgiveness needs to happen daily, maybe even more often, it indeed becomes a constant practice. We see and hear when violence has been inflicted on someone, that the loved ones look for revenge, for retribution even. We ask how can there be forgiveness when the wrong is so horrible? We ask is there a time when forgiveness cannot or should not happen? But without forgiveness the heart hardens, the soul withers, and death occurs from the inside out. Forgiveness is a constant practice, and sometimes forgiveness takes a lifetime. 

Forgiveness wraps us in grace, and in love. Forgiveness does not take away hurt or anger, but forgiveness keeps the heart supple, so that it does not wither and die. We can forgive, because we have been forgiven. To be human is to miss the mark, to be human is to hurt and be hurt, to be human is to be broken, to fragment. We are created as these wonderful, beautiful, brutal, passionate beings. Our very beings long for joy, for meaning, for excitement, for wonder, for speed, and for peace and quiet. But life breaks us. We seek after so much that is good for us, and that which is harmful to us. In our seeking, we often hurt ourselves and others. 

But Jesus heals us. The pieces of our lives are put back together again, our lives will look and feel different, but we will be whole. That is forgiveness, forgiveness that brings healing, forgiveness that breaks our hearts. You see, when our hearts break, and then our hearts are healed, that leaves scars. And it is those scars that help us to forgive. It is those scars that give us the grace to see the beauty and the brutality in ourselves, in those we love, and those we cannot love, yet. It is those scars that create the space in our hearts and our lives and give us the capacity to forgive. 

That is what's in Matthew today. Forgiveness happened, forgiveness of a debt, a debt that kept this man a slave, a debt that held his life in peril. That debt was forgiven. That man was graced by forgiveness. And yet he did not let that forgiveness permeate his being, he did not let that forgiveness transform him, he did not pay that love and healing forward.

We have been forgiven, so we may also forgive. And this is the depth of what Matthew shows us in these passages. Forgiveness is to be our posture in the world. So sometimes we find it incredibly difficult to forgive, and sometimes we find it incredibly difficult to accept forgiveness. When you have done wrong, when you have hurt, when you have dealt harshly with the ones you love, and you are offered the grace of forgiveness, how do you accept that? Do you think to yourself, I am not worthy. Do you think to yourself, I don't deserve such grace. The effect is the same as not forgiving. When you can't or don't or won't accept forgiveness your heart hardens, there is no space for love. Accepting forgiveness, accepting you are forgiven, accepting grace, opens your heart and your life to the possibility of transformation, the reality of resurrection. Accepting forgiveness profoundly changes the way we are in relationship with one another. 

"I'm sorry" - "no problem." "I forgive you" - "oh nothing to forgive" are just words without meaning. "I'll never forgive you for what you did to me" or "I can never be forgiven for what I did to you" are words carried on weapons of destruction. As a culture we seem to either use the platitudes, or be at the other extreme where there is no forgiveness possible. But what if instead, we practice forgiveness constantly, what if we carry ourselves with a posture of forgiveness. Forgiveness that conveys grace, forgiveness that heals. God's forgiveness, puts us back together again, binds us and makes us whole and mends our scars. God's forgiveness gives us compassion. God's forgiveness offers us hope. 

I forgive you - you are forgiven is the reality in which God's relationship with us abides, and our relationship with others must live. Forgive them, they do not know what they do, are the words we hear from the cross. Forgive them, forgive us, forgive me, Jesus, fill us with your grace so that love overflows. Amen.