Sermon 02.28.10
“The Multi-Faceted, Many Images of Jesus”
Is Jesus having an identity crisis? It might appear so, on a first reading of today’s text from the gospel of Luke. In the span of five short verses, he is like the month of March – roaring in like a lion and going out like a lamb. He starts out gutsy, telling the Pharisees to take a terse message to Herod. “Go tell that fox”, he says, and you can just imagine that he’s just plain aggravated as all get out. I picture flecks of spit coming out of his mouth as he asserts that he will finish the work that he has started.
And then, just as quickly, he dissolves from his anger, and bemoans the city that will be the place of his death, and wants to comfort it like a mother hen brooding over her chicks. In the other gospel accounts he is actually moved to tears as he pities the fate of Jerusalem and its inhabitants.
So what is going on here – is Jesus a keenly determined man or a a hand-wringing whiner? Now I mean no disrespect here, let me say that. But the character of Jesus changes so dramatically, it’s hard to tell where he is coming from. And it is that chameleon-like quality of Jesus – that he becomes something different for everyone he meets, that makes him just so interesting. He is multi-faceted, having many sides to his nature.
In the gospel texts, we almost see Jesus as the quintessential Renaissance man. He heals, he teaches, he preaches. He eats with sinners. He speaks in parables. He calms the storms. He is a sailor when he is in the fishing boat with Simon Peter. He is a dinner guest at the wedding at Cana. He is a host at the Passover meal in the upper room.
If you ask the priests and scribes who he is, the answer would be “the enemy who threatens the established norms of our faith traditions.” If you ask Pilate or Herod who he is, the answer would be “the thorn in our side whom the unwashed masses want to crown as King.” If you ask the Samaritan woman at the well who he is, the answer would be “the one who knew my entire past without me telling him.” Jesus is perceived differently by everyone he meets.
To illustrate this thought, I’ve brought some pictures with me today. Throughout the centuries, our images of Jesus have changed. The earliest recorded images that were painted in the house churches showed him as the Good Shepherd, carrying a sheep around his shoulders. It is an image, which many people like and identify with – Jesus as protector of the weak and helpless, Jesus as the one who tends the flock.
Think about the stained glass windows that you have seen in churches, or the artwork here in the sanctuary. The painting that we have here is The Head of Christ by Warner Sallman, made popular back in the 1940’s. This image has been reproduced over 500 million times, making it one of the most popular. It shows a serene, composed Savior, not the Jesus who overturned the money changers tables at the temple.
That Jesus was angry, unrestrained and not very shepherdly.
Another painting that is commonly found in the sanctuary is Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, by Heinrich Hofman. You know exactly the one that I mean. In the UCC churches of Western PA, where I was serving before I came here, it was this picture that was displayed most often. This Jesus is depleted and desperate, knowing that the time of betrayal is near and praying to his father that the cup might pass from him. He is pensive, and weighed down, with the inevitability of his impending death.
There are two more images that I would ask you to recall: The first is DaVinci’s masterpiece, The Last Supper. Jesus is serving bread and wine and telling the disciples that these symbols will continue forever to commemorate his passion. This Jesus is concerned with the final meal with his friends, his followers, the one who would betray him and the ones that would desert and deny him, the one who would need to touch Jesus’s side to believe in the resurrection.
These are the standard, classical pieces that many older people identify with. But there are newer pictures of Jesus, that again, show different traits and parts of his personality. And I wanted to show you some of them as well. Here is the laughing Jesus, whose head is tossed back in joy. I like to think that he enjoyed a good joke. And we cannot forget the Jesus who was frequently surrounded by little children. Kids don’t hang all over you unless you are fun to be with.
There’s a wonderful sculpture of Jesus on the cross wearing jeans, surely an image that resonates with youth. I’ve even brought two very modern images of images, both very different in nature. One is a wide-eyed country looking young Jesus, and the other shows a rough and tough Jesus with a tattoo marked “Father” on his arm.
With all these images, is there anyone who can’t find a Jesus to like. That perhaps is one of the messages from today’s text.
There are varied images of Jesus, some of which are dear to our hearts. We serve a risen savior who was not only gutsy, but gracious; not only in charge, but submissive to his father; not only weary and drained, but also glorious in his resurrection.
All of us identify with some image of Jesus, whether from a childhood raised in church surroundings, or from the more contemporary images that I have shown you. He appeals to all, in many roles, and in all surroundings. I think this embodies the words of the UCC statement of faith: “In Jesus Christ, the man of Nazareth, our crucified and risen Savior, you have come to us and shared our common lot, conquering sin and death and reconciling the world to yourself.” Find the Jesus that speaks the most to your soul and hold that for your image.
Our Jesus, the Jesus we love and praise here today, has shown his divinity and humanity in multiple identities, none of which constitutes a crisis. He is multi-faceted. Everyone who knew him during his time on earth saw something different, and all of us in this room have a unique relationship to him. All views are distinctive, yet Hebrews 13:8 tells us that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever. No matter how we see him, this is truth indeed. Amen.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
"No Concessions, No Compromises"
Sermon 02.21.10
“No Concessions, No Compromises”
The children were all lined up in the cafeteria of a Catholic elementary school. At the head of the table was a large pile of apples. The nun in charge of the lunch hour had made a note and posted it on the apple tray. “Take only one,” it said. “God is watching”. Moving further along the lunch line was a large pile of chocolate chip cookies. A child had written a note and placed it beside the goodies. “Take all you want. God is watching the apples.”
The subject of temptation, specifically the temptation of our Lord, is the focus of the gospel text this morning. It’s a time prior to his ministry. He had been baptized by John in the Jordan River and is immediately led into the desert by the Holy Spirit. No miracles have been performed as of yet, no sermons have been preached, no healings have occured. Jesus is in a place of preparation, of testing, of contemplation, and of temptation. He is wondering at this point, perhaps, about what lies ahead of him as the Savior of the world.
There are 3 temptations, since trouble always comes in threes (you didn’t know that this had a biblical basis, did you?) The devil first appeals to the humanity of Jesus. The verses tell us that he had not eaten in 40 days and he was famished. The devil taunts him – “do a trick,” he suggests, “and take a stone and turn it into a loaf of bread. If you are the Son of God, this shouldn’t be a problem.”
The second temptation is one of power, of greed, based on Let’s make a deal. Bet you didn’t know that this was biblical. The devil says that He has the authority over all the kingdoms of the world, and this can all be had by Jesus, as long as he is willing to worship Satan. Jesus says, “No trade.” I’d like to think that he muttered to himself, “where does this guy get off saying HE has all authority – does he know who he’s talking to? I mean he just alluded to the fact that I’m the son of God.”
The third temptation is putting God to the test. The Devil says that Jesus can hurl himself down from the mountaintop and the angels will be there to protect him, according to the Scriptures. Jesus response: “Don’t even go there. Everyone knows that you don’t spit into the wind. Don’t test God. You will never, even win this one.”
The devil slinks off, but you know that he will eventually come back into the picture, as the text tells us, at an opportune time. But Jesus has held his resolve, relying on the Scriptures for all of his answers, with no concessions and no compromises.
You would think that this would be the model passage from the Bible to show us how to resist temptation. But it just isn’t, most of the time. For modern readers, the problem with the temptation story is that it seems unreal, far removed from our experience. The devil does not appear to us and transport us from place to place. The temptations we experience are often not so clearly recognizable. The choice is not between good and bad, but between bad and worse or good and better.
Let me go back to the very first story that I told about the apples and the cookies. Clearly, if we are told to take one of something, and we take two, that is wrong. But the child’s sign of, “Take all you want” is a can of worms waiting to be opened, a Pandora’s box. Taking an extra cookie for yourself may be an okay thing to do, and taking one for a friend is certainly a nice gesture. But if you take all the cookies for the kids in your neighborhood and leave none for the children behind you in the rest of the cafeteria line, this is not good, even if it sounds like a wonderful philanthropic act.
What we do learn from the story, however, are that there are some ethical instructions that cover the basis for most Christian living. In the first temptation, Jesus shows us that life is more than meeting one’s physical needs. You do not live by bread alone. There must be more and there is more. Selfishly satisfying your own desires is not the path we are called to take. Jesus tells us that that even a single loaf could lead to danger. We are called to lives that are sacrificial for the good of others.
In the second temptation, we are called to be faithful, not necessarily successful by the world’s standards. We cannot be dazzled and consumed by the riches of this world, when another world awaits us where the streets are paved with gold, and there is no more pain and tears. We are called to be true to ourselves and not to other people’s dreams of power and greed.
On the final temptation, we are taught that we must rely on God’s power in our lives. We are to serve God and God alone, and to relinquish control to God’s call for who we are to be. This is the hardest temptation of all, I think, because we all want to believe that we are driving the bus. It’s natural, in a country that takes pride in self-reliance, to think that we can take on anybody, even God. You would think that we would know better by now.
No concessions and no compromises. It’s a tough act to follow. But follow we must if we are to call ourselves Christians. When temptations come, we must find the courage to do as Jesus would have done: to put others before self, to not be seduced by submitting to the popular way, and to allow God’s hand to take precedence over all that we do. May our temptations be few, may our faith remain strong, and may we be led by the Holy Spirit. Amen.
“No Concessions, No Compromises”
The children were all lined up in the cafeteria of a Catholic elementary school. At the head of the table was a large pile of apples. The nun in charge of the lunch hour had made a note and posted it on the apple tray. “Take only one,” it said. “God is watching”. Moving further along the lunch line was a large pile of chocolate chip cookies. A child had written a note and placed it beside the goodies. “Take all you want. God is watching the apples.”
The subject of temptation, specifically the temptation of our Lord, is the focus of the gospel text this morning. It’s a time prior to his ministry. He had been baptized by John in the Jordan River and is immediately led into the desert by the Holy Spirit. No miracles have been performed as of yet, no sermons have been preached, no healings have occured. Jesus is in a place of preparation, of testing, of contemplation, and of temptation. He is wondering at this point, perhaps, about what lies ahead of him as the Savior of the world.
There are 3 temptations, since trouble always comes in threes (you didn’t know that this had a biblical basis, did you?) The devil first appeals to the humanity of Jesus. The verses tell us that he had not eaten in 40 days and he was famished. The devil taunts him – “do a trick,” he suggests, “and take a stone and turn it into a loaf of bread. If you are the Son of God, this shouldn’t be a problem.”
The second temptation is one of power, of greed, based on Let’s make a deal. Bet you didn’t know that this was biblical. The devil says that He has the authority over all the kingdoms of the world, and this can all be had by Jesus, as long as he is willing to worship Satan. Jesus says, “No trade.” I’d like to think that he muttered to himself, “where does this guy get off saying HE has all authority – does he know who he’s talking to? I mean he just alluded to the fact that I’m the son of God.”
The third temptation is putting God to the test. The Devil says that Jesus can hurl himself down from the mountaintop and the angels will be there to protect him, according to the Scriptures. Jesus response: “Don’t even go there. Everyone knows that you don’t spit into the wind. Don’t test God. You will never, even win this one.”
The devil slinks off, but you know that he will eventually come back into the picture, as the text tells us, at an opportune time. But Jesus has held his resolve, relying on the Scriptures for all of his answers, with no concessions and no compromises.
You would think that this would be the model passage from the Bible to show us how to resist temptation. But it just isn’t, most of the time. For modern readers, the problem with the temptation story is that it seems unreal, far removed from our experience. The devil does not appear to us and transport us from place to place. The temptations we experience are often not so clearly recognizable. The choice is not between good and bad, but between bad and worse or good and better.
Let me go back to the very first story that I told about the apples and the cookies. Clearly, if we are told to take one of something, and we take two, that is wrong. But the child’s sign of, “Take all you want” is a can of worms waiting to be opened, a Pandora’s box. Taking an extra cookie for yourself may be an okay thing to do, and taking one for a friend is certainly a nice gesture. But if you take all the cookies for the kids in your neighborhood and leave none for the children behind you in the rest of the cafeteria line, this is not good, even if it sounds like a wonderful philanthropic act.
What we do learn from the story, however, are that there are some ethical instructions that cover the basis for most Christian living. In the first temptation, Jesus shows us that life is more than meeting one’s physical needs. You do not live by bread alone. There must be more and there is more. Selfishly satisfying your own desires is not the path we are called to take. Jesus tells us that that even a single loaf could lead to danger. We are called to lives that are sacrificial for the good of others.
In the second temptation, we are called to be faithful, not necessarily successful by the world’s standards. We cannot be dazzled and consumed by the riches of this world, when another world awaits us where the streets are paved with gold, and there is no more pain and tears. We are called to be true to ourselves and not to other people’s dreams of power and greed.
On the final temptation, we are taught that we must rely on God’s power in our lives. We are to serve God and God alone, and to relinquish control to God’s call for who we are to be. This is the hardest temptation of all, I think, because we all want to believe that we are driving the bus. It’s natural, in a country that takes pride in self-reliance, to think that we can take on anybody, even God. You would think that we would know better by now.
No concessions and no compromises. It’s a tough act to follow. But follow we must if we are to call ourselves Christians. When temptations come, we must find the courage to do as Jesus would have done: to put others before self, to not be seduced by submitting to the popular way, and to allow God’s hand to take precedence over all that we do. May our temptations be few, may our faith remain strong, and may we be led by the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
"Forgiving Our Own Sinds"
Sermon 02.17.10 Ash Wednesday
“Forgiving Our Own Sins”
A very wise theological student wrote in a final examination on church history: “The Protestant Reformation is when the Protestants broke away from the church and began to forgive their own sins.”
Sins – tonight’s text are full of sins and confession of sins, from the prophets’ urging to repent, to David’s emotional outburst when confronted by Nathan about his rape of Bathsheba and murder of her husband Uriah, to Jesus’ condemnation of the practices of the false piety of the Pharisees.
Most churches do not talk a lot about sin anymore, and so I think a brief history lesson on sin and repentance might be interesting before my message. Now, we’re not going to go all the way back to Adam and Eve in the garden. What I want to explain to you is the process of repentance, penance, contrition and redemption that has fallen by the wayside, and brought truth to the statement written by the theological student.
In the early days of the church, during the first few centuries following Jesus’ death, the newly-formed Christian community found itself in the position of having to deal with those who had been baptized – an act that washed away the original sin of Adam & Eve – but were still back-sliding into old transgressions. They needed a way to systematically deal with this improprieties, and in particular, with those individuals who recanted their belief in Christ when faced with death or imprisonment during the Roman rule.
The leaders first response was to make the road back to full inclusion in the church community as long and difficult a process as possible. This is where the process of penance was created. Repenting members spent years being denied the sacraments, were often required to perform obnoxious, repellent tasks and made to focus the remainder of their lives on deeds and works of penance.
The point was to make a lasting impression so that there would not be a second fall from grace. However, the concept of a death-bed confession existed, assuring that someone could still live a lifetime of transgressions and suddenly be absolved at the last possible moment.
This was an attractive proposition to many and so it did little to appease the churches who found themselves up to their necks in young, healthy sinners. It was the Irish St. Patrick who created and popularized the system of private confession and repeatable penances, which he then passed on to parish priests. By the thirteenth century, the penances were lightened, and in some cases, simple contrition was enough to merit a priestly absolution.
In the Protestant tradition, confession has been further weakened by making it a corporate element in the worship service. We confess our sins as a whole, and then assure ourselves of God’s grace. Little emphasis is placed on penance, if any at all. The sentiment is that basically people are okay, they mess up from time to time, and no real transformation of the heart is necessary.
Dietrich Bonhoffer, a Protestant German scholar and theologian argued in this manner: We must ask ourselves…whether we have not been confessing our sins to ourselves and also granting ourselves absolution. And is not the real reason perhaps for countless relapses and the feebleness of Christian obedience to be found precisely in that fact that we are living on self-forgiveness and not real forgiveness.”
And Bonhoffer pretty much nails this one. We are living in a society where there is still an “urge to purge”. Countless celebrity guests have told their deepest sins on the television shows of Jerry Springer and Montel Williams. We have elected officials at the press conference microphones confessing their infidelities. Stockbrokers and automobile makers have been exposed for their greed and disregard for their clients and customers. To be sure, there’s a lot of dirty laundry flapping in the wind, but no sense of contrition. And very little penance. Yes, we’re sorry. But the problem is that we are sorry that we got caught doing whatever we did.
Today, on Ash Wednesday, we are reminded that a little more is required if we are to be fully reconciled to God. The prophet Joel calls for the people to return to God with fasting, weeping, and mourning. I doubt that any of us is ready to take him up on that FULL offer. Paul tells the Corinthians that the person of Christ who knew no sin, became sin so that we might become the righteousness of God. In Psalm 51, King David displays the desperate remorse for his transgressions and offers to God a broken and contrite heart. We must truly confess our sins to God as well as to one another and be prepared to make reparations before absolution is given. Lent is the perfect season to put this into practice.
In the gospel text, Jesus specifically criticizes the Pharisees for their pretentions displays, and reminds them that they need not parade around for others to see their piety. Verse 18 urges them not to let others see their fasting, but by your Father who is in secret, and your father who sees in secret will reward you.” In other words, confess to God and not to the people on the street or to Geraldo Rivera. And certainly don’t look to them for your absolution.
As we enter this Lenten season, let us be aware of our sins against God and neighbor and the need for true contrition and reparations. It is the only means of being reconciled to God through Jesus Christ. Let us find a way of doing Protestant penance for our actions that separate us from others and from our heavenly Father. Rather than the foolish and insipid and lukewarm public confessions that we hear on a daily basis, let us seek time alone with God to declare our sins and our sorrow at having committed them.
As the psalmist says, “Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing. May we bring our broken and contrite spirits before the Almighty, and allow God to do the forgiveness. Amen.
“Forgiving Our Own Sins”
A very wise theological student wrote in a final examination on church history: “The Protestant Reformation is when the Protestants broke away from the church and began to forgive their own sins.”
Sins – tonight’s text are full of sins and confession of sins, from the prophets’ urging to repent, to David’s emotional outburst when confronted by Nathan about his rape of Bathsheba and murder of her husband Uriah, to Jesus’ condemnation of the practices of the false piety of the Pharisees.
Most churches do not talk a lot about sin anymore, and so I think a brief history lesson on sin and repentance might be interesting before my message. Now, we’re not going to go all the way back to Adam and Eve in the garden. What I want to explain to you is the process of repentance, penance, contrition and redemption that has fallen by the wayside, and brought truth to the statement written by the theological student.
In the early days of the church, during the first few centuries following Jesus’ death, the newly-formed Christian community found itself in the position of having to deal with those who had been baptized – an act that washed away the original sin of Adam & Eve – but were still back-sliding into old transgressions. They needed a way to systematically deal with this improprieties, and in particular, with those individuals who recanted their belief in Christ when faced with death or imprisonment during the Roman rule.
The leaders first response was to make the road back to full inclusion in the church community as long and difficult a process as possible. This is where the process of penance was created. Repenting members spent years being denied the sacraments, were often required to perform obnoxious, repellent tasks and made to focus the remainder of their lives on deeds and works of penance.
The point was to make a lasting impression so that there would not be a second fall from grace. However, the concept of a death-bed confession existed, assuring that someone could still live a lifetime of transgressions and suddenly be absolved at the last possible moment.
This was an attractive proposition to many and so it did little to appease the churches who found themselves up to their necks in young, healthy sinners. It was the Irish St. Patrick who created and popularized the system of private confession and repeatable penances, which he then passed on to parish priests. By the thirteenth century, the penances were lightened, and in some cases, simple contrition was enough to merit a priestly absolution.
In the Protestant tradition, confession has been further weakened by making it a corporate element in the worship service. We confess our sins as a whole, and then assure ourselves of God’s grace. Little emphasis is placed on penance, if any at all. The sentiment is that basically people are okay, they mess up from time to time, and no real transformation of the heart is necessary.
Dietrich Bonhoffer, a Protestant German scholar and theologian argued in this manner: We must ask ourselves…whether we have not been confessing our sins to ourselves and also granting ourselves absolution. And is not the real reason perhaps for countless relapses and the feebleness of Christian obedience to be found precisely in that fact that we are living on self-forgiveness and not real forgiveness.”
And Bonhoffer pretty much nails this one. We are living in a society where there is still an “urge to purge”. Countless celebrity guests have told their deepest sins on the television shows of Jerry Springer and Montel Williams. We have elected officials at the press conference microphones confessing their infidelities. Stockbrokers and automobile makers have been exposed for their greed and disregard for their clients and customers. To be sure, there’s a lot of dirty laundry flapping in the wind, but no sense of contrition. And very little penance. Yes, we’re sorry. But the problem is that we are sorry that we got caught doing whatever we did.
Today, on Ash Wednesday, we are reminded that a little more is required if we are to be fully reconciled to God. The prophet Joel calls for the people to return to God with fasting, weeping, and mourning. I doubt that any of us is ready to take him up on that FULL offer. Paul tells the Corinthians that the person of Christ who knew no sin, became sin so that we might become the righteousness of God. In Psalm 51, King David displays the desperate remorse for his transgressions and offers to God a broken and contrite heart. We must truly confess our sins to God as well as to one another and be prepared to make reparations before absolution is given. Lent is the perfect season to put this into practice.
In the gospel text, Jesus specifically criticizes the Pharisees for their pretentions displays, and reminds them that they need not parade around for others to see their piety. Verse 18 urges them not to let others see their fasting, but by your Father who is in secret, and your father who sees in secret will reward you.” In other words, confess to God and not to the people on the street or to Geraldo Rivera. And certainly don’t look to them for your absolution.
As we enter this Lenten season, let us be aware of our sins against God and neighbor and the need for true contrition and reparations. It is the only means of being reconciled to God through Jesus Christ. Let us find a way of doing Protestant penance for our actions that separate us from others and from our heavenly Father. Rather than the foolish and insipid and lukewarm public confessions that we hear on a daily basis, let us seek time alone with God to declare our sins and our sorrow at having committed them.
As the psalmist says, “Return to the Lord your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing. May we bring our broken and contrite spirits before the Almighty, and allow God to do the forgiveness. Amen.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
"Dare to Glare"
Sermon 02.14.10
“Dare to Glare”
It’s too bad that sunglasses weren’t invented until 1929. Peter, James and John could each have used a pair up on that mountain top during the Lord’s transfiguration, because we read in the text that Jesus’ face changed and his clothes became dazzling white. In this same passage in Matthew’s gospel it says that his face shone like the sun. Shone like the sun. Something that we haven’t seen too often in Baltimore these days. I almost couldn’t find my prop this morning, since I’ve had very little occasion to wear them. And the disciples were blinded by this sight. On this mountain top experience, there was clearly a glaze.
Dazzling white, shining like the sun. How many here have a good working knowledge of astronomy? Me neither. Some of us have suffered through the science classes where you learn the names of the planets, and how the earth revolves around the sun, but I doubt that we recall many of the facts that we learned in school; only that this orb is very, very, very bright. In fact, the sun is the origin of virtually all of the energy that supports life on earth.
The sun has been burning for 4.6 billion years, yet only in the past two decades have scientists really begun to learn of its power. This planet is do big that you could put a million earths inside it, and it’s so dense that the sunbeams we see today began their journey from the center of the sun before the last ice age. It’s doubtful that we could get a full appreciation in a 15-minute sermon, and that would not be my purpose.
But one of the most interesting phenomena that I would like us to focus on is that the sun has a halo-like corona around it that is thousands of times hotter than the actual surface. The sun is surrounded by smaller suns that are hotter than the core. These mini-suns dare to glare even in the spectacular light of the one huge glow. Now hold that thought as we move through the rest of the Luke’s text.
It is Jesus’ face and body that are transfigured before the apostles that day, and they were blinded by the light. They are blown off their feet by what they see. Right before their eyes, Jesus begins to glow brightly with the glory that is reserved for heavenly beings. And transfigured is the word that is used to describe the process. This word is used only twice in the entire Bible, once in Matthew and once in Mark to depict the event that is the text for today. The Greek word is met-a-morph-o-they – from which we get our word metamorphoses, meaning a dramatic changing from one thing to another. That’s your vocabulary lesson from today’s Gospel.
Jesus’ appearance is dramatically changed. That’s scary enough. But then Moses and Elijah appear beside Jesus and start talking to him. I picture the apostles rubbing their eyes or even shielding them in terror as they watch this trio continue their conversation. Moses and Elijah are the two greatest Israelite prophets, loved and revered by the Jewish people. For one to show up is spectacular enough; for both, you almost need to put on your blinders. Then, there’s a repeat performance, reminiscent of Jesus’ baptism, when the Father’s voice breaks through the heavens to inform the disciples that Jesus Christ is the Son, the Beloved. This is what brings the apostles to their knees. Imagine the sun exploding in the sky.
Truly, Peter, James and John are blinded by the light. You know how hard it is to drive into the sun when it’s setting. Or to have a glare in the rear view mirror that makes you try to block and squint and shut it out. You can’t look at it, it’s just too bright. If you have remember occasions when they has been an elipse of the sun, one of the things that you should not do is look directly into it because it can damage your retina and cornea.
The problem in today’s text, however, is not that the apostles shielded their eyes. The problem is that the light was so bright that they had to blink, to close their eyes, even momentarily. It’s obvious that they can’t process what’s happening, because Pete starts babbling. Lord, how about if we throw up a couple of sheds and do a tad of worshipping here. It’s like he couldn’t figure out what to say, so he just utters the first dumb thing that comes to him. There’s a supernova zinging by, lighting up all of heaven, a solar flare that has gone out of control and Peter thinks it’s the Little Dipper.
We are always in the same situation as the disciples. We’re constantly shading our eyes or turning away when it gets too bright. Instead of basking in wonder and amazement and awe, Peter says, shouldn’t we be doing something? We put on our sunglasses so that we can blunt the light and reduce it to an energy source that we can handle. It is much easier for us humans to face a 10-watt night light that the mega electricity that comes from God’s power.
But, the good news in this text is that, as Christians, we are commanded to carry the light of Christ to the community. While we can never be the sun, we can function as the corollas – the smaller orbs that encircle the main planet. We do not have the transfigurative power to call up the ghosts of the prophets and hear heavenly affirmations from God the Father. But we can give off light in our own right. We can dare to glare. There are always opportunities to shine. After the apostles fall to the ground, I think it is significant that a bright cloud overshadowed them. And Jesus says, “Get up, don’t be afraid to pull out your flashlights and spread some of your light.
It is easy to recognize God when there’s a blaze of glory. The shining God moments are clearly visible: a baby’s birth, a gorgeous sunset, a double rainbow, the eclipse of the sun. It is far harder to recognize the smaller lights that are visible – the mini-suns that we carry to the world. But they are there and sometimes poke through the clouds and we can be blinded if we’re not ready for them. Sometimes we are on the receiving ends of the corollas of others.
Several years ago, in North Dakota, a teacher assigned to visit children in a large city hospital received a routine call requesting that she visit a particular child. She took the boy’s name and room and was told by the teacher on the other end of the line, “We’re studying nouns and adverbs in his class now. I’d be grateful if you could help him with his homework so he doesn’t fall behind the others.”
It wasn’t until the visiting teacher got outside the boy’s room that she realized it was located in the hospital’s burn unit. No one had prepared her to find a ten-year old named Martin who was horribly burned and in great pain. She felt that professionally she couldn’t just turn around and walk out, so she awkwardly stammered, “I’m the hospital teacher and your teacher sent me to help you with nouns and adverbs.”
The next morning, the nurse on the burn unit asked her, “What did you do to that boy?’ Before she could finish with a profusion of apologies, the nurse interrupted her. “You don’t understand,” she said. “We’ve been very worried about Martin, but ever since you were here yesterday, his whole attitude is changed. He’s fighting back and responding to treatment. It’s as though this young man has decided to live.
Martin later explained that he had completely given up hope until he saw the teacher. It all changed when he came to a simple realization. With tears of joy, he told the nurse , “Well, they wouldn’t send a teacher to work on nouns and adverbs with a dying boy, would they?”
The Transfiguration does not call us to be "a light at the end of the tunnel," waiting for people lost in the dark to blunder their way towards us. The church is to take the light of the world, the glory of Christ, boldly into the dark places. There is always a cloud lurking right outside our ring of light. Will we move forward and further towards it, like the teacher did, reaching out with the good news of the gospel?
Jesus is the sun, the Transfgured one, we are only the son beams. We are to live our lives in the light and lead others toward Christ by keeping the light alive.
Let us keep our eyes open for shining moments, for times when sunbeams break through the clouds. Let us see how we can brighten the world for others. Let us refrain from picking up the sunglasses, lest we look away or blink when the power from heavens is made manifest. Let us dare to glare in the lives of others. May we experience our own transfigurations so that our hearts and minds are changed forever. Amen.
“Dare to Glare”
It’s too bad that sunglasses weren’t invented until 1929. Peter, James and John could each have used a pair up on that mountain top during the Lord’s transfiguration, because we read in the text that Jesus’ face changed and his clothes became dazzling white. In this same passage in Matthew’s gospel it says that his face shone like the sun. Shone like the sun. Something that we haven’t seen too often in Baltimore these days. I almost couldn’t find my prop this morning, since I’ve had very little occasion to wear them. And the disciples were blinded by this sight. On this mountain top experience, there was clearly a glaze.
Dazzling white, shining like the sun. How many here have a good working knowledge of astronomy? Me neither. Some of us have suffered through the science classes where you learn the names of the planets, and how the earth revolves around the sun, but I doubt that we recall many of the facts that we learned in school; only that this orb is very, very, very bright. In fact, the sun is the origin of virtually all of the energy that supports life on earth.
The sun has been burning for 4.6 billion years, yet only in the past two decades have scientists really begun to learn of its power. This planet is do big that you could put a million earths inside it, and it’s so dense that the sunbeams we see today began their journey from the center of the sun before the last ice age. It’s doubtful that we could get a full appreciation in a 15-minute sermon, and that would not be my purpose.
But one of the most interesting phenomena that I would like us to focus on is that the sun has a halo-like corona around it that is thousands of times hotter than the actual surface. The sun is surrounded by smaller suns that are hotter than the core. These mini-suns dare to glare even in the spectacular light of the one huge glow. Now hold that thought as we move through the rest of the Luke’s text.
It is Jesus’ face and body that are transfigured before the apostles that day, and they were blinded by the light. They are blown off their feet by what they see. Right before their eyes, Jesus begins to glow brightly with the glory that is reserved for heavenly beings. And transfigured is the word that is used to describe the process. This word is used only twice in the entire Bible, once in Matthew and once in Mark to depict the event that is the text for today. The Greek word is met-a-morph-o-they – from which we get our word metamorphoses, meaning a dramatic changing from one thing to another. That’s your vocabulary lesson from today’s Gospel.
Jesus’ appearance is dramatically changed. That’s scary enough. But then Moses and Elijah appear beside Jesus and start talking to him. I picture the apostles rubbing their eyes or even shielding them in terror as they watch this trio continue their conversation. Moses and Elijah are the two greatest Israelite prophets, loved and revered by the Jewish people. For one to show up is spectacular enough; for both, you almost need to put on your blinders. Then, there’s a repeat performance, reminiscent of Jesus’ baptism, when the Father’s voice breaks through the heavens to inform the disciples that Jesus Christ is the Son, the Beloved. This is what brings the apostles to their knees. Imagine the sun exploding in the sky.
Truly, Peter, James and John are blinded by the light. You know how hard it is to drive into the sun when it’s setting. Or to have a glare in the rear view mirror that makes you try to block and squint and shut it out. You can’t look at it, it’s just too bright. If you have remember occasions when they has been an elipse of the sun, one of the things that you should not do is look directly into it because it can damage your retina and cornea.
The problem in today’s text, however, is not that the apostles shielded their eyes. The problem is that the light was so bright that they had to blink, to close their eyes, even momentarily. It’s obvious that they can’t process what’s happening, because Pete starts babbling. Lord, how about if we throw up a couple of sheds and do a tad of worshipping here. It’s like he couldn’t figure out what to say, so he just utters the first dumb thing that comes to him. There’s a supernova zinging by, lighting up all of heaven, a solar flare that has gone out of control and Peter thinks it’s the Little Dipper.
We are always in the same situation as the disciples. We’re constantly shading our eyes or turning away when it gets too bright. Instead of basking in wonder and amazement and awe, Peter says, shouldn’t we be doing something? We put on our sunglasses so that we can blunt the light and reduce it to an energy source that we can handle. It is much easier for us humans to face a 10-watt night light that the mega electricity that comes from God’s power.
But, the good news in this text is that, as Christians, we are commanded to carry the light of Christ to the community. While we can never be the sun, we can function as the corollas – the smaller orbs that encircle the main planet. We do not have the transfigurative power to call up the ghosts of the prophets and hear heavenly affirmations from God the Father. But we can give off light in our own right. We can dare to glare. There are always opportunities to shine. After the apostles fall to the ground, I think it is significant that a bright cloud overshadowed them. And Jesus says, “Get up, don’t be afraid to pull out your flashlights and spread some of your light.
It is easy to recognize God when there’s a blaze of glory. The shining God moments are clearly visible: a baby’s birth, a gorgeous sunset, a double rainbow, the eclipse of the sun. It is far harder to recognize the smaller lights that are visible – the mini-suns that we carry to the world. But they are there and sometimes poke through the clouds and we can be blinded if we’re not ready for them. Sometimes we are on the receiving ends of the corollas of others.
Several years ago, in North Dakota, a teacher assigned to visit children in a large city hospital received a routine call requesting that she visit a particular child. She took the boy’s name and room and was told by the teacher on the other end of the line, “We’re studying nouns and adverbs in his class now. I’d be grateful if you could help him with his homework so he doesn’t fall behind the others.”
It wasn’t until the visiting teacher got outside the boy’s room that she realized it was located in the hospital’s burn unit. No one had prepared her to find a ten-year old named Martin who was horribly burned and in great pain. She felt that professionally she couldn’t just turn around and walk out, so she awkwardly stammered, “I’m the hospital teacher and your teacher sent me to help you with nouns and adverbs.”
The next morning, the nurse on the burn unit asked her, “What did you do to that boy?’ Before she could finish with a profusion of apologies, the nurse interrupted her. “You don’t understand,” she said. “We’ve been very worried about Martin, but ever since you were here yesterday, his whole attitude is changed. He’s fighting back and responding to treatment. It’s as though this young man has decided to live.
Martin later explained that he had completely given up hope until he saw the teacher. It all changed when he came to a simple realization. With tears of joy, he told the nurse , “Well, they wouldn’t send a teacher to work on nouns and adverbs with a dying boy, would they?”
The Transfiguration does not call us to be "a light at the end of the tunnel," waiting for people lost in the dark to blunder their way towards us. The church is to take the light of the world, the glory of Christ, boldly into the dark places. There is always a cloud lurking right outside our ring of light. Will we move forward and further towards it, like the teacher did, reaching out with the good news of the gospel?
Jesus is the sun, the Transfgured one, we are only the son beams. We are to live our lives in the light and lead others toward Christ by keeping the light alive.
Let us keep our eyes open for shining moments, for times when sunbeams break through the clouds. Let us see how we can brighten the world for others. Let us refrain from picking up the sunglasses, lest we look away or blink when the power from heavens is made manifest. Let us dare to glare in the lives of others. May we experience our own transfigurations so that our hearts and minds are changed forever. Amen.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
"Stretching Our Faithfulness"
Sermon 02.07.10
“Stretching Our Faithfulness”
“When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.” Left everything. They had a lot to leave.
Recently, a first –century fishing boat was recovered from the mud outside of the sea of Galilee. The shell of the boat is 26.5 feet long, 7.5 wide and 4.5 feet deep. Now I’m not one of those people that can do the math here, but I can tell you that when this boat is full of fish and there’s another boat full of fish and they are both in the process of sinking from the weight of their catch, and that fish is the primarily item on the diet of the people in Jesus’ era, leaving this profession at this particular time to follow a non-fisherman is perfectly nuts. Yet three people were willing to take that chance: Simon, James and John.
The text doesn’t tell us that they brought in the fish, sold the catch, pocketed the money and then followed Jesus. They brought the boats to the shore, got out and left everything. No doubt their wives also thought they were nuts when they went home to dinner that night.
This call story from the gospel of Luke is particularly compelling, because it asks us to stretch our faithfulness in numerous ways.
First, it speaks to the disappointment of the disciples. It has been a terrible day, and they had caught nothing. They were in the process of washing out their nets, cleaning up, ready to call it a day. It meant no income for that day. They had been up all night and were exhausted and wanting to go home.
Jesus was not part of the fishing excursion to begin with; he happens to be preaching on the shore and is overwhelmed with the crowds. Wishing to put a little distance between himself and the throng, he invites himself into Simon Peter’s boat and asks him to sail out a little bit from the land. Notice that Peter doesn’t grumble or whine. He just sets out in response to Jesus’ request.
This is the first response of faithfulness, and many of us might find it familiar. After a full day of work on a paying job, there may still be work to be done after coming home – church committee meetings, PTA or Boy Scout commitments, taking meals to an elderly neighbor, telephoning to check in on an aging parent. Sometimes we’re just not in the mood or feel that we don’t have one more ounce of energy for anyone. But we do it anyway. Our faithfulness to respond to those in need or our volunteer activities is the first lesson from today’s text.
The second call to faithfulness comes when Jesus asks Peter to sail out a little further and put the nets out again. I can imagine him thinking to himself, “But I just cleaned those nets”. When our efforts have been less than fruitful, it’s easy to quit. James and John and Peter have been fishing all night with nothing to show for their efforts. Nada, zip, zero. Why in the world should we go through this torture again, was their unspoken response. I’ll bet that everyone in the congregation has been faced with a hopeless situation at one time or another. Can I get an Amen out there?
You have been disappointed over and over by a child, you have worried about a friend for months and months, you have stayed in a situation that is unhealthy waiting for a different response to happen, you have time and again hoped for something that has eluded you. Jesus says to the disciples. This time will be different. This time I am going to do all the work for you. Many times we work so hard without a consultation with the Master. Too often, we have said, “Here’s my plan, God, now please bless it.”
It is a stretch of faithfulness to let God work out God’s plan for our life, rather than thinking that we have to do it all. And curiously, in today’s text, this miracle has nothing to do with healing lepers or curing paralytics. Jesus justs asks the fisherman to do what they have always done – let out the nets. Only this time, he’s on board the ship. Maybe we need to ask Jesus into our boats.
The last stretch of faithfulness is the hardest – to give everything up. Unlike the fisherman, we are not being asked to give up our normal means of livelihood (unless you happen to be Pastor Karen) and leave our businesses and homes behind. Giving up means relinquishing the control, letting go and letting God, giving your heart over to the gospel message.
It’s like the story of a twelve-year old boy who became a Christian during a revival service. His classmates asked him the following week whether he had seen a vision or whether he had heard God speak to him. He told them no, nothing like that had happened, and so they laughed and asked how he could think of himself as a Christian. He thought for a minute and responded: It’s like when you catch a fish; you can’t see the fish or hear the fish, but you know he’s tugging on your line. I just felt God tugging on my heart.” Faithfulness asks not for proof, and that is why it always requires a stretch.
The good news from Luke’s text is the one heard so frequently in the gospel: Do not be afraid. Jesus tells the disciples that from now on they will be catching men. Quite possibly their wives wanted to know if this new occupation paid any better than the old one. But what Jesus is promising is that he has better things waiting for you if you are willing to trust him with your life. That’s really risky business and requires a final test of faith.
The disciples were not chosen because of their outstanding qualities and they were not called in holy places and circumstances. Like us, they were ordinary people who simply were asked to change their priorities and commitments for a life that required them to leave everything material to gain everything spiritual. Jesus says leave it, all of it. All of the baggage that we drag around, that weighs down the boats and causes us to sink. Let it sit on the shore, Jesus says. You won’t need it for the next journey.
Many years ago, in an African country, it was decided to put a suspension bridge across a wide gorge. No one could imagine the work involved or even how to get started. Someone finally decided to shoot an arrow from one side to the other. The arrow carried across the gulf a tiny thread and thus a connection was established. By and by the thread was used to draw a piece of twine across; the twine carried across with it a small rope; and the rope soon carried a cable across, and in good time came the iron chain that the bridge was to hang from.
Although often weak in the beginning stage, a seemingly small amount of faith can be stretched and made stronger. Jesus calls us to stretch our faithfulness to the limit, but promises to stand with us in the boat. Hear the prayer from an fisherman in Melanesia: O Jesus, be the canoe that holds me up in the sea of life; be the rudder that keeps me in the straight road; be the outrigger that supports me in the time of temptation. Let your spirit be my sail that carries me through each day. Keep my body strong, so that I can paddle steadfastly on in this voyage of life. May we cast our nets out just one more time in the spirit of faithfulness to God’s word. Amen.
“Stretching Our Faithfulness”
“When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.” Left everything. They had a lot to leave.
Recently, a first –century fishing boat was recovered from the mud outside of the sea of Galilee. The shell of the boat is 26.5 feet long, 7.5 wide and 4.5 feet deep. Now I’m not one of those people that can do the math here, but I can tell you that when this boat is full of fish and there’s another boat full of fish and they are both in the process of sinking from the weight of their catch, and that fish is the primarily item on the diet of the people in Jesus’ era, leaving this profession at this particular time to follow a non-fisherman is perfectly nuts. Yet three people were willing to take that chance: Simon, James and John.
The text doesn’t tell us that they brought in the fish, sold the catch, pocketed the money and then followed Jesus. They brought the boats to the shore, got out and left everything. No doubt their wives also thought they were nuts when they went home to dinner that night.
This call story from the gospel of Luke is particularly compelling, because it asks us to stretch our faithfulness in numerous ways.
First, it speaks to the disappointment of the disciples. It has been a terrible day, and they had caught nothing. They were in the process of washing out their nets, cleaning up, ready to call it a day. It meant no income for that day. They had been up all night and were exhausted and wanting to go home.
Jesus was not part of the fishing excursion to begin with; he happens to be preaching on the shore and is overwhelmed with the crowds. Wishing to put a little distance between himself and the throng, he invites himself into Simon Peter’s boat and asks him to sail out a little bit from the land. Notice that Peter doesn’t grumble or whine. He just sets out in response to Jesus’ request.
This is the first response of faithfulness, and many of us might find it familiar. After a full day of work on a paying job, there may still be work to be done after coming home – church committee meetings, PTA or Boy Scout commitments, taking meals to an elderly neighbor, telephoning to check in on an aging parent. Sometimes we’re just not in the mood or feel that we don’t have one more ounce of energy for anyone. But we do it anyway. Our faithfulness to respond to those in need or our volunteer activities is the first lesson from today’s text.
The second call to faithfulness comes when Jesus asks Peter to sail out a little further and put the nets out again. I can imagine him thinking to himself, “But I just cleaned those nets”. When our efforts have been less than fruitful, it’s easy to quit. James and John and Peter have been fishing all night with nothing to show for their efforts. Nada, zip, zero. Why in the world should we go through this torture again, was their unspoken response. I’ll bet that everyone in the congregation has been faced with a hopeless situation at one time or another. Can I get an Amen out there?
You have been disappointed over and over by a child, you have worried about a friend for months and months, you have stayed in a situation that is unhealthy waiting for a different response to happen, you have time and again hoped for something that has eluded you. Jesus says to the disciples. This time will be different. This time I am going to do all the work for you. Many times we work so hard without a consultation with the Master. Too often, we have said, “Here’s my plan, God, now please bless it.”
It is a stretch of faithfulness to let God work out God’s plan for our life, rather than thinking that we have to do it all. And curiously, in today’s text, this miracle has nothing to do with healing lepers or curing paralytics. Jesus justs asks the fisherman to do what they have always done – let out the nets. Only this time, he’s on board the ship. Maybe we need to ask Jesus into our boats.
The last stretch of faithfulness is the hardest – to give everything up. Unlike the fisherman, we are not being asked to give up our normal means of livelihood (unless you happen to be Pastor Karen) and leave our businesses and homes behind. Giving up means relinquishing the control, letting go and letting God, giving your heart over to the gospel message.
It’s like the story of a twelve-year old boy who became a Christian during a revival service. His classmates asked him the following week whether he had seen a vision or whether he had heard God speak to him. He told them no, nothing like that had happened, and so they laughed and asked how he could think of himself as a Christian. He thought for a minute and responded: It’s like when you catch a fish; you can’t see the fish or hear the fish, but you know he’s tugging on your line. I just felt God tugging on my heart.” Faithfulness asks not for proof, and that is why it always requires a stretch.
The good news from Luke’s text is the one heard so frequently in the gospel: Do not be afraid. Jesus tells the disciples that from now on they will be catching men. Quite possibly their wives wanted to know if this new occupation paid any better than the old one. But what Jesus is promising is that he has better things waiting for you if you are willing to trust him with your life. That’s really risky business and requires a final test of faith.
The disciples were not chosen because of their outstanding qualities and they were not called in holy places and circumstances. Like us, they were ordinary people who simply were asked to change their priorities and commitments for a life that required them to leave everything material to gain everything spiritual. Jesus says leave it, all of it. All of the baggage that we drag around, that weighs down the boats and causes us to sink. Let it sit on the shore, Jesus says. You won’t need it for the next journey.
Many years ago, in an African country, it was decided to put a suspension bridge across a wide gorge. No one could imagine the work involved or even how to get started. Someone finally decided to shoot an arrow from one side to the other. The arrow carried across the gulf a tiny thread and thus a connection was established. By and by the thread was used to draw a piece of twine across; the twine carried across with it a small rope; and the rope soon carried a cable across, and in good time came the iron chain that the bridge was to hang from.
Although often weak in the beginning stage, a seemingly small amount of faith can be stretched and made stronger. Jesus calls us to stretch our faithfulness to the limit, but promises to stand with us in the boat. Hear the prayer from an fisherman in Melanesia: O Jesus, be the canoe that holds me up in the sea of life; be the rudder that keeps me in the straight road; be the outrigger that supports me in the time of temptation. Let your spirit be my sail that carries me through each day. Keep my body strong, so that I can paddle steadfastly on in this voyage of life. May we cast our nets out just one more time in the spirit of faithfulness to God’s word. Amen.
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