I teach a Saturday morning men's Bible study on Saturday mornings. We're reading Luke now. When I say "teach", I mean this rather loosely. Though I have been known to hold forth on occasion, for the most part this is a conversation rather than a lecture.
And we do venture off-topic once in awhile. A couple of weeks ago, for example, one of the men brought up an article he had read about one of our more well-known (and conservative) congressional representatives. He said he learned the term "cognitive dissonance" for the first time, discussing the term and the congresswoman with his son. I believe that the issue at hand was that she was against funding for programs from which her family benefitted, as they were parents to several foster children.
Basically, the writer of the article did not understand the Congresswoman, something our table discussed. One of the men ventured this opinion as to why not, "Liberals think that all charity should come from the government."
Now this statement was jarring at first for several reasons: first of all, I was sitting right there, and I consider myself rather liberal, although not in such a way as to insinuate that those not of my political persuasian could not possibly by Christians. And I'm pretty sure that I don't think that "all charity should come from the government." So I wondered why this gentleman should think this way. I do disagree with this gentleman's politics, although I consider him to be (of course) a brother in Christ. I'm sure he does not get this opinion from his conversations with me. I can think of plenty of private charities I endorse and even contribute to.
So, my first thought was, it must be all those conservative authors, the ones with names I won't even mention (why give them any more P.R.?) If he talked to me, he might find out what I really think, which has less to do with ideology (I thought) and more to do with a program's effectiveness. Some people think that a private charity is always more effective; others think that a public/government program is always more effective and appropriate.
Why is it that he might be more interested in his opinions about liberals from conservative authors rather than a real liberal?
Why is it that I might be more interested in getting my opinions about conservatives from entertaining liberal authors rather than a real conservative?
Those were my first thoughts.
Then I went a little further, and considered the word "charity". I also considered, if we really had a deep and respectful conversation with one another, that he and I had different ideas about the line between "charity" and "justice." For example, I think some government help for the poor is really a justice issue, not about charity, because I think that there are many cases where the playing field is not level, and some people start out with a disadvantage, and there are others who definitely start with a big advantage, who benefit from the system the way it is. He might be absolutely certain that anytime there is help for anyone, it is charity, not justice, because justice means that those who work hard get to reap the benefit.
I'm not sure that this is ever a divide that can be fully bridged.
However, the Bible's idea of justice might be a place to start. I suspect this justice (and this mercy) might challenge both of us.
"What does the Lord require of you but to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God."
Friday, February 26, 2010
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
things that make you go hmmmm....
Before I posted a couple of Mondays ago about the ELCA's policy regarding gay and lesbian clergy, I had 73 followers in Google Reader.
The day after I posted, I had 72.
It's not a big deal, it's only one Reader, but still, it gave me pause.
It's February here. Still. Which means that even though it was slushy and warmish for a few days last week, it has dipped below zero again and will be cold all week. I don't know why I am always fooled by the early thaw, but I am. And the older I get, the less patient I am. I want it to be Spring.
We saw a lot of birds yesterday. I didn't get a close look, but I think they might have been mallard ducks. Also, our dog's hair is coming out in tufts. So there are two sure signs that spring will come.
In a couple of weeks, we'll be going to Arizona. In the middle of Lent. I can't believe that I'm doing this. But, I kind of like it.
I have a lot on my mind lately. I want to post more often here, and more deeply, but I often feel that I can't quite get my whole mind around my thoughts.
Here are some of the things I've been thinking about lately:
1. Being in the desert during Lent.
2. The Centered Life- our Lenten Wednesday series.
3. What does it really mean to have a Passionate Spirituality, a la the "Natural Church Development" definition?
4. Why conservatives and liberals prefer to hold on to pre-conceived prejudices rather than talk to each other.
5. just how brilliant Jesus' answers to the devil really were....
6. the big political battle between the governor and the legislature in my state over General Medical Assistance for Poor people. I am wondering if people in other states are following this at all....
The day after I posted, I had 72.
It's not a big deal, it's only one Reader, but still, it gave me pause.
It's February here. Still. Which means that even though it was slushy and warmish for a few days last week, it has dipped below zero again and will be cold all week. I don't know why I am always fooled by the early thaw, but I am. And the older I get, the less patient I am. I want it to be Spring.
We saw a lot of birds yesterday. I didn't get a close look, but I think they might have been mallard ducks. Also, our dog's hair is coming out in tufts. So there are two sure signs that spring will come.
In a couple of weeks, we'll be going to Arizona. In the middle of Lent. I can't believe that I'm doing this. But, I kind of like it.
I have a lot on my mind lately. I want to post more often here, and more deeply, but I often feel that I can't quite get my whole mind around my thoughts.
Here are some of the things I've been thinking about lately:
1. Being in the desert during Lent.
2. The Centered Life- our Lenten Wednesday series.
3. What does it really mean to have a Passionate Spirituality, a la the "Natural Church Development" definition?
4. Why conservatives and liberals prefer to hold on to pre-conceived prejudices rather than talk to each other.
5. just how brilliant Jesus' answers to the devil really were....
6. the big political battle between the governor and the legislature in my state over General Medical Assistance for Poor people. I am wondering if people in other states are following this at all....
Saturday, February 20, 2010
God is Still Creating...
This morning I had six fourth graders and their parents for a class on the Apostles' Creed. It's a lot to cover in an hour and a half, and I think the Holy Spirit got short shrift (she nearly always does), but we had a good time, starting with the name tags.
Everyone wore three name tags. We talked about different names we have, nicknames, roles we take, and how we are not three different people. We talked about different uniforms we sometimes wear at different times, a sports jersey, a school uniform, a suit and tie, a bathing suit. We talked about how God comes to us in different ways, too.
Everybody got an apple, and the parents cut it in half. The young people tried to think about the parts of the apple, and also the different "persons" of God. They got to imagine that God the Father is like the ______ of the apple because_______________. There were no wrong answers, just good imaginations.
Afterwards, we got to eat the apples.
There is a beautiful piece of art in the room where we met, an artistic rendition of the Apostle's Creed. We stood in front of the art piece for awhile, reciting the creed, and talking about some of the words we didn't understand.
We drew pictures of stories from the Bible about Jesus. We each drew a picture of a story about something Jesus did that ISN'T in the creed.
My favorite part of the class, though, just lasting a few minutes, was when we talked about God the father almighty, creator of heaven and earth.
What are some of the things that God created?
bears, snakes, giraffes, flowers, cats, birds.......us.
"Us," one little girl said.
"yes, us," I said. "God didn't just create along time ago. God is still creating, and when you look in the mirror, you can see...."
".....a creation of God."
When you look at a snake, when you look at a bird, when you look at the grass, when you look at a star, when you look at your sister, when you look at your brother,
When you look at yourself, you can see.... a creation of God.
And you know what? It was a sermon to me, too.
Everyone wore three name tags. We talked about different names we have, nicknames, roles we take, and how we are not three different people. We talked about different uniforms we sometimes wear at different times, a sports jersey, a school uniform, a suit and tie, a bathing suit. We talked about how God comes to us in different ways, too.
Everybody got an apple, and the parents cut it in half. The young people tried to think about the parts of the apple, and also the different "persons" of God. They got to imagine that God the Father is like the ______ of the apple because_______________. There were no wrong answers, just good imaginations.
Afterwards, we got to eat the apples.
There is a beautiful piece of art in the room where we met, an artistic rendition of the Apostle's Creed. We stood in front of the art piece for awhile, reciting the creed, and talking about some of the words we didn't understand.
We drew pictures of stories from the Bible about Jesus. We each drew a picture of a story about something Jesus did that ISN'T in the creed.
My favorite part of the class, though, just lasting a few minutes, was when we talked about God the father almighty, creator of heaven and earth.
What are some of the things that God created?
bears, snakes, giraffes, flowers, cats, birds.......us.
"Us," one little girl said.
"yes, us," I said. "God didn't just create along time ago. God is still creating, and when you look in the mirror, you can see...."
".....a creation of God."
When you look at a snake, when you look at a bird, when you look at the grass, when you look at a star, when you look at your sister, when you look at your brother,
When you look at yourself, you can see.... a creation of God.
And you know what? It was a sermon to me, too.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
a Belated Update Regarding Reading
Early in January (while I was still on vacation, to be specific), I reported that I had dispatched my first two books of the year rather quickly, the final Maisie Dobbs mystery, Among the Mad, and The Art of Racing in the Rain.
While lying on the beach, I also read The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop, a lovely book which is a combination memoir and history of bookstores. You would not think that bookstores had a fascinating history. But they do. I also read The Florist's Daughter, by Patricia Hampl. Ms. Hampl is a rather famous (locally) memoirist; this is I think, her best. It is framed by her mother's death, and deals in what is means to be the child of her particular two parents, her Irish mother and her debonair Czech father. This book made me really think about what it would be like to write a memoir of my own. (The TV Repairman's Daughter?)
Then I had a colossal failure: I did not finish reading our January book club book, The Historian, by Elizabeth Kostova. I still feel bad about that. It was slow in places, but after our discussion, I think I will try finishing it, someday. (It's a literate Dracula novel.)
Then I treated myself to the latest Spencer Quinn mystery, Thereby Hangs a Tail.
Finally, I re-read the book we'll be following during Lent: the Centered Life, by Jack Fortin.
I'm working on Nineteen Minutes, by Jodi Picoult, right now.
so. 6 1/2 is my official count, so far.
While lying on the beach, I also read The Yellow-Lighted Bookshop, a lovely book which is a combination memoir and history of bookstores. You would not think that bookstores had a fascinating history. But they do. I also read The Florist's Daughter, by Patricia Hampl. Ms. Hampl is a rather famous (locally) memoirist; this is I think, her best. It is framed by her mother's death, and deals in what is means to be the child of her particular two parents, her Irish mother and her debonair Czech father. This book made me really think about what it would be like to write a memoir of my own. (The TV Repairman's Daughter?)
Then I had a colossal failure: I did not finish reading our January book club book, The Historian, by Elizabeth Kostova. I still feel bad about that. It was slow in places, but after our discussion, I think I will try finishing it, someday. (It's a literate Dracula novel.)
Then I treated myself to the latest Spencer Quinn mystery, Thereby Hangs a Tail.
Finally, I re-read the book we'll be following during Lent: the Centered Life, by Jack Fortin.
I'm working on Nineteen Minutes, by Jodi Picoult, right now.
so. 6 1/2 is my official count, so far.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Taking Out the Garbage as a Lenten Discipline
This morning, Ash Wednesday, when I got up to take the dog out for her morning walk, I realized that we had forgotten to take the garbage out last night.
What a coincidence. This is Ash Wednesday. It is also garbage day.
In the wintertime, taking out the garbage involves a few more steps than it does at other seasons of the year. For one thing, I often have to kick the garbage can a couple of times because the lid freezes shut. We also have to wheel the garbage can through the snow past one or two cars parked in the driveway. I have become an expert at the graceful "swoop" down as I wheel the can past the rear view mirror.
This morning, I spent a little extra time going through bags, deciding what else could be "garbage" and what I might want to save. There are a few things that are clearly useless. There are a few things that "might come in handy." There are a few things that should not ever be considered garbage.
So, this morning, as I was kicking the garbage can to loosen the lid, and as I was sorting stuff and considering what was valuable and what was not, I considered as well that this was Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent.
What would be a good Lenten discipline this year?
One friend of mine has an exercise plan in place. It sounds guaranteed to change her life, or at least help her lose a few pounds. A teenager I know always gave up soda. Another friend refrains from chocolate. One year I gave up buying (not reading, just buying) books. The Mayo
Clinic Diet book, which I recently bought, sounds positively Lenten to me these days. The very beginning pages tell about 5 New Habits to Develop and 5 Habits to Drop. Sounds exactly like the twin disciplines of Lent: giving up something (fasting), and taking up something.
And yet, I can't help thinking about taking out the garbage as a Lenten discpline, starting at the beginning, with kicking the can. Sometimes you have to do that, you know. Sometimes your life is just frozen shut, and nothing new can happen unless you kick it a couple of times.
Then the discernment begins; what is valuable in my life, and what is "garbage"? What things "might come in handy someday" and why do I think so? Is it true? Where does the true value of my life lie? And in the midst of it all, I remember these words:
"Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."
During Lent this year, I will throw away, or somehow get rid of, one thing every day.
I'll let you know, occasionally, how it's going.
How about you?
What a coincidence. This is Ash Wednesday. It is also garbage day.
In the wintertime, taking out the garbage involves a few more steps than it does at other seasons of the year. For one thing, I often have to kick the garbage can a couple of times because the lid freezes shut. We also have to wheel the garbage can through the snow past one or two cars parked in the driveway. I have become an expert at the graceful "swoop" down as I wheel the can past the rear view mirror.
This morning, I spent a little extra time going through bags, deciding what else could be "garbage" and what I might want to save. There are a few things that are clearly useless. There are a few things that "might come in handy." There are a few things that should not ever be considered garbage.
So, this morning, as I was kicking the garbage can to loosen the lid, and as I was sorting stuff and considering what was valuable and what was not, I considered as well that this was Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent.
What would be a good Lenten discipline this year?
One friend of mine has an exercise plan in place. It sounds guaranteed to change her life, or at least help her lose a few pounds. A teenager I know always gave up soda. Another friend refrains from chocolate. One year I gave up buying (not reading, just buying) books. The Mayo
Clinic Diet book, which I recently bought, sounds positively Lenten to me these days. The very beginning pages tell about 5 New Habits to Develop and 5 Habits to Drop. Sounds exactly like the twin disciplines of Lent: giving up something (fasting), and taking up something.
And yet, I can't help thinking about taking out the garbage as a Lenten discpline, starting at the beginning, with kicking the can. Sometimes you have to do that, you know. Sometimes your life is just frozen shut, and nothing new can happen unless you kick it a couple of times.
Then the discernment begins; what is valuable in my life, and what is "garbage"? What things "might come in handy someday" and why do I think so? Is it true? Where does the true value of my life lie? And in the midst of it all, I remember these words:
"Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return."
During Lent this year, I will throw away, or somehow get rid of, one thing every day.
I'll let you know, occasionally, how it's going.
How about you?
Sunday, February 14, 2010
A Dog I Love
This picture is not Scout. No, this picture is of a dog with, I think, an eerie resemblance to Scout. Her name is Pink, and she is a lab-husky mix. Notice how one of her ears stays up and the other one flops down?
Pink belongs to the trainer who I believed "saved" Scout. As many of you know, when Scout was a puppy she had aggression problems. She was possessive of her food bowl and also of items that she "stole." She even bit me once. We took Scout to the Humane Society, and to many different kinds of training. I was very worried that we couldn't manage this behavior when Scout grew up, we would not be able to keep her, because she wouldn't be safe. When we went to Maureen, she gave us some training so that we could be better leaders. And she wouldn't give up. And although Scout is not perfect (and this is more our deficiency than it is hers), she does not protect or guard items any more.
The first time Maureen met Scout, she told me I needed to go to her website and look at Pink. I did, and thought they could be sisters. They are the same age. Scout used to board with Maureen every once in awhile, and so go to know Pink as well.
I just found out that Pink, this beautiful dog, the same age as Scout, has Stage V Lymphoma.
Please keep Pink and her people in your prayers.
I've learned so much from them. I can't even tell you how much right now.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Sunday Sermon
--draft--
“Holding On to the Glory”
Luke 9:28-43, mostly
Dear friends in Christ, grace to you and peace from God our creator...
I don’t know how many of you watched the Super Bowl last week. I didn’t, not even the commercials, but I’ve been intrigued by a story I’ve heard since then. It’s a story about the team’s coach, Sean Payton, and about how he slept with the Vince Lombardi trophy next to him on Sunday night, after the victory. He said he rolled over it a couple of times, probably drooled on it. But that’s ok. “There’s nothing like it.” And who can blame him? The Saints had never even been to a Superbowl before, much less won one. Who can blame him for wanting to hold on to the trophy, hold on to the glory, for just a little while. I have friends who live in the New Orleans areas as well, and they were saying how much the victory meant to them, to this place which had experienced so much death and destruction. “It’s not just a football game,” they said. “It’s a sign – it’s a sign of the re-birth of our city.” And who can blame them for wanting to hold on to the glory, hold on to the glory for just a little while longer?
Who can blame him? That’s a question I ask about Peter, as well, Peter who is so taken with the sight of the glory of Jesus, standing there with Moses and Elijah. Who can blame him for wanting to build three dwellings for them? “There’s nothing like this,” he seems to be saying. “This is it! We’ve arrived! And it’s good for us to be here.” He just wanted to hold on to the glory of the moment, the moment when Jesus’ face shone, and when he was speaking to the great patriarchs of the faith– speaking about his upcoming journey to Jerusalem. He just wanted to hold on to the glory – and perhaps he was thinking (like the people of New Orleans) “This is a sign from God! This is a sign of victory! We are winners!” And who can blame him? After all, Peter is a poor fisherman, living as a Jew in the Roman Empire. Most of the time he does not feel glorious, or important at all. And he’s staking all of his hopes on Jesus, this carpenter, this healer, this preacher – and for a moment, there it is, the glorious truth. Jesus is the Messiah. And he wants to stay in this moment forever.
Who can blame us – on this day, if we just want to hold on to the glory? It’s true of all of us, isn’t it? Whether our glory days were just yesterday, or whether they were decades ago, we all want to hold on to the glory. We want to look at those pictures of us when we were young, and say, “That’s the real me, not the one that I look at in the mirror every morning – and I’m getting older.” We want to hold on to the images of the time we graduated with Honors, that contest we won, that speech that we gave, the award-winning chocolate cake we baked. We think back to the time when we were the biggest church in town, or when our denomination had a lot of clout. And who can blame us – if we want to hang on to the glory? Who can blame us? For it’s a sign – isn’t it – that we are winners, really, deep down inside, even if right now we can’t see it and right now we don’t feel like it. We’re winners. We want to hang on to the glory.
But what happens? What happens on the mountain there when Jesus shines and Peter wants to stay? It’s a moment of glory, but almost as soon as they figure it out, they are overwhelmed by a cloud, they hear God’s voice: (This is my son.... Listen to him!) (I think it’s so interesting that Jesus does NOT say “look at him” but “Listen to him”). And Jesus is alone. The three patriarchs are gone and Jesus is not shining any more.
And then what happens? They go back down the mountain, back down the mountain and the first thing that happens to them is LIFE. The first thing that happens to them is a child possessed by a spirit, and this seems to be a particularly difficult case. The disciples can’t cast it out, which makes Jesus sigh and wonder if people will ever ever get it. You can see why they wanted to stay on the mountain even more now, can’t you? They go down from the mountain where everything was clear and they KNEW Jesus was the Messiah, to a place where there were people who were hungry, people who were dying, people who were sick, people who needed good news, people who needed healing, people who needed to be set free from evil and sin and oppression. And they were responsible, and sometimes they failed. That’s what happened. And I’m sure when that happened they were more than tempted to wonder if the glory on the mountain was just a mirage, if they had been asleep and dreamed it.
But here’s also what happened down in the valley: The child was healed, despite the disciples’ failure, and “they were all astounded at the greatness of God.” Up on the mountain, with the shining – no one was saying that, because the only ones who saw the vision were Peter, James and John. Sure it was a vision, but it was a private vision, and no one else but them saw it. But after they came down, and met the awful reality of life, the brokenness, grief, fear – and Jesus healed it – ah! Then, there began transfiguration, there began the transformation – not just the transfiguration of Jesus, but the transformation the boy who was healed, and the transfiguration of the disciples – “from one degree of glory into another,” as Paul writes in 2 Corinthians. “And all were astounded by the greatness of God.”
Don’t get me wrong, the shining is true: it’s a glimpse of the victory of Jesus, the one who was crucified, but lives. It’s a glimpse of his life, his resurrected life, that they saw. It was a true sign, a sign of the truth; the one who was crucified lives. But when the disciples listened to the voice of Jesus, went down the mountain, tried to heal the boy but couldn’t, somehow in that mess, in that mess, which everyone saw, “all were astounded by the greatness of God.” They had to be willing to fail, and fail big, but in the process they were being transformed, bit by bit, degree by degree, into the image of Jesus, into people who also healed and spoke and set free captives, who brought hope and lifted hope and lifted others up.
Pastor Heidi Neumark served as the pastor of a church in the South Bronx, called – appropriately enough “Transfiguration Lutheran Church.” They were a mission congregation back in the 1920s, I believe, and had once flourished with immigrants from Puerto Rico. But those glory days were well behind them when pastor Neumark arrived. There were just a few people left in the congregation in those days, and they kept their doors closed and locked most of the time, fearful of the problems and pains of the community. But somehow, they listened to the voice of Jesus, and they began to open the doors and go out into the world, go out into the community, bearing nothing but Jesus’ love. And The church was transfigured, re-born, by this experience, “and all were astounded by the greatness of god.” It’s true. But let me tell you, this was not an instant happening. Pastor Neumark served as Transfiguration for 20 years. Loving and serving and showing Jesus to the community was hard work, and I’m sure they failed a lot. But in so doing they also showed forth the face of God in their community. They showed the heart of God to their community.
Who can blame us for wanting to hold on to the glory? But when we come down from the mountain, Jesus is still with us – his power, his healing, most of all his love. Jesus is still with us. We follow him, though his face no longer shines, and his clothes no longer dazzle. We follow him as he sets his face toward Jerusalem. He is determined to heal, to embrace, to love – the whole world.
And we can’t hold on to the glory, but the truth is that the glory holds on to us. Jesus in his suffering love, Jesus in his healing love, Jesus in his forgiving love holds on to us, surrounds us, and lifts us up. So we too are being transformed, one degree at a time, into his image. We are being transformed, so that, as we go out, and even in our failures, God is working through us, the glory of God is shining through us.... “and all were astounded by the greatness of God.”
AMEN
“Holding On to the Glory”
Luke 9:28-43, mostly
Dear friends in Christ, grace to you and peace from God our creator...
I don’t know how many of you watched the Super Bowl last week. I didn’t, not even the commercials, but I’ve been intrigued by a story I’ve heard since then. It’s a story about the team’s coach, Sean Payton, and about how he slept with the Vince Lombardi trophy next to him on Sunday night, after the victory. He said he rolled over it a couple of times, probably drooled on it. But that’s ok. “There’s nothing like it.” And who can blame him? The Saints had never even been to a Superbowl before, much less won one. Who can blame him for wanting to hold on to the trophy, hold on to the glory, for just a little while. I have friends who live in the New Orleans areas as well, and they were saying how much the victory meant to them, to this place which had experienced so much death and destruction. “It’s not just a football game,” they said. “It’s a sign – it’s a sign of the re-birth of our city.” And who can blame them for wanting to hold on to the glory, hold on to the glory for just a little while longer?
Who can blame him? That’s a question I ask about Peter, as well, Peter who is so taken with the sight of the glory of Jesus, standing there with Moses and Elijah. Who can blame him for wanting to build three dwellings for them? “There’s nothing like this,” he seems to be saying. “This is it! We’ve arrived! And it’s good for us to be here.” He just wanted to hold on to the glory of the moment, the moment when Jesus’ face shone, and when he was speaking to the great patriarchs of the faith– speaking about his upcoming journey to Jerusalem. He just wanted to hold on to the glory – and perhaps he was thinking (like the people of New Orleans) “This is a sign from God! This is a sign of victory! We are winners!” And who can blame him? After all, Peter is a poor fisherman, living as a Jew in the Roman Empire. Most of the time he does not feel glorious, or important at all. And he’s staking all of his hopes on Jesus, this carpenter, this healer, this preacher – and for a moment, there it is, the glorious truth. Jesus is the Messiah. And he wants to stay in this moment forever.
Who can blame us – on this day, if we just want to hold on to the glory? It’s true of all of us, isn’t it? Whether our glory days were just yesterday, or whether they were decades ago, we all want to hold on to the glory. We want to look at those pictures of us when we were young, and say, “That’s the real me, not the one that I look at in the mirror every morning – and I’m getting older.” We want to hold on to the images of the time we graduated with Honors, that contest we won, that speech that we gave, the award-winning chocolate cake we baked. We think back to the time when we were the biggest church in town, or when our denomination had a lot of clout. And who can blame us – if we want to hang on to the glory? Who can blame us? For it’s a sign – isn’t it – that we are winners, really, deep down inside, even if right now we can’t see it and right now we don’t feel like it. We’re winners. We want to hang on to the glory.
But what happens? What happens on the mountain there when Jesus shines and Peter wants to stay? It’s a moment of glory, but almost as soon as they figure it out, they are overwhelmed by a cloud, they hear God’s voice: (This is my son.... Listen to him!) (I think it’s so interesting that Jesus does NOT say “look at him” but “Listen to him”). And Jesus is alone. The three patriarchs are gone and Jesus is not shining any more.
And then what happens? They go back down the mountain, back down the mountain and the first thing that happens to them is LIFE. The first thing that happens to them is a child possessed by a spirit, and this seems to be a particularly difficult case. The disciples can’t cast it out, which makes Jesus sigh and wonder if people will ever ever get it. You can see why they wanted to stay on the mountain even more now, can’t you? They go down from the mountain where everything was clear and they KNEW Jesus was the Messiah, to a place where there were people who were hungry, people who were dying, people who were sick, people who needed good news, people who needed healing, people who needed to be set free from evil and sin and oppression. And they were responsible, and sometimes they failed. That’s what happened. And I’m sure when that happened they were more than tempted to wonder if the glory on the mountain was just a mirage, if they had been asleep and dreamed it.
But here’s also what happened down in the valley: The child was healed, despite the disciples’ failure, and “they were all astounded at the greatness of God.” Up on the mountain, with the shining – no one was saying that, because the only ones who saw the vision were Peter, James and John. Sure it was a vision, but it was a private vision, and no one else but them saw it. But after they came down, and met the awful reality of life, the brokenness, grief, fear – and Jesus healed it – ah! Then, there began transfiguration, there began the transformation – not just the transfiguration of Jesus, but the transformation the boy who was healed, and the transfiguration of the disciples – “from one degree of glory into another,” as Paul writes in 2 Corinthians. “And all were astounded by the greatness of God.”
Don’t get me wrong, the shining is true: it’s a glimpse of the victory of Jesus, the one who was crucified, but lives. It’s a glimpse of his life, his resurrected life, that they saw. It was a true sign, a sign of the truth; the one who was crucified lives. But when the disciples listened to the voice of Jesus, went down the mountain, tried to heal the boy but couldn’t, somehow in that mess, in that mess, which everyone saw, “all were astounded by the greatness of God.” They had to be willing to fail, and fail big, but in the process they were being transformed, bit by bit, degree by degree, into the image of Jesus, into people who also healed and spoke and set free captives, who brought hope and lifted hope and lifted others up.
Pastor Heidi Neumark served as the pastor of a church in the South Bronx, called – appropriately enough “Transfiguration Lutheran Church.” They were a mission congregation back in the 1920s, I believe, and had once flourished with immigrants from Puerto Rico. But those glory days were well behind them when pastor Neumark arrived. There were just a few people left in the congregation in those days, and they kept their doors closed and locked most of the time, fearful of the problems and pains of the community. But somehow, they listened to the voice of Jesus, and they began to open the doors and go out into the world, go out into the community, bearing nothing but Jesus’ love. And The church was transfigured, re-born, by this experience, “and all were astounded by the greatness of god.” It’s true. But let me tell you, this was not an instant happening. Pastor Neumark served as Transfiguration for 20 years. Loving and serving and showing Jesus to the community was hard work, and I’m sure they failed a lot. But in so doing they also showed forth the face of God in their community. They showed the heart of God to their community.
Who can blame us for wanting to hold on to the glory? But when we come down from the mountain, Jesus is still with us – his power, his healing, most of all his love. Jesus is still with us. We follow him, though his face no longer shines, and his clothes no longer dazzle. We follow him as he sets his face toward Jerusalem. He is determined to heal, to embrace, to love – the whole world.
And we can’t hold on to the glory, but the truth is that the glory holds on to us. Jesus in his suffering love, Jesus in his healing love, Jesus in his forgiving love holds on to us, surrounds us, and lifts us up. So we too are being transformed, one degree at a time, into his image. We are being transformed, so that, as we go out, and even in our failures, God is working through us, the glory of God is shining through us.... “and all were astounded by the greatness of God.”
AMEN
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