Sunday, February 23, 2020

The Transfiguration


Matthew 17:1-9

 

        I have preached 39 sermons on The Transfiguration. I have nothing else to say on this text mainly because I have said nothing new on this text in 39 years. A friend of mine shared she didn’t like the text because it talks about going up on a mountain and having a heavenly vision. Since she has never had such an experience this story makes her question her ability to revel in the mysteries of faith. I am not sure of the logic of such a statement but I told her to preach on Exodus. Why should her congregation suffer through a sermon Liz has no zeal to write?

        You are probably wondering the same thing. This will be the ninth sermon on the Transfiguration I have preached from this pulpit. Raise your hand if you remember any of the previous eight. That’s what I figured. How can such a memorable text become so forgettable?

        The Book of Matthew was written nearly 50 years after the death of Jesus. The person who wrote this gospel was not the tax collector turned disciple whose name the book bears. Truth is we have no idea who wrote this gospel. Much of what we find is an embellishment of the Gospel Mark, written twenty years earlier. We have no idea who wrote Mark either. After 2,000 years it hardly matters. What we do know is four distinctively different gospels were written with one specific goal in mind. The earliest theologian of the Christian Church was Paul. He did a marvelous job of interpreting the teachings of Jesus. Some might suggest he even did some elaboration along the way. What Paul did not do was tell the story of Jesus. In Pauline literature there is no mention of the parables. Paul does not speak of the heritage or birth of Jesus. Paul proclaims the death. He interprets the resurrection but he says little about the life of this man called Jesus. Inquiring minds wanted to know. The writers of Mark, John, Matthew, and Luke took it upon themselves to tell the story of Jesus to a people thirsting for details about this Judean they now claimed as their Lord. Their stories are different. The details on similar stories are often in conflict. Each explains the crucifixion and the resurrection from a radically different point of view. One story Matthew, Mark, and Luke al agreed on is this strange story that none of us can seem to remember.

        Jesus and three disciples went to the mountaintop. In this vision, dream, or piece of literary imagination, the readers of the synoptic gospels are given an incredible clue.  Jesus is greater than Moses and Elijah combined.

        Ever been to the mountaintop? Stuff happens up there we rarely experience down here in the valley. Going up the mountain is no place to go if you just want to confirm what you already believe. Going up the mountain is no place to venture if you are overcome by fear. Mountaintop experiences are hindered if we lack imagination. But then why climb the trail if you are convinced there is nothing new worth discovering?

        Some of you may remember the story I am about to tell but I feel it is worth sharing one more time. When I was younger, and had longer hair, I was often asked to lead retreats for young people. One such gathering happened at a Junior High Presbytery retreat deep in heart of Big Bend. 70 or more 12-14 year old gathered near Ft. Davis, Texas with me, some additional adult leadership and ten high school kids who made up the Presbytery Youth Council. The theme of the retreat was Imagining God. Behind the ranch was a hill not quite big enough to be called a mountain. On a clear day it took about twenty minutes to reach the top. That evening I dazzled the kids with songs, role plays and small group activities. Then I announced we were going up the mountain to see God. It was now pitch dark but I had prearranged for the Sr. High youth to hike up the mountain and mark the trail with flashlights. I asked the Jr. High kids to pair up and follow one of the high school kids. I was instantly besieged by the adults.

        “You can’t take kids up the mountain in the dark.”

        “Somebody will fall.”

        “Some of them will be afraid.”

        “We don’t have insurance for this.”

        “I am not taking my group.”

 

        I said to them, “You can stay here if you want, but some of your kids have already started the climb. You don’t have to go but trust me, your kids will be safe.”

        70 Junior High kids started up the mountain. Four or five adults stayed at the camp. There were four or five others cautiously started up the trail. They complained all the way up. Thirty minutes later we were all at the top.

        The noise was overwhelming. Look up the definition of chaos in a dictionary and it will be accompanied by a picture of 70 Jr. High kids. Somehow I managed get their attention. My first command was to turn off flash lights. That was a mistake. They all screamed. I held my flashlight under my chin until they all calmed down. An adult behind me helpfully remarked, “Well this is a disaster.” Having gone too far to turn back I said, “I am going to share a word from the Psalms. Then I want you to quietly look into the sky.” I turned off the flashlight and of course some kids screamed. When they calmed down I said, “My God, how majestic is Your handiwork. When I look at the heavens, the work of your fingers, who am I?” Then I said, “Look at the stars and the moon for 30 seconds.”

        That lasted for about five seconds before bedlam broke out. I turned my light on a second time. When calm was restored I turned off the light and said “My God, how majestic is your handiwork.” Again someone hollered only this time a fellow traveler said, “Shut up. Look at the stars.”

        30 seconds turned into a minute. One minute turned into five. Silence, magnificent silence became so loud it was deafening. I had other stuff planned but God had taken over. We were transfigured. All I could say was, “Amen”.

I instructed the kids, when they were ready, to quietly climb down the mountain without the help of flash lights. The stars and the moon were shining so brightly no other assistance was needed. When we safely and quietly reached the bottom I gathered the group around me said, “Across the field a bonfire will soon be been lit. Pair off, walk toward the fire, and talk about what you saw.”

        On the walk across the field three or four adults asked to have a word with me. They were still fuming. None of them had climbed the hill. None of them had experience the transformation. None of them could possible understand what had happened. As I walked toward the fire I said, “Ask your kids what they saw.”    (stop)

For most of us Transfiguration Sunday is just a little too bizarre. Did those disciples really see Moses and Elijah? Maybe the writers of the gospels made up some fantastic tale in order to make a point? It no longer matters to me. One dark night in West Texas me and a bunch of young friends discovered hanging out with God was never meant to be rational, or explainable, or even safe. In the midst of chaos, we saw the light.                                Amen

Sunday, February 16, 2020

Created in the Image of God


Matthew 5:21-27; Deuteronomy 30:15-20

 

        I was blessed to be born into a family with two exceptional parents. So much of who I am was learned at the feet of those two saints. Dad put a baseball in my hand and a love for music in my ear. Mom exhibited patience and selflessness in ways I never recognized until later in life. Both surrounded themselves with books which became my gateway to worlds I could only imagine. 359 days out of the year I loved my parents.  But as you know most years of the Gregorian calendar contain six additional days.

        My Jr. and Sr. High  School operated on a two semester system divided into six week periods.  At the end of each six weeks a report card was sent home. I was a well rounded student. I loved anything round I could throw, hit, bounce, or serve. My parents appreciated that I always aced PE. They would have preferred similar effort in the other disciplines.

        The routine always went something like this. I would go to my father’s study and hand him my less than perfect results. He would slowly bring his hand to his chin, rub his face and then with incredible calmness say, “Son, do you honestly believe this was the best you could do?”

Trust me.  Both of us knew this was not a question.

When I read the latter part of the 5th chapter of Matthew I feel as if Jesus is asking the same question to his disciples. Let’s quickly retrace the last two weeks. Jesus begins by lifting the spirits and dreams of his followers. “You will be blest when you mourn. You will be blest when you thirst for righteousness. You will be blest when you practice peacemaking. You will be blest when people say awful things about you. Have the courage to love folks and lift them up and God will insure your happiness.”

Then Jesus upped the ante. “You will be a light on a hill. You will set an example for everyone around you. The way you live and the way you treat both your friends and enemies will be commendable. People will be inspired by your moral courage. Go and show folks how to be a child of God.”

I can’t tell you how good those disciples must have felt. They started high fiving each other and exclaiming, “We got this. Let’s get down the mountain and start spreading the gospel message. We Are Number One.”

Well I guess Jesus and the disciples had been together about six weeks because before they could hustle down the mountain Jesus pulled out their report cards.

“Peter, did you know that anyone who commits a murder will be liable to judgment?”

“Yes I do. I think that’s fair. If you commit the crime you need to do the time.”

“Now Peter, to the best of my knowledge you haven’t killed anyone but occasionally your anger seems to be a bit over the top. I know you think it is righteous anger but it sounds a bit self-righteous to me. You are killing them with your mouth. Is this the best you can do?”

Then Jesus turned to James. “Jimmy, no one is accusing you of committing adultery but we all see the way you look at some of the women in crowd. Would you want someone glaring like that at your sister? Women are not objects for our amusement. They are a gift from God. Is this the best you can do?

Finally Jesus spoke to all the disciples. “Your word is sacred. I know you think gossip is inconsequential because everyone does it. Well it’s not insignificant to the person you are talking about. It is hurtful. Speak the truth but don’t exaggerate. Speak the truth, but don’t expand. Don’t even lie for a noble cause. Speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

The report cards had come out. The disciples knew they had not met the expectations of their Lord. Their bubble had been burst. Some were probably thinking this was the time to pack up and head back to their former lives. Jesus then confused them even more when he said. “Be perfect, just as your Heavenly Father is perfect.”

Sometimes I believe our greatest fault is setting our expectations too low. Our immediate answer to Jesus is, “Be serious! No one is perfect. Just by claiming perfection I expose my imperfections.”

Have you ever heard the phrase Imago Dei?  It is theological jargon which means the image of God. The Christmas stories are image of God events in which Luke and Matthew claim Jesus’ sacred birthright. The Gospel of John is a little more subtle, “The Word became God.” We are comfortable speaking of Jesus being in the image of God, but what about us? Aren’t we excluded from perfection? Jesus didn’t think so. Neither did the writer of Deuteronomy. Listen again to the words you heard earlier. “I have set before you life and death. Choose life that you might live.”

The writer of Deuteronomy believed in a God who valued the ability to choose. The story of Egypt and the wilderness is a wonderful example of the consistent ability of God’s righteousness choices. The story begins with a people in slavery who had forgotten the God of their ancestors. But God had not forgotten Israel. An abandoned people were not rescued because of their faith but rather because of the faithfulness of God. They were chosen as we are chosen. The children of Israel hesitated at the Red Sea because fear paralyzes dreams. But God showed them a way through the water. The wanderers hesitated in the desert, desiring slavery over freedom. God did not to give up on them. The people turned to idols even as the laws of God are being presented. But the rejected God would not reject the unfaithful. Every two steps toward the Promised Land were followed by a step backward. Then, with the Jordan River so close they could smell the sweet water, the descendents of Abraham were asked, “Will you choose life? Will you choose God? Will you strive for perfection?” The people hesitated and responded, “How is that possible?” The answer they received was, “Anything is possible. You are created in the image of God.”

When Jesus chose the 12 disciples he was choosing 12 people already chosen by God. Their potential was unlimited. They just didn’t know it.

We are no different. Because we have been created in the image of God nothing less than perfection is expected. We make excuses, just like the children of Israel. We are captivated by fears, just like the children of Israel. We put creature comforts ahead of ethics, just like the children of Israel. We stumble and bumble through life, just like the children of Israel. And God still responds by first, never giving up on us and second, never lowering the bar of God’s moral expectations.

Do we honestly believe we are doing the best we can do? Maybe the better question is do we really believe we are created in the image of God. If so, then the expectations and the possibilities are endless.  

To God be the glory. Amen.

Sunday, February 9, 2020

To See the Stars, Darkness is Necessary


Matthew 5:14-16; Isaiah 58:6-9

To See the Stars, Darkness is Necessary

 

        Two weeks ago there was a congregational meeting where you heard our yearly statistical report. This is a form our clerk and treasurer faithfully fill out each year and send to the Presbytery of the James. Someone in Richmond notes the form has been completed and forwards the results to the main office of the Presbyterian Church. In Louisville another person compiles approximately 9,900 forms, one from each church, and places the numbers in a form made public to anyone interested. Each form is secured in a vault where it remains safely guarded until the Second Coming. That piece of paper defines who we are in terms of membership and financial giving. Our numbers are good. Numerically, we are the second largest church in our Presbytery not located in Richmond, Charlottesville, or Fredericksburg. Our mission giving exceeds churches three and four times larger than us. Our budget compares with churches twice our size. The Presbytery has reviewed our statistical report and declared us to be a healthy, relevant congregation.  But does a little piece of paper actually define who we are?

One day Jesus went into the hills to have a conversation with his disciples. The thirteen men did not go alone. Many folks from surrounding communities followed. This created an interesting situation. Jesus spoke intimately with his disciples. Being soft spoken, his words didn’t carry very far. When the disciples heard “You are the light of the world”, they knew Jesus was speaking directly to them. They also knew Jesus desired the crowd behind them to become the recipients of that light.

Some churches clamor to be defined by numbers in worship and dollars in the plate. But how many churches are willing to become a light to their community?

        The scary truth is if insanity is defined as doing the same thing over and over and over again then a whole lot of churches should be committed. On my recent trip to The United Kingdom I noticed the ritual of worship hasn’t changed very much since Henry VIII was king. That is wonderful if you are 80 and have recited The Apostle’s Creed and sang Blessed Assurance since before your tenth birthday. The creeds, old songs, even scripture can become a sacrament to the familiar with little meaning, no challenge, and hardly any possibility of granting assurance to someone who stands in darkness.  People ask, “Why don’t young people go to church anymore?” It might be few churches offer anything unique to brighten their darkness.

        But there is good news. If there ever was a place which can claim to be a light in the midst of darkness it might be Rockfish. Wednesday morning I received multiple phone calls from strangers. The first made me aware that folks actually do read the Blue Ridge Life Magazine. A lady was calling about wood. I don’t know if she had wood to share or needed wood to burn but it hardly matters. I gave her Sam’s number and I celebrated we are known as the place that delivers, “Compassion by the Cord.”

        A second call came from an unknown person who lives in our neighborhood. She was curious if our cemetery lots were open to folks outside the congregation. I gave her Diana Rockwell’s number and didn’t give the conversation a second thought. Later that day I spotted Diana at the church with the woman with whom I had spoken earlier. Her mother is dying. Diana took time to calm the woman by assuring her we would provide a final resting place and words of comfort when the time was appropriate. Once again, in the midst of darkness, this church provided light.

        A third call resumed a conversation started over a year ago. We have an on-going relationship with Head Start. Through food and parties we are in touch with many of the Head Start families.  Back in 2018 we offered some space for a Head Start office but nothing developed. This week those negotiations will start again. Why our church? I was given two reasons. We are close to the elementary school and the Head Start kids think Rockfish Presbyterian is where Santa Claus lives.

        What do we get out of delivering wood, opening up our cemetery, and offering occasional office space? Another tube of Ben Gay, another burial of someone we don’t know, and a few more kids to eat cookies at the Christmas Party. If you think that is a pretty low rationale for being a light in this valley, consider these words by Annie Dillard.  “To see the stars, darkness is necessary.” 

Darkness comes in many forms. In a painful song John Prine observes, “There are a lot of folks are sitting just inside their door waiting for someone to say hello.” Dropping by without notice to visit someone you hardly know seems a bit irregular, almost presumptuous.  A ministerial mentor of mine once observed, “If you call ahead you will end up spending a lot of time in your office. Sometimes people just don’t know how lonely they are.”

        Darkness comes in the midst of illness or death. Few of us worked in the medical field and the last time I checked, none of us are God. What can we offer a family is overwhelmed by cancer or heart disease? You might be surprised. I have observed folks have a hard time asking for help. Yet it is nice to have a meal in the freezer or a friend helping with that drive to Charlottesville.

        Darkness comes from anger. If you haven’t noticed the world is a pretty irritated place right now. Taking sides and putting swords in the sand have become a regular response to that anger. Most second and fourth Sundays some pretty brave folks gather at the Brewing Tree to have a conversation. We hardly agree on anything. Truth is the only thing we agree on is when someone is speaking, the rest of us not only have to listen, we have to acknowledge the person’s right to hold a dissenting view. One of the reasons I love preaching is it is a monologue. Not much light to be found unless you agree with me. At the Brewing Tree we engage in a healthy, respectful dialogue. It could be the alcohol, but I think something good is happening there.

        Darkness comes from not being recognized. I keep coming back to the question, “Where are the kids on Sunday morning?” You might not believe how many young folks claim this to be their church. We know they come when the children’s food baskets need to be filled. But where are they the rest of the time? You might be surprised.  They are learning about and working toward sustaining the earth. They are putting together relief baskets for refugee families. They are caring for abused animals. They are leaders in their schools. And yes, they are probably sleeping in on Sunday Morning. Have you ever consider they might be a light in our darkness? Have you ever imagined they are patiently waiting to be asked teach to us how to do some new things? They celebrate the love and vision of God in ways that leave us clueless. They can’t recite a creed and probably never learned Blessed Assurance, but when in their midst I am overwhelmed by their energy and joy.

        The truth is it is fairly easy to recognize that folks in pain, folks who are lonely, and especially folks who have turned a deaf ear to others, are immersed in darkness. It is a lot harder to recognize my own shadows.  Cemented in a routine solidified by ancient customs and rituals, sometimes I slide down the hill and find comfort among the crowd.  When I look up, I see Jesus standing on a rock. His lips are moving but I can’t understand his words. I turn to a child and cry out, “What’s he saying?”

         “He is paraphrasing Isaiah 58. You are a light to the world when you break bread with the hungry, clothe the naked, house the homeless, and care for my earth.”

Then child starts walking down the hill.

        “Where are you going? I can’t hear his words.”    

        The child responds, “I am going to be a light to someone.  Care to join me?”

                                                To God be the Glory.  Amen.      

       

Sunday, February 2, 2020

Inspiring Moral Imagination


Matthew 5:1-12

Inspiring Moral Imagination

 

        I have a hard time understanding Millennials. If you are unfamiliar with the term, this includes folks born between the years 1980 and 2000. There is nothing wrong with Millennials. They just approach life differently. When I was a kid playing sports I was inspired by coaches who ate nails for breakfast. There was no substitute for winning. The formulae for success was out-working and out-sweating your opponent. Today I attend athletic events where Millennial parents hug their children and say, “Way to go Buddy. You did your best.” My Millennial children are wonderful parents and a whole lot nicer than I ever was. Yet I am still bothered that I have a grandson whose favorite part of any athletic endeavor is the snacks at the end of the game.

        I am convinced when preaching the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus was speaking to a bunch of Millennials. Ever take a close look at the Beatitudes? They are just a candy coated version of the Ten Commandments. Back in our day we loved the authoritative message of those principled decrees. We went around nailing them up the 10 Commandments in churches, schools, and Court House. We wanted everyone to know what you should not do! Admittedly, our version has swayed a bit from the original.

DO NOT worship more than one God.

DO NOT wear anything but a cross around your neck.

DO NOT mention God and damn in the same sentence.

DO NOT go anywhere but to church on Sunday.

DO NOT MAKE YOUR PARENT’S LOOK BAD.

DO NOT KILL anyone from your tribe.

DO NOT get caught COMMITING ADULTRY.

DO NOT STEAL from your neighbor.

DO NOT LIE except in cases of national security.

DO NOT COVET a white BMW convertible.

 

What’s wrong with a little negativity to highlight one’s godly obligations? Maybe Jesus believed the John the Baptist approach had turned a lot of people off. Standing in front of folks his own age, Jesus said, “You are blest when you demonstrate humility. You are blest when you become a peaceful presence. You are blest when you open your hearts to others. You are blest when you show mercy to those who cry for justice.”

The Irish poet John O’Donohue writes, “A blessing evokes a sense of warmth and protection. A blessing suggests no life is alone or unreachable. Blessings clothe us in a spiritually raiment which secretly links us to one another. Though suffering and chaos may surround us, they can never quench the inner light of God’s holy blessing.”

This is hard stuff. I like the 10 Commandments. I have been taught from day one that suffering is redemptive and by god nothing causes more spiritual anguish than trying to live up to those Mosaic Regulations. Now Jesus shows up and not only changes the regulations but also their focus.

The Commandments are about me. The Beatitudes are about us. The Commandments warn I better not kill, steal, lie, or commit adultery. The Beatitudes invite us to live in a trusting community where we might become a blessing to each other. My ancient understanding of the Commandments eventually leads some down a path of shame. Jesus’ reframing of those ancient decrees offers the discovery of still waters where souls are nurtured and restored.

Jesus sat among a bunch of millennials who didn’t want to respond to an ancient code that made them feel guilty. Hearing their pain Jesus offered these words. Listen and ponder the soothing ointment Jesus placed on their wounds.

Blessed are you who discover the secret of life is not tied to wealth or privilege.        (stop)

Blessed are you who grieve over the loss of another.

(stop)

Blessed are you not obsessed with power for a moment but the future of coming generations.         (stop)

Blessed are you who hunger and thirst for a caring and just society.      (stop)

Blessed are you who have learned to forgive and show compassion toward the one who hurt you.      (stop)

Blessed are you who set aside an anxious moment and fill it with the traveling mercies of God.    (stop)

Blessed are you who imitate God by bringing harmony and grace to moments of strife and conflict.   (stop)

Blessed are you who are persecuted by the anxieties and prejudices of others. Never forget, you are standing on the Godly side of history.    (Stop)

Then Jesus broke some bread, poured some wine, and blessed them with a Holy Snack.

        To God be the glory.  Amen.