Sermon March 6, 2011

Exodus 24:12-18

Psalm 2

2 Peter 1:16-21

Matthew 17:1-9

“Dazzled by the Reign”

What’s the holiest place you can imagine? Where have you experienced the most sacred moments in your life? When have the insignificant details been swept away and you’ve been left with the kernel of hope that is everything to you? Each one of us probably has a different picture in mind as we imagine, remember and re-experience those moments of rapture, crisis, serenity, fear, hope, anxiety, love or whatever those moments brought us.

Each text read this morning describes the experiences of our ancestors in faith as they encountered holiness and God’s presence—and they, too, experienced a broad spectrum of responses through those encounters.

When Moses was called up on the mountain by God to receive God’s law and experience God’s presence intimately, he prepared himself and the Hebrew people for his absence. He took his assistant Joshua—and he told the elders what to do in while he was gone. And he entrusted the people to his brother Aaron. Only when he was prepared, did he go to encounter God’s presence and receive God’s word of law. This story is one of the crucial stories of the Jewish people—this story of Moses’ encounter with God’s holy presence. Not only did Moses receive the law from God’s own hand, but he experienced God’s presence and an unprecedented way and he lived to survive it.

Knowing the story of Moses on the mountain—experiencing God in the fire and cloud that covered the mountaintop—we can then listen to the story of Jesus and his disciples more clearly and hear it in the way that Matthew intends for us to hear it.

We also need to set this story within its own set of circumstances. Matthew 17:1-9 follows Peter's declaration of Jesus as the Messiah (16:13-20); Jesus' prediction of his death in 16:21-23; and Jesus telling the disciples that those who wanted to follow him would need to deny themselves. Following this, the text says Jesus took Peter, John, and James up to the mountain where Divine encounter and Divine revelation ensue. The text does not say why Jesus decided to go to the mountain on that occasion, nor does it speak to why those three disciples were asked to accompany him. There are no stated expectations for the trip to what was considered a holy place where God was encountered. Instead, we learn that Jesus took the disciples up to the mountain.[1]

So we are meant to know that Jesus has been proclaimed as Messiah or Christ, the anointed one of God, even as we are told that he will be rejected and killed for that identity and that his disciples would have to deny themselves to follow him. God’s chosen one was following a road that led to death for himself and denial of those who would follow. Could that be right?

But Jesus led some notable disciples up some mountain in the area where they were. Peter, James and John (presumably the two brothers and the sons of Zebedee) were prominent in the gospel story of Jesus’ life—though they were not the most prominent preachers after the resurrection. For some reason, Jesus chose them to see this moment in his life, what we’ve come to call Jesus’ transfiguration.

“He was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him.”[2] The word used to describe Jesus’ change of appearance, his transfiguration is metamorphosis in the Greek—he is changed before their eyes. One commentary argued that this was not change, but a revelation of what was already there, but the word used implies that he was changed—this was a moment where his life turned a corner and he, perhaps, embraced the next phase of his life where he turned toward the events that would occur in Jerusalem. And in that moment, his companions—the first disciples Jesus called in Matthew—saw him differently, perhaps saw him as he would appear to them after his crucifixion. Whatever it was, it was different than ever before.

Sister Joan Chittister notes that "Mountains…in Greek, Hebrew, Roman and Asian religious literature, were always places where the human could touch the divine"[3]. The mountaintop experience was known to first century followers of Jesus and the significance of this mountaintop experience would be evident to all who heard the story. The Synoptic Gospels connect with this ancient understanding of the importance of the mountaintop as a place where the Divine could be seen and encountered in tangible life-changing ways. As soon as Jesus and the three disciples arrive on the high unnamed mountain, Jesus is transformed before them.

The mountaintop as the location for the events to come sets the stage for the possibilities of the moment. The mountain or high places were understood by the ancients as places where Divine encounter took place. [4] When would Jesus need the light of the divine more—the comfort of God’s call, presence and encouragement—than at this moment when his life took the irrevocable turn toward the cross? This is one of the reasons why we visit this text of transfiguration is read the Sunday before we begin our 40 day Lenten journey toward the cross.

This encounter with God, as our encounters with God often do, is meant to carry us forward into times when we wonder where it is that God has gone—when we feel abandoned or as Jesus said on the cross, forsaken.

In the transfiguration, we see a glimpse of where Jesus is headed, though the disciples at the time didn’t know where that was, exactly and how Jesus’ rejection and death would lead them there. But in the light and bedazzlement of the moment they could continue on. Just as we are intended to do, carrying with us a vision of where we are meant to be, acting toward those godly intentions for us.

The reign of God is a dazzling vision—sometimes seen only as an existence beyond death—but in this vision of the first of Jesus’ disciples, as an ever-present reality in Jesus’ being and life.

The temptation of a mountaintop experience, however, is to remain there—as Peter’s excited exclamation revealed. “Let’s build a tabernacle, a shrine, for each of you to show others what we have seen and we will stay here with all of you in glory!” But God put a stop to that, “This is my beloved, Son, hear what he has to say!” and when they were through cowering in fear, Jesus called them to continue in their discipleship—without fear. Jesus’ appearance with the iconic, Moses and Elijah, sign and symbol of the Jewish faith, the law and the prophets set him firmly within their expectations of God’s presence. Yet because he told them he would be rejected, I imagine they still wondered where this journey to Jerusalem could possibly lead.

And Jesus continued to lead them into the dazzling reign of God—even though he led them down the mountain, away from that vision of holiness and into the needy crowds of people. Because that’s where the reign of God dwells—not in a building that tries to preserve a moment of time, but in the lives of all the people that God has touched and moved as they move together toward the world that God has envisioned in all of us together.

Our responses to God’s vision for us are as varied as we are—we are dazzled and inspired and we are anxious and fearful—sometimes all at the same time. Sometimes we have to sit with God’s vision for us before we can follow it and sometimes we can step out immediately from the dazzling moment we experience. Fred Craddock states, "There is value in referring to this story as one about Jesus' mountaintop experience, which is followed by his return to the valley where he ministered to human need. To such a presentation we can add recitations of mountaintop experiences we have known, followed by exhortations to return to the valley ready to serve.[5]

The moment of transformation is one that invites us to new and meaningful encounters with God, places where we serve and welcome all those we meet to a life of faith and worship. We can live and move into God’s reign—knowing that it’s not all done, but that we get to help in its fulfillment every day.

To God’s glory, on the mountain, in the valley and in every place and time. Amen.

---

[1] http://www.ucc.org/worship/samuel/march-6-2011-last-sunday-1-1-1.html

[2] Matthew 17:3-4

[3]("The Role of Religion in Today's Society,") http://www.csec.org/csec/sermon/chittister_3508.htm

[4] http://www.ucc.org/worship/samuel/march-6-2011-last-sunday-1-1-1.html

[5] (The Christian Century, February 21, 1990).

"Putting Love First”

Sermon February 27 2011
Isaiah 49:8-16a
Psalm 131
1 Corinthians 4:1-5
Matthew 6:24-34

My mother often worried about me, especially when I was in college and seminary because I didn’t seem to be too concerned about my money. She worried about all of us, but of course I heard more about how I worried her. She worried when I didn’t know what I wanted to do after college. And then when I started seminary, she worried because I was going into ministry. And I worried, worried about money, career, love, college, seminary, career and life in general. But worrying about it—my mother’s worry or mine—didn’t change the situation. So, I guess what I’m telling you is that I worry and I think it’s hereditary.

And I’m not the only one. Even when people don’t say the word, I know people worry about all kinds of things. Every night Carl and I worry about what we’re going to have for dinner—not that we don’t have food, but such a variety that we can’t decide. But both of our families have had times when they did worry about food and where it was coming from. I’ve wondered if I was going to have rent money, car payment, etc.

And in the midst of my worry, I’m not thinking about the abundance of the world that God created and how God provides what we need—somewhere it’s available—but really what I’m worried about is the money I have or don’t have. Does that sound at all familiar? I thought so.

Jesus’ audience weren’t immune to worry either—and in their world, life was much more precarious. He begins by stated clearly the source of worry, “No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth.” Wealth or the lack thereof is the worry. Our security seems to lay in wealth of one kin or another. If we’ve got it, we want to protect it. If we don’t have it, we seem to think it will fix everything. Wealth and security are linked to kingdom in Jesus' time. Security came from a powerful king and the means to acquire wealth (and that kind of security) came from a stable kingdom.

Living in a modern, democratic society, we can hardly imagine the emotion impact the word kingdom (a word Jesus uses over and over). And in Jesus’ time, and long before the time of Jesus, one had to have the protection of living within a kingdom to even survive. As we read scripture and read of the people God chose stepping away from the protection of a kingdom, what we’re really reading about is people stepping away from known order into possible chaos and it took tremendous faith to do that. Abraham left a kingdom or city state called Ur to follow the promise that God gave him. He left with wife and household and walked into the unknown trusting only in God’s promise. When the Hebrew people left Egypt and slavery they left the only life they’d ever known. Even when the Israelites left Babylon (which had become Persia) to return to the Promised Land, they left order to return to land of chaos. God’s are often found leaving the security of an established authority and trusting God to take care of them in some other way and in some other time.

In Isaiah, the people of Israel are going to come home after years of exile—God’s children were coming home. For some of them, Babylon or Persia, was the only home they’d ever know. For some of them, even if they did remember Zion or Jerusalem, they thought God had abandoned them to their captors. Though the prophets had never stopped telling the of God’s love and when, finally, they were seeing the possibility of going home, they still found it hard, as we do to trust that God is leading us to a place called home. But Isaiah evokes God’s ultra maternal care, “Can a woman forget her nursing child or show no compassion for the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you.” Wherever we go and have gone, God has never abandoned us. Though we die, we are accompanied to our last breath and beyond by the one who has given us life and death and life again.

God accompanies us into places and times when we feel like the bottom has dropped out of our world—or the order has disappeared—or when despair or depression seems too much. God accompanies us and calls us to faith, even when and especially when there’s nothing left to rely upon.

As we live in a culture and nation that enjoys incredible prosperity compared to many places in the world, one of our greatest temptations is to give our loyalty to the concrete and obvious benefits of that culture and nation. Instead, we are called by Jesus to give our loyalty first to the realm that God is building and to the righteousness that God calls us to live. Other things will fall into place—in some way—according to God’s intentions.

Whenever I begin to consider the difficulty in relying on God—without compromise—a scene from a movie flashes in to my mind. In the 1977 made for TV movie Jesus of Nazareth, there is a scene in the Jewish Council or the Sanhedrin where the leadership were discussing Jesus. Most of them were concerned that Jesus was stirring up chaos too much and the Romans were beginning to notice—they wanted to prevent the Romans from crucifying thousands of Jews on the walls of Jerusalem and other places as had been done before there and in other lands. Some might have been greedy for the relative power
their positions gave them under the Romans, but others (like Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea, mentioned in the gospels) seemed to be sincere leaders of God’s people. Whoever we are we often walk a fine line in our person loyalties and priorities for attention, time and resources.

It’s difficult to step out and away for the surest things in life, relying instead upon the promise of a seeming ethereal realm of God—this kingdom that Jesus preached and lived. It’s hard and I don’t know anyone who does it or did it perfectly—except Jesus. Yet, we aren’t supposed to worry about that so much either—just do it to the best of our God-given ability.

Whether we’re looking at the life of the peasant listener in Jesus’ time—the slave of ancient Israel—or listening to Jesus’ words now it’s still takes continuous attention and intention to keep love as a priority in
the complexities of life.

Jesus holds up a way of looking at life that might hold the answers, even in our complicated times. “Look at the birds of the air . . . Consider the lilies of the field . . . they neither toil nor spin and yet . . .” Jesus
isn’t advocating giving up on working, on purpose or on effort and yet we are called to realize that God has provided enough already in this world. We might have to move the food, clothing and shelter around a little bit, with love as that priority, to satisfy each one’s real need, but God’s creation is abundantly and fertile enough to feed us all.

Despite the differences between our world and that of the peasants in Jesus’ homeland, we still struggle to live according to the priority of the love of God’s kingdom without serving two (or more) masters. I
know that I struggle and I worry and I don’t think I am alone. I may not worry about amassing wealth, where I am, but I still am concerned with success and status sometimes. And I don’t worry much about the rise of the chaos of anarchy and violence, I do get a little fearful when I think about giving up all of my trust to God and only God. In my heart I know I can do that, but I always seem to keep a little worry for myself, just to be on the safe side.

But I do see that living according to the way that Jesus revealed in his life—the love that God pours out on us all—means living toward a world free of hunger, thirst and exposure to the elements. God’s kingdom isn’t so much about where you live—or even where you’ll end up—it’s about living toward God’s intentions for the world.

This isn’t new, and it’s probably not over—so in our desire and purpose of living toward the realm that Jesus has announced and inaugurated—we continue to move closer to the rhythm of life that Jesus desired for us and that which God has blessed us.

One writer’s reflection on this text winds up this way, “Don't worry about your life, says Jesus. Don't be afraid. Isaiah acknowledged that the exiles felt "forsaken and forgotten" in their exile to Babylon,
and so he reminded them of the God of "comfort and compassion" (49:13–14).” He continues, “In my better moments, I resonate with the farmer-poet Wendell Berry (born 1934) and his poem The Peace of Wild Things. Berry echoes the words of Jesus about the worries of life:

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
The world can be wild, but Jesus says that under the care of
his Father it can nonetheless be a place of peace.” [1]

As we have explored our discipleship with Jesus Christ, we can recall the journey through the Sermon on the Mount that Matthew reveals to us in Jesus’ teachings.

Through the Beatitudes,
we have immersed ourselves
in the extraordinary and wise ways of God,
and received a glimpse of a vision that is
both beautiful and terrifying in its implications.

In Jesus’ teaching of law and life,
we have immersed ourselves
in the extraordinary and wise ways of God,
and discovered all that we are
and all that God calls us to be is restored in beauty.
We have learned from Jesus how to fulfill boldly
the law of love from the heart.

As Jesus’ taught us who we are and who God loves,
we have immersed ourselves
in the extraordinary and wise ways of God,
and were encouraged to expand
love’s possibilities into the far flung universe.

And in Jesus words of serenity,
we have immersed ourselves
in the extraordinary and wise ways of God,
and make the loving ways of God
our ultimate goal and our greatest loyalty.[2]

In our walk of discipleship, let us be trusting, hopeful and full of God’s beautiful vision as we enter more closely into God’s will for us all. To God’s glory, one God evermore. Amen.

[1]http://www.journeywithjesus.net/ February 27 2011
[2]Seasons of the Spirit, February 27 2011, congregational life, Response.