A Political Gospel (Sermon)

Transfiguration Sunday: Year A: Exodus 24:12-18; Psalm 99; 2 Peter 1:16-21; Matthew 17:1-9

I know, and you know, that people do not like sermons they perceive to be "political." Many come to church hoping for a break from the endless news cycle and its doom, gloom, and overwhelming encroachment on peace of mind. Desperate for good news, they implore the pastor: "Stay away from politics... just preach the gospel."

But what is that gospel, exactly? Does it mean hearing the story of Jesus on the mountain today as a mere special effects show, with no assessment of why the Law and the Prophets—represented by Moses and Elijah—stand there with him?

We know that when people say "the sermon was too political," they often mean "I heard something that made me uncomfortable." The reality of biblical preaching is a focus on people and the situations that affect them. We cannot avoid how the written word of God has life and breath and shapes the world.

Consider our reading from Exodus 24. In that text, Moses isn't just taking a hike; he is entering a cloud of glory that looks like a "devouring fire" to the people below. He is there to receive the Law—the very blueprint for how a liberated people should treat one another, how they should handle property, and how they should protect the vulnerable. The very cloud that is the "glory of the Lord" is delivering the "justice of the Lord"—affecting not only the freed Israelites but also anyone else who lives with or near them.

Psalm 99 reiterates the theme. The psalmist declares that our God is holy, yes, but also specifically praises a ruler who "loves justice" and has "established equity." To praise the holiness of the Divine while ignoring the Divine demand for equity is to read only half the page.

When people ask for an "apolitical" gospel, they are often asking for a safe, spiritualized myth. But in 2 Peter 1, the apostle is adamant: "We did not follow cleverly devised myths." He is talking about the Transfiguration. He’s saying, "I was there. I heard the voice from the Majestic Glory." Peter insists on the reliability of this message. Why? Because the early Christians were living in an Empire that claimed the Emperor was the "Son of God." For Peter to stand up and say, "No, I saw the real King on a mountain, and his name is Jesus," was the most politically subversive thing he could do. It was a declaration that the current power structures were not ultimate.

In Matthew 17, we see Jesus transfigured—his face shining like the sun. But look at who is with him: Moses, who stood up to Pharaoh, and Elijah, who stood up to King Ahab and Queen Jezebel. They are not talking about "spiritual" abstractions. In the broader context of the Transfiguration story, they are discussing his "exodus"—his departure which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.

The original Exodus story featured a despotic ruler, a hardened heart, and a struggle for freedom. By standing with Moses and Elijah, Jesus is signaling that his mission is a similar type of exodus. He is focused on the freedom that comes from being in relationship with the God of released captives. To appreciate the fullness of the Incarnation, we must recognize that Jesus pursued justice throughout his life. The truth that makes us free is political because it affects people. We cannot ignore it.

If we are to pretend there are no politics in scripture, we must ignore the cloud that overshadows Peter, James, and John. We must ignore the fact that Peter’s first instinct was to build "dwellings"—to institutionalize the moment, to stay safe on the mountain.

But the voice from the cloud interrupts him: "Listen to him!"

Listening to Jesus means following him down the mountain. It means following him into the valleys where people are sick, where children are afraid, and where the "powers that be" are crushing those without the power or platform to be heard. To strip the Transfiguration of its political implication, we must water down the command to "Listen to him" into a mere suggestion for private meditation.

Here we stand on Transfiguration Sunday, about to enter Lent. We are on a mountain peak with Jesus, and while we can see the empty cross from here, we are compelled by the Holy Spirit to proceed into a season of reflection and repentance.

In the Christmas carol O Little Town of Bethlehem, we sing about the will of God becoming flesh and resting in a manger. We sing: "The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight"—"thee" being both the town and the infant Jesus.

Those hopes and fears are not just "spiritual" anxieties; they are the concrete fears of people living under occupation, the hopes of those who hunger for justice. They were the realities for the people of the first Exodus, the Temple congregation singing the psalm, the crowds who followed Jesus, and the people who received the epistle from Peter in hope.

Our faith cannot be untangled from the political realities of our day, nor from our prayer that God’s "will be done on earth as in heaven." Each time we say those words, we are asking God for the courage to be part of accomplishing that will.

Let it be our hearts and minds which are transfigured today. Let it be our spirits which shed the fear of "being political" in favor of the courage to be biblical. Let it be our lives, transformed by the grace which has met all our hopes and fears, that compel others to seek a Divine will of love and justice—in the mundane and in the political.

Amen.

 

The Politics of Good News

Transfiguration Sunday: Year C: Exodus 34:29-35; Psalm 99; 2 Corinthians 3:12--4:2; Luke 9:28-36 

 

"Keep the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other." 
- Karl Barth, German theologian (1886-1968)

It has never escaped my attention that people do not like sermons that they perceive to be political. Furthermore, many people come to church, hoping for a break from the endless news cycle and its doom, gloom, and overwhelming encroachment on peace of mind and heart. Desperate for good news, when these people come to church, they implore the pastor to stay away from politics or news, just preach the gospel. 

What is that gospel, exactly? Does this mean a desire to hear the story of Jesus welcoming the children over and over, with no assessment as to why the disciples tried to keep the children away or how children were treated in that society? Does it mean to only proclaim the stories of healing and ignore how the sick were marginalized and shut out from the benefits of the society at the time? Does it mean to embrace historical treatment or explanations about Jews or Romans, but never lift up God's covenants with the former or the pressures of empire on the latter? 

I am never fully sure what to think when I am told to stay away from political topics, particularly when I serve a very mixed congregation politically. I'm especially unclear on how to do it when it seems antithetical to the text in front of me. Most Biblical passages seem to me to be very political, very concerned with how people live their lives and their freedom to do so. 

When I know that people do not want political sermons, I do not know what to do with the words in today's texts that refer to Elijah and Moses speaking to Jesus about his "exodus". Our English versions say "his departure", but the word "exodus" is more than clear in the Greek. For Luke's community, use of the term 'exodus' would have brought up more than just the memory or the story of Moses leading the Israelites to freedom. 

The exodus story features a despotic ruler, a hardened heart, blood and the loss of children, fear and destruction. In order to move toward freedom, Moses and the people of Israel, the descendants of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, must be willing to acknowledge that being free means the opposite of all that surrounds them and shapes their daily lives. When Jesus sets his face toward Jerusalem, his focus isn't specifically or merely on his death, he is focused on the truth of his mission- the freedom that comes from understanding and being in relationship with the God of freedom, the God of released captives, the God of truth-telling and redemption. 

To appreciate the fullness of the Incarnation, Christ's presence in the world, we must consider what use of the term 'exodus' means here in Luke. We must recognize that Jesus, as the enfleshed person of the Trinity at this point in time, God with skinon, pursued justice throughout his life, not just in being willing to die. Exodus does not happen just when the Israelites step out of the Red Sea or, for us, once the tomb is empty, God works to bring hope, healing, and freedom before the human story is even on the page. That truth is political, and I cannot ignore it. 

In seeking an apolitical sermon, I must turn away from Paul's circumstances. I must try to consider him writing words in vacuum to people whose sins, whose straying, is simply a matter of their as-yet-unturned hearts. I must pretend that there is no pressure on them to yield to the expectations of the Roman empire, no financial threat to them if they fail to worship the emperor, no existential threat to their lives as the occupying force of the Roman garrison parades in the streets. 

To strip Paul's writing of political implication, I must set aside that his words have been willfully misinterpreted to harm Jewish people, women, racial minorities, and others throughout history, even into the present. I must water down his intense rhetoric to platitudes. "Since it is by God's mercy we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart." That sounds nice. And it's much less challenging that the pressure to act with boldness, to remove veils from our faces, to renounce the shameful things that are in opposition to God's will- both in our own hearts and in the world. Being willing to do that means having prayerful conversations about these shameful things and each of us feeling the Spirit's conviction about things we've said and believed. 

Lastly, if I am to pretend that there are no politics in scripture, I must simply describe Moses's dramatic and terrifying appearance on the mountain with no other commentary. I will not say anything about the reception of the 10 commandments. I will pretend that we all know what it means to turn away from murder- in word and deed, as well as what it means not to adulterate relationships- platonic or romantic. Honoring the sabbath is obviously a clear commandment in a 24-hour world and bearing false witness is only applicable in court as opposed to a reality for our everyday speech in how we speak well (or don't) about others. In case my tone was too subtle, all of that was tongue-in-cheek. 

The commandments, their interpretation, their use, or disuse is all political speech- having to do with our relationship with God and with others, every minute of every day. They cannot be stripped of their intent for God's justice and God's will to be done. 

Here we stand, on Transfiguration Sunday, about to enter Lent. We are on a mountain peak with Jesus and, while we can see the empty cross from here, we are called and compelled by the Holy Spirit to proceed into a season of reflection, contemplation, and repentance. 

The best thought I can give you in this season is a verse from a Christmas carol: 

Oh little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie

Above thy deep and dreamless sleep the silent stars go by

Yet in thy dark streets shineth, the everlasting light

The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight.

 

It is only by acknowledging political realities, personal griefs, and painful truths that we can fully appreciate what it meant and what it means for the "hopes and fears of all the years" to have been gathered and confronted in Bethlehem on that night. Those hopes and fears do not wait for the cross or the tomb, they are present and being confronted from the moment Gabriel speaks to Mary, from the moment Joseph lays Jesus on Mary's breast, from the moment the shepherds are shocked out of their wits. 

 

The hopes and fears of all the years are confronted when the dove descends at Christ's baptism, at the first exorcism, at the first raising of the dead, at the first healing, when the first bite of bread and fish passes the lips of the first person on that hillside among the thousands of other people. And every single one of these acts was political- concerned with the well-being of people, concerned with the well-being of God's people, the well-being of all people. 

 

Our faith, our trust in God, our daily responsive living to the grace which we have received cannot be untangled from politics, from the political realities of our day, from our prayer that God's "will be done on earth as in heaven." Each time we say those words, we are asking God to give us the will, strength, and courage to be part of the accomplishing of that will. We are acknowledging the hopes and fears of all the years and asking that God, who already knows them, continue to meet them in every street, in every home, in every field, on every mountain. 

 

Let it be our hearts and minds which are transfigured today. Let it be our spirits which shed fear. Let it be our mouths that utter "Thy will be done" and mean it for every corner of our lives. 

 

And let it be our lives, transformed by the grace which has met all our hopes and fears... let it be our lives, which are full of words and deeds that compel others to give glory to God and to seek the Divine will of love - in the mundane and in the political. 

 

Amen. 

 

Transfigured (Audio Only)

The audio from Transfiguration Sunday's sermon, 3/3/19.

Lifting the Veil

2 Corinthians 3:12-4:212 Since, then, we have such a hope, we act with great boldness, 13 not like Moses, who put a veil over his face to keep the people of Israel from gazing at the end of the glory that was being set aside. 14 But their minds were hardened. Indeed, to this very day, when they hear the reading of the old covenant, that same veil is still there, since only in Christ is it set aside. 15 Indeed, to this very day whenever Moses is read, a veil lies over their minds; 16 but when one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed. 17 Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. 18 And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit. 
4:1 Therefore, since it is by God's mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart. 2 We have renounced the shameful things that one hides; we refuse to practice cunning or to falsify God's word; but by the open statement of the truth we commend ourselves to the conscience of everyone in the sight of God.

When reading the scriptures selected for this Sunday, my heart leapt at the last verses of this passage. Since we, as a congregation, are regrouping from a break-in and fire that has put a bit of a cramp in our building availability, not to mention all the additional decision-making that had to go on... a little cheer-leading (in 2 Corinthians, no less!) seemed like a good idea.

It is by God's mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, in this place! We do not lose heart! We are not alone! We have forcefully said no to the things that one might hide and embraced truth, hope, and grace that surround us from God in Christ! Huzzah, alleluia, and amen!

I really wanted to leave it at that and just ignore the earlier part of the passage. After all, people who are far better Bible scholars than me say this is the most obscure passage of Paul's seven letters We're not sure what he's saying, why he's saying it, when he said it, and what the Corinthians were doing that prompted him to say it. Doesn't that give me a pass to say, "Yes, this does sound vaguely (not-so-vaguely) anti-Jewish, but we know Paul was a Jew, so it's probably not. Now back to not losing heart..."

Perhaps if we were in a utopian time, a heavenly time, a mountaintop time, wherein all people were perceived and cherished as equals in the eyes of the Lord, if we did actually see in word and deed that all lives matter, if politicians and terror groups didn't trade in the fear of the other to rile up support and hatred... then I could skip over that earlier part.

Since we are not yet to that stage of our sanctification, our being made holy, then it appears that I must say something about the earlier portion of this passage.

Paul understood God to have made a permanent covenant with Abraham and his descendants (both through Isaac and Ishmael) AND a permanent covenant with David and his house. These covenants were rooted in who God was and is, regardless of what the Hebrew people (who became Israel) did. They wander, they doubt, they idolize, but God keeps God's word.

Paul also understood that, in addition, God had made some conditional covenants with the people of Israel. Blessing and safety, in some instances, were contingent upon the people's obedient and faithful behavior. It is not that God wouldn't offer them blessing and safety when they were disobedient, but their poor choices and failure to trust in God and God alone could lead to bad situations- exile and death being some of them.

Part of why Moses veils his face when returning from being in the presence of God is that his fellow Israelites cannot bear to look at the light, but also that they will idolize the glow itself and not its source- the presence of the Almighty. However, veil or no veil, the people begin to take for granted that they are people who have been proximal to the presence of God. Being chosen people becomes their elevated way of seeing themselves without moving forward with the relational aspect of being chosen to convey the presence of God to the rest of the world.

Paul's concern for the Corinthians is that they have begun to take certain things for granted in the same direction. They should not attempt to be the Jews they were not born to be. Neither should they be exceedingly proud of having perceived the good news of Jesus Christ. Favored status is the veil that gets in the way of the world being able to comprehend the way that we are transfigured by life in and through Jesus.

When people, Jews or Christians, trust in the title of being chosen, baptized, members, or disciples, but forget the way those things are actual spiritual AND tangible ways of being that transfigure them personally and the world around them... the veil of the title (chosen, baptized, etc) dims the light of love that shines from faces, in words, and in actions.

Yesterday, I picked up my daughter and was hugging her and kissing her cheek. Swinging her around as she giggled, I looked over to see if my son was watching. I was planning to go to do the same thing to him if he was. The reason was actually because I did not want him to think that my daughter is my favorite. I love them both. I might be more annoyed with one or the other from time to time, but I love them both- deeply, whole-heartedly, without reservation.

In the moment of looking between my daughter and my son and wanting them to know that I did not have favorites, I suddenly grasped the thing that Paul wants to communicate, but cannot. God does not have partiality between God's children. God's unconditional love is deep, whole hearted, and without reservation. It is when we believe that we are the favorites- because of denomination or theological awareness or doctrine or habit- we draw a veil over the glory that is the relationship and our hearts harden. There is freedom in realizing that Christ was not sent to tell Jews they were no longer God's favorite, but instead to the whole world, the whole cosmos, to explain that God does not have favorites.

On Wednesday, with the imposition of ashes, we will enter the season of Lent. This is typically a time of serious contemplation, of reflection on spiritual discipline, on preparing for baptism or joining a congregation, on metaphysical improvements in mind and soul. In Lent, we put away the alleluias and focus our minds on the cross and what it means for our faith.

I can't undo Lent, but I can offer an addendum or correction for this year. A church that had just had a fire and break-in doesn't need to short on the alleluias. A church that is being looked to as a community gathering space does not need to pull in for self-examination. A church that has received over five thousand dollars in donations toward rebuilding does not need to skimp on the alleluias.

From this mountain of transfiguration, let us remove our veils... veils of fear, veils of frustration, veils of self-doubt, veils of trust in things that are not God... personally and as a congregation, let us unveil ourselves as people are who transfigured and transformed, day by day, not by what we believe, but by the One who believes in us.

It is by God's mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, in this place! We do not lose heart! We are not alone! We forcefully say no to the things that one might hide and embrace truth, hope, and grace that surround us from God in Christ! Huzzah, alleluia, and amen!

Transfigure Our Faith

Our hope is in God, our holy Parent,

who makes all things and from whom all blessings flow.

God’s faithfulness is the anchor of our hope.

Our trust is in Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord.

More than a teacher,

His life, death, and resurrection giving meaning to our existence.

Christ’s faithfulness tethers us to holy mystery.

Our trust is in the Holy Spirit.

Blowing over and through creation, unexpected and untamed,

The Spirit stirs forgiveness, fruitfulness, and creates families.

The Spirit’s faithfulness ties together past, present, and future.

Holy Trinity, One God, we believe you transfigure our faith. Amen.

Unseen Transfiguration

Transfiguration Sunday 

John 9:1-41        

         After he tells the blind man to go wash, Jesus disappears from the story until verse 35. Nowhere else in this gospel do we get 28 verses without Jesus speaking and acting. Instead, we have a man who has been touched and affected by Jesus, but who has never seen him.

            Is there anyone here who can relate to that- having been affected by Jesus’ words or presence or actions, but never having seen Him? The blind man is seeking Jesus, working toward understanding his transfiguration, rejoicing in the change in his life.

            Remember that in this gospel, in John, sin is not about actions. Sin is not what you do- it is what you believe or fail to believe. So the man’s blindness is not in this story so that we (or anyone else) might reflect on sin, what causes sin, and what happens after sin. The blindness just is.

In this circumstance, it is an opportunity for God’s work. God’s work in Jesus is revealing the divine nature and desires. The Spirit’s work around Jesus is supporting belief, trust, faith that Jesus makes God plain. 

The people around Jesus, even in his absence in these verses, are being transfigured by his presence and his actions. They are coming to faith, coming to a deeper understanding of God in their midst, or they are resisting that understanding. Transfiguration, being transformed, undergoing change isn’t easy. It can be painful, frustrating, and feel lonely.

In the beginning, God created out of clay and breath- bringing people into being and into relationship. God transfigured with an eye toward relational possibility, a new way of being together.  Here, Jesus heals with clay and with breath- bringing this man into a new being and into relationship. Jesus transfigures with an eye toward relational possibility, a new way of this man being together with his community.

We can get stuck in these stories because of our modern understanding of disability. We know that blindness or deafness or other physical difficulties (or mental difficulties) are caused by congenital problems or by accidents. We are caught in the action part. Try to let your modern mind go for a minute. This isn’t now, and never was about the disability. Instead, God is using the opportunity (again) to reveal the Divine Desire and ability through Jesus.

For us, this becomes a story about transfiguration- about the areas of blindness in our life, about truths we don’t want to see, about relationships we don’t want to embrace. The tough gospel news about Transfiguration is this: we, you, I can be transfigured by something we haven’t seen. We are being transformed by something that is beyond us. We can be, and are, shaped by something we don’t fully understand.

That is God’s work in Jesus, through the Spirit, in us, in our lives, in our world.

Transfiguration of Desires

Transfiguration Sunday comes right before Ash Wednesday. Next Sunday will be the first Sunday in Lent.

In the coming week, many of you will be choosing something from which to fast in the next forty days.

May I recommend that you reflect on Transfiguration? Approach Lenten fasting and feasting with a desire to see Jesus.

Let’s take a moment to reflect on what we want God to transfigure in our lives and in the world.

Monumental Transfiguration (Sermon 2/19)

Transfiguration (NL, Year B)

19 February 2012

Mark 8:27-9:13 

            I’m going to Washington, DC at the end of March for a church conference. What should I see while I’m there? (Vietnam Memorial, Washington Monument, etc) What are those things for? They serve as markers and reminders (monuments) to events and people of the past. They help us remember things we have promised not to forget and things we might try to forget and things we truly want to remember. Monuments serve as markers for the best and worst parts of our human nature, which is part of why we build them. Other people in other countries make the same effort, showing birthplaces and homes of famous leaders, historic places of worship, sites of battles and deaths.

            Knowing how likely we are as people to erect monuments and (now) to make attempts to preserve historic locations, can we really blame Peter for his desire to build a tent on top of that mountain? After all, throughout the Hebrew Scriptures, there were many locations where people put up cairns or rock altars to commemorate God’s help or blessing. Here, on this mountaintop, Peter, James, and John have seen Moses and Elijah. (How they knew it was Moses and Elijah I have NO idea.) Literally in front of their eyes, they see the person through whom God gave the law and the foremost among the prophets.

            Not only is Peter seeing the two main heroes of Jewish faith, but he’s also seeing two people who have no monument other than their deeds. When Moses is not able to enter the Promised Land with the Israelites, he dies and is buried. They don’t carry his body with them and their motion is forward. No one knows where he is buried by the time anyone could go back to mourn him in location.

            Elijah is taken up into heaven in a whirlwind- a crash of thunder and winds that terrifies everyone who sees it. There’s no monument to Elijah. No specific place to go and contemplate his deeds. Again, the two main heroes of the Jewish faith have no monument other than their deeds.

           

Peter may be uncertain about what it means to believe Jesus is the Messiah, but he knows what to do if he’s seeing Moses and Elijah. Not only is this location obviously holy, but also a monument here would be helpful to so many people. What a good idea! And if they’re sticking around to build a monument, you know what they don’t have to do… head into Jerusalem. If what Jesus says about betrayal and death is true, maybe they can forestall it by working here on a monument, on booths that celebrate the revelation of Moses and Elijah.

            Then the voice comes from heaven, saying, “This is my beloved Son, listen to him!” And with that the idea of a monument, as well as Moses and Elijah are gone, and they are there with Jesus and no one else. The disciples are still struggling, not just Peter, with what they are seeing as they travel with Jesus. They are trying to reconcile what they’ve heard their whole life with regard to the Messiah and the fact they believe… they want to believe… they’re trying to believe that God’s Anointed (Messiah) is right there with them.

            Not only is Jesus not acting in the swift justice, furious vengeance, David/Moses/Elijah hybrid that was dreamed (and maybe promised), but he’s also telling his disciples that they can’t follow him and act in that manner. In other words, they have to tear down the monuments of their expectations- the Messiah monuments in their hearts and minds- so that they can actually experience the Jesus who is right there with them. The Rock of their own imagination is stopping them from hearing the living Word, the Rock of Ages,  right there with them.

            The same thing happens to us. We have monuments… Bible translations, liturgies, denominational polity,… that we have built based on who we think Jesus is. We then get caught up in maintaining those monuments, which we interpret as right religious behavior, and forget to listen to the Living Word, to Jesus. Part of how we are to interpret Scripture, our own actions, our decision making is through the lens of Jesus- what Jesus would do and what Jesus would have you do… have us do. The monument, the marker, we build for Jesus is how we live our lives. 

            The mountain of the Transfiguration gives us a glimpse of Easter- just before we go back down the valley into the season of Lent… for the walk to Jerusalem. It may sound strange to say, but Easter becomes another monument that gets in our way… in the way of hearing the voice of Jesus. When we become intensely focused on the death and resurrection, we make just another monument of the cross and empty tomb. Another place to visit, to be moved by, and to leave.

            But listen to the voice of Jesus… we can be… we are transfigured as disciples for this life. We aren’t simply waiting for heaven, but we have the Messiah in our midst for living right now. This is a monumental advantage to a living God, to a God-with-us. We have received the Spirit so that we may be transformed and be transforming in our every day lives right now.

            Was Jesus the Son of God? Was he the Messiah? Did he walk on the earth? Does he meet us today? In essence, are God’s promises true? (Can I get an amen?)

            As part of the on-going transfiguration of our faith, we (like Peter, James, and John) have to tear down the monuments we have built to what we want Jesus to be, what we have made Jesus out to be… and allow Jesus’ voice to show us who He (and through Him, God) really is. This is part of the work of Lent- to hear and be changed by the radical power of who Jesus is… in his whole ministry. We, too, are being told to listen to the Beloved Son.

            What does Jesus say to his disciples, some of those hard words: "If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” That’s not a call to monument building- to lovely memorials of stone or gardens or well-preserved houses. It’s a call to a full life, lived in the Spirit… a transfiguring life that does not leave the world the same… a life that begins the minute you and Jesus go down the mountain.

Amen.