Year: 2016

Colossians 1:15-28  

Lectionary 16 in Ordinary Time    9^th Sunday after Pentecost

July 17, 2016

 

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible (vs. 15-16a).  The author of the letter to the Colossians writes to the people about Jesus, and who Jesus is.  Who is Jesus to you?  Does who Jesus is depend upon what your circumstances are?

I love bad movies, and Talladega Nights is one I really like.  Ricky Bobby, the lead character and a race car driver in the movie addresses his dinner blessing to “Dear Lord Baby Jesus.”   When his wife reminds him that Jesus did grow up, Ricky responds, “Well, I like the Christmas Jesus best and I’m saying grace.  When you say grace, you can say it to grownup Jesus, or teenage Jesus, or bearded Jesus or whoever you want.”  Ricky’s friend, Cal, chimes in.  “I like to picture Jesus in a tuxedo T-shirt, cause it says, like, “I wanna be formal, but I’m here to party, too.”  Ricky’s father-in-law responds, “I like to picture Jesus as a ninja fighting off evil samurai.”  Who is Jesus to you?

Theologian Brian McLaren writes in his book A Generous Orthodoxy[1] how his understanding of Jesus Christ has changed over time.  His struggle began when he realized his focus was on Jesus’ innocent death on the cross.  He found his understanding individualistic and legalistic.  As McLaren studied, he saw Jesus as being present and involved in everyday life.  While his understanding broadened, both views of Jesus did not address Jesus’ connection with the world.  This led him to focus on Holy Communion and ancient traditions, but he was troubled by the exclusivity of what he calls the “Roman Catholic Jesus.” McLaren continues to grow in his understanding of who Jesus is, and he presents in his book “Eastern Orthodox Jesus,” “Liberal Protestant Jesus,” Anabaptist Jesus,” and “Liberation Theology Jesus.”  These descriptions are simplistic, and no one of them on its own is complete. Who is Jesus?  Who is Jesus to you?

Who is Jesus to you when you struggle to tame the demons of addiction?  When the doctor tells you that you have cancer?  Who is Jesus to you when you hear that African Americans and police officers are shot and killed?  Who is Jesus to you when over 80 people in Nice, France, are killed by a man driving a truck through the crowd?

We have been left reeling after months of violence and mass killings, not just in our country, but throughout our world.  Fear has gripped us.  Who do we say Jesus is in light of this?  Next Sunday, Pastor Ballentine will gather with anyone who wants to talk about how the gospel speaks to our current social unrest.  Join him in the Gathering Space at 10 o’clock.

Who is Jesus?  Who is Jesus to you?  In the words of our scripture reading this morning, “[Jesus] is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of the cross” (Colossians 1:18-19).  This declaration of who Jesus the Christ is has come to be known as the “Christ hymn.”

The early church sang this hymn of hope in Christ.  “In him all things in heaven and earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all thing have been created through him and for him.  He himself is before all things and in him all things hold together” (vs. 16-17).  Christ is the one through whom God joined all things to God’s own self.  Through Jesus’ death on the cross, everything in all creation has been reconciled to God.

Pastor Brian Walsh observes, “Here is a kingdom born of blood, but instead of this being the blood of its victims, it is the blood of its Lord.”[2]  Jesus does not die instead of us.  Jesus dies with us.  Jesus does not offer his death to God to appease God’s wrath; he offers his life to God as a victory over death. Through the cross, we are rescued from sin, death and the devil, as Luther says.  God does not do this with violent power, but accomplishes this by becoming one of us, by joining us to his life and his death.  Jesus’ life was marked by his tears at the death of his friend Lazarus, and dinner with friends Mary and Martha. His life included his betrayal by Judas and by those who did not believe in him. His life included his flesh being ripped apart by nails, and breathing his last breath hanging on a cross, and burial in a tomb. Jesus descended to the dead, rose to life and ascended to God.  This is what we are joined to in the water and the word of baptism.

This is our hope.  In fact, Christ is our only hope.  Christ has gone out to the world to be where people are suffering, and to be with people in their suffering.  Our hope is not avoidance of things that make us want to hide under the covers.  Our faith does not deny evil in this world.  Our hope is in Jesus who brings light out of darkness and life out of death.  Our hope is that God is still working in our world.  Our hope through Christ is that there is no death from which resurrection is not possible.  We are Easter people.

Frederick Buechner fleshes out our hope.  He writes, “For Christians, hope is ultimately hope in Christ.  The hope that he really is what for centuries we have been claiming his is.  The hope that despite the fact that sin and death still rule the world, he somehow conquered them.  The hope that in him and through him all of us stand a chance of somehow conquering them too.  The hope that at some unforeseeable time and in some unimaginable way he will return with healing in his wings.”[3]

This Christ hymn in Colossians reminds us, as Paul writes in his letter to the Romans, that “neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (8:38-39). This is who Jesus is.  Jesus is our hope.  This is our Christ hymn. How can we keep from singing?

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

 

 

 

 

[1] McLaren, Brian.  A Generous Orthodoxy.  Grand Rapids:  Youth Specialties, 2004.

[2] http: //www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2925

 

[3] Buechner, Frederick.  Beyond Words.  New York:  HarperSanFrancisco, 2004.  160.

Luke 9:51-62

6^th Sunday after Pentecost  Lectionary 13

We’ve got lots of excuses.  “I can’t come.  I’ve got to check the expiration date on my milk.”  “My cat is high-maintenance.”  Then there are our standard reasons for not getting out of the house on time.  “Let me find my book first.”  “I’ll be there after I water my plants.”  We are good at minor delays. “I will start an exercise program when the weather gets colder.”  “Another weight gain of five pounds and then I will go on a diet.”  We are also good at delaying major things.  “We will have children as soon as we can afford a house.”  “I will go see my sister in Denver when airfares get a bit cheaper.” “I’ll go back to school when the kids are older.”  Timing is everything, isn’t it?

Jesus said, “Follow me.” “But, Jesus, my father just died.  You know that.  I’ll be with you as soon as the funeral is over. You understand.”  Jesus said, “Follow me.”  “I’m coming!  I just have to say goodbye to my mother first.”  But Jesus said, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”  Ouch!  That’s harsh!  Jesus was born into a human family.  He knows that we have important things to do!

What about our careers?  What about our loved ones?  What about our lives?  “I will follow you, Jesus,” the person said.  As if to say, “You might not understand what you are getting yourself into,” Jesus answered, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head,” Jesus tells us.  He is without a permanent home, and has few possessions.  Material goods will not hold him back.  Jesus won’t say, “I can’t come feed the hungry.  I’m waiting for my couch to be delivered.”

Jesus had just finished his journey through Galilee. “…his face was set toward Jerusalem,” we are told.  Jesus is preparing those who follow him for what lies ahead.  Jesus has in mind his death.  He is prioritizing his life and things he has to do.  From his perspective, even food and shelter are secondary.  Being human means there is an urgency to time, to our years, and our days, to our moments.

Ten days ago, someone’s son said “I’ll see you later” to his family and went out for the night.  Someone told her sister, “I’ll be back.”  They went to a nightclub expecting a night of dancing and laughter.  On June 16, 50 people were killed and 53 injured in the mass shooting at the Orlando nightclub.  364 days before that, 9 people were killed at a bible study at Mother Emanual AME church in Charleston by a white supremacist gunman who said he had wanted to start a race war.

Life is fragile.  We are not guaranteed tomorrow.  Moments matter.  Given that Jesus himself was headed toward death, his command to follow him now and not look back was not insensitivity.  It was urgency.  Every minute counts.  Every moment matters.  And not just every moment, but every person.  We are called to help bring in the kingdom of God.  What takes second place to that?

Knowing us, Jesus knows our tendency to put things off.  We have ready excuses.  What is yours?  What holds you back from rushing headfirst into following Jesus?  What do you need to do before you follow Jesus with both reckless abandon and heartfelt commitment?

Are we waiting to tell others about Jesus until we understand the theology of the atonement?  Are we waiting for our neighbors to move to live Jesus’ command to love our neighbors?  Are we waiting to speak out about racial and gender equality until it impacts our son or daughter?  Are we waiting to do something about ensuring systems value on the basic necessities of life for those with no voice and no power?  Are we waiting for God to do something other than what God has already done?  Are we waiting for someone else to do something?

You have probably heard the story about four people named Everybody, Somebody, Anybody, and Nobody.  There was an important job to be done and Everybody was asked to do it.  Everybody was sure Somebody would do it.  Anybody could have done it, but Nobody did it.  Somebody got angry about that, because it was Everybody’s job.  Everybody thought Anybody could do it but Nobody realized that Everybody wouldn’t do it.  It ended up that Everybody blamed Somebody when Nobody did what Anybody could have done.[1]

Every minute matters.  Every moment makes a difference.  “I will follow you, Jesus, after I do this,” they said. Discipleship isn’t something that comes afterwards.  Discipleship is for now, for this moment.  My husband has a saying that I found useful on many occasions, and you have heard me say before, “when given a choice take both.”  I wonder what Jesus would have said if the disciples answered his call to follow him while they were tending to the matters of their lives instead of after.  What if the one whose father died said, “I will follow you even while I am grieving.” What witness we can give to proclaim and live God’s love for us through Jesus Christ in the midst of our own suffering.

Jesus is persistent in his invitation for us to follow him.  Because every moment matters, living life in God through Christ, following Jesus, is an urgent matter.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

 

[1] Author unknown.  http://www.columbia.edu/~sss31/rainbow/whose.job.html.  Web.  Accessed June 24, 2016.

1 Kings 17:17-24    

June 5, 2016         Third Sunday after Pentecost

 

I was headed to Virginia Beach for our Gathering of the Ministerium, the annual conference of our ELCA rostered leaders in Virginia. Our bishop, our presenter and honored guests would be there, and I would be making their introductions to my colleagues. I thought about the conference, and the engaging discussions regarding best practices that would be taking place. Reviewing the days ahead in my mind, I struggled with this most difficult question. How many pairs of shoes should one pack for a three-day trip? Would four pairs be enough?  I would need presenting shoes, and just sitting around shoes, shoes suitable for walking on the beach and on the sidewalks, and they would need to be color coordinated to match my clothes. Would five pairs of shoes be enough?  My husband has some wonderful sayings, such as “When given a choice, take both,” and “Moderation is for monks.”  How much is enough?  How much is not enough?

Our reading from 1Kings raises several issues of “not enough.”   To begin with, there was not enough rain. King Ahab was ruling over Israel, and, we are told, “Ahab did more to provoke the anger of the Lord than all the other kings of Israel who were before him.”[1]  The Lord God sent a three-year drought to the land.  Walter Brueggemann says that “drought is an ancient form of energy crisis.”  He writes, “The energy crisis means that the government has failed.  The king could not cause rain, could not give life.  The king was impotent, the government was discredited.  The world had failed.”[2]

Sometimes systems fail.  Those hit hardest by any form of crisis, be it a natural disaster or an economic failing, are people who already do not have enough.  The woman in our reading this morning is one example.  She is not named, and in addition to being a woman, that is a sign that she has no status.  As a widow, she is dependent upon her son for income, and truly, even for her life. This woman does not have enough—not enough food, not enough voice, not enough family, and not enough security.

God sends the prophet Elijah to this unnamed, non-Jewish woman instructing him to tell the widow to give him food and drink.  “I have nothing baked,” she replies, “only a hand full of meal in a jar, and a little oil in a jug; I am now gathering sticks, so that I may go home and prepare it for myself and my son, that we may eat it and die.”  She was making their last supper.

Sometimes systems fail.  In VA, 23 percent of households with children live in poverty.  More than one in six children in Virginia are food-insufficient.[3]  The poverty rate in our state is 11.8%.  There is a community near here, the Grove community.  Many of the children cannot afford new shoes.  They don’t have enough simply to go to school, let alone enough to match outfits.

“I am making our last meal,” the woman said, “that we may eat it and die.”

“Do not be afraid,” Elijah tells her.  Do not be afraid?   She has been rationing what she has.  She has been conserving water and oil for years, but despite her sacrifices, they are all but gone.  Use all she has to make a meal for her son and herself, and this supposed man of God, and do not be afraid?  Elijah, who was in exile and sustained only by God’s intervention, gives her God’s assurance of a full meal jar and a never-empty jug of oil.

Just as the woman breathes a sigh of relief, her son dies.  First there was not enough food, and now there is not enough life for her son.  This widow blames Elijah, and Elijah cries out to God.  “Oh, Lord, have you brought calamity even upon the widow with whom I am staying, by killing her son?”  “The Lord listened to the voice of Elijah; the life of the child came into him again, and he revived.” Then the widow confesses “Elijah, you are a man of God.”  The king, the systems, could not help her.  It is only God who can give life.

In our gospel lesson today, we hear of another widow whose son dies.  For the sake of this widow who also does not have enough, Jesus commanded him to rise up out of his coffin, and the son is revived.  Revival from death is a theme for our readings today. Even our psalm proclaims, “O Lord, you brought up my soul from Sheol, restored me to life from among those gone down to the Pit….You have turned my mourning into dancing; you have taken off my sackcloth and clothed me with joy.”  While our readings involve those who have died and are brought back to life, physical healing is not the point.  We know that people die. The point is that God has the power to bring about a new reality.  God brings abundance out of scarcity.

We live in a world where we look at food and money and things as finite.  If I have a dollar, that is one less dollar that you have.  I need to buy more for now because tomorrow there will not be enough for everyone.  But God’s economy doesn’t play by the rules of our systems.  God’s economy is one of abundance and generosity.

Think about it.  The more love you give away, the more love you have.  We are asked to forgive 70 times 7, not just once.  The more you forgive, the more you are forgiven.  When there is only enough bread for a few, it turns into bread for many.  So just when we think that there is not enough meal, or oil, God brings an unending supply. The economy of God is a mysterious thing. God’s generosity cannot be controlled or contained.  Sometimes we are the ones God blesses to bring meals or to give new shoes, and sometimes we are the blessed who receive.

Just when you’re sure you can’t possibly make it through another day, just when you think you will not love again, or that we cannot forgive or be forgiven, God brings someone into your life to change that.  Someone sends a note, or drops off a casserole, and we are the recipients of God’s abundance.

That God came to us a a human baby who would grow to unjustly tried, convicted and executed is the greatest extravagance of all.   God became weak for our sake, giving not just a portion of himself.  He gave all of himself, weak as human flesh that suffers and dies in ways too horrible to mention.  Just when we think that life is over, Jesus is raised from the dead.  We’ve received it all.   How much is enough?

We celebrate God’s generosity at the altar, eating bread and drinking wine, the body and blood of Jesus.  We are reminded that God’s mercies are new each day. Turning not enough into never-ending, making the impossible possible, God turns our mourning into dancing.  Thanks be to God.

 

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

 

[1] 1 Kings 16:33b

[2] Brueggemann, Walter.  The Threat of Life.  Minneapolis:  Augsburg Fortress, 1996.  42.  Print.

[3] http://va.nokidhungry.org/hunger-virginia accessed 6/3/2016.

 

Romans 5:1-5               

Holy Trinity Sunday       May 22, 2016   

Whatever follows the words “I am” will always come looking for you. So, when you go through the day saying: I am blessed…blessings pursue you. I am talented;…talent follows you. I am healthy;…health heads your way. I am strong;…strength tracks you down…. You can choose to rise to a new level and invite God’s goodness by focusing on these two words: I AM![1]

This is the good news according to the popular televangelist Joel Osteen.  A good life of talent, health and strength is all up to us.  We only need to be optimistic.  Oh, the power of positive thinking!  If only St. Paul had been able to tune in to Joel, our gospel today might make us feel good!  It might have us believe that we are in control, that it is all about us and what we can do!  We could have gone right from Palm Sunday to Easter and skipped Good Friday altogether!

Listen to Paul’s words, written in the book of Romans before the prosperity gospel was broadcast.  “We…boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope.…”  What gives you hope?  Is it suffering?  “Suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope.”  If I were writing this, I might say that suffering produces pain which produces anxiety which produces fear which produces hopelessness.  Paul also says that hope does not disappoint us.  Really, Paul?  In addition to asking what gives you hope, I will ask, what crushes your hope?  I had hoped that I would not need chemo.  I had hoped that my marriage would last happily ever after.  I had hoped to be able to see him before he died. I had hoped that my parents would love me no matter what.   I had hoped…fill in the blank.

What is it that gives you hope?  Almost 40 people responded when I asked this question on my FaceBook page. Some answered this question with the most marvelous pictures of children and grandchildren.  My friend Faith sent a picture an old wrinkley couple laughing with the person posting commenting, “Honesty and humor… Knowing that others experience the same struggles and pain and live through it to tell their story and maybe even laugh again..”

My friend Teresa sent a picture of her and her husband, covered from head to foot in white soapy foam, kissing each other.  She wrote, “I never thought I’d laugh again or feel love. I cried every day in fear of nothing good ever happening again. He gave me hope and helped me rebuild my foundation.”

A picture of the brass letters “J” and “M”, for Jeremy and Matthew, connected with an “and” sign, also answered my question posted on FaceBook.  Here is what Matt wrote.  “This picture gives me hope….the fact that I can marry my best friend and love of my life in the church (denomination unimportant) gives me hope that all denominations will allow this one day. Plus it gives me peace and hope that God loves us all….”

Hear Paul’s words again, with my commentary added: Therefore, since we are justified, (we are set right with God), by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand (God sends Jesus to embody God’s love and mercy); and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God.  And not only that, but we also boast, (we do not have shame), in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.

Paul does not tell us that our suffering will end. And hear this clearly!  Paul also does not say that if you are in anguish that it is because you have offended God. Remember that Christ died for us even while we were sinners.[2]  Paul says that because of God’s love for us, given to us through Christ, poured into us by the Holy Spirit, our suffering can be redeemed.  Like death on a cross, our suffering and pain are changed through the light of God’s love.

After all, this is the God whose love was strong enough to cast seven demons out of a woman, and whose love sat down at the table to eat with the one who would betray him.  Jesus in his compassion fed those who were hungry, and made the blind see.  “Take up your mat and walk,” Jesus’ love commanded the paralyzed man, and he did.

The love of God through the cross of Christ helps us to know with sure and certain hope that we live in God’s love no matter what our circumstances. There is life beyond our frailties and that transcends our suffering. God takes that which killing us and creates something new.  With faith in God’s promises, we can find peace.  Because of Christ’s suffering and death, because of Christ’s resurrection, because we are joined with Christ in the waters of baptism, we are promised new life.  Our eternal life with God begins with our baptism and we are living in that eternal life now.

It is through suffering and death that God brings new life.   It is only through Good Friday that we have Easter, and we are Easter people.  It is God’s love that gives people the strength to endure through suffering.  It is God’s love that gives us the way to turn endurance into character.  If our hope rests on our efforts, we are certain both to disappoint and to be disappointed. It is God’s love that gives us hope—hope that will not disappoint us.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] Taken from the description on Amazon.com of Joel Osteen’s book I Am.  http://www.amazon.com/Power-Am-Words-Change-Today/dp/0892969962/ref=pd_sim_14_5?ie=UTF8&dpID=51tLr-zIDvL&dpSrc=sims&preST=_AC_UL160_SR106%2C160_&refRID=11HV340YTZASM7HM8FF7 .

[2] Romans 5:8

Acts 16:16-34

7th Sunday of Easter      May 8, 2016

 

“I put my FitBit on my dog, because I have a friend who is too competitive, and I can’t let her win.”[1]  This is not my confession, nor is it a confession from any of us who walked to Jerusalem.  This is one of the secrets posted on the web site Postsecret.com.  As an experiment, this web site was founded in 2005.  People were invited to send in postcards divulging a secret, with the qualifications that it was true and had never previously been revealed to anyone. Some of the cards people send in are simply written and some are lavishly decorated.  Postcards are posted weekly to the web site, and some submissions have been published in books.

Secrets that we keep can hold us captive.  We can become slaves trying to keep people from finding out.  Then, too, whatever it is that we are hiding can imprison us. Listen to a few secrets that people have lived with, concealing this part of themselves even from their best friends and partners.  These quotes are taken from one of Frank Warren’s PostSecret’s books.[2]

“Life is more fun with my work spouse” (31).

“I always kept my phone unlisted so my unknown father couldn’t find me.  I know he wasn’t looking but I could pretend I didn’t know”             (218).

”I keep meaning to tell you it wasn’t cancer.  She died by suicide.  I’m so ashamed” (210).

“I tell everyone I take the stairs to be environmentally friendly, but I’m really just afraid of elevators” (211).

“When my students’ parents ask me if I have any children of my own, I have to remind myself not to blurt out ‘God no!  I hate kids!’” (118).

The things that we dare not tell anyone confine us.  Sometimes we are our own jailer.

Our reading from Acts this morning is full of people held captive.  Paul and Silas encounter a slave girl while they were on their way to the place of prayer.  She had a “spirit of divination,” a spirit so active and convincing that she earned her owners a great deal of money.  How did this girl come to be owned?  Was her family’s financial situation so desperate that they sold her?  Did her mother miss her, or were both her parents dead and this was the only way this unnamed girl knew to survive?  What was it that held her captive?

She, on the other hand, declared Paul and Silas “slaves”.  She  followed them day after day, shouting, “’These men are slaves of the Most High God, who proclaim to you a way of salvation.’”[3]  Was she looking for salvation?  Did she want to be saved?  Is that why she hounded Paul and Silas day after day?

Out of sheer aggravation, Paul commanded the spirit to leave the young woman.  This in turn annoyed the slave girl’s owners, and they had Paul, Silas and the others beaten, arrested and put in jail.  Not only were they in jail, their feet also were bound in shackles.  Despite their circumstances, Paul and the other disciples were singing and praying.  Suddenly, in the darkness of the night, the ground beneath their feet began to shift.  As the earth quaked, the prison doors flung open and the chains loosened.  We have to wonder how they viewed prison because Paul and the others stayed right there.  Their source of freedom was in the one to whom they were praying.

We have to wonder, too, about the jailer, the one who was on the other side of confinement, the one who was free to come and go.  Despite the fact that he was free, this man was so bound up in his job that he was ready to kill himself when he realized the earthquake had opened the cell doors.  Although that was not the jailer’s fault, it seems his whole being, his identity was wrapped up in his job performance. He felt his honor turn into shame.  His voice piercing the darkness, Paul shouted to the jailer not to hurt himself.

Falling to the ground, and trembling the jailer asked, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” It is a good question, one that we ask every day.  What must I do to be saved from that which grips me so tightly it imprisons me?  What must I do to not be bound by shame, or pride, or fear, or pain or grief?  What must I do to be saved?

The answer is not a self-improvement program. The answer isn’t even writing your confession on a postcard and sending it to be shared with the public.   The answer is Jesus.  In the words of Paul and Silas, “’Believe in the Lord Jesus.”  The Lord Jesus, not the lord career, the lord money, the lord perfectionism, the lord alcohol, or the lord appearances.  “What must I do to be saved?”  The answer is the Lord Jesus.  Jesus saves us. Jesus redeems us through love strong enough to die for us.  Through Jesus’ life, death and resurrection, we are liberated from that which holds us captive.  We are set free.

After the jailer heard of Jesus’ love from Paul and Silas and the others, he took them to his home.  There, the jailer gently washed their wounds, and they in turn washed his with God’s mercy and love. The jailer gave them nourishment with food, and they gave him nourishment with the Word.  He and his whole family were washed clean in the waters of baptism.

The good news of Jesus Christ, who was beaten and hanged on a cross in public, cannot remain a secret.  In a world that yearns for freedom, the love of Jesus Christ that sets us free is to be shared. Just as Paul shared God’s love for us through Christ with those who were enslaved, so are we to share this good news.  We, as a community, are called to walk alongside each other and with those whom the world enslaves.  And maybe even share your FitBit with someone.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] http://postsecret.com accessed on May 4, 2016.

[2] Warren, Frank.  PostSecret:  Confessions on Life, Death, and God.  New York:  HarperCollins, 2009.

[3] Acts 16:17.

John 10:22-30    

Fourth Sunday of Easter          April 17, 2016

 

It is the fourth Sunday of Easter, and so, as it is every year, today is “Good Shepherd Sunday.”  It’s named that because that imagery is in our readings. Jesus, in our reading from John, tells us that we are his sheep, and so implicitly, he is our shepherd.  We even say “The Lord is my shepherd.”  So, today is “Good Shepherd Sunday”—again.  The same as it was on the Fourth Sunday of Easter last year.  And the year before that.  And the year before that. Every year, we are reminded that we are like sheep.  Sheep are known for being smelly and not very bright, and they need to be fleeced at least once a year.[1] I bet the wedding Pastor Ballentine is attending was scheduled for this weekend specifically so that he didn’t have to preach on these texts, again.  I don’t have a personal relationship with any sheep.  The only sheep I know are the ones in the field of Colonial Williamsburg and the ones who want you to buy that mattress.  Personally, I don’t know any shepherds either.  Do you? There must be more to this sheep/shepherd analogy.

Jesus, our good shepherd, is in Jerusalem during the time of the Festival of Dedication,  which is another way of saying this encounter took place during Hanukkah.  “Hanukkah” translates as “renewal.”  It’s Israel’s celebration of the re-consecration during the second century BCE of the Jerusalem Temple which had been destroyed.  It’s a perfect time for Israel’s Messiah, Jesus, who himself is the New Temple, to talk with the people about their consecration and their renewal.

It is winter, and Jesus seeks protection in the massive temple walls  from the winter cold.[2]  Jewish people stop him in his tracks and surround him.  “Are you the Messiah? Yes or no?  Tell us plainly!” Jesus doesn’t give a direct answer.  Jesus almost never gives a direct answer!  “Jesus always gives just enough of himself to make faith possible, and yet he also always hides just enough of himself to make faith necessary.”[3]   “Are you the Messiah?” is a loaded question!  Politically speaking, this is a dangerous affirmation for Jesus to make.  Religiously, how would this be understood?

In answering their question, Jesus uses the shepherd and the sheep analogy.  Shepherds watch out to make certain that no wolves devour them, that they are fed, and that they don’t wander away.  In other words, shepherds provide security for their sheep.  How does this translate into today’s relationships?  Who do we look to for security? Who do you trust to watch out for you?  Would that be your stockbroker or your banker?  Maybe that person is your physician. Perhaps your life partner, family or friends, or maybe even your dog make you feel safe.  Maybe you find security in things, such as your home or your bank account.  Insurance companies’ advertisements aim toward making us feel secure. Just say, “Like a good neighbor, State Farm is there,” and immediately your agent pops us next to you.  Or another insurance company holds you and your house in their giant hands.

Here’s the thing—their hands are not wounded.  Their hands do not bear the scars that Jesus’ do.  The wounds that are on the resurrected Christ’s hands show that our shepherd has fought wolves for us and won.

While we need family, friends, financial savings and medical insurance, their security and their protection is limited.  Even with good people and good institutions, we struggle to be secure. Two weeks ago, April 4, was the anniversary of Martin Luther King’s assassination.  Thirty-eight years later we still witness racial discrimination.  This past Saturday was the anniversary of the Virginia Tech shootings, and we are still working to help those with mental illness and also to protect the public. I remember that morning nine years ago when my daughter called, telling me of the campus lock-down, the fear and confusion.  Her lab partner and 2 of her classmates were killed.  Upon graduation, she began working with the families, and plans the remembrances.  April 16 is a difficult day.

It’s been a stressful and long week for me, but in the words of Paul Reier’s FaceBook page, no one had had to bail me out of jail. I know from being among you that it has for you, too.  Some of our high school students are worrying about college, and college students are wondering if there will be jobs for them when they graduate.  People I visit in the hospital are worried not only about recovering, but also about declining physical health.  There are those grieving the recent death of someone they love, and those who still can’t adjust to life without their loved one.  There are people among us who worry about paying rent, and doctors, and car expenses.

We worry about our security.  We worry about our job safety, and our physical and personal safety.  We have good people in our lives, but with whom do you feel 100% safe and secure?  Safe with your dreams, your grief, your celebrations, your hopes, your fears, your needs and your life?  With whom can you trust your expectations from and for life?

This would be a savior!  Jesus tells those who are with him at the temple, and us, who the Messiah really is, the Son who, being one with the Father, is the Giver of Eternal Life.[4]  Our savior is not our banker, our physical trainer, or even our partner.  Our Messiah is the one who holds in his wounded hands our grief, our loneliness, our fears, our spirit, and our lives.  Our savior is the one who is the one who knows every fiber of our being, who knows our hearts and souls.  Jesus, our good shepherd, knows the truth of who we are–sheep, smelly and not too bright–and yet still loves us.  When our lives seem crazy, lonely, scary or difficult, Jesus, the one who is both the Shepherd and the Lamb, holds onto us even tighter.

“No one will snatch [you] out of my hand.  What my Father has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand.  The Father and I are one.”[5]  This is God’s promise to us.  Our lives do not depend upon our hold on Jesus, but rather on Jesus’ hold of us. We are Easter people, joined forever to Christ’s suffering, death and resurrection.  Through both life and death, he holds on to us with wounded hands, and will never let us go.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] After this sermon was preached, someone reminded me that our Federal taxes are due.

[2] Bruner, Frederick Dale.  The Gospel of John:  A Commentary.  Grand Rapids:  Wm. B. Eerdman’s Publishing, 2012.  634-635.  Print.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Ibid.

[5] John 10:28b-30.

 

John 12:1-8       

Fifth Sunday of Lent   March 13, 2016

Come to our Wednesday night soup suppers and you will find that there is nothing like breaking bread together. Over a bowl of soup, things that weigh down or fill up our hearts are likely to come out.  One person will ask another about upcoming surgery.  Our college students will be asked how classes are going, and what they hope to do when they graduate. Maybe people will simply talk about the weather.  Whatever the topic, in these conversations is the Word made flesh.  Whether we recognize Jesus’ presence or not. Because Jesus became flesh, there is no human activity that is too ordinary to be holy.

Sharing meals creates bonds and memories.  Family and friends coming for dinner can be the best.  That’s when people feel free to be themselves. Gatherings around meals are where traditions begin and are lived out.  It’s the place where stories start.  One of my family’s favorite stories is the time my mother made pecan pie. After dinner, for dessert, my mother brought out the pie and tried to cut it.  It was challenging, so my father tried.  Then he got a steak knife, then the carving knife.  The story goes that he got the ax from the garage.  When that wouldn’t work, they used the pie as a door stop.  This is why I prefer cookies.

Family meals reveal the dynamics of the family system.  This is how we have come to know Martha, Mary and Lazarus.  Luke’s gospel tells us that when Jesus visited them at their home, Martha was busy running around trying to get everything ready. Mary was living in the moment, sitting and listening to Jesus.  Mary was a “P” on the Myers-Briggs Personality Scale.  We all remember Martha complained to Jesus about Mary not helping.  There’s one in every family.

We know this family also because when Lazarus fell ill, the sisters sent word to Jesus.  We learn that Jesus loved Martha, Mary and Lazarus, but by the time he got around to being there, Lazarus had died.  His body had decayed in his tomb for four days.  Martha went to meet Jesus, while Mary stayed home.  Jesus told her that those who believe in will never die, and Martha confessed her faith that Jesus was the Messiah.  Jesus commanded Lazarus to come out of the tomb, and Lazarus came out still smelling of death.  Reviving corpses was the final straw for the religious leaders.  They planned to put Jesus to death.

With the chief priests hunting for him, Jesus returned to the home of his dear friends.  It was six days before the festival of Passover.  Of course, they have a meal together.  Of course, Martha was in charge and busy, busy, busy.  She put dinner on the table and sat down next to her brother, Lazarus, who was still processing his time in the tomb and his resuscitation by Jesus. Maybe, like Jesus would after his resurrection, Lazarus’ body still bore the marks of his death.  Jesus was seated next to Judas, who wanted to use Jesus’ power and influence for his own purposes. Peter was an hour late.  He forgot to spring forward.  Chances are that James and John, along with the other disciples were there, too.  More work for Martha.  This is when the craziness started, when everyone gathered together.

Mary held in her hands a pound of perfume made from a highly fragrant essential oil.  Worth over a year’s salary, I’ve heard it said that this much essential oil would produce 10,000 bottles of Old Spice cologne.  This essential oil, or nard as the Bible calls it, is mentioned in the Song of Solomon[1] as perfume worn by a bride.  It is a sign of love.  Mary’s love for Jesus was strong enough for her to ignore cultural respectability and let her hair down.  She kneeled, and poured the perfumed oil on Jesus’ feet.  Mary did not anoint his head, as one would a king, but his feet.  She then rubbed the oil into his feet with her hair.  Mary’s hair would carry this fragrance with her wherever she went.  The perfume, her hair, her kneeling, touching him, –it was all so extraordinary and extravagant.[2]

The strangeness of this gathering continued when Judas, the one who would sell Jesus out for some silver, complained.  “Why wasn’t this perfume sold?  A family of five could live for a year on the proceeds!” “Leave her alone!” Jesus said. “She bought it so that she will have it for my burial,” If this scene was not crazy enough, Jesus’ continued response is also not what what we would expect.  “You always have the poor with you, but you will not always have me.”  In Jesus’ words are echoes of Deuteronomy (15:11), which instructs Israel to open their hands to the poor because there will never cease to be someone in need.  Jesus was not saying to ignore those in need.  We know that because we’ve heard his advocacy for them.  Jesus was saying that his time was growing short, and if Mary were going to prepare him for burial, now would be the time.

In his greedy self-centeredness, Judas was counting the cost.  Mary was not.  Judas gave himself to things that could never love him.  Mary acted out of her love.  Her lavish act was in response to the unbounded love she received from Jesus.  She sat at Jesus’ feet learning; now she was at Jesus’ feet washing them.  Within the week, Jesus’ would be washing his disciples’ feet.  What Mary has already done for him, Jesus will do for his disciples.  Jesus will wash their feet,  and tell them to serve and love one another. We will have the opportunity to wash and be washed during our worship service at St. Martin’s on Maundy Thursday.  This is what discipleship looks like when we to turn to God.

Discipleship is our response to sitting at Jesus’ feet, to seeing life come out of death, and to being loved despite our sin and despite our shortcomings.  We are loved by a God who came in human flesh, who could feel, taste and smell as we do.  Jesus enjoyed meals with friends, and cried when Lazarus died.  He ate with the one who betrayed him, and even washed his feet.

 

“That love [in our story] doesn’t seem to be devoid of emotion and passion and sensuality,” writes Debbie Blue.[3]  “How excessive for God to go this far….How could God be so immodest and insensible, to not only become incarnate in the world, to chase after us in this way…to suffer and die naked on a cross?  You would think that God would show a little more restraint than that, retain more dignity, do something more decent and pious and sensible than such a seemingly uncontained expression of passionate love.”

Our hunger for God, our thirst, our passion, our needs are met by a God who is wildly and crazy in love with us, despite our failings.  If you want to know this love, try sitting at Jesus’ feet, and coming to His table.  Our Lenten focus is Sabbath-keeping as a way to return to God, to rest in God, and to discover delight in God.  To put this more succinctly, it is about accepting God’s love, and, to use Henri Nouwen’s phrasing, becoming the beloved.[4]

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] Song of Solomon 1:12 and 4:14.

[2] The story of a woman anointing Jesus with oil appears in all four Gospels.  In Mark’s gospel, it is Jesus’ head that is anointed. John’s gospel is the only one to name the woman, and the only story to depict a woman who has an established relationship with Jesus.

[3] Blue, Debbie. Sensual Orthodoxy.  St. Paul:  Cathedral Hill Press, 2004.  101. Print.

[4] Henri Nouwen’s book Life of the Beloved (New York:  Crossroad Publishing Company, 2000) delves into discovering and living into God’s love.

Luke 13:1-9

Third Sunday of Lent     February 28, 2016

 

Why do people suffer?  There are two popular responses to this question.  One is that it is our fault, which means that we can change it.  Telling a cancer patient that if Lance Armstrong can beat cancer, they can, too, or that they just need to think positively implies that their illness is under their control.  Ask a parent of a child with autism if they have tried juicing implicitly says, “You can fix this!”

The other widespread belief is that God causes suffering.  “It’s part of God’s plan,” they say.  Tell that to someone paralyzed in a car accident, and then think about what kind of God that would be.  Personally, I’ve experienced two different cancers. I know that people do mean well when they say these things.  Sometimes their comments express a theology different than mine. God does not want people to suffer. I’ve heard people tell parents whose child has died that everything happens for a reason. Telling the parents of a child with a disability that God only gives them what they can handle also tells them that God wanted child with disabilities to be born.  Why are children born with disabilities?  Why do people get Parkinson’s disease, or chronic depression, or cancer?  Why do babies die?

Adding fuel to this fire are some TV evangelists.  Picture a wavy haired preacher with a permanent white toothy smile.  He’s authored books entitled, It’s Time: Activate Your Faith, Achieve Your Dreams, and Increase God’s Favor, and The Power of I Am: Two Words that Will Change Your Life Today. This last book preaches that we can invite God’s goodness by saying, “I am.”  Say, “I am blessed, and blessings will pursue you.  Say “I am healthy,” and health heads your way.  Say, “I am talented,” and talent follows you.  This has not worked for me.

Our experience tells us that this is simply not true. We like to think that people get exactly what they deserve in this life, good or bad. Does any child deserve to be abused or to become a refugee?  A tireless worker for racial equality, Martin Luther King was shot and killed as he stood on his balcony to talk to Southern Christian Leadership Conference members below.  On the other side, we all know people who take advantage of their position of power to inflict harm on others.  You simply need to look to the abuse that has happened in churches.  While the Catholic church made the news, no denomination has escaped.  Did you know that no hedge-fund managers or Wall Street bankers were punished for the mortgage-banking crisis?

Things get confusing because, as we have learned through our scientific methods of cause and effect, there are bad things that happen for which we are at fault.  If I eat only cookies, drink only alcohol, and do not exercise, it won’t be long until I get deathly ill. If I jump out of an airplane without a parachute, I will die.  Just like I would if I tried to ski down the Black Diamond slope.  Some bad things are consequences of our actions.  Some things are our fault.  Then there are those things for which we have no one to blame and no answers, like why young people die or why one person gets dementia and another stays sharp until age 94. How hard it is not to know why things happen!

This morning we hear people who came to Jesus asking why, and  longing to make sense of recent events.  Pilate, the Roman governor, had killed some Galileans while they were making their sacrifices in the temple, and then he mixed their blood with the sacrifices they were making.  As these events troubled people’s hearts, Jesus responded to them, “Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all the other Galileans?” In other words, did their bad behavior cause this to happen? Pay attention to Jesus’ answer.  He said, “No.”  Then Jesus tells then about another senseless tragedy of eighteen people who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them.  “Do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem?” In other words, did they deserve what happened to them?  Again Jesus answers his own question, “No.”  Jesus offers no explanation for these tragedies.  He does not say it was God’s will or divine retribution. St. Paul’s letter to the Romans is applicable here, “For there is no distinction, since all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (verses 22b-23).

Pilate’s blood bath reminds us of blood poured out at the mass shootings at Columbine and VA Tech.  Those killed by the falling of the tower of Siloam reminds us of those who were crushed when the Twin Towers toppled on 9/11.  Were they worse sinners than everyone else?  No.  Is there an acceptable explanation for these tragedies?  No.  Were these events God’s will?  No. In all these things, God’s heart is the first to break.

Even though these catastrophes are not a punishment for sin, Jesus does not throw judgment out the window.[1]  “Repent,” he tells us.  Turn back to God. God cares about how we live our lives, and how we treat each other, and how we care for God’s creation. God wants all people have a full life.

Jesus continues, telling us a parable about a fig tree in the vineyard, a fig tree with no figs on it. “Cut it down!” the vineyard owner said.  ‘It’s wasting soil!”  We, who are so results oriented, probably agree with the owner.  If your metrics at work are off for the month, you are out of there.  If something breaks, we throw it in the trash.  The gardener, however, wants to provide the tree with all it needs to thrive.  “Give it one more year. I will dig around it.  I will put natural fertilizer on it. I will give it what it needs.”  This is our God, the one who will not give up on those who stray, who sweeps the house all night looking for a lost coin, and leaves the 99 sheep to find the one has wandered away.  Our God is the father who stands on the porch waiting, looking for us to return, and runs in his robe to greet us when we come home.

Jesus did not give any answers to our questions of why.  Jesus gave us a promise and an invitation. “Come to me. Return to me. Bring your tears and your anger.  I will care for you.  I will love you in your living and your dying.”  This Lenten season, you are invited to return

[1] Food for thought –judgment and justice are inextricably linked.

Luke 4:1-13    

Lent 1     February 14, 2016

 

Here we are on the first Sunday in Lent.  If you have given up chocolate for Lent, you might think of Lent as a time of temptation.  Personally, giving up chocolate, particularly dark chocolate, or cookies, or cookies with chocolate in them, for Lent has never been an effective spiritual discipline for me.  The practice of doing without or of adding something is meant to turn us toward God, and strengthen our relationship with God and others. My lack of chocolate seems to result in making people want to stay away from me.

All kidding aside, while it is true that I no longer give up chocolate for Lent, giving up other things for Lent, such as gossip and exclusivism, can help to turn us back to God. Adding spiritual practices such as keeping a gratitude journal or practicing generosity are also ways to observe Lent.  Traditional Lenten disciplines include fasting, prayer and giving to those in need.  Whatever you choose, it should be meaningful to you, and something that will draw you closer to God.

Lent began this past Wednesday with our receiving ashes on our foreheads.  Ashes are a reminder of the cycle of life, that God created us from dust, and when we die, our bodies will decompose into dust.  Ashes are also a Biblical symbol of repentance.  You might remember reading that when people were sorry for their sins, they put on sackcloth, or scratchy clothing, and put ashes on their head. On Wednesday night, the ashes were put onto our foreheads in the shape of a cross.  This ashen cross is put on top of the cross made at our baptism.  When we recognize our need for repentance, remember that in our baptism, God has promised that nothing will ever separate us from God’s love. The ashen cross on top of our baptismal cross is a fitting reminder that God’s claim on us encompasses both our living and our dying. Lent is a time of turning and returning to God.  It lasts for forty days, just as Jesus’ time of testing in the wilderness was forty days.

The telling of Jesus’ temptation by the devil always occurs on the first Sunday in Lent.  It begins with the Holy Spirit leading him into the wilderness, a place with which we are all familiar.  The wilderness is a fierce land, where you cannot see when, and even if, life will return to normal. The wilderness is a hospital waiting room, or an unemployment office. It’s a place of extreme isolation and loneliness. You are in the wilderness when your hands shake from withdrawal, and when you discover the one who promised forever love for you has broken your trust.  Fill in your own experience of wilderness; we have all been there.  It’s the place where we pray to hear a word from God.

Jesus’ testing in the wilderness came from the devil.  Jesus had not yet preached a sermon, cast out a demon, or healed a sick person.  Quoting from Psalm 91, the devil puts forth three temptations for Jesus.[1]  When Jesus had not eaten for 40 days, the devil said, “If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread.  Then, pointing to all the kingdoms of the world, the devil told Jesus he would give it to him.  Lastly, he tempted Jesus to prove the God would save him if he jumped off of the highest point on the temple.  Jesus’ temptations were social, political and religious. The devil’s premises and promises are false, of course, but to someone in the wilderness for forty days, they sound temptingly true.

This is how the serpent was with Adam and Eve in the garden.  Theirs is another story of temptation. “Even though God told you that you would die if you eat the apple, you won’t,” the serpent told them.  “God just said that because he knows that if you eat from the tree in the garden that you will know good and evil and then be like God.”  When God discovers this and confronts the couple, the man accusingly said, “That woman you made for me, she did it!  It’s her fault!”  Thus the first wimp was made.

This story is more about insecurity and mistrust than it is about power.[2]  What the serpent did was to foster suspicion between the couple and God.  That led to relationship problems not only with God, but with each other and with the rest of creation.  How easily we are seduced!  We are seduced by power, and money, by good looks, and by chocolate.  These things can bring us into the wilderness, and then we look to them again to get us out.  But that never works.

When Jesus faces the devil, he responds with both his dependence upon and his trust in God. It is all in God’s hands.  We, on the other hand, so easily slip into thinking that our lives are all up to us.  We begin our 40 days of Lent in the wilderness because in the wilderness, we are reminded we need help.  Lent is the time for us to engage in spiritual disciplines that strengthen our relationship with God so that we turn to God to help us through.  Lent is the time for us to practice trust in God so that the temptations and seductions of this world have no power over us.

David Lose suggests this exercise to help us do that.[3]  Think of something that is important to you for which you feel certain of God’s support.  This could be love of your partner, children, or your relationship with God.  These things should be things that matter to you, that you do worry about, yet still trust God with them.

Next, think of something that is difficult to trust God with right now.  What is it that might keep you up at night?  This might be a relationship, a decision you have to make, or uncertainty in your career path or job.  Maybe your mistrust is that the devils in your life can be defeated.

Think about the things that you are able to trust God to care for, and those things that are more challenging for you to give to God.  What makes them different?  Why is one easier than the other?

During this coming week, and during the next 40 days, I invite you to give thanks daily for those things that you entrust to God, and to pray for those things which are difficult for you to place in God’s care.  I invite you to join with one or more persons in these prayers.  My door is always open. Lose reminds us the support of our Christian community helps us “to grow in our ability to trust and live out of a sense of abundance and courage rather than scarcity and fear.”[4]

In the moment of silence that follows, reflect on your joys that God holds and your challenges that you need to give to God.  Remember your baptism, and God’s claim on you in the shape of the cross.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] Many people quote scripture, and sometimes it is out of context or is not a word from God.  God’s word is meant to create, sustain and redeem.  Ask yourself if what you are hearing or reading comes from a place of love.

[2] This assessment is put forth by David Lose,  http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=2089.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Ibid.

Luke 9:28-43a

Transfiguration of Our Lord

We here in Williamsburg are known to the people of our VA Synod headquarters in Salem as “flatlanders.”  Indeed, one of the questions that serves as an icebreaker at our youth retreats is “Do you prefer the mountains or the beach?”  Even though Jesus like to hang around with fisherman, Jesus would have claimed both.  Mountaintops in the Bible are places of revelation and extraordinary encounters. They are places of holy mystery that eludes our full understanding.  How fitting that Luke’s account of the Transfiguration, transpires on a mountaintop. Jesus took his inner circle, Peter, John and James, with him up what is said to be Mount Tabor.

Jesus went to pray, and it was during this time of conversation with God that the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes looked whiter than if they had been washed with new and improved Tide.  They were dazzling.  Suddenly, they were joined by Moses and Elijah.  With their presence, the law and the prophets joined the present and the future.  They were having conversation about Jesus’ “exodus”.[1]  Trying to visualize the scene, I imagine something grand and spectacular from Steven Spielberg.  You’ve got to love the humor here.  Luke tells us that the disciples were dog-tired, but that they managed to stay awake through this breathtaking and incredible encounter.  Peter, God love him, wants to build 3 houses, one for Jesus, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.  If this were a Spielberg movie, God’s hand would come down from heaven and slap him upside the head.  But instead, God’s voice spoke through the cloud and said, “’This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!’”  Then Moses and Elijah were gone.  The disciples never told anyone.

A large crowd gathered around Jesus after they had come down from the mountain.  Once again, Jesus was met with human need.  The disciples had not been able to heal a boy seized by demons. The boy’s father pleaded with Jesus to do it, and he did.  Even Jesus can’t stay up on the mountain.  There comes a time to go back to every day life, but the time spent in prayerful retreat gives energy to come back.  This is what worship does for us.  We are restored, and sent back out to be the church in the world. Encountering Jesus changes how we see things.  This is what happened at the Transfiguration.  Jesus did not change.  How the disciples saw him is what changed.

It is in meeting the transfigured Jesus that we are changed.  If we allow Jesus to transfigure us, we will see people differently.  But there is no way that Peyton Manning will look like Cam Newtown in this evening’s game.  Seeing is an interesting sense.  Did you know that each of our eyes has a small blind spot in the back of the retina where the optic nerve attaches.  We don’t notice the hole in our vision because our eyes work together to fill in each other’s blind spots.  That’s what Jesus does for us, and we can do for each other—fill in each other’s blind spots so that we see people differently, or even see them at all.

Those who have no permanent home are often invisible.  It is much easier not to see them.  There exists pre-conceived notions of “the homeless.”  They don’t work, and they don’t want to work.  They did this to themselves. They are loners and want to avoid other people.  They are dangerous.  They did this to themselves.    If you met someone who has no permanent home, or have talked with anyone involved in a shelter or feeding program, you know these views are not the reality.

Talking with a person in a shelter, you will find that he is so proud of his son, who plays football and is looking at going to college.  You will witness a mother doing homework with her child.  Two guys come in late for dinner because they had just gotten off from work.  Sandy Peterkin, who serves tirelessly to help prepare meals, wrote an enlightening article for our February newsletter.  Taking a train to DC recently, Sandy saw some of the guests of the shelter.  There they were in a different context.  The people hugged Tom and Sandy.  Several people asked Sandy to watch their things for a moment.  Nadine offered Sandy bananas to sustain her on her trip. Those who search for shelter have learned that they are not welcome most everywhere and so become wary of people.  This encounter of mutual embrace was made possible because God opened Tom and Sandy’s hearts to see “the homeless” as people of God’s making.  Because Tom and Sandy were a tangible sign of God’s holy presence, Nadine and her friends saw Tom and Sandy differently, too.

Transfiguration will open our eyes to recognize that we all are valued children of God.  Recently I read a blog written by Sheri Dacon.[2]  Sheri is a Texan who describes herself as a nerd, and a cake snob.  Sheri’s blog focused on her family, including her “special needs” child, Travis. She says that how people treated them taught her that love is conditional. Travis didn’t fit into people’s idea of what “lovable” looks like.  Sheri writes, “I grew ashamed of expecting love.  I was made to feel that it was something wrong on my part.  That I should know better than to expect love and acceptance when my family couldn’t get our act together.”

Making it to church on Sunday mornings, Sheri writes, “is exponentially more difficult than what other families go through.”  She tells us that being the parent of a special needs child is to be in a constant state of alertness, and she had hoped that the Sunday morning faith formation classes would allow her the respite she needed to have fellowship with other adults and time to focus on her own spiritual walk, but was always told that she was required to stay with Travis.

One morning, Sheri and Travis showed up at class, and the teacher told her she did not need to stay.  “’We’ve got it covered,” he said.  “It’s not a problem.  He smiled.  “It’s not ever gonna be a problem.’”  Travis had been treated like a problem since he was age 5, his mom said.  This Faith Formation teacher did not see a problem.  This teacher saw a child. This teacher saw a unique person created by God.  “Tears welled up in my eyes,” Sheri writes, “because in his words, in his simple statement, I felt the presence of the Lord Jesus in that room as clearly as I’ve ever felt anything.  My son’s teacher was awash in the love of the Holy Spirit and it came through in his face, his words, his demeanor, his attitude.”

This is what transfiguration looks like when we come down from the mountain.  Transfiguration isn’t about us, but rather about God shining through us in a way that makes a difference.  Transfiguration is a tangible sign of God’s holy presence.  It is God visible through us.

“He is my Son,” God says.  “Listen to him.”  Listen to him when he says, “I love you.”  Listen to him when he says, “Love one another as I have loved you.”  Listen to him, Jesus, the one who himself is God’s presence, made tangible to us this day in bread and wine, and each other.

~Pastor Cheryl Ann Griffin

[1] NRSV uses the word “departure”.  “Exodus” is another translation of the Greek.

[2] http://sheridacon.com/2014/11/10/church-is-a-burden-for-special-needs/