Good Shepherd Sunday: A Sermon for Sunday April 30, 2023
The following sermon was preached on Sunday April 30, 2023 at St George's Transcona. You can learn more about St George's and find links to their YouTube channel by clicking here
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable and pleasing in your sight O God, for you are our rock and our redeemer. Amen.
Today is the fourth Sunday in the Easter season and this Sunday is commonly referred to as Good Shepherd Sunday. Most of today’s readings focus on the image of Christ as the Good Shepherd.
But actually, if you go and look at the gospel reading, Jesus does describe himself as a shepherd but he also devotes a decent amount of time to saying he is a gate.
But maybe “Good Gate Sunday” just doesn’t have the same ring as “Good Shepherd Sunday.
“The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”
Psalm 23 paints a beautiful picture of God’s abundance.
We lie down in green pastures, we walk beside quiet waters. Our heads are anointed with oil, our souls are refreshed, our cup overflows and we feast at a table lovingly prepared for us.
We can walk through the darkest valley without fear, and proclaim confidently that “surely goodness and mercy will follow [us] all the days of our [lives.]
It’s beautiful but what the psalm doesn’t say is that usually shepherds don’t have just one sheep, they usually have a flock.
The psalm also doesn’t say that while following the Shepherd can be hard, getting along with the other sheep is often way harder.
The book of Acts, where our first reading came from, tells the story of the first people who chose to follow the resurrected Christ. It’s the story of the first sheep. The first Christians who had to figure out how to get along with each other.
And in today’s passage, they’re doing a really great job, but spoiler alert for the next few weeks, things aren’t always this rosy.
Although we often refer to the Bible as a book, it’s really a collection of books or, even more accurately, a collection of various types of writing – there are historical books, books of prophecy, books of poetry, letters, all kinds of writing.
The lectionary doesn’t cover every single verse in the Bible, and it can be really interesting to see what it chooses to leave out but generally speaking, in our three year cycle of readings we read most of the Bible.
We read four passages from the Bible every week, one from each of the four main sections of the Bible.
The first reading is from the Old Testament, which many people are now calling the Hebrew Scriptures in an attempt to be respectful to our Jewish siblings who also consider these to be holy writings. Calling them “old” feels disrespectful and dismissive.
So first we get a passage from the Hebrew Scriptures and then we get a psalm. The Book of Psalms is sometimes called the songbook or prayer book of the Bible which is why I ask you to pray it with me, not just read it with me.
Next comes a selection from the second part of the New Testament. These are letters or other writing by people who lived after Jesus, most of whom had never met him. They detail the lives of the earliest Christians.
And then we get a reading from one of the first four books of the New Testament. We call these four books the gospels. Gospel literally means “good news.” Each one of these books tells the story of Jesus’ life on earth. Because we are hearing words directly from Jesus or about Jesus we treat this reading with a bit more reverence. We sing before and after it, and we stand up – if we’re able – while the gospel is being read.
Standing can be seen as a sign of respect, but it also has a different purpose in the liturgy. The gospels are meant to inspire us to act. So the idea is that we’re all standing at the ready and if you are so inspired by the reading that you need to leave and go do something about it you’re ready to walk right out of the church and do whatever it is you’re feeling called to do.
I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone actually leave at this point in the service, but if you ever feel so inspired, please do!
So that’s how our cycle of readings normally works, until it doesn’t.
In this season after Easter, our first readings don’t come from the Hebrew Scriptures, they come from the New Testament book of Acts.
And because we’re going to be in the book of Acts for a little while, I thought it might be helpful to talk about that book in general, before diving into our specific reading for today. I want to thank Willie James Jennings for his excellent commentary on Acts which I have found to be a really helpful resource.
Acts is story of revolution. It’s a story told by a master storyteller about the “disrupting presence of the Spirit of God.”
Listen to how Jennings describes it:
“The book of Acts is like the book of Genesis. It announces a beginning but without the language of a beginning. Like Genesis it renders without pomp and flag-waving a God working, moving, creating the dawn that will break each day, putting into place a holy repetition that speaks of the willingness of God to invade our every day and our every moment.
This God of Israel waits no more for the perfect time to be revealed. Now is the time, and here is the place…God moves and we respond. We move and God responds… Cards are on the table and the curtain is drawn back, and God acts plainly, clearly, and in ways that are irrevocable. There is no going back now.” (1-2)
The book of Acts unfolds at a breakneck pace and each chapter shows the early Christ followers learning just how inclusive their new community was going to be. Group after unexpected group receives the Holy Spirit and is added to their number.
The reading we got from Acts this morning is one of my favourites. It paints such a beautiful, inspiring picture of the first community of Jesus followers.
It’s a short passage, so let’s listen to it again. As I read is there anything in particular that jumps out as you as inspiring, or challenging or even scary?
Listen with curiosity not judgement:
“They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.
43 Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles. 44 All who believed were together and had all things in common; 45 they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. 46 Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, 47 praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.”
It's beautiful isn’t it? These early Christ followers “devote themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.”
They shared everything they had with each other, but not just with each other like some exclusive club, they also sold their possessions to help anyone who was in need.
And this way of living, this generous outward focused way of living was so attractive that every single day more and more people chose to join them.
If I saw people living like that I’d be inspired to join them as well. But I haven’t found many examples of Christian communities that function like this today. I know a few, but not many.
So what happened? Why don’t most Christian communities today look like this?
A lot of people look at these early Christians and write them off – sure that was fine for back then, but it’s impossible now. It’s just not practical for us to share all of our possessions and all of our money with each other.
Other people look at the current church and try to write that off instead –the current church has failed, we just need to go back and behave like they did in the book of Acts.
My strong preference is to be like that second group of people, and I’ve tried. I spent a long time trying to build a community like that and connecting with other people who were doing the same. It’s hard, and the number of people who are willing to try is small.
But as with most things, I think it’s unhelpful to stick to extremes. It’s not helpful to just dismiss this passage as impractical and it’s not helpful to be judgmental and just check out of modern expressions of the Christian faith either.
The world is very different than it was in the book of Acts, we can’t simply travel back in time or transport that model exactly as it is into the present day.
But I do think we can be inspired to try and make our current Christian communities look more like the community in Acts.
Even if we don’t all empty our individual bank accounts and create a single joint account tomorrow, we still have something to learn from our Christian ancestors.
The first thing I think we can take from this reading is that the way those first Christians were living was different and distinctive. They didn’t just blend into their society.
So the question for us could be, is the way we’re living, is the way we function as a parish, different and distinctive from the people around us? How so? And if it’s not, why not?
The second thing is that those first Christ followers had a very generous way of living. The first Christians gave everything they had to the community and as a result they had so much that they were able to meet not only their own needs, but the needs of other people as well.
So the question could be, how much of your resources do you use to satisfy your own wants and needs and how much do you give to others? And as a parish? How much of our resources go to meeting your own needs and how much to meeting the needs of others?
This generous outward focused way of living means that those first Christ followers lived with open hands, they rejected notions of scarcity. They lived without fear and they were rewarded for doing so.
What would happen is we leaned more into living like that?
There are a lot of other things we can take from this passage and from the Book of Acts but here’s the final one I want to look at today. Their way of living was attractive. It was different, it was generous, and people were attracted to it. Every single day more people chose to join this group and live in this way.
So the question is, are we living in a way that is attractive to others? If not, why not? I can’t answer these questions for you, but I do think that it’s worth pondering. Is our way of life different, generous and attractive to others? And if it’s not, why not?
What could we do to recapture the excitement and enthusiasm and generosity that those first followers in Acts had?
Honestly, after the past few years, the first thing we might all need is a really long nap. It’s hard to be inspired when you’re exhausted.
But then, I wonder what it would look like to be inspired by the people in Acts and to begin to dream big, distinctive, generous Christ – like dreams.
Because that sounds like good news to me. And I suspect it would look like good news to other people too.
In the strong name of the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen.
Puzzled: A Sermon for Sunday April 23, 2023
The following sermon was preached on Sunday April 23, 2023 at St George's Transcona. You can learn more about St George's and find links to their YouTube channel by clicking here. Photo by Hans-Peter Gauster on Unsplash
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable and pleasing in your sight O God for you are our rock and our redeemer. Amen.
You may know that I do a lot of puzzles. I do them for fun but also because they help me with things like writing sermons. If I’m stuck staring at a blinking cursor on my computer with no idea what to write next, I set a timer, go work on a puzzle for say 15 or 30 or 45 minutes and then come back to the computer.
Puzzling is just enough of a shift in brain activity that I can usually solve my writing puzzle while doing the physical puzzle.
If that doesn’t work, a walk often does, and if that doesn’t work well…. not every sermon can be a winner.
I do a lot of puzzles but I am also pretty picky about the ones I do. Despite how much I like dogs, I don’t like most puzzles with pictures of puppies on them. I also have brands I prefer because I know they make quality puzzle pieces regardless of the pictures.
Sometimes when a puzzle wasn’t created very well, it’s not always clear if you have a piece in the right place. Poorly constructed pieces can sometimes fit in spaces where they aren’t really meant to fit.
I hate that.
Sometimes, I know I need a particular piece and I look and I look and I sift and I sort and I just can’t seem to find it. I know I need an orange piece with three outies and one innie and it’s got to be in the box but I just can’t find it.
Until suddenly I realize I’ve been staring at the piece I needed the whole time, I just hadn’t recognized it.
Our gospel story begins, “Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all the things that had happened.” (13-14)
Seven miles is a little over 11 kilometers so this is a decent walk. More than long enough to have a rich detailed conversation, if you’re so inclined.
So, two of them are walking, which two? One is a man named Cleopas, he is named in the text, and N.T. Wright speculates that the second person is his wife, Mary. There is a story in the gospel of John about a married couple with those names and Wright believes that it is likely that these are the same people. (John 19:25).
So if Wright is correct, Mary and her husband Cleopas are walking to Emmaus talking about current events, and there would have been a lot to talk about. There hadn’t been a slow news day in quite some time. First Jesus was arrested, then tried, then crucified and then well, the next part of the story was rather… puzzling.
Beyond current events, we don’t know exactly what they were talking about but whatever the content of the conversation, the purpose of the conversation was most likely to try and make meaning out of everything that had happened. To try and put the pieces together and wrap their heads around all of the ways their lives had been turned on their heads in such a short period of time. To try and make sense of things and to try and decide what they should believe, how they should feel, what they should do next.
I suspect we all can relate to this unsettled feeling. I suspect you have all had an experience where suddenly everything changed, where the things you thought were true, the things you thought you could trust, just vanished.
Maybe it was the pandemic. When suddenly going out to eat or going to church or just breathing near people became a deadly activity. Or maybe it was when a relationship or a job ended unexpectedly or when someone you loved died.
Whatever it was, everything changed. You thought you knew what the future was going to look like and now… you don’t.
This is what Mary and Cleopas are experiencing, walking on the road, trying to make sense of things that make no sense.
It is at this point, that Jesus appears and joins them on their walk, but they don’t realize that it is Jesus. (15)
It’s not that Jesus was automatically unrecognizable, the text tells us that, “their eyes were kept from recognizing him.” (16). Jesus approaches them and asks, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” (17)
After Jesus asks the question, we’re told, “They stood still, looking sad.” (17)
This question stops them in their tracks… literally. They just stop walking and stay still, looking sad.
Jesus has asked them a question, “What are you talking about?” and now Mary and Cleopas have a choice to make – will they tell the truth to this stranger, or will they lie? Will they admit that they are talking about Jesus? Will they admit that they are also followers of Jesus?
It’s a difficult decision to make, this man is a stranger and they have no reason to trust him, they have no reason to trust that if they tell this stranger that they are followers of Jesus Christ that they won’t be reported to the authorities.
It makes no sense for them to trust this stranger with their lives.
And yet, that is what they choose to do.
Even though it was dangerous, they not only tell Jesus the basic details of recent events, they boldly make it clear that they were among Jesus’ followers. They don’t say, “Jesus of Nazareth who some people thought was a prophet,” they say, “Jesus of Nazareth who was a prophet, mighty in deed and word before God and all the people.” (19)
Of this they are confident, Jesus was a prophet. But then, as they continue to tell the story, their confidence wavers. “We had hoped he was the one to redeem Israel.” (21)
“We had hoped,” they said.
Now those hopes are gone. They had believed that Jesus was a prophet, but more than that, that he was the Messiah. The one who would save Israel. And now they’re not sure.
Jesus died, which logically means he couldn’t have been the Messiah. Or at least, that’s what they’d thought for the past few days, but now, some members of their company have claimed to have seen Jesus alive so… what are they supposed to believe?
We had hoped.
Mary and Cleopas are in mourning. They are mourning the death of Jesus, who they had hoped would be the Messiah who would save them.
But they are also in mourning for the future they thought came with that. A future where they and their people were no longer colonized by the Romans.
They are in mourning for a future where they would be free – free of fear, free to worship the way they wanted to, free to be who they were without the need to hide or worry that someone would hurt or kill them just for being Jewish.
Being with Jesus had given them hope for a better future and they had dared to dream and to believe that it could come true.
But now, that hope is gone.
“We had hoped,” they say.
They are walking home trying to make sense of this change, trying to regroup, trying to imagine a world where the future they longed for is no longer possible.
I have never believed I had met God in human form only to be completely disappointed when he turned out to be just an ordinary human, but I have had situations where I allowed myself to believe in a vision of the future that never came true.
I have had experiences where suddenly, and without warning, everything I thought was true, everything I thought I could rely on, every dream I had just… vanished.
I have had moments where I felt the way I imagine Mary and Cleopas felt as they were walking that day, telling their story to this strange man they met on the road.
Jesus listens to Mary and Cleopas, even though he actually knows the whole story. Never underestimate the value of listening to someone else’s story. Even if you already know the basic details, there is power in letting someone talk and listening when they do.
And after he listens, Jesus says, “You’ve got everything you need to understand what is going on, you’ve just got the puzzle pieces all mixed up. Here, let me sort it out for you.”
And then, Luke tells us that, beginning with the stories of Moses and all the prophets, Jesus beings to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together. Without revealing his own identity, he fits all the details of scripture and current events together to show who the Messiah is and why he had to die. (25-27)
He doesn’t finish the puzzle though, he saves the final piece for later in the story.
When their destination is in sight, Mary and Cleopas invite Jesus to stay with them and he agrees. They eat a meal together and during that meal, Jesus takes bread, blesses it, breaks it and gives it to them. It’s the final piece of the puzzle, the image suddenly clicks into focus.
Luke tells us, “Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. They said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” (30-32)
They were so excited, that they leave their home and go all the way back to Jerusalem, another seven miles, so that they can tell the other disciples what has happened. When they find them they tell the disciples everything that had happened and they said, “he was made known to us in the breaking of the bread.” (33-35)
And that is where our reading for today ends which feels like a bit of a cliffhanger to me. Do the disciples believe Mary and Cleopas, what happens next?
Well thankfully, we don’t have to rely entirely on the lectionary here, we can just flip through a Bible and read the next part of the story.
And the next thing that happens in the story is that Jesus appears to all of them. He’s just suddenly … there. (36)
Which freaks everyone out at first because they think he’s a ghost but eventually everyone calms down, they realize that it’s not a ghost, that it really is Jesus, in the flesh.
There is still a lot of fear and confusion in the room, but also joy. Jesus is alive!
And then they all eat together, and talk together and Jesus gently puts the pieces of the puzzle together for all of them.
But here’s the thing, when Jesus has finished explaining, the picture of the puzzle looks… different than what the disciples had expected. Not bad, it’s pretty beautiful actually, but it’s different.
Their joy has been restored, their hope has been restored, but the future they had hoped for? It’s gone.
Something better has replaced it.
They will need time to grieve the world they had hoped for, and to adjust to this new reality, but eventually they will see that God’s plan is a good plan for them, and for everyone who will come after them.
I’m not sure if you’re in a “I had hoped” place today, grieving a dream for the future that will not come true, of if you are in a hopeful place, building a dream for a new future, but wherever you are, Jesus is there also.
Jesus is with you wherever you are on the road, and Jesus is with us today, in our worship and in the breaking of the bread.
Which is good news.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
It's All in the Details: A Sermon for Easter Sunday 2023
The following sermon was preached on Sunday April 10, 2023 at St George's Transcona. You can learn more about St George's and find links to their YouTube channel by clicking here.
Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable and pleasing in your sight O God, for you are our rock and our redeemer. Amen.
Christ is risen! He is Risen Indeed! Alleluia!
Happy Easter everyone!
Everything this week – the waving palms, the shared meal, the sorrow at the foot of the cross has been leading to this day. This day that changed everything.
In the Bible there are four different gospel books, four different books that tell us about Jesus’ life on earth. There are similarities of course, but there are also differences in the way each writer tells the story.
This year our cycle of readings, the lectionary, has us looking at the resurrection story in the gospel of John. One of the unique features in John’s gospel is the way he gives us dramatic scenes of individual encounters with the risen Christ. He doesn’t just tell us the basic facts of what happened, he invites us into the story.
Jesus was crucified on Friday, and then his body was taken down from the cross, wrapped in linens and placed in a tomb. A large stone was rolled in front of the opening and Roman soldiers stood guard outside.
So when Mary Magdalene goes to the tomb, that is what she is expecting to find, but she is about to be surprised.
Today’s gospel reading began, “Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple…”
We’re going to get to Mary shortly but first I want to focus on these two men for a little bit. I really like saucy people, and the unnamed man in this story is pretty saucy.
This unnamed disciple is commonly thought to be John, the author of this gospel . So it could be argued that it’s an act of humility that he is unnamed. Mary Magdelene is named, Simon Peter is named, but the second man is not named.
However, is it really all that humble to leave out your name if what you do instead is call yourself, “the one Jesus loved?” (2)
I don’t think so.
And is it really humble to describe racing to the tomb with Peter and point out that you ran faster than Peter did and you beat him to the tomb? (4)
What makes me chuckle at these kinds of details without beginning to worry that perhaps this is an arrogant, and therefore unreliable narrator, is the fact that the writer also tells us that although he reached the tomb first, Peter was the first person to go inside. (5)
Why race to be the first one to reach the tomb and then stop without going inside? Maybe he was afraid. Maybe the gravity of the situation hit him and he wanted a few more minutes before he had to deal with what he assumed he would find – that Jesus’ body had been stolen.
Maybe you’re there too. The liturgies of Holy Week ask us to sit in particular scenes in the life of Christ and in particular emotions. If you haven’t quite caught up with the joy of Easter Sunday, that’s OK, be ever so gentle with yourself. We’re glad you’re here.
Peter goes inside the tomb. He finds the linen that Jesus’ body would have been wrapped in lying there. The linen wrappings weren’t just tossed on the ground either. The gospel tells us that the “cloth that had been on Jesus’ head” was rolled up and separate from the other wrappings. All of these details suggest that Jesus’ body wasn’t merely stolen – because why would you unwrap a body that had been dead for several days before stealing it? Why would you take the time to carefully roll up the wrappings that covered his head?
You wouldn’t. That’s gross.
The two men examine these things and return to their homes. (10)
And that’s all we hear about them in today’s reading. They will re-appear again in future passages, but for today’s story, they exit the scene.
Why give us a detail like which disciple was the fastest runner and not tell us what they thought or said when they discovered the empty tomb? Or what they talked about on the way home. Or how they felt?
Maybe because some things are just too big for words.
But by the time this was written, the author could have found some words, he could have stayed with the two disciples and continued to tell the story from their perspective, but he doesn’t, the two male disciples exit the scene, and the story continues with a focus on Mary.
Now before we go any further, there are a lot of Mary’s in the Bible, so who is Mary Magdalene?
Since the Middle Ages she’s often been referred to as a prostitute but she wasn’t. Inaccurately describing her as a prostitute is meant to diminish her role in the story. It’s meant to draw focus from the fact that she was one of the earliest followers and supporters of Jesus’s work.
Because if you acknowledge Mary Magdalene was disciple, you have a harder time telling women that they can’t be leaders in the church than if you say she was a prostitute.
Earlier I mentioned that we have four different gospel accounts of Jesus’ life and there are similarities and differences between them.
All four gospels writers say that Mary Magdalene was at the tomb and all four gospel writers say it was Mary who told the disciples that Jesus was risen from the dead.
Mary’s role and her faithful support of Jesus have been erased and ignored by the church for centuries. If I say too much more then we’re all in for a very long rant about patriarchy and the erasure of women in the church which we should probably save for another day. Many of you probably have lunch plans after the service and I wouldn’t want you to be late.
So let me just say that a lot of work has been done to reclaim Mary and her role in the church, and we now honour her with the title, “Apostle to the Apostles.”
Apostle means “sent.” Mary is the first person who sees the risen Jesus and the first person who is sent to tell others the good news of the resurrection.
But we’re getting ahead of the story.
Mary arrives at the tomb when it is still dark, she sees the stone has been rolled away and runs to tell the two disciples about it.
Mary tells them that “they have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.”
They all return to the tomb, the disciples confirm that Jesus is not there, and they return home. They don’t seem to stop to talk to Mary, or to comfort her, they just… leave.
Mary stays. Mary stays and stands outside the tomb weeping. (10)
Eventually, she peeks inside the tomb and sees two angels sitting in the place where Jesus’ body should have been. (11)
The angels ask her why she is crying and she says, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” (13) Mary then turns around and Jesus is standing right behind her, but she doesn’t recognize him.
She thinks he’s the gardener.
And then Jesus says her name and suddenly she knows who he is. (16)
Jesus sends Mary to tell the good news to the other disciples, hence her title Apostle to the Apostles.
Jesus also tells her not to hold onto him. I suspect that he has to say this because as soon as she realizes who he is and that he is alive, she tackles him with a gigantic bear hug. (17)
She doesn’t care that she’s a mess, tears streaming down her face, Jesus is alive! She’s going to hang onto him.
If she stood aloof and at a distance, Jesus wouldn’t have had to ask her not to hang onto him.
Mary does what Jesus tells her to do. She lets go of Jesus and she goes to share the good news. John tells us that, “Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, ‘I have seen the Lord!” (18)
In a great sermon from a few years ago, Nadia Bolz Weber writes, “… when Mary Magdalene, this imperfect woman, stood at the tomb, she didn’t encounter some perfected radiant glowing Jesus that morning. Seriously, no offense to gardeners but Jesus couldn’t have been looking all that tidy and impressive if she mistook him for a gardener: And here’s the thing: I like to think that Mary Magdalene mistook the resurrected Christ for a gardener because Jesus still had the dirt from his own tomb under his nails.”
When Mary sees the angels in the tomb, she knows they’re angels. When she sees Jesus, she thinks he’s a gardener.
What does it mean to worship a God with dirt under their nails? What does it mean to worship a God who loved us so much that they were willing to live and die as one of us? A God who was willing to get their hands dirty. What does it mean to worship a God who doesn’t need us to clean up and pretend we’re perfect before we can follow them?
It sounds like good news to me.
Mary encounters the risen Christ in the garden and her life is forever changed.
This story changed and continues to change my life. Maybe it has changed yours too.
What will your response to the resurrection be? What will our response be as a parish? How will we live in this new reality of resurrection? This reality that God is bigger than death and gives us all new life?
In the days and weeks to come as we explore the stories of how those first followers of Jesus began to live in the new reality of the risen Christ I hope we will also be challenged and encouraged to shape our own lives in new ways as well.
But those are stories for another today. Today is a day to celebrate because…
Christ is risen! He is Risen Indeed! Alleluia! Amen.
Telling the Truth about Terrible Things: A Sermon for Good Friday 2023
The following sermon was preached on Friday April 7, 2023 at St George's Transcona. You can learn more about St George's and find links to their YouTube channel by clicking here.
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable and pleasing in your sight O God, for you are our rock and our redeemer. Amen.
Last Sunday we waved palm branches and shouted “Hosanna.” Last night we ate with Jesus and he washed our feet, and then we fell asleep while he prayed in the garden. Today we gather together at the foot of his cross.
Welcome to Good Friday.
I have been going to church since before I was born and during the first half or so of my life I went to churches that did not celebrate Good Friday.
I mean, there was a service on the Friday before Easter Sunday, but it was almost exactly the same as the Easter Sunday service. In both the Friday and the Sunday services we would quickly acknowledge that Jesus had died and then move to focus on celebrating the resurrection. Both services felt the same.
And without even realizing it, I picked up the message that this was how I was supposed to deal with hard things in my own life too – acknowledge them briefly and then move quickly to the resurrection, to the lesson, to the silver lining.
There is a fancy term for this – spiritual bypassing. Spiritual bypassing is when a person uses spiritual language to avoid dealing with difficult things. It’s a way of minimizing or distancing ourselves from real and difficult things in order to feel better in the short term. It may provide short term relief, but it doesn’t make the problems go away and it prevents us from doing the hard work we need to do to actually deal with what is happening.
It sounds very holy, but it isn’t. It sounds like:
Oh sure, the systems around me are crumbling and I can’t trust my leaders but I don’t have to worry, and I don’t have to do anything because “God must have a plan!”
Oh sure, our trans and indigenous siblings live with the very real fear that they will be killed just for being who God created them to be, but let’s not talk about it, let’s focus on the positive.
Oh sure my life is absolutely falling apart right now and I am mired in a grief that makes it almost impossible to breathe but you know, “everything happens for a reason!”
It sounds like pretending every day is Easter Sunday.
And that’s what I thought I was supposed to do. I did not allow myself to be a Good Friday person, even on Good Friday.
The first time I went to a Good Friday service at an Anglican Church I couldn’t believe what I was experiencing. The church was pretty bare. There were no flowers or decorations and we didn’t hear the whole Easter story. At the end of the service, Jesus had not risen from the dead.
At the end of the service, Jesus was still dead.
At that Good Friday liturgy we were asked to stay in the Good Friday part of the story. We were asked to leave the church in silence. We were asked to sit in that space of grief and loss and unknowing until we returned on Sunday morning.
I LOVED IT.
It was one of the things that made me decide to join the Anglican church, a church which is far from perfect, but I loved that liturgy could invite us to acknowledge the whole range of human emotions and the whole story of Holy Week.
I loved that there was a liturgy that gave us permission to sit in a hard place and didn’t rescue us or force us to pretend we were feeling victorious by the closing hymn.
And this is what we are all being invited to do today.
There was no formal dismissal at the end of last night’s service and there won’t be one at the end of today’s service either. There is no dismissal because all of our gatherings from Maundy Thursday through Easter Sunday are considered one continuous liturgy that take place over several days as we watch, wait and celebrate the mystery of Christ’s death and resurrection.
Our Thursday and Friday services end not with a “Go in peace to love and serve the Lord,” but with a “To be continued…”
In a stunning sermon from a number of years ago, Sara Miles said that, “I’d like to pretend that Good Friday, the murder of God by the people of God, is a one-time historical event. That it took place far away, in another country, safely in the past. That someone very different from me – a Jew, most probably, or some crazy rogue solider – was responsible for the crucifixion… and Good Friday just means another day in a church with beautiful music.
Crucifixion is always an act of terror, meant to carry a message to the entire population that the rulers of the world are all-powerful, and can crush anyone they choose. In Jesus’ time, the cross meant not just punishment for criminals and troublemakers, but shame for their families, who were marked forever by the scandal… The mere threat of death on the empire’s cross led people to betray each other; it kept them in their places, separated and afraid to offer solidarity.
And it still does, evoking our deepest fears of being cast out, mocked, hurt or violently erased, stigmatized by association with the wrong people. Today’s forms of crucifixion – Sara said – [left her] afraid to care for the imprisoned, afraid to challenge the violent, too busy or guilty or helpless to even stand next to the families of the dead and weep.”
Fear can divide and separate us and there is a lot of fear in the Good Friday story, but some people in this story act bravely despite their fear and the very real danger their actions put them in.
The gospel writers tell us that Jesus was not alone when he was crucified. In addition to the various people responsible to ensure the crucifixion was properly carried out like the Centurion, there were other people who came to see what was happening.
Mark names some of these people – Salome, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the Mother of James and Joses. (15: 40) Mark tells us that there were also “many other women,” who stayed to bear witness to Jesus’ suffering. (41)
I imagine that at least some of the bystanders were there out of morbid curiosity or simply as a way to pass the time. We know that at least some of them thought that perhaps Elijah would come and remove Jesus from the cross. I suppose that if you had nothing else to do in a culture where public executions are the norm, the possibility of seeing Elijah would be worth sticking around for.
We know that no one was there to try and stop the crucifixion. That impulse that had led Peter to pull out a sword in the garden doesn’t seem to be anywhere in sight at the foot of the cross.
Which means that the people who are present are resigned to the fact that unless supernatural forces intervene, Jesus is going to suffer and die, and they have chosen to be there when that happens.
They can’t change what is going to happen, but they’re not going to ignore it either. They are not going to leave Jesus alone as he suffers and dies.
Thankfully I have never experienced the agonizing pain of death by crucifixion, but I have experienced pain. And in those times, I have needed people who weren’t afraid to see me in pain, who were willing to sit with me in a Good Friday space. I needed people who were willing to let me be in that Good Friday space for as long as I needed to be there.
One of my favourite books is “Everything Happens for a Reason and Other Lies I’ve Loved” by Kate Bowler.
Kate’s from Winnipeg, I met her a few times, I preached regularly at her parent’s church, and then one day I found out she had cancer…. the really bad kind. She was probably going to die.
Not long after that I also found out that Kate and I had both been selected to attend a retreat for writers. She wrote most of “Everything Happens” at that retreat.
I remember watching her, smoke flying from the keys as she wrote as if her life depended on it and I wondered if she would live to finish the book.
I didn’t care about the book actually, Kate had very quickly become someone I loved, someone very dear to me, and I couldn’t imagine that she might die.
But there was nothing I could do, except participate in the retreat and try to be a friend. A cancer diagnosis isn’t something I have any power to do anything about.
Kate’s story is an Easter story. She published that book and she’s still here. But her experiences have really taught her how to stay present in Good Friday situations.
Kate taught me that when everything comes apart and we are in pain, we need people who are willing to stay with us in that pain and say one thing, “Oh, sweetie, this is just so hard.”
This is what the named women and other bystanders are doing for Jesus, sitting with him in his pain. Bearing witness. You will notice in the scripture and in the music for this service that words like “look” and “see” and “behold” are prevalent. This is no accident.
On this day we claim the truth that this is all we can do, and this is all we are called to do in this moment. To stay at the foot of the cross and bear witness to Christ’s pain.
And I hope, that on this day, and on all the Good Friday type days we will experience in our own lives and bear witness to in the lives of those we love, that we will learn to embrace our discomfort and hold back the temptation to make ourselves feel better by fixing or blaming or muting another person’s pain.
It’s hard work, but there is healing power in correctly naming the terrible things as terrible things.
There is healing power in sitting at the foot of the cross when someone you love is suffering and refusing to look away.
Easter will come, but today is Good Friday, and today we live into this place, this deeply uncomfortable place that says that we can’t pretend that we would have done differently than the chief priests, or the crowd, or Pilate. This place that reminds us that we so often out of fear, and our own wounds, and our wish to “satisfy the crowd” prepare a cross for our Saviour.
At the end of the service, when we will all leave in silence, I would encourage you to come and spend a moment at the cross before you go. Don’t be afraid to touch it either. And when you leave, don’t be afraid to sit in this Good Friday space, and don’t forget to come back on Sunday to hear the rest of the story.
In the strong name of the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen.
On Palms and Ponies: A Sermon for Sunday April 2, 2023
The following sermon was preached on Sunday April 2, 2023 at St George's Transcona. You can learn more about St George's and find links to their YouTube channel by clicking here Photo by Ansgar Scheffold on Unsplash
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable and pleasing in your sight O Lord, for you are our rock and our redeemer. Amen.
A few years ago I went to San Francisco to attend a conference and to spend some time at a church that is very important to me, St Gregory of Nyssa.
At St. Gregory’s when they prepare to read the gospel, the Bible is carried from one side of the room to the other, but not in the reader’s hands, they rest it on their right shoulder instead. It’s sort of like giving the Bible a piggy back ride… but holy.
Why?
Roman emperors used to be carried on people’s shoulders. Early Christians chose to carry the Bible on their shoulder in worship as a way of saying, “Christ is the only king we serve.”
Which is pretty amazing symbolism, if you ask me, but as we generally don’t carry our political leaders around on people’s shoulders anymore, it’s also a symbol that is completely divorced of any cultural significance and it only makes sense if someone helps you decode it.
The story of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem is a story that is filled with symbolism. It’s theatrical not just in its scale, but in the attention to detail, details that given how different our culture is from the one in these stories, may also need to be decoded. Things that would have been very clear to the people experiencing this event first hand no longer make sense to us.
When Jesus enters Jerusalem he is following a pilgrimage path that many others had already followed and would continue to follow. By the Middle Ages, people making a pilgrimage to Jerusalem were referred to as “palmers” because they often carried a palm branch home as a symbol of their pilgrimage.
Holy Week is a pilgrimage, a sacred path that we travel together as we re-tell ancient stories.
Usually we wave palm branches and take home palm crosses to tuck in a safe place throughout the year, only to return them to the church next year to be burnt and turned into ashes to be used on Ash Wednesday so that this whole process of remembering can begin again.
This year, however, you’ll notice we don’t have a lot of palms. Turns out that there was a frost at the palm farm and so they weren’t available this year. We were fortunate that Sharon was able to find some pre-made crosses so everyone can take one home.
Holy Week is a time rich with symbolism and tradition, and as such it can be deeply meaningful or dry and lifeless. I know people who struggle to find meaning in this season and others who really look forward to Holy Week because it is “their favourite time of year.”
Where do you fit on that spectrum? Are you more “what’s the point?” or “it’s the most wonderful time of the year?”
When Jesus enters Jerusalem, we are told he is riding on a “colt that has never been ridden.” (22:30)
That’s an interesting choice.
I am definitely not an expert on horses, but I have ridden a few times - at summer camps or while on vacation, and every time I have done so, I have chosen a horse that was an expert. In fact, probably due to a combination of care for their customers and the threat of lawsuits, expert horses were the only kind available to me. Horses that would calmly follow the assigned trail regardless of what the rider chose to do.
That’s just smart right? When you’re going to do something new or dangerous, go with an expert.
But Jesus chooses a “colt that has never been ridden.”
In movies and church re-enactments I’ve only ever seen Jesus riding an animal that was more reflective of the ones I road at summer camp – calmly plodding although despite the crowds of shouting people and palm branches and cloaks with a heavy human perched uncomfortably on top of their back.
But it’s just as likely that this colt – who has never had a human being climb on their back before - would have been wide eyed, filled with panic, and seeking to buck Jesus off at every turn in order to turn around and run back home.
Or at the very least, surely Jesus wouldn’t have been able to calmly wave to the crowd from atop this animal, rather he’d be working hard to control both the direction the animal was walking and working to avoid being bucked off and trampled on the ground.
A colt that has never been ridden.
It’s a weird choice.
It’s weird, but Jesus’ choice to ride an inexperienced colt tells me something about the nature of God.
God doesn’t need experts or perfect people. In fact, God often purposely chooses the untried and the unexpected. The people who are wide eyed and anxious and fully aware that they have no idea what they are doing. The people who want nothing more than to run from the limelight they have sudden been thrust into and run straight back to the safety of their homes.
That’s who God chooses, and that sounds like good news to me.
The various gospels describe the animal that Jesus road in different ways.
Mark and Luke say Jesus chose a colt that had never been ridden (11:2), John says it was a “young donkey,”(12:14) and Matthew says it was a “donkey and a colt.” (21:4)
A donkey AND a colt? Was it some kind of a tag team situation where Jesus rode one for a little bit and then the other?
Or was he riding both at the same time like a circus stunt rider? One leg on each of these animals? Have we just moved from the bizarre – choosing a colt that doesn’t know what it’s doing to the - well I don’t even know what the word for that kind of spectacle would be.
I can’t be certain, but I don’t think that Jesus rode into Jerusalem like a stunt rider with one foot on a donkey and one on a colt, but I do think that he may have taken both animals with him.
One of the reasons Matthew references both animals is because he wants us to see that Jesus’ actions are the fulfillment of a prophecy from Zechariah. A prophecy that said:
Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion!
Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem!
Lo, your king comes to you;
triumphant and victorious is he,
humble and riding on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey. (9:9)
I wonder if this scene looked less like a circus, and more like those trail rides I took at camp – with the mother donkey leading the way and her child – the colt that had never been ridden - following behind her with Jesus on its back.
The colt knowing that as long as they followed their mother, they would be just fine.
Just like if this is your first time here, a little later in the service as we move through the space for communion, as long as you follow the person in front of you, you’ll be just fine.
And actually, you’ll be fine if you don’t follow too. We’re a pretty laid back bunch… right?
We don’t have to travel this pilgrim path alone. We just have to keep an eye on our loving mother who is always just a few steps ahead of us.
And that definitely sounds like good news to me.
But why ride any kind of donkey at all? Why not walk? Or ride a horse or a chariot?
It’s not an accident, it’s all part of the spectacle.
Jesus is a king, but not like any king the people have seen before. Writing in the fourth century, St. John Chrysostom noted: "[Jesus] is not drawn in a chariot like other kings, not demanding a tribute. Nor surrounded by officers and guards. Then the people ask: 'What king has ever entered Jerusalem riding upon an ass?'"
With each choice Jesus makes he is communicating that his kingdom will not be like any kingdom they have ever known or imagined.
In Matthew, Jesus says, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. 26 It will not be so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, 27 and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave…” (20:25-27)
Jesus is a king, but not a tyrant who will “lord it over them.” Jesus will be different. In Zechariah it says:
He will cut off the chariot from Ephraim
and the war-horse from Jerusalem;
and the battle bow shall be cut off,
and he shall command peace to the nations;
his dominion shall be from sea to sea,
and from the River to the ends of the earth. (9:10)
“The chariot and war horse are instruments and symbols of war. The new king banishes both. [Jesus] proclaims peace to the nations.” (Korban)
If anyone in the crowd is reading the symbols correctly, they will recognize that Jesus is a king. A king who comes in peace but a king none the less. And having never had a king like Jesus before, there is no way that they can fully comprehend what’s happening.
But that lack of comprehension does not stop the people in the crowd from getting caught up in the excitement of the moment. It does not stop them from waving their branches and shouting “Hosanna!”
Hosanna literally means “please save us” or “save us now.” It’s a cry for help, a desperate plea.
I doubt that all of the people who are shouting for Jesus to save them understand what they are saying. I suspect that at least a percentage of them just happened upon this spectacle, heard others shouting and joined in without really thinking too much about it.
And Jesus is a king who has come to save them but his kingdom will be very different from anything they have ever seen before.
As people of faith our lives and our leaders and our institutions should look different too. A diocese is not a Walmart, a parish is not a Tim Horton’s. Even if coffee is really important to us.
In the past couple of years I have been very disappointed in my earthly leaders. Perhaps you have been too.
I’m disappointed in my leaders. I disappointed by people who seem to care more about power and safety and money than about people’s lives.
And I’m longing for something different.
I’m longing for leaders who look a little more like a powerful, but humble man riding on an untried colt. A colt that is patiently following its mother through a crowd on a pilgrim path. I’m longing for leaders whose actions are rooted and grounded in the power of self-giving love.
I’m longing for leaders who look well, who look like Jesus.
The Jesus who inspires me and gives me hope. The Jesus who reminds me that it’s OK to be disappointed in my earthly leaders but also asks me to examine my own heart and my own actions rather than simply complaining about other people.
The Jesus we will encounter as we remember and re-enact these sacred stories throughout the coming week.
And I hope you’ll join us when we do. Amen.
A Resurrection Story: A Sermon for Sunday March 26, 2023
The following sermon was preached on Sunday March 26, 2023 at St George's Transcona. You can learn more about St George's and find links to their YouTube channel by clicking here
Photo credit: The Raising of Lazarus by Sadao Watanabe.
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable and pleasing in your sight O God for you are our rock and our redeemer. Amen.
Today is the last Sunday in the season of Lent before Holy Week. Holy Week begins next Sunday with our Palm Sunday service. Lent is not over today, however, depending on who you ask, Lent either ends on Maundy Thursday or Holy Saturday so you still have a little less than two weeks of your Lenten practice to go.
Our Lenten series has a more definite end point, our final session will take place this Wednesday at 2pm and everyone is welcome to attend, even if this session will be your first one.
Today’s gospel reading is another long one and even though we are still in Lent, we are given a resurrection story.
Jesus receives a message that Lazarus is ill. The wording of the message is interesting, it says, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” (3)
It doesn’t say, “Hey Jesus, we know you love everyone equally but we wanted you to know Lazarus is ill.” The wording implies a special relationship between these two.
The passage implies a special relationship between four people actually, Jesus, Lazarus and Lazarus’ two sisters – Mary and Martha. Later John will also tell us that Jesus loved the sisters as well. (5) There are a lot of stories about Marys in the Bible and a few about Marthas and these may be the same women that are in some of those other stories, but they also may not be the same women. Mary and Martha were pretty common names.
But what we do know is this is a family that Jesus knows and cares about. The gospel writer also tells us that this is the Mary who will anoint Jesus with perfume. I’m familiar with that story, when I was preparing for this sermon I realized that this information is actually foreshadowing. The story where Mary anoints Jesus’ feet happens after this story, not before.
Which means it’s possible that the events of today’s story are at least part of why she was motivated to anoint Jesus.
Jesus loves Lazarus and Lazarus is ill but Jesus doesn’t rush to be with his friend. Rather he says that Lazarus will not die and that his illness will be used to the glory of God and he waits two more days before going to see his sick friend. (4-5)
Now this is hard because you have likely heard this story many times before and you know what is going to happen, but try to imagine what it would be like to have been standing next to Jesus when he learns his friend is ill and then watching him choose to just hang around for two extra days. Try to imagine what it would be like to be Mary and Martha.
I don’t know about you but if I witnessed Jesus learning that a beloved friend was ill and then choosing to wait two full unnecessary days to go visit, my thoughts would be the opposite of thoughts that “glorified God.”
Especially if Lazarus was my brother.
And when Jesus finally arrived, I would be very tempted to give him a piece of my mind.
Jesus has made a deliberate choice to wait before going to see Lazarus and the text makes it clear that he knows Lazarus has died. (13) But it’s not as if traveling to see his friend would have been an easy thing.
When Jesus is finally ready to go see Lazarus, the disciples point out that this trip requires them to return to a place where Jesus might be killed. They say that the people were, “just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?” (8)
This is a dangerous trip. We know that’s not why Jesus didn’t rush off to see his friend, but that doesn’t make this fact any less true. And it doesn’t make the trip any less dangerous or scary for the disciples who will go with him.
And it was probably even scarier when they were close to Mary and Martha’s home and the disciples could see that a lot of people were there to support the grieving sisters. Bethany is only about two miles from Jerusalem so a large group of people have travelled to be with the sisters and to mourn with them. (18)
And none of these people were likely to have a favourable opinion of Jesus at that moment.
When they can see Jesus and his disciples in the distance, Mary stays home and Martha goes out to meet him.
Martha and Jesus have a conversation and we learn that Lazarus has already been dead for four days. This is an important number because this means that we can be sure that he is truly dead. They haven’t just missed his vital signs, he isn’t just sleeping, he is dead.
And even more importantly, Jewish people at this time believed that the soul left the body on the fourth day. This is the deadest a person can be which makes what happens later in a story a real miracle to all who observe it. Jesus doesn’t just resuscitate Lazarus, he resurrects him.
By this time in his ministry, Jesus has a reputation of healing people, and even on occasion resurrecting someone who has very recently died, but this is different.
So we learn in this conversation between Martha and Jesus that Lazarus is really and truly dead, but we learn a few other things as well.
Mainly we learn, that despite everything, Martha still believes in Jesus. She believes that if Jesus has shown up on time then Lazarus would not have died, she believes in a future time when the dead will be resurrected, and she believes that Jesus is the, “Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.” (23-27)
Jesus stays where he is, some distance from the house and Martha returns to have a private conversation with her sister. She tells Mary, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.” (28) John tells us that Mary gets up “quickly” to go see Jesus. The people who have gathered to mourn notice and follow her. (29-31)
Mary and Jesus also have a conversation where she affirms that she believes her brother would not have died if Jesus had come sooner and this exchange is filled with emotion. We are told that when she meets Jesus she falls at his feet, weeping. (34)
Keep in mind that many of the people who have gathered to mourn Lazarus and comfort the sisters are watching this exchange and John tells us that they were also crying.
When Jesus first hears that Lazarus is ill he seems to be able to calmly state that this will all be used for God’s glory and he feels comfortable waiting a few days before doing anything, but now, surrounded by grief, we are told he was “greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved.”
Jesus also began to cry. (35)
Some of the people who saw Jesus crying commented on his deep love for Lazarus. Others questioned why Jesus had not come to save him. (36-37)
They go to the tomb and Jesus tells them to remove the stone.
Remember I told you that at this time Jewish people believed that the soul left the body on the fourth day so we can be sure that Lazarus was really and truly dead at this point. Well, in case that wasn’t enough, John gives us another piece of evidence.
You could smell that he was dead. Martha says, “there is a stench because he has been dead for four days.”
But they do what Jesus asks and remove the stone and Jesus looks up and says, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you have sent me.” (42)
And then Jesus says with a “loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!” (43)
And he does.
John tells us that as a result of this miracle many of the people who were there believed in Jesus.
And that is roughly where our lectionary reading ends, but the next part of the story is really important.
Many believe, but not everyone believes.
Some of the people who witness Lazarus’ resurrection return to Jerusalem where they report what happened to their religious leaders.
They see Jesus as a threat to their safety and way of being saying, “If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and the Romans will come and destroy both our holy place and our nation.” (48)
Jesus is a threat and this is when they decide that he has to die. (53)
I mentioned earlier that when they went to see Mary and Martha the disciples were concerned their personal safety, but they were also able to travel unharmed. That has all changed now.
The religious leaders in Jerusalem give orders that anyone who knows where Jesus is should tell them so that he can be arrested. (58)
John tells us that, “Jesus therefore no longer walked about openly among the Jews, but went from there to a town called Ephraim in the region near the wilderness; and he remained there with his disciples.” (54)
John also tells us that all of this is happening near the time of the celebration of Passover. People are speculating among themselves, “What do you think? Surely he will not come to the festival, will he?” (57)
Which is a question we will answer next week when we celebrate Palm Sunday.
Next week is Holy Week and we have a number of special services to help us walk through this final chapter in Jesus’ ministry starting next Sunday with Palm Sunday. All of that information can be found on the website and I hope you’ll join us as we walk through the rest of the story together.
In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Leave it Behind: A Sermon for Sunday March 12, 2023
The following sermon was preached on Sunday March 12, 2023 at St George's Transcona. You can learn more about St George's and find links to their YouTube channel by clicking here
Photo by Yana Hurskaya on Unsplash
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable and pleasing in your sight O God, for you are our rock and our redeemer. Amen.
Our gospel reading begins with the word, “so” which tells me that we’re starting in the middle of a story. Any time that happens, I always want to go back and see what happened beforehand.
Context matters.
In the verses just before today’s reading it says, “Now when Jesus learned that the Pharisees had heard, “Jesus is making and baptizing more disciples than John’… he left Judea and started back to Galilee. But he had to go to Samaria.” (1-4)
He had to go to Samaria.
Did he? Really?
That all depends on how you look at it.
Jesus’ Jewish contemporaries would have argued that he most certainly did not have to go through Samaria. They would have said that Samaria was to be avoided at all costs and they had lots of alternate routes to prove it.
There was more than one way for Jesus to get where he was going and he really did not need to go through Samaria.
Except maybe he did. Not for reasons of geography, but maybe he needed to go through Samaria to fulfill his mission.
Last week we looked at John 3:16 and that verse begins, “For God so loved the world that he sent his son…”
Jesus came to save the world, and the world includes Samaria. Choosing to go to a place traditionally avoided by Jewish people broke boundaries and that sent a message about who Jesus was to Jesus’ community about who Jesus was.
And it sent a message to the people of Samaria as well.
In Jesus’ kingdom, salvation is always about belonging, and in Jesus’ kingdom, everyone belongs.
Why didn’t the Jewish people and the Samaritan people get along?
Let me answer that in a bit of a round about way. Once upon a time there were Christians, a single united group, and then the Christians began to disagree and argue with each other and before you knew it, there were Roman Catholics and Anglicans and Mennonites and … too many groups to count.
Samaritans are like Anglicans. Originally part of the Jewish family, still claiming their Jewish identity, but not always recognized by Mom and Dad.
One key area of disagreement between the Jewish and Samaritan peoples was over the correct place to worship. Jewish people worshipped in Jerusalem, and Samaritans on Mount Gerizim. A detail that will become important a bit later in our story.
Samaria is the last place a good Jewish boy should go, and yet Jesus chooses to go there.
Jesus goes to Samaria and he stops at a famous landmark, Jacob’s well. (6) While I have just highlighted the differences between the two groups, the fact that Jacob’s well is in Samaria highlights their shared history. They are all descendants of Abraham and Sarah, Jacob and Leah and Rachel.
In her commentary on John, Karoline Lewis points out that this well was also a popular place for people to get engaged. Jacob and Rachel (Gen. 29), Moses and Zipporah (Ex. 2:18-22) and Isaac and Rebekah (Gen 24) all got engaged at Jacob’s well.
And now this important place in Jewish history is in a part of the country that Jewish people avoid.
Jesus is tired and he stops to rest. John tells us that it is about noon. The hottest part of the day.
While he is resting a Samaritan woman comes to draw water. Already anyone who was listening to this story would have some questions about this woman. Why is she coming, by herself, at the hottest least practical time of the day to get water?
Maybe she ran out of water and so she has no choice but to come at this illogical time.
Perhaps she comes at the least practical time because she wants to be alone. Perhaps she’s an introvert and socializing with her neighbours at the well when it’s busy exhausts her and she is willing to go to the well at the hottest time of day to avoid that.
Or perhaps, as Karoline Lewis suggests, the time of day is more symbolic. It is the lightest time of the day, and we are about to hear a story where the light of truth will shine.
Whatever the case, I imagine that meeting a strange man at the well was not something she was hoping for.
She approaches and Jesus says, “Give me a drink.”
I always find it interesting that the Bible gives us a lot of dialogue, but we have to imagine the tone.
How did Jesus ask this question – did he sound grumpy, demanding, playful, polite?
We don’t know.
We don’t know what the woman’s tone was either, but I like to imagine that even if she was afraid of this strange man at the well – her well – that she hid it and there was some sass in her response to Jesus when she asks, “How is it that you, a Jew, ask a drink of me, a woman of Samaria?” (9)
Whatever her tone, she does not cower. She does not jump to fulfill his request. She asks questions and expects answers.
Most of this story is a theological conversation between this woman and Jesus.
There are three key points in that discussion that I want to highlight today:
First, Jesus knows things about this woman he has never met that he should not know. He knows that she has been married 5 times and that she is currently living with a man she is not married too.
We read this story in church every three years and it’s possible that you have heard this detail – the fact that she had been married 5 times and was currently in a relationship but not married – used to disparage this woman, to imply that she had loose morals or was a bad wife, but that is not what is going on here because that’s not really how marriage worked at this time.
A woman couldn’t just choose to marry and divorce and marry and divorce again. Women didn’t choose to marry at all, this decision was made for them.
Here is what Karoline Lewis says about this:
“’I have no husband.’ Her brief statement is heartrending. It is not only a statement about her marital status but an assertion about her marginalized status. She is a woman, a Samaritan woman, without a name, who has been married five times. To have been married five times in ancient Palestine would be evidence of circumstances completely beyond the control of any woman at that time. Likely widowed or divorced, the fact alone of having had five husbands would have indicated some sort of curse against her family. What on earth did she do, or her ancestors, that she would be subject to such destitution?
In order to survive, it was necessary for a woman to be married, thus the numerous injunctions to care for widows. To have had five husbands could also mean that the woman had been divorced, often for trivial matters, but more likely because she was barren. If she was barren, that would mean that she would not have family to turn to in the case of being widowed, which would further exacerbate her dependent status.
The fact that she is currently living with a man not her husband does not correspond to a modern day ‘shacking up’ or “living in sin.’ Rather, her situation was probably a levirate marriage. By law (Deut 25:5-10), the brother of the dead husband was obliged to take in his dead brother’s wife, either by formal marriage or by living arrangements of some kind.” (60-61)
This is a woman who has had a very hard life for reasons beyond her control. Perhaps the reason she goes to the well in the middle of the day is because she knows her neighbours all feel sorry for her and she wants to avoid their pitying looks.
The details of this woman’s life aren’t what really matter in the story. What matters is that Jesus knows something about her that he should not be able to know, and this is how she knows he is a prophet. (19)
Jesus’s ability to know what he should not be able to know means he is someone worth listening too.
2) Having recognized Jesus as a prophet, she begins to engage Jesus in a theological discussion about the correct place to worship – remember I said this was a key disagreement between Jewish and Samaritan people – and about the coming Messiah.
She engages Jesus in a theological discussion and Jesus actively participates in the conversation.
At the end of this conversation, Jesus says that he is the Messiah the woman and her people are waiting for. (26)
At this point in the story they are interrupted by disciples, who had gone off to try and find food. The disciples’ return and the woman leaves but she doesn’t disappear from the story. (27-28) We know that she goes home and tells everyone about her conversation with Jesus and encourages them all to “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done!” (29).
And the people listen to her and go to see Jesus. (30)
John tells us that, “Many Samaritans from that city believed in him because of the woman’s testimony, ‘He told me everything I have ever done.’ So when the Samaritans came to him, they asked him to stay with them; and he stayed there for two days. And many more believed because of his word. They said to the woman, ‘It is no longer because of what you said that we believe, for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the Saviour of the world.” (39-42)
The Samaritan woman, therefore, is one of the very first evangelists.
There are a lot of other things we could talk about in this story – we haven’t even touched on the image of living water for example – but the final piece of the story I want to highlight is this: when the woman returns home to tell her community about Jesus, she leaves her water jug behind at the well.
It’s an unusual detail for Mark to include and I’ve been thinking about it a lot.
Maybe she knew she was coming back and she didn’t want the jug to slow her down as she went to tell people about Jesus. Maybe she was so excited she forgot.
Whatever the case, this woman has an unexpected encounter with Jesus that day and she let it change both her plan for her day, and her whole life.
How often am I so fixated on my own plans, on my own expectations, that I miss Jesus even when Jesus is standing right in front of me?
What do I need to let go of, and leave behind, in order to follow Jesus?
I don’t know for sure, but Lent, a season where we traditionally give something up or let something go is a great time to experiment and explore these kinds of questions.
In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Look Up: A Sermon for Sunday March 5, 2023
The following sermon was preached on Sunday March 5, 2023 at St George's Transcona. You can learn more about St George's and find links to their YouTube channel by clicking here
Photo by Eunice Lituañas on Unsplash
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable and pleasing in your sight O God, for you are our rock and our redeemer. Amen.
In one of my former parishes there was a woman who slept through every sermon I ever preached. Every single one. That same woman would shake my hand and thank me for the sermon after every service.
She may have been legitimately grateful for the best sleep she had all week, I’m not sure, but what I am sure of is that if she had ever stayed awake long enough to look up while I was preaching, she might have realized that we could see each other. She might have realized that I could see she was sleeping.
But I don’t think she ever did look up. Every Sunday she looked down and fell asleep. And every Sunday she shook my hand and thanked me for the sermon.
It can be hard to concentrate in church, even the best churches. It can be hard to pay attention to everything that is being said, especially when the lectionary gives us a really long readings, like it has today.
It can be hard to catch everything that was said.
We prayed words from Psalm 121 together today. The author of the psalm is in need of help. The help is available, the question is, will the psalmist notice it?
The psalm isn’t suspenseful, the question is actually answered in the first two lines, “I lift up my eyes to the hills—from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.”
The psalmist chooses to stop looking down, lift up their eyes, and in doing so they are able to see not only that help is available, but the source of that help as well.
If they had chosen to keep looking down, they might have missed it entirely.
What we focus on determines both what we see, and what we miss.
Jesus says a lot of weird things in today’s gospel reading, but one of the weirdest is this, “And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.”(14-15)
Excuse me Jesus, what was that you just said about Moses handling snakes?
When exactly did Moses lift up a snake?
He did it a couple of times actually. One time God turned Moses’ walking stick into a snake and then back into a stick again, but that’s not the story Jesus is referencing here.
Jesus is referencing a story found in Numbers. (Numbers 21: 1-9) Moses and the Israelites are wandering in the desert and scripture tells us they, “became impatient on the way.”
And in their impatience they begin to complain, blaming both God and Moses for their unfortunate situation saying, “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food.”
So which is it? Is there no food and no water, or there IS food and water, they just didn’t like it? It can’t be both.
But people who are in the mood to complain rarely spend time checking if their complaints are logical and they really dislike it when you point that out.
The people also know the answer to the question, “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt?” It’s because they were enslaved in Egypt and they wanted to be free.
It’s comforting to me, actually, to know that human beings have been this short sighted and self-centered since the very beginning. It is really easy to trade gratitude for self pity.
And we should all be grateful that, at least to the best of my knowledge, God has never responded to anyone in this room who was complaining in the same way he responded to the people in this story.
Because in this story, God doesn’t counter their complaining with logic, pointing out that it’s impossible to have no food AND food you don’t like at the same time OR reminding them about how much they hated being enslaved and how long and how loudly they had begged to be set free.
No, God doesn’t talk to them at all, instead God sends poisonous snakes whose bite will kill them.
And guess what happens? The people quickly stop complaining, realize that they have made a serious mistake and say to Moses, “We have sinned by speaking against the Lord and against you, pray to the Lord to take away the serpents from us.” (6)
But God doesn’t get rid of the snakes, instead God tells Moses to make a statute of a snake out of bronze. God then tells him to put the snake on a pole and put it where the people can see it. Anyone who has been bitten only needs to look at the snake on the pole and they will live.
Huh.
Well that’s certainly one way to handle the situation. Not one I would have thought of, but it seems to have worked.
It’s a bizarre story, but as I’ve been mulling it over in preparation for this sermon, it occurred to me just how hard I would find it if there were literal poisonous snakes slithering around my feet to focus on anything other than the snakes. Even if I knew looking up would save me, I’m not sure I would do it.
Because snakes are terrifying.
At best my eyes would dart up and down from the snakes on the ground to the snake on the pole and back to the snakes on the ground again.
Which honestly reflects how I treat a lot of things that I intellectually know are good for me, like drinking enough water and filing my taxes on time. I know they’re good for me, I know I’ll be grateful in the long run, I still don’t do them.
2 fun facts before we go any further. Fact 1: The modern symbol for medicine includes a snake wrapped around a pole. Fact 2: We reference this story from Numbers, and several other similar stories, every year in our Good Friday liturgy. In that liturgy, the things the people were complaining about – wandering in the desert, the quality of the food – become reasons to crucify Jesus.
In that liturgy we pray through a series of questions and answers that includes:
O my people, what have I done to you, or in what have I offended you? Answer me.
Because you led us out of the land of bondage. We have prepared a cross for our Saviour.
And then a little later: Because you led us out through the desert forty years, and fed us with manna, and brought us into a very good land, we have prepared a cross for our Saviour.
What you focus on determines what you see, and what you miss.
The Israelites became so focused on their grumbling that they missed the good things they had. Things were tough, but they were no longer slaves. Manna every day may feel repetitive, but they always had enough to eat.
Not only did they forget how good they had it, they forgot that things could get worse. An infestation of poisonous snakes kind of worse.
I wonder how many Israelites remained so focused on the snakes, that they neglected to look up long enough to see the snake on the pole and be healed?
I wonder how often we do the same? How often do we get so focused on the particular story we have chosen to tell about our lives, about our circumstances, that we don’t realize that there may be another, better way to look at things.
And I don’t mean this in some kind of naïve fairy tale kind of way, if you are surrounded by poisonous snakes the last thing you need to hear is “look on the bright side, they could be poisonous alligators” but if you are surrounded by both poisonous snakes and an actual cure, you want to make sure you notice the cure.
What we focus on determines what we see, and what we miss.
The psalmist needed to look up, past their own pain and struggles, to the hills where help was available. The Israelites need to have the courage to stop looking at the snakes at their feet and look up to the snake on the pole to be healed, and Jesus is telling us that we need to look up too.
In our gospel reading, one of the things Jesus says to Nicodemus is, “And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life. (14)
Jesus is using this historical reference, one Nicodemus would have been familiar with, to talk about his own death. He is comparing himself to a snake on a pole.
He is saying that his body will be put on a cross and lifted above the earth.
And he is saying that this is all part of God’s plan to redeem the world.
Jesus follows this comparison with what has probably become the most famous verse in the entire Bible, John 3:16:
“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”
It’s utterly bizarre to me but even people who don’t know what the verse says, know its address from having seen it on signs at concerts and sporting events.
I think it’s probably the first verse I was encouraged to memorize as a child, and I was told that I should memorize it because it summarized Jesus’ entire message.
And I believed that, and I memorized it.
But if Jesus’ entire message could be summed up in one single verse, why do we need the rest of the Bible?
Because it doesn’t sum up his entire message. In fact, all you need to do is read one additional verse in John’s gospel, the very next verse, John 3:17 and you will realize that if all you do is focus on John 3:16, you miss the important point being made by Jesus. Verse 17 says:
“Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but
in order that the world might be saved through him.”
Without this verse it is all too easy to turn John 3:16 into a verse that suggests that God’s plan was to condemn the world, but he also created an individualistic escape clause in Jesus. And that’s what way too many people have come to believe.
“Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.”
What you focus on determines what you see, and what you miss.
Lent is a season that encourages us to shift our focus and see things differently.
What are you noticing as you move through this season? Are the things you’ve chosen to give up or take on helping you to see things in a different way? Pay attention to the shifts, especially the subtle ones.
What stories do you tend to tell about your life, about your work, your family, your parish? Is there a way to see these things differently? What might happen if you looked up and saw the situation from a different angle?
God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world may be saved through him.”
What we focus on determines what we see, and what we miss. May we all tune our gaze to what God is up to in our lives and in the lives of those around us this week. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Die, Death, Dead: A Sermon for Ash Wednesday 2023
The following sermon was preached on Ash Wednesday, February 22 2023, at St George's Transcona. You can learn more about St George's and find links to their YouTube channel by clicking here
Photo by Thays Orrico on Unsplash
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable and pleasing in your sight O God, for you are our rock and our redeemer. Amen.
The liturgical year is designed to help us reflect in ritual ways on a wide variety of human experiences. There are many liturgies that focus on the life of Christ, but there are also liturgies to celebrate rites of passage in the life of an individual like baptism, marriage, and funerals. We have Candlemas – a liturgy designed to celebrate light. We have All Saints and All Souls – liturgies designed to help us remember capital “S” saints and also all the saints, all the people who have died, and in particular the ones we remember with love. We even have a liturgy to celebrate our pets – the Feast of Saint Francis.
Today is Ash Wednesday and today we are called to remember one specific thing: We are all going to die. Every single one of us. No one can escape it.
And the church in its wisdom says, “So you better not ignore it either.”
Generally speaking people don’t really like to talk about death. We go out of our way to ignore the subject or soften it by using euphemisms.
My mother passed…. 5 years ago we lost our father…. My brother is no longer with us…
All of these are ways of talking about death without talking about death.
When I was doing some of my pastoral training we were taught to speak very clearly and specifically about death, especially if you were going to be the first person to inform someone that a loved one had died.
Hearing that someone has died is a really hard thing to process and those euphemisms can make it even more confusing.
“I’m sorry, but we’ve lost your Father.”
“Well then hurry up and go find him!”
You can see the sort of confusion and unnecessary pain this kind of language can cause.
Ash Wednesday does not let us sink into euphemisms. A little later in the service, if you choose to participate, you will come forward, and Beverley and I will look you in the eyes and tell you you are going to die and then we will mark your forehead with ashes as a further and physical reminder of that fact.
Over the years I have said these words to very senior people and to tiny, tiny babies. I have said these words to friends and family members.
I always leave this service feeling very awe struck and humbled by the experience.
Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return.
Remember you are going to die.
It is an important truth that the church calls us to reflect on this day. It can be a really good and healthy thing to develop a comfort in talking about death, to think about your own death and to make some preparations even. To create a will, to think about the hymns or readings you’d like at your funeral service.
In my experience it is always a good thing to find ways to talk about hard things like death, to normalize those kinds of conversations.
Because in my experience the things we avoid talking about, the things we hide or repress…. those are the things that get weird. Those are the things that very quickly become unhealthy.
Surely it is possible to swing to the other extreme and instead of avoiding conversations about death to fixate on it to an unhealthy degree, but most people are no where near that end of the spectrum.
And the church encourages us to normalize conversations about death, but most of our liturgies focus on life and living life to the full.
There is a good and healthy balance built into the liturgical year. Not every Wednesday is Ash Wednesday.
Today’s liturgy also has a focus on sin and repentance as we move into the season of Lent. A focus on all the little deaths we experience every day. The ways we do not live fully into who we were created by God to be.
Today we are given a space to remember that we will die, to reflect on our sin and to repent because new life is also always available to us.
We will all die, but death is not the end. This season in the church year begins with Ash Wednesday, but it ends with Easter Sunday.
It ends with resurrection.
And this rhythm, this balance, this call to acknowledge both death and life, sin and repentance, this call to acknowledge the fullness of what it means to be human in the presence of a God and loving God…. this sounds like good news to me.
In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Mountain Top Moments: A Sermon for Sunday February 19, 2023
The following sermon was preached on February 19, 2023 at St George's Transcona. You can learn more about St George's and find links to their YouTube channel by clicking here
Photo by Denys Nevozhai on Unsplash
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable and pleasing in your sight O God, for you are our rock and our redeemer. Amen.
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about climbing mountains. Partly because two of today’s readings take place on mountains and partly because I keep finding myself in situations where lessons I learned climbing mountains still apply.
In 2015 I walk the Camino de Santiago in Spain. The Camino is an ancient pilgrimage route that people have been walking since about the 9th century. The Camino begins when you step out of your front door with intention and ends at the supposed burial place of the James who features in today’s gospel reading.
I walked about 800 kilometers across Spain that spring, and a lot of the path was on mountains.
Having climbed a few mountains in my life now, I have learned some things about them. First, unlike what most kindergarten drawings will tell you, mountains aren’t giant triangles where you go straight up one side and then straight down the other.
Mountains are more complicated than that. It’s not uncommon that in order to climb up a mountain you have to go up a little bit and then down a little bit and then up a little bit again, switching back and forth to gradually reach the top.
And while you are doing that, you often have no idea how far you’ve gone. It’s rare to be able to actually see the top of the mountain as you are climbing because trees or fog or simply the scale of the endeavor obscures your view.
I once climbed a mountain in Banff in foggy conditions, and the only reason I knew I had made it to the top was because Parks Canada had posted a sign that said so.
And there was a gift shop.
Today’s gospel reading begins, “Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain…” (17)
So immediately, I want to know what happened six days earlier.
Six days earlier, Jesus explained to his disciples that he was going to go to Jerusalem where he would suffer, die, and then three days later come back to life and if they really want to follow him, the disciples are going to have to pick up a cross and be prepared to die as well.
This revelation was so startling and unsettling that the gospel tells us that Peter rebuked Jesus for suggesting such a thing was possible and Jesus responded with equal force saying to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan!” (16: 21-23)
That’s what happened six days before today’s story. That’s a lot of information for the disciples to take in and a lot of complicated emotions to sort through and process. Relationships don’t often bounce back from a sharp rebuke like, “Get behind me Satan.”
At bare minimum things would feel really awkward for quite some time.
So I imagine that things are feeling pretty tense, and pretty heavy as the four men begin to climb that mountain. They are carrying a lot more than just whatever the Bible times equivalent of a backpack would have been.
What you carry, determines how you walk. This is true in all aspects of life. Your gate changes if you are carrying a football, or a baby, or a bowl full of hot soup or some disappointing news. In fact, not just what you are carrying, but how you carry it can make a big difference.
If you’re climbing a mountain, it’s easier to carry a heavy weight on your back, then in your hands. It’s also easier if that weight is evenly distributed, if you don’t have something sharp poking you in the small of your back.
It’s even easier is the weight is consistent.
When I was walking the Camino I once put an orange in my bag in the morning and spent most of the afternoon marveling at how much easier it was to walk after I had eaten that orange for lunch.
An orange.
Wednesday marks the beginning of Lent, and Lent is a really great season to reflect on all the things you carry with you every day.
Sometimes people use the season of Lent to let something go. To stop carrying something they normally hold on to. It could be chocolate or coffee, but it could also be a particular habit, or an attitude. One year I gave up going to Starbucks – not coffee entirely, no one wants to see me give up coffee - just Starbucks. And I was surprised to discover how I had gradually and unthinkingly formed patterns of moving through the day that included stopping at Starbucks, whether I really wanted a latte or not. I had to give it up, to notice that.
And then when Lent was over I did start going back to Starbucks, but no where near as often.
Sometimes people use the season of Lent to pick something up that they don’t normally carry. It might be collecting money for a charity or adopting a new prayer practice. A few years ago I decided to pick up reading the Rule of Benedict over Lent, and since I’ve been doing that for 5 or 6 years not I guess it’s now a tradition.
What are you carrying? Is there something you need to put down, or pick up, or just rearrange a bit? Lent can be a great opportunity to do just that.
The disciples are carrying a lot of heavy feelings as they climb that mountain. And when they finally arrive at the top, Matthew tells us that Jesus was, “transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. (2-3)
Now as a quick Biblical refresher, both Moses and Elijah died a long time before this story took place. Or, actually Moses died a long time before this story took place, Elijah didn’t actually die at all, he road straight into heaven in a horse driven chariot made of fire, but that’s a story for another time.
Moses and Elijah are not the disciples’ contemporaries. They are heroes from the past, men they have read stories about. More symbols that people. Their presence alone would have been disorienting.
So the disciples climbed the mountain feeling out of sorts and now they are witnessing a conversation between two men from the history books and Jesus looking nothing like the Jesus they are used to.
Jesus’ face is shining like the sun and his clothes are dazzling white.
Which seems scary and disorienting to me and I think I’d have been tempted to say, “OK, I’m out,” and start back down the mountain on my own or to cower behind a bush in fear, but that’s not how the disciples react.
Peter says, “Lord, it is good for us to be here.” (4). Peter looks around at what is happening and declares that it is good.
So good, in fact, that he offers to make three dwellings one each for Jesus, Moses and Elijah. (4)
Or at least he starts to make this offer, because we are told that he didn’t even get to finish his thought, “While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with him I am well pleased; listen to him.” (5)
And now, the disciples are afraid. “Overcome by fear” they fall on the ground. (6)
The disciples are face down on the ground quaking in fear, having just heard God say that they should listen to Jesus.
And what is the first thing they hear Jesus say? “Get up and do not be afraid.” (7)
But Jesus doesn’t just stand at a distance shouting at them to smarten up and stop being so afraid, no Jesus approaches them, touches them and says, “Get up and do not be afraid.” (7)
Before they hear his words, they feel his reassuring touch. And they do as they are told.
Sometimes the gospel writers casually just slip in these amazing little details that are so easy to miss. Jesus touched them. He saw they were afraid, he came right up beside them, touched them and said, “Get up and do not be afraid.”
It’s beautiful.
Now I want to invite you to engage in a little speculative imagining with me.
I don’t think that the disciples were focusing on the beautiful scenery that surrounded them as they climbed that mountain. Rather I suspect they were focused on trying to wrap their heads around everything Jesus had told them or perhaps on how to make an uncomfortable situation a little more comfortable.
When they arrived at the mountain top, I don’t think it was the panoramic view that held their attention. Rather I suspect that they were so focused on the amazing sight of Jesus transformed and the two men who joined him that that was all they could see.
And then when God came and spoke declaring Jesus was beloved, I think they focused on the dirt at their feet as they fell to the ground. If their eyes were open at all, that dirt was all they could see.
But now after having seen all the things they have seen and experiencing Jesus’ gentle touch and reassurance that they do not have to be afraid, I wonder if they were finally able to stand up, look out, and take in the view.
Which is something I want us all to do together today as well. Stop long enough to take in the view.
I imagine the disciples stopping to take in the view. To take a deep breath and look around and then, to begin the journey down the mountain.
Jesus and the disciples will not stay on the mountain top, they will walk down the mountain and continue walking until they reach Jerusalem. The things Jesus said would happen will indeed happen. He will die.
And we’re being invited to come down the mountain and walk alongside them.
Lent is a season where we remember and focus on difficult things. Beginning on Ash Wednesday with a reminder that we are all dust and to dust we will all return, we’ll enter a desert season moving us gradually closer to Christ’s death on a cross.
But before we leave the mountain and enter the wilderness, let’s take a look at all we can see from the top of this mountain. Because from here we can see the entire story, from here we can see Jesus resurrected on Easter Sunday. From here we can see that Christ’s glorious transformation on this particular mountain top is not the end, but only a part of the entire story.
So stop, take it all in, and then, when you’re ready, take a deep breath and begin the climb back down the mountain into Lent.
And know that when you do, Jesus is walking right beside you.
In the name of our glorious God who Creates, Redeems, and Sustains. Amen.