Delivered at my home parish in the Chicago Diocese on the Sunday before Lent, 2008. It was great to be home and even more exciting to be given the opportunity to preach at both Sunday services.
“Who says you can’t go home!” Although those words from the Bon Jovi song played at my going away party still seem to be fresh in my mind, I am also aware that many months have passed since that day and I am very glad to be back home with you today. The thought that I am now more than half way through my seminary journey is surprising…and the journey, itself, has been full of surprises. The first year was a time of adjustments: new schools, new careers, new people, and obviously a new place to live. After a challenging first year of academic studies, I was looking forward to my summer of Clinical Pastoral Education in a continuing care retirement community. I was excited to finally get my head out of the books and to spend some time with people. As I started the summer program, I carefully considered key learning areas and developed my personal goals. As the weeks progressed, I realized that although my learning plan was well structured, I had not considered at least one critical element: My schedule did not provide the space to be surprised; the space to be amazed; the space to be transformed. As we hear Matthew’s Gospel account this morning, a small part of me can relate to Peter’s journey to the top of that high mountain. Peter and his friends unexpectedly encounter the glory of Christ, the Transfiguration, and struggle to make meaning of the significance of their experience. Peter, characteristically, does not hesitate to respond to this dramatic event, but what might we learn from Peter’s response? Our Gospel lesson today teaches Peter, and us, a valuable lesson (especially in these days leading up to Lent): stop, listen and be transformed by the glory of Christ. If only I had listened to this lesson before starting my summer program of CPE.
My experience during CPE was consistent with current data studies: women live longer than men. Throughout my summer program, I was assigned to regularly visit more than 20 residents, all of whom were women except for about 3 men. I had several wonderful conversations with the women, both individually and in various group settings, but the men were more difficult to get to know. There was one man in particular that I thought I would approach, but I was cautioned by my supervisor that he was very intelligent and I would first have to “earn my stripes” if I was to be accepted and trusted by him. After a few short “hallway” visits, I asked if I might visit him sometime and he agreed. When the day finally arrived, I left my basement office and climbed up to the “high mountain” of his third floor apartment. After exchanging some simple pleasantries and answering his questions about the rigors of student chaplaincy, he asked me, “Patrick, when did slavery end?” Although I was caught a bit off-guard, I thought: this is the question!...this is my “test.” Wasting no time, I launched in with my best explanation. “Well, I suppose the answer depends on one’s perspective,” I said, trying to cover all my bases. “President Lincoln ended slavery with the Emancipation Proclamation; however, I doubt many Southerners of that time period would agree. So, I guess I would say slavery ended some time during the Civil War.” Rather proud of my answer, I waited for his response. “Approximately, what year do you think slavery ended?” he continued. Without pausing for even a moment, I confidently replied, “Sometime during the mid 1860’s I suppose.” He thought for a moment and replied, “I thought that’s what you might say, and that’s not true.” NOT TRUE! I was stopped short. The Civil War is one of my favorite history subjects. How could my answer not be true? I had been taught that answer many years ago by some pretty reliable teachers…and now the answer had changed? What happens to us when the answers we have been taught no longer apply to the circumstances we face? How do we respond? In our Gospel lesson today, Peter finds himself in just such a dilemma – his response is found lacking.
The reading begins with an introductory note that the trip to the mountain top starts 6 days after Peter acknowledges Jesus as the Christ. Peter’s acknowledgment of Jesus as the Christ is told in Matthew Chapter 16 and Peter’s acknowledgment is followed by Jesus’ first prediction of his passion in Jerusalem. Jesus’ prediction of his suffering and death is met with strong protest by Peter because the prevailing Jewish understanding of the Messiah did not include suffering and death, only glory and might like King David. Jesus rebukes Peter and tells him that his mind is not set on divine things, but on earthly things. Six days before the Transfiguration, everything Peter has been taught doesn’t seem to make sense anymore.
With these thoughts still swirling in his head, Peter joins James and John on a trip led by Jesus up the side of a high mountain. The disciples may not have known why Jesus has brought them to the top of this mountain, but Matthew specifically tells us that this is a “high” mountain. And in the Bible, important events take place at high altitudes: representing that place between heaven and earth. Suddenly, Jesus is transfigured and is seen by the disciples, speaking with Moses and Elijah. As amazing as these events might seem to us, Peter is not yet overcome with fear and he is able to offer to build 3 dwelling places. As strange as Peter’s offer might appear, we again must remember that Peter’s response is grounded in prevailing Jewish thought. During the Exodus, people, priests, and religious articles were housed in tents or dwellings; and before the Temple was built, the Ark of the Covenant was housed in a tent. Peter seeks to provide a reverent memorial to the Transfiguration based on his Jewish formation, based on his previous understanding; but the bright cloud interrupts Peter and the voice stops him short.
The bright cloud envelopes the group and speaks the same words spoken at Jesus’ Baptism, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” The voice stops Peter and commands him to “listen.” Listen to my Son. Listen to the Logos, to the word of God. Only after hearing the voice are the disciples afraid. They are afraid, in the sense of awed reverence, because they have heard the word of God. The disciples are then comforted by Jesus with a touch and with his words. When they rise again, they see no one except for Jesus, but they are no longer the same as they once were. They are no longer the same because they have experienced the glory of Christ, they have been given the word of God and they have been blessed by Jesus. They have been transformed to a new understanding because they have allowed themselves to listen and learn the way of Christ.
If I had allowed myself to listen, I would have known that the question was, “when did slavery end?;” not “when did slavery end in the United States?” The answer is “slavery has never ended”…unfortunately; the practice of slavery is alive and taking its toll on millions of lives. According to some statistics, there are as many as 26 million people held in slavery around the world today.[i]
One of my original learning goals was to experience regular visitations with people who are in assisted living and develop a deeper understanding of how to reconcile them with the outside community and provide pastoral care. After allowing myself to stop and listen to these folks, I realized that many of them were already reaching out to the community and making a difference. The reason this man asked me about slavery is because he is working closely with his son and his son’s church in New York City to raise awareness of global slavery and find ways to eliminate slavery forever. After my conversation with him, I realized my learning goals were deeply rooted in my personal learning biases and, as he was surfing the internet and seeking to eradicate global slavery, I was offering to build 3 dwellings and seeking to achieve my learning objectives. As I descended the mountain of his 3rd floor apartment and returned to my basement office, I realized that I had received a gift from my 90 year old friend – I needed to stop, listen and be transformed by the glory of Christ. I needed to adjust my schedule to allow time to stop and listen; to allow time to be surprised; to allow time to be transformed.
As we enter Lent next week, we are all invited on a 40 day journey that leads to the top of a high place…a hill called Calvary, where Jesus died for us. We are invited to walk with Christ and be transformed by His glory; to be changed forever by his death and resurrection. We are encouraged to stop, listen and be transformed by the glory of Christ. And if, in the midst of our transformation journey, we find ourselves on the ground and overcome with fear, remember: Christ will be with us; Christ will bless us; and Christ will be here to say, “Get up and do not be afraid.” The Transfiguration of Christ reveals His glory and invites us to be transformed to a new life in His kingdom: “Who says you can’t go home!”
Amen
[i] “How many slaves are there?”, Anti-Slavery Society website, accessed 11/30/2007. http://www.anti-slaverysociety.org/slavery.htm
Thursday, February 7, 2008
“A new beginning through Christ’s reconciling love” - Proper 29C
A sermon delivered at my field education site the Sunday prior to Advent, 2007. In the sermon, I also attempt to address the issues of reconciliation in Northern Ireland, a topic I researched during my January 2008 term as an independent study topic.
This morning, we are blessed to witness Rachel and Harrison celebrate a “new beginning” in the saving waters of baptism. We, who witness Rachel and Harrison’s new Christian life, also participate in a “new beginning” as we renew our baptismal vows. Next week, we will again encounter a “new beginning”: another new Church year and another new season of Advent; a new opportunity to live through the 4 weeks of preparation for the coming of Christ, so we are perhaps a bit startled with images of “endings” this morning. The Gospel lesson presents a striking image of the end of Jesus’ life. And today, we mark the end of our Church year. As we journey through these “endings,” we find that every “ending” creates a new “beginning,” and every beginning presents an opportunity to create something new through Christ’s reconciling love.
Many years ago, when I was in grade school (trust me, many years ago), I became aware of some very disturbing “endings” in Northern Ireland. Throughout the 1960’s and 1970’s, the hate and distrust between the Protestant Unionist party and the Roman Catholic Nationalist party only grew stronger. As a young boy, growing up in the safe environment of Connecticut, I was confused by this distant conflict. My ethnic roots are Irish; I was a Roman Catholic, as was everyone else in my family, except my Protestant Grandfather…and I certainly didn’t hate him. I didn’t understand why people who grew up together and shared the love of Christ could hate each other; fight each other; even kill each other.
The conflict of Northern Ireland is, in fact, a deeply complicated situation, created by seeds that were sown hundreds of years ago and fueled by fear, discrimination, and revenge. Battle lines in this conflict have been drawn through nearly every facet of life; consistently influenced by religious convictions. In the book, “The Politics of Past Evil,” Ronald Wells highlights this point as he writes: “In Northern Ireland religion energized ideologies about society, the nation, and ‘the other,’ but religion also became captive to those ideologies…Religion provided a way to mark boundaries of the mind and spirit as much as political boundaries did.”[1] Boundaries of the mind and spirit exist when our personal prejudices and ideologies shape our understanding of how God works in our lives. If we cannot discover the reconciling love necessary to remove these boundaries, we unknowingly create barriers that end our relationships with others and prevent “new beginnings.” The boundaries of the mind and spirit are exactly what we hear in this morning’s Gospel lesson.
Luke paints a vivid picture of Jesus’ crucifixion and the responses of those in attendance. In the midst of the turbulent events of the day, the people stand in silence. But the religious leaders and the soldiers deride Jesus and challenge him to save himself. If Jesus is the Messiah of God, (they reason) then saving himself from the agonizing end of death on the cross would be an easy feat. “He saved others; let him save himself.” “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” For Luke, the act of “saving” is important business. Luke uses the Greek word (sw,zw) “sozo”, meaning “to save” 17 times in his Gospel, emphasizing that Jesus Christ is the savior and reconciler of humanity, bringing us back into relationship with God. The problem with the religious leaders and the soldiers is not the use of the word “save;” the problem is the boundaries of their mind and spirit, which prevent them from comprehending the meaning of Jesus’ crucifixion, his resurrection, and his message to us that we must follow him.
If we look closely at the actions of those present at the crucifixion of Jesus, everything is upside-down. The people are those who have followed and supported Jesus…and they have nothing to say. The religious leaders and soldiers speak with sarcastic confidence in their mockery of Jesus, but their words ring true. Jesus is the Messiah of God. Jesus is the King of the Jews. The first criminal derides Jesus, “save yourself and us;” Jesus does save us all. So, what do we make of this upside-down world that Luke presents to us? Where is the Good News in this apparent tragic end of Christ?
First, we can better understand the events surrounding Jesus’ crucifixion by reminding ourselves what He taught his disciples earlier in Luke’s Gospel account. As Jesus first tells his disciples of the type of death he will suffer, he also teaches them: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it.” We again hear Luke’s use of the word “save,” but this time we hear it from Jesus and are taught the proper “saving” power of Christ. The leaders and soldiers mockingly use the word “save” from their positions of “earthly” power: they have “saved” their way of life, but have eternally damaged their future. Jesus, through his death on the cross, has seemingly met his final end. However, in losing his life, he has saved us and created an entirely new beginning. Luke explicitly tells us of this new beginning: at the moment of Christ’s death, the curtain of the Temple was torn in two. The curtain veiled the Holy of Holies so that only the Priests could see what was hidden behind it, but Christ has torn it open and created a new beginning for all of us.
We also hear the humble request of the second criminal to Jesus: “remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Remember me, that’s all he asks; but “to be remembered” in the Bible is deeply personal. For example, in Genesis 9, God tells Noah He will remember his covenant when He sees a rainbow and never again flood the earth; and in Luke 1, Mary sings in the Magnificat that God has helped His servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy. God remembers because God desires a faithful relationship with us. And to be in relationship with someone means to seek communion. Communion involves forgiveness, compassion, and the desire for unity. As we experience the uncertainty of passing through our “endings” and seek to grow “new beginnings” in the fertile soil of charity, Christ beckons us to follow Him. Jesus responds to the second criminal and blesses him abundantly: “today you will be with me in Paradise.” The death and resurrection of Christ mark a new beginning, and the blessing of the criminal is Christ’s expression of reconciling love.
For the people of Northern Ireland, the “endings” they face are admittedly extremely difficult ones. Their terrible “endings” have been inflicted thousands of times, through multiple generations; each generation seeking to achieve at least some retribution for the suffering of their ancestors. But Christ shows us a different way. Christ shows us power through apparent weakness; relationship through forgiveness, reconciliation through love. Christ’s way is a difficult way for us. It is difficult because we need to overcome our selfish desires; we need to have the courage to put an “end” to what we want and seek a “new beginning.” In the midst of the great suffering in Northern Ireland, there have been courageous people who have consistently expressed Christ’s reconciling love and forgiveness through their actions, breaking the chain of violence and revenge. There is a long road of forgiveness and reconciliation ahead to ensure a lasting peace in Northern Ireland, but recent events give great hope for the future.
Jesus also invites us to travel the promising road of Christian discipleship. The journey along this road is marked with many “new beginnings;” some of these “beginnings” may be small, some might be large, but all of them are significant to our relationship with Christ and with each other. This morning, Rachel and Harrison will experience a new beginning in Christ through the waters of Baptism. The coming season of Advent is a new opportunity for us to reflect on our relationship with Christ and with others. A time to reflect on the things that stand in our way – desires that need to die so that we “might live no longer for ourselves, but for him who died and was raised for us. [And] if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; behold, everything has become new!” (2 Cor 5:15, 17) AMEN
[1] Ronald A. Wells, Chapter 7 “Northern Ireland: A Study of Friendship, Forgiveness, and Reconciliation,” of The Politics of Past Evil: Religion, Reconciliation, and the Dilemmas of Transitional Justice, edited by Daniel Philpott, (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2006), 196.
This morning, we are blessed to witness Rachel and Harrison celebrate a “new beginning” in the saving waters of baptism. We, who witness Rachel and Harrison’s new Christian life, also participate in a “new beginning” as we renew our baptismal vows. Next week, we will again encounter a “new beginning”: another new Church year and another new season of Advent; a new opportunity to live through the 4 weeks of preparation for the coming of Christ, so we are perhaps a bit startled with images of “endings” this morning. The Gospel lesson presents a striking image of the end of Jesus’ life. And today, we mark the end of our Church year. As we journey through these “endings,” we find that every “ending” creates a new “beginning,” and every beginning presents an opportunity to create something new through Christ’s reconciling love.
Many years ago, when I was in grade school (trust me, many years ago), I became aware of some very disturbing “endings” in Northern Ireland. Throughout the 1960’s and 1970’s, the hate and distrust between the Protestant Unionist party and the Roman Catholic Nationalist party only grew stronger. As a young boy, growing up in the safe environment of Connecticut, I was confused by this distant conflict. My ethnic roots are Irish; I was a Roman Catholic, as was everyone else in my family, except my Protestant Grandfather…and I certainly didn’t hate him. I didn’t understand why people who grew up together and shared the love of Christ could hate each other; fight each other; even kill each other.
The conflict of Northern Ireland is, in fact, a deeply complicated situation, created by seeds that were sown hundreds of years ago and fueled by fear, discrimination, and revenge. Battle lines in this conflict have been drawn through nearly every facet of life; consistently influenced by religious convictions. In the book, “The Politics of Past Evil,” Ronald Wells highlights this point as he writes: “In Northern Ireland religion energized ideologies about society, the nation, and ‘the other,’ but religion also became captive to those ideologies…Religion provided a way to mark boundaries of the mind and spirit as much as political boundaries did.”[1] Boundaries of the mind and spirit exist when our personal prejudices and ideologies shape our understanding of how God works in our lives. If we cannot discover the reconciling love necessary to remove these boundaries, we unknowingly create barriers that end our relationships with others and prevent “new beginnings.” The boundaries of the mind and spirit are exactly what we hear in this morning’s Gospel lesson.
Luke paints a vivid picture of Jesus’ crucifixion and the responses of those in attendance. In the midst of the turbulent events of the day, the people stand in silence. But the religious leaders and the soldiers deride Jesus and challenge him to save himself. If Jesus is the Messiah of God, (they reason) then saving himself from the agonizing end of death on the cross would be an easy feat. “He saved others; let him save himself.” “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” For Luke, the act of “saving” is important business. Luke uses the Greek word (sw,zw) “sozo”, meaning “to save” 17 times in his Gospel, emphasizing that Jesus Christ is the savior and reconciler of humanity, bringing us back into relationship with God. The problem with the religious leaders and the soldiers is not the use of the word “save;” the problem is the boundaries of their mind and spirit, which prevent them from comprehending the meaning of Jesus’ crucifixion, his resurrection, and his message to us that we must follow him.
If we look closely at the actions of those present at the crucifixion of Jesus, everything is upside-down. The people are those who have followed and supported Jesus…and they have nothing to say. The religious leaders and soldiers speak with sarcastic confidence in their mockery of Jesus, but their words ring true. Jesus is the Messiah of God. Jesus is the King of the Jews. The first criminal derides Jesus, “save yourself and us;” Jesus does save us all. So, what do we make of this upside-down world that Luke presents to us? Where is the Good News in this apparent tragic end of Christ?
First, we can better understand the events surrounding Jesus’ crucifixion by reminding ourselves what He taught his disciples earlier in Luke’s Gospel account. As Jesus first tells his disciples of the type of death he will suffer, he also teaches them: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it.” We again hear Luke’s use of the word “save,” but this time we hear it from Jesus and are taught the proper “saving” power of Christ. The leaders and soldiers mockingly use the word “save” from their positions of “earthly” power: they have “saved” their way of life, but have eternally damaged their future. Jesus, through his death on the cross, has seemingly met his final end. However, in losing his life, he has saved us and created an entirely new beginning. Luke explicitly tells us of this new beginning: at the moment of Christ’s death, the curtain of the Temple was torn in two. The curtain veiled the Holy of Holies so that only the Priests could see what was hidden behind it, but Christ has torn it open and created a new beginning for all of us.
We also hear the humble request of the second criminal to Jesus: “remember me when you come into your kingdom.” Remember me, that’s all he asks; but “to be remembered” in the Bible is deeply personal. For example, in Genesis 9, God tells Noah He will remember his covenant when He sees a rainbow and never again flood the earth; and in Luke 1, Mary sings in the Magnificat that God has helped His servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy. God remembers because God desires a faithful relationship with us. And to be in relationship with someone means to seek communion. Communion involves forgiveness, compassion, and the desire for unity. As we experience the uncertainty of passing through our “endings” and seek to grow “new beginnings” in the fertile soil of charity, Christ beckons us to follow Him. Jesus responds to the second criminal and blesses him abundantly: “today you will be with me in Paradise.” The death and resurrection of Christ mark a new beginning, and the blessing of the criminal is Christ’s expression of reconciling love.
For the people of Northern Ireland, the “endings” they face are admittedly extremely difficult ones. Their terrible “endings” have been inflicted thousands of times, through multiple generations; each generation seeking to achieve at least some retribution for the suffering of their ancestors. But Christ shows us a different way. Christ shows us power through apparent weakness; relationship through forgiveness, reconciliation through love. Christ’s way is a difficult way for us. It is difficult because we need to overcome our selfish desires; we need to have the courage to put an “end” to what we want and seek a “new beginning.” In the midst of the great suffering in Northern Ireland, there have been courageous people who have consistently expressed Christ’s reconciling love and forgiveness through their actions, breaking the chain of violence and revenge. There is a long road of forgiveness and reconciliation ahead to ensure a lasting peace in Northern Ireland, but recent events give great hope for the future.
Jesus also invites us to travel the promising road of Christian discipleship. The journey along this road is marked with many “new beginnings;” some of these “beginnings” may be small, some might be large, but all of them are significant to our relationship with Christ and with each other. This morning, Rachel and Harrison will experience a new beginning in Christ through the waters of Baptism. The coming season of Advent is a new opportunity for us to reflect on our relationship with Christ and with others. A time to reflect on the things that stand in our way – desires that need to die so that we “might live no longer for ourselves, but for him who died and was raised for us. [And] if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; behold, everything has become new!” (2 Cor 5:15, 17) AMEN
[1] Ronald A. Wells, Chapter 7 “Northern Ireland: A Study of Friendship, Forgiveness, and Reconciliation,” of The Politics of Past Evil: Religion, Reconciliation, and the Dilemmas of Transitional Justice, edited by Daniel Philpott, (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 2006), 196.
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