Feb 21 2010                            Lent I

Hearing about the temptation in the wilderness when it’s February outside gives us an immediate emotional connection to the story! This time of year with its slush, and cold dank wind, and grey mud could get to you. We can relate to how trying it was for Jesus to be pestered for forty days. All we have to do is look out in the morning to see yet another grey dreary day, and we’ll know why 40 is the number of days the Bible uses to signify a really long time. It must have seemed like forever to Jesus, the way February seems to go on forever. Who says February is the shortest month? It’s at least 40 days long! It’s not that we give up entirely, it’s just that we become vulnerable and cranky: the ideal time, the devil’s point of view, to try something big.

The something big the devil tried on Jesus was those three temptations we just heard about. Boil them down to their essence and all three were attempts to move Jesus away from his true connection with God. That is always the ultimate aim of temptation, to move us away from God. Satan was being bold when he said to Jesus, “Worship me.” But it was what he had been patiently working up to the whole time When he had done everything possible to get Jesus off his guard by six weeks of pestering, the great enemy of our human nature came in for the finish.

Only to be completely vanquished himself! Jesus was immoveable. He had an answer for everything! Instead of striking out on the three pitches, Jesus hit all three over the fence for home runs. “One does not live by bread alone.” Homer! “Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.” Another home run! “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.” Number three! What perfect, concise answers. The devil, Luke tells us, left the field, at least for a time. Jesus was victorious, and in this fact we get the clue we need to understand what is really going on in the temptation narrative. It is a story about the strength of God. It was God and the angels who turned the tables on our enemy and sent him packing. Jesus is strong, and through his strength, we can do better ourselves.

Which leads me to a small bone to pick with the Collect of the Day. Usually I admire these wonderful bits of liturgy wholeheartedly, but in this case I think it could be better. As you see on your scripture inserts it says Jesus “was led by the Spirit to be tempted of/by Satan.” Wouldn’t it be more on point if it read, Jesus “was led by the Spirit to meet and overcome Satan?” It really looks to me as if a spiritual victory on the part of Jesus were the whole point of his wilderness time in the first place.

Here’s why: another Bible story hovers in the background today, and it is a story of spiritual defeat. I’m thinking of Genesis and the original temptation of humanity in the persons of Adam and Eve. In that story, like Jesus in the wilderness, the first humans were out in nature, reliant on God for their sustenance. Like Jesus, they had intimate direct converse with God. Like Jesus, they were minding their own business when a devious intruder popped up with a twisted proposal. In the devil’s sinister saying, “If you are the Son of God, then do thus and so,” we hear the clearest possible echo of the serpent’s words to Eve, “When you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” Satan’s message is consistent across time: go ahead, act like God. What are you afraid of?

The difference is, the first time around we fell for it. We kept on falling for it. Sons and daughters of Eve and Adam have gone ahead and forgotten ourselves over and over. As a species we were easy pickings for that devious voice, right up until the time of Jesus. So Jesus came as a surprise. He was as human as any descendant of Adam and Eve. But he was not easy pickings. No, Jesus was strong. That is what we need to focus on in today’s Gospel. In his lonely spiritual battle out in the wilderness, Jesus began to re-write the human story, a story that badly needed a new beginning. It needed a new beginning in which spiritual strength would be a possibility for the human race. .

Spiritual strength, in the first instance, means not allowing ourselves to be moved away from God. That’s the main thing: whatever else befalls, to hang on to God. And “whatever else” will befall. All sorts of things spring up that might deflect us from our primary spiritual commitment, ranging from minor irritations like February weather, to huge traumas like the catastrophe that has befallen the people of Haiti. Any one of these events anywhere on the spectrum gives a place of entry to that devious voice which says, “Why trust God anymore? Go ahead, be like God yourself.” But spiritual strength continues to see clearly. We are not God. Only God is God, and Him only should we serve.

Spiritual strength, in the second place, means (after having found a way to remain loyal to God) to find ways to remain loyal to our neighbor as well. There are always folk around who will be hard to take. Sometimes they will be downright faithless in their responsibilities. We can’t let them get to us! Spiritual strength will find a way, with God’s help, to go on with our responsibilities no matter what any one else is up to.

Humor is quite useful in this, by the way. Perhaps some of you saw the News Hour interview last week with former Senator Simpson. He is now co-chair of a commission to rein in the federal deficit. The interview was very encouraging: he knows that his new job is akin to a suicide mission, but he plans to use humor as an instrument. Partisan politics has no humor, he pointed out, which is exactly why finding a way to kid a little is the only way to make progress. A wry remark can help us not take ourselves so seriously and he seems to have a good supply if them. God bless Senator Simpson and his colleagues: getting the federal deficit under control will take a lot of good humor.

But what I am suggesting here has some very practical applications. You and I face life’s challenges from a position of strength, and that is helpful in day to day stuff. We are sisters and brothers of someone who successfully stood up to Satan himself. We’re tough! We can afford to be gracious. God and the angels were there for Jesus, so God and the angels will be there for us. Recalling this allows us to enter stressful situations with a feeling of confidence, which should certainly make everything go a little better, whether it is a major public issue, or something we are involved in on a more local level. Spiritual strength has practical fruits vis a vis our neighbor.

Let me throw in one last point. Spiritual strength is also needed when we look at ourselves. And I don’t have in mind just that we can somehow rein in our worst impulses. No—and here I’m picking up on my theme from Ash Wednesday—it has to do with accepting who we are with good grace. “Remember that you are dust,” is the theme of Ash Wednesday. And if we hear this in the right way, a strong way, it is good news. We don’t have to pretend to be more than we are. We are but dust, so if we accomplish anything at all we have every right to take satisfaction in it. Spiritual strength about ourselves is the ability to see that we are creatures, but to be ok with that. After all, God has promised a very great deal to us, so we can afford to be humble while we wait.

God says (according to Psalm 91) “Because you are bound to me in love, therefore will I deliver you; I will protect you, because you know my Name.” Well, the name to hang on to is the Name of Jesus. It is a strong Name! He is the one who sent the devil packing, so he is the one to call upon today: especially in the month of February.

Ash Wednesday 2010

The Psalm we read a few minutes ago tells us something important about God: “He himself knows whereof we are made; he remembers that we are but dust.”

You and I may forget this. We get egotistical and think that things revolve around us. We imagine that our place in the universe is somehow really secure. But God knows better. Maybe that’s because God was there at the beginning, when we were taken from the dust. God remembers that we are dust, and that our span is not very long.

In our egotism we sometimes have bones to pick with God, about all sorts of things. But really, what sense does that make? Given what we are made out of, we can’t expect that everything will work out the way we want.

But God sees more clearly, and God has compassion. God is merciful to us as we make our dusty way through life.

So maybe one result of reminding ourselves, as we do today, that we are but dust, by putting a little dust on our foreheads, is that we could be a little more compassionate too. I mean, compassionate to ourselves! We beat ourselves up about all sorts of things. That we aren’t richer, or smarter or better looking, to name but a few. But if we reflect for a second “whereof we are made,” then a lot of the pressure comes off! We’re actually doing pretty well, all of us are, if you take into account whereof we are made. May this happen for you then, as you get your ashes today: may you feel a little better about yourself, maybe even some amazement at yourself, how well you are doing, considering.

Another advantage looms closely after: if I feel less pressured about myself, I am more apt to be considerate of others. I don’t have to turn you into a stepping stone for my future success if I am already doing surprisingly well in the present. How much more success do I need anyway? I’m breathing, and thinking an occasional coherent thought, and laughing at some jokes, and admiring the scenery. For a little pile of dust, that’s remarkable! This perspective frees me to hope that you are doing well too! For that matter, if you need a hand let me know and I’ll do what I can. I’ll expect the same in return. We creatures of a day must stick together: we will be full of compassion if we remember that we are but dust.

However, if the only reason we wear ashes today is to remind ourselves that we are mortal, that wouldn’t be the whole story. Our faith urges us to look beyond our mortality, to God, who wants to do something about our mortality. God’s compassion is not for this life only: it is forever.

Indeed Jesus speaks of our Heavenly Father having a reward for us, if we fast and pray and give alms in the right spirit. What can that reward be but the gift of the Holy Spirit, who breathes new life into us, in this life, and in the world to come? By accepting our mortality, and not trying to hang on to what has no future, a future opens up for us. “There is a future for the peaceable,” says another Psalm. The future we look to is a future with God, who raised Christ from the dead, and has promised to remember us as well.

So there is another way that we can understand the phrase, “God remembers that we are but dust.” It also means, God is aware how fragile we are and intends to do something about it. God intends to give us God’s own life when ours runs low. This is a mystery that we can peer into but very darkly, dust that we are. But the ashes we assume today are an appeal to God, not to forget that we are dust and that we need help. Our ashes are a plea to God, not to leave us in our low estate, but to lift us to something better.

But the first step, I really think, is to acknowledge what we are at the moment. Let us remember whereof we are made. A moment of mental clarity about who we are can lead to great things, if it is the Holy Spirit who shows the way.

February 14, 2010                                                       Last Epiphany

The Collect of the Day sets before us two things that need to be kept together: Christ’s glory, and Christ’s passion, that is, his suffering. “O God, who before the passion of your only begotten Son revealed his glory upon the mountain,” begins the Collect. The dazzling glory of the Transfiguration therefore is set against the somber backdrop of Christ’s suffering. Or here’s a thought: is it actually the other way around? That Christ’s great suffering, when it comes, must be set against the glorious backdrop of Christ’s divinity which prevails in the end?

If we wanted to draw a picture of the scene we are considering, we would have a choice what to place in the foreground. We could draw a suffering Jesus, surrounded by golden glory. Or we could draw a glorious Jesus, with the cross or some other symbol of his passion conspicuous in the background. We might even, taking a hint from John’s Gospel, try to combine the two, and depict Jesus on the cross as precisely the full revelation of his glory.

In any event, there is an edgy quality to whatever picture we might draw, and an unresolved feeling to our worship today. Neither can quite rest, because there is a tension to be worked out. Jesus must go through death into new life, and then we will have the whole story, tensions will be resolved, and grace and peace will abound. On Easter Day we will have nothing but joy. But until then there is work to be done. Jesus has work to do, and so do we, if we are to follow him in heart and mind through it all. Our collect alludes to this also, asking God to grant that “We may be strengthened to bear our cross, and be changed into his likeness from glory to glory.”

Let me say a little about both of these themes then, two things we need to be thinking about as we make our way towards Easter. First, “bearing our cross,” and then, “being changed into Christ’s likeness from glory to glory.”

First then the perennial question: what does it mean to bear our cross? My answer is that it means the same thing for us as it did for Jesus. For Jesus, carrying his cross was the ultimate sign of being faithful to the very end. Jesus needed to finish his work of witness. If Jesus had quit before he came to the part about literally carrying his cross, his story would have been incomplete. We would not have seen the outcome of what happens when perfect Love enters this world. Jesus stood for something—perfect Love-- that the world as it then was could not tolerate, and so he was crushed. This story, of the light shining in the dark and the darkness doing everything in its power to extinguish the light, needed to be told to its finish. Otherwise we wouldn’t know how it comes out.

So for Jesus to take up his cross and carry it all the way is a symbol of his obedience, his faithfulness, his willingness to fulfill a mission to the very end. If that is what it meant to him, it stands to reason it means the same for us. When we talk about bearing our cross, properly speaking therefore we are talking about being obedient and faithful to whatever we are called to do, to the very end. I think it is important to stress this because sometimes people think that any old bad thing that befalls us must be a cross to be endured. Well, maybe, but sometimes bad stuff happens that seems pretty random. I don’t rule out that an accident or an annoying co-worker and so forth could be a cross to be borne. Certainly people who endure suffering gracefully out of an abundant Christian spirit are doing God’s work. But I really think that it is what we encounter in the line of Christian duty that truly reveals us to be followers of Jesus. It is in bearing faithful witness in our circumstances that we faithfully bear our crosses.

Now someone may be thinking, “Wait a minute! I try to be a faithful Christian but to be honest I’m not suffering very much—does that mean I’m getting it wrong?” Well, not necessarily. Life today may in fact not have as many rough edges as it did in Jesus’ day. It’s no longer illegal to be a Christian, for instance. I can easily imagine a faithful Christian life that provokes hardly any resistance or suffering. But it’s not how much pain we endure, it is how persistent we are in living out our calling, that tells us whether we are really bearing our cross or not. It’s not up to us whether the world takes offense at our Christian ways, and creates suffering for us. It may take offense or it may not. What is up to us is continuing to trust God, and being loving, and faithful, and hopeful. If we do those things through thick and thin, we will be bearing our cross, and following Jesus.

To help us get better at trusting God and grow in love, hope, and faith, Christian tradition offers us the season of Lent, which is now near at hand. Let me remind us all what are the traditional disciplines of Lent: they are prayer, fasting and almsgiving. To help us work on these matters collectively, so that we walk together through these 40 days, St. Thomas’ provides some resources. For almsgiving, we have our weekly special Lenten collections. The Outreach Commission has designated six charities to be the recipients of our special collections, and will provide information about them week by week so you will know what you are giving alms for. By way of fasting, we encourage you to give up something that is expensive enough that by not buying it, you have more to share with the poor. Old-hands here will know that I often give up Wheat Thins in Lent! Well, that’s about three dollars I’ll save each week to put in the special offering box each Sunday. So fasting and almsgiving go together: what we don’t consume ourselves, we share with others. For prayer, we have added an additional celebration of Holy Eucharist on Wednesday evenings at 7PM. There is already a celebration on Thursdays at 11AM, which includes laying-on of hands and anointing for healing. I commend these services to you as ways of focusing your spiritual energies. All in all these disciplines really are useful, for they slowly make us more effective witnesses of God’s love.

So much for bearing our cross: let us say that we are faithful in following Jesus: where is he taking us? Well, the answer is pretty clear. We are bound for glory. To help us picture what that might look like, our lessons give us some pretty exciting images. First there is Moses, lit up like a torch with skin so shiny the people “were afraid to come near him.” It was being in the presence of God that made Moses so shiny. Moses even wore a veil, we are told, so that he wouldn’t scare people.

Jesus lit up too, on the holy mountain with Peter, James and John. “The appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white.” Moses and Elijah appeared and talked with him, and a cloud overshadowed him. Again, the point of all this is that immediate presence of God, which presumably was always with Christ invisibly, burst forth from Jesus on this occasion so that even mortal eyes could see it.

So if we are bound for glory, one thing it means is that we will start to glow. And you know what? I’ve seen that, and I bet you have too. I’ve seen it most often in worship, in services when everything is clicking and you just tell that God is with us. A hymn in the green hymnal has the words to describe it. I’m thinking of Hymn 752, “There’s a sweet, sweet Spirit in this place, and I know that it’s the Spirit of the Lord. There are sweet expressions on each face, and I know they feel the presence of the Lord.” An effervescent melody helps. We sing this occasionally as a communion hymn at 10AM. To my mind, the special joy it describes is a genuine phenomenon. People really do light up when worship is good. The glory of God is known among us in this life.

Nor is it only in worship that we know the glory of God. Moments of shining come in prayer, in conversation, in study, in serving together. As faithful followers of Jesus, fellow bearers of the Cross, we may not all experience resistance and pain. But I am willing to promise that we will all experience the glory, as we are changed into His likeness, day by day.

My last thought on all this; what a heartening hope it is, that we are being changed into the likeness of Christ! Not physically, but mentally, and emotionally, and spiritually. Wouldn’t that be great: what a quality of insight and compassion and faithfulness we will have one day, when our transfiguration is complete!