Transfiguration: Seeing The Face of God Last EpiphanyC

Transfiguration: Seeing The Face of God

Eight days after asking his disciples, “Who do you say that I am?” Eight days after Peter says, “You are the Christ, the Anointed, the Messiah of God!” Eight days after he told them to keep silent; to tell no one. Eight days after he said, “The son of man must undergo suffering and be rejected…and be killed, and on the third day be raised.” Eight days after he said, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves, take up their cross daily, and follow me.” [i] 

Eight days later he took Peter, James, and John up the mountain to pray. A while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him…they were speaking of his exodus, his departure which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. [ii] 

The appearance of the face of Christ changed. It was bright! It was transcendent! As he prayed for the poor, the hungry, the blind, the people of the land, his face changed, so deep was his love for them all. So deep were his prayer that suddenly there appeared Moses and Elijah. Two more of the elders of Israel. First, there were Simeon and Anna at the Temple when he was just 40 days old. Those two elders of the community had been there a long long time awaiting his arrival. Now two who had been waiting even longer answered his prayers. Moses who led the first departure from Egypt, the Exodus from slavery to new freedom. Moses of whom it is said that no one knows where he was buried. And Elijah. Elijah who fed starving widows. Elijah who gave new life to a dying child. Elijah whose exodus, whose departure in a chariot of fire has long been believed to return one day to signal the arrival of one who would announce the beginning of the reign of God. Moses and Elijah come to see Jesus whose face has changed, whose clothes had become dazzling, blindingly white and bright! 

Once upon a time, there was a little man, not even five feet tall, a bishop in a poor diocese in Brazil, who in 1968 visited the United States of America. Bishop Dom Helder Camara had been working to help the poor in the Diocese of Recife and Olinda and to fight the repressive fascist regime that had taken over his country. On his visit here he found that there was profound poverty in America. He visited with Mother Theresa. He visited with Dorothy Day. Two women who had dedicated themselves, like their Lord Jesus, to lift up the poor and the working class. He spent time with Caesar Chavez speaking to the United Farm Workers in California. There is a movie, Excuse Me America, which documents his visit. 

At one point Dom Helder says to the UFW workers, “Beware of being divided. Beware of individualism. The powerful have an interest in dividing you. If the poor are divided then they have no strength.” Then, after Communion, they all sang We Shall Overcome. And if you see the movie, that’s when it happens. As they sing, “We are not afraid, we are not afraid, today…” Dom Helder’s face is changed. His eyes look upward as if he sees the face of God in the singing. His face begins to shine! It is bright as he looks into the face of God. The appearance of his face is changed, like Jesus on the mountain. It is a moment of transfiguration as I watched the movie. I was sure I was looking at the transfigured face of God in that little man who had challenged the fascists; who had found food and housing for the poor; who came all the way to America so that we might see in a person what it looks like, what it sounds like, to pick up your cross daily and follow Jesus. 

Back in Brazil, although his ministry engendered a great deal of love among the common people, among the rich and powerful who were in charge it engendered hate. Dom Helder himself would say, “When I give food to the poor they call me a saint. When I ask why they are poor they call me a communist.” At first, he was blacklisted by the fascist regime. Then censors forbade the media from interviewing or quoting Dom Helder. Yet, he persisted to preach the Good News of Jesus against injustice of all kinds. Then one day there was a knock on the door of his little house. When he opened the door there was a man pointing a gun at him. “I’ve been hired to assassinate you,” the man said. Dom Helder replied, “Then you will send me straight to the Lord.” 

Astounded by this reply, the assassin – himself from the impoverished classes – lowered his gun and let loose his tears. “I can’t kill you,” he sobbed, “You belong to God.” A moment of transfiguration in the face of a stranger sent to kill. An assassin had seen the face of God in the tiny bishop of Recife and Olinda. 

Transfiguration is that moment when we understand that we all belong to God. This was Dom Helder’s message. This is what Peter, James, and John were to learn when suddenly a cloud overshadowed the mountain and a voice out of the cloud declared, “This is my Son, my chosen. Listen to him!” Dom Helder had listened to Jesus and followed him faithfully. One could see it in his face, in his eyes. But most of all in every word he said, and everything he did. 

Whatever Jesus was praying on that mountain top when Moses and Elijah showed up, I am sure now, having seen Dom Helder Camara, bishop of Recife and Olinda in Brazil transfigured that day with the United Farmworkers, I am sure Jesus prayed that one by one every single one of us would one day be transfigured so that one day the face of God could be seen in every human face. 

This must be what Transfiguration means: to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbors as ourselves. After seeing Dom Helder in Excuse Me America, I began to see the face of God in others. I worked with children and teen agers who lived in group homes and a foundling hospital. I could see the face of God in the little boys I was tasked to teach the Lord’s Prayer who, when I started to pray, “Our Father….” stopped me and one after another said, “I don’t have a father. How can I pray this prayer?” I saw the face of God in the medical ward in a young girl lying in a hospital bed who had been born with no brain, only a brain stem, who still could respond to touch and prayer. I saw the face of God in a thirteen-year-old girl who was pregnant and did not know what to do next. And I saw the face of God in my supervisor at the New York Foundling Hospital, Sister Anne Flood, Sisters of Charity. 

Christ’s transfigured face can be seen anywhere and everywhere when we hear the voice from whatever cloud obscures our vision. It tells us, implores us, to listen to Jesus. Listen to him, and see the face of God. And like Jesus that day on the mountain top, we will be changed, and we shall shine like the Sun, and we will begin to see the face of God everywhere, in everyone, and in everything.

World without end, Amen. 

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[i] Luke 9:18-27

[ii] Luke 9:28-37

Jesus's Third Way Epiphany 7C

Jesus’s Third Way     Epiphany 7C

The Sermon on the Plain in Luke continues. As if the choices Jesus offered in his Blessings and Woes were not challenging enough to his emerging Community of Love, along comes the commandment to “Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.” [i] To love God, love neighbors, and to love ourselves is demanding enough for most of us most of the time. But our usual response toward enemies, whether within or beyond the Community of Love, is either to fight or flee – fight or flight. Love is about the last thing we might consider when confronted with those who hate us, those who curse us, and those who abuse us. 

Fortunately, Jesus offers some examples that help us to see that this “Love” he is talking about is less a noun, characteristic, or emotional state, than it is an action. It helps to know that Jewish teaching [Exodus 23:4-5, Proverbs 24:17; 25:21] commands helping and aiding enemies “in order to ‘subdue the evil inclination.’” [ii] Perhaps Jesus is suggesting a sense of fairness toward one’s enemies. 

Yet, the examples seem to point to the enemies of occupation: the legions and bureaucracy of Rome. By the time of Jesus there were reminders stretching all along the roadways of those thousands who had resisted the occupation now crucified and left as an example for all to see every day. By the time Luke was writing, the Temple and Jerusalem had been burned to the ground to quell the Jewish insurrection. It was common practice for a centurion or even a bureaucrat to slap an insolent person on the cheek. And it was typical of a landowner to demand of those indebted to him a cloak, an outer garment, as a pledge until the debt is paid-off. If you were to refuse, you might be taken to debtors-court. In either case, we tend to  hear this giving away, or turning the other cheek, as a kind of passive giving in to injustice and becoming a “Christian doormat.” Attempting to fight or flee would carry dire reprisals. 

Walter Wink, in his little book, Jesus and Nonviolence suggests that Jesus appears to be offering what he calls A Third Way. Instead of withstanding the punishing slap on the cheek, turn the other cheek. In a dominant right-handed world, the slap would be done with the left hand which in 1^st century society was the hand used for unclean tasks. Backhanding was the common way to admonish inferiors: masters backhanded slaves; husbands, wives; parents, children; Romans, Jews. But if you turn the other cheek, he is almost forced to slap with the palm of the hand or a fist, which is to acknowledge you are a peer. You rob the oppressor of the power to humiliate. And you seem to say, “Go ahead, try again! I refuse to be humiliated. You cannot demean me. I am a human being just like you.” Far from being submissive or passive, turning the other cheek becomes an act of nonviolent defiance! [iii] 

Similar with the debtor and the cloak. The poorest of the poor could have their only cloak revoked. It was often one’s only source of warmth on the cold desert nights. Again, Wink suggests, if you not only give up your outer-garment, but also your under-garment, now you are naked. If this happened in court, you would surely lose the case, but now you have turned the tables. You have refused to be humiliated, and registered a stunning blow against an unfair system that spawns onerous indebtedness. In any event, nakedness was taboo, and the shame fell not on the naked party, but on the person viewing or even causing the nakedness. You nonviolent act of defiance has unmasked the creditor not as a fair money lender, but rather as party to a ruthless system that reduces an entire social class to landlessness and destitution. No Christian doormats here. This is one way to love one’s enemies.” 

At the center of this portion of the Sermon on the Plain, is the imperative that in all situations in this life we are to be “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful… for he is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked.” Mercy is a central dimension of what it means to love one another, even our enemies. To which Jesus adds an example not only of the quality of mercy, but the quantity as well. As to the qualities of mercy and love, Jesus piles up the imperatives: do not judge, do not condemn, always forgive, always give, and as Psalm 37 commands, do not fret and refrain from anger. These are meant to be qualities of life within the Community of Love, as well as qualities of mercy and love we might do well to apply to ourselves if we are to have any chance of loving others as ourselves, and as God loves us and is merciful towards us. 

Jesus is essentially in agreement with The Beatles when Paul sings, “And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make.” But of course, this is Jesus Christ the Son of God who always challenges us to go one step further in our love and mercy for others: the measure of love and mercy you will get in return for loving others will be “a good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap; for the measure you give will be the measure you get back." We tend to overlook just what Jesus is really saying here. Whenever I in the past, or now in the present, have asked one of our children or grandchildren for a cup of flour when I’m in the kitchen, as Jesus says, they would always come with at least a cup and a quarter or more, spilling all over the counter, the floor, and all over my lap. It turns out the measure of love and mercy we give to others results in even more you get back from God our Father, who is merciful, gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love. With no offense to Sir Paul, but the love you take will be greater than the love you make when you love God and love neighbors and enemies as you love yourself! 

There are always those who will say none of this is practical; fight or flight are the only things that really work; the Third Way of Nonviolence is pie in the sky. To which one might say, “Tell that to Ruby Bridges, or John Lewis, or Ghandi, or Oscar Romero, or Mother Theresa, or Dorothy Day, or St. Francis of Assisi.” There are those who have tried Jesus’s Third Way of Nonviolence and have made the world a better place. Again, Luke’s Sermon on the Plain presents a fork in the road; a choice to be made. Will I judge others, condemn others, be angry with others, or will I be merciful and love others, as our Father is merciful and abounds in steadfast love? 

Walter Wink concludes, “Many people have not aspired to Jesus’s Third Way because it has been presented to them as absolute pacifism, a life-commitment to nonviolence in principle, with no exceptions. They are neither sure they can hold fast to its principles in every situation, nor sure that they have the saintliness to overcomes their own inner violence…. We can commit ourselves to following Jesus’s way as best we can. We know we are weak and will probably fail. But we also know that God loves and forgives us and sets us back on our feet after every failure and defeat…Jesus’s Third Way is not an insuperable counsel to perfection attainable only by the few. It is simply the right way to live, and can be pursued by many. “ [iv]

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[i] Luke 6:27-38

[ii] Levine, Amy Jill, The Jewish Annotated New Testament (Oxford University Press, NY:2011) p.126

[iii] Wink, Walter, Jesus and Nonviolence, (Fortress Press, Minneapolis: 2003) p.14-16

[iv] Ibid, Wink, p.102-103

Which Way Will We Go? Epiphany 6C

 

Which Way Will We Go?

At one time or another, we all come to a fork in the road and need to decide which way to go. Often, we will sit down and make a list of pros and cons to help us to decide. In evangelist Luke’s version of the Beatitudes and Sermon on the Mount, Jesus seems to be doing just that: unlike Matthew 5:1-12 which lists 9 blessings, Jesus in Luke 6:17-26 presents 4 blessings and 4 woes. The setting is also different: Matthew places the teaching atop a mountain, whereas Luke describes Jesus, his newly chosen 12 disciples and other disciples, coming down from a mountain top to meet with people on a level ground. That is, he comes down to meet the crowds where they are. Where they are is in great need: in need of hearing him speak, and in need of being healed from various diseases; from what we might call various kinds of dis-ease. 

Jesus says that those who are blessed are poor, hungry, weeping, and reviled. To be blessed is not to be happy as we might look at it, nor is it to adopt a particular moral character. It is something more like “congratulations” or “fortunate” – as you might congratulate a friend who has won the lottery. Which seems like an oxymoron. Which seems outrageous and just plain weird. It seems equally foolish and weird in our culture to declare that those who are wealthy, well fed, happy, and of good reputation are in any way unfortunate. What is the teacher up to? 

We can be sure that the Jews in this highly diverse crowd from Gentile and Jewish territories recognize this. It is an important part of their past. They recall that the diverse group of former slaves who escaped from Egypt, after forty years, that is several generations, are about to cross the River Jordan into the land YHWH the God of the Exodus has promised to be their new home. Moses sits everyone down to make sure they (and we) remember all they have learned during their wilderness sojourn. He says there is a choice to be made: “I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Choose life so that you and your descendants may live, loving the Lord your God, obeying him, and holding fast to him, for that means life to you and length of days, so that you may live in the land that the Lord swore to give to your ancestors, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.” [i] The crowd has been at this fork in the road before. They recognize Jesus is channeling Moses. Trust in the ways of the Lord, or succumb to the loneliness and death-dealing of self-sufficiency. 

It is the same choice the prophet Jeremiah sets before the people some six hundred years prior to the time of Jesus: Cursed are those who put their trust in mortals; Blessed are those who trust in the Lord. That is, life that is true life, life that is like a tree planted ‘by water,’ will be nourished in the ways of the Lord and able to withstand years of drought, years of anxiety, and know that in the end all shall be well. Those who trust in mortals “shall be like a shrub in the desert, and shall not see when relief comes. They shall live in the parched places of the wilderness.” [ii] Trust in the Lord, or succumb to the withering anxiety of a self-sufficiency that never believes there is enough. 

Psalm 1 offers a similar choice: “Happy are they who have not walked in the counsel of the wicked, nor lingered in the way of sinners, nor sat in the seats of the scornful! Their delight is in the law of the Lord, and they meditate on his law day and night.” [iii] The way of life and happiness is for those who delight in Torah, the teachings of the Lord gleaned in the wilderness sojourn. Not so for the wicked. The psalmist concludes, “for the Lord watches over the way of the righteous, but the way of the wicked will perish.” (v.6) 

It has been noted that the Hebrew word for ‘happy’ begins with the first letter of the alphabet, and the word for ‘perish’ begins with the last word of the alphabet. Psalm 1, in a sense sums it all up, from beginning to end, A to Z, Alpha to Omega, from Aleph to Tav. This happiness is not self- gratification or self-sufficiency, but rather means to be connected to the source of life thru the study of Torah, God’s instructions. One is happy when one is connected to the source of all life. Whereas the scoffers, the wicked, are those not open to instruction. They know it all. In either case, happiness is not a reward, nor is wickedness a punishment. Wickedness is simply a choice not to be connected to God and to others, since God’s instruction is all about how one is to live with and among and for others. In that sense, wickedness throughout the Psalms means to be self-centered and self-directed rather than God-centered and God-directed. In a word, wickedness is autonomy, which literally means you are “a law unto oneself.” [iv] 

Again, those in the crowd from Jerusalem and Galilee, at the center of Torah, God’s instructions, is Love. Love understood not as a romantic quality, but as the foundation of how one respects the dignity of every person, and seeks to meet the needs of others. All others. Which is what Jesus teaches – to Love God, and to Love our neighbors as ourselves. As to who is our neighbor, Torah and Jesus expand neighborliness beyond nearby friends and family to mean all people in need of healing, love, and care: the widow, the orphan, and even enemies like the Samaritans, and immigrants fleeing warfare, danger, drought, famine, repressive regimes, and all sorts of “natural and man-made” disasters. Later in Luke Jesus defines the unboundedness of such love of neighbor in the story of the Good Samaritan. A story rooted in the most ancient understanding of God’s love and solidarity with all those beyond the community of faith and of any and all ethnicity. Torah teaches, “The alien who resides with you shall be to you as the native-born among you; you shall love the alien as yourself, for you were aliens in the land of Egypt: I am the Lord your God.”[v] We are not taught to be self-sufficient, but to care for one another. This is the very heart of Torah. This is the Gospel – The Good News of Jesus Christ the Son of God. 

In his sermon on level ground, the words of Jesus rest on the conviction that when God created the world, it was good. Good means that there was enough richness, beauty, and abundance to nourish the whole creation and every creature therein. God made enough for everyone and everything to flourish so that everyone could look and say, “This is good. This is very good.” Richard Swanson recalls his grandmother saying, “God made enough for everyone’s need, but not enough for everyone’s greed.” Blessed are you who are hungry. God made the miracle of creation so that there will be someone to feed you. Woe to you who are rich. You have filled your pockets by refusing to share. “Give to everyone who begs from you,” says Jesus. “As you wish people to do for you, do the same for them,” he says. Love your neighbor as yourself and all will be blessed. All will be happy. I wonder, asks Swanson, if anyone believes Jesus’s words? [vi] 

We find ourselves at a fork in the road. Which way will we go?

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[i] Deuteronomy 30:19-20

[ii] Jeremiah 17:5-10

[iii] Psalm 1:1-2

[iv] McCann Jr, J. Clinton, Texts for Preaching (Westminster John Knox Press, Lexington: 1994) p. 145

[v] Leviticus 19:34

[vi] Swanson, Richard W., Provoking the Gospel of Luke (Pilgrim Press, Cleveland: 2006) p.108-109.

All Those Fish! Epiphany 5C

 All Those Fish!

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,

And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;

And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,

When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.

-Lord Byron, The Destruction of Sennacherib 

Freshman year in high school we had to memorize Lord Byron’s The Destruction of Sennacherib, a poem that describes the Eighth Century BCE Assyrian Deportation and resettlement of all of the Northern Kingdom of Israel, followed by the destruction of all the towns in Judea, the southern kingdom under Sennacherib, King of Assyria. The assault on Jerusalem was halted due to a divine intervention, but the deportation was completed. 

The time leading up to the deportation is when Isaiah was appointed by the Lord God of Israel to deliver the news. Isaiah is in awe! The house of the Lord is filled with burning coals, incense and smoke, and seraphim (seraph means “burning” ), each with six wings, two to cover their faces, two to cover their feet, and two with which to fly, singing, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory,” perhaps the oldest liturgical hymn, now the source of our Sanctus, and is sung every day by men and women in front of the Western Wall. Isaiah says he lacks the necessary credentials, "Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!" [Isaiah 6:1-13]  And yet, when the Lord asks who will deliver the news, Isaiah famously replies, “Here am I; send me.” Isaiah then begins his prophetic career announcing the coming destruction. 

The Psalmist in Psalm 138, also lived in troublesome and dark times. He, or she,  sings I “will bow down toward your holy temple and praise your Name, your reputation, your character because of your love and faithfulness.” Further, sings the psalmist, our God  cares for the lowly and keeps the  haughty and arrogant at a distance. This is echoed in Luke’s Song of Mary to describe her child, Jesus. Jesus embodies God’s strange sovereignty, distancing himself from the proud and powerful in favor of the lowly. Psalm 138 is thus expressive of the topsy-turvy values that prevail in the reign of God where the last will be first, and the first will be last. Though God’s deliverance is always a present reality, we also acknowledge that it is as-yet to be fulfilled. Nevertheless, those who eschew self-sufficiency for their commitment to these values of the reign of God, are assured that despite the “not-yetness,” God will fulfill God’s purposes for us and for our world. 

Then there is Simon Peter and all those fish. This opening episode in chapter five of Luke is most often called Jesus Calls the First Disciples. The first thing one notices is, however, that he does not call them at all. Simon, along with the Zebedee brothers James and John, had been fishing all night and caught nothing. They landed their boats and were washing their nets. Along comes Jesus who commandeers Simon’s boat, puts out into the water, and teaches the crowds on the shore from the boat. We are not told what he is preaching, but earlier we are told he has been all over the place teaching about the kingdom of God, which he says “is at hand,” and involves the lifting up of the lowly and distancing oneself from the arrogant and haughty; here and now. 

When he finishes teaching, Jesus instructs Simon to put out to deeper water “and let down your nets for a catch." At first Simon tries to reason with him. After all, they have cleaned the nets and no fish were caught all night. But then, he says, “Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets." And that’s when it happens. The net is filled with so many fish that Simon has to call the Zebedee’s boat, and still there are so many fish that both boats are in danger of sinking! Simon kneels before Jeus and blurts out, "Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!" Those first hearing this story will recognize that Simon Peter sounds a lot like Isaiah, and to us a lot like Mike Myers’s and Dana Carvey in Wayne’s World, “I am not worthy, I am not worthy!” Jesus replies, "’Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.’ When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.” Whatever catching people means, Simon, James and John abandon everything, boats, nets, families, and follow Jesus to find out.

 Like Isaiah, all though it does not necessarily make sense, when Jesus says ‘let’s do this,’ Simon  and company do it. This is what following Jesus is all about. It may not agree with what we believe or understand, but as Nike used to say,  “Just do it!” You will always be surprised whatever happens! 

Then there is the abundance. Superabundance really! We know about the water turned into 180 gallons of wine. We know about bread and fish leftovers after feeding in excess of 5,000 people. Now it is fish! And even if Simon Peter has no idea what Jesus means by fishing for people, this event foreshadows what happens Luke’s Volume 2, The Book of the Acts of the Apostles: On the day of Pentecost Simon Peter addresses a slightly hostile crowd who accuse the disciples of being drunk first thing in the morning. Lo and behold: the result of his speech, thousands sign-on to follow in the Way of Jesus. Pentecost is his first success as fishing for people. 

Then there is the ending. They leave everything – boats, nets, and all those fish – and leave to follow Jesus. This is Luke’s curious commentary on the use of possessions. It speaks of a radical unconcern for possessions which seems to be integral to being a disciple. They leave it all behind to follow someone they don’t really know yet, and surely do not understand. Once again, the story of all those fish foreshadows what takes place in the book of Acts where the growing community of Christ shares all things in common and redistribute everything as others have need. All this sharing and giving in Acts attracts more and more followers. 

Most of all, the story means to speak of the awesome presence of God in someone who is a person, a human, just like us all. Simon recognizes this presence, even if he does not understand it. There is no conversation about “who are you?” or “how did this happen?” Simon and others in the crowd, recognize the awesome presence of God just as Isaiah experienced it nearly 800 years before, and as the psalmist in Psalm 138 recognized the love and faithfulness of God. A love and faithfulness that cares for the lowly and distances itself from the arrogant and haughty. 

It is what the Bible sometimes calls “fear of the Lord,” or even “the wrath of God. It is to recognize that I don’t really deserve to be in such a presence, and yet, this is what God’s presence is really all about. Fear of the Lord, or God’s wrath, writes Maggie Ross, is “God’s relentless compassion pursuing us even when we are at our worst.” [i] This is what these stories are really all about. As to all those fish they left behind? I’m not sure, but to this day when in Tiberias along the shore of the Sea of Galilee, you will see that every restaurant has a sign outside featuring St. Peter’s Fish!

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[i] Ross, Maggie, The Fire of Your Life (Paulist Press, New York:1983) p.137

Love Like a New-born Child Candlemass 2025C

 Love Like a New-Born Child

Since I first viewed it, I have long been drawn to a painting of the Christ Child by George de la Tour, working in Lorraine, now eastern France, around 1648: The New-born Child. Unlike so many earlier paintings depicting the Christ as a tiny, king-like figure, surrounded by distinguished visitors offering gifts, including incense to be used by all kings and emperors when they would visit the poor towns of their subjects, La Tour depicts a simpler child. A more human child. In fact, none of the usual iconography of halos and such are present, so one might not at first glance recognize this image as a holy picture at all. 

Yet, there is the light. The woman looking on, perhaps a mid-wife, is holding a candle, shaded from the viewer by her hand. The way in which that light reflects from the head and shoulders of the swaddled child makes it look as if the light emanates from him – the one evangelist John says is the light and the life of the world and all people. There is a silence and a stillness to the image. His mother and the visitor look down at the equally silent and still infant. Then, there is the swaddling. So still, so pale is the infant, that one might think the swaddling bands to be a funeral shroud, much like those wrapped around the mummies of Egyptian pharaohs. As the visitor looks on, Mary looks at her child with somewhat muted, mixed emotions: humble pride, reverence, joy, tenderness, and a sort of sad apprehension. As reported in the gospel accounts, she ponders these things in her heart. 

La Tour, influenced by the Franciscans, presents us with the miracle of the Incarnation of God come to us as one of us, the Light of the World made Flesh and Blood. This infant is like any other new-born child, such that La Tour seems to insist that this child, this Christ is universal, “in and of each one of us, not because he rules the world, but because he chooses to be born just like every one of us.” [i] The swaddling shroud suggests the baby is born to die like one of us as well. And like all of us, this infant is dependent on human love – our love. The same love of Christ that St Francis and his followers spread throughout Europe, serving the poor and neglected folks, and feeding themselves on the scraps they would beg when going from door to door. Francis, like Christ, lived not as a king, not even the life of a rich merchant into which he was born, but a life of servanthood to the lowliest folks like those La Tour depicts in this painting. 

It is such simple folks who greet Mary and Joseph as they arrive at the Jerusalem temple some forty days after the birth of their child. The fortieth day is designated as the time to Present a first-born male child to be dedicated to the Lord God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and to offer a sacrifice for the Purification after giving child-birth, Mary, the infant’s mother. Evangelist Luke tells us that Mary and Joseph purchased a pair of birds to offer for the appointed sacrifice. What Luke does not tell us is that the appointed sacrifice is an unblemished lamb. The birds are an alternative for those people, which was most people, who cannot afford the lamb. Once the birds are purchased, the young mother, her older husband, and their infant child, will be identifiable as poor people. And once they would open their mouths to speak, their distinctly Galilean accent would further identify them as country hicks from the northern region of Israel. [ii] 

It is reasonable to think that given how people will look at bird-people they may want to get in and get out as quickly as possible. That is not happening. Before they get to offer the birds, they are approached by an old man. An old man who is waiting to depart this life for the next, but has been assured by the Holy Spirit that he will see the salvation of his people before that day arrives. Not only that, he takes the child from his mother’s arms! And not only that, he becomes a theological and liturgical poet: "Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel." And not only that, but the old man Simeon is revealed to be a prophet when he declares not only will this child to bring God’s saving grace to Israel, but to Gentiles as well. To the whole world. 

Then as he hands the infant back to his mother, Simeon adds: "This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed-- and a sword will pierce your own soul too." Reinforcing the appearance of the swaddling as a funeral shroud. As Mary no doubt ponders all this in her heart, there is an old woman. This old woman was also prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. After her husband died, she, like the old man, spent day and night at the Temple worshipping, praying and fasting. Suddenly she begins tell everyone awaiting God to do something to save them from the iron rod of Rome that this is the One. This infant is the One for whom we have been praying, fasting and worshipping here day and night. 

I want to believe at some point Joseph intervenes to say, “Thank you very much, but we really need to get on with our rites of Presentation and Purification, so we will be on our way.” And he, Mary and the child offer the birds, and return to Nazareth in Galilee, where the child grows up to be strong, and wise, and the Spirit of the Lord was upon him. The experience was anything but still and silent as George de la Tour would paint some sixteen hundred years into the future. 

The future. This is what it was all about that day in Jerusalem. The old man and the old woman recognized the future in this child Simeon had snatched from his mother’s arms. Mary could see it too. You can see it in her face as la Tour depicts it the child newly born. Something new was about to happen in Israel. And throughout the rest of the world. Something like the same Spirit would inspire in another young man some 1200 years later. Francis of Assisi. 

Francis would hear Jesus on the cross speak to him: Francis, repair my church. The chapel at San Damiano was falling apart, and at first Francis rebuilt it stone by stone. Then Francis realized, it was the Church Catholic, the Church Universal, that was in need of repair, having drifted far from following Christ in serving others and become the power behind the Empire. Francis abandoned his family’s wealth,  gathered a following of others who would commit with him to serve the poor – the bird people. In no time at all he had 5,000 followers, and Clare of Assisi gathered women all over Europe as well. Georges de la Tour saw the faithfulness of all these Franciscans and was moved to paint an infant Christ as a new-born child to remind us, one and all, who would ever see his image, that the Light of Christ shines in us all if we are brave enough not to hide it under a bushel. 

As Francis prayed before the Crucifix in San Damiano, when we see this painting by La Tour,  we see the light of Christ – the light of Christ that shines through and beyond all darkness. We see our common humanity in this infant who is dependent on human love – our love. This Christ is universal, in and of each one of us, not because he rules the world, but because he chooses to be born just like every one of us, shining his light on us and through us so that we, like Francis and Clare, may bring his light and life to others who, like us, are dependent on his love. 

May God for us, whom we call Father; God alongside us, whom we call Son; and God within us, whom we call Spirit; help us to bear the light of Christ to those to whom you send us, through and beyond all darkness. Amen.

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[i] Macgregor, Neil, and Erika Kangmuir, Seeing Salvation: Images of Christ in Art, (Yale University Press, New Haven: 2000) p. 45-48.

[ii] Luke 2:22-4

Suddenly Everyone is a Theologian! Epiphany 3C

 

Suddenly Everyone is a Theologian!

I don’t know about you, but I am getting tired of people hurling hateful rhetoric at our U.S. presidents. It does not matter who it is: it can be Joseph Biden, it can be Donald Trump, and for goodness sake, since I was old enough to pay attention, around eight or nine years-old, I have always been puzzled at people who still hate Franklin Deleno Roosevelt and Abraham Lincoln! What has happened to having some modicum of respect for the office of the President and whomever it is that currently holds that office? Okay, you hate “my” president, then I will hate “yours.” I cannot see how it helps us to be 50 “united states” to behave this way. 

And surely such behavior flies in the face of the most fundamental dimensions of what some would call a “biblical world-view.”  God’s vision of Shalom, oft translated “peace,” for all the earth, all creation, all creatures, the entire cosmos, is that all persons are children of a single family, members of a single tribe, heirs of a single hope, and bearers of a single destiny, namely the care and management of all of God’s creation, all of God’s people, all of God’s creatures, and all of this fragile Earth, our island home. 

To act upon and live into our single destiny, from the outset the Bible makes the audacious assertion that we are all, male and female, created in the “image of God,” or in theological God-speak, imago Dei. Evidently there are those theologians who believe God speaks mostly in Latin! As to the content of God’s image, there is a long historical arc that asserts itself over and over again that our God is “a gracious and merciful God, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love, and relenting from punishment.” [i]  For those of us who read the Bible with any kind of regularity, these qualities of God’s character are to be found in Exodus 34:6, Numbers 14:18, Psalm 86:5,15, Nehemiah 9:31, Joel 2:13, and Jonah 4:2. Which, among other things, insists that the God of the Old Testament is a God of Mercy, Love, Forgiveness, and Shalom. 

It is important for us Christians to recognize that the young Jew named Jesus of Nazareth makes the very same claims about our destiny to embody the essence and image of God, most especially in what we call The Sermon on the Mount, which is his version of a Christian Magna Charta or Constitution. This teaching comprises all of chapters 5, 6 and 7 of Matthew, far more than just the opening salvo we call The Beatitudes. It includes such seminal ideals of Christian moral virtue such as to love our enemies and pray for them; in everything do to others as you would have them do to you, for this is the Law and the Prophets; to be merciful as God is merciful; to be the light of the world. [ii] 

In a truly dramatic moment in the life of Jesus is a sermon he preached in his hometown synagogue, reported to us only by the evangelist Luke (4:16-30), which curiously is assigned for us to be read this week and next. A fault of mine is that I abhor breaking such an important story into more than one reading, and we won’t hear it next week which will be the Feast of the Presentation. Yet, it seems to be pertinent to some of the events of the past week. Jesus is handed the scroll of the prophet Isaiah, and seems to choose to read from chapter 61: "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor." He then hands the scroll back, sits down, and as the eyes of the whole congregation were looking at him, he preached arguably the shortest sermon in the history of Christian homiletics: "Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing." 

Both Isaiah and Jesus would be understood to be referencing The Jubilee Year as prescribed in Leviticus 25:9-10: a time when all debts are to be canceled, debt-slaves set free, and a full economic and community reset is to take place. It is a story that demonstrates what being merciful looks like: to care for those who are most at risk. At first the hometown crowd cheers the young man. Then after giving illustrations of Elijah and Elisha offering mercy to foreigners and perceived enemies, suddenly the crowd turns ugly and tries to run him out of town and toss him over a cliff. Somehow, he calmly walks away “through the midst of them.” 

Can we see just how odd it is that we get this story this week? After all holy-hell broke loose the day after Bishop Marriann Budde made a plea for mercy for people who are legitimately scared and frightened in the current national climate? It was a prayer service for National Unity, something the president has stated as a priority more than once. A key element of prayer is making pleas. Yet, her plea has been characterized as everything from biblical and true to the gospel of Jesus Christ, to a tirade, a scolding, and worse. Against the back drop of two of Jesus’s best-known sermons, and Paul urging the church in Corinth to embrace all the different parts of the Body of Christ, as all are necessary, and all depend on one another, it has been baffling for many that so many people have reacted much like that crowd in Nazareth when Jesus made a plea for mercy for people both within and beyond the immediate community. It’s almost funny that the Bishop’s plea has resulted in everyone all of a sudden becoming theologians! 

A few thoughts. First, watching the video over and over, Bishop Budde embraced the humility of which she had spoken as foundational to unity, and spoke fearlessly, gently, and quietly. She did not try to make her plea with bombast or speaking louder. She sounded humble and with a sense of the very mercy of which she spoke. Second, she lifted up those who feel at risk, those who feel marginalized, not attacking either the president nor specific policies. There was no taking individuals to task. It did not feel or sound like an anti-administration plea, but rather a pro-those-who-are-afraid-right now plea. Third, as I hear it, she invited all of us, the whole nation, to something higher than politics or winning and losing. She called us to a value that ought to unite us: mercy. She wasn’t arguing for a particular policy, but for a particular posture. The profoundly Christian posture of merciful compassion, especially for the marginalized and those at risk. 

Finally, all speech that seeks to bring the community to anything like unity is political. All of Jesus’s speech with the Pharisees, Sadducees, Scribes, Herod and Pilate, even his speech in his hometown synagogue that day in Nazareth, was political. It took place in a culture that does not recognize a divide between religious speech and political speech. Political, from the Greek polis, means “citadel, city, or community.” All community speech, even in the community of love, is political by definition. It is such speech that is meant to protect us like a citadel on a hill. 

It feels risky to attempt to frame this all within the context of the portions of God’s Word which some thirty years ago were placed in the lectionary just, as it turns out, for this week of all things. It is impossible not to see how relevant the scripture we are meant to hear and interpret turns out to be. And I fully understand and honor that others may hear all of this in a different way. I would love to hear about that as well. For if anything is needed in the present moment, it is to be merciful in how we speak and live with one another. We need not agree, but to respect one another no matter what is at the very heart of becoming merciful as our Lord himself is merciful.

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[i] Jonah 4:2

[ii] Matthew 7:12, Matthew 5:43-44, Matthew 5:7, Matthew 5:14-16

Do This In Remembrance of Me Epiphany 2C

 Do This In Remembrance of Me

Each time we gather for the Eucharistic feast, we hear Jesus’s words, “Do this in remembrance of me,” twice: for the bread and for the wine. A few weeks ago, I almost stopped as I said those words. I was suddenly overcome with a thought: it sounds as if Jesus thinks that people, including his closest family and disciples, might actually forget him after his crucifixion the next day. Every mention of “disciples” means us, the readers and hearers of these gospel stories. The thought that he would think that we would forget him, that I would forget him, was terribly sad. That even his Body, the Church, might actually forget him was unbearable. And then I thought, day by day, we probably do. There are so many different people, politicians, commercials, corporations, all demanding our attention all day every day on the computer screens we carry with us everywhere we go – it is a very real possibility that remembering Jesus gets crowded out much of our life. All of this was going through my mind as I held the Host up in the air for all of us to see. It felt as if I might break down and cry. That moment has stuck with me ever since. 

I bring this up because this story of a wedding feast may really be about just that: Holy Eucharist, Holy Communion, the Lord’s Supper. We know that in all the chapters in John about the Last Supper, there is no mention of the bread and wine. Instead, Jesus washes people’s feet, and then offers a long farewell speech and prayers asking for his Father to protect those who follow him, who become his Body in this world, here and now. 

Jesus, his mother, and the five disciples he has gathered over the previous two days, arrive in Cana of Galilee where a wedding feast is under way. They were invited to join in the celebration which often went on for several days. Almost immediately, the wine runs out. Perhaps these seven additional guests were not accounted for, which may explain why the mother of Jesus expresses her concern as she mentions the need for more wine to her son. The English translation of his response comes across as harsh, “Woman, what concern is that for you or me. My hour has not yet come.” But the sense of it in Aramaic may simply be, “It’s all right. It’s not time for me yet.” The hour and time for what? In John’s narrative “the hour” always refers to the hour of his glory – his crucifixion, death, and resurrection. [i] 

What happens next echoes the parable of the father who asks his two sons to help with some yardwork, in which the son who says, “Not now, I can’t help right now,” Jesus who appears to blow-off his mother’s concern, immediately takes over and instructs the servers at the wedding feast to fill some jars with water. Six jars each holding 30 gallons to be exact. That’s 180 gallons of water. The empty jars were for the ritual of washing one’s hands before meals. How many people could wash their hands with 180 gallons of water? This is one big wedding party!

Jesus then instructs the servers to take a cup out of one of the jars and take it to the chief steward, the person in charge of the wedding feast. He takes a drink, and immediately calls over the bridegroom who has no idea that the wine has run out, probably no idea that Jesus is there, and no idea that there now seems to be 180 gallons of more wine. The chief steward compliments the bridegroom saying, “Most people serve the good wine first, and once people have been drinking for a few days and are drunk, bring on some cheap stuff – maybe Boone’s Farm, or Thunderbird. But you have saved the best wine for last!” Neither the chief steward nor the bridegroom has any idea what has just happened. Only the servants do. And, of course, those of us reading this.

Jesus’s mother and five disciples see this as a sign. Note, the text says a sign, not a miracle. We are not told how it happened. Just that there was no wine, and now there was lots of wine. Good wine. Perhaps an old vine Zinfandel! 

In chapter six there is a similar story, but this time with bread. Jesus instructs his now twelve disciples to feed a crowd of 5,000 men, along with the women and children traveling with them. “Six months wages would not buy enough bread for all of them to get just a little!” they cry. Just then a boy with five barley loaves and two fish offers what he has for the cause. Jesus takes the bread, blesses it, breaks it, and instructs the disciples to give it away. When everyone has had their fill, he tells them to gather up the leftovers. To everyone’s astonishment, they gather twelve baskets of bread! This, in John, is followed by a long discussion that Jesus is the bread of life. In both of these stories, John suggests that Jesus does not “institute” the Eucharist on the night before he is executed. Jesus institutes the bread and wine every moment of his life. Jesus says, “I am the Bread of life. I am the vine.” The opening verses of John proclaim that Jesus, the Word, is the source of all life, all material, all creation. Including bread. Including wine. [ii] 

The wedding feast and the feeding of the 5,000 are signs, not miracles. Signs of what it means to follow Christ. What it means to “Do this in remembrance of me.” Gail O’Day and Susan Hylen write that, “To share in the Eucharistic meal is not to “remember” or commemorate one particular event, but is to share in all of Jesus’s life, including ultimately his death. Participation in the Eucharist creates a relationship between Jesus and the believer that contains within it the promise of new life… By placing this story of an enormous amount of good wine for the wedding reception into the life of Jesus, John suggests that participation in the flesh and blood, bread and wine, belongs to all the days of Christian life, not just ‘special’ days, because it embodies the possibility of new life with Christ. The Eucharist is a meal of celebration, of sharing in the abundant presence of God in the world.” [iii] 

Several things in all of this. As in the Eucharist in which we share, Jesus who is an invited guest becomes the host. He does this without pomp, without asking for recognition. In fact, the people amazed, the chief steward and bridegroom, have no idea who or even what has taken place. Only the servants who did what Jesus asked them to do. Begging the question, what does Jesus ask us to do each and every day of the week? Also, he sees a need – for more wine, to extend the joy and love of this wedding day, or hungry people following him by the sea Galilee – and then fills that need. What needs do we see that we can we address each day of the week?He takes, blesses, breaks, and gives away the little he has at his disposal and gives it all away. One meaning of these signs he does with wine and bread, is that first change that is affected in us by the touch of Christ upon our lives. Then there is the reminder that there is always more and better to come! 

To do this in remembrance of him, then, is not just to remember the Last Supper, but to allow our fellowship with God, made known in Christ, to touch every moment of every day of our lives, and to remember that “you have kept the good wine until now!” That is, the best is yet to come: new and abundant life in and with Christ. The story concludes saying that those five disciples “believed in him.” Meaning that they commit themselves to Jesus in personal trust as the example of what we are to do and say every day of the week. The Eucharist binds us to him and to one another as a Community of Love: Love of God and Love of neighbor. As we sing, “all are neighbors to us and you.” And that is good news!

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[i] John 2:1-11

[ii] John 6:1-71

[iii]   O’Day, Gail R., and Hylen, Susan F., John (John Knox Westminster Press, Lexington: 2006) p.79

 Hymn 602  Jesu, Jesu 

Jesu, Jesu, fill us with your love,

show us how to serve

the neighbors we have from you.

 

1 Kneels at the feet of his friends,

silently washes their feet,

Master who acts as a slave to them. [Refrain] 

2 Neighbors are rich and poor,

neighbors are black and white,

neighbors are nearby and far away. [Refrain] 

3 These are the ones we should serve,

these are the ones we should love.

All are neighbors to us and you. [Refrain] 

4 Loving puts us on our knees,

serving as though we are slaves;

this is the way we should live with you. [Refrain]