Pulling Back the Veil: Sermon for the Feast of the Transfiguration, August 6, 2023

When I was a kid, my mother bought me a little microscope at a hobby shop in Southland Mall, and a set of glass slides. This was pretty awesome as a gift, because it reminds me that I have ALWAYS been a nerd. I mean really, how many little six-year old kids are thrilled with the gift of a microscope? Dolls I could take or leave, except my Mrs. Beasley doll, but I used that microscope for the next three years to look at all kinds of things—blades of grass, creek water, butterfly wings, and, my favorite, my own blood. That was a trip. It was amazing how something that looked one way with the unaided eye looked completely different with the aid of some magnification and some light.

Magnification and light also were at work in the telescope my brother got about the same time with books and books of S and H green stamps—remember them? This was right about the time of the later moon landings, too. We would train that telescope on the moon, hoping that we could actually see the astronauts walking on the lunar surface. The cheap telescope my family could afford really was not nearly capable of that amount of magnification and resolution, but we still would see some of the features of the moon more clearly than we ever had before. We also saw that some of the things we thought were stars were actually planets!

I actually experienced objects differently once my knowledge of them had been changed through a shift in perception. I became aware- and for a little kid, weirded out—by the idea that that blade of grass was made up of thousands of green cells that looked like bricks, and that my blood wasn’t just red liquid but was made up of all kinds of weird round things floating in it. My mother never again had to tell me to not swallow pond water after I saw all the weird little critters like water fleas and bacteria flailing around in a drop of it.

Those experiences with the microscope and the telescope completely transformed my perception of the natural world. Microscopes and telescopes don’t just magnify light, they remind us that our world is so much more complex than what we see as we take things for granted in the hurry-scurry of our lives. And that is infinitely more true about the life of faith in God, as the Transfiguration reminds us.

It’s like that engraving on the side mirrors on your car: “Objects in Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear.” Things are really NOT as they appear. They are greater. And if that is true about a blade of grass, that is abundantly true about Jesus.

I’m not one who tends to hold with the idea that God “gives” us experiences for a reason. I’m more inclined to think that, later on, we attach the reason to the experience, particularly if the experience was difficult at the time we went through it, like when someone you thought was a friend betrays you, or someone takes a dislike to you for no discernible reason.

I will admit that I found a great saying about that hanging on a plaque in an Ace hardware store a few years back. It said, “There are two reasons why people are in your life-- to be a blessin’, or to be a lesson.” That saying made me laugh, but it once again makes a point about perspective, as well as about learning how to deal with challenges in our lives that can seem to make no sense. I do think we comfort ourselves or allow ourselves to move on in life by making meaning wherever we have an experience that puzzles or frightens us. But the experience of the Transfiguration IS given to us as both a blessing and a lesson. Taking it seriously invites us to open our minds to the understanding that whatever we think of Jesus as the Son of God, he, and God, are far greater than whatever understanding we have.

In today’s gospel reading, we see one of the most astounding perception-shifting passages in the Bible, and that is saying something. Jesus has been hinting to the disciples that he is more than what he seems to be, but they don’t get it. And let’s be fair—why should they? There certainly hasn’t been anyone like Jesus before.

The last few weeks, we’ve been hearing Jesus trying to encourage us to shift our perceptions with his parables. He’s been telling us outrageous stories that were deliberately exaggerated and extravagant in describing the abundant, profligate generosity, mercy, and grace of God. To remind us that no matter how amazing we think God is, God is far beyond what our imaginations can conceive.

Now we flip to this account from Luke, and we are shown an unaccountable, fantastic event that tears at the fabric of our understanding of reality. What if WE are also being invited to have our perception transfigured, so that we can live our most fulfilled, most amazed lives by perceiving the glory of God in our midst? 

Have you ever had such an experience? Felt just a brush of God's glory spread over you and make you feel fully alive?

That is exactly what God’s presence in our lives does. God approaches us over and over to pull our perception up out of the puny horizons of our meager striving to see that there is something greater on just beyond the horizon of our limited sight. What if we allowed ourselves to be right alongside Jesus’s friends and be blown away by the wonders of God’s presence in our lives all around us, instead of simply trying to engage in a transaction with God to save our souls but otherwise leave us alone to do as we please?

Their perception of Jesus shifts, and suddenly they see him more for who he really is, both human AND divine, the very things we drone through about believing, without thinking too much about it, every week in the Nicene Creed. Sounds simple when you say it, but it is obvious from a careful listening to the gospel that the Christians of Matthew’s time were still struggling to figure out who exactly Jesus is, just as we also are all these hundreds of years later. Listen to how raw and fragmented the parts of the story are, and how little explanation there is. They thought they knew Jesus, as frustrating as his speaking in parables and answering questions with questions could be. But here in the Transfiguration we are reminded that he is far more.

Just like with Moses, if we are really confronted with even a glancing blow of encounter with God’s glory, it overwhelms us. So we allow—and even seek out-- a veil to be placed between the true fabric of reality in God’s universe, and our everyday existence. But in doing so, we also make it easier to ignore the everyday wonders of God’s presence in our lives. We end up being comfortable—but also blind.

It doesn’t help that the story depicts Jesus as changing. It’s important to realize that Jesus was-- and is-- as he appeared at that moment all along. Only the veil between his two natures was more forcefully pulled aside at that moment. Rather than saying that Jesus has changed, it’s more precise to say that the perception of Jesus is changed by this experience on the mountain. The perception we have of Jesus as a wisdom teacher and faith-healers is expanded by this glimpse into his true nature as the Son of God. And Peter’s there to see it all—kind of showing him what is really meant by his proclamation of Jesus as the Messiah. The glory of God that exists on the other side of the veil is real.

In the 60s and 70s, there was a lot of effort made by certain theologians to try to discover what they called “the historical Jesus,” and by that they meant they one whose presence could be verified by actual documentary evidence. Of course, what happened as this quest progressed was a stripping away of all of the things that would have made Jesus anything other than a first century Jewish peasant, and often people weren’t left with very much to actually believe in about Jesus. That’s why it is good to remind ourselves that we are engaged not in a scientific experiment, but in a quest of faith throughout our lives—not that there is anything wrong with scientific experiments mind you, because I am a BIG fan of science. Don’t misunderstand me. But science and faith sometimes do not ask the same questions. Science asks “what?” and “how?” But faith asks “what does it mean?” and “how do we live faithfully?” and “what is good?”

So what does the Transfiguration mean? What the disciples saw in this experience will never be fully captured in words or descriptions, or explained by science, probably. But one thing that is implied by this story is that Jesus is not merely a human being, limited to a human lifespan, but he is the fulfilling of the law and the prophets—that’s what is suggested by the appearance of Moses, the law-giver, and Elijah, the greatest of prophets. Jesus is the Christ, not just a dust-covered Jewish peasant and prophet.

The Transfiguration is not just the story of a magic trick. And I believe it is NOT a parable. I believe it actually occurred so to remind us of the amazing reality of God’s presence and glory all around us—even in a blade of grass or a drop of water—or the real love that God has for each and every one of us, puny as we are. And that can be overwhelming. We need tiny doses of that sort of thing at a time. That’s why, at the end of the story, Jesus does that most human thing of all to bring his friends back from their amazement—he touches them with his hand, reminding them that he is ALSO still their pastor and friend. And so he does for us today. 

Open your eyes to see beyond the veil, unafraid, for the same Christ who dazzles with God’s glory is the same Christ who loves us.

Amen.


Preached at the 505 on August 5 and the 10:30 Principal Holy Eucharist at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville.


Readings:
Exodus 34:29-35
2 Peter 1:13-21
Psalm 99 or 99:5-9
Luke 9:28-36

Prayer 3292: For the Feast of Candlemas

(Feast of the Presentation of Jesus- Luke 2:22-40)

Most Blessed Savior,
may we praise you in the temple and in the streets,
extolling your many blessings boldly
and witnessing to your abiding loving-kindness
in all we do and say this day.

Make us strong in your wisdom, O God;
let us grow in heart and mind,
sinking deep roots
into the verdant ground of your commandments
loving You and our neighbors
as You love us.
May our own countenance
shine forth with the Light of God's Wisdom,
and with the radiance of your Incarnate Word.

At eventide, let us depart in peace,
having served you humbly, atiently, and with charity,
having looked with eyes of love upon the world,
and knowing that we have seen the Savior
in each face we have encountered.

Keep us all this good day,
and bring us to our rest in safety and assurance,
and pour out your blessing
on those for whom we pray.

Amen.

Prayer, day 2613: The Feast of the Annunciation

Almighty God, we sing your glory,
joining the joyful song of creation
as our souls sing out your greatness!
How beautiful upon the treetops
is the rising light of morning:
O God, you bless us beyond measure with beauty
and our hearts kneel before you in praise!

Give us your favor, O Redeemer,
in leading us to consent to your will in our lives,
that we may join our hands in unity
in the pursuit of justice and peace,
pulling down oppression from its throne,
filling the hungry with good things from the bounty we have.

Strengthen us to bear you into the world, Blessed Jesus,
as a mother carries her child
close to her heart.

Holy One, place the protection
of your mighty arm and heart
over us this day,
and guide us in paths of gentleness and compassion.
Stretch out the awning of your mercy, Beloved Savior,
over all who rest in your care.

Amen.

Named and Claimed: Sermon for the Baptism of the Lord

Way back the second week of Advent, we heard the story of the inauguration of John the Baptist’s ministry as depicted in Matthew 3:1-12. We now pick up that thread again with the story of Jesus approaching John in order to be baptized. 

And it’s always been a somewhat confusing story to me personally. If John is preaching a baptism of repentance, and Jesus is without sin, as scripture repeatedly insists, why does Jesus go to John to be baptized? It’s a question that has always bothered me, too, especially in the traditions in which I grew up, where baptism was emphasized particularly, just as John did, as a means to wash away our sins as its primary function. 

As I was remembering my confusion, I was reminded of  one of my favorite scenes in the movie O Brother, Where Art Thou involves the three main characters, escaped convicts, stumbling across a mass baptism in a country river in 1930s Mississippi. While the leader remains skeptical, one of their number, named Delmar, seizes the chance to be baptized whole-heartedly, and joyfully declares all his sins to have been washed away. For a little while, at least, Delmar embraces this new beginning, this fresh start in his life. 

Now, most people don’t just stumble upon a chance to be baptized, and in our tradition it is far more common to baptize infants based on their parents’ wishes rather than waiting until the children themselves can make a choice. It had to take some kind of resolve, though, to go out into the wilderness around the Jordan river and seek out that crazy visionary and preacher named John. John, whose smelly, hairy clothes was meant to remind everyone of Elijah. John, who ate what we call grasshoppers and honey straight from the comb—food you could forage. Messy food. I picture John with sticky hands and unimaginable stuff stuck between his teeth, smelling like a camel.

His personal approach wasn’t designed to make friends and influence people, either. No, John’s preaching was of the “In Your Face” variety, warning his listeners of wrath approaching like a hot desert wind. And apparently dozens of people were willing to allow this wild man to lead them out into the shallows. Imagine allowing this character to grasp you and urge you backward into the meandering, muddy water—living water, they call it—to push you under and then pop you to the surface like a cork, never to be the same again. 

But then suddenly, along comes Jesus, and where John had previously been all full of fire and brimstone, rebuking people and calling them names, now he becomes hesitant. Reluctant. John has to be talked into doing what he has done a thousand times. Why? It’s clear that Jesus’s baptism differs for the stories of the other baptisms that John performed. All discussion about repentance ceases, to be replaced with disagreements about worthiness and obedience. John, faced with Jesus, suddenly is on shaky ground, ground that he no longer commands. 

 “I shouldn’t be baptizing you,” John insists. "You should be baptizing me.” 

Yet Jesus persists. “Let it be so now,” Jesus insists, and John relents. Yet John’s scandalized comments and initial reluctance in our gospel story reinforces that John is no longer in charge but subordinate to Jesus’s wishes. And as the story was told down through the centuries, there was the embarrassment and the ambivalence that some in the early church felt about Jesus being baptized in the first place, especially by John. After all, Jesus undergoing baptism created the appearance that Jesus was John’s disciple, rather than the other way around.

But from this point onward, Jesus will be waxing fuller even as John recedes by the end of this story, and spends a long sojourn offstage. That’s why Matthew inserts the conversation between baptizer and Savior, for reinforcement that Jesus is not John’s disciple. Jesus’s debate and insistence to John there on the banks of the Jordan implies that he is a fully grown man, yet we haven’t heard a peep out of him up until now. And notice how he’s changed! Instead of being a baby, he is now an adult- and here John recognizes him as his superior in every way. 

In his insistence with John, Jesus declares that his baptism has been ordained by God’s will—the term for that is translated as a righteousness. Now “righteousness” is a word that too often gets the word “self-“ attached to the front of it, but this righteousness is not about. In this case, “righteousness” refers to being a combination of God’s gift and human action. This righteousness is not an ephemeral ideal, but born out of actions that are faithful to commitments and relationships. 

The great Biblical scholar Stanley Hauerwas refers to Jesus’s baptism in grander terms—as his coronation (1). Kings were anointed with oil before the people—and Jesus will be anointed, named, and claimed by the waters of baptism and by the Holy Spirit. 

Jesus’s baptism makes good the declaration we hear last week of Jesus as being a king—note that it’s the second epiphany or revelation of Jesus’s God-sent role in just two weeks’ time. On the heels of Jesus being paid homage by the Magi as a holy child as well as being the King of the Jews, in this story we hear God’s own voice proclaim this truth, and we see God’s Spirit descend upon Jesus, marking him out as exceptional and as the fulfillment of all the prophecies about God’s Messiah or anointed one, referred to as “Son,” such as the one we heard today in Isaiah 42. 

The “Son of God” language also had vital political significance. The Romans referred to the Emperor as being the son of God. Jesus’s claim to be the son of God thereby is a direct challenge to the power and sovereignty of Rome over the holy land, and is therefore fraught with peril. Claiming the name “Son of God” foreshadows the obvious clash not just between Jesus and the religious authorities, who played a dangerous game of collaboration with the occupying power, but with Rome itself, and reminds us that Jesus was executed by Rome using Roman methods for potentially stirring up the people against submission to Rome—obviously a crime against Rome. 

Whereas last week we talked about Jesus being a challenge to the power, claims, and privilege of Herod, this reading begins to demonstrate the ways that Jesus’s kingdom would threaten Rome itself. And even today, Jesus kingdom begins among the marginalized, among the helpless—and as his disciples we are called to stand there too .(2)

The baptism of Jesus is a turning point, and it indicates the inauguration of Jesus’s public ministry. Jesus would be a king unlike any other—so much so that even John would later have his doubts. This kind of king, baptized on the margins, would remain with those who are marginalized, even today.

But on a more personal level, the story of Jesus’s baptism reminds us again that Jesus stands alongside us, just as we stand alongside him in those waters, and we too, through baptism, hear God’s powerful, loving voice proclaim us God’s beloved, precious children, in whom God is well pleased. Through the story of the baptism of Jesus we hear today, we hear a story of being named and claimed by God. In fulfilling commands of God’s righteousness, Jesus acts and the same with the king does in Psalm 72, reflecting God’s righteousness by his own actions. This therefore reinforces the idea Jesus as God’s Messiah, the empowered agent to save all of mankind, liberating all of us from tyranny, exile, and oppression. 

Just like on Christmas night, at Jesus’s baptism the heavens are torn open, and God reveals God’s unity with Jesus through a declaration and a naming of Jesus very specifically. Then Jesus receives some life-altering names. And they are the kind of names that so many of us long for. The first name declares Jesus as God’s own son, which echoes claims made in Psalm 2, as well as directing our attention back to our reading from Isaiah 42. The second name is “the Beloved.” And through Jesus, we get to claim those names for ourselves as well.

No, Jesus didn’t go down into those waters for repentance. Jesus did go down into those waters so that WE could remember how important it is for us to seek to repent and the renew our commitment to walking with Jesus in the Way of Love. In seeking baptism, Jesus models for us the obedience of discipleship. In going down into the same waters to which we are all drawn in baptism, Jesus leads the way. Not just leading the way, actually, but standing alongside us in solidarity with us.

Now, it’s true that most of us do not remember our own baptism. But it’s important to note that we begin to live into this truth: Baptism formalizes a relationship with God in which God too, declares us God’s children. In which God too names us as beloved and precious. In which God too declares God’s delight with us. Several times a year we repeat the baptismal covenant, and in doing so, we recommit ourselves to that ongoing relationship with God, and I hope and pray that each time we do that together, that we all take seriously the renewal and conversion to which we are called in our baptism.

But I also hope that you remember that those waters anointed you, each of you, as God’s precious child. As Beloved. As someone in whom God takes great delight in. In the waters of baptism, all hurtful names that have been attached to us are also washed away, and instead, we are reminded of our worth and our preciousness in the sight of God. I am convinced this is a message the world is desperate for, a message that offers regeneration and renewal for those who are willing to believe that God loves us that much.

There’s a beautiful saying I have been contemplating this week—I don’t know where it comes from. It goes like this:

Jesus’s baptism allowed Jesus to lead the way for us into being brave enough to embrace the hope of healing and redemption, not just for ourselves, but for the whole world. And as we contemplate our own baptism in the action of Jesus, may we realize that God looks at us with delight, taking joy in the fact that God created us from the very dust that composes the stars themselves, knowing how much the universe needs the love and the gifts that each of us, individually and as a community can offer.

What could we do in the world in the name of God our Creator, if we acted from the sure and certain knowledge that God has claimed us and named us as Beloved, precious children? Let’s try to find out. 

Join me, if you will, in prayer.

Lord, our spirits are drawn toward you,
and we are rise with the sun
to rejoice at your precious love and faithfulness.

We are dust,
beloved dust,
dust shaped and formed by the Holy One:
may we bless and love the Earth,
our womb and our home.

We have sinned, yet are made for love:
let us repent and embrace healing,
turning toward life and integrity.

Help us to live in holiness and hope,
with justice and joy,
bound to each other in affection.

Let us shine with your glory and truth,
Blessed and Beloved One,
bearing the banner of love and unity.

Holy One, we lay before you our cares and concerns,
and ask your peace for all who seek You.

Amen.

Preached at the 8:00 and the 10:30 Eucharists on January 12, 2020 at St. Martin's Episcopal Church, Ellisville, MO.

Readings:
Isaiah 42:1-9
Psalm 29
Acts 10:34-43
Matthew 3:13-17


Citations and Sources:
(1) Stanley Hauerwas, Matthew (Brazos Theological Commentary on the Bible), pp. 47-48.

(2) Warren Carter, Matthew and the Margins: A Sociopolitical and Religious Reading (Bible and Liberation series), p. 103.

Prayer 1441: The Holy Name of Our Lord Jesus Christ

The Holy Family. Source unknown.

Holy God, 
Father of All Mercies, 
Mother of All Kindness, 
we give You thanks for the Holy Name of Jesus.

Teach us to live and love
under the banner of your Beloved Son,
working to restore creation
from the hurt we have inflicted on it.

Lead us into unity
as we face forward into the New Year,
and turn to You, Lord Christ,
as our exemplar and guide.
Gather us
within the shelter of your arms
as we bear the name of Christ,
that we be holy and compassionate people.

Strengthen us in prayer and praise,
and receive our intercessions
which we lay before You
in hope and love. 

Amen.

Prayer 1331- Holy Cross Day; Feast of Deaconess Anne Pew

Osage Monastery Forest of Peace, Sand Springs, Oklahoma.

Holy God, the light rises in the East, and we kneel before the glorious cross of your Son our Savior Jesus Christ. 

Let us attend with joy your call to repentance and renewal, that your grace be a balm poured over our hearts. 
Let us look upon the One who laid down his life for us in order that we might live and love with abundance. 

When day is ended, let the story this day tells be one of gentleness, compassion, and care for all of your glorious creation. 
Let us walk in the footsteps of Jesus, living a life of healing, justice for the poor and outcast, and sacrifice for others. 
Let us live each moment having loved God and each other with all that we are and ever hope to be. 

 Embodying Christ's hands, heart, and feet in the world, we remember also these your beloveds, and ask your blessing, O Holy One.

Amen.

Prayer 1292- Feast of the Transfiguration of Our Lord

Surprise lilies, Missouri Botanical Garden.

Blessed be the Name of the Lord, who lifts us up and places us upon the solid rock: let us give thanks to God! 

Enter into the inmost center of our being, O Holy One, and anoint us with your Spirit, that we may cling to your love. 
Let us make our home in the embrace of God, who abides with us and guards all our ways. 
May we be filled with the light of Christ, and may it pour forth from our hearts to illumine our path, and guide us home. 
May we be transformed and radiate the love of Christ into a world famished for hope and peace. 

Beloved Savior, envelop us within your care, and place your blessing upon those we now name.

Amen.

Prayer 793- Feast of the Annunciation

On the Feast of the Annunciation
O Holy One, may we stand before your courts, and hear and obey your call of love and faithfulness. 

May we open our hearts to welcome the good news from your prophets and messengers, O God, who sing out your salvation. May we hear your call and respond as your humble servants, eager to serve You and each other. 

Make us vessels in whom your truth overflows, for your love so great that we cannot contain it. Send us forth to do your will, to build and heal and comfort in the Name of the Lord. Press upon us the seal of your Spirit, and commission us to serve You with all our hearts. 

Draw us within your courts, O Almighty, and place your blessing upon those we now name.

Amen.