Glory in Ordinary Guise (Sunday, Feb 27, 2022)

 Scripture Reading: Luke 9:28-36 

Jesus and his disciples have been together for some time all around the province of Galilee – teaching, preaching, healing, and helping people actually experience the kind of communion and inclusive, forgiving, mutually accepting community that God’s kingdom is.  Jesus has even started sending out the disciples to do this themselves in different villages.  Things are going really well, until Jesus throws a monkey wrench into their visions with the news that soon he and they will be going to Jerusalem, where he will be taken from them and put to death. 

About eight days after Jesus said this, he took Peter, John and James with him up onto a mountain to pray.  As he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning.  Two men – Moses and Elijah, appeared in glorious splendour, talking with him.  They spoke about his coming departure in Jerusalem. 

Peter and the other two were very sleepy, but they became fully awake and saw his glory and of the two men with him.  As the men were leaving Jesus, Peter said, “Master, it’s good for us to be here.  Let us put up three shrines – for you, for Moses and for Elijah.”  It’s all he could think of saying.

As he spoke, a cloud appeared and enveloped them, and they were very afraid.  A voice said from the cloud, “This is my Son, whom I have chosen; listen to him.”   

 When the voice had spoken, they found that Jesus was alone.  The disciples kept all this to themselves, and told no one at that time – not until later, what they had seen. 

Meditation 

I’m old enough to remember when you could tell the good guys by what they wore – by how they were attired.  They wore their glory on their sleeve – or their head.  The hero – the one who would make everything alright, was the one in the white hat.  He might even have white-handled six-shooters in his holsters.  He probably rode a white horse.  And if he also wore a mask, said “Hi ho!  Silver!” and made his horse rear up before he rode away after vanquishing the bad guys, and left a silver bullet, you knew you’d just been saved and the world was made good again by The Lone Ranger.

After 9-11 we saw the emergence of a new uniform for heroes – the distinctive hat and heavy coats and boots of firemen like the ones who risked – and some who lost their lives to save others in the Twin Towers.  Or the uniforms and badges of police officers, and the distinctive dress and gear of paramedics and other first responders who went in where most would not, to help others get out.  When the world is tumbling and crumbling around us, we like to be able to identify the ones who will save us.

Through COVID it’s changed a bit.  Now we suddenly are aware of how many front-line workers there really are, that we depend on for the world to be as safe and good as it can be, and as we need it.  Front-line medical staff – nurses and doctors, other specialists and even hospital caretakers and cleaning staff.  Grocery store staff and pharmicists and pharmacy staff risking exposure to the virus and all its variants with every up-close encounter they have in the course of their shift.  Teachers.  Garbage collectors.  Truck drivers.  LCBO staff.  Who knows who else we depend on to keep the world turning in the direction we need. 

Suddenly there’s no single uniform to look for.  Anyone we look at might be a hero.  There’s no uniform, and no distinctive badge anymore for those who help keep the world safe, who risk their own well-being for the well-being of others, who put their own rights and their own comfort aside for the sake of others safety and survival.

Jesus had no uniform either, to show others who he was and what he meant to the life of the world. 

By the reaction of his three closest companions to the revelation on the mountainside of God’s glory shining upon him and alive within him – their total astonishment and near-speechlessness, I think it’s probably safe to say that Jesus up to that point was not wearing any halo.  There was no aura about him.  No distinctive clothing.  He didn’t walk around in especially clean or freshly pressed clothes.  Or fancier sandals than the rest.  People would have had no idea just who he really was just by looking at him. 

It was what he did and how he did it, that drew people to him.  That let them know there was something distinctive at work in him and through him.  That made them feel like they were in the presence of something holy and good at work in the world, when they were near him.  When he was speaking to them.  When he was touching them and having an impact on their life in some way.

And it was up on the mountainside that the three – Peter, James and John, were let in on the secret.  That it was actually the glory of God, the actual light and love of God that was at work in him and through him.  That was shining out from him day after day and in encounter after encounter in little bits and glimpses and flashes.

And what was that glory?  What was it really, when you saw it full-on and whole?  Glory for the sake of its own glory – a kind of shock and awe amazement?  Blinding light for the sake of its blindingness to bring others to the point if submission and dependence?  Or was it something other?

On one hand it was Moses – the hero of God and God’s people who stood up to pharaoh and empire and the power that seeks its own good by ruling over and dominating others.  The hero who gave his life to leading the people out and brought to them a vision and a Law of God of another way of being and another way of living of humility before God and the equal well-being of all.  A way radically different from the way of empire.

And on the other hand was Elijah – the hero of God and God’s people whose glory was the way he confronted and defeated the people’s worship of Baal, the ultimate prosperity god of self-centred wealth, the ancient and timeless god of self-centred success and greedy materialism that divides society into haves and have-nots, into people of privilege and everyone else.  The prophet who risked and ultimately gave his life to help the people regain their vision of, their faith in, and their commitment to a God of justice, equality, and the service of neighbour and stranger and the poor ones around you, before self.

That was the glory that they saw in and all around Jesus on the mountainside.  That was the fulfilment of the Law and the Prophets that they saw shining on him and around him.  And that, they saw then, was what had been shining through his words and his actions all along down in the valley.  In his teaching and preaching about God’s kingdom.  In his healing of those who needed it, that cost him something each time and also often pout him at odds with those in power.  And in the kind of community he was creating – inviting all kinds of people, especially those unwanted by others, to gather around a table to experience God’s kingdom together in a meal, in conversation, in forgiveness, in mutual acceptance and growth.

If they hadn’t known before – hadn’t been able to quite put their finger on what it was that drew people to Jesus, now they knew.  Their eyes were opened.  And as they came down the mountainside the next day to pick up where they had left off, with the people still waiting with their confusing mess of needs and problems, and the journey to the cross of self-sacrifice still calling, they could not but look at Jesus with clearer and deeper eyes.  To see still no halo, no uniform or badge, no specially flashy clothing.  But a particular Spirit and a particular way of giving himself, giving up his own rights and comfort for the well-being of others, that is the real glory of God in the world.

And I wonder, as he and his disciples came back down into the world as it is, did his disciples also see themselves more clearly, through different eyes as well.  They had no halo either.  They had no distinctive dress.  No aura about them.  Nothing special to set them apart from others, other than their knowledge now of the Law and the Prophets of God really being at work in the world around then.  Their awareness of the light of God having shone upon them.  Their experience of amazing communion with God through their relationship with Jesus.

So how could they not see that they too could be, and were also vessels of the real glory of God?  That they too in ways big and small, were equipped and called and enabled by God to be embodiments of God’s self-giving love and light for others, as they listened to and followed the way of Jesus.

I think of a woman named Lori, a PSW who was one of Japhia’s palliative care-givers last fall.  Japhia had three different PSW’s on 5 different days of the week, and the other two who came in, did what was needed in 10 or 15 minutes, and then were on their way.  “Hi ho, Silver!  Away!”  Lori, though – thankfully usually there for 3 of the 5 days, stayed the whole hour that was allowed.  She did what was needed in 10 or 15 minutes, and then she made tea for Japhia and herself, and the two of them chatted in the living room, sharing themselves and their lives with one another for the rest of the hour.  They became really good and fast friends, and there was something about those hours they spent together that was holy, life-giving, saving, and healing even in the face of dying.

I’ve learned about a cousin in Winnipeg who only just before Christmas was diagnosed with a recurrence of a cancer, and now is already receiving palliative care at home.  Her husband is blogging daily about their journey and how the days go.  The progress of the disease and her decline in strength seems fast, but the daily news is full of gratitude for the close and constant support and presence of family, neighbours, other friends and members of their church.  It’s not easy to spend time that freely and that often with someone that sick, who makes you face unanswerable questions of life and death, and whose problems you can’t solve and that make you face and embrace your own powerlessness.  It’s not surprising that Ron and his wife, Judy see daily signs of God’s love and care, see God’s glory in and through others around them, and truly feel blessed and loved and carried by God in this difficult time. 

You never know who the heroes may be.  They don’t come with a uniform anymore.  They come with a particular Spirit at work within them.

And sometimes you don’t know who the heroic gesture, or the godly act may be for.  Whose life it will impact.

There was a church up in Paisley in Bruce County that one Christmas Eve wasn’t sure what to do.  The service was all set and ready to go.  Except it was snowing heavily, coming in hour after hour on strong winds from over Lake Huron.  It wasn’t safe to be out.  But there was also no way of letting everyone who might try to get to the service know it was cancelled – anyone who that year just really needed the music and the message and the meaning of Christmas Eve, who really needed the coming of God and the embodiment of God’s love in the world around them.

So, the music director and minister, both of whom lived in town near the church, decided together to venture into the storm and go over to the church to shovel the sidewalk – at least near the doors, as best they could.  Then they scoured the church for all the candles they could find, put them in the windows of the church, and lit them.  And then they waited there, to receive and welcome and share coffee and hot chocolate and some songs and the story of God’s love embodied in human life, with those – and there were some, who arrived.

I wonder, in the confusion, the messiness, the constant needs of the world around us – around you, how are the real glory of God and the love of God for others embodied in you, and acted out by you?

There’s no halo.  No aura.  No uniform nor badge.  Just a living openness to a particular holy Spirit of at work within you, for the well-being of others.

Loving in a dangerous time (when else?) -- Sunday, February 20, 2022

Reading: Luke 6:27-38

Jesus has become well-known throughout the province of Judea and beyond, as a teacher of God’s kingdom and a healer of God’s people.  His actions and words have stirred the hope that God is starting to set the world right, by raising up and strengthening the people of God as a guiding light for all others.  Having attracted the attention of a large crowd, he begins what we call “The Sermon on the Plain,” in which he describes the kind of life God calls and enables people to live, to be a light to all the world.

 

“To you who are listening I say: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.  If someone slaps you on one cheek, turn to them the other also. If someone takes your coat, do not withhold your shirt from them. Give to everyone who asks you, and if anyone takes what belongs to you, do not demand it back. Do to others as you would have them do to you.

  

“If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners love those who love them. And if you do good to those who are good to you, what credit is that to you? Even sinners do that. And if you lend to those from whom you expect repayment, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, expecting to be repaid in full.

  

“But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back. Then your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High, because God is kind to the ungrateful and wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.
 

“Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned.  Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you.”

  

Meditation

“Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, and do not judge.”

I think I have to agree with Trish Stefanik at the Overlook Retreat House of the Dayspring Community in Maryland, who writes: “My first read of the gospel this week had my stomach in knots.  To those who are listening, Jesus is saying … to include in our circle of prayer and kindness and generosity those people especially whom we consider undeserving.  We are to have an open heart for those whose attitudes and behaviour we despise or who despise us.  We are to love and do good and give and lend with no expectation of anything in return.  Sometimes it feels like Jesus is asking too much from my little human head and heart…”

It’s been more than I’ve been able to do well.  Often, needing to defend and stand up for myself, and not knowing or having learned how to set boundaries in a good way or how to confront others in a constructive way, I’ve let hurt over some slight or personal injury just sit there and then over time harden into grievance and resentment until it becomes wall and a barrier to helpful relationship.   

Or maybe you've seen some of the Facebook posts I share sometimes.  The really judgemental ones, that as soon as I have posted it, or someone replies asking how I could share something so critically and harshly judgemental -- I have to ask myself, too: how could I, why did I do that?

Or out of love and care for someone else, at times I’ve taken up the fight against others on their behalf for some harm suffered, haven’t known when to stop, and in the process have turned potential friends and family into enemies,  In ways that are hard to undo.

And it’s not like we don’t have enough enemies without making more.  Today in our social-media-driven tribalism with each tribe fearfully seeking power to exert its will, it seems the enemy is anyone who disagrees with you, who holds to different values, listens to different voices, is simply “the other.”

This week on a CBC Radio phone-in show people were asked how “the Freedom Convoy” has affected relationships.  Caller after caller said it has been the final straw that’s broken the back of two years of increasingly strained COVID conversation with some family and friends.  The convoy has pushed it to a new, unmanageable level and they’re just “done.”  They no longer have interest or energy to keep trying to talk with one another.  And it’s not that they “agree to disagree.”  What they agree to is to walk away and have nothing to do with one another.

 

Love your enemies?  Do good to those who hate you, or whose position you hate?  And judge not?

We’re tempted to think it’s just not possible.  That it’s too much for us. 

But we know it can be done, even in the most critical life-threatening situations.  Just think of what we’ve seen and known in our own time.

For decades now in the midst of conflict in the Middle East, there has been an ongoing movement of low-level, organized, sustained conversations between Palestinian and Israeli households.  A continuing seires of up-close and personal occasions of getting to know one another aside from political posturing and positions, and of learning to understand the other more simply as fellow human beings.

In South Africa, all the world was amazed and instructed by their experience of truth-telling and reconciliation after decades of violent, evil apartheid.  It didn’t solve everything; nothing ever does.  But it was a ray of bright light that helped them see one another and themselves in new ways, and the rest of the world is still trying to learn it.

We all also know stories of deep, transformative forgiveness – like that of Wilma Derksen, a woman in Winnipeg whose teenage daughter over forty years ago was abducted, sexually assaulted and murdered.  Because of what her Mennonite faith taught her, she chose right from the start to walk a path of forgiveness whatever that meant, and has spent the last forty years learning and growing her way into it.

We know about First Nations’ healing circles, and the way of restorative rather than retributive justice, for the restoration of relationship and the healing of community for all after harm has been done.

So, we know it can be done.  Human beings are capable of this.

Not that it’s easy.  It wasn’t easy for Jesus.  There was probably good reason he went on retreat as often as he did for solitary prayer with God, to be renewed and restored in the right direction.  And we know where it led him in the end.  Lent and the journey to Good Friday begin in a few weeks.

But he knew this over and over again as the way of new and true life, of abiding joy and fulfilment.  It’s the way of God in the world, and the way of living in God in our own living that he wants us to know and be part of.

What is this way, though?  What does it look like, and not look like?  What does it demand of us, and not demand?

One thing Jesus does not demand is that we deny the reality and fact of enemies.  The reality and the fact of people in our own lives who are so hurtful or spiritually unhelpful to us, and who we have a hard time being with, that we need clear boundaries as well as help and support in maintaining them.  The reality and the fact of beliefs, actions, values, policies and patterns of behaviour that are wrong, that are hurtful and oppressive of others, and thsat in the economy of God must and will be dealt with.

But what Jesus talks about is us, like God, loving the enemy when the encounter is upon ypu and it is personal and up-close, and there is the opportunity to act beyond tribal identity and party line, to step beyond political power-seeking and fear of the other, and to be open to the other as a real person, and thereby open and accountable to God.

For instance, he says, when your master strikes you on the cheek – as masters do, slapping the face of a slave with the back of their right hand (as it was traditional at the time – a tried and true way of putting a slave in his or her place), hitting the right cheek of the slave in the process – after your master does that, Jesus says, offer your left cheek as well.  It will show him you can take it; it will also mean he will have to slap you with the palm of his right hand – something he would normally do only in a moment of anger or pique with an equal, not a slave.  In other words, you break through the distance between you and him, and invite him to relate to you as an equal.

And when a Roman soldier confronts you and makes you give him your outer garment – as Roman soldiers will do, give him your inner garment as well.  It will leave you naked and exposed, and it will make clear to him and all around just how wrong his action has been.  His own choice will be evidence against him of his way of relationship with you, others and God.  And he will be invited into a space of choosing what to do about that.

There’s no guarantee, of course, what will come of this.  Neither we nor God know whether the other will choose to remain an enemy or become a friend, stay a tribal member or be an authentic human being.  But with God and like God, we can act towards the other in such a way that they are invited to choose.

Thich Nhat Hanh, the great Vietnamese Buddhist teacher who died just a month ago at the age of 95, once wrote about four mantras that can help us to act this way, and to open a door for ourselves and others to move beyond fear and towards love. 

He says that in approaching an enemy – someone you are afraid of, and who is probably also afraid of you, the first mantra is “Dear one, I am here for you.”  In other words, I am showing up in person, as risky as that is, face to face and heart to heart, apart from my own tribal-identity and group-think, just to be here with you.

The second is “Dear one, I know you are there, and I am so happy.”  I know that somewhere beyond your place in the world, behind your tribe and your learned ideology, there is a real human being called you, and I am happy for this chance to meet you, and for both of us maybe to get to know you.

The third is “Dear one, I know you are suffering; that is why I am here for you.”  I do not agree with all you do, and demand, and act out.  But I know you have been hurt, you feel afraid, and I care about that.  That’s why I am here.

And the fourth – riskiest of all he says, is “Dear one, I am suffering, please help.”  I, too, have been hurt and am afraid of many things.  And I do not have all the answers, anymore than anyone else or even the person in front of you.  So, can you help with the real hurt and real fear that I feel?

Each of these four could take a sermon to unpack.  Together, they probably take more than a single lifetime to act out.

But I wonder, is this at all the way of loving an enemy that Jesus wants to teach us? 

Is this at all part of the pathway to heal the world by love one life at a time – beginning with our own, as God does?