Saturday, February 21, 2015

Sermon from Sunday, February 15, 2015


Scripture:  Mark 9:2-9
 
Does anyone today see the glory of God as the three disciples did – when they followed Jesus up a mountain and saw him radiant with heavenly light, shining with the wisdom of the Law and the prophets – and where a voice from heaven overwhelmed and silenced their stuttering attempt at worship with the command to listen and to follow his way to Jerusalem, to a confrontation with the powers of the day, and to the cross? 

Does anyone today see the glory of God as Moses did – when in the wilderness on the way to the promised land he alone dared to go up Mt Sinai into the cloud and the fire, to be in the presence of God, where his own face took on a heavenly shining that the people could not bear to look at, and where he was given the Ten Commandments to give to the people gathered below to guide them and help then live as God’s people against the ways of other people and other gods around them? 

Does anyone today see the glory of God in that way, and with that effect? 

A month ago much of the world joined the States in observing Martin Luther King, Jr. Day to celebrate a man who followed a call of Christ to confront the powers and the mindset of our day, and a call of God to come up to a mountain to see what he needed to see to guide his people rightly.  In a speech in Memphis on April 3, 1968, he said: 

I don't know what will happen now. We've got some difficult days
ahead. But it really doesn't matter with me now, because I've been
to the mountaintop.
And I don't mind. 

Like anybody, I would like to live a long life.  Longevity has its place. 
But I'm not concerned about that now.  I just want to do God's will. 
And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain.   

And I've looked over.  And I've seen the Promised Land.  
I may not get there with you.  But I want you to know tonight,
that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!  

And so I'm happy, tonight.
I'm not worried about anything.
I'm not fearing any man!
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!! 

The next day he was shot and killed.  But as he said, he just wanted to do God’s will, and he knew God’s will for himself and his people in our time because many times in his life he was up on that mountain witnessing the glory of God and God’s good will, being given what was needed to guide the people who waited down below. 

I don’t think I want to see the glory of God as he did.  It’s pretty costly and once you’ve seen it can you ever turn back?  Maybe there’s a reason why God invited only Moses to go up into the cloud and fire of Mt Sinai, and why Jesus took only three of his disciples up the mountain with him. 

I like my epiphanies and theophanies more tame.   The glory of God in a sunset or sunrise is something I can handle, and brings me deep peace and reassurance.  The light of God in a child’s or a partner’s or a friend’s face is warm and inviting; it helps me embrace and be embraced by the goodness of life.  The beauty of God in an iris or a monarch butterfly or a flock of geese flying overhead moves me to praise and wonder, and to a freshened commitment to care for the Earth God has called into such wonderful being.  For me, the truth of God in communion and in heartfelt worship is close enough to heaven for now. 

And maybe for most of us, that’s enough – maybe all we can handle of the fullness of God’s glory without being totally overwhelmed and undone.  And at the same time, maybe also all that we need to stay on track, open enough to God and God’s way to be freed enough from the allure of lesser, more selfish ways of living. 

The people of Israel received two things from Moses’ time on the mountaintop: a glimpse of how scary it can be to be face-to-face with God, and the Ten Commandments as a reasonable and realistic way of living in right relation as the people of this awesome God.  And what the other disciples of Jesus received from the three who went up with him was a second-hand account of the encounter, told to them after his death and resurrection, to help them through that rough time and be open to whatever slighter and more manageable epiphanies God might have for them along the way. 

And maybe that’s one of the purposes of an amazing story like this – to help us be open to the smaller, maybe less amazing, but no less holy epiphanies that are part of all our lives, that help strengthen us for the challenge of faithful witness and holy living against the powers and mindset of our day. 

Early this week I was in the car in the parking lot of a bank in Dundas, waiting while Japhia was doing some business inside.  On the radio I heard a story about Mister Rogers explaining how he could remain so hopeful and gentle in the world as it is, and honestly talk so often about it being a good day in the neighbourhood.  He said, “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’ ”  

At that point the announcer led into a song called “Good Souls” by Starsailor.  And I was led into an overwhelming awareness and understanding that yes, that is the kingdom of God – the reign of God on Earth, in and through the helpers on the edge of every bad thing that happens.  Almost immediately I was then led to the searing and humbling memory (how can any real epiphany not be humbling?) of three specific times in my life when I failed – when I did not have the courage, or maybe the love or the faith, to take the risk of being a helper to someone in a time of sudden crisis.  And after that, all I felt was a simple prayer of confession (and how awareness of God's reign not involve confession?), asking for help in growing into a new way of being. 

The details and the specific content and direction of that moment are mine.  But I don’t know – was it an epiphany, different in scale but not in meaning to the mountain-top epiphanies and theophanies of God’s special servants?   

Are visions and glimpses like these of God’s reign on Earth part of all our lives?   

And if so, how do we remain open to both the reassurance and the challenge, both the comfort and the call they bring to us?

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