Getting All the Way to Easter: The Vision and Grace of the Transfiguration

How are you getting to Easter this year?

Year A • The Last Sunday After Epiphany

Exodus 24:12-18 • Psalm 2 or 99 • 2 Peter 1:16-21 • Matthew 17:1-9

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Sermon available on YouTube by clicking here,

as an Audio File by clicking here,

and as a PDF by clicking here.

The Sermon

All of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, 

are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; 

for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit.

                                                                    — 2 Corinthians 3:18

Getting All the Way to Easter

Good Morning. I have a question for you: “How are you getting to Easter this year? How are you getting from here all the way to Easter?”

     Today is the Last Sunday of Epiphany. It is also known as Transfiguration Sunday because on this day, on this last Sunday before Lent, we are present with Jesus up on the Mount of Transfiguration. And we are looking across the valley that lies under the shadow of death, the valley in which we live our lives. And as we look south across this darkened landscape, in the distance we can see the glimmer of Easter, but only faintly because it’s largely hidden from view. Darkness looms in the distance, and a dark shape rises out of the shadows and obscures Easter. It’s very dark, but if we look closely, we can see the faint outlines of three cross-like structures against a sun-eclipsed horizon. That dark shape, of course, is Calvary, the place of the Skull, the place where our Lord gave up his life. Some people call it a hill, but it’s really a mountain. After all, mountains are places where heaven and earth meet, and heaven and earth certainly met on Calvary, long ago, on a dark Friday, we call Good.

     But again, I wonder, “How are we getting to Easter?” I pose this question because it is the same question that is confronting Jesus’ disciples in the events leading up to today’s Gospel reading.

The Lead Up to the Transfiguration

Today’s episode that takes place on the Mount of Transfiguration is situated along a fault line in the narrative of Matthew’s gospel. It is part of the turning point, for it is at this stage in the story that Jesus sets his face like flint toward Jerusalem. After today’s episode, Jesus will walk off the mountain of his glory and begin making his way down into the valley, the valley that will funnel him toward his death.

     But let’s step back and take in some of the events that lead up to today’s gospel reading. We are at the midpoint of Matthew’s gospel. Jesus is at the height of his popularity. His ministry of healing and teaching, of proclaiming the arrival of God’s kingdom in word and deed has generated quite a buzz. Jesus has fed crowds of 5000 and 4000. He has cured hundreds people, delivering them from all manner of trouble, sorrow, need, and sickness. He makes the deaf to hear, the mute to speak, the blind to see. He makes the lame to walk and the maimed whole (Matt 15:31).

     But all of this popularity has attracted the attention and sparked the suspicion of the powers that be. The Pharisees and Sadducees confront Jesus. They question him. They lay traps for him. So Jesus withdraws from public life for a time. Taking his closest followers with him, Jesus heads North. He leaves his familiar Jewish homeland behind and makes his way deep into Gentile territory.

     While there, Jesus interviews his disciples. He asks them, “People are talking about me? Who do they say I am?” The disciples reply, “Some say John the Baptist, some say Elijah, others say Jeremiah or one of the prophets.” The crowds are getting close, but they don’t quite have it yet. Jesus is a prophet, to be sure, but he is more than a prophet. Jesus turns the question on his disciples, “So who do you say that I am?” Without hesitation, Simon Peter—the spokesperson for the Twelve—stands up and announces, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God” (16:16). It’s a glorious moment. Peter and the disciples have finally recognized what we readers of the Gospel have known all along, that Jesus is the Lord’s Anointed, the very Son of God.

     But the moment is short-lived. As soon as his true identity becomes known, Jesus swears his disciples to secrecy. And from that point on, Jesus begins to talk openly about the fate that awaits him. He must go to Jerusalem and endure great suffering at the hands of the elders, the chief priests, and they scribes. He will be killed, and on the third day he will rise. But poor Peter is not having any of it. He takes Jesus aside and begins to rebuke him, “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you” (16:22). Peter’s rebuke earns him an even harsher rebuke in return. For in Peter’s words, Jesus hears the voice of the Evil One trying to discourage him, trying to divert him from his vocation. Jesus turns to Peter and says, “Get behind me, Satan! You are a stumbling block to me; for you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things” (16:23).

     Jesus then calls all of his disciples together, and begins to instruct them on the nature and cost of discipleship.

If any want to become my followers, he says, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it (Matt 16:24-25).

Servants are not greater than their masters. If the Son of God has a cross in his future, so do his disciples. No doubt, this all came as quite a shock. After all, Jesus has been doing all manner of wonderful and powerful things; God was clearly with him. So how is it that he will be rejected by God’s people and be killed? And, if this is his fate, how will his disciples follow him? How are they going to make it to Jerusalem and beyond? In short, how are they going to make it all the way to Easter?

The Transfiguration of the Disciples

That’s where today’s episode comes in. Six days after all of this talk about crosses and death, Jesus takes with him Peter, James, and John, and he leads them up on a high mountain, by themselves. There, they see Jesus transfigured before their very eyes. His face shines with the brightness of the sun, and his clothes become dazzling white. And, as if that were not enough, two ot celebrities suddenly appear out of the past: Moses, who represents the Law; and Elijah, who represents the Prophets. These two extraordinary figures share something in common. They both had encounters with Yahweh—the God of Israel—on the top of a mountain, and here they are again on a mountaintop speaking face-to-face with God in the person of his Son. The message is clear. Jesus of Nazareth is the One who fulfills all the Law and the Prophets.

     But the revelation of Jesus’ glory does not stop there. Suddenly, a bright cloud overshadows the disciples, and out of the cloud, they hear the voice of God: “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” This is the same voice that was heard at Jesus’ baptism, and it is speaking the same words. Except for that last bit; that last bit is new. Listen to him!... Listen to him!... Those words are meant for the disciples. In fact, the whole transfiguration of Jesus was for the sole benefit of the disciples. Just look at the pronouns that are used. Seriously, when you go home today, take a bulletin with you. Then, this afternoon, read through the transfiguration story, and highlight the third-person plural pronouns, the “theys” and the “thems.” This is a technique that we teach at my school; it’s called marking the text.

     When you do this, when you mark the text, you will see that what take place on the Mount of Transfiguration is directed at the disciples. For example, the text doesn’t just say, “Jesus was transfigured,” it says, “Jesus was transfigured before them.” Likewise, it doesn’t just say, “Suddenly there appeared Moses and Elijah,” but rather, “Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah.” And the episode continues in this vein, “a bright cloud overshadowed them,” “Jesus came and touched them,” “And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus.”

By the way, that is an assignment. Next week, I want to see some highlighted bulletins. You can place them in the offering plate. Just make sure your name is on it so that you can get full credit.

So what’s the significance of all of this? Why does it matter that the Transfiguration was put on solely for the benefit of Jesus’ disciples? And how exactly does it benefit them? Let me answer the first question first. When Jesus is transfigured before the disciples, it isn’t Jesus who is transfigured so much as it is the disciples who are transfigured. Jesus isn’t becoming the Son of God; he already is the Son of God. When he is transfigured on the mountain, Jesus is not becoming something that he wasn’t before; he is revealing himself to his disciples. As one author put it, “The transfigured Jesus is changed, not in essence, but in the way he is seen.” In other words, on the Mount of Transfiguration, it is the disciples’ vision that is being transfigured. Jesus’ disciples are being given the gift of sight, the gift of seeing Jesus in all his glory, the gift of seeing Jesus as he truly is.

     But why is that important? How does that benefit them in their discipleship? Because that is how the disciples are going to get to Easter, and that’s how we are going to get to Easter.

Getting All the Way to Easter

As we all know, Easter is the time when we celebrate the Resurrection of Jesus. But Easter is not only about Jesus’ resurrection, it is also about our resurrection. Easter is about our participation in the resurrected life of Jesus, our participation in his victory over death. Yet, there is no Easter without Calvary; no resurrection without death. And that’s the purpose of Lent. Lent is a journey to Easter, but a journey that necessarily takes us through the valley of deep shadows.

     But how can we make that journey? Where can we find the strength and courage to take up our cross and follow in the footsteps of our Master? If only we could see the light of Easter at the end of the tunnel, then we might be willing and able to make the journey. But Easter is hidden from view by Calvary; Calvary dominates the landscape, so much so that, as we get closer and closer to Easter, all we can see is the outline of our own cross coming into focus.

     On Ash Wednesday, we will hear these words from the Book of Common Prayer:

Dear People of God: The first Christians observed with great devotion the days of our Lord’s passion and resurrection, and it became the custom of the Church to prepare for them by a season of penitence and fasting. This season of Lent provided a time in which converts to the faith were prepared for Holy Baptism. It was also a time when those who, because of notorious sins, had been separated from the body of the faithful were reconciled by penitence and forgiveness, and restored to the fellowship of the Church. Thereby, the whole congregation was put in mind of the message of pardon and absolution set forth in the Gospel of our Savior, and of the need which all Christians continually have to renew their repentance and faith. I invite you, therefore, in the name of the Church, to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word (BCP 264–265).

Sin, self-examination, repentance, penitence—those are not exactly inspiring words. I mean if you were to pick up a travel brochure, and a vacation was described as being filled with prayer, fasting, and self-denial, who would want to go? So again, where do we find the strength and courage to make the dark and difficult journey of Lent? We find it on the Mount of Transfiguration. When our vision of Jesus is transfigured, when our eyes behold the brilliance of the Son of God, when see Jesus as he is (if only for a moment) and we bask in the light of his unconditional love and forgiveness, then we can do almost anything. We can walk through the valley of the shadow of death and fear no evil, for we will know that our Lord is with us. And we will find that even his rod and his staff are a comfort to us because he cares for us.

     We find encouragement and empowerment on the Mount of Transfiguration because it is there that we are granted a vision, not only of who Jesus is, but of what we become as we follow him to Calvary, a vision of what we become as we take up our cross and engage in the work of self-examination, repentance, and prayer. “The transfiguration of Jesus offers a glimpse of what is possible, not only for Jesus, but for all humanity.”[1] As one author puts it,

Who is Christ? Who am I?... The dazzling light that shone from the face of Jesus reveals to us his true stature as the eternal Son of God. It reveals to us also the highest potentiality of our created nature, our ultimate vocation as human beings.”[2]

So beloved, “I invite you,…, to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word.” It can be a long journey so travel light, that is, travel by the light of Christ who loves you, who empowers you, and who will guide you all the way to Easter, all the way to the resurrection life that awaits us on the other side of Calvary.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

---

[1] Lori Brandt Hale, “Luke 9:28–36 (37–43):  Theological Perspective” in Feasting on the Word; Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary: Year C, Volume 1 (eds. David L. Bartlett, Barbara Brown Taylor; Louisville, Ky: Westminster John Knox, 2009), 454.

[2] Andreas Andreopoulos, This Is My Beloved Son: The Transfiguration of Christ (Brewster, Mass.: Paraclete, 2012), from the Forward by Metropolitan Kallistos Ware.

Delivered on Sunday, March 2nd, a.d. 2014

at St. John's Episcopal Church (Wichita, Kansas)

The Scriptures

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transforming anger into compassion: jesus and the power of transforming initiatives

Year A • The Sixth Sunday After Epiphany

Deuteronomy 30:15–20 • Psalm 119:1–8 • 1 Corinthians 3:1–9 • Matthew 5:21–37

Scroll Down for the Texts of the Scriptures

Sermon available on YouTube by clicking here,

as an Audio File by clicking here,

and as a PDF by clicking here.

The Sermon

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart

be [always] acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my Strength and my Redeemer.

                                                                                                        — Psalm 19:14.

We Live in An Angry World And I am Something of an Expert

How many of you watch the news or read the newspaper? How many of you drive in traffic, stand in long lines at the checkout, or follow Twitter? Watch what people do; listen to how they talk to their children; read what they post on Facebook. If you do any of these things, for any length of time, you would be hard-pressed to draw any other conclusion than that our world is filled with angry people, with fearful, frustrated, angry people.  

     We live in an angry world, and I consider myself to be something of an expert. After all, I am a father of four, and I spend my days with middle schoolers as a substitute teacher in the public school system. Need I say more?

     I deal with anger on a daily basis, my own anger, that is. There is not a day that goes by that I do not feel anger. But that’s not the half of it. I find that I use anger; I rely upon it. I find that I have come to trust anger in an effort to control my world. By way of illustration, let me tell you a little story.

7th Hour

I am a building substitute for Pleasant Valley Middle School. So every day I go to Pleasant Valley, and they plug me into whatever classroom I am needed. I teach all grades and all subjects; sometimes more than one in a given day. Before Christmas, I was assigned to sub-teach a 7th Grade Social Studies class. It was a Friday, and the day had gone fairly well until 7th hour, the last hour of the day. For the life of me, I couldn’t get these kids to pay attention or stay on task. I got increasingly frustrated, because I am there to teach, not to babysit. There was lots of talking, lots of moving around, lots of distractions; all the things I hate. One girl comes in ten minutes late from the nurse. As soon as she enters the room, she begins chatting with a couple of students. She does this as she finds her seat and as if I were not in the middle of  teaching a lesson. I am not impressed, and my agitation and anger rises. I tell her to sit down and be quiet; and she is offended.

     This sort of thing continues, and I finally announce that if there is any more talking or disruptions, I will keep people after class. I then spend the rest of the hour with those who are working. When the bell rings, I dismiss two-thirds of the class, and I keep the rest. They are shocked, and express outrage at being treated this way. I am equally shocked and outraged, telling them that they need to pick up any paper on the floor and straighten the desks before they go. At this point, there is more shock, more outrage, and a bit of swearing (not by me).

     One girl says that it isn’t her mess, and so she isn’t picking anything up. Another girl calls her mother and says that she will be late because her teacher is being retarded. A boy insists that he has to get to basketball practice, but he refuses to do any work. The first girl says, “Mister, you may not have anywhere to go, but I’ve got somewhere to be.” A few students do what I ask, and I let them go. But in the end, I march four very angry students to the office, and then I head home very shaken.

     Did I act appropriately,… as a teacher,… as an employee of USD 259? I think I did; and the administration thinks I did. Yet, two months later, I am still bothered by the incident. There was so much anger over something that was fairly routine. Where did it all come from? What could I have done that might have helped myself and my students?

Our Anger Doesn’t Produce God’s Righteousness

I don’t enjoy getting angry or expressing anger. I hate the way it makes me feel. More­over, most of the time, my anger doesn’t actually achieve what I intend. Yet, I find myself turning to it again and again. Is this not the very definition of insanity, according to Einstein, “doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.” Anger just doesn’t seem to work very well, and I am reminded of what James—the brother of our Lord—had to say on the subject of anger.

You must understand this, my beloved: let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; for your anger does not produce God’s righteousness (James 1:19–20, nrsv).

Let me read that again:

Let everyone be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger; for your anger does not produce God’s righteousness (James 1:19–20, nrsv).

Well, I wish somebody would have told me that a long time ago; it would’ve saved me a whole lot of trouble. Oh, I’ve heard that stuff about being quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to anger. But that last bit, that last bit is what really gets me. Our anger does not produce God’s righteousness. Really? Is that really true? Are you telling me, James, that yelling at my kids—with flared nostrils and eyes aflame—isn’t producing the faith, hope, and love that God is looking for? …that all of my threats are for naught?

Let’s say that James is right, that human anger does not produce God’s righteous­ness. What do we do? Well, the answer seems fairly obvious? Don’t get angry. Don’t ever get angry. After all, isn’t that what Jesus teaches us. “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not murder,’ but I say to you, don’t even get angry?” Well, how do we do that? How do we not get angry?

     Well, before we try to tackle that question, it should be noted that Jesus never actually says, “Don’t get angry.” What I just quoted a second ago is not what Jesus teaches; it is, however, what we have been taught to hear when we read or listen to the Sermon on the Mount. But, Jesus never says not to become angry. In fact, we have stories of Jesus expressing his anger. But that does not get us off the hook. We’ve still got a lot of work to do where anger is concerned.

We Are Possessed by Anger

Back in 2006, in his State of the Union Address, President George Bush declared, “America is addicted to oil.” That’s true. But the fact is, America is addicted to lots of things: sugar, high fructose corn syrup, processed foods, caffeine, Starbucks, partisan politics, Downton Abby… You name it; we’re addicted to it. And some­where up there, up near the top of the list is anger. And do you know what you get when you add a D to ANGER? You get DANGER. Listen to this quote I ran across this past week:

     Anger is dangerous because it is addictive. When we feel angry, we feel a sense of power, and that can grip us. Angry people often feed on their own anger and get angrier and more aggressive in their behaviour.

This sense of power is often false. Anger gives a person the illusion of being ‘right’. When we are angry, we feel self-righteous about it, we feel we are right to express our anger as anger, and humiliate other people. That in-turn only creates more anger.[1]

As a society, we are addicted to anger; in fact, we are possessed by anger, and it is from this demon that Jesus seeks to deliver us in today’s gospel reading from the Sermon on the Mount.

Transforming Initiatives

In his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus describes what life looks like in the kingdom of God and how we can participate in it. Unfortunately, Christians have been taught to read the Sermon on the Mount as a series of high ideals and impossible demands. So instead of feeling empowered, we simply feel guilty and judged. But the “Sermon on the Mount is not about human striving toward high ideals but about God’s transforming initiatives to deliver us from the vicious cycles in which we get stuck.”[2] So, Jesus is not teaching us how to pull ourselves up by our own boot­straps; rather, he is showing us how to actively and obediently participate in God’s gracious deliverance. Recall the Exodus. Only the power of God could free the Israelites from their Egyptian taskmasters, yet the people still had to make the journey. Only the power of God could have parted the waters of the Red Sea, but the people still had to participate by putting one foot in front of the other. That’s what Jesus is doing in the Sermon on the Mount.

     In today’s reading, Jesus covers a variety of topics. He talks about anger, lust, divorce, and swearing oaths. Next week he will talk about non-retaliation and loving our enemies. If you read these carefully, you will notice that they follow the same pattern, they all exhibit the same three-part structure.

First, they each begin with Jesus saying, “You have heard that it was said….” Here he introduces the traditional Jewish teaching on a given subject. Second, Jesus follows this traditional teaching with a diagnosis of the human condition, one that describes a cycle of sin that enslaves human beings. This part begins, “But I say to you….” And this is where we must be very careful. So on the topic of anger, Jesus says,

“You have heard that it was said to those of ancient times, ‘You shall not murder’; and ‘whoever murders shall be liable to judgment.’ But I say to you that if you are angry with a brother or sister, you will be liable to judgment; and if you insult a brother or sister, you will be liable to the council; and if you say, ‘You fool,’ you will be liable to the hell of fire.”

     Those are strong words, but notice what Jesus does not say. He does not say, “Don’t get angry.” In fact, he doesn’t tell us to do anything. He is not prescribing any course of action yet. Why? Because at this point, he is simply describing the vicious cycle of anger, resentment, and hatred that can kill relationships and people. You see, when we harbor anger for another human being, we are disconnected from them. So often, that disconnection is maintained and reinforced through insults, name calling, and labeling, either aloud or internally in our thoughts. Insulting another person, calling them a idiot, keeps us in our anger. It stokes our anger, it serves to justify our anger in our own minds, and therefore disconnection grows and so does our anger. It truly is a vicious cycle.

     So how do we break free from these vicious cycles, according to Jesus? Well, it’s not a simple matter of just not doing these things. The solution comes in the climactic third part of Jesus’ teaching. Listen.

So when you are offering your gift at the altar, if you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift.

Here Jesus offers us, not a general principle, but concrete actions designed to set us free from the anger and resentment we find ourselves trapped in. Anger is about disconnection, so Jesus prescribes a course of action that seeks to establish or re-establish connection with another human being. Thus, the solution to our problem with anger is not, “Don’t be angry. Don’t insult people.,” but “Be reconciled.” Because it is only in establishing and maintaining connection with others that we have the resources to work through and resolve our anger.[3]

     So again, Jesus’ solution to our being possessed by anger is not prohibitions: Don’t do this; or, Don’t do that. The solution is to engage in what ethicist Glen Stassen calls, transforming initiatives: specific, concrete, positive actions that are designed to deliver us from the vicious cycles and internal programs that so often dictate our actions and reactions. Transforming initiatives are how we participate in God’s grace, in God’s way of deliverance. Let me illustrate the practice and power of transforming initiatives with one final story.

Thaddaeus and Me

When Thaddaeus was five or six years old, he was outside, and I was doing something in the house. Suddenly, Thaddaeus burst through the front door, slammed it shut behind him, and said to me, “You should be outside.” Well, I grew up in a home where children didn’t talk to their parents that way. I became incensed immediately, and I was just about to go down that old familiar road of, “You shouldn’t talk to me that way,” when something inside told me to just stop and think. I did, and it occurred to me that I had just come in from outside. So I said to Thaddaeus, “Were you scared because you suddenly realized you were alone?” His whole demeanor changed. His anger disappeared; he nodded yes; and then he came into my arms. I apologized, and said I was sorry for coming inside without telling him because I know he doesn’t like to be outside alone.

     I like to tell this story because, for me, it is a perfect illustration of how a transforming initiative has the power to transform anger into compassion and connection. When I stopped and listened, not to what Thaddaeus was saying, but to what lay behind his words, my anger disappeared and was replaced by a wellspring of compassion. In turn, this compassion freed me from my need to insist on my own way, and it allowed me to connect with Thaddaeus at a deeper level, at the level of his feeling of fear and his need for safety. In other words, when I was quick to listen and slow to speak, I found that I was slow to anger. And more to the point, I was granted the grace to perform a transforming initiative that resulted in our reconciliation.

     Had I responded out of my original anger, I know that Thaddaeus and I would have carried on shouting at each other, each insisting that the other person listen. And had I simply told myself not to be angry, that would not have worked either because I would not have had the awareness to recognize what was going on for Thaddaeus. What I needed was a specific, concrete, positive action designed to connect with him; I needed a transforming initiative.

     In the end, one small initiative on my part transformed my anger and Thaddaeus’. In one simple act, we were both set free from the vicious cycle of anger, and we received the gift of reconciliation. That’s what I would like to leave you this morning, a vision for transforming our anger into compassion and reconciliation, a course of action that has the power to break the internal programs of anger and resentment that so often dictate our actions and reactions.

     So, as ambassadors of Christ, as ambassadors of reconciliation, let’s get out there and transform our world. Let’s begin by transforming our relationships and our daily interactions with others one transforming initiative at a time.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

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[1] Vandana Kohli, “World Anger Day: What’s Driving Our Rage?,” http://ibnlive.in.com/news/world-anger-day-whats-driving-our-rage/286174-2.html.

[2] Glen H. Stassen, Just Peacemaking: Transforming Initiatives for Justice and Peace (Louisville, Ky.: Westminster, 1992), 37. “The Sermon on the Mount describes specific ways we can participate in the new initiatives God is taking. They are not harsh demands but methods of practical participation in God’s gracious deliverance” (38).

[3] Notice who Jesus directs his words to. Not to the one who is angry, but to the one who is the object of someone else’s anger. “If you remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there before the altar and go; first be reconciled to your brother or sister, and then come and offer your gift.”

Delivered on Sunday, February 16th, a.d. 2014

at St. John's Episcopal Church (Wichita, Kansas)

The Scriptures

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learning war no more: laboratories for nonviolence in the eschatological now

Year A • The First Sunday of Advent

Isaiah 2:1–5 • Psalm 122 • Romans 13:11–14 • Matthew 24:36–44
(Scroll Down for the Texts of the Scriptures)

Sermon available on YouTube by clicking here.
Sermon available as a PDF by clicking here.

The Sermon

I was glad when they said to me,“Let us go to the house of the Lord.” 

(Psalm 122:1)

Happy New Year!!!
Today is a special day. Not only is it the beginning of a new month, it is the beginning of a new season, the Season of Advent. In fact, it is also the first day of the New Church Year, so Happy New Year to you all! Now I had intended to bring along some noisemakers and party poppers, because I assume that all of you were up late last night bringing in the New Year, and so I thought that some noise might help wake you up, which is one of the major themes on this First Sunday of Advent. But alas, I was not able to make it to the store.
     Growing up, Advent was one of my favorite times of the year. For one reason, it meant that Christmas was on its way. Another reason was that loved the Advent wreath, with its three purple candles and its one pink candle, which is lit on the third Sunday in Advent instead of the fourth Sunday. As a kid always struck me as strange. What I liked about the Advent wreath was how it showed the passage of time. Back then, we used wax candles, and so the candles would shorten as the weeks of Advent passed by. Of course, the first candle was always the shortest, and as I sat in worship week after week, I would look at it and wonder whether it would have enough wax to last until midnight mass on Christmas Eve. I needn’t have worried though, for it always did. I also remember that in the little Episcopal Church of my childhood, which coincidentally was also named St. John’s, in our little parish church, we had a draft would sometimes pass right through the Advent wreath, causing the candles to burn quickly and unevenly. The wax would drip down on only one side of the candles, forming these large stalagmites—or stalactites, I can’t ever remember which is which—that we would break off after worship. Anyway, I loved the Season of Advent, the sights and sounds, the colors and the anticipation.
     That’s what Advent is all about. It is a season of anticipation, a season of preparation, a season where we eagerly await the coming of our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ.

Advent • Forwards and Backwards • History and Eschatology

But, and this is very important, during the season of Advent, we are not just getting ready to meet the baby Jesus who arrived in the little town of Bethlehem some two thousand years ago. In Advent, we are also getting ready to meet the resurrected Jesus who is destined to return at some undisclosed future time—perhaps tomorrow, perhaps next year, perhaps next millennium, perhaps even before this sermon is over—Can I get an “Amen”?]. In short, Advent is about Christ’s first coming and his second coming. In the Season of Advent, we look forwards and backwards, and we do it in that order. So, today, on this First Sunday of Advent, we look not to the past but to the future, to the return of Christ.
     Why do we do this? Because as Christians, we are not only a historical people—a people who takes its identity from what God has done in the past—we are also an eschatological people. Eschatology. Well, that’s not a word you hear everyday… unless you are one of those unfortunate, hapless soles who live at my house. Now I wouldn’t say that the word, eschatology, can be heard every day in my house, but over the past twelve years, it has been heard with some regularity and frequency, mainly because it’s the first word that I have tried to get each of my kids to say when they were learning to talk. I would look at them, and say, “Eschatology. Say, eschatology. Come on. Es-cha-tol-o-gy.” Despite my valiant efforts, however, none of my children ended up choosing eschatology as their first word. Instead, they gave into peer pressure and chose “Momma,” or some other related word. Nevertheless, I am pleased to report that, before the age of two, all of my children have said something that resembled, eschatology. One of them used to say “tology,” which was good enough for me.
     So what does eschatology mean, and why is it so important? Simply put, eschatology refers to the last things. It is the counterpart to history which deals with the former things. In Christian theology, eschatology addresses such matters as the return of Christ, the final judgment, and the new creation. Eschatology is critical because, it not only tells us where we are going, it also tells us how we are going to get there. Eschatology is about what God is doing to bring about the final renewal of humanity and all of creation, and thus it is a source of hope because, if God is on the job, we can be assured that, in the end, all will be well. Eschatology is also a source of Christian identity and practice. You see, our Christian vocation—our vocation as followers of Christ—is not only shaped and informed by what Christ accomplished in his first coming, it is also shaped and informed by what Christ will accomplish in his second coming. As Christians, we have been called and equipped to participate in what God is doing in the world, and we get our cues not only from the past, but also from the future. We are a historical people; and we are an eschatological people.      In order to understand and participate in what God is doing in this world, we need light from both the past and the future to illumine our way because the world we inhabit is a dark one, fraught with sin, brokenness, and violence. When we go through those doors rejoicing in the power of the Spirit, we need to have both our eyes wide open, one eye on the past and one eye on the future. And, when we cross that street to love and serve the Lord, we need to be looking both ways, forwards and backwards, which is exactly what the Season of Advent helps us do.
     In the weeks ahead, we will make our way to Bethlehem, back to the beginning of the story when the God of all creation became a creature, a flesh-and-blood human being, Jesus of Nazareth. But today, on this first Sunday of Advent, we are headed in the opposite direction. We are looking ahead to see how the story ends, to see what things will look like when Christ returns to complete the work begun in his incarnation. We begin this new Christian year with the end in mind because the end of all things gives us a vision of where God is going and that vision empowers us to participate in what God is doing in the present.

Arise You Sleepers! Keep Awake!
Let’s take a look at our readings for today. In the Epistle and Gospel readings, we find similar directives: Arise sleepers! Keep awake! Why? Because the future—God’s future—is pressing in upon us. As Paul writes in Romans, “It is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we [first] became believers; the night is far gone, the day is near. Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light; let us live honorably” (Rom 13:11b–13a), as though the day had already dawned. The day of salvation, the day when Jesus returns to consummate the renewal of all creation, that day is near, but it has not yet arrived. The night is nearly spent, but the darkness still lingers. Yet, we are children of the light, so we must live as such. Instead of adopting the values and practices of a rundown, sinful world, we are called to live in accordance with the values and practices that characterize life in the coming kingdom of God. Don’t give darkness the time of day, whether that darkness is in you or in the world. Instead, “put on the Lord Jesus Christ” (Rom 13:14a). Clothe yourselves with Christ. Array yourselves with the values and habits of Jesus. Live as he lived, trusting in the love of his Father and relying upon the power of the indwelling Holy Spirit.
     Turning our attention to Matthew, Jesus also speaks of end of this age and of his return as the Son of Man, which will happen at an unknown, undisclosed future time. “About that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father” (Matt 24:36). As his followers, we need to keep awake and remain vigilant because we do not know when our Lord is returning. “You must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour” (Matt 24:44). But what does it mean to be ready? What does it mean to keep awake? It means to be about the Lord’s business whilst he is away. After his death and resurrection, Jesus didn’t hang around for very long. He made appearances for a period of forty days, and then he ascended into heaven. Jesus left his disciples in charge; he left us in charge. Now, Jesus has not abandoned us; and he does not expect us to fend for ourselves. Jesus has returned to the Father, yet the Holy Spirit is poured out on all who identify Jesus as Lord and Saviour that they might be equipped for the task they have been given to do, namely, the task of being about the Lord’s business until he returns.
     So, what exactly is the Lord’s business?

Isaiah — Learning War No More
Today’s reading from Isaiah gives us a clue. In the first twelve chapters of Isaiah, God’s people are indicted for their persistent sins of idolatry and injustice, for their ongoing failure and refusal to love God and neighbor. In the opening chapter of Isaiah, the Lord takes his people to court. Like a prosecuting attorney, the Lord argues his case before the heavens and the earth, who serve as judge and jury. The Lord says:

     Hear, O heavens, and listen, O earth;
          for the Lord has spoken: 

     I reared children and brought them up,
          but they have rebelled against me (Isa 1:2).

     

Yet, in the middle of this indictment, the Lord offers his people a glimmer of hope. In today’s reading from Isaiah 2, the Lord anticipates a future day when his wayward people are redeemed and they finally fulfill their vocation to be a blessing and a light to the world. In that day, the peoples of the earth will flock to Jerusalem to worship the one true God, to learn to walk in his ways. In that day, the Lord will heal all the wounds that the nations of the world have inflicted upon one another, and there will be peace—genuine, everlasting peace. As a sign of this peace, weapons of war will be transformed into farming implements. “Swords will be beaten into plowshares, and spears into pruning hooks” (Isa 2:4b). Tanks will be retrofitted as tractors, and drones will be used to seek out and rescue lost animals. “Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more” (Isa 2:4b).
     It is a glorious vision, one that many people pray for, but what does it have to do with life in the here and now. Isn’t this a picture of the kingdom of God in the future? Well, yes it is. But, and this is critical, the kingdom of God envisioned here in Isaiah was inaugurated at Jesus’ first coming. It has not arrived in its fullness, but it is present now. Jesus proclaimed, “Repent for the kingdom of God is at hand.” Through the life, death, resurrection, and ascension of Jesus, the future has already been making inroads into the present. And we are called to live in light of that reality. That is eschatology.
     When the kingdom of God is consummated, when it finally arrives in all its fullness, there will be justice. The growing divide between rich and poor will be no more. The hatred and distrust that divides races and classes of people will be no more. When the kingdom arrives in its fullness, there will be peace. “Nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more” (2:4b). Why? Because human beings will be reconciled to God and reconciled to one another. Again, it is a glorious vision, but it is not one that remains in some far-off, distant future. If in Christ, the new creation has already dawned, then this picture of peace and justice that Isaiah presents is not something we just sit back and longingly wait for, it is something that we work for in the here and now. That is what it means to be an eschatological people; living our present lives in the light of God’s future. Our Lord and Savior is in the business of reconciliation, of creating justice through just means and of establishing peace through peaceful means. Since we have been called to be about our Lord’s business until he returns, as Christians, we too are in the business of reconciliation, the justice- and peace-making business.

A New Year’s Resolution
So what does that look like for you and me as followers of Jesus? What does it look like for us as the body of Christ? There is so much that needs to be said, so over the course of this next year, I intend to focus on these issues in my preaching. This will be a great year to do it, because it is Year A in the lectionary, which focuses on the Gospel of Matthew. And it is in Matthew that we encounter some of Jesus’ most well-known pronouncements on peaceful resistance and noncooperation with violence.

     “All who take up the sword will die by the sword” (26:52).
     “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the land” (5:5).
     “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (5:44).
     “If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also” (5:39).
     “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God” (5:9).

     Let me conclude with some personal reflections. Recently, I began reading a book entitled, The Only Alternative. It’s a book about Christian Nonviolent Peacemakers in America, people like Martin Luther King, Jr. and Dorothy Day and Thomas Merton. The final chapter is devoted to Kathy Kelly, with whom I was not previously familiar. Kelly offers some very valuable insights on becoming peacemakers. In an interview, she says:     I think it is very important to use, as the laboratory for nonviolence, our everyday experience. Take time to mine from that experience. What can we learn about ourselves, about our own propensity for violence? (p. 17)   
     I have been an advocate for nonviolence for about 25 years now, ever since I was introduced to it by some Quakers I met during my time at Friends University. But only in the past few years have I become aware of how much my interest in nonviolence is fueled by my intense desire to become free from what I now recognize as my own propensity for violence. King David writes in Psalm 51, “I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.” I know my propensity for violence, that is, my propensity to use anger as a way to control my environment, be it in my role as a father or as a public school teacher. Thus, for me, home and school are my principal laboratories for research on nonviolence because these are the places where I come face to face with my own limitations and my own brokenness on a daily basis. These are the places where I find it hardest to be compassionate and forgiving.
     So where are your laboratories for nonviolence? Where do you find it hardest to live compassionately in your daily life? These are the places that hold the greatest potential for our personal and collective transformation, for these are the places where Christ meets us and helps us lay aside the anger, hatred, and distrust, the fear, anxiety, and pain that contributes to violence in our world.
     Becoming aware of our own propensities for violence—be it physical, emotional, or spiritual—is part of what it means to wake up and to be about the Lord’s business until he returns. During this Season of Advent, as we prepare for Christ’s first coming and as we await his second coming, let us make a New Year’s resolution to learn war no more, but instead to learn this day what makes for peace.

     Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which your Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the living and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. (Contemporary Collect for First Sunday of Advent, BCP 211).

The Scriptures

Isaiah 2:1–5
The word that Isaiah son of Amoz saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem.

     In days to come

          the mountain of the Lord’s house

     shall be established as the highest of the mountains,
          and shall be raised above the hills;

     all the nations shall stream to it.
          Many peoples shall come and say,

     “Come, let us go up to the mountain of the Lord,
          to the house of the God of Jacob;

     that he may teach us his ways
          and that we may walk in his paths.”

     For out of Zion shall go forth instruction,
          and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem.

     He shall judge between the nations,
          and shall arbitrate for many peoples;

     they shall beat their swords into plowshares,
          and their spears into pruning hooks;

     nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
          neither shall they learn war any more.

     O house of Jacob,
          come, let us walk

          in the light of the Lord!

Psalm 122 (BCP 779)
1     I was glad when they said to me, *
               “Let us go to the house of the Lord.” 

2       Now our feet are standing *

               within your gates, O Jerusalem. 

3       Jerusalem is built as a city *

               that is at unity with itself; 

4       To which the tribes go up, the tribes of the Lord, *

               the assembly of Israel, to praise the Name of the Lord. 

5       For there are the thrones of judgment, *

               the thrones of the house of David. 

6       Pray for the peace of Jerusalem: *

               “May they prosper who love you. 

7       Peace be within your walls *

               and quietness within your towers. 

8       For my brethren and companions’ sake, *

               I pray for your prosperity. 

9       Because of the house of the Lord our God, *

               I will seek to do you good.” 

Romans 13:11–14 You know what time it is, how it is now the moment for you to wake from sleep. For salvation is nearer to us now than when we became believers; the night is far gone, the day is near. Let us then lay aside the works of darkness and put on the armor of light; let us live honorably as in the day, not in reveling and drunkenness, not in debauchery and licentiousness, not in quarreling and jealousy. Instead, put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires.

Matthew 24:36–44 Jesus said to the disciples, “But about that day and hour no one knows, neither the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father. For as the days of Noah were, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day Noah entered the ark, and they knew nothing until the flood came and swept them all away, so too will be the coming of the Son of Man. Then two will be in the field; one will be taken and one will be left. Two women will be grinding meal together; one will be taken and one will be left. Keep awake therefore, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. But understand this: if the owner of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into. Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.”

Delivered on Sunday, December 1, a.d. 2013

at St. John's Episcopal Church (Wichita, Kansas)