Sermon: Third Sunday in Lent, John 5:5-42

                                                                   John 4:5-42

In light of the disaster which struck Japan a couple of weeks ago there has been a  lot of internet traffic discussing the role played by God in the tragedy. Some Christians have drawn what to them is an inevitable conclusion: Japan is not a Christian nation, in fact it has by and large rejected the Christian message. Therefore God has exercised his divine judgment on the Japanese by striking them with the Tsunami. And those who support this point of view find relevant Biblical passages which support this interpretation. And they aren’t difficult to find. Read passages of Genesis and Exodus and you encounter episodes of God exercising judgment and wrath on the godless. Sodom and Gomorrah burned beneath fire and brimstone. Water came crashing down upon the Egyptian army as it pursued the Israelites fleeing from bondage. Yes, there are many passages we can find to support our interpretation of the Tsunami. But there is a name for this type of evidence gathering. It’s called proof-texting, which is the gathering  quotations which neatly fit the interpretation. And it is that—an interpretation, a speculation, which may or may not be correct. We can’t say.

            When we stop and think about it. There’s a lot of that though isn’t there: speculation about what God is doing in the world, what God might be doing—or not doing—in these tragic circumstances.

            But our faith isn’t built on speculations. And going around telling other groups of people that God has punished them severely for their poor behaviour is not the basis of Christian proclamation—even if it might be true.  There’s an old saying: point a finger at someone else and you’ve got three others pointing back at you. Paul tells us in today’s reading that we have all—all—stood under condemnation, and have been saved by grace alone. So there is no room for finger pointing. Knowing that salvation comes through grace alone ought to instill an orientation of compassion, not judgment.

So then, what is the basis of the Christian proclamation? We need look no further than Mark 16:15. Here the resurrected Christ commissions his disciples with the words: “ Go into all the world and proclaim the good news to the whole creation.” What is the good news? Is it saying things like, “well because you folks aren’t good Christians God has killed a substantial number of your people?” Is it by cracking open our Bibles to our favorite proof texts and saying stuff like, “ This is God’s punishment for your sins, and here is how I know” Is that the gospel? Is that the good news? Very clearly, this isn’t the good news of the gospel.

            Our faith is based on the solid ground of gospel proclamation, of good news spreading. Christians are called to deliver  God’s thirst-quenching, spiritual water. This is the basis of evangelism—of good news spreading.

            Christians do not need to speculate what God is about. We do not confess a god of philosophical theory or theological hunches.

Here is a very simple rule when it comes to understanding who God is for us. Here is a very simple guideline for when someone comes at you with one of those tough questions. Whenever we want to understand God, we need look no further than Jesus. Jesus is the ultimate answer to what is God like. Jesus, God revealed in scripture, has given us all that we need. The resurrected Christ, and the great gift of eternal life, is the basis of Christian proclamation.

            Clearly, if we want to understand how God acts in a given situation, we are called look to Jesus. 

Today’s text gives us a tremendous gift in showing us how Jesus approaches someone who is very different from himself—someone whose gender, religion, and culture is different from his. It is very easy to overlook these differences as we read this text. But they were substantial.

            The woman at the well, was, first of all, a woman.  When he walked the face of the earth as a human being, Jesus lived in a culture that was deeply patriarchal. Men held the authority. Men could divorce their wives easily and bore none of the stigma. That wasn’t true for women. Gender equality as we understand it, did not exist.  For a Jewish rabbi to be engaged in this kind of extensive conversation would have been unthinkable. Even the disciples were taken aback by this conversation. John tells us, “ They were astonished that he was speaking with a woman—and a Samaritan woman, no less. Remember the Samaritans were  enemies and outsiders. So even by engaging in this kind of conversation with a woman, Jesus is telling us something—telling us something about  communication across social boundary and barriers.

Jeus requests a drink of water from a woman who, aside from her status as a woman and a Samartian, also carries with her some significant inter-personal “baggage” (to use a 21^st century term). She’s been married five times, and we have good reason to believe that she has been outcast by her own community. Otherwise she probably would not be by herself, drawing water alone. Normally she would be doing that with other women from the village.

But notice how Jesus approaches her. Notice what he isn’t doing. He doesn’t have his finger extended. He isn’t standing on a pedestal. He isn’t threatening, or telling her to straighten her life out, or pronouncing the imminent arrival of divine wrath upon her. Jesus doesn’t do what is so very tempting to do, what some Christians have done in the face of difference.

Yes, it is extremely frustrating to encounter resistance to the gospel.  It is frustrating to see people lead lifestyles that our not in keeping with biblical truth. Rejection can be painful.  When the gospel is resisted and rejected by those who are even very close to us, our thoughts can easily turn to wrath.  And when tragedy strikes a nation which has historically rejected Christianity, the conclusion can be all too easy  “They have rejected the message; therefore they are being punished”. Those who believe this might want to take a moment and do some reflecting, and ask themselves some questions.  “ Is this the truth? Or is it an expression of our hurt or bitterness? “

Again, we go back to how Jesus approaches difference. And his attitude isn’t one of permissiveness, kind of a “I’m okay, you’re okay” approach which has come to define humanistic psychology. Jesus is well aware of this woman’s sin and brokenness. Jesus is well aware of her deep need of  forgiveness and healing.

But Jesus isn’t with her there on that day by that well to give her a lecture on morality. He is there to bring her life. He is there to quench her with his life giving water.

He does this, first of all, by being in relationship with her—in real relationship. He is human. His is thirsty. He has real need. And he has the grace to let this outcast woman serve him. He allows himself to be vulnerable. Standing on pedestals and pointing rejecting and judgmental fingers does nothing to enhance relationship or create genuine human interaction. It only furthers division. And, the truth is people know. Deep down they know.

When the woman comes to the well on that day, she probably came with a lot of sadness in her heart, a lot of brokenness in her being. She may not have even been aware of it. We live in a time and a place and a part of the world which is wealthy. We live in a part of the city with high incomes. Many people believe that money is the answer to everything. Money has become their god. But the falseness of this god is revealed when it cannot deliver what it seems to promise—heartache, broken relationship. Material wealth cannot fill the spiritual gap, it cannot quench the deep down thirst.

We don’t know the specific interpersonal history of the woman at the well.  But when she encounters Jesus she becomes acutely aware of her own brokenness and emptiness. In order to receive the living water which Jesus offers, we need, first of all, to be aware of our need for it. That’s kind of scary, though, isn’t it? We live in a culture and society which has taught us that we need to be self sufficient, we need to stand on our won two feet and get the job done, we need to be somebody. To become face to face with our own neediness can be very difficult for some people. For some people it isn’t.

External circumstances have made them acutely aware of their own need. Many wonder why the church is growing by leaps and bounds in places like Africa, in the poorer nations of the world. This is why. The people who are filling the churches there don’t have things to hide behind, big fancy houses, fortresses to huddle in, and avoid the truth about themselves.

But such truth cannot be avoided in a meeting with Jesus. When the woman at the well encounters Jesus, she becomes acutely aware of this thirst, of her dry spiritual palate. She gives Jesus plain water, Jesus offers her the water of eternal life—water which quenches spiritual thirst ultimately and completely, water which flows from an endless well spring.

You might be aware that bottled water has become popular over the last few years. People purchase this water becomes of its special purity, it’s chlorine free, it goes down smoothly and hits the spot. Its brought to homes in trucks by delivery people. Christians are called to be the delivery people. Christians are called to deliver God’s spiritual water, which is to be shared and shared abundantly. That is what we are called to do. We are called to proclaim and testify to the gospel. We are called to embody the gospel.

The water which we deliver will quench that deep spiritual thirst, because the water which we deliver will not be our water, but the water of Christ, the water of the one who has given us the great gift of eternal life, the water which has washed us clean, the water which enables us to carrying out our journey. This water will be received, dry palates will be satisfied, and new water bearers will be enabled.

But also, we must come to terms with the fact that this water will be rejected will be thrown out. And that is a very sad fact to come to terms with. It is a very sad fact to have all of this life-giving water to distribute with few if any takers. In those times, we must always go back to who is the source.

It is God who creates faith. Faith only comes by the work of the Holy Spirit. If Christian faith has had little or no presence in Japan or other nations or this neighbourhood, it is because God has decided that it is to be this way. God is in charge. But this doesn’t mean that we are to stop delivering the water. This doesn’t mean that the spiritual relief effort ceases. What it means is that the church is called to faithful witness under all circumstances, and the source of our witness is he who gave himself for us totally and completely.  The source of our witness is he who quenches thirst totally and completely—the same one who quenched the thirst of the woman at the well. Let us always and everywhere give God thanks for this well-spring of water, which quenches our deepest thirst. And let us pray for the courage to share this water with all. Let us make that our evangelical priority. Let us make that the heart of our mission. Now may the peace which surpases all understanding guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus, Amen.

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Matthew 17:1-9, Transfiguration Sunday

We are blessed to live in a land surrounded by mountains.  Indeed, words don’t so justice to the spectacle and majesty of the peaks which overlook this beautiful land.  Few views rival  those captured from the top of Golden Ears Mountain, Whistler, and any of our local ski hills.

            A viewing from these magnificent heights are an awe inspiring, and some would say, spiritual experience.

            It is therefore no surprise that important events in the biblical narrative took place on  mountain tops.

             Moses, the great liberator of the Israelites had two  direct encounters of God on Mount Sinai. The first was to receive his mission to deliver God’s people from the chains of bondage in Egypt. Here he removed his shoes befoee the burning bush as he heard the voice of God speak to him directly. The Second was  another spectacular  encounter with God, we read about today, during which time he received the tables of the law—the Ten Commandments.

            The great prophet Elijah had his own encounter with God upon the mountaintop. His came on Mount Horeb It was not spectacular. God didn’t come to him in a storm. Rather, God came to Him in the still, quiet, voice. The still quiet voice commissioned him to appoint new, faithful, kings in Israel and Assyria, and a prophetic successor, Elisha, to bring restoration and true faithfulness to Israel.

            God’s greatest Lawgiver, Moses, and His Greatest Prophet, Elijah, had their most intimate encounter with God on mountains, were directly encountered by the divine, experienced what are called “theophanies”. 

            Jesus, God’s only begotten Son, would also have his own mountain-top experience. But there would be a difference. Jesus would not be alone during this direct divine encounter. His disciples, Peter, James and John, would be present to witness the divine manifestation.

            The text doesn’t tell us, specifically, on which mountain the events we read today took place. Scholars agree that it was most likely Mount Herman, overlooking the Jordan Valley. And it is unlikely that the transfiguration took place at the very peak of the mountain. It was most likely on the slope. But regardless of the specific geography, we know that this event took place at a key point in the ministry of Jesus. He  had revealed the kingdom of God through his teachings and through his healings. His enemies, the Pharisees, had identified Jesus as a blasphemer, and were determined that he must die, Jesus had appointed Peter as the rock upon whom he will build his church, and Jesus had foretold his own death and resurrection.

Jesus had made his destiny clear to his disciples, and now His heavenly Father will identify Jesus to his disciples.

This isn’t the first time God the Father declared Jesus as his beloved Son before people—the first time God’s voice thundered from heaven. It happened during the baptism of Jesus.  And here it  happened again.

In the transfiguration, Jesus is set alongside Moses and Elijah, those great men. He is set alongside them, and then elevated above them. He, above all others, even Moses and Elijah, is to be listened to!

In this moment there can be no doubt, no question about who Jesus is, for he has been glorified by his heavenly Father.

Peter’s response to this glorification is a naturally human one. It is to create a dwelling place for each of the three. It is to retain and maintain that moment of glory on the mountaintop.

A couple of weeks ago many people in Vancouver partook in gatherings to celebrate the first anniversary of the Winter Olympics, the much celebrated and heralded event. That celebration was motivated, in part, by a longing, a longing to return to those fourteen days of glory, a desire that perhaps the clock could be turned back. Perhaps a year ago, after the spectacular men’s hockey victory against the Untied States many wished that time could stand still. There are many moments in life like that aren’t there? Both collectively and individually, there are “peak mountaintop moments” that we wish could be preserved, that we wish would have a permanent dwelling place, and not just in images captured in photographs.

So just imagine how Peter, that humble fisherman felt on that day, when those two great figures appeared alongside Jesus, who shone forth in all his divine glory. He would naturally want to preserve that moment when Jesus, his Lord, his friend, stood between these two pillars of Israel’s religious history and achievement. He would want that remarkable moment to last, when Jesus shone in all his glory, the moment when everything made sense.  So he wanted to make a dwelling place for the three: the  greatest bringer of the Law, the  greatest prophet, and God’s only begotten Son.

But this moment will not be preserved, it will not last, it will come to an end.

The thundering of God’s voice terrifies Peter and the other disciples, who fall to the ground.

Jesus, standing alone, tells them, “ Do not be afraid.” He is no longer shining in glorious white. Moses and Elijah are gone. The spectacular voice of the Heavenly Father thundered, but now is silent.

What was going through Peter’s head then? What was he thinking? It may have seemed to him just moments before that all had been fulfilled, Jesus was glorified,  that the journey had ended, and the story had reached its joyful conclusion with the glorious proclamation and exhaltation of Jesus—with glorious victory.

            This transfiguration was a glorious moment to be sure. But it was not the ultimate moment of glory. Christ’s greatest moment of glory came not on the mountain side of Mount Horeb when he was arrayed in dazzling white. Christ’s greatest moment of glory  came upon  a lesser mountain, a hill, in fact. It was called Golgitha, where he was crucified. Christ’s greatest moment of  glory would be when he was hung up on the cross. There he wasn’t flanked by Moses and Elijah. There two criminals would be on his right and on his left.

            At the time of the transfiguration Peter or James or John would not possibly have believed that. Yes, Jesus had told them what would happen, but did they truly believe it in their hearts? The scriptural evidence would say “no”. It is even very difficult for us to believe that God’s greatest moment of triumph would come through his  moment of greatest suffering— hard even for us who know how the story turned out, even in light of the resurrection. But on their way down from the mountain Jesus tells Peter, James, and John, tells them the truth about what is going to happen: ‘The Son of Man is about to suffer at their hands.” At the hands of the world, God himself will suffer death  by the world for the world.

            Part of us naturally wishes that the story would have ended up on that mountain during the transfiguration. It is natural to not want the cross to be part of the story. It is natural not to want the brutal climax of our Lord hanging on the cross. If only Herod and Pilate could have been up there on that mountain, too. If only the brutal and merciless mob who shouted “crucify him”, could have seen Jesus in dazzling white. If only those mocking roman soldiers got a glimpse, just a glimpse of that. If only they heard God’s voice thunder then. But on that day we remember on Good Friday, God’s voice didn’t thunder. God the father remained silent as his Son died.

But even as Christ was glorified on that mountain, the two great fugures who stood next to him told him what his ultimately glorious destiny would be.  Matthew doesn’t give us the details of the discussion. But Luke does. Luke tells us that the Law giver and the prophet spoke to Jesus of  “the decease he was to accomplish in Jerusalem.”  The word “decease” is  a Greek term , when translated to Hebrew means,

“ Exodus”. Jesus was to do for all of humanity what Moses did for the Hebrew slaves—effect a great deliverance from bondage. But that deliverance had to come through the cross on Golgitha.

            Today we celebrate transfiguration Sunday, the day which Christ was glorified upon that mountain. We celebrate that with white paraments. We celebrate the radiance of Christ. It is no coincidence, however, that this celebration comes on the last Sunday before the season of Lent, the season of journeying, journeying to that day of ultimate deliverance. Part of us would like  not to move into Lent—Lent with its heavy contemplation. Wouldn’t it be nice just to skip to Easter just skip on over to Easter? But it doesn’t work that way.  We still have a  some winter to move through before spring arrives. There can be no Easter without Good Friday. There can be no resurrection without the cross. God must die, before God can give the  gift of ultimate life.

            But it is so tempting to want to by-pass the cross, to leave it out of the picture—to proclaim glory in strength as we understand it. It is tempting to preach a health and wealth gospel, to preach that if you just pray hard enough everything will turn out alright, to preach that the rewards of faith are material riches.  It would have been very tempting indeed for Peter and the disciples to come down from the mountain and tell everyone what they had seen, to speak of Christ’s glorious manifestation alongside the two great pillars of Israel.

But notice that Jesus tells them. He tells them not to do that. He tells them to keep their mouths closed on this one. There can be no discussion of Christ’s glorification until he has accomplished all he  had come to do. Then, and only then, will the  transfiguration stand as testimony to Christ’s glory.

            This Wednesday,  the church moves from the season of Epiphany into the season of Lent, moves from the season in which the lessons describe those great moments of Jesus’ identification as he Christ, the anointed one, the deliverer, the Saviour, to lessons which call us to contemplate the way of  Jesus,  way of self-denial, the way of the cross. Lent isn’t a happy clappy season.  It is  a season where halleluiah  isn’t said. But it isn’t a down and depressing season either. It is a season which invites us to more deeply consider what it  means to live in the ultimate reality of resurrection, even as death remains a reality. Lent invites us to a deeper contemplation of the cross, of its paradox. Lent invites us to  think about the dark places,  but always with the lamp of God’s light shining before us.

            The disciples had a glorious mountain top experience with Jesus, and we are sure to have ours. But always remember what lay before Jesus and before them when they came down from that mountain. But they would not move forward in the absence of light. They would not move into darkness without transfiguration brilliance etched in their memories, brilliant radiant light which shone hope into their hearts. Their hope would be fulfilled on Easter, the day which fuels our hope. So let us live in that Easter light even as we journey this  day and beyond. Now, may the peace which surpasses all understanding guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus—Amen.