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Sermon, Lent 4: John 9:1-41

John 9:1-41

In today’s gospel lesson we hear of a miraculous healing, a miraculous healing which testifies to the divinity of Christ.  Through this healing, this gift of giving a man born blind from birth his sight, Jesus shows us exactly who he is.  There are other miracles like this in scripture, which stand as testimony, as proof, if you will, that Jesus Christ is the Son of God.

            This is important, but if we look at the story of Jesus and this blind man only from the perspective of a miraculous physical healing, we might miss its deeper significance of this story. For it speaks fundamentally to the mission of Christ—a mission to which the religious authorities of first century Judea were blind to, a mission which  all of us, in our own ways, can be blind to.

            The main theme of the story we read today is  the healing of blindness., and it is not the physical blindness of the poor man which is most relevant to us today, but the spiritual blindness which pervades, runs through the story.

            It begins in the hearts of the disciples, the ones who have walked with Jesus. We might not tend to think that they, in their own way are blind, and they did not think so, either. But they do demonstrate a kind of blindness with their question about the man: “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?”

            They ask the question as if the man were not even there.

Just imagine how that would have made him feel. Imagine being a person with a disability sitting on a park bench, and suddenly a group of men comes over. They stand near you. One of them points at you while he asks another question about the role your or your parents sinfulness may have played in your disability.

How would that make you feel? Most folks would find this to be a dehumanizing experience to say the least.

But this happens all the time. It happens whenever we speak about people in the abstract or as objects. It happens whenever human beings are spoken about or regarded as less than human.—even with good intentions 

Some of you may have seen the movie ‘Patch Adams” which details the real life story of a doctor who cut against the grain of what the medical establishment was teaching in the United States at the time. The domninant philosophy was that physicians were to maintain a psychological distance from their patients. That to be a good doctor was to be a good technician, and to view meical practice through the lens of cold objectivity.  And there is a scene in the movie where Pacth and his younger colleagues are taken on rounds through the hospital. There instuctor takes them to various rooms and discusses the conditions of patients, he offers explanations and invites questions.  And all of this interesting scientific inquiryoccurs as if the person under discussion where not even there. The patient looks noticibly frightened by all of this Patch himself visibly distressed  asks the patient what her name is. The person responds with a smile—humanity has intruded into what has been a dehumanizing experience.

A few years ago a Jewish theologian by the name of Martin Buber wrote a book titled, I and Thou. In it he analyizes this tendency to regard others from an “I-it” perspective. Whenever others become mere objects to whom I relate, I am not fully engaged with their humanity. This is an “I-it relationship.”  It is a fundamental fact of the human condition that we relate to others in an “I-it” way. We see this very clearly in the patch Adams example. The person under examination isn’t so much a human being as she was a patient, an object of scientific scrutiny. But we were not created to live in “I-it realtionships”. We were created to live in “I-thou” realtionships in which the humanity of the other person is fully recognized and engaged. “Love your neighbour” as yourself. The second of Jesus’ great commandments brings this truth into sharp awareness and makes us aware of how far we have strayed from God’s intention.

In today’s reading Jesus will not  stand back and engage  a mere theological and intellectual discussion.  Jesus gives the disciples an answer. The man’s blindness has nothing to do with sin—neither his nor his parents.  God will show his glory through this man. God’s healing work will be manifested.

Then Jesus heals the man. Jesus enters the situation and condition of the blind man’s life. Jesus the Great physician will heal as only Jesus can.

And when Jesus heals the man, our attention is drawn to what follows, what happens next.

But let us not overlook one very important, one centrally important aspect of the healing.  It is very tempting to only look at the giving of  physical sight as a manifestation of God’s glory—which it most certainly was.  But it wasn’t the only one. The lesson that the disciples were taught, the Pharisees were taught, and we are taught, is that the blind man was worth healing in the first place. He was worth it. He was worth it because he wasn’t a mere object,  a blind man, or a beggar, or whatever category  he was slotted into. He was worth it, because he was a human being made in God’s image. He was made in God’s image and was worth healing.

All human beings are worth it, because all human beings are made in the image of God. You are worth it.

 In God’s view there is no such thing as a “nobody”.  In fact, throughout the biblical narrative, God has a tendency to choose those whom society would overlook. We read about that today in 1 Samuel. God did not choose the fittest, largest or strongest of Jesse’s sons to be the king of Israel. He chose David, the smallest, the youngest. He chose David, knowing full well that David would sin against him, that David’s kingship while glorious and mighty, would also be flawed in some very important aspects.

 But how easy it is to forget the very simple, yet profound spiritual truth that God loves all whom he created—how easily this simple truth is forgotten as humans are categorized into desirables and undesirables. For most of humanity’s history people with disabilities were seen in most cultures as being somehow flawed. They need to be set aside. They belong somewhere else, out of view.

By putting the disabled conveniently out of view, reveals the blindness of society. The blindness of the disciples is revealed and exposed in the story by Jesus’ radical engagement with the blind man in a “I-thou” relationship as opposed to the disciples “I-it” approach.

Through this healing action Jesus reveals the spiritual blindness of all who would presume to judge others—or see others as “its”.  All people are worth it, and the blind man was most certainly worth it. All people are worth healing, and that is what Jesus came into the world to do—to heal a broken and hurting world.

But the religious authorities of the day—the Pharisees did not see this. They did not see this because, they, too were blind. They were blinded by their interpretation of the religious Law. The Torah, the book of Laws for the Jewish people forbid healing on the Sabbath. As this rule was interpreted, this meant that life-saving measures could be taken. 911 calls were permitted. But chronic conditions, which were not emergencies could not. In other words,  the emergency ward was open, but the GPs office was closed.

Some of the Pharisees in today’s lesson obviously interpreted Jesus healing the blind man as elective surgery, and therefore in violation of the Law. Jesus was therefore seen as a sinner. But others objected to this interpretation. "How could a man who performed such a miraculous healing possibly be a sinner,?" they asked.

Others denied that such a miracle occurred in the first place, and conducted an investigation, questioning the formerly blind man’s parents. Eventually the debate narrowed down to the witness of the blind man himself. 

And notice what he says says and what he doesn’t say. He doesn’t talk about the Law. He doesn’t talk about theological interpretation. He makes a simple, yet profound assertion: “Whether he is a sinner or not,” said the man, “ I do not know. One thing I do know. I used to be blind and now I see.” But even this plain testimony does not convince the Pharisees, who cannot see past tradition and interpretation, and a rigid understanding of the religious Law. And so they are truly blind, blind to the healing work of Christ in the world.

The blind man is no longer blind. He can see physically and he can see spiritually. He can see because he accepts the great gift of healing which Jesus has given him. He accepts the gift of God’s work on his life.  He isn’t blinded by thickly built up understandings and interpretations.

His faith in Jesus is simple, and it is based on God’s healing work in his life.  When Jesus upholds the faith of children, this is what he speaks about—a simple acceptance of God’s goodness and gifts. There was a book written a few years ago, called “Everything a needed to know I learnt in Kingerdarden”. There ought to be a Christian version of that titled, “ Everything I needed to know about God, I learned in Sunday School.”  And the central lesson of Sunday school is “Jesus loves you”. Everything else we learn on top of that is an expansion of that basic proclamation. What we learn in confirmation, in bible study, in seminary is an examination of God’s love through Jesus and what that means for us.  All sermons are basically the same. All sermons, if they are sermons proclaim the Gospel—the good news of God’s forgiveness and healing.

Doctrine and Dogma are important. Doctrine and Dogma guide and inform, and tell us when we are straying off course in our interpretations. Doctrine and Dogma are therefore tremendous gifts. But in the hands of sinful people, their purpose and role can be distorted. They can form barriers where none should exist. Doctrines about God can become God and blind us to what God is really doing in the world. An elderly pastor I know openly confesses to having been blinded by doctrine. It happened on the praries many years ago. A woman who was suffering with terminal illness came to him, and asked him if he would preside at her funeral. The first question he asked her was if she was baptized. She replied that she was not. He asserted that he could not perform the funeral unless she was baptized. After he said this she left his office in tears. He never heard from her again. He recalls that as his biggest mistake. If he were to go back and have that meeting again, he would have not asked that question. He would have simply listened to her and proclaimed the love and healing of Jesus to her. He was blind but now he sees.

Many people ask the question, “Where is God?” “Where is Jesus?”  “What is God doing in the world?”

It is easy to be blind to the very obvious presence of God in the world and in our lives. It is so easy to be blinded by our own definitions of god, blinded by the conditions we place upon god, blinded by our own sinful aspiration to divinity to miss the real presence of God.

It can be especially difficult for people in the midst of grief to see the work of a loving God. Heartache and numbness can fill our vision. The darkness of death and loss is blinding. But, God’s word illumines the path. God’s Word lights the way with proclamation of eternal promise. Today we heard Psalm 23. It is the most popular of Psalms to be read at funerals and for good reason; for it speaks of God as the great shepherd who guides his sheep through lands of darkness and uncertainty. We may not know where we are going, at times, but God has given us vision—his vision. This kind of vision of ultimate hope and promise is tremendously healing.  It can come in many ways. God has many means to communicate love. Maybe its through the reassurance of a friend, maybe its time spent with family, or the good feeling that comes through a random act of kindness expressed toward another. Maybe its in that still quiet moment on a long walk. Wherever it may come, the vision of God’s love will push back the blinding darkness.

But here are special way, God’s guiding light shines into our lives. God’s word of life speaks to us  and guides us wherever it is proclaimed in truth. And the church has been given a precious gift in the sacraments. Baptism and Communion are not symbols of Christ, they are Christ, physical, and with us. 

It is very sad that many people feel themselves unworthy to receive these most precious gifts. And I ask those folks: Do you have to be well before you receive medicine. No: it is the medicine which makes us well.

Today’s gospel lesson speaks profoundly to Christ’s mission to the world. It is a healing mission. Not only physical healing. It goes deeper than that. It is  a fundamental spiritual healing—healing of our brokenness.  It is a healing which restores wholeness. It is a healing which allows us  to awake and know that God has done something tremendous in our lives, a healing which tells us that our lives are filled with ultimate meaning and purpose, a healing which allows us to know that despite what has come before in our lives, we are wholly loved by God, a healing which allows us to know that we are worth it. It is a healing which allows us to look out into the world and see the world as Christ sees it.  As we continue along the path of our Lenten Journey, let us give thanks for the great gift of Christ’s vision, of Christ’s light, of Christ’s healing. Now may the peace which surpasses all understanding guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

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.

            

Sermon: Epiphany 4, The Theology of the Cross

    1 Corinthians 1: 18-31     Matthew 5:1-12

 To dream is to be human. Some folks dream really big. And at the heart of the human experience there has always been the big dream. This is the dream that has motivated all the idealists the world has ever known. It is the collective dream of humanity. This is the dream of world peace, of abundance for all, of justice, of equality, of healing for all those afflicted with disease. This is the dream of victory, of ultimate victory  against all of those dark forces which oppose life. This dream has motivated all of those idealists we remember—those people who strive for  a new and better world. This dream motivated Dr Salk as he searched and discovered a cure for polio. This dream motivated Dr Martin Luther King jr in his quest for racial equality in the United States. This dream motivated Terry Fox as he embarked upon his pain-staking journey across this nation. This dream has motivated nations to lay down arms, and to form organizations dedicated to world peace.  It has motivated art and literature for centuries. John Lennon’s classic hit, “Imagine” captures well this basic human hunger for a better reality.

            Cynics call this dream world Utopian, which means a place that can never exist, but I think  we can safely conclude that only the darkest of hearts are not in one way or another plugged into this dream. We know that when we hear the outcry against injustice, or the way folks can rally for a good cause. We know that when people donate their money and time  and blood., they are following an aspect of this dream. Just imagine, imagine, waking up to a world where humanity’s greatest dream were realized. Imagine waking up to a news report that said cancer had been cured, there was no crime to report, the people of the poorest nations had been fed, lonliness was eradicated, world peace was achieved, and all human beings sung in perfect harmony, just like in that Coca Cola add which aired over thirty years ago.

            If that type of world emerged overnight, there would be very little doubt that someone or something was behind it all. There would be very little doubt that a loving God was large and in charge. With a world filled with nothing but truth and goodness, there would be no doubt about it: God exists.

            This is the cruel irony of the cross. Jesus Christ came into the world to satisfy the hungry human heart. He was the answer to humanity’s greatest hope—the means by which that great and glorious dream would be realized. How did humanity respond? By murdering him, by hanging him on a cross.

              Just think about it for a second—God arrives in your neighbourhood, and the neighbours respond by getting together and killing him.  And let’s revisit exactly what the cross was. The cross was a cruel instrument of torture and method of execution used by the Romans.  Not only was it physically cruel, it also had tremendous symbolic power. Those hung up on crosses were subjected to incredible humiliation. No one in Greco Roman society would be considered lower than those who were crucified. To the Romans, the cross would be the last place you would ever find a god worthy of the name. The last place you would find divinity manifested is in a suffering human being. The last person a Roman would see God is in the person of a suffering Itinerant Jewish teacher, rejected by the leaders of his won people. 

            But the crucifixtion never would have happened had they known who Jesus truly was. Bu they didn’t expect a god like Jesus. They expected someone mighty, powerful, who would make their world better in an instant, someone who would help them make their biggest dreams come true,--on their terms. Kind of sounds a lot like the kind of God most people in this world expect. Ask people what they envision God to be like, and a man  beaten bloody and utterly shamed hanging from a piece of wood won’t be the first image that comes to mind—at least not if we’re honest with ourselves.  The last place we would look for God is in the cancer ward, the food-bank line, the hospital, the poorest nations of the world. People want a god who is powerful yet loving, a god who gets things done the way want to see things done,  and also a god who gets out of the way when we have better ideas.

            But why would God do it? Why would God allow his only begotten Son to suffer such a horrible fate?  Paul tells us clearly in today’s Epistle reading: to destroy the wisdom of the wise. In other words, to destroy human constructions of God.  For thousands of years humans have been constructing idold, whether they be physical or intellectual. Through the cross, God has smashed all of humanity’s idols. Through the cross, God turned humanity’s expectations on its head. God was crucified. God’s ultimate power was expressed through weakness and vulnerability. It sounded like foolishness then, sounds like foolishness now.

            But if Jesus were left on the cross, the story of God’s entry into the world would be a tragedy. The cross was a means, the resurrection was the end. And here lies the ultimate irony of the cross: through this strange instrument of  torture and death God gave the great and glorious gift of eternal life.  Through death and pain emerged ultimate life.

            But unless you look at the cross through the eyes of faith, all you will see is torture and death and humiliating and shameful defeat. Unless you see the cross through the truth of the gospel, all you will come away with is foolishness.  I recall a scene from a movie some of you might be familiar with called, Saturday night Fever. The John Travolta charcter has a brother, who is a priest, who confesses to his brother that he has lost his faith—that all he sees in the crucifix is a dying man hanging on a cross.

 Faith indeed  is an incredible gift. Faith allows us to see what is hidden to the world. And what is hidden to the world is God’s glorious victory in what appears to be defeat. Faith gives us vision to see God’s glorious plan. You see faith, to us a poor analogy is  kind of like 3D glasses. Without them, the screen will appear dull and fuzzy. But with the glasses, the picture comes alive and jumps out at us. Faith gives us the vision to see things as they truly are. Faith allows us to see what the wisdom of the world is incapable of apprehending of taking in. Faith allows us to see life where the world only sees death.

            Nothing has changed since Paul spoke about the cross to the Corinthians. The world wants nothing to do with what is weak, low, and despised. Over the last forty years the self help movement has become a billion dollar industry, and a whole host of new age gurus have emerged. One such speaker is Wayne Dyer. Wayne Dyer preaches a different message than the cross. In all of his teaching, the corss is avoided in favour of a doctrine of unlimited self improvement. In fact, Dyer, like many other new agers, preach that if you find the right method you can manifest your destiny and achieve divinity. If you find the right method you can become who you want to be and achieve what you want to achieve. Robert Schuller has proclaimed a message of possibility thinking for a long time. Anthony Robbins is a millionare several times over.  People are eager to hear their message. When Wayne Dyer came to town not long ango he sold out the Orpheum theatre, as he has sold out venues across the continent.

            Why is that? Why do people like Anthony Robbins, Wyane Dyer, and Deepak Chopra sell books by the millions and fill theatres, while churches which proclaim Christ crucified struggle? Why is it that people will pay over $200 a ticket to hear Wayne Dyer, yet wouldn’t even consider stepping through the doors of this church?   Simple.The world does not want to hear the message of the cross. Even within Christian churches , a doctrine, a line of preaching has emerged, which leaves the cross out, and says that if you simply believe in Jesus you will be healthy, wealthy, wise, and prosperous. Just give me a method, people cry, just give me a method to improve my life.

            But the cross tells us something different. The cross repudiates all human methods.  The cross deconstructs the human concept of divinity.The cross tells us that God will not be used as a vehicle to achieve our dreams, so  that we may boast. The cross reorients us to God’s plan. The cross reorients our vision so that we can see God’s promise  in and beyond the  suffering of the world. The cross gives us the ability to see life, where the world only sees death.

The cross allows us to read the words of Jesus, and hear what they are truly saying. Because when we read the beatitudes, the statements of blessedness, through worldly eyes they sound like complete and utter foolishness. How could the states of being described ever be thought of as blessed? Blesed are the poor, blessed are the mounrers, blessed are the meek, blessed are the persecuted? From the world’s perspective that doesn’t make sense. But when we read that through the eyes and reality of resurrection, they make total sense.  The word  “blessed” as used is translated from the Greek word “Makarios.” This describes a state of joy, which exists regardless of the circumstances. Happiness comes and goes, but blessednews endures.. Blessedness is rooted in God’s promise for the future. But it’s not just about the future, it is the joy of  living in the kingdom of heaven in the present. But remember, this kingdom is hidden to those who do not see reality through the eyes of faith. To the world, the kingdom which stands under the cross is a kingdom of fools. And just think about all of that foolishness for a moment. Praying aloud, eating bread and drinking wine, believing that its God. Giving money away which could be better spent elsewhere. Giving up a Sunday morning, whib could be spent playin golf or jogging. Add it all up and to many it’s just a bunch of foolish nonsense—and it is, when viewed only through the eyes of the world. But there are those moments when the viel comes off and what is hidden is revealed.

This happens when  the cross smashes to pieces the  illusions of humanity—illusions of power, of success, of divinity.  The last thing people in this world want to hear is that they are not gods, not ultimately in control of their destiny, that they will not live forever, that they are not self sufficient—little gods incharge of their own lives.

            I have been blessed to have participated in hospital ministry. Many people can’t satnd walking into a hospital or exended care, precisely because it brings them face to face with their own powerlessness, vulnerability and mortalisty. And this apprehension is  understandable—medical facilities are places of suffering, places where people die. I have often been asked how I can do, how I can walk into a hospital or extended care—that it must be difficult and unpleasant. This is true, it is. But within this setting, God has shown me life and life in abundance life and to see it in abundance, because God uses the weak to shame the strong.

            But the truth of the matter is that we are all weak—weak in some way. And there is nothing, not anything we could do on our own to please God. But here again lies the irony of the cross. Here again God has acted in a way that defies all human logic and expectation. God has chosen sinners, those who defy him again and again and again, to be his people. This again makes no sense—it cuts against the grain of how we expect a god to behave. We want a God who gives us points for being good, and certainly a god who punished the bad people.  When we think of sainthood we naturally think of someone who has made an outstanding humanitarian achievement. We look to people like Mother Thearessa and Terry Fox and say, yes that looks like a saint to me. So to say that you are saint, that you are justified before the eyes of God, not on the basis of anything you have done just sounds like pure foolishness. People want to claim the victory for themselves.  But no such victory can be claimed. The cross stands inconveniently in the way of all human effort, of all human striving.

            When we proclaim Christ crucified, we will offend people, offend people because  the cross puts to shame all human effort at climbing the mountain to enlightenment. When we proclaim Christ crucified, we proclaim the love of God come into the world in the most unexpected way. When we proclaim Christ crucified we proclaim that humanity’s greatest dream has been realized, but it is hidden. When we proclaim Christ crucified we proclaim the smashing of all gods manufactured by humans—so that the work of the one true God can be seen.

            Today we have gathered to proclaim Christ crucified. The pews aren’t overflowing, folks aren’t lined up to hear this message. By human standards this congregation is not a strong and thriving organization. Being few in number the world would tend to look down on us. At best they might feel sorry for us. But what the world doesn’t see is the power in our gathering, which is the power of the resurrection, the power of the truth.  It is us who should feel sorry for those who scoff and laugh, and are utterly disinterested. They are the ones we should be praying for. And if the world hates us for our proclamation, we should as our Lord tells us, rejoice and be glad. Being small, we are well aware of our vulnerability, and utter dependency on God.  This is the best position to be in—the best position to be in because if we are going to do any boasting, it will  be boasting in the Lord, upon whose mercy and trust we are utterly and totally dependent.   Let us go forth today trusting in the God who has made all things new. The God who has defeated death, the God who has given us our greatest dream and has made it a reality for the future, and has blessed us in the present. Now, may the peace which surpases all understanding guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus, Amen.