Sermon on Luke 9:28-36

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

As it often happens, the disciples are confused.

It started as a nice little hike up a mountain, but then some really strange stuff starts happening.

1.     First of all, Jesus starts glowing.

2.     Then, Elijah and Moses show up.

3.     Then, a talking cloud rolls in.

4.     Then, all the strange stuff goes away as quickly as it had appeared.

Like I said, there’s a lot going on here that they don’t understand.

And, honestly, I’ve never really understood this story.

It is truly a weird story. Jesus starts glowing like he’s in a bleach commercial.

Then, he’s talking with the most famous prophets in Jewish tradition—who’ve been dead for a very long time, by the way.

Finally, God’s voice from heaven says to listen to Jesus, like he’s going to make some great proclamation or share some profound teaching, and he doesn’t say anything. And, yeah, it was probably a more general “listen to him,” but it still seems like kind of a letdown after such a dramatic declaration.

It’s always felt like I’ve been missing something here.

But maybe the point of this story isn’t to understand it.

I’ve heard many a literature teacher bemoan students’ desire to “understand” a poem. Poet Billy Collins has a poem about this very problem. It’s called

“Introduction to Poetry”:

I ask them to take a poem

and hold it up to the light

like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem

and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room

and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski

across the surface of a poem

waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they want to do

is tie the poem to a chair with rope

and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose

to find out what it really means.

Maybe what I try to do with the story of the Transfiguration is beat it with a hose to find out what it really means.

In contrast, I love the poetry of T.S. Eliot, even though I don’t understand at least 3/4s of it. I love it because even as I read lines I don’t understand, I suddenly find myself weeping or I’m completely out of breath or my heart is pounding.

I love it, not because I understand it, but because I feel it.

Maybe the point of the story of the Transfiguration is not to understand it, but to feel it.

It’s appropriate that Transfiguration falls in February this year, as it so often does. February is Valentine’s Day, right now Messy Church is focusing on love, and we even got heart-shaped cookies from the stewardship team last week. There’s a lot of love going on this month.

And the story of the Transfiguration is, at its core, a story about love.

About a Liberator who has been proclaiming freedom to captives, good news to the poor, healing to our broken world, and bringing about the Reign of God. Now, Jesus is talking to Moses and Elijah about his “departure,”—the word is related to “exodus,” like the exodus of the Hebrew people from Egypt that God led through Moses. God is, once again, about to set people free. And this time, it’s all of us.

This is the turning point. This is when everything changes. Right before this, Jesus asked his disciples who they thought he was, and Peter got it right—“The Messiah of God.” Now, that belief is being confirmed, and the next step for Jesus is to undergo the death and resurrection he knows he is about to endure. And he does it because of love.

The hosts of the podcast Nerds at Church pointed out that there’s a difference between “transfiguration” and “transformation.” Transformation suggests a total change—inside and out. Transfiguration is only an “outside” change. Inside, Jesus is still the same. At his core, he is love. He is God’s Chosen. And everything he does is for the sake of those whom he chooses out of love: us—all of humanity.

In this story about love, we see our Jesus in all his magnificence: glowing, surrounded by revered figures of faith, with the voice of God declaring Jesus’ authority from the heavens. And the disciples are totally confused. In fact, they won’t say anything about this to anyone until things start to make more sense.

I, too, still find a lot of details in this story perplexing. But I also know that if I think I understand everything about God, then I am stuffing God into a box of my own making. One of the wonderful things about God is that there is so much we don’t understand—so much we get to learn and question and grow in understanding about.

The wisest people I know are the first to admit what they don’t understand. They have a healthy humility about their limits and the limitlessness of God.

When we come across things we don’t understand, we can be like Peter and try to find a solution, try to find something to do so that we don’t have to wrestle with the mystery any longer.

Or, we can abide in wonder at the dazzling, perplexing works of our God who loves us more than we can ever fully grasp.

The same God who freed the Hebrew people from Egypt freed you through the cross and empty tomb. All out of love for you.

Imagine Jesus saying this to you: “You are free, because I love you.”

When we remember that at the core, God is love, we can embrace the mysteries of faith, even sometimes frustrating ones like the Transfiguration. We don’t have to try to torture a confession out of it. We don’t have to figure out every detail. We don’t have to follow Peter’s example and try to come up with something to “do” in reaction to this story.  

We can simply allow ourselves to be loved, just as we are.

We can revel in being loved by our Creator, who made us good, who loves us no matter what.

We can rest in the infinite mysteries of our Liberator, who died on the cross and rose again because he loves us so much.

At its core, the story of the Transfiguration is about love.

And at your core, you are loved.

Forever and ever. Amen.

First Lutheran Church

February 20, 2022

The Seventh Sunday after Epiphany C

Genesis 45:3-11, 15Then Joseph said to his brothers, “Come closer to me.” And they came closer. He said, “I am your brother, Joseph, whom you sold into Egypt. And now do not be distressed, or angry with yourselves, because you sold me here; for God sent me before you to preserve life. For the famine has been in the land these two years; and there are five more years in which there will be neither plowing nor harvest. God sent me before you to preserve for you a remnant on earth, and to keep alive for you many survivors. So it was not you who sent me here, but God; he has made me a father to Pharaoh, and lord of all his house and ruler over all the land of Egypt. Hurry and go up to my father and say to him, ‘Thus says your son Joseph, God has made me lord of all Egypt; come down to me, do not delay. You shall settle in the land of Goshen, and you shall be near me, you and your children and your children’s children, as well as your flocks, your herds, and all that you have. I will provide for you there—since there are five more years of famine to come—so that you and your household, and all that you have, will not come to poverty.’ ” … And he kissed all his brothers and wept upon them; and after that his brothers talked with him.

Luke 6:27-38[Jesus said:] “But I say to you that listen, love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt. Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again. Do to others as you would have them do to you.

“If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them. If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same. If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again. But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked. Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

“Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven; give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap; for the measure you give will be the measure you get back.”

Sermon

“To Give and Forgive”

Pastor Greg Ronning

Brothers and sisters rarely have perfect relationships.  But can you imagine being sold into slavery by your brothers and sisters?  Can you imagine the pain involved in such a rejection?  One minute you’re part of a family, and the next minute you're being plotted against by those in the family with power and strength over you.  First, they throw you down a well and then they sell you to a passing caravan headed to Egypt.  This is the story of Joseph and his brothers as found in the book of Genesis.

Then imagine that years later you run into those same family members and now they're weak and in trouble, and you have all the power.  What do you do?  Do you get even?  Do you reject them?  Does your broken heart grow hard and seek its revenge? Or are you able to open your broken heart and invite these people inside?  Well, no one would blame you if you closed your heart and walked away.  A jury of your peers would never convict you, in fact a jury would probably side with you and award you compensation for physical and emotional damage.  Your brothers and sisters could all be locked up in jail where they belong;- and justice would be done.  

Yet this is the story of Joseph, an amazing person who, I suspect, sees things very differently than you and I. His response is not the natural and easy one.  Instead of revenge, he chooses to give and to forgive, to share his wealth, privilege, and power, giving them all the things that they need to survive.  Those who left him for dead, now receive the gift of life from the brother they hated so much that they sold him into slavery.  Joseph goes even farther, he chooses to open up his heart and invite those who threw him out, - into his life. 

Joseph sees and understands things differently.  His transformed heart is in control of his fallen mind. In this moment when most of us would see the opportunity for “karma,” the opportunity for payback; Joseph sees the presence of God. And from that perspective, in the opportunity to extend grace and mercy he finds his destiny, the hand of God In loving those who hated him he finds meaning and purpose.  It's an amazing story.  Joseph is an extra-ordinary human.  Giving and forgiving, he is able to stretch beyond the limitations of our broken humanity and live out the powerful love of God. 

As I reflect on the story, I would like to see myself as Joseph, but I must confess that I act more like his brothers.  I am unable to share with others, I am jealous of others, I am threatened by my neighbor, and I am ,more times than not concerned primarily only with myself.  I'm afraid to live like Joseph, to give and forgive, freely and abundantly.  I see myself and my resources as limited.  I can't afford to live like Joseph, giving and forgiving on such grand scales.        

Then comes today's Gospel reading.  If Joseph's giving and forgiving seems “unreal” to me, what am I to do with the teachings of Jesus?  The story of Joseph only implies what God might want in certain situations.  But in today's Gospel Jesus is so specific.  And these words scare me.  These words are a complete reversal of the values that I need to survive in the world that I know, the world in which I must live.  How can I give till I have nothing?  How can I love the unlovable?  How can I turn the other cheek?  How can I love my enemy?  Such giving and forgiving is beyond “unreal,” it seems absurd.  

Yet the story of Joseph and the words of Jesus won't go away.  And even if they did, the same words can be found throughout the scriptures, radical giving and forgiving is all over the place.  And they haunt me.  I can't just put them on a nice "Christian poster" and hang them on my wall.  I can't "spiritualize" them .I can’t separate them from my economy. I can't show up to serve at the Pantry and not know what they really mean.  My heart longs to be extraordinary in my giving and forgiving, my heart longs to practice the radical discipleship that Christ sets before me, my heart is ready to follow, but my fallen mind finds a way to hold back. 

What is your heart saying to you when you hear the call to give and forgive? Is it beating faster in anticipation of the Kingdom?  What is your mind saying to you when you hear the call to give and forgive?  Is it in panic mode, survival mode, trying to shut down the longings of the heart before they get you into trouble?  Is it busy trying to rationalize the hard questions of faith away?  Is it seeking to pull the discussion back into the realm of the human condition - scarcity; and out of the realm of the endless abundance found in the Kingdom of God?    

Perhaps our primary task today is to simply try to shut down that fallen part of our minds, the part of us that is afraid.  That part that clings to “the way things are,” that part that seeks to limit us to the fate of being ordinary.  Perhaps if we can do that, shut down out fallen mind, even for just a little while, we can find that place in our heart where Christ dwells with that abundant and extravagant holy imagination that belongs to the Kingdom of God.  And from this extra-ordinary place, the seat of our faith, we can begin to become more like Joseph, more giving and more forgiving, more like Christ.

In today’s appointed epistle lesson from First Corinthians, (which we did not read this morning,)St. Paul reminds that the life of faith is like the life of a seed, “What you sow does not come to life unless it dies.”  The seed of our faith, the hopes of our hearts, the hopes of the Kingdom, must be planted in the death and resurrection of Christ.

The seed alone can't do much, as it is, it cannot feed the hungry, clothe the naked, nor shelter the homeless.  As it is, it is small and insignificant.  Yet within this seed is the power and potential to feed, clothe, and shelter.  If we plant the seed, burry it, and let it die; it will grow into wheat and fruit that can feed; cotton that can clothe; even a mighty redwood that can provide shelter.  All this is possible, is only possible, if we let go of the seed and plant it in the earth.  We need to bury it and let it die in order for it to be transformed into new life. If we miss this crucial truth about the seed nothing will ever happen.

If your heart is ready, eager and longing, begin planting today. Yet don't leave here this morning expecting to be able to forgive everyone everything, don’t leave here expecting to be able to give all you have to the poor.  Don't try to plant all your seeds at once.  Walk with God and plant one seed at a time, begin to stretch your limits as you would begin to exercise.  Build upon your planting, each seed planted and transforming into new life, will give you the strength to plant the next one.  

Begin where you are, with a small act of forgiveness, give some food to the Pantry.  (You may have already done that last Sunday!)  Plant a seed of your time by serving as a volunteer. Plant a seed of your resources by making a donation to an organization that serves those in need.  You have lots of seeds, lots of faith, hope and love. Just keep planting them, one by one; row by row, and before you know it you will have helped create a rich and abundant garden filled with peace, strength, purpose, and resources for the kingdom.  A garden of giving and forgiving. 

God loves you, trust the seed that is your life to the death and resurrection of Christ. Let go of your fears, trust in your hopes and the dreams of the kingdom; give and forgive, show mercy, be graceful.  For what you sow will come to life, an extraordinary life that makes a difference, “thy kingdom come, thy will be done.”  Amen.

Emptied To Be Filled

Pr. Jasmine Waring

Epiphany 6 February 13, 2022

Jesus’ sermon on the plain according to the Gospel of Luke is as simple as it is challenging. In Matthew’s account, for example, Jesus speaks of the poor in spirit, or those who hunger and thirst for righteousness. Luke, the former physician, uses Jesus’ words like a surgeon’s knife, cutting to the naked truth: Blessed are the poor, the hungry, those who weep, and those who are hated. The inverse is just as blunt and challenging as the first: woe to the rich, full, those who are laughing, and those who are loved. I don’t know about you, but I feel especially uncomfortable with this passage because life is pretty good for me right now. I have an abundance of food in my kitchen (and in the drawers of my office), I have enough money to pay my bills and have some extra. Despite all the horrible things that are happening in our world today, I have joy and laugh often. From what I can tell, I am generally loved by the people around me (we’ll see how many valentines I get tomorrow). Is all of this wrong? For people with privilege, we have a hard time hearing passages like these because it sounds like God is judging us. These passages have also been used to justify redemptive suffering, believing that God wants us to be poor and hungry and sad and hated. Or worse, not caring for the poor and hungry, because Jesus said they’re blessed. Who are we to interrupt God’s blessing? The problem is, our interpretation of the words blessing and woe have been misunderstood. We have interpreted woe as cursed, or as a judgement. If we look at the original Greek, woe is an expression of grief, and it is meant to be an interjection like, “Woah! Woah! Woah! Slow down!” it is a warning, not a curse. It is like Jesus is saying, “Beware of the delicate balance your life is in when things are good.” The word blessing in this text does not only mean happy, but also means satisfied, envied, on-track, even respectable. This is contrary to a common understanding back then that has crept into our understanding today, which is if things are going wrong in your life, you are doing something wrong and God is punishing you. It is very clear that Jesus is pointing out that God has a preferential option for the poor. Not only are the poor and needy not being judge by God, but are in fact ought to be envied and respected. Why? Because when you have absolutely nothing to lose, you make room for God it act. Does this mean that we out to purposely seek out trouble and suffering in order to be close to God? No! We see at the beginning of the reading today that Jesus’ ministry is all about alleviating suffering, and challenges us to alleviate the suffering of others. Jesus came so that we would have an abundant life. We tend to put ourselves within this blessing and woe binary, and trying to scoot our way in the more favorable side. Notice that Jesus is not addressing two groups of people, nor is he making any judgements. Jesus is just stating the facts, naming what has always been true of the human experience: we all experience seasons of blessings and woes in our lives, and it is all temporary. There are seasons when we are poor, and seasons when we are rich. In a world with bust and boom economies, Bitcoins, and stock market fluctuations, we ought to ask ourselves, where is our source found? Or rather in whom is our resource found? The prophet in Jeremiah warns Israel not to put their trust in mere mortals. We need to beware of complacency and the belief that it is by solely our own efforts we have all that we do, and forget about the grace of God that allows us to obtain wealth. I find it interesting when Jesus says, “Blessed are the poor,” he doesn’t say, “for one day you will be rich”. Instead, he says, “for yours is the kingdom of God”. If the kingdom of God is a world within a world where we can experience abundance and liberation, then we are blessed, envied, even respectable in seasons of poverty because we experience God’s abundance found in beloved community. There is a beautiful and precious gift that comes when we are humbled, and receive the generosity from our loved ones and from the stranger. This gift is more valuable than any of the riches of the world. There are seasons when we are hungry, and seasons when we are full. Debie Thomas writes in Journey with Jesus, “We invite blessing every time we find ourselves empty and yearning for God, and we invite woe every time we retreat into smug and thoughtless self-satisfaction. When I am “full” of anything but God, God “empties” me. Not as punishment, but as grace. Not as condemnation, but as loving reorientation. When I am bereft, vulnerable, and empty in the world’s eyes, God blesses me with the fullness of divine mercy and kindness”. In seasons of fullness, we ought to ask ourselves, “What am I filled with?” We can be so easily distracted and filled with things that eventually lull us to sleep into complacency, having no need for God to move in my life for motivate me to serve my neighbor. When we are emptied, we are blessed, envied, even respectable because there is more room for us to be filled with God’s love, peace, and justice. There are seasons of weeping, and seasons of laughter. I think it’s safe to say, after we all have been through, we know that we don’t need to go out and look for trouble or suffering…life does a pretty good job doing that for us. I actually find this pairing very comforting. Somewhere along the way growing up, I got the message that sadness and anger were not acceptable emotions. In many Christian circles, weeping and being sad was nearly a sin because it shows that you are lacking in faith. This is what we call spiritual bypassing, when we use toxic positivity to dismiss people’s very painful reality and don’t do anything to change it. I felt that I always had to have a positive attitude and cheer people up. I had to be an emotional buoy for the people around me, at the expense of my own feelings. So when Jesus says that we are blessed, envied, even respectable when we are weeping, it gives me permission to go down into the depths of all my feelings. I can notice them, name them, let the feeling ride out it’s course throughout my body, and let it be my teacher. What a blessing it is to experience the depths of the human experience. There are seasons when we are hated, and seasons when we are loved. I think we all know by now that we can’t please everyone. Which is difficult for me, because I want everyone to like me! Jesus tells us to beware of when everyone speaks well of you, because that is what their ancestors did to the false prophets who told them what they wanted to hear, instead of telling them what God wanted them to hear. Sometimes doing or saying the right thing can lead to seasons of emptiness, weeping, and hate. February is Black History month, and I am also taking a Race and Protestantism class this term, so I have read a lot about the Civil Rights movement and especially about Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Dr. King is an American hero now, politicians, activists and preachers quote him all the time, and in some ways tame him…using his “I have a dream” speech and calls to love and unity. What we tend to forget that he was called an extremist by many, even having his phone tapped by the FBI. His harshest criticisms were not pointed to the KKK but to the white moderate, to those who chose to be silent in the face of justice. At one point. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was the most hated man in America. So much so, he was assassinated. Blessed, enviable, even respectable are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day, for surely your reward is great in heaven. If blessings and woes happen to all of us in seasons, and it’s all temporary, then the real question is, what is your life grounded in? The apostle writes to the church in Philippi in Philippians chapter 4:11-13, “…for I have learned to be content with whatever I have. I know what it is to have little, and I know what it is to have plenty. In any and all circumstances I have learned the secret of being well-fed and of going hungry, of having plenty and in need. I can do all things through him (Christ) who strengthens me.” It is the power of Christ, in his death and resurrection, we find strength in weakness. When we are vulnerable and at the end of our rope, the power of Christ kicks in and is his glory can shine through. As we enter into Lent in a couple of weeks, let us allow ourselves to be emptied so that we may be filled again, knowing that death is not the end. As seasons come and go… May you be aware of the delicate balance your life is in when things are going good, and enjoy it for all it is. May you be blessed, envied, even respected when you are poor, hungry, weeping, and hated, for Christ is near and made strong in your weakness. And may grace and peace be with you every step of the way. Amen.