Sermon (Fr. Peay) February 18, 2018

“He was in the wilderness forty days, tempted by Satan; and he was with the wild beasts; and the angels waited on him.”

 

Oddly enough, I think the human condition is to be found in that verse from Mark describing Jesus’ sojourn in the wilderness. We’re somewhere between beasts and angels and are tested (which is another way to render the Greek word translated here as ‘tempted’). Existentialist philosophers will tell us that the essence of our human condition is our search for meaning. This search is echoed in something Richard Holloway, the head of the Episcopal Church in Scotland, said in his interesting book Looking Into the Distance: “We find ourselves as conscious beings in an apparently unconscious universe and wonder what it means. We know quite a lot about how we came about, but there is no satisfactory answer as to why we came about.” [p. 5]   So, the human condition is searching, whether for our proper place in the order of things, for meaning, for whatever. It seems that human beings are always looking.

I think that it goes back to the reality of our creation in the image (eikon) and likeness (omoiosis) of God. As a result we humans received by creation a way of existing resembling that of the persons (hypostases) of the Holy Trinity. Saint Augustine would remind us that we’re walking proof of the Trinity, since we’re tripartite beings made in the image and likeness of  the Triune God, so we’re body, mind and spirit. So, made in this way, we’re also searching for relationship. Because our basic nature desires community, socialization, call it what you will. We search because we need each other. We may have individuality, but that individuality is precisely what also allows us to live in community. The very goal of existence – at least the reason that God created us – is for communion, for relationship. I believe that’s why our human condition is searching and why we’re constantly testing ourselves and others – even God – along the way.

Lent is the season of the Church’s year that calls us to a time of self-examination and realistic assessment. These original forty days of purpose – as I like to call them – allow us to see where we are in our spiritual journeys and to see where we are in our relationships. Once we’ve taken stock, once we’ve centered ourselves, then we can do something about it.

Now, if we’re really honest with ourselves we’ll realize that deep-down inside us we really want to seek our own way. We often build up a belief system that allows us to follow what we want and not worry so much about what God or other people want, which is one of the reasons why it seems so hard to live out the Christian faith. We saw an example this week in the 18th school shooting in this new year down in Florida – someone searching for his own way, his own satisfaction, and with no concern for others.

The contemporary spiritual writer Beatrice Bruteau summarizes some of the beliefs we develop in her article, “Following Jesus into Faith.” She writes, identifying these beliefs: “’Health and beauty, money and power are necessary for happiness.’ ‘I am identified by my body, personality, and possessions.’ ‘My welfare is more important than yours.’ ‘No one willingly gives up power.’ ‘The world is here for us to exploit.’ ‘No one can be trusted.’ ‘There have to be winners and losers.’ ‘They hurt me, so I must get even.’ ‘I can’t feel good about myself unless I’m better than somebody.’ ‘Some people are supposed to dominate other people.’ ‘If everyone were good, life would be boring.’” [The Journal of Christian Healing 1988, p. 24]          

The tragedy of these systems we build is that they are so often unconscious ones. We’re not aware that we’re acting out of those beliefs – and there are others, to be sure – which keep us from living the life God made us to live. That’s why Lent is such an important time, because we’re a bit more mindful, more conscious or aware of the ‘hows’ and ‘whys’ of our behaviors. Classical Christian spirituality involved examining the conscience daily. Stepping back each day and looking at what we’ve done, how we’ve behaved and what our motives were. If we’re careful to do this, very often we can trace back our actions to one of these unconscious beliefs, or motivators. Once we become aware of them, hold them up to the light of the Way that God made us to walk and wants us to walk, we can get back on course. Sort of like that little voice when I use the navigator function on my cell phone, “you are now off-course.”  The informed Christian conscience is supposed to serve that function for us.

God built this conscience, this way of staying on-course into us. As Teilhard de Chardin the controversial Roman Catholic twentieth century paleontologist/theologian said, “We’re not human beings having a spiritual experience. We’re spiritual beings having a human experience.”  God demonstrated God’s willingness to renew the earth and humanity in dealing with Noah. What God extends to Noah is unconditional love and the human conscience is to be formed by and informed by that same kind of love.

The true goal of human life, the remedy for our human condition of seeking is found in that promise and in keeping it. God’s promise – early on – is “I am with you.” The remedy for the human condition is found in that promise of relationship, communion, with God – the Other – and with others. We’re to keep the promise by the way we live toward God and toward one another.

It’s that simple and that complex. It’s been right there in front of us all along, but we go looking, because that’s our condition. There’s a wonderful Hasidic Jewish story that speaks to this.

“There was a poor rabbi who lived in the city of Krakow. He lived on the street of the Lost Angel, in the last hovel on that street, with his wife and his four children. Since he was extremely poor, he dreamed every night of riches. But one night the dream was exceptionally vivid. He dreamt that underneath a bridge in the city of Warsaw there was a treasure. When he awoke in the morning, he excitedly told his wife and his children about his dream. He then packed food and clothes, and set off for the long journey to find that bridge, unearth the treasure, and be rich. He traveled many long days and long nights and finally arrived at Warsaw. It was just as the dream had pictured it, except for one thing. There was a guard on the bridge, a sentinel who paced back and forth. And so the poor rabbi, tired from his journey, fell asleep in the bushes. When he awoke, he rattled the bushes with his arm, and the guard spun on him: ‘You there, come here!’ He was a simple man so he did not run. He sheepishly came forward. The guard said, ‘What are you doing here?’ Being a simple man who would not run, he was a simple man who would not lie. He said, ‘I have dreamed that underneath this bridge there is a treasure, and I have traveled many long miles to find that treasure and be rich.’ The guard said, ‘That is strange! Just last night I, too, have had a dream. I have dreamt that in the city of Krakow, on the street of the Lost Angel, in the last hovel on that street, where lives a rabbi and his wife and their four children there is buried behind the fireplace a treasure. And I leave tonight to find it and be rich.’”

Look close to home to find the remedy to the human condition. Look to your relationship with God and with those around you. We need to remember that God is always close to us, we’re the ones who are far away. God, in Christ, left us the sacraments of Baptism and Eucharist as means of grace, constant reminders of our communion with God. Every time we come to this table, every time we receive these simple elements of bread and cup we’re reincorporated – re-embodied – into communion with the living God through the living Christ. In the sacrament of the table the Lord says to us again and again what Jesus heard, that we are God’s children – God’s son, God’s daughter – and that God is well pleased with us.

We don’t need to search, the answer is there -- the answer is here – in us, as individuals and as community. What Jesus preached on that long-ago day Mark records still holds true: “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” How then, dear ones, shall we live?

Sermon (Fr. Peay) Ash Wednesday 2018

“Ring around the rosy, pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down.”

When we hear that simple little rhyme that goes along with a child’s game the last thing that comes into our mind is a devastating plague. But, as we all quickly discover, looks can be deceiving. It is thought that this rhyme dates back to the time of the bubonic plague; the ‘ring around the rosy’ described the bubo, or lesion that developed as a symptom. Ashes spoke of the almost certain death for one so afflicted and the truth that, eventually, “we all fall down.” Morbid? No. It’s an attempt to overcome devastation and panic in the face of something we can’t control. It’s a means, like comedy or any number of things we use, to try to manage our rather unmanageable world.

                Now when I think of that rhyme my mind goes back to September 11, 2001 and the billowing, choking clouds of dust and ash that came from those devastated buildings. Ashes, ashes, all fall down. Annie Dillard captures something of the mood and spirit that sometimes overtakes us when we confront the ashes of our world.

Ashes, ashes, all fall down. How could I have forgotten? Didn’t I see the heavens wiped shut just yesterday, on the road walking? Didn’t I fall from the dark of the stars to these senselit and noisome days? The great ridged granite millstone of time is illusion, for only the good is real; the great ridged granite millstone of space is illusion, for god is spirit and worlds his flimsiest dreams: but the illusions are almost perfect, are apparently perfect for generations on end, and the pain is also, and undeniably, real. The pain within the millstones’ pitiless turning is real, for our love for each other – for the world and all the products of extension – is real, vaulting, insofar as it is love, beyond the plane of the stones’ sickening churn and arcing to the realm of spirit bare. And you can get caught holding one end of a love, when your father drops, and your mother; when a land is lost, or a time, and your friend blotted out, gone, your brother’s body spoiled, and cold, your infant dead, and you dying: you reel out love’s long line alone, stripped like a live wire loosing its sparks to a cloud, like a live wire loosed in space to longing and grief everlasting.

 Dillard’s words are powerful, but as she reels out the line she forgets that the one whose dream is our reality is also the source of love and waits for us. Out of the ashes of sorrow, of disappointment, when things seem gritty and ground to dust, that’s when we send out a line to God who catches it and who knows, because God cared enough to become one of us. Looks can be deceiving and God can come in ways we can’t even begin to imagine.

                Did you know that the World Trade Center held millions of dollars in gold down in its deep vaults? There were also millions of dollars in jewels there as well. In the midst of all those ashes, there was treasure. So it is with our lives. Gold gleams inside us in our will to do the right and to be loving people. The light dances on the jewels of our hopes and dreams. And the gold and jewels within us glitters even when they’re shrouded in ashes.

                Sometimes ashes indicate that something’s been reduced to it essential nature. Perhaps we need the ashes to remind us that things aren’t what they seem, that looks can often be deceiving and that God can do wonders in the midst of the ashes of our lives. Perhaps, too, we need those ashes to remind us of who we are and of what we’re made, so that we can get on with the business of growing into what we’re destined to become – united with God.

                Lent is a season of reflection, reconsideration, stocktaking, and priority making. Use the season to find the treasure of your heart – that is your heart. Use it to discover that things aren’t what they seem and that those ashes might just be concealing a treasure or be fertilizer for the next stage of your growth. Walk with Christ the path of the Passion and see the eternal now become present to you.

            You see, Lent is more than “give ups;” there are take ups, too. Taking up a renewed commitment to live our lives toward God and away from fear, or hurt, or jealousy can make for a holy Lent. For that matter, learning to realize, as Sam Wells has so brilliantly shown in his book GOD’S COMPANIONS, that we are to realize the abundance we have and not be constantly thinking that everything is scarce. Taking up the right attitude, the attitude that looks to God and others, and away from self, can make all of the difference in how we live, but also in how we feel. Taking up the opening of the treasures of our lives to the world around us

            Taking up a spiritual discipline for the 40 days of Lent can tune us up and make our lives more effective witnesses to the love of God, which this whole season is about. Lent calls us to be a bit more systematic in our daily prayer and Bible reading, or in attending services of worship. We have a tremendous heritage in the Anglican tradition, the BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER. We don’t need a lot of special books on reading the Bible and prayer – use the Prayer Book. The offices of Morning and Evening Prayer are designed to plunge us into Scripture. If you do the Psalms as they are set up in the BCP you’ll do all 150 every month. Working through the assigned readings will take you through the Old Testament once and the New Testament twice in the year. All by taking just a few minutes morning and evening to step aside and give some intentional time to God. Add to that doing an intentional “good deed” and we may set the stage for a whole new way of seeing ourselves and those around us. 

Putting our lives into the midst of God’s life is far more important than making a tick next to successfully avoiding chocolate for 40 days. After all, as the great father of the early Church, Irenaeus told us, “God’s glory, human beings fully alive.” Truly, God GLORIES in us, that’s why Jesus came among us. Lenten discipline is designed to make up more fully alive to God. The ashes we will receive are signs of a renewed commitment to be God’s people, and to follow Christ’s way. Out of ashes good things can rise.

                Ashes can be deceiving, indeed. I was in New York and saw a new building that rose where the World Trade Center stood.  A single, taller, tower marks the spot and life continues afresh. “Ring around the rosy, pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes we all fall down.” Ah, but for the Christian we discover that there is a different end to the rhyme. We may fall down, but we get up. We are a Resurrection people. Have a blessed and fruitful Lent.

 

Sermon (Fr. Peay) February 11, 2018

“And he was transfigured before them.”

 

            The dictionary tells us that to be transfigured means “to give a new and typically exalted or spiritual appearance to: transform outwardly and usually for the better.” Mark’s Gospel recounts the transfiguration of Jesus, his new, exalted spiritual appearance, in terms of his garments: “his garments became gleaming.” The garments reflect the glory of the one who wears them, in other words, what is happening is that the glory of Jesus, the God-man, has been hidden from view right up unto this moment and now begins to come out, to be uncovered and in a spectacular way. The Greek word Mark uses here means to gleam, to glitter, to glisten, and it’s the only time it’s used in the New Testament. The light, the glory that has been unseen – save in the glimpses of his teaching and actions – comes out in full force and it overawes Peter, James and John.

            Some scholars look at this passage and see Mark taking a post-Resurrection experience and moving it back in the narrative. One can’t argue that the transfigured Jesus comes off a great deal like the Resurrected Lord in this passage. However, I, surprise, surprise, hold on to the traditional view that this is a moment of foreshadowing, a moment in which the Lord is fully-revealed to his disciples to prepare them for the horrors of the Lord’s passion and death. This moment, on the mountain, is a foretaste of the glory so that they can endure and hold-on through the events that lie ahead of them. Why do I think that, well let’s look at the text.

            Jesus is joined by two important figures Elijah and Moses. Both of these great prophets suffered because of their faithfulness to God, both of them endured great hardship so that the people of God might be kept in the right path in their journey toward God. It makes perfect sense that these two figures – traditionally thought to represent the Prophets and the Law – come to consult with Jesus as he is preparing to go to Jerusalem and to the cross. What is meant for us to understand here is that in Jesus we encounter the fulfillment of God to the people of Israel, the Law and the Prophets find their realization in the person and the work of Jesus.

            While they’re speaking Jesus is overshadowed by a cloud. The Hebrew Scriptures, the Old Testament, are loaded with references to clouds, which symbolize God’s glory and power. It also doesn’t hurt for us to remember that, in addition, the cloud symbolizes both hope and life. Why? Because in Palestine it rains only from October to April, the cloud is the sign of the rains that will insure the continuation of life itself. So the cloud reminds us that God is the author of life and the ground of our hope. This God speaks and says that those who would know life and hope must learn to do something – listen. God says “This is my beloved Son, listen to him.” Don’t argue, don’t theorize, don’t balk, don’t anything – listen. Perhaps that is one of the points that we need to take away from this recounting of transfiguration: that we’re to become a listening – and thus an obedient people. Because the root of the word obedience means to “to listen” and when we listen deeply we respond appropriately.

            I guess if we’re going to describe this event, we’re looking at a Christophany. We’re looking at the manifestation, the self-revelation of who Jesus really is and in that moment there’s a connection. That’s what Paul is saying in his writing to the church at Corinth, “For it is the God who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” God, in Christ, is giving us a glimpse of the inward light to which all of us are called and in which all of us share. This is the reality of the image and likeness of God in which we were created. The difficulty is, however, that we have lost the likeness while we retained the image, and that is why it’s difficult for us to see God at work in us or in the world around us. It’s the reason why God became one of us, in Jesus the Christ, so that we might be restored to the wholeness God intended for us to have.

            John Shea does a great job in summarizing how the late twentieth century Swiss theologian Paul Tillich described the human situation. Shea writes: “Paul Tillich described sin as a state of estrangement comprised of three interlocking factors: In unbelief people turned away from their grounding in God. This left them isolated and turned in on themselves in hubris. This hubris [exaggerated pride or self-confidence] unfolded into a panicky concupiscence [to desire strongly], in which people tried to pull the world into themselves to fill the hole that was created when they turned away from God. Unbelief, hubris, and concupiscence were the deep dynamics of the countless individual sin people commit.”

            Now, think for a moment about life in the world around us. Think about the situation we find ourselves in politically. Do you think that, just maybe, what we’re seeing is the result of the behaviors we saw in Shea’s summary of Tillich? Could it be that our society has so trivialized the concept of sin – turning it into all of the little misdemeanors people have been whacked with for years – that we’ve forgotten that the real sin is the covering of the Divine spark within us through selfishness and self-centeredness?

            When Jesus was transfigured, when the glory in him made his garments glitter, it wasn’t for him – it was for us. To use John’s language, the Light shone in the darkness so that we could see, so that we could come to a new understanding of ourselves in relationship to God and in relationship to each other. The whole point of Jesus work among us is so that we can understand that the light in us isn’t supposed to stay hidden under a bushel, but is to be put out on a lampstand so that others can benefit from the light. The light is inward, but it radiates OUTWARD.

            I came across a wonderful book on the spirituality of Meister Eckhart by Cyprian Smith. It’s called The Way of Paradox: Spiritual Life As Taught by Meister Eckhart. Eckhart’s point, Smith says, is that we come to God so that we can then understand the world around us. The light of God is supposed to be in us so that we can then see and live as God would have us live, in tune with God and with all of creation. Smith writes: “It is possible for human beings, living, thinking, and acting in God, to think, see, and do, as God does. Instead of standing within the created world, looking in it for signs of a God who is outside it, we stand within God, and it is the world which now appears outside. When we stand within the world, God appears as totally transcendent and ‘other.’ When we stand within God, however, it is the world which appears as ‘other,’ but not by any means transcendent; on the contrary, we are greater than it. It appears as a pale and imperfect reflection of the dazzling and brilliant Truth in which we are living and making our home.” That truth – dazzling and brilliant – is our life caught up in and transfigured by the life of Christ, living in us.

            Jesus was transfigured before them, and by extension, us, so that we might benefit and learn that we’re to benefit others. God has restored to us, in Christ, the fullness of our humanity. God has brought the Divine spark in us to the level of flame. The point of the inward light is that it is to radiate outward, it is to light the world and the way to the common good, which brings us into God.

            Each day we – you and I – are to bring the mountain-top down to the everyday. The glitter and gleam of the moment of transfiguration is to come into a world that is alienated, broken and hurting and living in darkness. You and I, Christians, ordinary human beings touched by the presence of God through the Holy Spirit, we are the means by which that inward light radiates outward. We work and grow in the spiritual life not so that we can achieve enlightenment or come to a higher state, or know come to some superior spiritual position. For Christians to be self-centered spiritually is to miss the point, rather we seek, we grow, we work to have in us the mind of Christ, to be in God so that we can embrace, heal, renew and transform this world in which we live.

            Bottom line, what that requires is that we move away from self-focus and move to focus on God in Christ and then outward from there. We do this by practicing the spiritual disciplines – and you can learn more about those all during the Sundays of Lent as I teach a class on Being God’s People -- but suffice it to say, it begins with taking the time to pray, to get into God’s Word, and then to practice our faith through living in an unselfish manner. Jesus was transfigured before them and the inward light radiated outward…..the inward light, in you and in me, needs to shine – so let it.