Holy Moments

Mark 9:2-9; 2 Kings 2:1-12

Every year at about this time we read of Peter, James and John on the mountain with Jesus. This gospel story is called “the transfiguration,” which is a 15-letter word for that holy moment, that awesome mountaintop experience. They went up the mountain to pray and while they were praying they had a vision of Moses and Elijah, the two greatest prophets, standing with Jesus, while the face of Jesus glowed with the image of the glory of God.
And this text is paired with the story of Elijah’s sweet chariot of fire (the passage that inspired that beautiful gospel hymn), which swept down from the heavens to carry him home to God, while Elijah’s disciple, Elisha, stood watching. These holy moments, recorded in scripture, are brief, as are all holy moments. The moments themselves were probably briefer than the time it takes to read about them. Before Elisha can blink, and before Peter can speak of building monuments, the moment is passed. Elisha picks up Elijah’s mantle and returns the way he came, across the Jordan. Jesus led the disciples down the mountain, and life went on, for all appearances much as before the holy moment.
The holiest moments in life catch us by surprise. The moment the infant, who has been screaming all night, settles into heavy sleep on your chest, and you know you should put her in her crib and go back to bed (and finally get some sleep), but you just don't want to lose that holy moment.
       Or the moment after you've cried all the tears your eyes can produce, after learning of the death of your beloved, when a snippet of truth comes to your inner ear: "I believe that I shall see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living."  And you know that you will not die with your beloved.
       Or the moment of exquisite joy when all your family is gathered around the table and you realize that this is as good as it gets, and it's so much better than you ever imagined. So much better than you could ever ask or imagine.
        What is your holy moment? I invite you to call it to mind.
Was it a night of wonder, under the stars at a campsite in the Boundary Waters?
Was it love at first sight, when you saw your beloved across the crowded college cafeteria?
Perhaps you never thought of it this way before, but I invite you to christen the moment, declare it holy. I believe we are all given holy moments in life that we may know the ecstasy of intimacy with God. Holy moments are a gift, a grace of God.
I suppose that after your holy moment, life continued, much as before. You returned from the wilderness, back to work, back to class, back to laundry and lawn mowing. For all appearances, life goes on. Or does it? In my experience, the holy moments make a difference. They become our touchstone, our treasure buried in a field, our well of living water. We return from these holy moments with strength renewed, well-supplied for the journey of faith that is our life.
How can worship in a sanctuary such as this compare to life’s genuine holy moments? Even the most awesome Christmas Eve service cannot hold a celebratory candle to your personal transfiguration, your mountaintop experience. But worship is what we do to prepare ourselves for those holy moments.
Worship is a reenactment of a history of momentous holiness. Ideally, worship fosters our intimacy with God.
        Ideally. Truthfully, not always. Sometimes worship may feel like one of those weekly chores, like laundry, like shoveling snow, like mowing the lawn. Yes, worship can feel like drudgery. But practice moves us closer to perfection.
        As we enter the season of Lent our order of worship will change, as it does seasonally. The new style of worship may be uncomfortable for you or it may be exactly what you have always wanted worship to be, but whether the one or the other, I encourage you to participate with your heart and mind and soul. Remember that what you may find uncomfortable might just be what one of your brothers or sisters here most needs, to feel closer to God. And remember, that God is full of surprising grace, you might even have a holy moment in church!
        May your life be blessed with these holy moments.

A Journey Toward Healing

12 Feb 2012

2 Kings 5:1-14

    Naaman, the Syrian general, traveled from Damascus to Samaria in search of healing. It was a great distance traveled at great risk and great expense. But he was a great general, and the king that he served was eager to reward his servant with the best medical care that money could buy. Even if it meant sending him into enemy territory.

    Diplomacy is the art of observing ceremony which allows proud and powerful enemies to meet together to achieve some desired end, without either party seeming to compromise. Naaman and his king observed careful diplomacy-- that is what we may gather from the mention of silver and gold and suits of clothing. It is an ostentatious display of wealth to indicate Naaman’s status, and an indication that something equally valuable is expected in exchange.

    The king of Israel is unprepared for the visit, and suspects that Syria’s hidden agenda is war-mongering. Apparently, the king of Israel was completely unaware of the treasure that was his in the person of the prophet Elisha.

    These are the players in the drama: Two kings and a mighty general, men of wealth and power and status, who have everything that money can buy but are powerless to relieve Namaan’s suffering, poor in spirit and ignorant of the man of God, the prophet in Israel. In that beautiful paradoxical way of scripture, it is the slave girl and the other nameless servants who provide what is needed.

    Pride and expectations nearly scuttle the mission. Because Naaman is a commander, a favorite, a victor, a hero—he is used to being treated in a particular way. When the prophet doesn’t even bother to come out of his house—that is simply not the done thing. Enraged, incensed, indignant! Naaman is ready to take his leprosy home to Damascus. It is his servants who stop him.

     If the prophet asked you to do something difficult, you would do it, right? All he said was wash and be clean. How easy is that? Why not try.

     I say the miracle didn’t happen in the Jordan River.

    The miracle happened right there, in front of Elisha’s house. The miracle happened in Naaman’s heart. A proud man, a mighty warrior, the King’s favorite, the victorious hero, humbled himself and took the advice of a servant, and was made new again.

Power and Authority: The Peter Parker Challenge

Mark 1:21-28

Sunday, January 29 

                When Peter Parker woke up the morning after he was bitten by a super-spider, he noticed something had changed. When he became more fully aware of the power he suddenly had, he instinctively used it to do what most teenage boys would do with sudden wealth or strength: get the girl. If you haven’t read the comic or seen the movie, I’m talking about Spiderman, before he became a superhero was a super dweeb. He tried to impress Mary Jane by beating up the school bullies, but she was disgusted. He figured she would respect him if he had a muscle car, so he looked for a way to earn some quick cash as a cage fighter “the Human Spider,” and buy the car of his dreams for the girl of his dreams. But it all went badly wrong.

                The last words his uncle Ben said to him were, “With great power comes great responsibility.” And after Uncle Ben’s death (in the formula typical of super-heroes) he dedicated himself to using his power to benefit the downtrodden and defeated victims of crime in the city.

                In the gospel lesson for today we read of a new power and authority. As the story goes, the people around Jesus are just waking up to the power in their midst. He teaches as one who has authority, not as one of the scribes who just quote the commentaries on the scripture. He teaches as if he has the authority to communicate the will of God. And besides that, he demonstrates a power we have never seen before.

                The gospel is teaching us to be aware of the power in our midst. Annie Dillard once wrote:

                “On the whole, I do not find Christians, outside of the catacombs, sufficiently sensible of conditions. Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews. For the sleeping god may wake someday and take offense, or the waking god may draw us out to where we can never return. ” 

 Are we aware of the power? I think we are. I think we know full well the power of the gospel and the challenge of discipleship. I think it frightens us. Because we are, as a generation, suspicious of power. “Power tends to corrupt; and absolute power corrupts absolutely.” This we believe as if it were gospel, but it isn’t. It’s Lord Acton, a British historian. We witnessed the truth of the truism in the 20^th century, in the first great war to end all wars, and the second great war to end all wars, and all the wars after that. We witnessed it in politics local and global. We have been trained to challenge authority and beware of power.

                But we must remember that we have seen a different kind of power at work in the world as well. The power of nonviolent resistance to violence. The power the united behind Gandhi in India and King in Selma and Birmingham. It’s the same power we see at work in the gospel. The power to cast out the demons of colonial subjugation and racial segregation, the power to cast out the demon of economic, legal and social injustice.

                This is the power in our midst and with great power comes great responsibility.