Mathematicians
spend time trying to solve unsolvable problems. The theory behind this practice
is that it makes them better mathematicians, by working toward the
unsolvable—it hones their craft…
Perhaps
this is why the Transfiguration exists.
An
impossible story upon which Pastors can hone our craft, sharpen our tongue,
become better preachers.
Knowing,
from the beginning that preaching about the Transfiguration is an impossible
task…
Let us pray,
So,
knowing I’m about to fail, here’s the deal.
Peter’s
words, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings,” speaks
to two halves of the human experience.
“It’s
good for us to be here,” speaks to those who are Spiritual, but not Religious—those who seek the high of Divine
experience—a prophetic frenzy, without the moorings of buildings and tradition,
and more disastrously community—so the divine, at best, sparks and sputters
out, leaving only a shadow behind.
“Let
us make three dwellings,” speaks to those who are Religious, but not Spiritual—those who dimly recognize the divine
light among them, and so they do what they can to capture that moment, make a
dwelling for that moment—taking the trappings of place, or era, or people there
as the central part of that God moment—they take these things and harden those
things into an idol
As
you might imagine, both fail…
The first, the Spiritual but not Religious crowd, cedes all control of events,
perhaps they make everything an inward blaa, they give up clarity for the sake
of expediency.
I can find God in the woods, I can
find God without community, I can find God by sleeping in, and at some point they no longer care to find God.
The second, the Religious but not Spiritual folk, muzzles things, stuffs God in
all too confining boxes, makes ritual out of righteousness and prescribed acts
out of piety.
God is found on this mountain only, you can access God by living among these people only, God only shows up if
you wear this particular funny hat.
To
these words of Peter, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three
dwellings,” —to our own inclinations to Spiritualism and Religiosity—comes the
voice of God from a cloud…
Hey—maybe we’re getting somewhere now…
right?
Perhaps it is in those clouds that we
find a way to be both religious and
spiritual… perhaps if we just listen to the beloved son all will be better…
perhaps this is the road to success?
But
those clouds too disappear, just as the prophets and the idea of dwelling
places, disappeared.
There
you are—there we are—there is the human condition—right there. All these things
lead you into a grave nothingness—no flighty spirituality, no grounding ritual—not
even the very voice of God
—there you are, only Jesus. There you are, neither Religious nor Spiritual—there
you are, with only Jesus.
And that sparse reality is a good thing to keep in front of you, as you enter Lent.
Lent
is all about the Spiritual and the Religious—extra worship, prescribed prayers,
fasting, almsgiving, a personal piety explosion, chasing after Jesus, boxing
Jesus in—ritual and rigor.
And here’s the thing. Both Spiritual and
Religious yearnings and strivings—the basic stuff of Lent—all of it, end in
utter failure.
Either we go half-way and recognize
we can’t do it—or we go all the way—all the way through the desert, and
congratulate ourselves, patting ourselves on the back…
Only then, once we’ve made a right fool
of ourselves… then we realize it wasn’t us, it wasn’t our own will that brought
us this far, but the faithfulness of God that put that will within us.
You
Spiritual, your transcendent warm fuzzies will float away, clearing like a
cloud.
You
Religious, you’ll succeed only by formalizing and forgetting, fixating on the
mountain instead of the message.
—either way—we find ourselves in
failure,
stripped,
no prophet,
no dwelling,
no cloud,
no religion,
no spirit
—stripped of all pretentions—only Jesus remains.
Interestingly
the date of Luther’s death—February 18th, will fall on Ash Wednesday
this year.
Luther’s dying words were, “We are
beggars all; this is true.”
That
right there is the point of Lent—it’s the process of striving, and
failing—recognizing that we are beggars.
Sanctification is nothing more than
growing in identification with the needy world we are part of.
Growing more profoundly a beggar
ourselves, arriving at that place where only Jesus remains.
It’s
dying and being brought to life by the one who was so profoundly a beggar that,
he veiled himself,
he entered the darkness,
he knelt down in the dirt and dust
with us.
Yes, this sermon here is a failure.
All
Transfiguration Sermons, are failures.
And
I thank God for that, for failure.
It
is in that failure we show ourselves for who we are.
And
Christ shows himself for who he is.
In
failure we are left with nothing
—nothing
but Jesus.
A+A
No comments:
Post a Comment