It's Not About Deserve

'Then the LORD said, "I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey, to the country of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. The cry of the Israelites has now come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them. So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt." But Moses said to God, "Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?" He said, "I will be with you; and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God on this mountain."

But Moses said to God, "If I come to the Israelites and say to them, 'The God of your ancestors has sent me to you,' and they ask me, 'What is his name?' what shall I say to them?" God said to Moses, "I AM WHO I AM." He said further, "Thus you shall say to the Israelites, 'I AM has sent me to you.'" God also said to Moses, "Thus you shall say to the Israelites, 'The LORD, the God of your ancestors, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you': This is my name forever,and this my title for all generations.”'

--Genesis 3: 7-15

'At that very time there were some present who told Jesus about the Galileans whose blood Pilate had mingled with their sacrifices. He asked them, "Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish as they did. Or those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them--do you think that they were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? No, I tell you; but unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did."

Then he told this parable: "A man had a fig tree planted in his vineyard; and he came looking for fruit on it and found none. So he said to the gardener, 'See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?' He replied, 'Sir, let it alone for one more year, until I dig around it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.'"'

--Luke 13: 1-9

I’m a pretty big superhero nerd, and while I will admit that there has been a huge oversaturation of big, blows-em-upsies, comic book-based films in the last 15 years, one of them that I will watch again and again is 2017’s Wonder Woman. Because that movie will preach. Namely, the final showdown between Diana of Thymescyra and her enemy, Ares, the god of war, who has waxed on about how humanity doesn’t deserve the protection and love of the gods and must therefore be eradicated – he, by the way, bases this claim on humanity’s actions during the First World War, which is something they won’t teach you in history class! “They don’t deserve us,” he tells Diana, who responds, “It’s not about deserve, but what you believe, and I believe in love.” It is that love that the immortal Wonder Woman has witnessed in the world of humankind that saves the day, not the suffering that humankind has caused. It’s not about deserve, but what you believe, and I believe in love.

Poster from the 2017 film Wonder Woman

I would define grace as a kind of love, the kind that is undeserved, unearned, and freely given to every person. In one of his meditations this week, Richard Rohr said, “Grace is not something God gives, Grace is who God is!”  That kind of love, undeserved and unearned, is the defining characteristic of our God, which is in stark contrast to the gods of old like Ares, Marduk, or Baal, who treated humanity the way they believed humanity deserved to be treat-ed, repaying violence with violence and tying one’s fate to one’s own behavior. 

Biblical scholar Dr. David Carr, calls this “moral act-consequence," which he defines as the idea that fear of God and/or good actions produce good results, while bad behavior leads to disaster. It’s an ancient concept, and it even is present in the Hebrew Bible in places like chapters 28-30 of Deuteronomy and much of the book of Proverbs, both of which suggest that God acts in this manner of blessing good behavior and punishing bad. 

This was, naturally, the common understanding of Jesus’ time. In a story we only find in Luke’s Gospel,  some folks approach Jesus to share the news of a group of Galileans who had come to make their sacrifice in the Temple, only to be murdered by Pontius Pilate, the governor, and have their blood mixed with their own sacrifices. What kind of terrible sin must they have committed to merit such a gory and tragic end! Wouldn’t you agree, Jesus?

No, Jesus does not agree; in fact, his entire healing ministry refutes this idea that people’s fates are determined by what they deserve. Remember that Jesus isn’t called a “friend of sinners” because he hung out with criminals, but rather the sick, the crippled, the poor, and other outcasts who were treated by the religious elites as having deserved their lot in life as a result of sinful behavior – they too believed such folks were in the station they were in because it was what they deserved. That’s what made them “sinners,” but Jesus doesn’t’ treat them this way because he understands that that isn’t how suffering works. To prove his point he cites the story of a group of 18 Jerusalemites who found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time when the Tower of Siloam in the Old City section of Jerusalem collapsed on them as a result of an earthquake. Were these victims of a natural disaster worse sinners that the victims of an unspeakable act of political violence? Or was it the other way around? Jesus makes it clear that there is no hierarchy of suffering. It simply is.

We see the same kinds of events occurring in our own time. Which is the greater tragedy: the humanitarian crisis in Gaza or the illegal deportation of American citizens and legal residents? Or which tyrant deserves a more cruel fate: the one we are most familiar with or the one we barely ever talk about? Maybe we’re all just getting what we deserve. Such arguments miss the point of grace and miss what Jesus is trying to teach us: that God doesn’t work that way. In the parable of the fig tree, Jesus articulates this point. The vineyard owner wants to cut down the fig tree because it bears no fruit. Doesn’t look too much like humanity is bearing much fruit right now, does it? But the gardener in the parable insists upon giving it one more year. With a little love and a lot of manure, it may grow again. The fig tree might deserve to be cut down because it’s not producing fruit. But what it gets is grace.

Someone else who deserved a different fate than what he got was Moses. Pairing Jesus’ teaching with the call of Moses is simply poetic. Do we remember that Moses was a murderer? A deserter and a coward? Who is he to stand on holy ground before his God and lead God’s people out of captivity? He says so himself, “Who am I?” The prophets who will come after Moses say similar things; they are often people with questionable backstories. By a transactional, karmic understand-ing of God, Moses should’ve been forsaken and cursed, but it was precisely because of what Moses had done with his life, and the perspective he had gained, that he understands what God is ask-ing him to do. The call of Moses is a redemption arc, a story of grace, of a fig tree that should’ve been cut down but was instead given one more chance by God’s grace.

Icon of the encounter between Moses and YHWH at the burning bush.

You may have noticed earlier that Richard Rohr capitalized Grace in his meditation, as if it were God’s name. When Moses asks for God’s name the response is YHWH, which is not a proper name but a verb, translated from Hebrew into a number of things, such as “I am. I am the one that is. I am being, And I will be.” Moses never learned the proper name, nobody does, which is kind of the point. Unlike those other gods like Ares, Marduk, and Baal, this God is not an object we can name and control. This God is the reality of Grace at the heart of everything, even the essence of our very breath. Richard Rohr, additionally, pointed out once in a talk that YHWH was chosen here, in part, because it cannot be properly spoken, it can only be breathed – in…and out. The very first and very last sound that we ever make on this earth is the only name for God that we are given. God is literally as close to us as our breath, from the first to the last – something Jesus under-stood better than anyone. It is, therefore, literally impossible for us to ever be separated from God. So, if that’s the case, how can we not believe that God is present, even in the sufferings we face? How we can we not believe that God’s Grace is sufficient for any of us? 

God never promised to eradicate our sufferings in this life. And Jesus makes clear that our sufferings are not determined by an algorithm of how we live and what we deserve. There is no hierarchy, unlike what Dante said in The Inferno – and it must always be pointed out that Dante wrote political satire, not theology! At times when it seems the bad guys are winning and nothing makes sense, it might feel easier to count on them getting their comeuppance at some point. But this distracts us from what we believe, which is love, the ever-present, always-abiding love and Grace of the God that is as close as our next breath. 

Keep On Keeping On

"The word of the LORD came to Abram in a vision, "Do not be afraid, Abram, I am your shield; your reward shall be very great." But Abram said, "O Lord GOD, what will you give me, for I continue childless, and the heir of my house is Eliezer of Damascus?" And Abram said, "You have given me no offspring, and so a slave born in my house is to be my heir." But the word of the LORD came to him, "This man shall not be your heir; no one but your very own issue shall be your heir." He brought him outside and said, "Look toward heaven and count the stars, if you are able to count them." Then he said to him, "So shall your descendants be." And he believed the LORD; and the LORD reckoned it to him as righteousness."

--Genesis 15: 1-6

"Brothers and sisters, join in imitating me, and observe those who live according to the example you have in us. For many live as enemies of the cross of Christ; I have often told you of them, and now I tell you even with tears. Their end is destruction; their god is the belly; and their glory is in their shame; their minds are set on earthly things. But our citizenship is in heaven, and it is from there that we are expecting a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ. He will transform the body of our humiliation that it may be conformed to the body of his glory, by the power that also enables him to make all things subject to himself. Therefore, my brothers and sisters, whom I love and long for, my joy and crown, stand firm in the Lord in this way, my beloved."

--Philippians 3: 17-4: 1

"Some Pharisees came and said to Jesus, "Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you." He said to them, "Go and tell that fox for me, 'Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.' Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, 'Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.'""

--Luke 13: 31-55

One of the first stories I loved as a kid was the Fox and the Hound. Y’all remember that story? It was originally a novel written by Daniel P. Mannix in 1967, but like most children of the 80s and 90s I only knew the animated film. It tells the story of the unlikely friendship between a red fox named Tod and a hound dog named Copper, as they struggle with their emerging instincts and realize that they are meant to be adversaries. The title characters, who were done up in that classic Don Bluth animation – like The Sword in the Stone and The Black Cauldron – were adorable, and as I kid I really didn’t understand why Amos, Copper’s human, wanted to kill Tod. What’s so bad about foxes? Especially cute ones.

The Fox and the Hound

Herod Antipas was not cute, nor was his father, despite being called Herod the Great. The Herods were puppets of Rome, Jews who were put in charge of Roman occupied Palestine and who kept the masses in line in a quid pro quo that allowed them to stay in power with the title ‘King of the Jews.’ Nobody, but the Romans, that is, liked the Herods. They were traitors. Sneaky and cunning, and they would devour a whole family if it suited them. Like a fox in a henhouse. Not even the Pharisees thought they were cute.

This is a good reminder that the Pharisees are not the villains in the Gospel story – Rome is; in fact, without the Pharisees maintaining the history, teachings, and customs of the faith, Judaism would’ve disappeared completely after Rome destroyed the Temple in the year 70. That being said, they often do compete with Jesus, contentiously so on at times. Yet every now and then they seem genuinely to like him, they’re often curious about him and appreciate learning from him. In a moment that only happens in the Gospel of Luke, they come not to thwart Jesus but to warn him to leave Jerusalem because Herod is on the prowl to kill him.

Jesus is neither surprised nor frightened. You mean the guy who is in Rome’s back-pocket, who has his tax collectors charge way more than they should and robs the poor for pocket change, who has been hearing me call him and other agents of power out for their mistreatment of the poor, you mean he wants to kill me? What a shock! Go tell that fox – that sneaky so-and-so who devours the very people I’ve come among - that I’m doing what I was called to do, and then on the third day I’ll reach my goal and finish my work. What is the third day? Is it an allusion to the Resurrection? Is it literally supposed to be just two days after Jesus says this? I would consider that the third day is another piece of poetic imagery from Jesus, not a specific day or time, and that the goal of the work is to simply be faithful to it to the end. Despite what comes, to kept on keeping on. 

This perseverance is a theme that runs through all of our Scriptures this week. Abram – not yet Abraham – has already been told by God to go from Ur of the Chaldeans with his family and to settle in a land that will be given to his descendants. In this week’s reading, fearful and concerned that the promise may have been in vain, Abram receives additional encouragement by God and a reminder that his descendants will outnumber the stars. Keep on keeping on. The Church in Philippi – Greece, not West Virginia – were living under the oppressive rule of Rome, and there were many disputes about what, if anything, they should do about it. The congregation’s fears were numerous, but Paul – who had seeded that congregation – writes to them while in prison and tells them not to give in to the same kinds of behavior as those lording over them, whose god is “the belly”; that is, their base desires for power, prestige, and possessions. Do not repair evil with evil. Keep on keeping on.

Many of us, even now, feel that we have reached a point when we must choose: do we turn away and ignore all the ills of our time, do we succumb to the rage and fear and lash out with violence, or do we keep moving forward, held fast in our hope, our faith, our Truth, with a capital T? If not the threat of physical death, then perhaps we face the potential for irreparable harm socially, emotionally, vocationally. Maybe not we ourselves but certainly people that we love. What do we do?

There is no simple answer to that,  but holding steady to what we know is good and right and true is more important now than maybe it has ever been. It matters that the story of Jesus is set during a time of occupation and oppression, and it matters that Jesus doesn’t seem to do anything about it. He doesn’t raise an army against Herod and his Roman puppeteers. He doesn’t replace one kind of top-down power with another. He keeps doing what he is called to do. Stanley Hauerwas and Will Willoman authored a book called Resident Aliens, in which they reject the idea that America is a “Christian” nation and instead suggest that we model Jesus’ behavior, as resident aliens in a foreign land, living lives that model a new set of ethics, grounded in the non-violent principles of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. The Church, as we know, doesn’t have a great track record when it gets in bed with civil authorities – Manifest Destiny, the slave trade, and capitulation to the Nazis were all sanctioned by the institutional Church. I wonder, perhaps, if Hauerwas and Willoman’s argument is the playbook for us right now, as fascism has arrived full stop, draped in the American flag and wearing a cross around its neck. Because the reality is that this is a foreign land to Jesus, a land that maintains worship of power, prestige, and possessions, that tries to be the new Rome for its day. Christianity was always anti-establishment, a survival mechanism forged in the cauldron of occupation and annihilation. Perhaps, like Jesus, like the Philippians, and like Abram, our call is to keep showing up, keep listening to and trusting the Holy Spirit when she speaks to us, even if we cannot see what the outcome will be. It is the most faithful farmer, after all, who plants the seeds that she will never see grow.

Jesus wept over Jerusalem when he looked out and saw a city held in the grip of fear, that always seemed to choose top-down, human power over the sacrificial, power-with-and-through of God. On the Mount of Olives today you can go to the Church of Dominus Flavit – the Lord wept – shaped like a tear, and look out over the same city through a window behind the altar. And you’ll notice on the front of the altar a mosaic depicting a hen, with her chicks gathered round, piercing her breast so they can feed. The foxes are at the gate – many are wearing crosses and quoting the bible. They are eager to devour the hen and her chicks. We know their names. We also know the name of the hen – Jesus – whose very body and blood feed us, and under whose wings we find our shelter and safety. We will not be deterred. We will keep moving, keep praying, keep listening, trusting, and working. These foxes ain’t cute. They’re cowards. And together we will face them, these powers and principalities, until the day when our work is done. Like First Aid Kit sang: we won’t take the easy road, gotta keep on keeping on. 

The front of the altar of Dominus Flavit Church on the Mount of Olives (taken during a trip in 2011).

On Temptation, Wilderness, and Microwaves

'After his baptism, Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil. He ate nothing at all during those days, and when they were over, he was famished. The devil said to him, "If you are the Son of God, command this stone to become a loaf of bread." Jesus answered him, "It is written, 'One does not live by bread alone.'"

Then the devil led him up and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And the devil said to him, "To you I will give their glory and all this authority; for it has been given over to me, and I give it to anyone I please. If you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours." Jesus answered him, "It is written, 'Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.'"

Then the devil took him to Jerusalem, and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, "If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written, 'He will command his angels concerning you, to protect you,' and 'On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.'"

Jesus answered him, "It is said, 'Do not put the Lord your God to the test.'" When the devil had finished every test, he departed from him until an opportune time.'

--Luke 4: 1-13

A few years ago I was out to dinner with a group of people in a non-church setting. Believe it or not, that does happen. Sometimes. Out of the blue I got asked this random question: “So Jesus’ temptations in the wilderness…why’d it happen after his baptism?” I was more concerned with the sportsball game on the tv, but whatever. I gave an answer off the top of my head that, you might figure, after all this time would’ve changed, but truth be told, it hasn’t. Jesus’ temptations happen after his baptism because that’s the point.

Coptic Orthodox image of Jesus in the wilderness.

After this public declaration of Jesus’ belovedness, he faces the biggest test of his life up to that point. The Spirit of the living God, the very Spirit who recently had rested upon him, the one with whom God is well pleased, now leads him into the desert, where for 40 days and nights he is tempted to the outer limits of the imagination.  In the weakest conditions imaginable – hungry, lonely, utterly spent – Jesus confronts the forces that seek to draw him away from the One who had called him beloved, by means of three temptations: possession, power, and prestige.

So let's look at them.  While Jesus is no doubt starving, the devil suggests he command a stone to become a loaf of bread.  Feed himself, and he'll be satisfied and full.  The implication is that if Jesus had enough of a thing –in this case bread – he would be safe and secure.  This is the temptation for possession; the illusion that there could be enough of any material object to satisfy one’s hunger. But Jesus knows better, saying that one does not live by bread alone.  He knows that material goods, even bread, are not the means to ultimate satisfaction, only God is.  Strike one for the devil.

For the second temptation, the devil offers Jesus dominion over all the kingdoms of the world.  This is the temptation for power.  There's no vulnerability here, only the lure of control over of everything and everyone.  This is top-down power, the kind Pharoah's Egypt exercised, the kind Rome exercised.  But Jesus knows this is not God's brand of power.  That power is shown in vulnerability, in self-sacrifice, not glorification; it’s power-with, not over. “Worship only the Lord your God,” Jesus says. Strike two.

Finally, the devil says, "Hey, if you're the Son of God, jump off the temple, and let the angels catch you."  The devil even uses a portion of Psalm 91 to convince Jesus that it's ok.  This is the temptation for prestige.  Take up this position atop the temple, symbol of God's authority, jump off, and if you're really so special, God will save you! But Jesus knows one shouldn't put God to the test because one needn't prove one's worth before God.  The devil's promoting a form of idolatry, making one’s ego into one’s God.  But Jesus does not seek the gratification of his own ego, he seeks only God's will.  Strike three.  The devil is out.

There was a movie in 2015 called Last Days in the Desert, which tells this story of Jesus wandering and being tempted by the devil, and it stars the best Jedi ever, Ewan McGregor, as Jesus.  What's fascinating is that he doesn't just play Jesus, he plays the devil too.  Here the devil doesn’t have a bifurcated tail, nor does he carry a hayfork, he comes to Jesus looking and sounding exactly like him.  The implication is that these temptations are coming from Jesus himself.  We may not be comfortable with this idea, but if the Incarnation is real, and Jesus actually is fully human, then that means he would be tempted as we are.  It also means that those same temptations are there inside each one of us. 

Ewan McGregor as both Jesus and the devil (which is which?) in Last Days in the Desert.

We know them well. Walter Wink once suggested, and I’m in agreement, that these three are the root temptations of all sin. The temptation for possessions tells us we can never have enough – money, toys, romantic partners – and that we have to keep them at all costs; it’s a scarcity mindset. The temptation for power comes from a need for control, otherwise all might sink into chaos; we don’t have to look far to see what happens when men give in so completely to this temptation and desire for top-down control. And the temptation for prestige says that we should want to be big deal, super important folks, with our name plastered on buildings and aero planes; this temptation is what often leads to poor folks voting against their own self-interests; they want even the possibility that they too could have the good life to be true. Tale as old time. 

The longing to pursue such pathetic substitutes for the real good life – the kind modeled for us in Jesus – tempts us on a daily basis. We seek immediate satisfaction of our hungers, we crave the illusion of control, and we want to be looked up to, admired, and appreciated. The easy, abundant life we feel we deserve comes too slowly, after all. We want a speedier ascent to holiness, a quicker fix, instant results, a sort of microwave spirituality. 

Here's the thing about microwaves: they don’t always work. When we moved into our new home in Durham we got one of these fancy pants microwaves that had a bunch of great reviews. It’s got pre-settings that make it easier and save you time, they said. You know what it didn’t have? Numbers. That’s right, no numbers on the microwave, so if we wanted to just heat something up for 15 seconds, we couldn’t do it, only a pre-set that added 30 seconds at a time. Sometimes what we think is easier and faster, ends up being a soulless imitation. 

Scriptures says the devil departed Jesus until an opportune time; son-of-a-gun didn’t quit. We can’t escape the temptations either because baptism, being marked as part of Christ’s own Body forever, drives us out into a wild and chaotic world. We don’t just stay in the safety and security of our churches or homes because Jesus didn’t. C.S. Lewis said that if he had been looking for a religion that always gave him a good feeling, he wouldn’t have picked Christianity; he said could’ve gotten that from a bottle of port. Christianity isn’t for wimps, so they say. It’s hard because it’s hard, and the devil’s always looking for an opportune time. 

And still the Good News is that Jesus calls us o’er the tumult of our lives’ wild, restless seas; to venture through our own deserts and to face our own temptations. The lure of possessions, power, and prestige are all around us, and they are within us, yes. But they can be overcome, through prayer and community, by remembering who we are and whose we are, and at the Holy Table that gives us food enough, bread for the journey, to go out into the wilderness and face our own temptations. Seek not the quick fix, but the lower place, the slower pace. And you’ll strike the devil out too. 

Will We Listen?

'Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, "Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah"--not knowing what he said. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!" When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.

'On the next day, when they had come down from the mountain, a great crowd met him. Just then a man from the crowd shouted, "Teacher, I beg you to look at my son; he is my only child. Suddenly a spirit seizes him, and all at once he shrieks. It convulses him until he foams at the mouth; it mauls him and will scarcely leave him. I begged your disciples to cast it out, but they could not." Jesus answered, "You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and bear with you? Bring your son here." While he was coming, the demon dashed him to the ground in convulsions. But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, healed the boy, and gave him back to his father. And all were astounded at the greatness of God.'

--Luke 9: 28-43a

“Listen to him!” The voice of God speaks on two occasions in the synoptic Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke. The first is at Jesus’ baptism, when the voice speaks directly to Jesus, calling him “my beloved” and saying “with you I am well pleased.” The other time is the moment we just heard, the Transfiguration atop Mt. Tabor, when Jesus is lifted in the air, shining and resplendent light, and shown conversing with Moses the Law-Giver and Elijah, the greatest of the prophets. In a moment filled with awe and wonder, the voice speaks about Jesus, once again calling him a Son, the chosen, and instructing the onlookers – and everyone who inherited this story - to listen to him.

Well, they didn’t listen. If you go atop Mt. Tabor today, you can see the gigantic Basilica of the Transfiguration, and when you step inside, you’re greeted by the chapel of Moses on one side and the chapel of Elijah on the other. Peter, it turns out, got his way. We built the things. We didn’t listen to Jesus. Why is that so hard?

The Basilica of the Transfiguration atop Mt. Tabor today.

I wonder if it’s because we so rarely ever listen to each other. When I played baseball in college, we had a practice one day in which we were working on catching flyballs. Coach hit a sky-high pop fly to left field. The left fielder, shortstop, and third baseman all tried to catch it. The left fielder called for it – “I got it! I got it!” The other two slowed up a little but the ball fell between the three of them. The third baseman and shortstop told Coach that they had, in fact, heard the left fielder call for the ball. “You may have heard him,” Coach said, “but you weren’t listening.”

There is a difference. Hearing is a natural sense of the body, while listening means really paying attention to what’s being said and responding. It’s more relational, it’s active. The third baseman and shortstop, Coach said, should’ve let the left fielder know they were listening by yelling back, “Take it! Take it! Take it!” To listen is to communicate, verbally or non-verbally, that you’re in it with the other person. Can you think of a time when you were speaking to someone and they didn’t respond in any way that did thisl? Maybe they told you afterwards that they heard you, but they weren’t listening. What does it mean for us to not just hear Jesus but to listen to him?

Had Peter really been listening, maybe he wouldn’t have suggested building the three dwelling for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah. Maybe the Basilica of the Transfiguration and its accompanying chapels wouldn’t exist atop Mt. Tabor. Maybe he could’ve understood then what Jesus is still trying to get us to understand now, which is that we can’t stay on the mountaintop. We have to come down. 

Mountaintop experiences are wonderful, don’t get me wrong. A wedding, a graduation, a birth, all of these are moments of pure excitement and joy, where it feels like our hearts are set on fire with a kind of holy exuberance that comes from encountering the Divine face-to-face. We can’t help but want to stay in them. But it is only by coming down from them that we grow and learn. Weddings are great, but then the couple has to learn to live together in this new way. Graduations are exciting, but will a job exist that will enable the person to use that new degree? And a birth is cause for celebration, but that child is going to need a ton of love and support if they are going to have a chance in this world. If I may bring it closer to home, being declared a parish and celebrating with the whole diocese was an amazing experience for everyone here, but we gotta learn what being a parish really means from here on. Like Moses, Jesus, and especially those three disciples, we all must come back down from our various mountaintop experiences if we are going to become who God is calling us to be.

What happens when Jesus comes down from Mt. Tabor? It ain’t pretty. A man comes up to Jesus in desperation to cure his child’s epilepsy.  The disciples who had not gone up the mountain had tried to help, but they failed.  No one knows what to do, and Jesus’ frustration begins to show.  “How much longer must I be with you and bear with you?” he wonders out loud.  Have you ever seen the images of ‘Facepalm Jesus,’ the statue of Jesus that looks like this….

Yeah, that’s more or less what’s happening here.  He doesn’t find peace or quiet or people who have it together.  When he comes down from the mountain, down into the valley, Jesus finds chaos and confusion.  His ministry shifts, too, from walking around and meeting people where they are in Galilee, to heading up the long, treacherous road to Jerusalem. To betrayal and death and resurrection. This is why every year we hear the story of the Transfiguration the Sunday before Lent begins. Our focus, too, is shifting. We are about to embark on a time of fasting, praying , and reflecting. The journey is long, but it ends with resurrection. 

We may wish for the euphoric moments in which the power and majesty of God is as close to us as it was to Peter, James, and John. But it is down in the valleys of our lives that we learn and grow and discover our true selves. Whether willingly or unwillingly, to move into those valleys and head toward our own Jerusalem is frightening, but we do not travel the way alone. We have each other, and most of all, we have Jesus, who has already blazed that trail for us. Maybe you feel like you’re in the valley right now and will never reach that mountaintop again. But know that where you are is not where you will finish, and together, we’ll get to resurrection.

The first time I preached on the Transfiguration I told the story of how I grew up on a mountain, how the majesty of the mountains can often connect us to God, but how, like Jesus and the disciples, we are so often compelled to come down from the mountaintops of our lives in order to become who we are meant to be; and I used as an example, driving away from that mountain for the last time and heading off to seminary and this great unknown journey Jesus was calling me to take. I thought it was a pretty good sermon, to be honest, but as the folks filed through the receiving line, one woman said to me:  “Oh I just love the mountains, too!”  The point of the sermon, which was that we have to come down from the mountain, had been completely lost on her. I guess she heard my sermon, but she didn’t really listen to it.

In the wilderness of Lent, will we simply hear Jesus, or listen to him? Will we not just hear him rebuke Satan’s temptations of power, prestige and possessions, but listen to him compel us to rebuke them ourselves? Will we not just hear his story of a prodigal child, but listen to him as he shows us the ones that we can embrace and love in the same way as the father in that story? Will we not just hear him call Lazarus to get up from the grave, but listen to him call us out of the depths of our unworthiness, grief, and pain, and into the light of our true selves? On the road to Jerusalem, in the upper room washing feet, crying in agony on the cross, and walking away from an empty tomb, this is Jesus the Father’s Chosen. Let us listen to him.