Yesterday I heard the news that Rev. Dr. Ross Olivier, a long time friend and mentor had passed away. To say I'm shattered is not an overstatement. And I'm certainly not the only one. For a long time Ross has been at the forefront of South African Methodism, and his impact on our church, and on the Methodist Church across the world, cannot be measured. But, I don't want to write a formal review of Ross's life - there are those far mor... Read more..]]> Yesterday I heard the news that Rev. Dr. Ross Olivier, a long time friend and mentor had passed away. To say I’m shattered is not an overstatement. And I’m certainly not the only one. For a long time Ross has been at the forefront of South African Methodism, and his impact on our church, and on the Methodist Church across the world, cannot be measured. But, I don’t want to write a formal review of Ross’s life – there are those far more qualified than me to do that.

What I do want to do is put out a public note of gratitude for who Ross was, and for the impact he has had on me personally, and on the ministry of Sacredise. Although I had been familiar with Ross’s name for a long time, I first him met when he was the senior minister at Northfield Methodist Church in Benoni, South Africa. I had been approached to join the staff of the church as a worship specialist. Unfortunately, he was appointed to be the Executive Secretary of the MCSA before I arrived in staff, so I never got the chance to work with him in a pastoral setting for an extended time. But, it seems, he did not forget me. When the National Conference of 2001 was being planned, Ross approached me to take on the role of Worship Director. Listening to his passion for what the worship could be and catching his vision for the Church was inspiring. The months of planning, and the week of the Conference were scary and exciting times, and Ross never wavered in his support and encouragement.

Later, when he was working in Jackson, Mississippi, Ross invited me to work in his church through Holy Week, joining his very accomplished liturgical and musical staff to create a journey in worship through the passion and resurrection of Jesus. It was another stretching and inspiring time, and he and Shayne were the most hospitable, welcoming and fun hosts to stay with. In those three weeks, he showed me the devastation of Hurricane Katrina, and the fun of eating true Southern food.

Then, it was Ross who invited me to teach on worship to the seminarians at the Seth Mokitimi Methodist Seminary, and who, along with Peter Storey, appointed me as liturgist for the dedication of the new Seminary campus in 2010. I could go on, but I list these ways that Ross impacted my life to demonstrate the support, commitment and encouragement that he was capable of bestowing on people. I have no doubt that what Ross fed into my life and work, he did as much or more for others. There are any number of effective, inspiring and transforming ministers out there who owe their passion and commitment, their vision and hope to this incredible man of God.

Yet, in spite of all this, Ross was never more than an ordinary, humble lover of Jesus. He would take no credit for what I have mentioned here, and would laugh off my tribute to him. He had a wicked sense of humour, and a disconcerting way of saying things that suddenly put me on the wrong foot. But, I learned a lot from him, I received many amazing opportunities from him and I grew so much through his input into my life. When, a couple of years ago, I asked him to write the foreword to my book The Hour That Changes Everything, he quickly agreed, read the book twice, and wrote a thoughtful and, again, encouraging introduction to the book. The debts will never be repaid – not that Ross would want them to be.

The world has lost a special man. I know that the loss I feel is small compared to that of Shayne, his wife, and their three sons. But, I also know that when Jesus speaks about saying "well done, good and faithful servant" he had people like Ross in mind. Rest well, friend. You’ve earned it!

A Lectionary Reflection on Luke 24:36b-48 for Easter 3B

It seems like the most fundamental question that shapes both the faith and the influence of followers of Jesus has become: “If you were to die tonight, do you know where you would... Read more..]]> A Lectionary Reflection on Luke 24:36b-48 for Easter 3B

It seems like the most fundamental question that shapes both the faith and the influence of followers of Jesus has become: “If you were to die tonight, do you know where you would go?” The premise behind this is simple. The Gospel, we are told, is all about human beings getting to an eternity of heavenly bliss. Since sin stops us from going there, diverting us to the fires of hell, the task of Christians in “witnessing” to people is first to convince them that they want to go heaven, then to convince them that they won’t go because they are sinners, and then to convince them to accept Jesus in order to be forgiven and qualify for “glory”. I confess that the above model of Christian witness feels to me like an exercise in missing the point.

The very reality of resurrection speaks of something different than an eternity spent in disembodied, otherworldly bliss. As Jesus appears to his confused and disbelieving disciples, he has to prove to them that “It’s really me!” (24:39) – not a ghost, not an illusion, and not some kind of undead, resuscitated zombie – and so he eats. Meals had always been significant for Jesus in his pre-crucifixion ministry, and after the resurrection he often used meals to reveal himself to his friends. But, the act of eating, while characteristic of Jesus, also serves to show how very physical, how completely embodied he is. This removes any basis we might have for believing that our ultimate destiny is some disembodied state.

The Incarnation extends beyond the grave and reveals that our physical cosmos – including our own bodies – is an integral part of the eternal reality that we call God’s Reign, and not just some sort of temporary testing ground for the righteous to come to faith. We get saved in our bodies, in this world, and whatever waits for us on the other side of the grave is continuous with that.

But, Jesus takes things even further. In order to show his disciples that it is really their Messiah that has appeared among them, Jesus takes them back to the Scriptures and opens their minds to two fundamental truths. The first is that the Messiah was always meant to die and be raised. It would have been amazing if Luke had given us more detail of the Bible study Jesus led with his disciples, but we can only guess at the content – not least because it would be tough to find any Old Testament passages that specifically and clearly state this about the Messiah. Nevertheless, the disciples are clearly convinced since they soon start using the same method of biblical interpretation in their own preaching (see Philip’s interaction with the Ethiopian Eunuch as an example – Acts 8:26-39).

The second truth that Jesus draws from the Scriptures is that there is a message that is to be preached – to which the disciples are to be witnesses. The New Living Translation puts it this way: “There is forgiveness of sins for all who repent” (v.47). At first glance it sounds a bit like the message of personal, individual salvation that I’ve described above – but that can only be the case when we ignore other places where the same (or a very similar) message has been proclaimed by Jesus in the Gospels.

To begin with the word repentance (metanoia) is not so much about saying sorry for doing something wrong. Rather, it is about a complete change, a total re-orientation of life around the message and mission of Jesus. It is going all-in, along with Jesus, for the Reign of God (See Mark 1:15). In the New Living translation of Luke’s Gospel, repentance is connected with sin and includes turning to God (Eg. 13:3 & 16:30), but “turning to God”, from Jesus’ perspective, must be related to his primary mission statement from Luke 4:18-19. This ministry-defining sermon, based on Isaiah, includes the proclamation of the “day of the Lord’s favour” (which many scholars take to be a reference to the Jubilee). Since the word for “sin” also holds the connotation of indebtedness (See the Lord’s Prayer in Luke 11:4 where “forgive us our sins” – harmatia: to err or miss the mark – is followed by “as we forgive those who sin against us” – opheilo: to be indebted or to owe money) this forgiveness is not just about being reprieved from punishment for wrong-doing. It is also about being released from indebtedness in the sense of the Jubilee, where slaves were released, debts were cancelled, land was returned to the original owners and a new, equitable, liberated society gave a fresh start for everyone. The elements of justice, peace, inclusivity and grace that characterise the message of God’s Reign elsewhere in the Gospels must, then, also be kept in mind here as Jesus calls his disciples to be witnesses to the message of repentance and forgiveness.

These first followers of the Risen Christ were seeing something unprecedented, and it was overwhelming for them. In time, though, they became true witnesses to what they had experienced. They preached the message of repentance and forgiveness in words, yes. But, even more so, they preached it in action – in building a community that was a reflection of the new, alternative, Jubilee society that Jesus had proclaimed. Theirs was not just a hope for after death. It was a very real, transforming hope for this world as well. Jesus had shown them that enemies could learn to love one another, that the gravest betrayals could be forgiven, and that oppressive empires could not destroy God’s Reign. The resurrection life that they had encountered in Christ, and that they began to experience flooding through them by God’s Spirit (for which Jesus told them to wait in the very next verse after this week’s reading), gave them the hope and the courage to continue striving to live this peaceful, inclusive, just, generous, loving, forgiving, reconciling, compassionate life right up until the Roman Empire executed them. In the face of the resurrected Jesus, and the manifestation of God’s indestructible Kingdom, no human empire held any fear for them any more. And in their dying, their witness – literally, from the Greek martus, their martyrdom – proclaimed Christ’s message such that it has continued to echo through the centuries, and echoes among us still. All that is left is for us to take up the call and add our voices, and our lives, to theirs, becoming witnesses to Christ’s resurrection kingdom ourselves.

__________________________

For further reflections on the readings for this week, and for worship resources, check out this week’s Lectionary Worship Resources post.

Although rituals appear to be few and far between in the world of today, and some people may even be rather disparaging of ritual, I don't believe for a minute that rituals have ceased to exist and be popular. On the contrary, it seems to me that a supposedly "ritual-less" world is seeking rituals in more places and more ways, perhaps, than ever. Watch any reality TV show, and watch how ritualised the "tribal council" is. Observe how any significant moment, from first communion, to graduations, to weddings to birthdays, is celebrated and you'll see plenty of rituals.

A Lectionary Reflection on John 12:20-33 for Lent 5B

As the old saying goes, “You get to choose what you’ll do, but you don’t get to choose the consequences.” The p... Read more..]]> A Lectionary Reflection on John 12:20-33 for Lent 5B

As the old saying goes, “You get to choose what you’ll do, but you don’t get to choose the consequences.” The problem is that we all spend way too much energy trying to avoid the consequences of what we do, and who we have become. Every one of us, by ignorance or design, has moments of destructiveness, addiction, narcissism and laziness. To use Scott Peck’s term, we are all, at one point or another in our lives, people of the lie.

The essential motivation for this struggle with integrity is our fear of what may come should we choose to face the music. We know that if we allow our actions and attitudes to catch up with us, we will be judged, we will be found guilty and we will need to be executed. What we don’t know is that we can never outrun our brokenness, and the judgement has already happened, the sentence already pronounced.

In this week’s Gospel reading, Jesus speaks those very disturbing words: “Those who love their life in this world will lose it. Those who care nothing for their life in this world will keep it for eternity. Anyone who wants to be My disciple must follow Me, because My servants must be where I am.” (John 12:24, 25) We talk a lot today about Jesus dying so we can live, but the truth is, according to Jesus, we do not get to avoid death. We are called to follow him, to be where he has been. This means we have to travel the entire road through the cross and beyond. We don’t get to life without passing through death. The reason for this is both very uncomfortable and quite obvious.

At the end of this section, Jesus speaks about the moment of his death which, he has already confirmed, has now come. This moment, he says, is the moment when the world will be judged and Satan will be cast out. The moment of the cross is the moment of judgement, and no one can avoid it – that’s one of the reasons why the whole world is drawn to Jesus as he is lifted up. The cross reveals the inevitable result of our narcissism, our laziness and our destructiveness. When we refuse to face the music, to confront the truth about ourselves, we all, finally, build crosses to destroy what we refuse to integrate and welcome into our lives. We are all masters at projecting our darkness on to others and condemning them for it. We are all merciless in giving the thumbs down to the executioners whose blades hover over our foes. And the cross brings all of this dark, destructiveness out into the open and reveals it for what it truly is. The cross is the moment of judgement on the world.

It is also the moment when, having seen the truth about ourselves, we are faced with a choice – to ignore the truth and continue to live in darkness, or to allow the Satan in us to be cast out. When we face the music, and accept that we have been judged by the cross, Jesus words become a difficult challenge. If we seek to save our lives we will lose them to the darkness we mistakenly think we can hide or avoid. But, if we can find it in ourselves to accept the judgement and submit to the cross which must execute the destructive us, only then can we find the true, eternal life free from the darkness that destroys us and others.

Make no mistake, facing the music is not easy. Even Jesus, facing the cross, expressed fear. John’s Gospel has no Gethsemane, but it does have the moment when Jesus considers asking to be released from his moment of sacrifice (v.27). But, even in the midst of his prayer, Jesus recognises that the moment cannot be avoided, and he submits to the cross. John’s Gospel also has no Transfiguration, but it does have the moment when the glory of willing self-sacrifice is profoundly revealed. Jesus prays that God’s name would be glorified through him, and then a voice from heaven proclaims that, "I have already brought glory to My name, and I will do so again" (v28). Facing the music is hard and excruciatingly painful, but, it is also the place of glory, because it is the necessary surgery that enables us to overcome the darkness that destroys us. In this sense, also, Jesus draws all people to himself through the cross. He reveals to us all that there is an alternative way to live. We can leave behind our denial and darkness, we can face the music and embrace the death that leads us to authentic, abundant life. The cross, then, is the doorway to glory for broken humanity.

As much as we would love to avoid the consequences of our worst selves, to attempt to do so is nothing less than a guarantee of ongoing brokenness and ultimate death. The paradoxical good news, though, is that, if we face the music and submit to the judgement and execution of our destructive selves on the cross, we are freed from our worst, and are able to emerge through our death into the abundant life that Jesus promised. It’s a simple, difficult choice, but one that we must all face – sooner rather than later – to face the music in order to become reflections of the life-giving glory of a loving and life-giving God.

We spend a lot of time in the Church dealing with the mind. We often speak about the mind as the place where our spiritual battles are fought. Our liturgy is largely aimed at the mind, focussed on solid theology and filled with words that, although often very beautiful, are primarily intended to engage us on the level of the intellect. Our preaching has traditionally been framed in a persuasive mode that seeks to convince and change our minds. Yet, we still wrestle with the uncomfortable truth that for all this “mind-work” many, if not most, worshippers think and behave little different... Read more..]]> We spend a lot of time in the Church dealing with the mind. We often speak about the mind as the place where our spiritual battles are fought. Our liturgy is largely aimed at the mind, focussed on solid theology and filled with words that, although often very beautiful, are primarily intended to engage us on the level of the intellect. Our preaching has traditionally been framed in a persuasive mode that seeks to convince and change our minds. Yet, we still wrestle with the uncomfortable truth that for all this “mind-work” many, if not most, worshippers think and behave little differently from those who do not regularly attend a church.

This is where James Smith’s argument becomes very compelling for me. In his book Desiring the Kingdom he argues that human beings are not so much thinkers as lovers. We are people of purpose, people whose lives are aimed at a goal. What we strive for is what we have come to believe in our hearts will bring us a “good life”. It is what we love, more than what we think, that shapes and drives us. This is supported by recent research into how we shop and make decisions about how to spend our hard-earned cash. Generally, what we are learning, is that our decisions are not made in our heads, but in our hearts, and all the rational explanations we give for our decisions are just the mind justifying what the heart has already decided. This explains why we may decide (in our minds) to change certain things about our lives – as in our New Year’s resolutions – but we somehow fail to follow through. It is also why, when our liturgy is aimed at minds, we may get lots of agreement, but little true transformation.

The challenge for us in the church is to learn again to engage the heart as well as the mind. Jesus did this through his use of both parable and miracle – narrative and symbolic action that touched the heart before it tried to convince the mind. In truth, the primary purpose of liturgy is to engage the whole person through ritual, symbol, narrative, relationship and, yes, word. One of the most important tasks for today’s Church, I believe, is to recapture the power of liturgy to engage and transform the heart, and consequently, the whole person.

A Lectionary Reflection on John 3:14-21 and Numbers 21:4-9 for Lent 4B

When my wife first began to speak about her call to ministry, I found it harder than I had expected to accept. While... Read more..]]> A Lectionary Reflection on John 3:14-21 and Numbers 21:4-9 for Lent 4B

When my wife first began to speak about her call to ministry, I found it harder than I had expected to accept. While she had a clear call, she was also committed to ensuring that, should anything happen to me, she and our boys would be secure and provided for. This was the really tough part for me, and I found myself challenging her. "What happens if, when you no longer need me, you no longer want me?" The insecurity and lack of trust that this revealed was a darkness in my soul that it took quite some time to own. But, it was only when I finally recognised it, confessed it to her and committed to trust her and release my fear that I was able to be the celebrative and supportive husband that I should have been from the beginning.

Until we are willing to acknowledge our darkness, we can never find our way to the light. This is a truth as ancient as the human race, and it is strikingly highlighted in the Lectionary readings for Lent 4 this year. The Gospel reading from John 3 flows out Jesus’ nighttime conversation with Nicodemus, and the hidden setting creates a visual parable of Jesus’ teaching. While we love to focus on John 3:16, it is really verses 18-21 that carry the “weight” of this discourse. Here Jesus speaks about judgment, light and darkness. The essence of the message is this: when we love darkness, we refuse to come into the light and so we are “judged” in that we are unable to find the healing, forgiveness and restoration that would bring us life and connection.

This loving of darkness is, at its heart, about denial. When we are willing to “come into the light” – to be open and honest about ourselves and the brokenness within – we can be healed and liberated from our sin, brokenness and self-centredness. However, when we insist on pretending that we’re fine, that we have no “stuff” to deal with, and that everything that is wrong with the world is the fault of others, we leave ourselves trapped in our darkness, and no liberation can find us.

This is exactly the same truth that is expressed through the Old Testament story to which Jesus refers at the beginning of this week’s pericope. Here the Israelites, who are now on the border of the Promised Land after 40 years, once again complain about their circumstances and hearken back to Egypt. What is ironic here, is that few, if any, of this generation had ever lived in Egypt! In response, a plague of “fiery” venomous snakes attacks the Israelite camp. The word can also mean “winged” snakes, and could imply a connection with the Egyptian winged goddess that would represent the world their parents had left and which they were now longing for. When the people cry out to Moses for help, God instructs Moses to erect a bronze replica of a snake on a pole. Anyone who was bitten had only to look up to the bronze snake and be healed. What is implied in this instruction is that the very act of looking up at the pole was an act of confession – admitting that they had complained and been bitten – and of repentance – choosing to trust God both for their healing and for what they needed for their journey to the Promised Land.

For many of us denial feels like the easier option – hiding those parts of us that we would prefer not to acknowledge and blaming people and circumstances outside of us for all the evil we experience. But, our darkness, our poison, is not so easily ignored, and inevitably it comes back to bite us in some way. That’s why we so desperately need Jesus’ invitation to come to the light. The decision to accept this invitation is made possible for us by Jesus’ promise that he has come into the world not to condemn us but to save us. If we can only believe this, we will step into the light and allow our darkness and poison to be revealed in order that it can be healed. And then, not only are we liberated from all that would rob us of life, but our connections and relationships are healed as well, and we become those who bring light, healing and liberation to others. It’s a simple choice – light or darkness – but it’s one of the most important decisions we will ever make.

A Lectionary Reflection on Exodus 20:1-17 and John 2:13-22 for Lent 3B

Read more..]]> A Lectionary Reflection on Exodus 20:1-17 and John 2:13-22 for Lent 3B

Human beings have an amazing capacity for turning our freedoms into slavery and for turning slavery into freedom. The latter gift is often recognised and celebrated – not least in the famous musical by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice, Joseph and His Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat. The former capacity, though, holds a tragically destructive power and we seem almost incapable of acknowledging and correcting it.

This week’s Lectionary readings seem to be addressing this self-destructive tendency in humanity as the account of God’s gift of the Ten Commandments is placed beside John’s account of Jesus cleansing the Temple. The Old Testament reading takes us to the foot of Mount Sinai just after the Israelites have been liberated from Egypt. God is starting the process of transforming this ragtag group of slaves into a liberated and liberating community, a nation that will reflect God’s presence and purpose. To do so, God starts with giving them the basic guidelines for how a liberated people should live together. The commandments (or ten words as they are known in Jewish scholarly circles) are not intended to restrict the people, but to free them from all the things that would have been destroying them in Egypt – the idolatry, oppression, strife, self-interest, and fragmentation. The first four commandments focus on the actions and attitudes that create a liberating relationship with God, and the last six describe what liberating human relationships look like. The implication is that these instructions provide the basic systems and structures for peace, justice, freedom, compassion and love. So clearly has their liberating value been seen that the Ten Commandments have formed the basis of much human morality through the millennia.

However, centuries later, as the Rabbi Jesus comes to the Temple which is the national and religious centre of God’s liberated people, he finds that, even though the slaves had been taken out of Egypt, Egypt had not yet been taken out of the slaves. What should have been a sign of a liberated people – in spite of the Roman Occupation – a place where God’s grace, compassion, generosity and justice were daily on display, Jesus found a corrupt and oppressive place where the love for God and neighbour had all but been forgotten. The sacrificial system was based on the offering of animals that had been approved by the priests as free of blemish. However, few if any of the animals brought into the Temple by worshippers were ever approved. This meant that pre-approved animals had to be purchased, at an exorbitant price, from the Temple merchants who gave the priests a kick-back. To purchase these animals, only Temple currency could be used which was exchanged for ordinary currency at an exchange rate that favoured the money changers and ensured that the priests would, again, receive a cut. According to Richard Rohr, ninety percent of Jerusalem’s economy was based on this corrupt system, which fleeced the poor and enriched the priests.

As Jesus angrily overturned the tools of the corrupt, he quoted a sentence from a prophecy of Jeremiah (7:11). His hearers would have known what the rest of the prophecy was – an indictment on the people of Israel for breaking the Ten Commandments, for murdering, lying, cheating, and blaspheming, for trading love of God and neighbour for power, wealth and self-interest.

Naturally, the religious leaders come running to challenge Jesus, asking him by what authority he has committed this Messianic act and seeking a miracle to prove that he is the One who has the right to cleanse God’s Temple. It seems that Jesus plays with them a little here, offering them a miracle which they could never risk attempting. If they destroy the Temple, he says, he will raise it again in three days. If they were to do as Jesus says, it would already have proved that they believed he had the authority. However, because of their unbelief, they could never risk harming the Temple, and so they will never actually be able to test Jesus’ claim. It’s a conundrum that must have been deeply frustrating for them.

What they didn’t know, but that John’s Gospel points out, is that Jesus often associated himself with the Temple, and so the Gospel makes the comment that Jesus meant that his body would be destroyed and raised. The point Jesus is driving home, both in actions and in his words, is that the life of Israel has come to resemble the life of Egypt far more than the life of God’s Reign. The Temple – as indicated by the Jeremiah reference – has become an idol. Rather than providing a place to experience intimate, liberating encounter with God, it has become an end in itself, with God largely forgotten – so much so that when God is embodied in a person rather than a building, they cannot recognise it. Further, this place which was meant to teach God’s people how to love and serve one another, had become a place of exploitation, dishonesty and injustice. The very things that we are the heart of their liberated life – the Temple and the Commandments which on which it was founded – had become the instruments of enslavement.

Unfortunately, it seems that we have yet to learn the lesson Jesus was trying to teach. We still turn our places of worship and the Scriptures which they are supposed to teach into idols. We still use faith as a means to oppress, exploit and marginalise others. We still turn the freedom we have in Christ into slavery for ourselves and for all who fail to live according our view of things. But, even beyond the Church, our tendency to sacrifice our freedom remains. In Africa we have witnessed more than one liberation movement turn into a corrupt and exploitative organisation. In the United States I have read comments from those who believe that laws like the Patriot Act in the aftermath of 9/11 sacrificed freedom on the altar of security. There is no question in my mind that the way we manage wealth, assign power and use the resources of our planet all show signs of choosing slavery over true freedom.

We could use the overturning of a few tables in our systems, and we could do worse than seeking to learn again from the One who has the authority to overturn corrupt systems how to love God and love one another. The Ten Commandments still have as much relevance today as they ever did. As Benjamin Franklin famously said: “Those who desire to give up freedom in order to gain security will not have, nor do they deserve, either one.”

Ultimately everything turns to ash. That's the important reminder of today. All across the world people of faith will receive a cross of ash on their foreheads, with a prayer that goes something like this:

Dust you are and to dust you will return. Turn away from sin and follow Christ.

Read more..]]> Ultimately everything turns to ash. That’s the important reminder of today. All across the world people of faith will receive a cross of ash on their foreheads, with a prayer that goes something like this:

Dust you are and to dust you will return. Turn away from sin and follow Christ.

We do this, not because we have serious self-esteem issues, but because we have learned the value of recognising that we have a tendency to fill our lives with things that do not last, and that, in the big scheme of things, have little real value.

But, the dust also reminds us of something else – we are not just dust. We are so much more. We are created in God’s image. We are immortal beings, created out of the stuff of eternity. We are participants in the divine life and purpose, and our lives are filled, if we so choose, with so much that is truly valuable and eternal. The problem is that we too easily forget this and allow the "dust" of our lives to become what defines us.

This year I was reflecting on something that I have heard a number of scientists assert – we are all shaped out of star dust. Literally, the same atoms and molecules that now form my being, were once the stuff of stars in some distant part of the cosmos! This has become a metaphor for me. I can choose which dust I will allow to define me – I can choose to live a life that is little more than the dirt that blows around my feet, or I can recognise that I am star dust, and I can live accordingly. Tonight as I receive the cross on my forehead I will be praying a slightly different version of the Ash Wednesday prayer for myself:

Star dust you are and to star dust you will return. Turn away from what can only become ash and follow Christ into what is eternal.

Perhaps you’d like to join me?

A Lectionary Reflection on Mark 9:2-9 for Epiphany 7B

Among the concerns I have about our world, there are two that I find myself returning to rather frequently. The first is that our world moves too fast. It’s not that I am worried about the rate of change, although I know of others who a... Read more..]]> A Lectionary Reflection on Mark 9:2-9 for Epiphany 7B

Among the concerns I have about our world, there are two that I find myself returning to rather frequently. The first is that our world moves too fast. It’s not that I am worried about the rate of change, although I know of others who are. For me it’s that our decisions about values and measurements, about what is important and what deserves our attention and energy, are made too quickly, with too little consideration and reflection, and within a time frame that is too immediate. My second concern flows from this, and is a simple one. I worry that we have lost the true meaning of the word “glory”.

Perhaps I’m just getting old but, as much as I am a fan of tennis champion Rafael Nadal, I can’t help but feel that he has a lot of tennis to play before a biography is really warranted – yet there it is on the shelves of my local bookshop. I find it hard to believe that after two or three CDs, the time has come for a twenty-something musician to produce a “greatest hits” album. And I find the way the word “legend” is thrown around in sports commentaries rather unfortunate. It seems to me that when “glory” can be achieved with little or no paying of dues, with little or no real sacrifice, and with little or no lasting influence or contribution to speak of, we have devalued “glory” to the point where it no longer has value.

True glory – the kind that takes your breath away, that changes how you see the world, that inspires you to strive for your very best self – takes time to nurture and to recognise. To really encounter glory we need to slow down, we need to expand our awareness into the time frame of eternity, we need to move beyond a surface viewing to the kind of deep seeing that reveals the essence of things, and we need to become still enough to allow glory to get us firmly in its grasp. Real glory does not shine most brightly in dominance or wealth or prettiness, no matter how much we use the word to describe those things. Rather, glory is surprising. It is the irrepressible life that shines in all things but that is seen most clearly in the places and people where we would least expect it. Authentic glory is the glow of what is thoroughly good, vulnerably true and genuinely beautiful, but to experience this glory requires the time and focus of a deeper look, of opening to what the old Celts called the “thin place”.

In the Gospel reading for this Sunday, Jesus took his three closest friends up a mountain where they saw God’s glory shining through Jesus as never before. But more than this, they were learning to understand and recognise what God’s glory really is. It was a lesson they didn’t easily learn, and, once they had, didn’t quickly forget.

Immediately before the transfiguration account, Mark describes two events that may seem unrelated, but that are closely connected in his narrative. The first is the healing of blind man (8:22-26). It’s strange story because it’s the only time Jesus takes more than one attempt to bring about the healing. With the first touch, the man sees, but has no clarity – the people look like trees walking around. With the second touch his sight is completely restored. However, when the following events are taken into account, Mark’s purpose in telling this story becomes clear. Immediately after this healing, Jesus asks the disciples who the people, and then they, say he is. Peter responds with his famous declaration of Jesus as Messiah, but then, when Jesus begins to describe his coming death, Peter reprimands Jesus and is himself rebuked (8:27-33). In a sense, Mark is saying, Peter is going through the same process as the blind man. Here he has received the first phase of having his eyes opened – he has recognised Jesus as the Messiah sent by God. But, he has not yet seen what this means. He has not yet recognised what kind of Messiah Jesus is. The clarity of sight that he will need to become a true follower of Jesus still eludes him. But now, on the mountain, Peter’s eyes, and those of James and John are finally and completely opened – although it will take some time before they are able to fully live from what they have seen and learned.

This moment of glory for the disciples has a very simple message to proclaim, but it is the one that Peter had not been ready to hear. In the transformation of Jesus’ appearance, and in the cloud that overshadowed them there are strong resonances with the experience of Moses when he received the law from God at Sinai. He, too, took three specified companions up the mountain with him (Exodus 24:1). God appeared to him in a cloud, too (Exodus 24:15). And his appearance was also transformed into radiance, so that he had to put a veil over his face (Exodus 34:29-35). To drive the point home, Moses himself appears with Jesus – who now is seen to fulfil Moses’ own Messianic prophecy that a prophet like him would come to God’s people – along with another person of eschatological significance, Elijah. Again, to make sure that we don’t miss the point, Mark relates the conversation as the disciples descended the mountain about the prophecies that Elijah would appear before the Messiah was to come (Mark 9:11-13). So, Peter had seen correctly. Jesus was indeed the Messiah, and, in case he now doubted it after the difficult, death-predicting conversation that followed his insight, he has now had an experience that would have removed all doubt.

But, he has also been enabled to see more, and to see more clearly. The voice of God  now confirms that Jesus is, indeed, the Messiah, and instructs the disciples to listen to him. It’s like God is grabbing Peter and the others by the scruff of the neck and saying, “Slow down. Don’t dismiss this out of hand. Listen more carefully and allow what you have heard to sink right into your soul.” I wonder whether Peter even needed the voice. I wonder if he had already made the connection between the obvious Messianic scene he was seeing, and Jesus prediction of his death. Perhaps that was why he babbled on about building shelters for Jesus, Moses and Elijah. Perhaps he was not yet ready to accept what he now knew to be true, and he was trying to avoid, or at least postpone, the now inevitable journey to Jerusalem and the awaiting cross. Yet, as he was soon to learn, to seek this avoidance is to deny the very glory that he has just witnessed – because the glory of God that is revealed in Jesus conquers not through military might or wealth or political influence, but through a love that would rather die than cease to embrace all. The glory of God’s Reign is defined absolutely and for all time through the cross, through Jesus laying his life down for the sake of Jubilee justice and peace. There will never be a time when God’s glory is shown in destruction, blood-shed or violence, because here, on this hidden mountain, God has revealed that glory and the cross are eternally and inseparably joined. And it was only when the disciples finally saw this, that their eyes were truly and completely opened.

This final week in the season after the Epiphany offers us two gifts. The first is to receive the glorious vision of Jesus that will sustain us through the coming discipline, self-examination and repentance of Lent. It is this vision that will remind us why we need to make the sacrifices which the season of Lent calls us to embrace and make part of our lives. The second gift of this Sunday, is to prepare our hearts for the glory that will shine, in ever-increasing brightness, through the Lenten and Holy Week journeys. We do not leave glory behind as we enter Lent. Rather, we immerse ourselves more fully in the true glory of God.

The challenge for us is whether we will slow down enough to allow this vision of glory to capture our hearts; whether we will risk believing that life really is found by losing it; whether we will learn to see God’s glory shining in the places of deepest suffering, greatest destruction and most diabolical inhumanity on our planet; whether we will lose ourselves in this glorious truth, take the time to climb to the mountains where we, too, can be transfigured into radiant reflections of God’s love and grace, and then descend to take God’s liberating saving power into the world. If we will answer the call, we will discover that life – God’s life – truly cannot be quenched, but spreads, inexorably and irrepressibly, through the world, like the glow of the rising sun.

With Lent just less than two weeks away, I thought it would be a good idea to make some noise (in case you haven't picked it up yet) about a new preaching and worship resource that Sacredise has released for Lent - Living in the Promised Land.

Based on the Revised Common Lectionary readings for Year B, Read more..]]> With Lent just less than two weeks away, I thought it would be a good idea to make some noise (in case you haven’t picked it up yet) about a new preaching and worship resource that Sacredise has released for Lent – Living in the Promised Land.