A Light That Remains

February 19, 2023
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Exodus 24:12-18; Matthew 17:1-9[1]

Moses had a lot on his plate. A host of people had followed him out of Egypt, away from slavery, and toward the Promised Land. Yet here, in the desert, they suffered. They needed guidance, instruction, they needed the laws and commandments of God. Moses went up on the mountain to receive the tablets of stone, and he received something more, as well. “As he came down from the mountain with the two tablets of the covenant in his hand, Moses did not know that the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God.” (E 34:29) The light of God remained with him as he led the people of Israel to their new home.

The disciples had a lot to worry about. Just a few days before, they had been told by Jesus of the coming journey to Jerusalem, the suffering he would undergo at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, the imminence of his death, and they naturally were deeply troubled. Peter had even tried to convince Jesus to take some other path, saying, “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.” (M 16:22)

We, too, try to avoid pain and suffering, even if we know it is for the best. I don’t think anyone really enjoys going to the dentist, or getting their blood drawn. We avoid emotional pain, too, putting off hard conversations, avoiding certain topics at the family gathering.

It may seem that, in a turbulent and troubling world, the best way to keep from being hurt is stoicism, to shut away emotion, to be indifferent to pain and pleasure. If you keep everyone at a distance, don’t get involved, and build walls around your heart, you won’t have to suffer. Don’t risk feeling wonder and you won’t risk feeling heartache. You may not experience any pain or anger, but you won’t know joy and happiness either. Your ability to feel emotions, like the use of muscles, will atrophy.

We each know the pain of loss, the suffering of friends, the illness of a child, the career that has fallen apart, the relationship that has soured. We can choose to smother the pain, to elude the suffering. But what will we lose? Do we dare risk the pain of weeping in sorrow if it means we will be able to cry out in joy when we celebrate?

Jesus isn’t a safe person to be around, if you want to be a stoic. How many people were overwhelmed with joy at the healing touch, cried out praise for being set free from evil spirits, and reached out with trembling hands to touch his? How many times were the crowds filled with awe? When he chastised the authorities, did it stir up their anger? Jesus brings out our emotions, fills our hearts to overflowing, and makes us hunger for justice, mercy, and peace.

If we walk the road with Jesus, if we look with his eyes and hear with his ears, we can’t remain stoic. If we follow the story of the first disciples, we can’t help but be moved by their experience. The amazing joy and grace and kindness that caused them to follow him on the dusty roads of Galilee. The crushing pain of the capture, trial, and crucifixion. The overwhelming joy at the resurrection. If we push down our feelings, we might not cry on Calvary, but we certainly won’t be struck with awe on the mountaintop. If we don’t open our eyes when it is dark, we will never know that light that shines in the darkness.

When J.R.R. Tolkien wrote his masterpiece, The Lord of the Rings, he had known darkness and terror. He had served in the trenches of the First World War, and he understood the power of evil. Yet, he also knew the power of goodness, of hope, and of light. In the story he wrote, Frodo and his companions are charged with destroying the One Ring of power by taking it into the land of the evil Sauron. They know some of the suffering and fear that they will face. The journey will become very dark for Frodo.

The Fellowship has lost their leader, Gandalf, and they recuperate in the land of the elven queen Galadriel. She knows the darkness they face, perhaps better than any other. She offers the companions gifts to help them on their quest. Galadriel’s gift to Frodo was light. “She held up a small crystal phial: it glittered as she moved it, and rays of white light sprang from her hand. ‘In this phial,’ she said, ‘is caught the light of Eärendil’s star, set amid the waters of my fountain. It will shine still brighter when night is about you. May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out.”[2]

Frodo would face many terrors on the journey to Mordor, and in one terrible moment he and his friend are trapped by the giant spider, Shelob. In their darkest moment, the gift of light would embolden them, give them courage to face the monster, and guide them to their journey’s end.

Peter, James, and John were not stoics, but they weren’t masochists either. Faced with terrors ahead, they sought a way out, to avoid the suffering to come, not understanding that what was to come must be. As Jesus was transfigured before them on the mountain, they tried to hold on to this one amazing moment, to remain in the light of God’s power. Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” (M 17:4) Do we really have to face the future, the suffering we know is coming?

It was in that moment that God was fully present. In the voice from the cloud, they heard the reassurance of God: “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” (M 17:5) Yes, you must face what is coming. You must go back down the mountain and face the trial, the suffering, and the crucifixion. But this moment is the gift that I give to you, my presence, my light, shining through Moses, Elijah, and Jesus. My light shining in you. In all the chaos to come, the death, the loss, the fear, the confusion, I will be with you. In the bewilderment, the amazement, the hope, and the challenges to come, I will be with you. My light shines with you, and my light does not go out. I care, and I love you, and I won’t ever let you go.

We don’t get to meet Moses, Elijah, and Jesus on the mountain top. We don’t get to see, as Moses did, the appearance of the glory of the Lord, like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain. The dazzling light of Galadriel’s gift doesn’t shine for us. But when we face the world that is below the mountain, when we face the world with the suffering and fear of the cross, the world that may break us, we are not without the light of hope. The light that shone from that mountaintop can shine in our own experiences of transformation, hope, and grace. We may find the light in a sanctuary or a hospital room, on a mountain trail or the sidewalk, in a moment where when the sacred and the holy overcome our fears and give us hope.

We can choose to shut out the light, to ignore the emotions, to carry on with stoic resolve. Or we can remember that the light shines even in the dark places, that love and hope can lift us up, and we are not alone.

What happened on the mountain was God’s way of preparing the disciples for the journey they faced. They would go together, companions, a fellowship encouraging one another with memories of the light as they travelled the dark paths. The experience of knowing the true nature of Jesus, the divine light that shone from him through them, would be enough to sustain them through the crucifixion to the resurrection, and beyond.

As we enter the season of Lent, whether you take more time for reflection, sacrifice luxuries, or take on a spiritual discipline, I encourage you to experience your emotions more deeply. I entreat you to look for the light of holiness that shines even in the shadows. Remembering the transfiguration can sustain us as it did the disciples, knowing that Jesus shines a light for us when all other lights go out. We can’t avoid the sorrow and the struggle, but we can endure more than we know with the assurance that God cares, God loves us, and God has given us a light that remains.

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[1] The scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A.  Used by permission.  All rights reserved.

[2] J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring (London: HarperCollins Publishers, 1954).

Raise Up the Foundations

February 5, 2023
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Isaiah 58:1-12; Matthew 5:13-20[1]

I used to read science fiction comedy by Douglas Adams, about this average guy from a town in England who discovers his best friend is actually from another planet. In one of the novels, they have to park their spaceship in a town on Earth near a sporting event. In order to keep the spaceship from being seen, they have to use an invisibility shield. They wrap the ship in an energy field called “Somebody Else’s Problem.”[2] You see, when it’s somebody else’s problem, you don’t really notice what’s going on and you can ignore it.

Now, as Americans, we enjoy certain inalienable rights; and individual freedom and opportunity are protected in our laws. The value that our society places on the individual enables us to achieve incredible things, allows us to do and be our best, and promises that every person has value – no one is expendable.

Those who serve our country and protect those rights, particularly those in uniform, know what it means to “Be all you can be.” And they deserve our thanks for their service. Several years ago, I read an article by General Stanley McChrystal, U.S. Army, retired, former Commander of U.S. Forces in Afghanistan. The article, “Step Up for Your Country,” was published in the January 31^st, 2011 copy of Newsweek. McChrystal raised an important point about our rights and freedoms. He says, “As important as those inalienable rights are, there are also inalienable responsibilities that we must accept and fulfill.”[3]

A soldier knows a great deal about responsibility. If the unit doesn’t perform as a team, or if any member of the unit fails to do their job, someone is going to die, and it won’t be the enemy. There can be life or death consequences if anyone thinks something is somebody else’s problem. And the tremendous responsibility that comes with command in the armed forces has given McChrystal an important perspective on what many of us might dismiss as somebody else’s problem. He wrote, “We have let the concept of service become dangerously narrow, often associated only with the military.”[4] He continued, “This allows most Americans to avoid the sense of responsibility essential for us to care for our nation – and for each other.”[5]

Are there any Boy or Girl Scouts here today? You know something about responsibility as well. “‘Do a Good Turn Daily’ is a core Scouting precept. Scouting encourages young people to recognize the needs of others and take action accordingly. Scouting works through neighborhoods, volunteer organizations, and faith-based organizations to help young people appreciate and respond to the needs of others.”[6]

Shared responsibility for the well-being of our neighbors, our community, and our world is not as clearly defined in our laws. It is, however, quite clearly defined in our scriptures.

Isaiah’s people are trying to figure out what led to their exile in Babylon. They believe that they must have angered God, who punished them, and so they focus with zeal on worshiping God and over-observance of religious ritual. “Isaiah’s people appear to be very religious. They not only go to worship daily; they also fast frequently. The people complain that they have observed the fasts, but God has not answered their prayers. Isaiah has to point out that the wealthy are fasting on the holy days, but their employees still have to work.”[7] “Look, you serve your own interest on your fast-day, and oppress all your workers.”[8] Their energy is misdirected, they are missing the point, and their fasting serves no purpose. “Is such the fast that I choose, a day to humble oneself?”[9]

Isaiah suggests that observing the letter of the law misses the spirit of the law. Worship is supposed to fill us with the power of the Holy Spirit, and charge us to go forth to bring the “Day of the Lord” or the “Kingdom of God” to fruition. Worship should remind us of our responsibility to our fellow family members, the children of God. Fasting is supposed to free up resources that could be used to serve others in the community. “Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?”[10]

Both Isaiah and Jesus make the point that worship of God is about more than faithful observance of ritual. When Jesus says “unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven,”[11] he means that there is something more important than obsessive observance of the letter of the law. What God desires, offering food to the hungry, satisfying the needs of the afflicted, is what gets missed when our focus is on ourselves rather than on our responsibility to our neighbors.

In that Newsweek article,[12] General McChrystal described a situation he saw in Afghanistan. In that harsh environment, agriculture was sustained by a complex and extensive irrigation system using underground tunnels. This system was essential, and required labor-intensive maintenance. The members of the community understood their responsibility to do the work necessary to keep the system flowing. It was a shared task.

When the Soviet Union invaded in 1979, the system was damaged. Ironically, this resulted in private individuals digging their own wells and setting up their own systems, disrupting the community dynamic. What had been a unifying responsibility for all was now a source of wealth for a few – and yet another source of frustration for the rest.

In our own country, it is often more efficient and cost-effective to hire professionals to complete a project, but not if our objective is to shape our society with a sense of shared responsibility.[13]

Snow removal is a perfect example of this type of shared responsibility. Clearing the sidewalks so children can safely walk to school is the responsibility of all of us. And it’s more than just the sidewalk in front of my house – if the path ends in a snow-bank where it meets my property line, that’s a dead-end, not a safe and clear passage. Now, I have a deal with my neighbor, who has a bad back and a snow-blower, that I can use the machine and clear the snow from both properties. But ultimately our responsibility goes all the way to both corners. When it snows, if my neighbors and I work together, there will be a clear path by the next morning.

There are other examples, things that members of this congregation are already involved in. Serving at the MORE Food Pantry, or the Food Pantry in Huntley. Raking leaves and shoveling show for our neighbor with a bad back is one way our family takes responsibility for others. Loosing the bonds of injustice and letting the oppressed go free are more difficult duties, but not beyond the ability of people in this room, particularly if we work together.

Jesus said, “You are the salt of the earth.”[14] Worship of God means to bring salt to the world. Salt is that spice that brings out the flavor of food. A life lived in worship of God can enhance our experience of the world, and help us bring out the best in others. Salt also preserves food. A worshipful life helps us hold onto our heritage and all that has made us who we are. Salt makes us thirsty. Worship of God can give us a thirst for justice and the desire to end oppression.

“You are the light of the world.”[15] To be told we are the light of the world encourages us to share our gifts and talents with others. “However, there is another reason for light to shine. There is darkness in life – external and internal.”[16] “The light is not given for our own personal enjoyment.”[17] We are given the light in order to go into the darkness, “to engage and walk through it, so that, in time, the light can overcome it.”[18]

To be the light of the world is to take on the responsibility to rebuild the ancient ruins, to raise up the foundations of many generations. To be the light of the world means that we repair the breach, we restore the streets to live in. To be the light of the world means that we recognize our shared responsibility for the well-being of our world in the commandment to love our neighbor as ourselves. To be the light of the world means that we see through what seems to be somebody else’s problem, and understand that we have a responsibility to serve one another in the name of Jesus Christ.

When we bring salt and light to the world, we raise up the foundations of something better. We bring glory to God and raise up the foundations of the City of God![19]  Amen.

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[1] The Scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989, by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

[2] Douglas Adam, Life, the Universe and Everything (Harmony Books, 1982).

[3] Stanley McChrystal, “Step Up for Your Country,” Newsweek, 31 January, 2011, 36.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Boy Scouts of America, from http://www.scouting.org/Visitor/WhyScouting/ServingOthers.aspx (accessed 2/7/2011).

[7] Brett Younger, “Homiletical Perspective” on Isaiah 58:1-9a (9b-12), in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year A, Volume 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 319.

[8] Isaiah 58:3b.

[9] Isaiah 58:5a.

[10] Isaiah 58:6-7.

[11] Matthew 5:20.

[12] McChrystal, 36, 38.

[13] Ibid., 38.

[14] Matthew 5:13.

[15] Matthew 5:14.

[16] Charles James Cook, “Pastoral Perspective” on Matthew 5:13-20, in Feasting, 336.

[17] Ibid.

[18] Ibid.

[19] The worship service concluded with the singing of the hymn “You Are Salt for the Earth, O People,” paraphrase by Marty Haugen, 1986, alt.; in The New Century Hymnal (Cleveland: The Pilgrim Press, 1995), 181.

Witnesses to the Light

December 13, 2020

St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11; John 1:6-8,19-28

I have this cup. We all have one kind of like it. It is the cup that holds joy inside us. One of my favorite musicians, David Wilcox, wrote a song about the cup that holds love,[1] but I want to bend that metaphor just a little. The cup gets filled up with joy, you see, whenever we experience joy. Sometimes just a drop or two gets added to my cup, like when my son gives me a hug. Sometimes it feels like an open tap is pouring joy into my cup, like when I hear a beautiful song.

The thing is, there’s a break in the cup. There are little holes in my cup of joy that let the joy leak out. This hole was made when I heard Errol Hamilton had passed away. This one is from a young person who is having a hard time feeling like she belongs. I have lots of little ones lately from things I hear on the news.

There are some big holes in my cup, too. In my role as a minister, I sometimes hear the stories of tragedy and heartbreak in people’s lives, and I wouldn’t be human if it didn’t affect me. I have heartbreak stories of my own, like the death of my sister-in-law from cancer.

Some of these holes will heal. Some of these holes can be patched up with time and effort. Prayer and repentance can close some of the holes. But new ones will take their place. There will always be holes in my cup. And I’m sorry to say, there will always be holes in yours as well.

So, I try to recognize and be grateful for each trickle of joy. I try to be thankful for every person who has shown me some light, some joy in the world. And I try to show some light, some joy to those around me as well. We are, all of us, witnesses to the light.

John the Baptizer was a witness to the light. He made it clear to the priests and Levites from Jerusalem that he was not the light. He was not the Messiah. But John was here to cry out in the wilderness, to prepare a way, and to show us where we could find the light.

I am thankful for the fountains of joy that have filled my cup lately. I am thankful for seeing my family and celebrating the birthdays of my parents, even if it was only over Zoom. I am thankful that Bonnie is expected to make a full recovery from COVID. It gives me joy to see that my wife’s cousin, Caleb, has graduated from college. It gives me joy to talk on the phone with an old friend.

Grady Nutt, from the old TV show Hee Haw, had a saying, “Laughter is the hand of God on the shoulder of a troubled world.” Laughter is a gift of God, a gift that we need today, in this Advent season, when the news is filled with division and sickness, when all is not calm and all is not bright.

Joy and laughter are a gift we need today.  But laughter does more than fill up our cup of joy. Laughter bring us to life. There is a Proverb in the bible about this gift of laughter and our need for it: “A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a downcast spirit dries up the bones” (Proverbs 17. 22).

We all need the joy that brings us to life, like a desert blooms after the rainfall, because without joy, we’re just empty cups. And when we have been drained of all joy, that can be dangerous. We might try to fill the empty space with something that feels like joy, but isn’t. We might try to fill the void with overuse of alcohol or drugs or food. We might overindulge in other unhealthy behaviors which make holes in the cup as fast as they fill it.

We need genuine joy, the joy that comes as a gift from God, which flows freely from the beauty of nature, the love of family and friends, and the sharing of our stories of joy with one another.

The lectionary scriptures for this third Sunday of Advent speak of the power of that kind of joy:

The prophet Isaiah said:
“I will greatly rejoice in the Lord; my whole being shall exult in my God” (Isaiah 61:10).

Psalm 126 says:
“Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy” (Psalm 126:2).

And the Apostle Paul wrote to the Thessalonians:
“Rejoice always” (1 Thessalonians 5:16).

The message of the prophet Isaiah is so relevant for us because it acknowledges the pain and loss and the devastation the people of Israel had endured; and at the same time, it points to something beyond the present condition. Isaiah shares God’s promise that there is light and love and joy yet to be found.

Creation will be renewed. 
The ruined cities will be rebuilt. 
The exiles will come home. 
The oppressed will hear the good news. 
Those who mourn will be comforted.

When we witness to the light of Christ that shines into our lives, we build up the ancient ruins and repair the ruined cities. When we witness to the joy that we see in the world, when we share joy with one another, we help fill up that cup that holds joy inside us. And the more we practice witnessing to the light, the more it becomes a part of who we are and how we live our lives.

Another song by David Wilcox illustrates this way of living:

I went to see an old friend, who was soon to pass away. 
He said “This life has been so good to me, now I’ve still got one more day.” 
He said that as he watched the morning sun, and then he smiled my way; 
Because he said that every morning, he’d lived his life that way.[2]

There is the kind of experience that can fill us up with joy long after it has passed. Maybe you have some moments like that in your memory. Here is one of my joyful memories.

The summer after I graduated high school I went on a trip to Oregon with some other young people from Colorado. One day we went on a tour of the waterfalls that flow into the Columbia River. We made a stop at one place where the waterfall was back from the road through a narrow ravine. The only way to get there was to walk up the creek. People were taking off their shoes, but the rocks were slippery and hard to walk on. I remember looking at my new shoes and thinking, “I will never be here again.” I walked up the creek in my shoes to swim under that beautiful waterfall. It remains a golden moment of joy in my memory.

When Jesus was born in Bethlehem, in that region there were shepherds. They had a golden moment of joy in their memory:

“Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord’” (Luke 2:10).

Have you seen the light of joy, peace, hope, and love? Be witnesses to the Light.  Amen.

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[1] David Wilcox, “Break in the Cup” on Big Horizon © 1994.

[2] David Wilcox, “Sunshine on the Land” on Nightshift Watchman © 1987.

A Light That Remains

February 23, 2020

St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Exodus 24:12-18; Matthew 17:1-9

Moses had a lot on his plate. A host of people had followed him out of Egypt, away from slavery, and toward the Promised Land. Yet here, in the desert, they suffered. They needed guidance, instruction, they needed the laws and commandments of God. Moses went up on the mountain to receive the tablets of stone, and he received something more, as well. “As he came down from the mountain with the two tablets of the covenant in his hand, Moses did not know that the skin of his face shone because he had been talking with God.” (34:29) The light of God remained with him as he led the people of Israel to their new home.

The disciples had a lot to worry about. Just a few days before, they had been told by Jesus of the coming journey to Jerusalem, the suffering he would undergo at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, the imminence of his death, and they naturally were deeply troubled. Peter had even tried to convince Jesus to take some other path, saying, “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.” (16:22)

We, too, try to avoid pain and suffering, even if we know it is for the best. I don’t think anyone really enjoys going to the dentist, or getting their blood drawn. We avoid emotional pain, too, putting off hard conversations, avoiding certain topics at the family gathering.

It may seem that, in a turbulent and troubling world, the best way to keep from being hurt is stoicism, to shut away emotion, to be indifferent to pain and pleasure. If you keep everyone at a distance, don’t get involved, and build walls around your heart, you won’t have to suffer. Don’t risk feeling wonder and you won’t risk feeling heartache. You may not experience any pain or anger, but you won’t know joy and happiness either. Your ability to feel emotions, like the use of muscles, will atrophy.

We each know the pain of loss, the suffering of friends, the illness of a child, the career that has fallen apart, the relationship that has soured. We can choose to smother the pain, to elude the suffering. But what will we lose? Do we dare risk the pain of weeping in sorrow if it means we will be able to cry out in joy when we celebrate?

Jesus isn’t a safe person to be around, if you want to be a stoic. How many people were overwhelmed with joy at the healing touch, cried out praise for being set free from evil spirits, and reached out with trembling hands to touch his? How many times were the crowds filled with awe? When he chastised the authorities, did it stir up their anger? Jesus brings out our emotions, fills our hearts to overflowing, and makes us hunger for justice, mercy, and peace.

If we walk the road with Jesus, if we look with his eyes and hear with his ears, we can’t remain stoic. If we follow the story of the first disciples, we can’t help but be moved by their experience. The amazing joy and grace and kindness that caused them to follow him on the dusty roads of Galilee. The crushing pain of the capture, trial, and crucifixion. The overwhelming joy at the resurrection. If we push down our feelings, we might not cry on Calvary, but we certainly won’t be struck with awe on the mountaintop. If we don’t open our eyes when it is dark, we will never know that light that shines in the darkness.

When J.R.R. Tolkien wrote his masterpiece, The Lord of the Rings, he had known darkness and terror. He had served in the trenches of the First World War, and he understood the power of evil. Yet, he also knew the power of goodness, of hope, and of light. In the story he wrote, Frodo and his companions are charged with destroying the One Ring of power by taking it into the land of the evil Sauron. They know some of the suffering and fear that they will face. The journey will become very dark for Frodo.

The Fellowship has lost their leader, Gandalf, and they recuperate in the land of the elven queen Galadriel. She knows the darkness they face, perhaps better than any other. She offers the companions gifts to help them on their quest. Galadriel’s gift to Frodo was light. “She held up a small crystal phial: it glittered as she moved it, and rays of white light sprang from her hand. ‘In this phial,’ she said, ‘is caught the light of Eärendil’s star, set amid the waters of my fountain. It will shine still brighter when night is about you. May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out.”[1]

Frodo would face many terrors on the journey to Mordor, and in one terrible moment he and his friend are trapped by the giant spider, Shelob. In their darkest moment, the gift of light would embolden them, give them courage to face the monster, and guide them to their journey’s end.

Peter, James, and John were not stoics, but they weren’t masochists either. Faced with terrors ahead, they sought a way out, to avoid the suffering to come, not understanding that what was to come must be. As Jesus was transfigured before them on the mountain, they tried to hold on to this one amazing moment, to remain in the light of God’s power. Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” (17:4) Do we really have to face the future, the suffering we know is coming?

It was in that moment that God was fully present. In the voice from the cloud they heard the reassurance of God: “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” (17:5) Yes, you must face what is coming. You must go back down the mountain and face the trial, the suffering, and the crucifixion. But this moment is the gift that I give to you, my presence, my light, shining through Moses, Elijah, and Jesus. My light shining in you. In all the chaos to come, the death, the loss, the fear, the confusion, I will be with you. In the bewilderment, the amazement, the hope, and the challenges to come, I will be with you. My light shines with you, and my light does not go out. I care, and I love you, and I won’t ever let you go.

We don’t get to meet Moses, Elijah, and Jesus on the mountain top. We don’t get to see, as Moses did, the appearance of the glory of the Lord, like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain. The dazzling light of Galadriel’s gift doesn’t shine for us. But when we face the world that is below the mountain, when we face the world with the suffering and fear of the cross, the world that may break us, we are not without the light of hope. The light that shone from that mountaintop can shine in our own experiences of transformation, hope, and grace. We may find the light in a sanctuary or a hospital room, on a mountain trail or the sidewalk, in a moment where when the sacred and the holy overcome our fears and give us hope.

We can choose to shut out the light, to ignore the emotions, to carry on with stoic resolve. Or we can remember that the light shines even in the dark places, that love and hope can lift us up, and we are not alone.

What happened on the mountain was God’s way of preparing the disciples for the journey they faced. They would go together, companions, a fellowship encouraging one another with memories of the light as they traveled the dark paths. The experience of knowing the true nature of Jesus, the divine light that shone from him through them, would be enough to sustain them through the crucifixion to the resurrection, and beyond.

As we enter the season of Lent, whether you take more time for reflection, sacrifice luxuries, or take on a spiritual discipline, I encourage you to experience your emotions more deeply. I entreat you to look for the light of holiness that shines even in the shadows. Remembering the transfiguration can sustain us as it did the disciples, knowing that Jesus shines a light for us when all other lights go out. We can’t avoid the sorrow and the struggle, but we can endure more than we know with the assurance that God cares, God loves us, and God has given us a light that remains.

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[1] J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring (London: HarperCollins Publishers, 1954).

Raise Up the Foundations

February 9, 2020

St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois

Isaiah 58:1-12; Matthew 5:13-20[1]

I used to read science fiction comedy by Douglas Adams, about this average guy from a town in England who discovers his best friend is actually from another planet. In one of the novels, they have to park their spaceship in a town on Earth near a sporting event. In order to keep the spaceship from being seen, they have to use an invisibility shield. They wrap the ship in an energy field called “Somebody Else’s Problem.”[2] You see, when it’s somebody else’s problem, you don’t really notice what’s going on and you can ignore it.

Now, as Americans, we enjoy certain inalienable rights; and individual freedom and opportunity are protected in our laws. The value that our society places on the individual enables us to achieve incredible things, allows us to do and be our best, and promises that every person has value – no one is expendable.

Those who serve our country and protect those rights, particularly those in uniform, know what it means to “Be all you can be.” And they deserve our thanks for their service. Several years ago, I read an article by General Stanley McChrystal, U.S. Army, retired, former Commander of U.S. Forces in Afghanistan. The article, “Step Up for Your Country,” was published in the January 31^st, 2011 copy of Newsweek. McChrystal raised an important point about our rights and freedoms. He says, “As important as those inalienable rights are, there are also inalienable responsibilities that we must accept and fulfill.”[3]

A soldier knows a great deal about responsibility. If the unit doesn’t perform as a team, or if any member of the unit fails to do their job, someone is going to die, and it won’t be the enemy. There can be life or death consequences if anyone thinks something is somebody else’s problem. And the tremendous responsibility that comes with command in the armed forces has given McChrystal an important perspective on what many of us might dismiss as somebody else’s problem. He wrote, “We have let the concept of service become dangerously narrow, often associated only with the military.”[4] He continued, “This allows most Americans to avoid the sense of responsibility essential for us to care for our nation – and for each other.”[5]

Are there any Boy or Girl Scouts here today? You know something about responsibility as well. “‘Do a Good Turn Daily’ is a core Scouting precept. Scouting encourages young people to recognize the needs of others and take action accordingly. Scouting works through neighborhoods, volunteer organizations, and faith-based organizations to help young people appreciate and respond to the needs of others.”[6]

Shared responsibility for the well-being of our neighbors, our community, and our world is not as clearly defined in our laws. It is, however, quite clearly defined in our scriptures.

Isaiah’s people are trying to figure out what led to their exile in Babylon. They believe that they must have angered God, who punished them, and so they focus with zeal on worshiping God and over-observance of religious ritual. “Isaiah’s people appear to be very religious. They not only go to worship daily; they also fast frequently. The people complain that they have observed the fasts, but God has not answered their prayers. Isaiah has to point out that the wealthy are fasting on the holy days, but their employees still have to work.”[7] “Look, you serve your own interest on your fast-day, and oppress all your workers.”[8] Their energy is misdirected, they are missing the point, and their fasting serves no purpose. “Is such the fast that I choose, a day to humble oneself?”[9]

Isaiah suggests that observing the letter of the law misses the spirit of the law. Worship is supposed to fill us with the power of the Holy Spirit, and charge us to go forth to bring the “Day of the Lord” or the “Kingdom of God” to fruition. Worship should remind us of our responsibility to our fellow family members, the children of God. Fasting is supposed to free up resources that could be used to serve others in the community. “Is not this the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke, to let the oppressed go free, and to break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house; when you see the naked, to cover them, and not to hide yourself from your own kin?”[10]

Both Isaiah and Jesus make the point that worship of God is about more than faithful observance of ritual. When Jesus says “unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven,”[11] he means that there is something more important than obsessive observance of the letter of the law. What God desires, offering food to the hungry, satisfying the needs of the afflicted, is what gets missed when our focus is on ourselves rather than on our responsibility to our neighbors.

In that Newsweek article,[12] General McChrystal described a situation he saw in Afghanistan. In that harsh environment, agriculture was sustained by a complex and extensive irrigation system using underground tunnels. This system was essential, and required labor-intensive maintenance. The members of the community understood their responsibility to do the work necessary to keep the system flowing. It was a shared task.

When the Soviet Union invaded in 1979, the system was damaged. Ironically, this resulted in private individuals digging their own wells and setting up their own systems, disrupting the community dynamic. What had been a unifying responsibility for all was now a source of wealth for a few – and yet another source of frustration for the rest.

In our own country, it is often more efficient and cost-effective to hire professionals to complete a project, but not if our objective is to shape our society with a sense of shared responsibility.[13]

Snow removal is a perfect example of this type of shared responsibility. Clearing the sidewalks so children can safely walk to school is the responsibility of all of us. And it’s more than just the sidewalk in front of my house – if the path ends in a snow-bank where it meets my property line, that’s a dead-end, not a safe and clear passage. Now, I have a deal with my neighbor, who has a bad back and a snow-blower, that I can use the machine and clear the snow from both properties. But ultimately our responsibility goes all the way to both corners. When it snows, if my neighbors and I work together, there will be a clear path by the next morning.

There are other examples, things that members of this congregation are already involved in. Serving at the MORE Food Pantry, or the Food Pantry in Huntley. Raking leaves and shoveling show for our neighbor with a bad back is one way our family takes responsibility for others. Loosing the bonds of injustice and letting the oppressed go free are more difficult duties, but not beyond the ability of people in this room, particularly if we work together.

Jesus said, “You are the salt of the earth.”[14] Worship of God means to bring salt to the world. Salt is that spice that brings out the flavor of food. A life lived in worship of God can enhance our experience of the world, and help us bring out the best in others. Salt also preserves food. A worshipful life helps us hold onto our heritage and all that has made us who we are. Salt makes us thirsty. Worship of God can give us a thirst for justice and the desire to end oppression.

“You are the light of the world.”[15] To be told we are the light of the world encourages us to share our gifts and talents with others. “However, there is another reason for light to shine. There is darkness in life – external and internal.”[16] “The light is not given for our own personal enjoyment.”[17] We are given the light in order to go into the darkness, “to engage and walk through it, so that, in time, the light can overcome it.”[18]

To be the light of the world is to take on the responsibility to rebuild the ancient ruins, to raise up the foundations of many generations. To be the light of the world means that we repair the breach, we restore the streets to live in. To be the light of the world means that we recognize our shared responsibility for the well-being of our world in the commandment to love our neighbor as ourselves. To be the light of the world means that we see through what seems to be somebody else’s problem, and understand that we have a responsibility to serve one another in the name of Jesus Christ.

When we bring salt and light to the world, we raise up the foundations of something better. We bring glory to God and raise up the foundations of the City of God![19]  Amen.

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[1] The Scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989, by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

[2] Douglas Adam, Life, the Universe and Everything (Harmony Books, 1982).

[3] Stanley McChrystal, “Step Up for Your Country,” Newsweek, 31 January, 2011, 36.

[4] Ibid.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Boy Scouts of America, from http://www.scouting.org/Visitor/WhyScouting/ServingOthers.aspx (accessed 2/7/2011).

[7] Brett Younger, “Homiletical Perspective” on Isaiah 58:1-9a (9b-12), in Feasting on the Word: Preaching the Revised Common Lectionary, Year A, Volume 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 319.

[8] Isaiah 58:3b.

[9] Isaiah 58:5a.

[10] Isaiah 58:6-7.

[11] Matthew 5:20.

[12] McChrystal, 36, 38.

[13] Ibid., 38.

[14] Matthew 5:13.

[15] Matthew 5:14.

[16] Charles James Cook, “Pastoral Perspective” on Matthew 5:13-20, in Feasting, 336.

[17] Ibid.

[18] Ibid.

[19] The worship service concluded with the singing of the hymn “You Are Salt for the Earth, O People,” paraphrase by Marty Haugen, 1986, alt.; in The New Century Hymnal (Cleveland: The Pilgrim Press, 1995), 181.