Tag: The Gospel in Solentiname

Jesus, Our Anchor Between

“‘Dear Lord God, I wish to preach in your honor. I wish to speak about you, glorify you, praise your name. Although I can’t do this well of myself, I pray that you may make it good.’”[1]

Introduction

A new year is upon us. 2025 is now in the books; 2026 remains unknown as it stretches out before us. We are caught between letting go and taking in, wrapping up and rolling out, caught between what was and what will be. The beginning of a new year always invites resolutions and promises, some of which will be broken and others fulfilled. Somethings we can leave behind in 2025, others we will carry with us into 2026. For some of us there’s excitement as we think about all the unknown terrain to be discovered over the next 361 days; others of us may be feeling the heaviness the new year brings, fearing and worrying as we contemplate the potential for (more) loss and (more) pain to come our way.

The reality is that most of us probably have some form of all these feelings as we celebrate the new year. We are both excited and nervous, confident and skeptical, in control and not in control. So, it can be hard to feel anchored at this time between two years—one being completed and one barely started. And because we are caught between all these emotions and feelings, we can’t find our anchor in ourselves because that’s where all the instability is currently residing. So, where do we look?

Outside of ourselves. And this is the power of the Christmas season. Something new (even if the story is quite old) is born among us and to us and in us. Jesus, the Christ, is given to us anew, again. And while on Christmas Eve we were part of the rabble invited to the manger among shepherds and animals to look upon the newborn child who is the savior of the world, today we are invited to witness Jesus as tween participating in religious (and family!) life in a new way. The anchor we need at the beginning of this new year is found in Jesus the young and curious teacher and learner.

Luke 2:41-52

Luke tells us that Mary and Joseph were traveling to Jerusalem every year for the festival of the Passover. And when [Jesus] was twelve, they went [to Jerusalem] according to the custom of the festival and when the days of the festival came to an end, they returned and the boy Jesus remained in Jerusalem, but his parents did not know (vv.41-43). Every year for eleven years they traveled, as a family, to Jerusalem for the celebration of the festival of the Passover; every year for eleven years Jesus returned with them. And then, at year twelve, Jesus remains while the family leaves. Luke doesn’t give us a reason (upfront) about why Jesus decided to stay back or if it was an accident as if he was caught up in the events and the dialogues indwelling and swirling about the synagogue and in Jerusalem and couldn’t pull himself away. What is clear is that something new is happening; Luke wants his audience to see a shift in the narrative, to take note of Jesus’s self-differentiation from his family, his parents and siblings, even any extended family that may have been in the traveling company.

Luke continues the story, But considering him to be in the company, they went a day’s journey and then they were seeking carefully for him among the relatives and acquaintances. When they did not find [him], they turned back toward Jerusalem and were seeking carefully for him. After three days, they found him in the temple sitting down in the middle of the teachers and listening to and enquiring of them (vv44-46). Following Luke’s story, Jesus is missing for at least five days if not six. While it took his parents a harrowing three days to find him in the temple, he (most likely) spent more than just that moment (preceding his being found) in the temple. He spent about a week; a week is plenty of time to form observant opinions and rational conclusions.[i] Now, there is a correlation here between Jesus being found by his parents on the third day in the temple and Jesus being found on the third day after his death in resurrected glory; [ii] I’m not sure that’s Luke’s main point. Luke’s point is to make known the very beginning of Jesus’s ministry at a young age. While we know his active ministry starts at the Epiphany, what Luke is showing his audience is that the very beginning—the inception/conception—is here; for it’s here where Jesus is listening and asking, answering and debating with the very same religious leaders he will come into conflict with later when he’s an adult. It’s here, for Luke, where Jesus begins to make himself known and where Jesus begins to become aware of the toxicity of the religious situation for the people of God.[iii] Here, for Luke, God is moving Jesus’s spirit and planting the seeds of God’s divine gospel proclamation that will come.

So, after a week his parents find him and he’s teaching and questioning the elders of the synagogue. Then Luke tells us, Now, all the ones who were listening to him were amazed about his understanding and answers. And after seeing him, they were struck with astonishment and his mother said to him, “Child, why did you do this to us in this way? behold, your father and I were seeking you with suffering pain.” And he said to them, “Why were you seeking me? Did you not consider that it was necessary for me to be in this place of my father?” (v47). Not only has Jesus separated himself from his family, but he is also separating himself from the authorities of the synagogue. Their amazement at his insight and answers indicates that his comments and questions were not textbook but came from a different source, a divine inspiration, a divine, prophetic stirring. And this is what Luke wants his audience to see, to focus on, wherein to find anchor. Jesus the Christ, Jesus the child of Mary; Jesus the Son of God, Jesus the Son of humanity. It is through this one that God will challenge and overhaul the kingdom of humanity through the reign of God; it is through this one that the oppressed (spiritually and politically oppressed) will find liberation not only spiritual liberation with God but political liberation with the neighbor from the systemic oppression of the kingdom of humanity. It is through this divine child of Mary that the challenge and collision of the reign of God with the kingdom of humanity is already starting.[iv],[v] It is in and through this one that the very center of the temple[vi] will be relocated away from cold stones and in fleshy human hearts, away from cold law obedience and to warm faith wherein the law is satisfied and done.[vii]

Conclusion

As we enter this new year—with all its unknown and uncertainty, with all its mileage laying out before us and unchartered territory—we enter with a story of God for humanity guiding our way. We are given someone to walk with: Jesus the Christ, God’s son. So, we enter this new year knowing something significant and timeless: for God so love the world that God gave God’s only son to bring love, life, and liberation to the unloved, the dead, and the captive. Luke gives us a place to look, a focal point, something to allow our anxious minds and nervous hearts to focus on and find anchor. Luke gives us someone outside of ourselves to look to: Jesus of Nazareth, this man who is God. Christmas will always remind us that God comes to dwell with human beings on earth. This is God’s desire: to dwell with humanity whom God loves with all God’s heart. So, with resolutions or not, with promises or not, with intentions or not for this new year, we enter this new year with an ancient story made new to us at this moment. And in this ancient story we find the fulfillment of all we were waiting for through Advent: hope for the hopeless, peace for the peaceless, joy for the joyless, and love for the loveless.

[1] LW 54:157-158; Table Talk 1590.

[i] Ernesto Cardenal, The Gospel in Solentiname, translated by Donald D. Walsh (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2010), 46. “Olivia: ‘he went to the temple to teach the teachers of the law, because these teachers knew the law by heart but they didn’t put it into practice.’”

[ii] Cardenal, Solentiname, 46. “Olivia: ‘He also did it to help prepare them. He was going to be away from them later. And once Mary and his other relatives came looking for him, and he told them that his family was the community. And then Mary lost him in death, but on the third day, like here in the temple, he was found.’”

[iii] Cardenal, Solentiname, 46-47. “…Jesus was taken to the temple by his parents, in accordance with the religious traditions that they faithfully observed, ‘as was the custom,’ as the Gospel says. There he saw the Jewish religion, legalistic pharisaical, external. He also saw the money-changers that he was going to drive out later. And then, when his parents were leaving, he went back to the temple to see if he could do something to change the situation.”

[iv] Cardenal, Solentiname, 46. “Felipe…: ‘In this Gospel Jesus appears as a rebellious kid. He’s still a child and he’s already in the temple challenging their religion, criticizing and arguing with those guys, giving them arguments they can’t answer.’”

[v] Cardenal, Solentiname, 47. “Felipe: ‘Conclusion, then: Jesus was a revolutionary from childhood.’”

[vi] Gonzalez, Luke, 44. “The temple is the sign of God’s presence in the midst of the people.”

[vii] Justo L. Gonzalez, Luke, Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible, eds. Amy Plantinga Pauw and William C. Placher (Louisville: WJK, 2010), 43. Potential echo of 1 Samuel 2:26 in Luke 2:52. And, “Furthermore, Samuel’s connection both with the temple and with Jesus hint at the typology that sees Jesus as the new and final temple of God. For this reason, a common theme in early Christian theology was that the destruction of the temple showed that it was no longer necessary, for the temple prefigured the one who had already come.”

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Nothing to Lose; Everything to Gain

“‘Dear Lord God, I wish to preach in your honor. I wish to speak about you, glorify you, praise your name. Although I can’t do this well of myself, I pray that you may make it good.’”[i]

Now it happened, writes Luke, in those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus to take a census of all the inhabited world … and all the people were going to enroll, each one to their own city (v1,3). Luke’s story about the event of Christ’s Nativity contrasts with what we expect it to be. Experiences and feelings of hope and peace, of love and joy, fill our expectations of Christmas and its season. But, on that night, for Mary and Joseph, for the shepherds at work, there was no hope and peace, there was no joy and love. There was fear. There was anxiety. There was chaos. There was pain (physical and emotional, maybe even spiritual). There was worry and concern threading through every thought and action. There were people struggling to find bravery when they needed it the most.

Luke narrows the scope of the story, focusing in on Joseph and Mary humbly going on their way: Now, Joseph went up from Galilee out of the city of Nazareth into Judea into the city of David being called Bethlehem because he was of the house and lineage of David. He went to be registered with Mary, the one who had been betrothed to him and the one who was pregnant (vv4-5). On that night, Mary and Joseph made a tough journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem. The path wasn’t easy, the ride wasn’t smooth, the forecast was unknown, and there was no confirmation that when they got to Bethlehem there would be lodging. On that night, all was not calm; it was scary and unknown because, on that night, tensions rose and the potential for harm from chaos loomed with every step they took. Adding to this heavy burden, Mary was ready to give birth to her first-born son; her body ached, her spirit fatigued, her mind consumed with what might happen if her time came. On that night, she fought to be brave—walking all that way, not wanting to be a burden to Joseph, unknowing of what was to happen or what would come. Where was God in this for Mary?

And what of Joseph on that night? We don’t hear much about his plight as he made his way, leading the pregnant Mary, to Bethlehem, away from the comfort of his own town of Nazareth, the places and spaces he knew so well. The discomfort of the unfamiliar road and journey barely eclipsed the rolling and roaming narrative in his head: is she telling me the truth? I know the angel spoke to me, but it feels strange, surreal, farfetched… Thoughts of the census accompanied his human doubt and questioning, what will happen to use once this census is done and all the chips are collected into wealthy pockets?[ii] As they traveled into Bethlehem and faced closed door after closed door, Joseph’s brave face faltered as he watched Mary’s face give way to the first pangs of labor. Now it happened, Luke writes, while being there, her days completed… (v6)One prayer passed over his lips, please let me find somewhere safe for her, for him…this child… that’s not even mine… Everything felt up to him; as frustration, fear, and maybe even some resentment began to surface, the burden continued to weigh down on his shoulders.[iii] Where was God in this for Joseph?

In a stable in Bethlehem, they felt safe enough. …[Mary] brought for her first-born son, and she wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger because there was not lodging for them (v7). Neither Joseph nor Mary thought this situation ideal, but it was what it was. And, for now, the child was safe in the wooden manger and hay, among the animals forming fortress around the exhausted couple and the long-awaited Messiah of Israel and the world. Those who felt exhausted from the long, lonely journey, felt beleaguered by the socio-political demands of Caesar Augustus and Syrian Governor Quirinius,[iv] and isolated from family, those who wondered where God was in their plight, now had God in their midst, dwelling among them. God as brave, poor[v] infant daring to face the world in vulnerable humanity: to feel every pain, every sadness, every frustration with systems and ideologies set up and upheld just to keep the already down, down. This one, this brave divine infant, will be the one to heal the fractures existing among humanity and between humanity and God and creation, the fractures that fuel injustice, war, hatred, domination, inequality and inequity, disunity and discord.[vi]

And Shepherds were in that region spending the night and keeping guard through the night over their flock (v8). The shepherds held ground in that dark night, in that silent night. There was, of course, worry about potential animal attacks on their sheep;[vii] there was more worry about what would happen to them and their flock once the census completed. How much more will I lose? I already have so little and this feels like a kick in the gut while down… The shepherds feared not the literal wolf, but the metaphorical one, the one against whom they could not fight and if they did, they knew they would not win.[viii] The shepherds, the oppressed of the oppressed, where afraid; it is quite certain their blanket of anxiety that night did not keep them warm but it sure kept them awake and on guard.[ix] That night, those shepherds didn’t feel that brave as the powerful were gearing up to take what they wanted and they couldn’t do anything about it. Where was God for them?

And then to those who were eager to stay unseen and unnoticed, were exposed by divine, celestial light.[x] Luke describes,

And then an angel of God came upon them and the glory of God illuminated them, and they were frightened with a great fear. And the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid! For, BEHOLD!, I announce to you great joy whichsoever will be for all the people. A savior was born for you today—who is the Lord Christ—in the city of David. And this is a sign for you, you will find a newborn child having been wrapped in swaddling closes and being laid in a manger. And suddenly it happened a great number, an army of heaven appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to the most High God and upon earth peace among humanity whom God favors!” And it happened the angels left from them into heaven… (vv9-15a).

Heavenly light encompassed the shepherds, and for this moment they are center stage in this divine drama. It’s not Jesus the Christ, it’s not God in a ball of fire or voluptuous cloud, it’s not kings or princes, not emperors or governors, it’s not even Mary, the “God-bearer”, who is the center of attention here. It’s the shepherds, the lowly, unclean, unknown, unseen, not-all-that-brave-in-this-instance shepherds.[xi] They are not only addressed by divine representative, they are sent to go find God in a stable, in the hay and wood, among animals, among two very tired, fatigued new parents.

And they go! They are addressed by divine messengers and they are terrified by them,[xii] but they still go because there is always comfort and joy in God’s Goodnews.[xiii] Luke tells us, and they went and hastened and they found Mary and Joseph and the newborn child being laid in the manger (v16). These shepherds feeling, a bit unbrave against the raging of the kingdom of humanity, feel empowered by divine Spirit to go and dare to be in the presence of God without an mediator they know of. These lowly are now the brave, these unclean are now the righteous ones seeking and finding God in God’s humble abode and vulnerable body, it is these humble who are the first to be sent on a great divine mission in the world seeking, finding, and embracing the one who will bring both spiritual and temporal[xiv] release and instigate the divine mission of the revolution of life, love, and liberation to Israel and to the world to defeat the death, indifference, and captivity of the kingdom of humanity.[xv]

Conclusion

Every year I tell you that we are the shepherds, we are part of the rabble that is surrounding the baby Christ in the wooden manger and straw bedding. And this isn’t wrong, we are.[xvi] We are the ones peering in and being vicariously included, completely invited in this story as witnesses and onlookers.[xvii] We are the ones filled with anxiety, plagued with sorrow and grief, dreading what is to come from our own socio-political realities…more anger? More strife? More fear? More division and derision? We’re the ones struggling to be brave in the face of it all. And we’re the ones met tonight by the divine baby in the manger just like the shepherds.

But it’s more than just that; there’s more good news. The theme of tonight’s sermon is bravery. It is the case, in the divine economy, that those who have the least to lose can be the bravest.

Why did Mary say yes to God all those months ago? Because she, the lowly and poor, had little to lose and everything to gain.

Why did Joseph say yes to Mary by way of angelic vision? Because he, the lowly and poor, had little to lose and everything to gain.

Why did the shepherds say yes and hasten to find the new family carrying divine hope, peace, joy, and love into and for the world? Because they, the lowly and poor, had little to lose and everything to gain.

These are the bravest. And each of them was sent by divine summons to go and be in the world in a new way: a way trusting God, a way following Christ, a way empowered by the divine Spirit of God.

The baby is delivered. The mother is exhausted. Step-dad, too. The angels and the host of heaven have announced, glorified, and sang. The shepherds have heard and have found. But the work of Christmas is just beginning… because the baby of Christmas, Jesus the Christ, is born in our hearts tonight and now we become the brave ones called and sent.

“The Work of Christmas” —by Howard Thurman
When the song of the angels is stilled,
When the star in the sky is gone,
When the kings and princes are home,
When the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
To heal the broken,
To feed the hungry,
To release the prisoner,
To rebuild the nations,
To bring peace among others,
To make music in the heart.

Tonight, we are, along with the Shepherds, along with Joseph, and along with Mary, being sent to do something brave: to dare to have hope, dare to work for peace, dare to rejoice, and dare to love. And we can dare to do such things because this daring comes with nothing to lose, and everything to gain. It is by our faith in Christ, the humble, vulnerable infant born this night, that we can dare because he has gone before us and promises to be with us every step of the way. Immanuel, Immanuel, has ransomed captive Israel.

[i] LW 54:157-158; Table Talk 1590.

[ii] Gonzalez, Luke, 33. “A census had sinister implications. It was not just counting people in order to see how many they were, and what population trends were. In ancient times, and long thereafter, a census was in fact an inventory of all the wealth of a region—its people its animals, and its crops—so that the government would be able to tax people to the maximum. A census usually announced greater poverty and exploitation. It was as welcome among the subjects of the Roman Empire as undocumented immigrants in industrialized nations welcome a census today.”

[iii] Gonzalez, Luke, 33. “As usual, oppression is not a merely political matter, the concern only of those directly involved in politics. It also reaches the everyday lives of people, as is seen in the very fact that Jospeh and Mary have to travel to Bethlehem even though she is about to give birth.”

[iv] Gonzalez, Luke, 33. “The setting is rather that of people living under an oppressive regime. The mention of August and Quirinius—as earlier the mention of Herod—is political charged. For a period before the advent of the Roman Empire, the Jews had been struggling against Syrian domination. Now their land was ruled from Syria by a governor appointed by Rome. Whatever the actual chronology may have been, the political structure is clear: the Jews have a puppet government under Syrian and Roman power.”

[v] Cardenal, Solentiname, 24. “‘[Christ] was the greatest revolutionary, because being God he identified with the poor and he came down from heaven to become a member of the lower class and he gave his life for us all. The way I see it, we all ought to struggle like that for other people and be like him. Get together and be brave.’”

[vi] Ernesto Cardenal, The Gospel in Solentiname, translated by Donald D. Walsh (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2010), 23. “[Jesus] was born into a humanity divided and dominated by crime in order to unite us and to change the order of things. And that’s where we are.”

[vii] Justo L. Gonzalez, Luke, Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible, eds. Amy Plantinga Pauw and William C. Placher (Louisville: WJK, 2010), 33. “This is not a mellow. Bucolic story about some shepherds tending their sheep with little or no care beyond the possibility of a wandering wolf. That is not the setting in which Luke presents the story.”

[viii] Gonzalez, Luke, 33-34. The shepherds, “they live out in the fields, suffer all kinds of deprivations and even dangers, in order to protect their flocks. But the census threatens a new danger, a wolf more dangerous than any four-legged beast, a wolf that will probably decimate their flocks, and whom they cannot fight, for it is too powerful. It is not difficult to imagine what would be the talk of such shepherds as they sought to remain awake through the night.”

[ix] Gonzalez, Luke, 34. “…the setting itself was one of fear and oppression.”

[x] Gonzalez, Luke, 34. “One of the ways in which the ‘little people’ mange to survive under oppressive regimes is not to call attention to themselves. They seek to go on with their lives unnoticed by the powerful, who could easily crush them. Now these shepherds are literally in the lime-light and an obviously powerful personage confronts them.”

[xi] Cardenal, Solentiname, 26. “Felipe: ‘The angel came to them because they were working men, and I find this is very important for us. Because they were poor little people who were working. They were watching over their sheep which is like taking care of cattle today. They were workers, laborers, poor people. The angle of God could have gone to the king’s palace and said to him: ‘The Savior has been born.’ But the angel didn’t go where the king was but where the poor people were, which means that this message is not for the big shots but for the poor little guys, which means the oppressed, which means us.’”

[xii] Gonzalez, Luke, 34. “It is in that scene, perhaps silent, but not as peaceful as we tend to depict it, that an angel suddenly appears before the shepherds, and they are terrified. Their fear is not surprising.”

[xiii] Gonzalez, Luke, 35. “An encounter with God’s power and might leads to awe and terror, but then God’s gracious word produces joy and comfort.”

[xiv] Gonzalez, Luke, 36. “The title, ‘Savior’ (sōtēr) was employed in the Septuagint (the Greek version of the Hebrew Bible that Luke used) to refer both to God and to those whom God sense to liberate Israel. In the Hebrew scriptures, the function of such liberators in either purely religious nor purely political.”

[xv] Gonzalez, Luke, 36. “The ‘saviors’ in the Hebrew Scriptures liberate Israel from its political oppressors so that the people may be free to serve and obey God…Thus when the angel announces Jesus as ‘Savior,’ his declaration has both political and religious overtones. The child who had been born will free the people from bondage—bondage both to their sins and to their oppressors.”

[xvi] Cardenal, Solentiname, 26. Thomas Peña “‘The way I see it is that those guys who were watching over their sheep heard good news. There they were just like us here, and they heard good news.’”

[xvii] Cardenal, Solentiname, 28. “I: ‘That’s right. At this very moment you are receiving the same news form the angel that the shepherds received.’”

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Look and Listen; See and Hear

Psalm 99:4-5 “O mighty God, lover of justice, you have established equity; you have executed justice and righteousness in Jacob.” Proclaim the greatness of our God … Abba God is the Holy One.

Introduction

We lose our way. Sometimes we roam from one room of the house to another forgetting why we entered the room we just entered, wondering where our phone is while using its flashlight to look for it, unable to find the glasses that are on our face. To lose our way is human; our memories (even at their best) aren’t that good. Have you ever had that experience where you are certain you remember exactly how a story goes or what a person looks like, only to find out that you don’t remember that story/that person as well as you thought?

Sometimes we lose our focus thus our way concerning what’s important in the world. We become caught in and trapped by (enslaved to?) our ideologies, worshipping them while forsaking God and other human beings. We get lost in trying to carve out our space in the kingdom of humanity, adhering to the lies of “The life-hack life,” “the grind-mindset life,” “the girl-boss life,” “the dog-eat-dog life,” “the last-one-standing-gets-everything” life, the “austerity” life….all of these not only take from us—slowly diminishing the allure of our God-given human glory and dignity—but lead us down paths and to locations that are down-right opposed toward keeping human life human.[1]

We lose our ways even spiritually. We can deconstruct and demythologize ourselves and the world to the point where there’s nothing of substance under our feet, just a voracious and insatiable void sucking everything—and everyone—into it offering no solutions or answers just more and more questions. We lose our ways, wandering from creativity and dreams of “better than this” and “possibly”. We become trapped in the material reality of the world, forgetting the spiritual still exists whether you believe it or not. We wander from God, lured by our hubris, cash, diplomas, and power convinced we are the masters of our own destinies.

Sometimes we lose our way because the way, our way, the path we were on is taken from us, stripped out from under our feet; what was known and steady is now unfamiliar and irregular. Everything feels confusing, comfort is lost, trust and safety are challenged, vulnerability skyrockets and defenses go up. This was a violent disruption, a chaos eruption. What’s to come? *shrug*

So, humans lose their ways—in one form or another, from one degree to another. And sometimes we need to be lovingly interrupted and become reoriented to the present, to feel the coolness and comfort of the cloud descending upon us, and become still long enough to hear the divine voice call to us to listen, to look, and to touch the one who is with us even in the midst of this…

Luke 9:28-36

But while [Peter] was saying these things a cloud occurred and was enveloping them. And they were afraid while they entered into the cloud. And a voice sounded from the cloud saying, “This one is my son, the one who has been picked out [for/by me]; listen to him.” (Luke 9:34-35)[2]

In our gospel passage we come face to face with a story telling us who Jesus is (again). This story exists outside of our intellectual and rational grasp; we may feel the trap of trying to trivialize the story, to make it about us, drawing too tight of a correlation between Peter’s (appropriate) verbal bumbling and our understanding of good discipleship (i.e. disciples can’t stay on the mountain top, they must come back down the mountain and travel along the valleys). We should resist this temptation. [3] It may seem counterintuitive to resist this temptation, for what negative could come from seeing ourselves in this story and subsequently applying it to our lives? Well, while I love you tons and God loves all of us even more, not every story is about us. In other words, if we make it about us and our discipleship, we will miss what God is telling us through Luke about Jesus.

According to the details of this story and who shows up to stand with and speaks about Jesus, Luke really wants his reader to think about the great event of the Exodus (back in the book of Exodus with Moses, Israel, Pharoah, and an Angel of Death) and keep in mind the very recent event of Jesus’s baptism back in chapter 3 (where the divine voice declared Jesus to be God’s son and, also, exhorted the audience to listen to him).[4] So, for Luke, Jesus is beginning another journey; whereas Jesus’s baptism signified the beginning of his public ministry, this event signifies the beginning of the work to be done in and thru Jerusalem to his death[5] on the cross.[6]

Now, I know I said that this isn’t really about us, but we are impacted by this knowledge. Luke’s point to his audience (thus to us) is that the one walking with them—through all that lies ahead—is none other than the one who is equivalent to Moses and Elijah, [7],[8] the one who is the son of the God of liberation, of love, or life, the son of God who defends the oppressed. [9] By focusing on Jesus, Luke turns the head of his audience to look [10] and see[11], to remember that no matter what is coming, Jesus, the son of God, the incarnate Word of God, goes with them no matter if it’s into the darkness of the tomb and death of Good Friday or into the unfamiliar and irregular of the new creation of Easter’s Resurrected life.[12]

But it’s not only important for Luke that his audience see who Christ is, but that they hear, too, who this Jesus is they’ve been following thus far.[13] This isn’t an event being orchestrated by human ingenuity or reason, it’s a divine event and God, Abba God, is the one whose loving, life-giving, liberative hand is behind it. Thus, Jesus is not just any person or some good teacher and sage; Jesus is this God’s son,[14] Jesus of Nazareth is the son of their God, the one who liberated their fore parents from Egypt, the one who sides with the oppressed. So, for Luke, this Jesus is to be listened to because he is reliable[15] and because an exodus is coming again.[16] Jesus, like Moses and God through Moses before him, will be liberating the captives from all forms of captivity; [17] yet this time the scale of liberation is bigger and includes liberation from death.[18] Luke provides for his audience a crystal clear picture in the midst of the cloud on the mountain top: what’s to come is going to feel more like losing one’s way than knowing where one is going, but don’t lose heart, the one who goes ahead and among you is God of very God. They will need this picture, experience, seeing and hearing so that they can walk through the chaos, tumult, and darkness to come.

Conclusion

I’ll take back what I said at the beginning about this story not being about us. It is. We should identify—very much—with the disciples, with Luke’s audience. We should see ourselves being addressed by the divine voice speaking from the cloud, addressed by the showing up of Moses and Elijah, and addressed by who Jesus is. We are to look and see, to listen and hear who this one is. We should feel the cool mist as we are enveloped in the cloud that is descending upon the mountain, taking into it all who stand there: Jesus, Moses and Elijah (even as they are leaving), the disciples, and us, Luke’s very distant audience. Why should we see ourselves incorporated in and addressed here in an ancient text and far-out story?

Because we lose our ways. Either because we’ve lost focus or because our way has been yanked out from under us and everything is now very upside down, we need to see and hear again who this Jesus is we claim to follow, the one who is the fullness of our justification and righteousness by faith alone, the one who is the physical manifestation of God who is, according to the bible, the God of liberation and freedom, the God of the divine revolution of love and life.[19] And in accepting that we are being addressed we begin to find our way again, we can begin to focus again, we can be reoriented toward God because of our orientation toward Christ and by the power of the Holy Spirit and, thusly, toward each other in love.[20]

[1] Paul Lehmann, Ethics in a Christian Context

[2] Translation mine unless otherwise noted

[3] Justo L. Gonzalez, Luke, Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible, eds. Amy Plantinga Pauw and William C. Placher (Louisville: WJK, 2010), 126. BAD POINT “…the point being that just as peter was inclined to build booths and to remain on the mountaintop but had to return to the valley, true disciples have to be willing to descend from the mountaintop to the valley, there to communicate their mountaintop experience to others.” Trivialization of an awesome gospel event and pedestrianizes it into an “example” and ignores that Luke says the disciples didn’t say anything.

[4] Gonzalez, Luke, 126. “There is little doubt that in the Gospel write’s mind this story is closely connected with Exodus 24:12-18 (Moses on Mount Sinai) and Luke 3:21-22 (the baptism of Jesus).”

[5] Gonzalez, Luke, 127. “In the transfiguration, while the emphasis lies on the power and glory of Jesus, there is also a reminder of his death, as we are told that Moses and Elijah were discussing his ‘departure’ (again, his ‘exodus’). Coming immediately after Jesus’s announcement of his sufferings and death, the transfiguration is thus a reminder that in spite of all outward signs of defeat and powerlessness, Jesus is ultimately more powerful than death and than the political and religious authorities in Jerusalem.”

[6] Gonzalez, Luke, 126. “On the latter, just as the baptism of Jesus marks the beginning of his public ministry, now the transfiguration marks the beginning of the journey to Jerusalem. In both cases, a voice from heaven (or from a cloud) affirms the unique relationship of Jesus with God, and thus endorses his ministry, actions, and teachings.”

[7] Gonzalez, Luke, 126-127. “On the former, there is a clear attempt in the choice of words of the passage to show that at Jesus is no less a figure than Moses (and Elijah), and that his experience at the mountaintop is parallel to Moses’ experience on Mount Sinai.”

[8] Gonzalez, Luke, 127. “The two figures of Moses and Elijah clearly represent the Law and the Prophets, a common way of referring to the totality of Scripture….Thus the text shows Jesus to be at least the equal of Moses and Elijah, and certainly invested with the authority of God so that his teachings are inspired: ‘This is my Son, my Chosen’ listen to him.’”

[9] Ernesto Cardenal, The Gospel in Solentiname, translated by Donald D. Walsh (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2010), 282-283. “they asked me why Moses and Elijah appeared, and I said that Moses was a the great liberator of the people, that he brought them out of Egyptian slavery, and Elijah was a great prophet, a defender of the poor and the oppressed, when Israel again fell into slavery, with social classes. Both of them were closely identified with the Messiah, for it had been said that the Messiah would be a second Moses and that Elijah would come back to earth to denounce injustices as a precursor of the Messiah…”

[10] Joel B. Green The Gospel of Luke The New International Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997), 377. “Luke’s transfiguration scene places a premium on the motif of sight.”

[11] Green, Luke, 381. “This emphasis on seeing illuminates the transfiguration scene from the vantage point of the apostles, with Luke’s focus set on the significance of this event for them. At the same time, Luke invites his audience to share their viewpoint through the use of ‘Look!’”

[12] Gonzalez, Luke, 128. “The roller-coaster experience of the disciples is also ours. Are we the Easter people, or are we the people of the cross? Both! And neither is of any significance without the other. At the same time that we celebrate the victory of Jesus—and our own—we must never forget his cross—nor eschew our own. There are ‘transfiguration moments’ in Christian experience and in the life of the church; but they neither abolish nor diminish the need for the cross.”

[13] Green, Luke, 377. “From ‘seeing,’ then, the narrative turns to ‘hearing’ (vv 35-36a), after which, we are informed, the apostles told no one what they had ‘seen.’ Luke thus works in this scene with an understanding that is common in biblical narration—namely, ‘unaided human intellect cannot grasp history’s significance. One who reckons to understand the past implies a claim to God-given insight into the matter.’ The divine word illuminates; hence we may follow the narrative from the ‘seeing but not perceiving’ of vv. 28-34 to the ‘seeing and (beginning the process of) perceiving’ in v. 36. The whole scene is thus cast as a moment of revelation.”

[14] Green, Luke, 382. “…the encasement of Jesus’ mission in the language of exodus reminds us that, whatever shape it takes, that mission is grounded in the purpose of God to bring liberation from bondage. Through the journey Jesus is undertaking, release from the constraints of demonization, from the darkness of satanic intent, and from the diverse expressions of diabolic power, whether in disease or in social marginalization or in the patronal ethics of the Roman world, will be effected.”

[15] Green, Luke, 384. “…god speaks not to Jesus but to these representative followers, underscoring for them Jesus’ status. Form an unimpeachable source, Jesus has been identified for them; as a consequence of this divine confirmation, they should regard his words, including his teaching on his destiny and the concomitant nature of discipleship…as reliable.”

[16] Green, Luke, 378. “For Luke, if not for historiographers in general, this was due to his notion that historical events are divinely guided. This means that the Evangelist will have seen in the mission of Jesus a virtual, divinely oradin3d, reenactment of the exodus from bondage.”

[17] Green, Luke, 379. “…the transfiguration scene calls upon this choir of voices especially to stress the image of Jesus as liberator from bondage, his ministry as one of release from captivity in all its guises.”

[18] Green, Luke, 379. “These internal reverberations are important for what they emphasize about this scene—namely, the way it (a) summarizes critical issues related to Jesus’ status in relation of to God, (b) proleptically alerts representative apostles to the full significance of his heavenly status, and (c) supplies the apostles (and Luke’s audience) with an interpretive framework for making sense of the ensuing narrative, including the fulfillment of Jesus’ predicted suffering and death.”

[19] Cardenal, Solentiname, 284. “I: ‘In the Bible, God appears fundamentally like the God of Exodus, which is like saying the God of freedom. The prophet Amos says that the Exodus of Israel was not the only one and that Yahweh had brought other peoples out of other slaveries. Which is like saying that Yahweh is the God of every revolution.”

[20] Cardenal, Solentiname, 285. “I: ‘Christ is the Word of God made flesh on earth, the message of God that we should love one another. That’s the word that the cloud says we must hear.’”

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These Humble Waterpots

Psalm 36:5-7 5 Your love, O Abba God, reaches to the heavens, and your faithfulness to the clouds. Your righteousness is like the strong mountains, your justice like the great deep; you save both human and beast, O Abba God. How priceless is your love, O God! your people take refuge under the shadow of your wings.

Introduction

I saw a meme recently that referred to January as a big MONDAY. Like, the whole month is just one Monday. Now, as someone who prefers Monday to Tuesday, I wasn’t displeased with this idea—though, it did make me consider if March or February was the big TUESDAY of the year… No matter my opinions on the meme or the days, the feeling holds. Think about it. We are two weeks out from many parties, festivities, celebrations, and feasts. We are more than two weeks out from opening presents and receiving cards and picture in the mail. We are two weeks into houses and business slowly removing their festive lights from public view. We are two weeks into feeling the lean and the austere as we pull back from the Christmas season back to the “normal” day in and day out. We’re two weeks into the cold feeling colder and the dark seeming darker.[1]

It feels like one big Monday.

Sometimes the temptation in the Monday (no matter how long or short it is) is to pull in and away, hide, and burrow in deeper under those duvets and comforters. There are times when this is exactly what we (I?) may need to do, but it can’t and shouldn’t be our only response to Mondays mondaying. Here’s why: because it’s in our lack, in our weak, in our exhaustion, in our want, in our empty, in our sad, in our “I can’t even” where God shows up. In the Mondayest Monday that ever Mondayed, God shows up. When we can’t, God can; when all that’s left is water, God brings wine.

John 2:1-11

Now Jesus says to them, “Fill the water pots full of water.” And they filled them up to the brim. Then he says to them, “Now draw water and bring [it] forth to the superintendent of the banquet.” And they brought [it] forth. And as the superintendent of the banquet tastes the water it has become wine! And he had not perceived from where it came… (Jn 2:7-9b)[2]

John brings us to a very familiar story; one we all know quite well: Jesus turning water into wine. While always an excellent argument about why wine is “okay,” there’s more to the story here than an argument for drinking and to why it’s included in our lectionary.[3] This story and its embedded miracle, are an “Epiphany” story and miracle.[4] While not all that original to the Christian narrative (there is some intersection with the legend of Dionysus[5]) the story features the revelation of the glory of God in Christ; the son of humanity Jesus Christ’s acceptance and revelation as the son of God. This one is no ordinary one, John is saying in this miracle story; both Jesus’s humanity and divinity are being exposed here by John.

The human part is designated by the story opening on Mary and Jesus and the disciples at a wedding in Cana (vv. 1-2)—a rather regular human affair. Noticing that the wine has fallen short (there’s no more), Mary, Jesus’s mother, brings this to Jesus’s attention, “They do not have wine,” she says to him (v. 3). And Jesus’s response is quite sharp and frank, “What [is it] to you and me, woman? My hour has not yet arrived” (v. 4) The tone is “stop bugging me,”[6] and, frankly, if there ever was a more real and human interaction between a mother and her eldest son, I know not of it. But Jesus’s use of “Woman” (γύναι) is unique here and places a certain distance between himself and Mary[7] exacerbating the tension that’s building toward the miracle as incredible. In other words, Jesus dismisses the request, but the story isn’t over.[8] Mary then dismisses Jesus’s curt reply and declaration that it’s not time for him to be public and pushed into the confrontation with the status-quo and the powers and rulers of the kingdom of humanity.[9] She tells the servants at the wedding banquet, “Whatever he might say to you, you do.” (v. 5). Mary’s aim, or, rather, John’s aim is to get Jesus to do a miracle.[10] And so the story moves on.

John tells us that there were six large waterpots appointed for purification rites according to the children of Israel; [these pots] holding two or three measures of 8.75 gallons (v. 6). (That is, max, 26.25 gallons per waterpot and thus, 157.5 gallons total.) Then John tells us, Jesus says to/commands [the servants], “Fill the waterpots full of water.” And they filled them up to the brim (v. 7). Then a second command, Jesus says to/commands [the servants], “Now draw water and bring [it] forth to the superintendent of the banquet.” And they brought [it] forth (v. 8). At this point the narrative shifts from Jesus and the servants to the superintendent of the banquet. John writes, Now as the superintendent of the banquet tastes the water, it had become wine(!), and he had not perceive from where it came. But those who have drawn the water had perceived (v.9-9c). John keeps the miracle relatively obscured, only the reading audience knows that Jesus did this miracle. Thus, for John, God’s divine activity is celebrated but cloaked. [11] God is glorified not by direct praise but by the concrete miracle of water turning into wine[12] in the midst of a people being made happy,[13] celebrating, and coming together;[14],[15]

John continues, And the superintendent of the banquet calls out to the bridegroom and says to him, “All people appoint the good wine first, and whenever [the people] were drunk with wine [appoints] the lesser; you, you keep the good wine until just now!” (vv. 9d-10). A miracle has occurred, the best wine is brought out last, and, according to John, this illuminates Jesus as the promised messiah[16] and that this event is just the first of the signs in Cana of Galilee that reveal Jesus glory and his status with God and among humanity (v. 11a). God’s glory is made known in and through Christ, and this is the goal and object of John’s material–specifically around the miracle stories. For John, there is no way to mistake it, Jesus is the son of God, the promised one, the long awaited Messiah, the one who reveals God in his flesh and God’s will through his words and deeds[17] and thus solicits faith from people—and his disciples believed in him (v. 11b). This is the point, to come into contact with the Holy One of Israel, to find oneself face to face with God in Christ and to believe, to receive grace and truth thus to be saved and rescued from one’s dead self unto a new alive self to be in the world for the neighbor, the beloved of God, to the glory of God just like Jesus. [18]

Conclusion

Jesus took six empty waterpots and some water and turned it all into a reason to continue the party. This is a real and true miracle. And John’s point is how this miracle, demonstrates Jesus’s divine glory, his relation and representation of God as God’s son. This is what Jesus does, he takes what is empty, fatigued, worn out, dead and renders it full, rested, fresh, and alive. While we could wax eloquently in defense of partying and celebrating with wine, now isn’t the time for that. The real thing to focus on is how Jesus can bring to life ordinary objects and send them into the world for the robust divine purpose of bringing God’s love, life, and liberation to the people.

As I said at the beginning, it’s in our lack, in our weak, in our exhaustion, in our fatigue, in our want, in our empty, in our sad, in our “I can’t even” where God shows up. When we can’t God can. When all that’s left is water, God brings wine. When it all seems and appears to be nothing and gone and ready to be washed up and closed down, God shows up and reinvigorates that which is dead because that is what God does: God is the strength in our weakness because when we are weak and can’t God is strong and can. The radical thing is that God is glorified when, in spite of ourselves, God’s will, mission, and revolution of love life and liberation are not only participated in, but moved forward through us and our weakness by his soundness. We are the waterpots, we are the ones taken, filled, and made to be glorious instruments of belonging and God’s glory. Beloved, in this mega-Monday of a January, be assured God is still at work in and through you.

[1] I credit my son Quinn with giving me this idea that there is “December Winter” and “January Winter” and the two are very different.

[2] Translation mine unless otherwise noted

[3] Did you know that all three Epiphany 2s have a reading from John either first or second chapters according to our lectionary?

[4] Rudolf Bultmann, The Gospel of John: A Commentary, trans. GR Beasley-Murray, Gen Ed, RWN Hoare and JK Riches (Philadelphia: Westminster, 1971), 118-119. Originally published as, Das Evangelium des Johannes (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1964, 1966). “The source counted this as the first miracle. It is easy to see why it put it at the beginning of its collection; for it is an epiphany miracle…There can be no doubt that the story has been taken over form heathen legend and ascribed to Jesus. In fact the motif of the story, the changing of the water into wine, is a typical motif of the Dionysus legend.”

[5] See fn1

[6] Ernesto Cardenal, The Gospel in Solentiname, translated by Donald D. Walsh (Eugene: Wipf&Stock, 2010), 76. “I said that Jesus’ words—‘Why do you tell that to me?’—according to the latest biblical studies, are very strong words. In other parts of the Bible they always appear in lawsuits or when someone is being injured by someone else, and it’s something like our expression ‘Stop bugging me.’”

[7] Bultmann, John, 116. “The refusal is a rough one…What is surprising here is the form of address, γύναι, where one expects ‘Mother’. Even though it is not disrespectful or scornful, it sets a peculiar distance between Jesus and his mother.”

[8] Bultmann, John, 116. “The purpose of the preparation is precisely to bring out the character of the miracle as παράδοξον by raising the tension. This is done here, as elsewhere, by making Jesus at first refuse the request, but in such a way as to keep the expectation alive.”

[9] Cardenal, Solentiname, 77. “Carlos Alberto: ‘…By doing this he was already pushing himself into his public life, I mean, into struggle, and now he was going to be persecuted…I see that right after this in the following passage, Saint John already has Jesus driving the money changers out of the temple, and also talking about his death. So it’s clear that this miracle speeded things up.’”

[10] Bultmann, John, 116. “When the wine runs out, Jesus’ mother brings it to his notice; of course she does this with the aim of getting him to perform a miracle, as can be seen from Jesu’ answer v. 4, and as was also to be expected from the style of the miracle story, in which everything is related with an eye on the main point of the story and must be understood in relation to this point.”

[11] Bultmann, John, 118. “It is in accordance with the style of the miracle stories that the miraculous process itself is not described; the divine action remains a mystery.”

[12] Bultmann, John, 118. “As in other miracle stories, the greatness of what has happened is emphasised by a demonstration or acclamation by the public. Yet here the παράδοξον is not brought out by a generalized phrase, but by a concrete scene: the water had been turned into the most excellent wine!…This saying marks the end of the narrative proper: any further words would only detract from the effect.”

[13] Cardenal, Solentiname, 78. “Oscar: ‘It seems to me that the wine means joy, a party. To be happy. Enjoyment. Also love. He wanted to make us see that he was bringing enjoyment, happiness, a party.’”

[14] Cardenal, Solentiname, 78. “Olivia: ‘Joy. And also unity. Wine unites. He was coming to bring about unity among people. But liquor can separate too, and lead to quarrels, stabbings…’”

[15] Cardenal, Solentiname, 79. “Marcelino: ‘We see then that he was coming to bring unity and brotherhood among people. That’s the wine he brought. If there’s no brotherhood among people there’s no joy. Like a party where people are divided, where they don’t all share alike, it’s a party without joy….So  a society with quarrels, with social classes, can’t have a true banquet, a true party.’”

[16] Cardenal, Solentiname, 78-79. “The prophet Amos had said that when the Messiah came there would be great harvests of wheat and grapes, and that the hills would distill wine. Isaiah says that God was going to prepare a banquet for all the peoples, with very good meat and very good wines. And he had also prophesied about the Messiah, saying that “they would not be sad.” By the miracle Christ is making it clear that he is the promised Messiah.’”

[17] Bultmann, John, 120. “For here, as elsewhere, the Evangelist’s figurative language refers not to any particular gift brought by the Saviour Jesus, but to Jesus himself as the Revealer, as is true of the images of the living water, the bread of life  and the light, as well as of the shepherd and the vine; equally the wine refers not to any special gift, but to Jesus’ gift as a whole, to Jesus himself as the Revealer, as he is finally visible after the completion of his work.”

[18] Bultmann, John, 119. “For the Evangelist the meaning of the story is not contained simply in the miraculous event; this, or rather the narrative, is the symbol of something which occurs throughout the whole of Jesus’ ministry, that is, the revelation of the δόξα of Jesus. As understood by the Evangelist this is not the power of the miracle worker, but the divinity of Jesus as the Revealer, and it becomes visible for faith in the reception of χάρις and ἀλήθεια; his revelation of his δόξα is nothing more nor less than his revelation of the ὄνομα of the Father (17.6).”

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Water and Fire

Psalm 29:1-2, 11 Ascribe to Abba God, you gods, ascribe to Abba God glory and strength. Ascribe to God the glory due God’s Name; worship Abba God in the beauty of holiness. God shall give strength to God’s people; God shall give God’s people the blessing of peace.

Introduction

I don’t know about you, but I’ve had moments in my life where I have felt the heavy blankets of shame, disgrace, and regret. The dastardly thing about these emotions and feelings is that they never tend to stay on the surface, pinned to the exterior of the epidermis. They sink in deep, infecting the heart, mind, soul, the very being of a person. There isn’t enough soap and water hot enough to get at the dirt. There are times when I want to crawl into the shower and stay there, under the hot streams, until I feel clean, hoping beyond hope that the water cascading down, pouring over me would–somehow—penetrate through my flesh and cleanse my heart and mind, my soul and self, washing away these children of malfeasance. In the end, though, it’s just water, it can’t and won’t do the very thing I needed it to do. These are times I need something more than just water, I need divine fire. Under that falling water, I need to remember my confession: please forgive me Lord, a sinner. But I can’t stop there, I must press through that confession and remember this: In the name of Christ, I am Baptized. With Martin Luther, it’s here, in remembering my baptism where I am exposed by my confession and brought through that death into new life, placed deep in the presence of God through the purifying fires of faith in Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

John answered and said to the people, “Indeed, I, I baptize you [with] water; but one comes who is stronger than me for whom I am not fit to untie the strap of his sandals. He, he will baptize you with [the] Holy Spirit and fire.” (Lk. 3:16)

In chapter 3, Luke brings us face to face with John. According to the first part of chapter three, John, the son of Zechariah, is going about the region of the Jordan proclaiming a baptism of repentance (vv. 2-3). In v. 7, people are coming to John in the Jordan to be baptized, and he is verbally exposing them and exhorting them to better life lived in the world (vv.7-14). Due to this interaction, the people begin to wonder with excitement that John might be the Messiah (v. 15).

Luke tells us John senses this building excitement and wonder about his role in God’s activity in the world, and quickly nips all speculation in the bud, Indeed, I, I baptize you [with] water; but one comes who is stronger than me whom I am not fit to untie the strap of his sandals. He, he will baptize you with [the] Holy Spirit and fire (v. 16). John makes a clear distinction here between the baptism he offers in the coming reign of God and the one Jesus will offer. His cleanses the outside, Jesus’s will cleanse not only the outside but also the inside. Luke has a couple of objectives in mind by placing these words on John’s tongue. First, at the time of writing, there were factions remaining of those who followed John and those who followed Jesus; for Luke, not even John wants anyone following him because he is one who points to Jesus (his is more prophet[1] than Christ).[2] Here, Luke, through John, places articulated emphasis on the baptism that Jesus will offer as the superior baptism to his water baptism. While both water and fire clean, only fire will purify.[3]

Luke’s second objective: to expose the significant difference between John’s baptism and Jesus’s (it’s not only that one is more powerful). The bigger difference is that one baptism includes receiving something. Where John’s baptism is a baptism of repentance and being washed clean with water (full stop), John does not claim to give anyone anything to fill the now vacant spot washed. But, according to Luke’s John, Jesus does. What is this gift? The Holy Spirit. The believer, the one who is baptized with fire and the Holy Spirit, receives the Holy Spirit in Jesus name via baptism. In other words, John’s baptizands aren’t empowered with anything, they’re just washed clean; Jesus’s are.[4] Those who receive the baptism of Jesus with fire and the Holy Spirit also receive the Holy Spirit and it is this “paraclete” (according to the gospel of John) who exposes and who empowers Jesus’s followers (i.e. through exposure and exhortation, or the growth discussed in the book of Ephesians) into the way of wisdom, love, and truth[5] and will continue to do so long after Jesus ascends.[6]

John then retreats to some rather intimidating imagery of judgment. Who has his winnowing shovel in hand to thoroughly purify his threshing floor and collect the grain into his grainery, but the chaff he will consume entirely [by] unquenchable fire (v. 17). Again, there are two important things being articulated here. The first is the comparison of Jesus and his baptism with fire and the Holy Spirit as an act of judgment,[7] or, what I would call “exposure”. The winnowing shovel is judgment; to winnow is to separate the chaff from the grain. For Luke’s John, Jesus comes with a winnowing shovel to judge by exposing everything to fire (judgment). This winnow shovel language echoes back to what John said at the beginning of the chapter about the axe being laid at the base of the tree to chop down those trees that are fruitless.[8] Thus judgment is clearly and explicitly intended here and no one is escaping divine fire! But, (and second) how Luke relays this winnowing is important: it’s in the past tense; as in: it’s already happened. Return to the imagery with me, one will come with a winnowing shovel and the grain will be collected together while the chaff is burned in the unquenchable fire. Thus, the winnowing has already been done by the time the collecting together of the grain and the burning of the chaff. In other words, for Luke, John has winnowed and Jesus will collect and the left over unusable parts will be burned up. Those who respond positively to John’s call for baptism by water will be the grain that is gathered up by Christ and baptized by him. [9] According to Luke, John is the fork in the road; if you are open to repentance baptism, then you are open to what comes when the Christ shows up. [10]

Then our passage closes with the well told story of Jesus’s baptism in the Jordan with John. Here Luke solidifies Jesus’s dual identification with God and with humanity;[11] demonstrating that Jesus is, without need of repentance, in solidarity with humanity’s plight (needing repentance) [12] as well as in solidarity with God’s mission in the world to bring absolution (the purification with fire and the Holy Spirit) to the beloved. As one of the many people in the Jordan, Jesus, too, is baptized; yet, as the one who is God’s son, he is recognized by God as God’s own by the opening of the heavens (v.21), and the Holy Spirit like a dove[13] came down bodily upon him, and a voice out of heaven came about, “You, You are my son; with you I am well-pleased” (v. 22). According to Luke, Jesus is the Son of Humanity and the Son of God, the one through whom God’s redemption comes[14] and through whom humanity will be both restored and represented in the heavenly realms.

Conclusion

To be baptized of water, to be cleaned by water is great; to be baptized with the Holy Spirit and God’s divine fire in the name of Christ is the call of anyone who follows Jesus out of that Jordan on that day and every day after that. Something I find interesting here is that this passage speaks not of two different fires but of one. Just like it is one light that illuminates the darkness, sending the darkness to its demise while illuminating that which is in the room; so does the divine fire that comes with the Christ send that existential and spiritual dirt to its demise while rendering the beloved object of that fire new and pure. The very thing that sends me into the hot shower to cleanse from head to toe is obliterated life chaff sent to the unquenchable fire in my confession and my recollection that I am baptized in Christ and with the Holy Spirit. Yet, I, in my flesh and in my soul do not escape that fire, but suffer through it like pottery in a kiln or gold in the refinery; what is left of the fire that surges over and through me is what is collected and stored in the grainery to serve and participate in God’s mission in the world, following after Jesus and walking within the same sand impressions left behind by my savior as he left the water. In my confession and in my need for Christ, I am summoned out of and away from death (chaff) and placed in the heart of God’s love, given new life, and sent forward in liberation renewed by faith and empowered by the Holy Spirit. That which is sentenced to death (my guilt, shame, regret, anything that hinders me from new life) is burned up forever, and that which is sentenced to life abundant (me, myself, and I) are refined and collected up into the grainery to be used by God in the world to God’s glory and the wellbeing of the neighbor, God’s beloved.

We, as God’s beloved, are called to walk through the one fire and to let God take what is chaff and burn it up completely and purify and refine by the baptism of Christ that is with God’s Holy Spirit and fire that which is to be collected as grain. In the event of faith, we, as God’s beloved, are brought into death and through it, finding ourselves resurrected on the other side, purified and made clean, inside and out, to be as Christ in the world, to represent God by word and deed, and to identify with the suffering and plight of our neighbors.

[1] Gonzalez, Luke, 50. “Thus what John is saying is that he is not even worthy to be counted among the lowest servants of the one whose coming he announces…In brief, Luke presents John as perhaps the greatest among the prophets and as the heir to the long line of leaders of Israel who significance was announced in that they were born of barren women; but even so, John cannot even be compared with Jesus.”

[2] Justo L. Gonzalez, Luke, Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible, eds. Amy Plantinga Pauw and William C. Placher (Louisville: WJK, 2010), 50. Luke is emphasizing Jesus over John “This is an important point for Luke, who apparently was writing at time when there were still those who claimed to be followers of John but not of Jesus and such views had spread beyond the confines of Judea to Diaspora Judaism…”

[3] Gonzalez, Luke, 51. “John baptizes with water; but Jesus will baptize ‘with the Hoy Spirit and with fire.’ Both water and fire are purifying agents; but fire is much more potent than water. Water may wash away whatever is unclean; but fire burns it away.”

[4] Gonzalez, Luke, 51. “Thus in Lukan theology there is a difference between a baptism of repentance, which is what John performed, and baptism in the name of Jesus, which is connected with receiving the Holy Spirit. John calls people to repent, and when they do this he baptizes them as a sign that they are cleaned of their former impurity. But Christian baptism, while still employing water, is ‘with the Holy Spirit and with fire.’ It is a cleansing (fire) and empowering (Holy Spirit).”

[5] Ernesto Cardenal, The Gospel in Solentiname, translated by Donald D. Walsh (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2010), 54. “Octavio: ‘The Holy Spirit is Wisdom.’
Julio: ‘It’s love for others.’
Gloria: ‘And the fire is love too.’
Eduardo: ‘Because it gives light and warmth.’
Tere: ‘And also because it purifies.’”

[6] Joel B. Green, “The Gospel of Luke,” The New International Commentary on the New Testament (Grand Rapids): Eerdmans, 1997), 180. “The conjunction of the Holy Spirit and fire in this baptism is puzzling within the context of Luke-Acts. The Holy Spirit has been present repeatedly in 1:5-2:52, where such roles as empowering and guiding were paramount; for Luke thus far the Holy Spirit has been a manifestation of eschatological blessing and an empowering presence critical to God’s redemptive mission. Baptism ‘with the Holy Spirit,’ then, must surely be related to these themes even if other connections of the Spirit with cleansing and purging are also in view. Fire, too, can have this meaning, and it may be that the figure John anticipates will administer s single baptism of refinement and empowerment.”

[7] Gonzalez, Luke, 51. “Furthermore, fire is a sign of impending judgment. John had declared that the axe was now at the root of the tree, so that a fruitless tree would be cut down and burned. Now something similar is said about the coming of Jesus: he comes with a winnowing fork in order to separate the wheat from the chaff, saving the former and burning the latter.”

[8] Gonzalez, Luke, 51. “Furthermore, fire is a sign of impending judgment. John had declared that the axe was now at the root of the tree, so that a fruitless tree would be cut down and burned. Now something similar is said about the coming of Jesus: he comes with a winnowing fork in order to separate the wheat from the chaff, saving the former and burning the latter.”

[9] Green, Luke, 182. “…the language John uses actually presumes that the process of winnowing has already been completed. Consequently, all that remains is to clear the threshing floor, and this is what John pictures. This means that John’s ministry of preparation is itself the winnowing, for his call to repentance set within his message of eschatological judgment required of people that they align themselves with or over against God’s justice. As a consequence, the role of Messiah is portrayed as pronouncing or enacting judgment on the people on the basis of their response to John.”

[10] Green, Luke, 182. “…it is important to realize that John presents his baptismal activity as an anticipation of the Messiah’s; his baptism forces a decision for or against repentance, and this prepare for the Messiah’s work…”

[11] Cardenal, Solentiname, 56. “One of the women said: ‘to give us an example. He didn’t need baptism but we did, and he did it so we would do it when we saw that even he did it.’” And, “Somebody else said: ‘And he could also have done it out of humility. He was with his people, with his group, and he wasn’t going to say: “I don’t need this, you do it, I don’t have any sin.” The others, the Pharisees, might say that, the ones who didn’t follow John. Not Jesus, he goes along with the others.”

[12] Cardenal, Solentiname, 56. “Alejandro: ‘You could also say out of solidarity. So he wouldn’t be separated form the group.’”

[13] Cardenal, Solentiname, 57. “‘It wasn’t that a dove descended, because it doesn’t say that a dove descended but “like a dove.” A dove is a soft and loving little animal. And the Holy Spirit is loving. It was the love of God that descended upon him.’”

[14] Green, Luke, 187. “The purpose of the divine voice in 3:22 is above all that of providing an unimpeachable sanction of Jesus with regard to his identity and mission. Working in concert with the endowment of the Holy Spirit, this divine affirmation presents in its most acute form Jesus’ role as God’s agent of redemption. This accentuates Jesus’ role as God’s representative, the one through whom God’s aim will be further presented and worked out in the story, but it also demonstrates at least in a provisional way the nature of Jesus’ mission by calling attention to the boundaries of his exercise of power.”

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Love God = Love Neighbor

Psalm 146:4, 6 Happy are they who have the God of Jacob for their help! whose hope is in Abba God…Who gives justice to those who are oppressed, and food to those who hunger.

Introduction

If we’ve learned anything from the gospel of Mark it’s that being a disciple of Christ isn’t easy and comfortable, it demands reconsideration of things familiar and comfortable, it conflicts with the way the world works and the kingdom of humanity operates, it can rupture relationships, it will force you into an inner crisis of identity. What we’ve gleaned from Mark’s Jesus about what it means to follow him clashes with common notions that being a Christian means worldly prosperity, power, popularity, and privilege (often defined by the kingdom of humanity); it clashes with the idea that being a Christian means being nice and happy; it clashes with the idea that being a Christians means allegiance to a flag or nation; it clashes with the idea that being a Christian means doing one set of things on Sunday and spending Monday through Saturday doing whatever you want.

To follow Christ as one of the disciples—those baptized and partaking of the cup—is to render one’s whole life in service to the mission of God’s revolution of love, life, and liberation in the world for the wellbeing of God’s beloved (you, me, us, and especially all who suffer and are heavy laden outside of these walls). There isn’t one part of us that isn’t claimed by the Spirit of God that descended on Pentecost and now lives in us, yoking us to God by and through our faith in Christ. Mark’s Jesus takes very seriously that you are the fragile, breakable vessel of God, working through you as the epicenter of divine judgment and justice—condemning that which promotes death, indifference, and captivity and exalting that which nourishes, life, love, and liberation. This is the demand on the faithful disciple of Christ (then and now); it is the pursuit of divine love that lets them know we are Christians of the reign of God. Nothing else qualifies but to love God and love those whom God loves.

Mark 12:28-34

And then the scribe said to him, “Well said, teacher! You spoke on the basis of the truth that God is one and there is not another except this one. And to love God out of the whole heart and out of the whole intellect and out of the whole strength and to love the neighbor as oneself is greater than all of the whole burnt offerings and sacrifices.”[1]

This entire discussion is rather banal.[2] Since there are (about) 613 mitzvot (separate commands) within Genesis to Deuteronomy, discussions about  which commandments were seen “as more essential” and even debates about which ones were “light” and “heavy” happened regularly among the local scholarly network (Pharisees, Scribes, and Sadducees, etc.).[3] Even a “summary” of the law—some idea that ties up the Torah—was expected.[4] Thus, Jesus’s summary fits in with other Jewish summaries of the law (causing absolutely no surprise) and is extended to include the prophets.[5] The only thing that is interesting (and considered unprecedented) is that Jesus links two well-known first testament texts: Deuteronomy 6:4-5 and Leviticus 19:18.[6]

So, why include this story in the gospel and in our lectionary? Because the most central feature of a Christian’s life of faithful discipleship is love. Fullstop. Love God and love your neighbor. Jesus answered, “The first is, ‘Hear O Israel, the Lord your God the Lord is one, and you will love the Lord God from your whole heart, and from your whole soul and from your whole intellect and from your whole strength.’ The second [is] this, ‘You will love your neighbor as yourself.’” The entirety of the Christian life is defined by love that is born by the reign of God and made known in the kingdom of humanity (vertical and horizontal, divine and human, spiritual and material). Not only is the disciple exhorted to love God with their whole self, but they are also to love the neighbor (whoever and wherever they are[7]) in the same way; this is the way for the disciple of Christ. To prove this point and to drive it home, Jesus adds, There is no other command greater than these. Here things get a bit more interesting. Jesus has, first, not given one command but two when the scribe asked for what command is first of all? And, second, Jesus created a hierarchy between the love of God and the love of neighbor and the other commandments. According to Mark’s Jesus, there is a preferred way,[8] subjecting all other commands to these two.

The scribe’s response—“Well said, teacher! You spoke on the basis of the truth that God is one and there is not another except this one. And to love God out of the whole heart and out of the whole intellect and out of the whole strength and to love the neighbor as oneself is greater than all of the whole burnt offerings and sacrifices”—reveals two things. The first is implicit, the scribe gets something that the disciples are still trying to ascertain and understand[9] and the other scribes (and Pharisees and Sadducees) refuse to get.[10] The scribe affirms the fact that Jesus’s words are founded on truth thus revealing his own inherent disposition toward Jesus and also Jesus’s mission in the world (thus why Jesus can say to him later, “You are not far from the reign of God.”; [11]).[12]

The second is explicit, there is nothing within religiosity and religious traditionalism that rival these two commands. Nothing—no ritual, no tradition, no pilgrimage, no vigil, no quiet time, no eucharistic celebration, etc.—absolutely nothing is more important to the Christian life in the world before God and among the neighbor than love, love, love. Everything else is not only subverted[13] to these two commands to love God fully and completely and to love the neighbor as one loves themselves but should be viewed in support of this demand for love in two directions, vertically and horizontally. Thus, for Mark’s Jesus and this humble scribe, to love God is to love the neighbor and to love the neighbor is to love God. [14] What is essentially and primarily ruled out here is any conception of a privatized relationship between one person and God as if that’s all that matters. A disciple of Christ cannot love God and ignore their neighbor because to ignore their neighbor is to ignore God. You don’t get the option to do half of the chief commandment; it’s either both or its nothing.

Conclusion

If you’ve ever wondered what God’s will is for your life as a disciple of Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit, wonder no more. The entirety of your life is summoned into a robust and vigorous relationship fueled, inspired, and sustained by God’s love for the cosmos. We love because we have first been loved; we love our neighbor because God loves us, and we love God and thus love what God loves. To love God with our whole selves is a definitive mark of a disciple of Christ because it manifests as loving our neighbor as if we are loving ourselves the way God loves us (and loves our neighbor). Thus they truly will know we are Christians by our love…

To go further, and to put darker lines around what it means to love God and love the neighbor, it must be stressed that to love God is best expressed not only in devotion through prayer, worship, and glorifying, but specifically expressed in loving that which and those whom God loves. This means loving God’s justice—God’s mission of life, love, and liberation[15]—that seeks to right the wrongs created and promoted by the kingdom of humanity. Thus, to quote Felipe from Ernesto Cardenal’s The Gospel in Solentiname, “‘To love your neighbor then is to love God. You can’t love God without practicing justice. And you can’t love your neighbor without practicing that justice that God commands.’” [16] In other words, the systems of the kingdom of humanity oriented toward injustice–those systems and ideologies oriented toward death, indifference, and captivity—are to be categorically rejected by those who claim to follow Christ by faith as his disciples by the power of the Holy Spirit.[17]

I can’t stress it enough that we are so very, very loved by a good, good God—a God who is love. This is worth celebrating. But if it never goes further and farther than that, then we will find ourselves distant from the reign of God. God’s love can’t be purchased and owned privately as if it can be just for ourselves. God’s love is always on the move, always seeking the object of God’s desire: God’s beloved, you, me, and more importantly, those who have been cast off and pushed to the margins by the ideologically inspired actions of the residents of the kingdom of humanity. We love because we have first been loved; we strive for justice on behalf of the neighbor, because God’s love strives for justice.

[1] Translation mine unless otherwise noted

[2] Placher, Mark, 174. “Just as it is important to note that Mark portrays this scribe in a sympathetic light, so it is worth remembering that Jesus was not saying anything radically new or at odds with the Jewish tradition.”

[3] R. T. France, The Gospel of Mark: A Commentary on the Greek Text, NIGTC, eds. I. Howard Marshall and Donald A. Hagner (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2002), 477. “Given that there are, according to scribal reckoning 613 separate commandments in the five Books of Moses…the question of priority could not be avoided. The rabbis discussed which commandments were ‘heavy’ and which ‘light’, and sometimes ranked certain categories of law as more essential than others.”

[4] France, Mark, 477. “There was a natural desire for a convenient summary of the law’s requirements, a single principle form which all the rest of the Torah was derived…”

[5] France, Mark, 477.

[6] France, Mark, 477-478. “But for his explicit linking together of these two very familiar OT texts [Lv. 19:18 and Dt. 6:4-5] we have no Jewish precedent.”

[7] Placher, Mark, 174. “Further, we should love our neighbors, and there should be no limits on who counts as a neighbor.”

[8] France, Mark, 478. The “evaluative language is not typical of the rabbis, who spoke of ‘light’ and ‘heavy’ commandments, but on the understanding that all are equally valid, and who, while they might look for summarizing principles, do not seem to have ranked individual commandments as ‘first’ or ‘more important.’”

[9] France, Mark, 482. “In Mark’s previous mentions of the kingdom of God we have repeatedly noted a contrast between the divine and human perspective, and a sense of surprise, even of shock, as the unfamiliar values of God’s kingship are recognised. It is a secret given only to those who follow Jesus and hear his teaching (4.11). But here is a man who Is already a good part of the way through the readjustment of values which the kingdom of God demands and which the disciples have been so painfully confronting on the way to Jerusalem.”

[10] France, Mark, 478.

[11] William C. Placher, Mark, Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible, eds Amy Plantinga Pauw and William C. Placher. (Louisville: WJK, 2010), 173. “The question is sincere, the scribe’s response to Jesus is wise, and Jesus tells him, ‘You are not far from the kingdom of God.’ Mark….goes out of his way to indicate that not all Jewish scholars where corrupt or were Jesus’ opponents.”

[12] France, Mark, 482. “…the scribe’s reply has assured Jesus that his mind is well attuned to the divine perspective. This place him οὐ μακρὰν ἀπὸ τῆς βασιλείας τοῦ θεοῦ, not yet a part of it apparently, but unlike the rich who will find it so hard to enter the kingdom of God…this man is a promising potential recruit.”

[13] Cardenal, Solentiname, 530. “I: ‘But here he’s not talking only about false rites but true rites. He says that love is worth more than all religious rites.’”

[14] Cardenal, Solentiname, 529. “You can say, then, that those that obey the second, it’s as if they’re obeying the first. Those who don’t love God, for example, because they don’t believe in God, but love their neighbor, according to Christ it’s as if they’re obeying the first commandment.”

[15] Ernesto Cardenal, The Gospel in Solentiname, translated by Donald D. Walsh (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2010), 528. “So to love [God] is to love liberation and justice and that’ s the same things as to love your neighbor. To love God, then, is to love love. And therefore it’s logical that the second commandment should be very similar to the first one.”

[16] Cardenal, Solentiname, 528.

[17] Placher, Mark, 175. Verses leading up to the Leviticus quotation should be considered in defining ethical action of love toward the neighbor, “Maximizing profit at all costs and cutting corners are contrary to love of neighbor.”

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Summoned as Shepherds

Psalm 96:1-3, 11 Sing to God a new song; sing to Abba God, all the whole earth. Sing to God and bless God’s Name; proclaim the good news of Abba God’s salvation from day to day. Declare God’s glory among the nations and wonders among all peoples. Let the heavens rejoice, and let the earth be glad; let the sea thunder and all that is in it; let the field be joyful and all that is therein.

Introduction

The Psalmist exhorts their audience, “Sing! Sing to God a new song! Sing to Abba God, all the whole earth! Proclaim the good news! Declare God’s glory! Rejoice!” These words beckon cheer and joy, soliciting from the intended audience a response that joins in with the earthly and celestial symphony affirming God’s goodness and greatness. The psalmist beseeches help from the heavens, the seas, the fields, the trees and woods to join in this chorus of praise for God’s glory, power, might, honor, majesty, splendor, and beauty. The psalmist—caught up in the majestic splendor of God’s goodness, righteousness, and truthfulness—invites the cosmos into their celebration, from the peaks of the mountains to the depths of the seas everything is summoned to this banquet and feast of praise and worship.

The psalmist offers us a truly glorious invitation to join in the festivities surrounding God; we are invited to sing a new song. And the only thing I can muster in reply is: in this economy?! Days in and days out, one foot in front of the other, walking slow and steady through a myriad of troubling and disturbing events marking the land and the world…how can I find language for a new song when I’ve lost the language of the old song? Exhaustion wearies the soul and fatigue wearies the bones. So many of us are fighting our overworked nervous systems and rampant anxiety, we’ve run out of energy to make dinner most nights let alone craft a new song. I don’t want this invitation from the psalmist; I don’t have the stamina for such celebration and festivities. In my heart I decline, No, thank you. In my body, I stay home: turn off the lights and bury myself deep into my comforters and try to sleep. I want silence, darkness, stillness; I want to care less, to be less close to despair, to be numb. Sorry, Psalmist, I cannot sing with you; I cannot sing an old song and definitely not a new song.

Then, in the midst of that stillness, the silence, that darkness, succumbing to heavy sleep a still small voice penetrates through it all: oh, dear one, I was not asking you to sing but to listen to a new song…for you…

Luke 2:1-14(15-20)

Now, Shepherds were in that same land living in the fields and guarding over their flocks keeping night guard. And then an angel of the lord stood by them, and the glory of the lord shone around them, and they were afraid with a great fear. And then the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid! For, Behold!, I proclaim good news to you of great joy that will be for all people: today a savior is begotten for you in the city of David who is Christ the Lord. This is a sign for you, you will find a newborn child having been wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.” And suddenly a great host of angels of heaven appeared with the angel, praising God, and [singing], ‘Glory to God most high and upon earth peace among humanity of [God’s] good pleasure!’”[1]

Luke 2:8-14

Luke begins by telling us a familiar story of Joseph and Mary traveling from Nazareth to Bethlehem to fulfill the demand of a census from Caesar Augustus. We know this story. They are both tired; Mary is very pregnant. They come to the town of David, to Bethlehem, and there’s not one available room for the unwed young couple expecting their first child. Without a room available, the couple finds comfort among animals, straw and hay, and an empty manger. According to Luke, Mary gives birth soon after arriving in the stable.

The birth of the Christ into the world is God coming low to be further in the world. God did not go to palaces and castles; rather God went so low as to be born into meager and rather desperate circumstances. Nothing about Joseph and Mary was particularly unique; they were not married yet, they were not wealthy, they were not royalty, and they were not powerful and privileged. They were simple people in meager circumstances pulling together the bare necessities for their son who was coming into the world, the long promised divine savior of God.[2] I think we forget this part of the story when it’s told year after year; God made God’s self known in flesh, vulnerable and soft flesh, in a stable, in the dirt, among the lowly, among the animals and the poor.

That story is remarkable on its own. But Luke doesn’t stop pressing home his point. The next seen brings us to fields at night and into the world of the shepherds keeping watch over their sheep at night, guarding their flock from predators—both wolves that walked on four legs, and those masquerading as humans walking about on two.[3] These shepherds were downright oppressed under an oppressive regime; this census wasn’t merely about tallying up how many people there were, but, rather, about finding out how much wealth was in the region with an eye to maximize taxes.[4] Thus, this census would create financial havoc for the everyday lives of the shepherds already living (barely) from one day to the next.[5]

So, here they are, the shepherds, cloaked by night and alert for fear of wolves; they are unseen and worried. And then Luke tells us that suddenly! An angel of the lord appeared and brought with them a glory of the lord that engulfed in bright light the field in which they were standing. These humble shepherds froze in fear. But then the angelic visitor spoke, Do not be afraid! For, Behold!, I proclaim to you good news: a savior is begotten for you in the city of David who is Christ the lord! And this announcement wasn’t only a proclamation of good news, but an invitation to come in, come closer, to enter the realm of God’s glory come down low and take hold of the good news. And as if that wasn’t enough, the angel is (suddenly!) accompanied by a great host of heaven who sing to these tired and anxious shepherds,

Glory to God in the highest
and peace upon earth
among humanity of God’s good pleasure!

The whole host of heaven came to these dirty and poor, worried and anxious shepherds dwelling in the dark and on the boarders of despair.[6] Those who were unseen were now seen—seen by the host of heaven. They were drafted into the divine limelight by God[7] to receive the good news and to go. Go and see the savior, the one who will liberate—from sin and oppression[8]—the people, the shepherds, the poor, those meagerly surviving day to day, those shoved off to the fringes of society, those exhausted in soul and fatigued in body, those without a song.

Conclusion

And they went. Luke tells us that as the host of heaven returned to celestial heights, the shepherds, turning one to another, spoke, “Let us go until we reach Bethlehem and see this word that has come into being that the Lord made known to us.” The shepherds dared to go, to obey God, to go into the stable, to see the unwed woman of color who is the mother of God, Jesus the Christ, God come low, Immanuel, God with us. These unknown shepherds were beckoned into the luminescent glory of God and dared to be seen and known by God. They came close, Luke tells us, they found Mary and Joseph, and they saw the infant wrapped in swaddling clothes lying in the manger. Those who were once too dirty to be in God’s presence now not only stood in God’s presence but could reach out and touch God as they were.

Rather than being far off and distant, on Christmas, in the nativity of the Christ, God came low, born a baby, held by the arms of the poor, embraced by the oppressed, surrounded by animals, and resting atop hay, straw, and dirt. God came low on Christmas for no other reason than to bring love and life to God’s beloved, the people of God’s good pleasure, to liberate them from sin and oppression. On Christmas God came low to hang out with those who had lost all their words to give them a new song, to sing over them.

And here we sit, peering over shepherd shoulders, tippy-toe, eager to see the scene displayed before us. We are a part of those gathered to gaze upon the newborn babe, the Christ, and his mother, Mary. We stand among the menagerie of animals; we stand with the humble shepherds finding their words again for the first time. In them we see ourselves. And, in time, as we listen again and again, as we listen anew to this old, old story, we find our words, too—new words, lifegiving words, love filled words, liberating words. This is God for us, heaven singing over us, God come low to be with us, where we are, as weare.

God comes to us to sing over us tonight, amid our darkness, as we try to numb out the chaos and tumult of a world on fire, as we try to forget the pain of our loss and grief (those far off or gone), and as we collapse in our exhaustion and fatigue. Here, we are taken up into that ancient celestial song of ancient days, interrupted long enough to lift our heads and dare to have hope, faith, joy, and peace. Tonight, the Christ is born anew among us, in our heart, for us. Breathe deep, rest, be comforted, and rejoice. Again, I say, Rejoice.

[1] Translation mine unless otherwise noted

[2] Ernesto Cardenal, The Gospel in Solentiname, trans. by, Donald D. Walsh. Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2010. 20. “Rebeca spoke: ‘From the moment of his birth, God chose conditions like the poorest person, didn’t he? I don’t think God wants great banquets or a lot of money…’”

[3] Gonzalez, Luke, 33-34. “Given those circumstances, the setting of the shepherds keeping their flocks at night is much less tranquil and romantic. They live out in the fields, suffer all kinds of deprivations and even dangers, in order to protect their flocks. But the census threatens a new danger, a wolf more dangerous than nay four-legged beast, a wolf that will probably decimate their flocks, and whom they cannot fight, for it is too powerful It is not difficult to imagine what would be the talk of such shepherds as they sought to remain awake through the night…the setting itself was one of fear and oppression.”

[4] Gonzalez, Luke, 33. “A census had sinister implications. It was not just counting people in order to see how many they were, and what population trends were. In ancient times, and long thereafter, a census was in fact an inventory of all the wealth of a region—its people, its animals, and its crops—so that the government would be able to tax people to the maximum. A census usually announced greater poverty and exploitation.”

[5] Justo L. Gonzalez, Luke, Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible Eds Amy Plantinga Pauw and William C. Placher. Louisville: WJK, 2010. 33. “That is not the setting in which Luke presents the story. The setting is rather that of people living under an oppressive regime…As usual, oppression is not a merely political matter, the concern only of those directly involved in politics. It also reaches the everyday lives of people, as is seen in the very fact that Joseph and Mary have to travel to Bethlehem even though she is about to give birth.”

[6] Cardenal, Solentiname, 26. “Felipe: ‘But the angel didn’t go where the kings was but where the poor people were…’”

[7] Gonzalez, Luke, 34. “One of the ways in which the ‘little people’ manage to survive under oppressive regimes is not to call attention to themselves. They seek to go on with their lives unnoticed by the powerful, who could easily crush them. Now these shepherds are literally in the limelight, and an obviously powerful personage confronts them.”

[8] Gonzalez, Luke, 36. “The ‘saviors’ in the Hebrew Scriptures liberate Israel from its political oppressors so that the people may be free to serve and obey God…But the title ‘Savior’ was also used by rulers who claimed special powers over their subjects…Thus when the angel announces Jesus as ‘Savior,’ his declaration has both political and religious overtones. The child who has been born will free the people from bondage—bondage both to their sins and to their oppressors.”

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Lovingly Awaiting the Bridegroom

Psalm 78:5, 7 God gave God’s decrees to Jacob and established a law for Israel, and commanded them to teach their children…So that they might put their trust in God, and not forget the deeds of God, but keep Abba God’s commandments…

Introduction

If you’ve been around, then you’ve probably heard the phrase, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” It’s a great colloquialism; one bringing comfort to those who may feel they themselves are unlovely. Yet, as great and comforting as it could be, the phrase is often shrugged off. Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, blah bla blah, I know… Much like your teen giving a hard-eye-roll when you, once again, tell them they are so handsome and  beautiful.

Why don’t we believe this?

Because the world and our society tell us differently. We’re regularly bombarded with images and messages (implicit and explicit) telling us we don’t measure up. In this war between us and a myriad of industries, our bodies are the battle ground and all too often we are ready to let our psyches and souls be dragged off as prisoners of war. So, we don’t believe that beauty can actually be in the eye of the one who deems us beautiful because we don’t deem ourselves beautiful, wonderful, fleshy miracles, daily breaking boundaries of possible and impossible.

Our attention is drawn away toward that which brings death and destruction and not on that which brings life, so we cannot to see the truth of our beauty and strength (no matter where you find yourself in this journey from point a to point b). Immersed in this diverted attention, we spend our entire lives focused on how we fall short, forgetting to live liberated and loved, finding ourselves out of oil and out of time, locked out of the feasts and festivals of life .

Matthew 25:1-13

Now, while [the foolish bridesmaids] were away purchasing [olive oil], the bridegroom went to the wedding feast and the prepared bridesmaids entered with him and the door was shut. Now later the remaining bridesmaids came and were saying, “Lord, Lord, open up for us.” But the [bridegroom] answered and said, “Truly I tell you, I do not know you.” [And then Jesus said,] “Therefore, you watch, because you do not know the day or the hour.” [1]

Mt. 25:10-13

Matthew drops us deep into Palestinian culture while dropping a bomb of eschatological judgment. Jesus’s parable of what the kingdom of heaven is, is drawn from “wedding customs in first century Palestine,” where bridesmaids would usher the bridegroom to the house of the bride and then both of them would be paraded to the wedding venue for the ceremony and subsequent feasts. [2] But the hard part (the eschatological bomb) isn’t Jesus’s recourse to historic Palestinian wedding customs; this makes sense. What’s hard is that the bridesmaids are divided into “practically wise” and “foolish.” Separating the main characters of a story into two groups is a well-used ancient literary device used to demand attention and cause inner and outer disruption as the one who hears listens. For one group, it will not end well.[3]

After telling the audience that there are two groups of bridesmaids (one foolish, one practically wise), Jesus explains that these ten bridesmaids took their lamps and went to wait for the bridegroom; but five did not bring any more oil than what they carried in their lamps. Then, all of the bridesmaids fell asleep for the bridegroom was delayed in coming. Then! Now, in the middle of the night an outcry happened: behold! The bridegroom! Come out to meet him! All ten wake up, but five awaken to their flames about to extinguish for lack of oil. Five came prepared. The five lacking oil panic and request help from the other five who are prepared. No avail. The prepared five send the five lacking oil to the market, the amount of oil we have will not suffice for you and us; go to the ones selling so you might purchase [oil] for yourself. Now as the unprepared bridesmaids are off bartering for oil, the bridegroom comes and the festivities commence. The door is shut. And it won’t open again, not even for the remaining five bridesmaids. They are left out in the cold.

Whether or not the prepared bridesmaids shared is not the point of the parable. This parable isn’t even about staying awake.[4] Keeping in mind that all ten bridesmaids fell asleep and all ten woke up at the same time, the point is: preparedness stemming from love. The emphasis falls on the practically wise bridesmaids being prepared and wise, carrying expectant hope of the bridegroom’s arrival at any hour, thus the extra oil.[5] This isn’t the type of cramming and rushing at the last minute, [6] but because of their love[7] the practically wise bridesmaids brought extra so they would be ready. You can’t manufacture that type of love at the last minute, it is there and it is working behind the scenes making the object of love, the beloved, beholden by the eye, the beautiful one, the one longed for and desired.[8] The preparedness of love, in this story, redefines family because of the fixed mutual gaze of the beloved and the lover.[9]

Conclusion

Jesus’s use of this parable is to speak to those who are listening and to refocus their gaze on the true bridegroom: himself. Jesus is eager to draw God’s beloved onto to himself thus unto God, to bring them deep into life, love, and liberation; to enter with them into the great wedding feast, to be celebrated, and rejoiced.[10]

Is God jealous? Yes. Jealous for you, for you to know the depth of how much God loves you. Jealous for those outside of this building to know they are so loved by God. So loved that God will move heaven and earth to be born in Christ in the lap of Mary to write it across the starry night sky. So desired, God will reorder life and death in the resurrection of Christ from the dead to shout it to the ends of the cosmos. So cherished, God by God’s Spirit will draw intimately near to the beloved—transcending God’s self—to show that such meager jars of clay are marvelously and wonderfully made, beautiful, beloved. And all of it to draw the focus away from death and destruction and toward life, love, and liberation; away from all the myths and narratives telling the beloved they are inferior and don’t measure up, need to be this or that, or must deny their own selves to be loved. God draws the beloved’s attention away from that toward true, unyielding, always and forever, never-stopping, never giving up divine love, love for you just as you are.

Beloved, dare to believe God loves you so much and that you know you are the apple of God’s eye, the most beautiful and wonderful thing God’s ever seen (each of you! And all of you together!). Turn your heads to the still small voice calling your name, reminding you how precious you are. Double down. Double down so much that you bring extra oil to be ready for when the Bridegroom comes.

[1] Translation mine unless otherwise noted.

[2] Anna Case-Winters Matthew Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible Eds Amy Plantinga Pauw and William C. Placher. Louisville: WJK, 2015. 275. “In wedding customs of first century Palestine, it was common for the bridegroom to be escorted by such a company of bridesmaids/virgins to the home of the bride. They would then escort the couple to the house where the wedding and the wedding feasts were to take place.”

[3] Case-Winters, Matthew, 275. “This contrasting of the ‘wise’ and the ‘foolish’ is an ancient conventional device used in wisdom literature. Jesus uses this device both here and in the Sermon on the Mount where a wise man builds on a rock and a foolish man builds on sand (724-27). … The earlier motif of Jesus as the bridegroom (9:15) and the eschaton as a wedding banquet (22:2) is picked up once again here.”

[4] R. T. France The Gospel of Matthew The New International Commentary on the New Testament. Gen. Ed Joel B. Green. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007. 947. “Why then did the five [foolish] girls miss the feast? It was not that five slept and five stayed awake: v. 5 says explicitly that they all slept and all had to be awakened by the midnight shout. The problem goes back to the preparation they had made before going to sleep.”

[5] Case-Winters, Matthew, 275. “The wise bridesmaids may serve as examples of wisdom and anticipation of the advent of the Messiah. Such a reading is more consistent with the Gospel’s direction and its overall positive portrayal of women.”

[6] France, Matthew, 947. “But the point is simply that readiness, whatever form it takes, is not something that can be achieved by a last-minute adjustment. It depends on long-term provision, and if that has been made, the wise disciple can sleep secure in the knowledge that everything is ready.”

[7] Cardenal, Solentiname, 476. “Oil gives light and joy, and that’s the way love is. Each person is a lamp, but a person without love is a lamp that’s gone out.’”

[8] Ernesto Cardenal The Gospel in Solentiname Translated by, Donald D. Walsh. Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2010. 476. “Olivia: ‘It’ll be too late to look for it, because love can’t be learned in a day, you learn love all your life, and you teach it to your children, or else you teach your children selfishness. And people that have grown up with a selfish mentality and that belong to a society that’s all selfish, how are they going to change suddenly.’”

[9] France, Matthew, 950. “The comparatively trivial lapse of a failure to be provide with oil has come to symbolize an ultimately false relationship; they are not part of Jesus’ true family (12:50).”

[10] Cardenal, Solentiname, 478. “Oscar: ‘It’s a great joy, man! In a feast we all get together and we share everything that’s there, and we all take part in all the talking and we’re all happy; you’re full of joy. And when we’re all together here, you feel happy, you feel a joy, it’s a kingdom that we’re all sharing in, it’s a little like, like the coming of the bridegroom, I’d say.’”

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Making the Journey a Good One

Psalm 107:1-2 Give thanks to the Lord, for Abba God is good, and God’s mercy endures for ever. Let all those whom the Lord has redeemed proclaim that God redeemed them from the hand of the foe.

Introduction

I don’t know about you, but I think life can be hard. None of us have recourse to the last time we did life, so all of it’s new and carries the mysterious paradox of being helpful and hindering. None of us asked to be born; all of us were born. Now, we’re here. All of us together. In this when, in this where, in this what, in this why, in this how; together for better and for worse.

I don’t know about you but I trip every so often (as in: often); I say the wrong thing, I do the wrong thing, I think the self-condemning thoughts, I hurt someone else, I hurt myself, and trip over which put I’m putting forward. So, even though living can be banal, life itself carries a fantastic amount of pain and personal suffering. (And I’ve not even commented on the real-life struggles that many people have that I don’t have, making this journey even harder.)

We’re all, each of us, trying to get from morning to night, from Sunday to Saturday, from one month to another, from one year to another, from point A to point B as well as we can. Anyone here absolutely killing it on this journey? I’m not, and I have it pretty good. How about you? Aren’t you just trying your best to go from point A to point B to the best of your ability, as a vulnerable and fleshy human, prone to having a troubled and agitated conscience? And if you’re doing that, then maybe your neighbor is, too? So, then, why do we heap up judgment and burdens on others, weighing them down on this already hard-enough journey?

Matthew 23:1-12

Then Jesus spoke to the crowds and to his disciples saying, “The Scribes and the Pharisees are seated on the seat of Moses. Therefore, you do and observe all things as much as they say to you, but do not act according to their works; for they are speaking and not acting. And they bind up heavy and oppressive burdens and add [them] upon the shoulders of the people, but they, they will not wish [to lift] their finger to move these burdens.

Mt. 23:1-4

Matthew tells us Jesus spoke to the crowds and to his disciples. At once, Matthew minimizes the distance between the disciples and the crowd. Why? Because what Jesus is about to say is for everyone; there’s no room for hierarchy in the economy of divine love for the whole world. Therefore, those who follow Christ—disciple or crowd—are all the same.

Then Jesus tells the collective, The Scribes and the Pharisees are seated on the seat of Moses. This means they’ve inherited Moses’s role of authority among the people (to teach and lead).[1] However, even though “Jesus shared in many of the concerns of the Pharisees,” Jesus sees things a bit differently.[2] So, Jesus then says, listen to them for they know what they are teaching, but do not follow their lead because they do not do as they command (vv. 3b-4). Here, Jesus illuminates the problem: it’s not enough to sit in the seat of Moses to be a true heir of Moses. If you do not hold yourself to the same standard you preach and teach and load up more oppressive and heavy burdens on the people, you’ve forfeited the role and the seat; Moses brought liberty to the Israelites, not more bondage and captivity.[3] In other words, “Torah should not be burdensome.”[4] So, without asking it, Jesus asks all those who have ears, “Who then is the ‘”true heir” of Moses?’”[5], [6]

The answer to the question is teased out in Jesus’s criticism of some of the Pharisees and Scribes who flaunt not only their actions (v. 5a) but also their garments among the people for the sole purpose of pomp and circumstance—they’re showing off their power and privilege by going about cloaked in robes with long tassels and adorned with broad phylacteries[7] attempting to manufacture respect and honor from the people (v. 5b). And it doesn’t stop there. Jesus goes on to talk about honorific titles. Not only do these certain Scribes and Pharisees take the chief place at dinners and the chief seat in the synagogue, they also expect to be called “Teacher” by the people (vv. 6-7). But Jesus tells the crowd and the disciples, But you, you are not to be called teacher for there is one teacher among you, and you are all siblings… (v. 8). In less words: everyone here is equal, limping together on the path of the same journey from point A to point B.[8]

And then Jesus wraps up the exhortations toward a shared and communal equality among the siblings who follow him, with this last promise, Now the great of you will be the servant of you; and whoever will exalt their own self will be made low and whoever will make their own self low will be exalted. So, what does it mean that those who are listening are to listen to the Pharisees and Scribes but not do what they do? Well, it looks a lot like mutual humility and humbling oneself to serve the neighbor, the one just like you, even if it means avoiding using burdensome titles;[9] this is the opposite of what certain Pharisees and Scribes were doing[10] being more concerned with their own status than with the well-being of the people.[11]

Conclusion

There is no hierarchy among the followers of Christ. In baptism, we all come out of the waters following Jesus on the same level no matter what accolades and earnings we have. This means, as we’re all equal in Christ we’re beckoned to humble ourselves and serve each other. Why? Because we are all busted up and limping along in life, trying desperately to get from point A to point B.

There’s a song by Sia, “Breathe Me,” that speaks to this very thing, it’s worth quoting some of the lyrics here:

Ouch, I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found
Yeah, I think that I might break
Lost myself again and I feel unsafe
Be my friend, hold me
Wrap me up, unfold me
I am small and needy
Warm me up and breathe me

I believe this song speaks to the inner world of any human trying desperately to get from point A to point B relatively unscathed and to the best of their ability. So, I wonder, why do we try to make this journey from point A to point B so hard for others and for ourselves? Why do we throw the rocks of judgment and condemnation at fellow travelers? Why do we make life, love, and liberation accessible to an elite few? Why do we dare to ban God—the very God who came low, born of a woman, servant of the poor, died forsaken—from those who need God, allowing God only to be for those who have the right title, robe, and station?

Every one of us here and out there is struggling to make it day to day, none of us has it all together no matter the ease and comfort of material objects. We are all vulnerable, fleshy creatures hanging on from one day to another, with very minimal safety nets that are truly safety nets. All we have, to be honest, is each other; we are only as secure as our community around us, this is why striking out alone doesn’t work in the end.

Beloved, God is with you because I am with you, because those sitting next to you (literally and virtually) are with you. Let us make this journey from point A to point B a good one, a fun one, a celebratory one. Let us walk, run, crawl, hobble, roll all the way there; let us carry and be carried; let us carry along the divine gifts of life, love, and liberation sharing these gifts with our siblings. Beloved, let us pull together and not apart; let us include and not alienate; let us bring God’s mercy and grace to all.

[1] Anna Case-Winters, Matthew, “Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible,” Edited by Amy Plantinga Pauw and William C. Placher, (Louisville: WJK, 2015) 265. “‘Moses’ seat’ is a symbol of authority for interpretation of the law as received from God and delivered to the people by Moses. In later synagogue architecture there was a literal ‘seat of Moses,’ and the rabbi would sit on it to give instruction.”

[2] Case-Winters, Matthew, 262. “Jesus shared the concerns of the Pharisees. He was closer to their thinking than to that of the Sadducees or the Essenes. However, he differed from Pharisees in his understanding of the relative importance of such things as ritual purity, tithing, Sabbath, and what he considered to be the ‘weightier matters of the law’ (23:23).” And later Case-Winters writes, “In early rabbinic writings, in fact, Pharisees themselves engage in pointed criticism of those who manifest the flaws that Jesus notes here,” (262-263.).

[3] Ernesto Cardenal, The Gospel in Solentiname Trans. Donald D. Walsh (Eugene: Wipf & Stock, 2010) 446. “I: ‘But it can be good for us if, as Christ says, we put into practice its freedom message that they didn’t put into practice. Moses brought the people out of Egyptian slavery and took them to another land to found a kingdom of freedom, and the chair of Moses means the temple of freedom. Now just like then there are people in that temple preaching the Gospel and defending oppression. What they preach is false, but only because they don’t practice it.”

[4] Case-Winters, Matthew, 263. “Jesus condemnation is directed at religious leaders who, charged the role of leadership, fail miserably. The most frequent charge is that they are hypocrites because ‘they do not practice what they teach’ (23:3). In their teaching they might be termed rigorists. They go further than what the law requires. For example, for them it is ‘not enough to keep the Sabbath ‘in a general way.’ it was necessary to define carefully which weekday activities constituted work and were therefore prohibited on the Sabbath.’ Jesus observes here that they tie up. Heavy burdens, hard to bear. (11:28-30).”

[5] Case-Winters, Matthew, 265. “A question of consequence arises in Jesus’s exhortation to do as the scribes and Pharisees say and not as they do. Are the Scribe’s and Pharisees really the ‘true heirs’ of Moses?”

[6] R. T. France The Gospel of Matthew The New International Commentary on the New Testament. Edited by Joel B. Green. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2007) 860. “Their behavior in effect annuls their ‘Mosaic; authority.”

[7] Cardenal, Solentiname, 447. “I: ‘Christ is talking about some adornments called phylacteries short bits of Scripture attached to the sleeves and the forehead, because in one of the books of the Bible it says that the Scripture should always be kept ‘close to the hand and in front of the eyes,’ and they believed that by doing this they were complying.’”

[8] Cardenal, Solentiname, 448. “I: ‘And he’s saying that we’re all equal and that we shouldn’t have any teachers except the one that brings those teachings about revolution.’”

[9] Case-Winters, Matthew, 264-265. “In a dramatic reversal of ordinary expectations, Jesus says, ‘The greatest among you will be your servant’ (v. 11). Members of the new community should not seek heightened status reflected in titles but rather humble themselves and seek to serve—aiming low instead of aiming high (23:11). The use of titles is not conducive to the well-being of the new community. Titles—whether ‘rabbi,’ or ‘father,’ or ‘instructor’ (or ‘Reverend’)—have their dangers, both for those who hold them and for those who call others by these titles.”

[10] Cardenal, Solentiname, 450. “Teresita: ‘Humbling yourself is serving, and the opposite of serving others is to control others.’”

[11] France, Matthew, 862-862. “In contrast with the scribes’ love of human approbation, Jesus calls on those who follow him to avoid honorific titles…They highlight a concern for status which, while taken for granted in secular society …ought not to characterize those who follow Jesus.”

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Hear (again) and Follow

Psalm 99:5, 9 Proclaim the greatness of our God and fall down before God’s footstool; God is the Holy One. […] Proclaim the greatness of our God and worship God upon God’s holy hill; for our God is the Holy One.

Introduction

When someone must repeat themselves, you know it’s serious. I know that in my lifetime, when I’ve had to repeat something or have something repeated to me, it’s important. The repetition beckons, “Come and listen … like, really, really listen!” It’s a moment of realization: Oh! This person isn’t joking! There’s no lol, jk, or w/e in the atmosphere. Just pure unadulterated please, for the love of God listen and see, hear and perceive!

The bad news about repetition? It’s humbling. It’s humbling to go from thinking you did perceive and comprehend what was articulated to you, and then realizing you don’t/didn’t. Truly, if the person on the other side of the dialogue and conversation is saying it again, you clearly didn’t get it—whether it’s immediately after the first time or days or weeks later. Repetition means the speaker doesn’t trust you picked up the core of the communique or that you have demonstrated that you did not hear well enough. So, sometimes saying something once isn’t enough and whatever it is must be repeated because whoever is listening isn’t really getting it (“it” being the important thing trying to be communicated). 

The good news? It’s encouraging because it means the one who is talking hasn’t given up on the listener just yet. The listener is still important to the speaker; so important that the speaker will condescend to remind—in clearer terms and with a more serious tone—hey, this is quite serious, and I love you enough to repeat it so you really, really hear me. Love is willing to beckon the beloved even if it means having to repeat oneself. 

So, this morning I have some good and bad news for you: our Gospel passage telling of Jesus’s transfiguration on the heights of some unknown mountain is divine-self repetition: God is repeating God’s self. This means, those who are following Christ haven’t quite gotten the “it” yet about who this Christ is and what he’s here to do. But it also means that God loves those hard-of-hearing-hoomans enough to repeat God’s self. 

Luke 9:28-36

Now, while [Peter] was saying these things a cloud happened and enveloped them. Now, they were afraid while entering into the cloud. And a voice sounded out of the cloud saying: “This one is my son, the one who has been chosen; listen to him!” And when the voice had sounded, Jesus was found alone. And [Peter, John and James] kept silent and reported to no one in those days nothing of these things they had perceived. [1]

(Luke 9:34-36)

Have you ever noticed that the divine declaration here is very similar to the divine declaration at Jesus’s Baptism? The scene might be different, and the number of people present fewer, but the message is the same. Thus, God is repeating God’s self.

So, Luke tells us that Jesus takes Peter, John and James up a mountain to pray. While they are there, Jesus’s appearance—amid praying[2]—transfigures: his face changes and his clothing “was gleaming bright”. Then, as if Jesus’s transfiguring wasn’t enough, two men appear and begin talking to Jesus about his “departure” from Jerusalem “which was about to be completed”. Who are these two men? Well, two beloved prophets of old: Moses and Elijah. Just like John the Baptist who carried the promise of God’s love, life, and liberation into the depths of the waters to baptize those willing to enter in, so Moses and Elijah also carried this same promise to the heights of the mountain to baptize God’s beloved in glory.

Then, consumed with baffled humanity, Peter—who was burdened for sleep along with John and James and after perceiving the glory of the other three—interrupts the glorified men and suggests the building of three tents for Jesus and the celestial visitors. There is nothing else in the second testament that makes me love Peter more than this moment. He does nothing wrong; he’s just too tired to get it, to comprehend and perceive what he sees and hears. He can see what is happening and he can hear the men talking, but the depth of the reality before him is still just right out of reach.

Then, just as he is suggesting a very human and practical thing—the building of three tents to contain the glory before him—God comes close contained in a cloud[3] and proceeds to interrupt Peter[4] (who interrupted Jesus, Moses, and Elijah) with the second iteration of a very important message: “This one is my son, the chosen one! Listen to him!” In other words, for the love of Me, love him and listen and see! Listen to me and then hear him and perceive! This is divine self-disclosure, another moment of divine self-revelation.[5] Here, as in the river Jordan before (and below), God is urging all those who have ears to hear to trust,[6] listen, and perceive:[7] another exodus from bondage is coming. If they didn’t catch it the first time it happened during Jesus’s baptism by cousin John in the Jordan, then catch it now: Moses (the liberator) has shown up accompanied by the prophet of prophets, Elijah, to discuss departure…those who are being held captive will be released, set free, loosed from captivity into the promised land,[8] into God.[9] Thus, listen to Jesus, the chosen divine son, for he is the interpreter of the law and the prophets, he is the door to life, love, and liberation, he is the truth and the way.[10] And what must Peter and others really, really listen to? Ernesto Cardenal tells us, “‘Christ is the word of God made flesh on earth, the message of God that we should love one another. That’s the word that the cloud says we must hear.’”[11]

Conclusion

While it feels like we may be bystanders here, or just some far future audience looking back in on a story about an event that happened ages ago, we are not such bystanders. We do not have the space to be an audience casually looking backward, being entertained by a story about ancient peoples just not getting it…as if we do. Because we don’t; and we must be asked to look and listen again. The key to understanding why I’m saying this is embedded in one simply Greek word Luke uses in this pericope: ἰδοὺ![12] Translated as “Behold!” or “Look!”, this is the word dismantling historical boundaries between us and Peter, John and James. We are ushered into the narrative, and we are asked (commanded!) to look and behold the events happening as if we are present! We are there, on the mountain, consumed by prayer and by a cloud, allowing our eyes to fall upon on Moses and Elijah, taking in all of Jesus’ transfigured glory; this all becomes important for us, too.[13]

We like to think that because we walk about with access to text that has been written down and translated into our language(s) we know it. But do you? Do I? Or do I need to hear it again? Maybe I need a divine repeated message that God loves me because I am too thick-skulled and too hard of hearing to hear and listen to this one whom God chose and in and through whom I am chosen by faith? Maybe in a time where chaos and tumult, fear and anger are the rule of the day, the law of the streets, the honor among the afraid and angry, maybe, just maybe I need to be reminded that God is bigger than I am, bigger than my ideas about the world and about God, bigger than whatever my most creative conceptions about life are, bigger than the deepest and widest void I can scream into, and even bigger than death.[14] Maybe, just maybe, I need this reminder so that my exhausted mind and body can be resurrected with God’s spirit, God’s breath, God’s life, love, and liberation so I can lay my hands on hope, remember mercy, recall grace, and dare to love God and my neighbor like my savior, Jesus Christ.

Beloved, take comfort: you are so loved that God is not above God’s self to repeat God’s words to you…In fact, God established this very place for you to hear again and again, to remind you, to recall to your heart the very concrete truth that you are loved so that you can go love your neighbor as you’ve been first loved by God, in Christ, by the power of the Holy Spirit.

[1] Translation mine unless otherwise noted

[2] Green, Luke, 380. “Not only is prayer mentioned twice, but this reference follows hard on the heels of the parallel reference in v18, where prayer is represented as the setting for divine disclosure. In fact, through the use of the participial form, Luke has it that while Jesus was praying he was transfigured (ct. 3:21-22).”

[3] Cardenal, Solentiname, 285. “‘…enveloped by the mystery of God.’”

[4] Green, Luke, 383.

[5] Joel B. Green The Gospel of Luke The New International Commentary on the New Testament Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1997. 377. “Luke’s transfiguration scene places a premium on the motif of sight. The ‘appearance’ of Jesus face changed, Luke’s audience is invited (along with the apostles) ‘to behold’ Moses and Elijah on the mountain with Jesus, these two OT figures appeared in glory, and the apostles ‘saw’ Jesus’ glory. Clearly, however, this ‘seeing’ is not enough, for Peter and those with him are able to witness all of this yet still seriously distort the meaning of these phenomena. From ‘seeing,’ then, the narrative turns to ‘hearing’ (vv. 35-36), after which, we are informed, the apostles told no one what they had ‘seen.’ Luke thus works in this scene with an understanding that is common in biblical narration—namely, ‘unaided human intellect cannot grasp history’s significance. One who reckons to understand the past implies a claim to God-given insight into the matter.’ The divine word illuminates; hence we may follow the narrative from the ‘seeing but not perceiving’ of vv. 28-34 to the ‘seeing and (beginning the process of) perceiving’ in v. 36. The whole scene is thus cast as a moment of revelation.”

[6] Justo L. Gonzalez Luke Belief: A Theological Commentary on the Bible Eds Amy Plantinga Pauw and William C. Placher. Louisville, KY: WJK, 2010. 127. “Thus the text shows Jesus to be at least the equal of Moses and Elijah, and certainly invested with the authority of God so that his teachings are inspired: ‘This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!’”

[7] Green, Luke, 384. “From an unimpeachable source, Jesus has been identified for them; as a consequence of this divine confirmation, they should regard his words, including his teaching on his destiny and the concomitant nature of discipleship (vv. 21-27), as reliable.”

[8] Green, Luke, 378. “What is the significance of these echoes? Is worth noting at the outset that, like other Hellenistic historiographers, Luke has reflected in his writing a general perception of history as the arena in which certain types of situations and characters appear. For Luke, if not for historiographers in general, this was due to his notion that historical events are divinely guided. This means that the Evangelist will have seen in the mission of Jesus a virtual, divinely ordained, reenactment of the exodus form bondage.”

[9] Cardenal, Solentiname, 284. “I: ‘In the Bible, God appears fundamentally like the God of Exodus, which is like saying the God of freedom. In the prophet Amos says that the Exodus of Israel was not the only one and that Yahweh had brought other peoples out of other slaveries. Which is like saying that Yahweh is the God of every revolution.’”

[10] Green, Luke, 384. “Indeed, as Luke will make clear, even these OT figures are now to be interpreted by Jesus, for his role as divine spokesperson has been endorsed by God himself. That is, it is not so much that the time of the law and prophets has passed as it is that Jesus has been designated as their authorized interpreter.”

[11] Cardenal, Solentiname, 285.

[12] Green, Luke, 381. “At the same time, Luke invites his audience to share their viewpoint through the use of ‘Look!’”

[13] Ernesto Cardenal The Gospel in Solentiname Trans. Donald D. Walsh. Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock, 2010. 282. “MARIA: ‘This happened when he was praying. And I think that for us too it’s important to pray. He was praying to prepare himself for what he was going to suffer.’”

[14] Gonzalez, Luke, 127. “Coming immediately after Jesus’ announcement of his sufferings and death, the transfiguration is thus a reminder that in spite of all outward signs of defeat and powerlessness, Jesus is ultimately more powerful than death and then the political and religious authorities in Jerusalem.”

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