This is My Beloved Son…Listen to Him

 

 

Do you remember when you first felt an undeniable prompt that called you to pursue a goal or an activity? I wonder how many of us know when we have heard and responded to God's voice. While reference to "a calling" is commonly associated with clergy, we don’t often consider that we’re “called” to a career or a secular vocation or even volunteering. But, why not? I pose this question because the story of the Transfiguration (Mark 9:2-10) reminds us to listen to and look for God’s will in all we do. And just like the spectacular events of the transfiguration blinded Peter, James and John, we too can be distracted by the “noise.”

The scene moves very quickly as Peter in all his excitement is eager to do something to acknowledge this transformative event even before he knows what he has seen or has transpired. We feel like saying to Peter "Please be quiet and just listen before you do anything!" While he was still speaking, a cloud came and cast a shadow over them, and they became frightened when they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my beloved Son; listen to him.”

Maybe everything started to become clear and make sense to Peter as he saw, listened and heard the word of God, but as we know too well, it didn't last very long. How many times did Jesus remind Peter of his destiny? Peter may hear but is he really listening? 

Perhaps Peter's transformation comes about when he repeatedly fails, falls, and is lifted up again. We too try our best and sometimes succeed and sometimes fail. We, too, have moments of insight and moments of denial. We too, fall down in fear and are raised up again to go forth in confidence. Isn’t this the pattern that shapes the lives of every Christian? Don’t we identify with Peter? Don’t we see ourselves in this story? This story is as much about Peter and Jesus as it is about us as we are asked to listen and to hear his voice and know God’s will for us.

In these past weeks Luke has called our attention to Jesus’ humanity in which we share a common bond. In this week’s gospel, Luke reveals Jesus divinity. Just as we share in Jesus’ humanity, we also share in his divinity. We must listen as we are called and if we are to be transformed and become disciples of Jesus and to be the people of God.

“There have been quite a few times when I have felt the winds of God’s grace in the sails of my small boat. Sometimes these graces have moved me in pleasant and sunlit directions. At other times the requested acts of love were born in the darkness of struggle and suffering. There have been spring times and there have been long cold winters of struggle for survival. God has come to me at times with the purest kindness, at times with the most affirming encouragement, and at other times with bold frightening challenges. I think that all of us have to watch and pray, to be ready to say “yes” when God’s language is concrete and his request is specific-“yes” in the sunlit spring times and “yes’ in the darkness of winter nights.” (John Powell, S.J., The Christian Vision, The Truth That Sets Us Free, p147)

 

Our Jouney to the Cross

Lent is an important part of our journey. Each step we take has been walked at one time in the gospels. We know that this our spiritual journey begins in the desert and leads us to the cross and to a tomb and “ends” with Easter, where our journey to God begins again. In our readings for next Sunday, Mark1:12-15, the first Sunday in Lent, we are told that “Jesus was led by the Spirit in the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil.” What do these temptations or tests mean to us in our lives today? There are questions we answer with our lips, and those we answer with our lives.I have been fortunate to have travelled fairly extensively in my life, both for business and pleasure. Admittedly travelling is one of my passions, although in recent years I am more selective about my destination with regard to the risk to benefit associated with where and why I am travelling. Is the payoff worth the sacrifice?

Over the years I have observed that there are two types of journeymen. I would categorize these as being either tourists or travelers. The tourist travels through his journey in comfort, ensuring that his experiences are familiar and safe. He makes sure that he takes “his stuff” from back home with him. There are many vendors along the way who, for a price, would be willing to accommodate the tourist’s expectations and satisfy his needs, most of which are likely superficial and soon forgotten when he returns home armed with photos, souvenirs, and pleasant memories.

On the other hand, a traveler is one whose goal is to enjoy the journey as part of a total experience in which the destination is just a part of a continuum. He travels to open his mind and spirit to new experiences and perhaps delve into the unknown in the hope that something new will learned and be revealed. The difference between the traveler and the tourist is that the traveler becomes the experience while the tourist rides on the outside and looks in.

Last January, we took a trip to the Galapagos Islands; our primary goal was to savor the new learning experience as an expedition and be as totally involved as circumstances would permit. This required us to push our bodies safely beyond their accustomed limits, and leave our “comfort zones.” There were no cell phones, internet or TV and while our accommodations were relatively sparse, they were satisfactory. While this hardly could be called a luxurious vacation, it was one of the most exhilarating trips I’ve ever taken as we were living in the experience, absorbed by the journey… as an expedition, completely focused on the experience and unencumbered by distractions. The trip was one of personal transformation in which new perspectives on life and interests were born and still linger not just as memories but as building blocks for what might lie ahead.

Jesus’ time in the desert somehow relates to our journey as travelers, not just tourists. He leaves his comfort zone to prepare himself for what would was to come, while totally immersed and resisting anything that get in the way of his quest. So, as we begin Lent this Wednesday and follow Jesus into the desert, we are reminded that the purpose of our existence is to walk with Jesus on his journey and live in his experience and know the presence of God in our lives. There is a seed of desire in each of us, a fundamental motivation, a basic longing for the fulfillment of that purpose. Augustine tells us that ‘Thou has made us for thyself and our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee.’ Accordingly, we are not only born with God at our center, but we are born with a heart full desire for God. This yearning is our fundamental motive force; it is the human spirit. It is the energy behind everything we seek and aspire to. And if indeed we are in intimate union with God in the center, then the soul’s desire is God’s desire. The soul’s love for God is God’s love for the soul. (Gerald May, Dark Night of the Soul)

 

Lord, I know you can make me clean

If you had only four words to describe Jesus, what words would you choose? When we read the passage from Mark 1:40-45 assigned for this Sunday we not only find the message of his whole Gospel as well as what are Mark's four words.

Compassion: Mark doesn't often relate Jesus' psychological state, but he does here. When Jesus sees this man approach him in need, he is moved immediately to compassion. Not judgment: "What have you done to cause this to happen?" No, he just feels compassion. This is Jesus, the Word made flesh; the Son of God. This is God: not judgmental, or demanding, but compassionate.

Touch: There is an intimacy to touch that we can take for granted. Ask the elderly, the ill, the depressed, or the isolated just how rare and beautiful human touch is and we may be surprised (or maybe just reminded) that there are few gestures as profound, loving, and healing as human touch. Jesus could have healed with a word, with a gesture, or with a command, but instead he reaches out to touch him. Here, too, is God's character revealed, as we discover a God so eager to be in relationship with us that God takes on our form and flesh, assumes our lot and our life, so that God can reach out to touch us in love.

Willing: Jesus does more than simply respond to the man's plea; he affirms his deepest hopes that, though a leper, he still has value, dignity and worth. That he is, finally, a child of God. Here we are again confronted by God's often surprising and always uncontrollable mercy and grace.

Lonely: Make no mistake. These acts of mercy, while perhaps free, nevertheless cost Jesus. There is, an exchange going on here. This man, now healed, is also restored to his community, while Jesus can no longer travel freely or even enter the towns anymore. Love always costs something. We don't know why Jesus asked the man to be silent; maybe it’s the whole "Messianic secret" thing, but maybe it was because he knew this would make it difficult to walk and talk and preach and heal freely. Whatever the reason, and whatever the risk, he nevertheless heals, heedless of the cost. He trades places with this man -- losing his freedom that this man may find his -- out of love. Love costs. Ask any parent, or grandparent, or lover, or friend. Yet that is what we find in God.

So maybe one way to get at this text this week would be to think about the images we have of God. These images were often formed when we were children and are as part of our formative years, powerful and often unconscious things. What are the four words do we think best describe Jesus and God?  After naming and exploring these a bit, perhaps we could re-read Mark's words and the image that flows from there.

How are Mark's and our visions similar? How do they differ?  The point isn't to critique defective images of God  as to who really imagines God rightly but instead to keep affirming, keep offering, keep proclaiming an image of a God who is compassionate; reaches out to touch us in love; is so willing and eager to embrace us in healing, forgiveness, and grace; and eagerly embraces the pain and sin of the world out of love for us, for us and the whole wide world we live in .
(adapted from Dear Working Preacher, David Lose, Feb, 2012.)