John 4:5-42

I was sitting at a restaurant in one of those long tables where everyone is packed together and you are caught in the conversation next to you.   The woman sitting next to me, seemed tired and distant.  In the middle of the meal she blurted out to a friend:  “I do not think I can take any more.”

This woman’s family was in crisis, her 15 year old granddaughter was pregnant and the 16 year old father refused responsibility.  Her 45 year old son had relapsed and was drinking heavily once again.   She found that she was ineffective in addressing both situations and her futile attempts were causing further problems.  The entire family dynamic was in chaos and falling apart.   

I caught the reaction of friends, a few seemed surprised, a couple had that cruel look of satisfaction, the “I knew your family was not perfect” look while others were genuinely distressed. The lady had that long far away, hopeless stare, you know the one:  face drawn, eyes downward,  her fist clenching a tissue that had caught hundreds of tears.

One kind woman in an attempt to comfort patted the woman hand and used that old saying: “It is O.K., God does not give you anything that you cannot handle…” I had to bite my lip, I wanted to scream – no, no, no! We are not guests on Survivor, Redemption Island.  God does not sit in heaven creating unconquerable obstacles courses for lives.

The statement is like saying God knows that I can swim, so for the fun of it, he will just throw me overboard and for the fun of it, hang a 200 lb weight around my neck. Yes, for many of us, for some, right now, there are times when life seems burdensome.  Money is short and you cannot pay the bills.

You cannot seem to make your bosses happy at work, they pick constantly, you have made bad choices that affect you today, children and grandchildren engage in destructive behavior.  You cannot take it anymore; you are carrying far too many burdens.  Like that woman at the Flying Star or the women carrying the water jug to the well.  

Today’s Gospel offers a different glimpse of what God gives us.   An unnamed woman, going through her daily routine, who carries the burdens not only on her back, but on her face and through her life.   She suddenly learns something about herself and more importantly, something about God.   It is interesting that through the centuries, she has been portrayed in the most negative of terms.  

Some have insinuated she was a woman of loose morals, married numerous times – imagine big earrings, heavy make up, skimpy outfits – she was socially unacceptable.   The text emphasizes that she probably lived on the fringes, not only because she was a woman, and a Samaritan, but because she was at the well in the middle of the day.  

Most women of the village draw water first thing in the morning, while it was still cool.  She was out alone in the heat of the day.  Was it because she had a checkered past, or was it because she was living a sinful life.  Even among outcasts, this woman seemed to be an outcast.  


We often form instant opinions of people, we read a few lines and determine she was morally corrupt.  But we do not really know her life, what caused her to come out in the middle of the day.     Maybe she endured a terrible life because of her birth, her status, she never had any options.

Could it be that because she was poor, and a  woman, she was doomed to victimization by a social system where she could not be nothing more that an object that served the needs of the males of society?.  Possibly like many of us, she did not want to be alone.  Or she endured the life before her because this was the only path to survive.   And when you live only to survive, you are not living, you are just surviving.  

Tired she bumps into Jesus.  On that day, with all her burdens, maybe she spoke to Jesus because he was the only one who cared, who would listen.  You wonder, why today, why this man.  And how does Jesus respond to this outcast?. Jesus talks to her, he accepts the woman as she I, with all the worries on her face. He looks into the eyes of the individual and meets her as she is—refusing to give into stereotyping or judgment or expectations.

Jesus does not tell her, you know life is rough and that pitcher looks pretty heavy, God wants you to carry it.   That although her life is terrible, God will only give her what she can handle - so deal with it.   Jesus sees something more beyond the obvious.

He knows her life, her pain, her missteps, her tears, her life, her desired to be loved. Jesus sees her, not as the world sees her, but as God see’s her.  Jesus in essence tells her – “I know exactly who you are and it is ok.  I know you, you are a woman, you are a Samaritan, I know your past and know what you are going through and you know what, it is going to be ok, I am here.  

He then tells her I am the hope you are looking for.  You are important, despite your situation, despite your past, you will always be a precious child of God.   I am here for you, and you will be O.K.  

It must have felt like heaven.  The one who knows all she ever did, all that she is, and all that she can be, let her know that she was not alone, that she could go forward.  Jesus probably performed one of his greatest miracles, no, he did not move his hands and immediately changed her condition.

He made her realize her importance to him, to God, and that realization assured her that she could face anything.  She became new, filled with hope, filled with strength.  She could walk away from the well.  This tired woman, runs off in such excitement, she leaves the heavy water jar at the well.
 
We often face that glaring midday sun, when we go through the day carrying our burdens, wondering how we are going to make it.  Waiting for us is Christ.  Christ, the one that renews and gives hope.  When we feel that we cannot take it anymore, when we feel like that weight is too much to carry, Jesus looks for us and assures us that it will be o.k.  And when we approach him, like that woman, there is acceptance, not embarrassment, nor judgment.

We are more than a collection of deeds and misdeeds, our lives are more than a life full of burdens that we have to shoulder.  When we feel that we cannot take it anymore, God is there to help us, not to burden, not to judge, not to create obstacles.  

This knowing relieves a huge burden; we are secure with our past and confident in our future.  Jesus loved everybody he ever met as if that one were the only person in the entire world. He loved all as He loved each. Every person who looked into the eyes of Jesus found an affection looking back at them which said in powerful ways, "What happens to you makes a difference to me."

Jesus knows each one of us, our past, our troubles, he sees our butterfly inside of the cocoon, the robin inside of the egg, the forgiven within the sinner, the spark of life instead of darkness of sadness.   A plain, everyday woman who struggled, who cried, went through the endless cycle of hurting, realized that she could walk forward.  

Today that greatest of miracles still occurs, because what happens to you, makes a difference to Christ.  No, our burdens will not magically disappear, but knowing that we are not alone and that we will make it, allows us to leave that 200 lb weight at the his feet.   The love of God known in Jesus Christ is not one filled with “God only gives us what we can handle.”

The love of God is a love that meets us where we are, that speaks to us in the glaring midday sun, a love that eases the burdens when we cannot take it anymore.  

Jesus speaks to each one of us, like he spoke to that woman at the well:  “I know who you are, I know what you are going through, I am here and it will be ok.  When we realize this, you we can leave it at the well, and go forward, knowing.  Because there is only one thing that God gives us more than we can handle, and that is -  love. 

LENT II: John 3:1-17
Deacon Janice Bales
March 20, 2011

Here we are on the Second Sunday of Lent.  Some of us have given things up, some of us have taken things on, some of us have done both.  Some of us are seeking ways to deepen our relationship with God and some of us are blithely ignoring the opportunity.  Four weeks to go before Palm Sunday and the holiest of weeks as we make our way to the cross and burst through it to Easter morn.  Death and resurrection:  that’s what life in Christ is all about.    We like the resurrection part.  It’s the dying part we often don’t want to deal with, letting go of little things and big things.  Abraham had o let go of a lot.  He was 75 years old, rich, big family, ready to retire no doubt and God comes along and says, “Leave your country, your family and your father’s home for a land that I will show you.”  I might have responded, “Whoa!  Wait a minute, God.”  In a New Yorker cartoon, two sophisticated couples are having cocktails.  One of the men says, “I’m in the market for an easier religion.”  Well, I can identify with that sentiment.

Today’s gospel had been rattling around in my head for a few weeks as I was thinking about Nicodemus and what he was seeking.  I thought I had the sermon worked out.  But as happens so many times when I think I am in control, everything changes. The disaster in Japan these past days changed my perspective.  As if the natural catastrophe caused by the earthquake and tsunami were not enough, there is the unfolding drama of potential nuclear harm.  How ironic that while the Japanese had been deeply wounded by the use of atom bombs ending WWII, they saw the potential for the peaceful use of that same energy to fuel 30% of their national needs.  The events in Japan have almost totally overshadowed the developments in the Middle East which have moved from a euphoric victory from oppression in Egypt to the relentless elimination of the same wave of freedom in Libya, Bahrain and elsewhere.  On top of that, news from Afghanistan tells us we can’t seem to dominate a war in spite of our technology and good intentions.  

Reading the Nicodemus story anew, all I could think was “it’s the old control issue.”  The earthquake and tsunami are proof that we humans do not control  nature.  The development of nuclear fusion is something we thought we controlled since we invented it, as it were.  But it seems we are not totally in control of that which we have unleashed.  And as to wars, well, wars have always been about control:  control of land, control of power, control of resources, control of freedom and control of ideology.  Perhaps one the hardest lessons for Americans the past 60 years is that we do not control the world and our ambiguous diplomatic and military efforts since WWII have been proof of that.

Nicodemus comes to Jesus in the middle of the night, a seeker from the old religion looking for answers from this young rabbi called Jesus.  To tell you the truth, this gospel story repelled me  for many  years.  As chaplain at the Grant’s women’s prison this lesson often felt like a thorn in my side.   The majority of my well- meaning and faithful volunteers came from religious traditions that are more literal and fundamental in scriptural understanding than mine.  

I do not know how many times I was asked if I was born again.  It was one too many, for sure.  Probably because of my spiritual immaturity, I went on the defensive.  A control issue, I suppose.  The question implied that because  I was baptized as an infant, I could not be saved since I could not have made a conscious decision to be baptized.  And while that little voice kept telling me I was “sealed as Christ’s own forever” the constant badgering made me wish I could say something like “on 4:22 pm, December 13, 1968  I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior.”  But lacking spiritual maturity (I’m not there yet, folks), I waged my own silent passive aggressive wars against the volunteers who were bent on baptizing the women inmates for the 2nd, 3rd, and maybe 4th time.  Thus, every time you converted, turned back to Christ, or decided that one church might offer you more salvation than another, you needed to be baptized again.  I think you see where this line of thought goes.  Once you have been saved, you don’t have room for mistakes, or changing your mind.  This is not a helpful outlook for inmates in a prison or anyone else as far as I can tell.  But now I see aspects of anxiety as a control issue.   Although I didn’t pretend to have the “right” answer to many scriptural issues,  I didn’t like feeling spiritually inadequate because I wasn’t meeting someone else’s standards.

Now, of course, I realize that I have been born again and again and again and there is nothing wrong with that.  It accepts the wonderful grace of God, not a cheap grace that I can abuse, but understanding that in my humanness, I will commit mistakes, I will sin and I am going to fail in attempting to pull myself up by my own bootstraps.  My prayerful intent is to grow into my relationship with God.  I have to let go of a lot of stuff, dying in many ways in the process.  Perhaps Nicodemus was trying to do this.  Grow.   

But what do we know about Nicodemus?  He appears three times in the Gospel of John.  This is interesting.  Besides those men and women in Jesus’ inner circle of disciples and historical figures of the time, few others are mentioned by name in the Gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.   But of the many who encountered Jesus in life-changing situations, few are named:  Baritmeus, Zaacheus, Simon the leper, Simon the Pharisee, Simon of Cyrene, Malcus, Joseph of Arimathea, and Nicodemus.   One could infer that their names survived because they became disciples of Jesus and leaders in the early church.  What happened to the women?  What was the name of the woman at the well?  The woman with the bent back?  That’s another sermon.

We first encounter Nicodemus today in Chapter 3, coming to see Jesus at night; again in Chapter 7 unsuccessfully defending Jesus at a Sanhedrin meeting; and lastly in Chapter 19 helping Joseph of Arimathea take and prepare Jesus’ body for burial.  

From these passages we can derive some interesting things about Nicodemus.  He is a Pharisee and on the Sanhedrin.  Nicodemus is a Greek name, used by the Jews, meaning  ‘conqueror’ or ‘ruler’ of the people. He belongs to the controlling religious group in Jewish circles.  Of course, they are under the control of Rome and have to tread cautiously at times.  Aside from the dark and light symbolism, it is possible Nicodemus comes to see Jesus at night because he likes his position and doesn’t want to be seen by others. We next encounter Nicodemus, in Chapter 7.  Jesus has been teaching in the Temple and stirring up the crowds divided between those who believe Jesus is the Messiah and those who don’t.  The police report to the Sanhedrin that trouble is brewing.  The Pharisees retort that only the rabble believe in Jesus.  Nicodemus speaks up.  “Does our Law decide about a man’s guilt without first listening to him and finding out what he is doing?”  But his cohorts cut him off.  “Are you also campaigning for the Galilean?  Examine the evidence.  See if any prophet ever comes from Galilee.”  Nicodemus is silenced.  The text says, “Then they all went home.” So, Nicodemus may be part of a powerful group, but not in control of it.  We last hear of Nicodemus in Chapter 19:  Joseph of Arimathea has petitioned Pilate to take the body of Jesus from the cross.  Nicodemus, who had first come to Jesus at night, comes now in broad daylight carrying a mixture of myrrh and aloes, about seventy-five pounds, to help prepare Jesus body for burial.  So Nicodemus controlled of a lot of wealth because this is a lavish amount of spices.

And this time he doesn’t seem to mind being seen in broad daylight.  Some speculate that Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus were secret disciples.  Not secret now.    What did Jesus say in that initial encounter that moved Nicodemus from darkness to light.  Let’s go back to that first encounter.  Nicodemus acknowledges that he believes Jesus to be from God because of the God-revealing acts performed by Jesus.  Quoting Eugene Peterson’s version, Jesus affirms his observation saying, “You’re absolutely right.  Take it from me:  Unless a person is born from above, it’s not possible to see what I’m pointing to---to God’s kingdom.”  “What?”  Nicodemus asks, “How can anyone be born who has already been born and grown up?  You can’t enter your mother’s womb and be born again.  What are you saying with the ‘born-from-above’ talk?”  Nicodemus has to be delivered from the literal:  the things he can control, the things he can grasp.  Jesus helps him along the way, saying,  “You’re not listening.  Let me say it again.  Unless a person submits to this original creation –the wind-hovering-over-the-water creation, the invisible moving the visible, a baptism into a new life –it’s not possible to enter God’s kingdom.  When you look at a baby, it’s just that: a body you can look at and touch.  But the person who takes shape within is formed by something you can’t see and touch—the Spirit—and becomes a living spirit.  So don’t be surprised when I tell you that you have to be ‘born from above’ –out of this world so to speak.  You know well enough how the wind blows this way and that.  You hear it rustling through the trees, but you have no idea where it comes from or where it’s headed next.  That’s the way it is with everyone ‘born from above’ by the wind of God, the Spirit of God.”  Boy, I wish I had this down to earth rendition of the text before I started work in prison.  

Nicodemus enjoys control over many things but has come to Jesus seeking something more.  Jesus has given him images of two uncontrollable things:  the experience of being born and the experience of being windswept.  Jesus seems to be inviting this powerful executive to allow faith in God to enter his life, not so that Nicodemus will relinquish control, but so that he can entrust control to the source of grace, and allow the void in his life to be filled. (O’Driscoll, God with Us, p.39)

Although for some being born again may have a date and place attached, for others like me it may happen time and time again in moments of relinquishing control to God’s grace.  Last week the writer in Forward Day by Day commenting on being born again said:  “God has dismantled and reconstructed me and my faith several times…..  Moreover, I doubt that God’s finished.  For all I know, God will continue to work on me in the next life.  In fact, I hope so.  I wouldn’t care for a life—on earth, in heaven, or anywhere—that’s always the same, with nothing new to learn, no cutting edges, no challenges to face, no new revelations of the goodness of God.”  I would add, I would care for a life with no mystery.

Indeed, the Spirit of God is beyond our control and blows where it will.  It may just blow us over at times as at the death of our best friend.  Or it may gently waft around us, causing us to look up to Sandia’s crest at sunset.  However it comes, it will deliver us from the literal, cut the cord and like a baby we can start life anew.  Are you born again?  Are you ready?  Bring it on!  Amen.

In another time, another place, another season of Lent, I was having a conversation with a friend I chanced to meet while downtown. As we talked, the flow of our conversation suddenly stopped. Then he said: Let me tell you what happened in my church last Sunday. After the sermon our pastor asked us to observe a period of silence for meditation. You know that by the time the silence ended, I was about to lose my mind! I wondered why?

I believe he was afraid. He felt threatened. He sensed within himself a mysterious vulnerability, and he wanted whatever was causing this discomfort to stop. His experience was not unique. In fact, I believe that in our American culture – our way of life – silence, quiet, stillness, may be our greatest fear. We are continually surrounded, immersed in a cacophony of sounds and seemingly endless activity provided by a whole family of electronic enablers to which we are addicted. Even parish churches, once dedicated as places of quietness, no longer give us that assurance. Avoidance tactics and lack of resolve to give priority for quiet time, rob us of a great gift – to heed the words of the psalmist: “Be still and know that I am God.”. We were born for this! Remember who you are?

Remember the Genesis story that tells us that God created we human beings and all beings, through the life-giving, creative power of his holy Spirit. And God said: “It was good”. God was in love with us from the very beginning. He has “planted” Himself, an awareness of his “real presence” within each of his children, people like us. We call the site of that mysterious “real presence,” our soul. Our soul is at the heart of what it means to become the real person God envisioned. But as the story reminds us, we chose instead to rival God and go our own way with our new-found egos and self-consciousness.

Our journey became a life of exploring and discovery, searching to know what this journey is all about. We might answer: Get a life! And, as we know, we began defining life in our own image, a life increasingly full of ourselves. We forgot that God planted his presence within each of our lives. We still have a soul, we are still a “spirit-filled” creation, still loved by God. As in all ages, when our “spiritual amnesia” begins to lift, we see dimly, but we discover that the gods made in our own image fail us, and the words of an old prayer remind us that we are surrounded “by faithless fears and worldly anxieties.” Some might be tempted to recall words from an old Peggy Lee song: “bring out the booze and let’s keep on dancing – if that’s all there is.”

Thank God, there is more to life than that! Remember who you are? The “real presence” of God lives within your very own being – every man, woman, and child. We have souls that will never die. Stillness and quiet times will reaffirm that presence within you. Don’t be afraid. It is a gateway on your inner journey of discovery, of becoming the newness of life for which you were created in spite of our rebellion.

But growing pains accompany “newness of life.” The inner journey of “becoming” is not without risks and challenges. After all Lent is not simply another annual self-improvement program, “spring training,” polishing up our personal rough edges. At its heart, it is “soul-searching,” seeking a deeper communion with a “real presence,” the Spirit of God that lives within you. Lent is not the time we clean up the old model, it is the time we begin or continue that inner journey of transformation. Now we examine the risks and challenges. Now we turn to today’s Gospel according to St. Matthew. We call it “Jesus’ Temptations in the Wilderness.” (Think – Test/Challenge) It is important to remember that only Jesus could have told this account.

As soon as Jesus came up from Jordan’s baptismal waters, he saw in a vision the Spirit of God coming down, enveloping him with God’s Presence, and he heard a voice: “This is my Son, the Beloved; my favor rests upon him.” Jesus is the human face of God, the Real Human Being, yet bound inextricably within God’s mysterious presence and boundless love. At that moment he had no choice but to seek out a desert place of solitude, silence, stillness to fully realize what the future now held for him. At the end of his time of fasting, he began to find out.

The devil knew that Jesus was God’s Messiah, so he began his “mind games,” “ego games” with him, testing him with three challenges. The first one: “If you are the Son of God turn these brown stones that look like barley loaves into bread.” Jesus replied: “People can’t just live on bread alone. They need every word of love that God has to give them.” Next, the Devil took him to a high wall by the Temple on the edge of a cliff: “If you are the Son of God, thrown yourself off of this wall. Scripture says: Angels will catch you and you won’t even hurt your foot against a stone.” Jesus said: “You don’t play those kind of testing games with the Lord your God.” And last, the biggest temptation of all. From a high mountain, he gives Jesus a vision of all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. It’s all yours if you fall down at my feet and worship me.” Jesus replies: “Satan, get out of here. You and I both know that in the end you must worship and serve the Lord your God.” It was over for now, but Jesus knew that more spiritual warfare was to come. All of the “mind games” Satan played with Jesus perhaps can be summed up in one sentence: “Forget about who you are. Every person wants what I am offering you. Imagine – it’s all for you…and it’s free!”

What “mind games,” “ego games,” challenge our lives, our journeys? I suspect that each one of us can spend some time with this question, especially as we translate our Lord Jesus’ temptations, tests, challenges into the arena of our own lives.

The Lenten season and every season of your life is an opportunity to contemplate that soul-searching question: Who am I? Remember who you are.

Consider this:
1. The gift of God’s “real presence” lives forever within you. It is an inner journey that always awaits you.
2. The gatewas is through a time of silence, quiet, stillness, alone.
3. The 23rd Psalm is a gateway to lead you on your inner journey and I would like us to recite the King James Version together.
4. Open the red Prayer Book, p. 476, the King James Version. Let us read it thoughtfully together. It is the narrative of each of our lives.
5. Close: What Jesus said to those first disciples as they journeyed with Him, Jesus says to you: “Courage. It is I. Do not be afraid.”

Ash Wednesday March 9, 2011
St. Michael’s Episcopal Church   
Albuquerque New Mexico
Preacher: Christopher McLaren

Ash Wednesday has arrived with the March winds and the blessing of snow in the mountains.  We are gathered here in the quiet of this place surrounded by family, brothers and sisters in Christ, old and new, known and unknown to begin our 40 day adventure of Lent. Over the years I’ve found that people love Lent. They look forward to it as an intentional time to become attentive to their own spiritual life. It is a welcome time to become reflective, to take stock of our lives, to slow-down in order to pay attention to the movement of our hearts, to become aware of our souls hunger for God.  

There are classical ways that the faithful have used for centuries to embrace Lent. You can hear them in the distinctive invitation to a Holy Lent that we will hear in just a few minutes.

I invite you, therefore, in the name of the Church, to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God's holy Word.
       - The Lenten Invitation from the Book of Common Prayer.

These classic ways of opening ourselves up to God have much to offer.
Self-examination can be a transformative. What would it mean to take stock of your life by evaluating your own physical, mental and spiritual health this Lent?  Or perhaps you sense in the Lent a time to consider where you are in your relational health with your partner or your friends? Are there areas you desire to work on, conversations you need to have, or forgiveness you need to offer? How is it with your soul this day? Perhaps it is time to get your spiritual journal out once again, to make an appointment with your spiritual director or  to finally seek out the counseling you’ve been avoiding?

Repentance. Do you need a fresh start? Are there things that you need to let go of so that you can start moving forward again toward health and wholeness?  The biblical understanding of repentance isn’t about feeling bad about yourself, it is about realizing that you have no reason to be trapped in your past because in God’s steadfast love there are always second chances. Repentance is not dwelling on our past failures but rather about seeing how hopeful the future really is with God.  Perhaps this Lent it would help you to make a confession, to embrace the Sacrament of Reconciliation of a Penitent as a way to move forward through things that you are holding you back from truly embracing the life God has in front of you?

Prayer. Perhaps what you really sense is a desire to be in a deeper conversation with God. Maybe you really want to embrace prayer this Lent, to cultivate a lively conversation with God in your own life. There is really no substitute for time to listen deeply and to share the important stories of your heart with God. The truth is that God wants to know you and be known by you and is looking for ways to cultivate a deeper intimacy.  If you have this sense you are already alive to the loving movement of God toward you. Perhaps you will find a welcome place to explore your own prayer life at the contemplative prayer group on Monday nights or through one of the small groups reading An Altar in the World this Lent.

Fasting, an almost lost discipline in our culture, is an ancient spiritual practice designed to help us get in touch with our own need of God while at the same time recognizing that our bodies are gifts from God and need to be lovingly cared for. The truth is that we have other hungers beyond food and fasting can help us get in touch with our deeper needs.  We have other appetites that need to be fed, most importantly our need for relationship with God. Perhaps exploring this ancient discipline is just what you need to discover your own deep hunger for the things of God in your daily life.  

There are other kinds of fasting as well. Listen to these powerful words from Isaiah we heard today:

Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?
Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up quickly;
your vindicator shall go before you,
the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard.
Then you shall call, and the LORD will answer;
you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am. (Isaiah 58)

For weeks now a very dedicated group of people have been up in Santa Fe almost every day advocating for the most vulnerable in our society, children, immigrants, the deaf, the unemployed and this too is a kind of spiritual discipline God calls us into because caring for and defending the most vulnerable is close to the heart of God.

Self-denial, it sounds like so much fun. I had a college professor who claimed he gave up self-denial every year for Lent. I never quite bought it. Why do we discipline our own appetites, refuse to satisfy all our own desires or needs? For many reasons but chiefly to help us focus on what is really important in our lives, to simplify or do without helps us to consider what we really need, what is really important, what will really satisfy our souls. It also helps us to understand how blessed we are to realize how much we can really do without, how simple life can become, or how much we can actually give away of our selves and our possessions.  Life is really not about us, it is about being God’s person in the world and self-denial can help us discover this.

The Lenten invitation offers us a rich array of choices to pursue a deeper and more honest spiritual life. It is not about pretending to be holy or trying to fool ourselves. It really is about getting real with God, not being afraid to admit that we actually belong to Christ. In baptism we are sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever. It is the same powerful gesture that Lent offers us this day.

I think that there is a lot of confusion around the ashes imposed on this day. What are these ashes a symbol of?  To be sure they are a symbol of our mortality but is that all? Are the words, “Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return” meant to be as one theologian put it a kind of “sacrament of death” (as if such a thing were possible).  Not at all. To be sure the ashes connect us to the earth to which our bodies will return eventually. But that is not what Ash Wednesday is about.

The cross with which the ashes are traced upon us, is the sign of Christ’s victory over death. It is not a symbol of death but rather of new life. The cross is the place of God’s ultimate victory. The cross, in all of its pain and suffering, is the place where we discover that God is indeed the lover of our souls and is willing to sacrifice anything to draw us back to himself. So this day is not about our coming death but rather about the new life offered to us in realizing that we belong to God. As we face our own mortality on Ash Wednesday we do so in the sure and certain hope that we belong to God, A God whose love is more powerful than death, more powerful than our failures, more powerful than our egos, more powerful than our brokenness, more powerful than our hilarious attempts at being perfect.

Ash Wednesday is a simple but profound reminder that even in our finitude we belong to God. The ashen cross we take upon our bodies this day is nothing less than a reminder that the steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, God’s mercy never comes to an end. You never cease to belong to God, not even death can change that. This is good news of Ash Wednesday. This is the meaning of that holy smudge on your forehead.  You belong to God and always will.

One of the great blessings and joys of my life at St. Michaels are the friendships I have made.  One of the most personal and moving has been my friendship with Kenny.  For those of you that do not know Kenny, he attends the 7:30 service with his mother Carol.  At times he serves an acolyte or he brings the gifts.

I can always count on Kenny to be one of the first to greet me in the parish hall after the service.  I keep a gift that Kenny gave me one Christmas, an ornament that plays “O holy night” in one of our rooms.  I see Kenny as a member of the servant of worship, a devoted member but more importantly, as a friend.

However, when I see the true Kenny are those instances, when he comes up to me, his face lights up and he tells me where he placed in the latest Special Olympic event.  It could be bowling, skiing or swimming, it does not matter.  He is transfigured, there is a sense of purity, a sense of perfection, a sense that God is near.

When he recounts his story, for a moment I am speechless.  I do not see the Kenny as the world sees him, I see the person Kenny was born to be. It transcends words or simple explanations.   The same feeling when I see a horse run at a full gallop, an eagle soar among the cottonwoods or when I hear my son sing a solo.  There is purity, a knowing, they are fulfilling what God has placed within them.  

I cannot help but close my eyes and attempt to visualize that scene on the mountaintop, Peter gazing with wonder at Jesus touching the divine. When the Apostles walked with Christ, they knew he was special, they knew there was something about him, but it was there at that mountaintop where they began to see Jesus in a new way.

Peter, James and John got a brand-new insight into this Jesus, who really was — transforming, consuming, literally enlightening. He appears with Elijah and Moses, yet not the same, something new, unique and life changing.  Not Moses the lawgiver, nor Elijah, the prophet.  Jesus, the Son of God.  And then the words, "This is my beloved."

It is no longer just a rumor, God is validating why Jesus walked this earth.   A poor young carpenter, who preached, who loves the poor, heals the sick, welcomes the outcasts, this radical, this Son of God.  The outcast now has a place in the heart of God; living what God called him to do.  Peter in wonder says, "Lord, it is good to be here."

Few would have believed that this poor revolutionary from Nazareth would change mankind, yet he lived into his life.  And he asks us to do the same.  However much easier than it sounds.  We have a tendency to fight against our true calling.   

We often create images of who we think we are instead of living into our true selves.  I know people who have a wonderful capacity to create art, who are truly artists, but they do not trust themselves to live into their creative beauty, into their true lives.  Or the feel that there true calling is silly and put aside the silly dreams and toil as everyday workers secretly yearning for the brush.

Or we do other things like purchase stuff, material objects, we work in unfulfilling jobs, stay in abusive relationships, follow certain cultural expectations all because we believe that is what is expected of us, and our light is diminished. Forgetting that mountaintop, where God is validating our purpose, why we walk this earth.  

Last week Fr. Christopher wrote a beautiful sermon as to why we fill ourselves with stuff and become things we cannot recognize.  He said “it is the treasure that no one can take away from you of realizing that the gifts and resources you have are gifts from God and you can use them to care for people, you can hold them loosely enough to be used in ways that bring glory to God.”  That treasure includes who you are and what God has called you to be.  

I believe that story tellers at Walt Disney had an amazing capacity of describing to both children and adults the capacity to transfigure, to live into who you were called to become.  Think of Pinocchio, Tarzan or Beast in Beauty and the Beast.  One of my favorite is The Lion King, maybe because I remember watching the story with my son.  

The young lion cub named Simba makes a few bad choices that result in tragedy.  He then lets the evil Scar define him so he flees from his community and lives in the shadows far from what he truly is meant to be.  Eventually someone who knows him finds him and asks him to return to his community, which is in peril, and live into his calling.  

While wrestling with a decision about whether or not to accept that challenge, Simba is led to a pond. Poised before the water, Simba watches a reflection of his own image mysteriously transfigured by the presence of his deceased father.  He sees who he his, what he was created for and then understands his purpose in life, he finds the freedom to shed the chains of the past and present behind and to be himself.   He becomes original, unique, he becomes himself.  And we all must do the same.

The transfiguration is not a complicated story.  St. Matthew reminds us that the Transfiguration is a glimpse of glory. At the mountain height we are allowed to see Jesus as he really is and where he is ultimately headed. By implication, we can also see ourselves for who we really are.  

When we view others without expectations, when we allow ourselves the freedom to be completely free, to what God has called us to do, to be God’s children, we find out not only who we are, we find that Christ reveals who he really is in our lives.

We see that in unexpected places.  An infant can only be an infant, no assumptions, no facades.  When we look into the eyes of a child, they look back with trust, amazement and you in turn are filled with awe. Or for those of you that are teachers and that moment when a child gets it, and you know that that child’s life will forever be changed because of you, and you understand why you put up with the pressures and low pay, you understand that God has called you to live into what you were meant to do.   

You are in an intimate moment with the one you love, and realize happiness; you realize that God has you living into your calling.  You wonder where this happiness comes from.  
Or you stop in this journey and finally come to the realization that you need to live the life that God created for you.  That you need to be you, and not a recreation, not a portrait, not an expectation, not an image and  when you do so, there you will find peace, you find a light, living what God has called you to be.  

Look around, when we people live into their calling, it seems that they are bathed in this light of joy.  We began this season of Epiphany with a brilliant light of a star leading three wise men to Christ; it continues this week with Peter, James and John bathed in the brilliant radiance of Jesus on a mountaintop.  And it will continue, in Christ as we walk through lent to the great light of the resurrection on Easter.

Perhaps the story of the transfiguration simply helps us see God revealed in a new and re-creating way. Maybe we can catch a glimpse of how He knows us and how we ought to respond in our knowing of Him.  Maybe it will allow us to see ourselves for who we really are – God beloved, to become who we were meant to be.  

So there is a knowing, when I listen to Kenny speak of his bowling score, when I hear you tell me why you worship at St. Michael, how you fixed the  door at the food pantry, when you gently reach over and grasp the hand of the one who brings you love and joy.  I see a special light, I watch in wonder at you being you and like Peter say “Lord it is good to be here.”