Second Sunday in Lent (El segundo domingo de Cuaresma)

Marcos 8:31-38

I preached this sermon in the Spanish service; the English translation is below. 

Oremos…

Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestros corazones sean aceptables a tu vista, oh Señor nuestra fuerza y nuestro redentor. Amén.

No es sorprendente si tienes un latigazo espiritual esta semana. Durante los últimos tres domingos, hemos subido a la cima de la montaña de Jesús y sus discípulos Pedro, Santiago y Juan para la transfiguración y luego regresamos al río Jordan para el bautismo de Jesús. Y ahora estamos al final de su ministerio en Galilea.

El hilo común a lo largo de estos eventos es la tentación primero de Pedro, y luego de Jesús, y ahora nuevamente de Pedro para buscar primero, no el reino de Dios, sino la gloria del mundo.

En la transfiguración, Pedro propuso que pudieran quedarse allí en la cima de la cima de Moisés, Elías y Jesús. Después del bautismo de Jesús, Marcos dice que en el desierto, Jesús fue tentado por Satanás. Y ahora, después de escuchar la dura verdad sobre el costo del discipulado, Pedro nuevamente sugiere una manera más cómoda, reprendiendo a Jesús por decirles que el camino de la cruz será de sufrimiento. Aunque Pedro había confesado que Jesús es el Mesías (v.29) solo unos minutos antes, él y los discípulos todavía estaban pensando en el reino y el Mesías en términos del mundo. No entendieron que Cristo el rey era un rey servidor, no imperial, con todas las trampas de los emperadores que ya conocían.

Y cuando Pedro discute con Jesús, puedes escucharlo decir "¡Jesús, di que no es así!" Pero Jesús no vacila. A su vez, reprende severamente a Pedro, diciendo "¡Ponte detrás de mí, Satanás!" (v. 33)

Cuando escuché por primera vez su reprensión, imaginé que Jesús se dirigía a Pedro como si fuera la encarnación de Satanás. A menudo no hablamos sobre la encarnación del diablo o Satanás fuera de los libros o películas, pero esa es la imagen que tenía. Otros dicen que Jesús estaba señalando la tentación que Pedro representaba: la tentación de conformarse al mundo, y "tener [su] mente en las cosas humanas" (v. 33) La reprensión de Pedro era otra versión de la tentación que Jesús había enfrentado en el desierto al comienzo del evangelio de Marcos.

Y hay un segundo significado en sus palabras. Pedro era un discípulo de Jesús. Y un discípulo es un aprendiz o estudiante de su maestro; ellos lo siguen. No deben precipitarse hacia adelante como Pedro a menudo lo hace impulsivamente en los Evangelios. Necesitan "respaldar" literalmente y físicamente al maestro. Por lo menos, esa posición exige una medida de humildad.

Lo que Jesús exige es aún más desafiante; él dice: "Si alguno quiere convertirse en mis seguidores, que se nieguen a sí mismos y tomen su cruz y síganme". (v. 34)

Aunque hay tradiciones religiosas que creen que la autonegaciono el ascetismo es una práctica espiritual necesaria de abstinencia de las cosas que traen satisfacción, no leo las palabras de Cristo de la misma manera.

Otra interpretación de negarnos a nosotros mismos sería negar nuestra propia personalidad, pero recuerdo la advertencia de Cristo en el sermón del monte donde dijo,

Nadie después de encender una lámpara la pone debajo de un cajón, sino sobre el candelero, y asi le da luz a todos en la casa. De la misma manera, deja que tu luz brille ante los demás, para que puedan ver tus buenas obras y dar gloria a tu Padre en el cielo. (Mateo 5: 15-16)

Así que tampoco creo que eso sea lo que El quiere decir al negarnos a nosotros mismos.

Hace unos años, fui parte de un grupo de personas de la iglesia en un retiro, y al lado de las etiquetas con los nombres había un letrero que decía: "Deja tus títulos en la puerta". Todos estábamos allí para aprender unos de otros y de otros mismos. No estábamos allí debido a nuestros títulos o credenciales; estábamos allí porque queríamos profundizar nuestra fe.

A menudo en nuestro mundo moderno, la primera pregunta que hacemos a un nuevo conocido es: "¿A qué te dedicas?" Sé que sería contracultural, pero creo que Jesús estaría feliz si respondiéramos: "Sigo a Jesús".

Creo que esto es lo que Cristo quiere decir cuando nos dice que nos neguemos a nosotros mismos, y que tengamos nuestras mentes en cosas divinas y no en cosas humanas. (v.34-35) Seguir a Jesús significa realinearnos con él y recalibrar nuestras formas de pensar y actuar para que Jesús nos esté guiando en todos los aspectos de nuestras vidas. Significa elegir a Jesús primero. Y es difícil.

Negarme a mí mismo significa que tengo que pensar en el bienestar de los demás, y no solo en mis deseos. Negarme a mí mismo significa que tengo que pensar en cómo hacer las cosas de manera que construyan a la comunidad, y no solo me beneficie yo. Negarme a mí mismo significa derribar las defensas que me ayudan a mantener a los demás a distancia y a invitar a otros a compartir la vida juntos

Uno de mis profesores de predicación, Karoline Lewis, escribió,

Negarse asimismo y tomar tu cruz" nos invita a lo que la cruz también puede significar, no solo la muerte y el sufrimiento, sino que Dios eligiendo las relaciones humanas. La cruz representa el compromiso de Dios con la humanidad. La cruz representa lo que hacemos cuando no estamos en relación con el otro y pensamos solo en nosotros mismos.  Porque ser nosotros mismos es estar seguro de nuestra conexión.[i]

 

Esta comprensión de tomar nuestra cruz y negarnos a nosotros mismos nos reta a recordar que no somos seres solitarios. En el bautismo, somos adoptados en la familia de Dios y nuestra identidad no es solo nuestra. "Estamos conectados con Cristo y con una comunidad de creyentes".[ii] Entonces, esta Cuaresma podemos negarnos a la noción de que no necesitamos comunidad, que no necesitamos relaciones y que no necesitamos un lugar donde pertenecemos y somos amados.

Oremos…

Dios bueno y lleno de gracia, 
Gracias por tu amor que nos mostraste en Jesucristo. Gracias por elegirnos y liberarnos del pecado y la muerte. Fortalécenos por tu Espíritu para negarnos a nosotros mismos y seguir a Jesús, para negarnos a nosotros mismos y confiar en tu abundante amor y misericordia por nosotros. Oramos en el nombre de Jesús.
Amén.

---

[i] Karoline Lewis. “A Different Kind of Denial”, Dear Working Preacher. Luther Seminary. 2015.

[ii] ibid

Mark 8:31-38

It is not surprising if you have some spiritual whiplash this week. Over the past three Sundays we have climbed to the mountaintop with Jesus and his disciples Peter, James, and John for the transfiguration and then gone back to the river Jordan for Jesus’ baptism. And now we’re at the end of his ministry in Galilee.

The common thread throughout these events is the temptation first of Peter, and then of Jesus, and now again of Peter to seek first, not the kingdom of God, but the glory of the world.

At the transfiguration, Peter proposed that they could stay there on the mountaintop with Moses, Elijah and Jesus. After Jesus’ baptism, Mark says that in the wilderness, Jesus was tempted by Satan. And now, after hearing the hard truth about the cost of discipleship, Peter again suggests a more comfortable way, rebuking Jesus for telling them that the way the cross will be one of suffering. Although Peter had confessed that Jesus is the Messiah (v.29) just minutes earlier, he and the disciples were still thinking of the Kingdom and the Messiah in worldly terms. They did not understand that Christ the King was a servant-king, not an imperial one, with all the trappings of the emperors they already knew.

And when Peter argues with Jesus – you can hear him saying “Jesus , say it’s not so!” But Jesus doesn’t falter. He in turn rebukes Peter harshly, saying “Get behind me, Satan!” (v. 33)

When I first heard his rebuke, I imagined Jesus was addressing Peter as if he were the embodiment of Satan. We don’t often talk about the embodiment of the devil or Satan outside books or movies, but that’s the image I had. Others say that Jesus was calling out the temptation that Peter represented – the temptation to conform to the world, and “set [his] mind on human things” (v. 33) Peter’s rebuke was another version of the temptation Jesus had faced in the wilderness at the beginning of Mark’s gospel.

And there is a second meaning to his words. Peter was a disciple of Jesus. And a disciple is an apprentice or student of their master; they follow them. They should not charge ahead as Peter impulsively does so often in the gospels. They need to literally and physically “get behind” the master. At the very least, that position demands a measure of humility.

What Jesus demands is even more challenging; he says, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” (v. 34)

While there are religious traditions that believe that self-denial or asceticism is a necessary spiritual practice of abstinence from things that bring enjoyment, I don’t read Christ’s words in the same way.

Another understanding of denying ourselves would be to deny our very personhood, but I remember Christ’s admonition in the Sermon on the Mount where he said,

No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven. (Matt. 5:15-16)

So I don’t think that’s what he means by denying ourselves either.

A few years ago, I was part of a group of church people on a retreat, and next to the nametags was a sign that said, “Leave your titles at the door.” We were all there to learn with and from each other. We weren’t there because of our titles or credentials; we were there because we wanted to deepen our faith.

Often in our modern world, the first question we ask a new acquaintance is, “What do you do?” I know it would be counter-cultural, but I think Jesus would be pleased if we responded with, “I follow Jesus.”

I think this is what Christ means when he tells us to deny ourselves, and to set our minds on divine things and not on human things. (v.34-35) Following Jesus means realigning ourselves with Him and recalibrating our ways of thinking and acting so that Jesus is leading us in all aspects of our lives. It means choosing Jesus first. And it’s hard.

To deny myself means that I have to think of the wellbeing of others, and not only my desires. To deny myself means that I have to think about how to do things in ways that build community, and not just benefit me. To deny myself means breaking down the defenses that help me keep others at arms-length and invite others into life together.

One of my preaching professors, Karoline Lewis, wrote,

To “deny yourself and take up your cross” invites us into what the cross can also mean -- not just death and suffering, but God choosing human relationships. The cross represents God’s commitment to humanity. The cross represents what we do when we are not in relationship with the other and think only for ourselves. Because to be ourselves is to be certain of our connectedness.[i]

This understanding of taking up our cross and denying ourselves challenges us to remember that we are not solitary beings. In baptism we are adopted into God’s family and our identity is not ours alone. “We are connected to Christ and to a community of believers.”[ii] So this Lent we can deny ourselves the notion that we don’t need community, that we don’t need relationships, and that we don’t need a place where we belong and are loved.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God, 
Thank you for your love shown us in Jesus Christ. Thank you for choosing us and freeing us from sin and death. Strengthen us by your Spirit to deny ourselves and follow Jesus, to deny ourselves and trust in Your abundant love and mercy for us. We pray in Jesus’ name.
Amen.

---

[i] Karoline Lewis. “A Different Kind of Denial”, Dear Working Preacher. Luther Seminary. 2015.

[ii] ibid 

First Sunday in Lent

 Mark 1:9-15

For the preacher it’s always a challenge to preach a well-known text. Because as you are hearing the text, you think you already know the story. And in a year like this one when we heard this text just six weeks ago for the Baptism of our Lord, and we’ve already explored what it means to hear God’s voice speaking, the challenge only grows. So, what is God saying to us this time?

In baptism we see how we are loved by God and by God’s grace, we are set free to live as God’s children. But it isn’t always going to be comfortable.

Often in his ministry Jesus goes off to a deserted place, and we imagine a place of quiet solitude and peace, where he soaks in prayerful silence, seeking comfort and guidance.

What happens here in Mark, after his own baptism isn’t that.

Mark tells us that the Spirit drove Jesus out into the wilderness.(1:12) It could be translated as the Spirit threw Jesus or cast him out. The Spirit’s action wasn’t a gentle, quiet leading; it was forceful and unyielding.

As I read this text, I think we are meant to remember other times when God’s followers were in the wilderness. 

Hagar wandered in the wilderness with her son Ishmael. (Genesis 21:14) Joseph’s brothers threw him into a pit in the wilderness. (Genesis 37:22) Moses was with his flock in the wilderness when he encountered God in the blazing bush (Exodus 3:1-2) The Israelites were in the wilderness after Moses brought them out of Egypt. (Exodus 13:20; Numbers 32:13) And then they were in the wilderness again during the years of exile in Babylon. (Isaiah and Jeremiah)

Throughout the history of our ancestors in faith, “wilderness” has been synonymous with times of testing, training and preparation.

I don’t subscribe to the idea that “God doesn’t give us more than we can handle” but I do believe that God is with us in all that we face. God doesn’t make it easy, or comfortable, but helps us make our way through difficulties.

When Jesus goes into the wilderness, he is separated from everything and everyone he has known, except God. It had to be disruptive and disorienting.

Mark doesn’t give us any of the details about the temptations; we have to go to Luke and Matthew to get those. (Luke 4; Matthew 4) But writing about the temptations, German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer said, “[All of the temptations] are one temptation – to separate Jesus from the Word of God.”[i]

What futility!

Jesus cannot be separated from God’s Word. As John’s prologue tells us:

¹ In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. ² He was in the beginning with God. ³ All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. (John 1:1-3)

So, of course, they fail. Neither the devil, nor the temptations, nor the wilderness and its wild beasts can defeat God.

In the wilderness, Jesus survived through obedience to God’s Word.  And, so do we.

In the wilderness, when life is disrupted and disorienting, and everything else is stripped away, we remember whose we are and live into our identity as God’s children.

In “Go to the Limits of your Longing” which reads as if God is speaking, the Austrian poet Rainer Marie Rilke [ry nr mr ee uh reel kuh] writes, “Don’t let yourself lose me.”[ii]

It would be easy in the wilderness to forget God’s way and look for the easy path, to look for a way out or a shortcut, well-worn by others. But, instead, we return again and again to God’s Word, which challenges and convicts.

Confronted by the Law found there, we must wrestle with our sin, our weakness and our failings. But thanks be to God, that’s not where the story ends. God never leaves us in despair. In God’s Word we experience the Good News of Jesus Christ. (Mark 1:1) and God’s love for us renews us and strengthens us for all that lies ahead. We face temptation and choose Christ anyway. We pray and we choose the way of forgiveness and mercy for ourselves and for others.

The late Catholic priest Edward Hays wrote prayers for pilgrimages and one of the wild places he wrote about is the human heart. Writing about God’s gift of pardon, he said,

I have searched for it in every pocket and hiding place;

I cannot find it, your gift of Self.

I know it is here, buried beneath my pain, somewhere in a back corner of my heart:

but for now it is lost.

 And then he continued,

Remind me ten times and more of all that you have forgiven me – without even waiting for my sorrow, the very instant that I slipped and sinned.

Remind me ten thousand times and more of your endless absolution, not even sorrow required on my part, so broad the bounty of your love.

Yes, I can—I will—forgive as you have forgiven me.[iii]

Hays reminds us that God accompanies us and reminds us of whose we are and what it looks like to embody God’s love. We come through the wilderness changed and transformed.

Oh, yes, I said it,

we come through changed.

How can we not?

When the Spirit drives us into the wilderness, it can’t be for nothing. As one preacher said, “If we wanted to go, the Spirit wouldn’t be needed!”[iv]

So, this Lent as we remember how the Spirit drove Jesus into the wilderness, I wonder where the Spirit is pushing us to go? As a congregation and individually, what are we resisting? And how will we respond?

Let us pray…[v]

Good and Gracious God,

Thank you for your Son’s obedience, even to the cross,

that we would know Your love for us all.

Help us cling to our baptisms,

where we are drowned and reborn by the water and fire of your Spirit.

Sustain us with Your Word and comfort us with Your presence.

Driven by your Spirit, make us unafraid of what lies ahead. Amen.

---

[i] Dietrich Bonhoeffer. Creation and Fall. 105.

[ii] https://onbeing.org/poetry/go-to-the-limits-of-your-longing

[iii] Edward Hays. “Psalm of Pardon”, Prayers for a Planetary Pilgrim. Ave Maria Press. 2008. 227.

[iv] Delmer Chilton and John Fairless, Lectionary Lab Lent Workshop.

[v] Adapted from Stanley Hauerwas, Prayers Plainly Spoken (Wipf & Stock, 2003), p.21.

Ash Wednesday

 Psalm 51

In his book Tales of the Hasidim, the late Jewish philosopher Martin Buber recalls the writings of Rabbi Simcha Bunin, a Polish Hasidic leader of the nineteenth century. Bunim wrote,

Everyone must have two pockets, with a note in each pocket, so that [you] can reach into one or the other, depending on the need. When feeling lowly and depressed, discouraged or disconsolate, one should reach into the right pocket, and there, find the words:

Bish'vili nivra ha'olam (bish-vil-lee nee-vRAH ha-oh-l’arm)

“The world was created for me” (BT Sanhedrin 37B).

 

But when feeling high and mighty one should reach into the left pocket and find the words:

“V'anokhi afar v'efer” (vah-no-khee a-far a-fair)

“I am but dust and ashes”(Gen. 18:27). [i]

"Today is the day when Christians around the world dig into the left pocket to see what realizations, and shadowed blessings, may be found there."[ii]

Today is the day when we follow the prophet Joel's instruction:

Return to the Lord, your God, for he is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing." (2:13)

At the very least, today is a day to begin to reorient ourselves toward God and to begin to draw near to God, as we enter into Lent.

Lent is a season of self-examination and repentance, and, before we say, "We follow Jesus. For what do we need to repent?" let's dig a little deeper into that pocket and examine what we find, as we reflect on the words of Psalm 51.

Most scholars agree that the psalms were not written by David and the superscriptions - the words that tell us about the psalm’s purpose or who its author was - were added much later by editors. Those editors chose to associate particular psalms with events in David's life, and while sometimes connections between sacred texts and narratives can be vague or tenuous, Psalm 51 certainly provides the response we would hope the king would have had after Nathan confronted him about his adultery with Bathsheba and his complicity in Uriah's murder.

One of the patterns we see in the psalms is that say what we already know to be true about God, and then they tell God what’s wrong and then they ask God to respond.

Here, the psalmist begins his plea to God by acknowledging God's steadfast love and abundant mercy.

And then he confesses his sin, and importantly, he doesn't confess one particular action, but he confesses his condition of being a sinner, saying, “I was born guilty, a sinner when my mother conceived me." (51:5) That language makes us uncomfortable because it implicates even the youngest children among us. And it exposes us when we like to think we can get away with “ignoring or hiding the unpolished parts of our lives.”[iii]

But, as Lutherans we believe that we are "wholly saint and wholly sinner" at the same time, from the day we are born.

Confession was never intended to be torturous or punishing. Instead, in confession, we acknowledge our sin before the God who has known us since we were knitted together in our mothers’ wombs, (Psalms 139:13-14) because we have confidence in God's immeasurable grace and forgiveness.

The psalmist recognizes this too, addressing God and saying, "You desire truth in the inward being..." (v. 6) God doesn't want us to play games; God wants our honest reflection and repentance.

The psalm continues, asking God for God to act in accordance with who we know God to be.

Just as at the font we mark ourselves with the sign of the cross and remember that in our baptism we were adopted into the family of God, today we are marked with crosses of ash, to remember that God washes our dusty selves and sanctifies us. (51:7b)

Our plea "Create in me a clean heart, O God, and put a new and right spirit within me." (51:10) recognizes God's power in our lives to forgive us and create new life for us. Creating us anew, God uses the old stuff, and we see how what we've experienced and who we have been remain a part of who we are today, redeemed by God's love and mercy.

Redemption and reconciliation are possible only because of God’s love for us.

This Lenten season, as a congregation we are seeking to live well in Christ and to practice forgiveness with all our heart, soul, strength and mind, exploring what it means to have the steadfast assurance that God’s mercies are new every morning,(Lamentations 3:23) and that forgiveness is ours to give away.

Just as we come today to confess our sin, receive forgiveness and remember God’s grace because we love God, we want to pursue forgiveness of ourselves and others, not because we are motivated by obligation or fear, but by love.[iv]

And as we recognize the ways that Christ’s love transforms us, I wonder if we can name the old things that are being made new and see how parts of our stories find new purpose when we see them as part of our story with Christ.

Let us pray…

God of life and death, of forgiveness and blessing,
Have mercy on us, according to your steadfast love
according to your abundant mercy, blot out our transgressions.
Wash us thoroughly from our iniquity and cleanse us from our sin.
Help us return to you to repent and to release.
Crack open our tired, aching, chained up hearts to Your mystery and healing hope.
We know we are dust, and to dust we shall return,
and in the midst of all of that, we return to You.
Come, O God, make haste to save us.
Amen.[v]

---

[i] “Two Pockets," Book Two: The Later Masters [New York: Schocken Books, 1947], pp. 249-250).

[ii] Sundays and Seasons Resources for Ash Wednesday.

[iii] Eric Mathis. Commentary on Psalm 51:1-17. Workingpreacher.org.

[iv] “The ‘Why’ of Love and Forgiveness’, Practicing Forgiveness with All Your Heart, Soul, Strength and Mind.

[v] adapted from Psalm 51, RevGalBlogPals Wednesday praye

Transfiguration Sunday (El Domingo de Transfiguración)

Marcos 9:2-9

I preached this sermon in the Spanish service; the English translation is below. 

Oremos…

Que las palabras de mi boca y las meditaciones de nuestros corazones sean aceptables a tu vista, oh Señor nuestra fuerza y nuestro redentor. Amén.

La semana pasada, los padres publicaron fotos de niños escolares que marcaban cien días de escuela. En una foto, las niñas se vestían como si tuvieran cien años, usando  andadores, pelucas grises y lentes muy grandes. En otra imagen, un estudiante llevaba una camisa pintada brillantemente con el número cien.. Hubo fiestas escolares con globos. El año escolar tradicional tiene ciento ochenta y cinco días, por lo que estos estudiantes están apenas pasando la mitad del año escolar. Fue un momento crucial. 

No tenemos disfraces ni globos para conmemorar el domingo de la transfiguración, pero también es un momento crucial. 

Está en la mitad del evangelio de Marcos, y mientras que en los primeros ocho capítulos de este evangelio, Jesús y los discípulos han viajado por toda Galilea, yendo inmediatamente de un lugar a otro, ahora se regresaran hacia Jerusalén y el tiempo avanzara despacio.

Hoy, Marcos nos dice que Jesús, Pedro, Santiago y Juan dejaron a los demás y han subido a una montaña. Y allí, apartados de las multitudes, son testigos de que Jesús es transfigurado, y Marcos nos dice: "Estaban aterrorizados". (9: 6)

Se han escrito muchos sermones para tratar de explicar el significado de esta escena, o para determinar por qué Pedro, Santiago y Juan fueron los que acompañaron a Jesús, o por qué aparecieron Elias y Moisés y no otros personajes bíblicos como Abraham o Joseph, pero no creo que descubrir las respuestas a esas preguntas sea lo importante de este texto, o por qué escuchamos esta historia de uno de los Evangelios, cada año antes del Miércoles de Ceniza. 

Estoy de acuerdo con el teólogo suizo Karl Barth, quien dijo que lo único que sabemos sobre Dios es que Dios es incomprensible. Solo podemos conocer a Dios cuando Dios viene a nosotros en un acto de revelacion. Tenemos que aceptar que Dios está envuelto en misterio y milagro.

Donde quiero concentrarme primero es, en cómo Dios llama la atención de los discípulos. Dejan atrás a las multitudes. Siguen a Jesús lejos de toda el ruido y distracción. Las montañas son a menudo los lugares de la Biblia donde Dios se acerca o donde escuchamos a Dios hablar. Son los lugares donde la distancia entre la Tierra y los cielos se vuelve mas corta.

 

Entonces, mientras miramos hacia la Cuaresma, me pregunto,

¿Cómo llamara Dios su atención?

¿A dónde puedes ir para que puedas concentrarte en Dios sin distracción?

¿Qué personas, o actividades, podrías dejar atrás por una temporada?

Si estamos de acuerdo con Barth, solo podemos conocer a Dios cuando Dios viene a nosotros en un acto de revelación, y no experimentaremos la revelación a menos que estemos prestando atención.

En segundo lugar, quiero centrarme en Dios hablando. La voz de la nube dice a los discípulos: “Este es mi hijo amado; ¡a El oid!" (9: 7)

Tenemos muchas voces en competencia en nuestras vidas.  

Tenemos responsabilidades con la familia, en nuestro trabajo o escuela, con las otras personas con las que compartimos la vida. Y esas son las voces familiares. Agregue  los comerciales de televisión, anuncios en plataformas de transmisión, carteles publicitarios y  basura de correo electrónico, y hay mucha competencia por nuestro tiempo y atención. Esta historia de Dios que habla nos ayuda a priorizar la voz de Dios en nuestras vidas. 

A medida que se acerca la Cuaresma, me pregunto: “¿Qué necesitamos escuchar? ¿Qué nos está siendo revelado? Esta temporada me recuerda que la Palabra de Dios siempre es una palabra viva, nunca terminada o estática. Esta temporada, escuchemos bien para que conozcamos a Dios y sepamos quién Dios nos llama a cada uno de nosotros a ser.

Y finalmente, me pregunto: "¿Cómo responderemos?"

La primera reacción de Pedro es de miedo, pero inmediatamente después de eso, quiere quedarse allí en la montaña, disfrutando de la gloria de la transfiguración. 

Pero, y esto fue nuevo para mí, ¿has notado lo que dice Jesús, cada vez que otros quieren felicitarlo y elevarlo?

Escuchamos su respuesta a los demonios que expulsa y al hombre sordo que le devuelve el oir, y nuevamente aquí en la montaña; ordenan a aquellos que han sido testigos de estos eventos extraordinarios que no le cuenten a nadie hasta después de la resurrección. (9:9)

Porque la historia de la cruz no es una historia de gloria. Es la historia del amor de Dios por todo el mundo, que no perezcamos sino para que tengamos vida eterna, pero el único camino a través de esa historia es el camino de la cruz, que exige la muerte. Muerte al pecado y muerte a uno mismo, para que podamos vivir solo para Dios.

Oremos…

Santo Dios,
Gracias por mostrarnos su gloria y por nunca dejarnos.
No nos dejes aferrarnos a los momentos sagrados,
pero a escuchar a tu hijo
y a seguirlo desde los lugares de revelación hasta los lugares de misión.
Oramos en el nombre de Jesús. 
Amén.

Mark 9:2-9

This past week, parents posted pictures of schoolchildren marking one hundred days of school. In one picture the little girls were dressed as one hundred-year old women, complete with walkers, grey wigs and oversized eyeglasses. In another picture, a student wore a shirt brightly painted with the number one hundred on it. There were school parties with balloons. The traditional school year has one hundred eighty-five days, so these students are just past its halfway point. It was a turning point.

We don’t have costumes or balloons to mark Transfiguration Sunday, but it is also a turning point. It is halfway through Mark’s gospel, and while in the first eight chapters of this gospel, Jesus and the disciples have traveled throughout Galilee, going immediately from one place to another, now they will turn toward Jerusalem and time will slow down.

Today, Mark tells us that Jesus, Peter, James and John left the others and they have climbed a mountain. And there, apart from the crowds, they witness Jesus being transfigured, and Mark tells us, “they were terrified.” (9:6)

A lot of sermons have been written to try to explain the meaning of this scene, or to determine why Peter, James and John were the ones who accompanied Jesus, or why Elijah and Moses appeared and not other biblical characters like Abraham or Joseph, but I don’t think figuring out the answers to those questions are what’s important about this text, or why we hear this story from one of the gospels, every year before Ash Wednesday.

I agree with the Swiss theologian Karl Barth who said that the only thing we know about God is that God is incomprehensible. We can only know God when God comes to us in an act of revelation. We have to accept that God is encompassed in mystery and miracle.

Where I want to focus first is how God gets the attention of the disciples. They leave the crowds behind. They follow Jesus away from all the chatter and distraction. Mountains are often the places in the Bible where God draws near or where we hear God speak. They are the places where the distance between earth and the heavens becomes thin.

So, as we look ahead to Lent, I wonder,

How will God get your attention?

Where can you go so that you can focus on God without distraction?

Which people, or activities, might you leave behind for a season?

If we agree with Barth, we can only know God when God comes to us in an act of revelation, and we won’t experience revelation unless we are paying attention.

Second, I want to focus on God speaking. The voice from the cloud says to the disciples, “This is my Son, the beloved; listen to him!” (9:7)

We have a lot of competing voices in our lives. We have responsibilities to family, to our work or school, to the other people with whom we share life. And those are the familiar voices. Add to that television commercials, advertisements on streaming platforms, billboards and junk mail, and there is a lot of competition for our time and attention. This story of God speaking helps us prioritize God’s voice in our lives.

As Lent approaches, I wonder, “What do we need to hear? What is being revealed to us?” I am reminded that God’s Word is always a Living Word, never finished or static. This season, let’s listen well that we may know God and know who God is calling each of us to be.

And finally, I wonder, “How we will respond?” Peter’s first reaction is one of fear, but immediately after that, he wants to stay right there on the mountain, basking in the glory of the transfiguration. But, and this was new to me, have you noticed what Jesus says, every time others want to congratulate and elevate him? We hear his response to the demons he casts out and to the deaf man whose hearing he restores, and again here on the mountain; he orders those who have been witnesses to these extraordinary events not to tell anyone until after the resurrection. (9:9)

Because the story of the cross isn’t a story of glory. It is the story of the love of God for the whole world, that we may not perish but have eternal life, but the only way through that story is the way of the cross, which demands death. Death to sin and death to self, that we may live for God alone.

Let us pray…

Holy God,
Thank you for showing us Your glory and for never leaving us.
Do not let us cling to the holy moments,
but listen to Your Son
and follow him
from the places of revelation to the places of mission.
We pray in Jesus’ name.
Amen.

Epiphany 5B

Mark 1:29-39

Today’s gospel picks up immediately where we left off last week, with the disciples and Jesus leaving the synagogue in Galilee and traveling to the house of Simon and Andrew.

And here we witness another healing. In the synagogue Jesus had ordered the unclean spirit out of a man, and here, he meets Simon’s mother-in-law, who has been in bed with a fever.

To our hearing, it may sound dramatic to say that the woman was at the brink of death, but two thousand years ago there were no antibiotics or medicines available to bring down fever. There was really no understanding of what caused illnesses. So, we can appreciate how worrisome her illness was, with an unknown cause and no way to bring relief. We can imagine the joy that her family and friends experienced when they saw Jesus take her by the hand and lift her up and the fever left her. And we can understand the gratitude she herself felt at being restored to wholeness.

The healings show us how God is with us in our suffering, and they demonstrate the power of God to set things right. But there is more to this story than the physical healing that takes place.

When she is healed, the woman begins to serve those around her. (1:31) The word here is the same word that we hear earlier in this chapter, when Jesus is in the wilderness and Mark says, “the angels waited on him.” (1:13) Although some traditions have used this story to “put women in their place”, διακονέω (dee-ah-koh-nay-oh) is the beginning of the diaconate, the ministry of service to which we ordain mean and women as deacons today.

Her healing allowed this woman – who like so many women in Scripture is unnamed apart from her relationship to Simon – to fully be herself, to use her gifts in service to God. It happens that her gifts were those of welcome and hospitality, in caring for the needs of her guests. But she just as easily could have been like Lydia who financially supported the disciples’ gospel ministry in Acts 16 (Acts 16:14) or like the prophet Anna who worshiped at the temple in Jerusalem with fasting and prayer night and day and whom we hear about when Jesus is presented at the temple as a boy in Luke 2. (Luke 2:37)

If you have ever been at the brink, at your wits’ end, at the edge of despair, or uncertainty, you share this woman’s story. It is the story of God breaking into our lives to call us to being fully who God created us to be.

These Epiphany stories remind us again and again that all things are under God’s authority, and we can be confident that God is with us in the messiness of our lives and the world we live in.

And we can be just as certain that God has created us and calls us to be witnesses of the love and grace shown us in Christ Jesus in this place.

I share this woman’s story. When I had been working in nonprofit fundraising for almost ten years, I was working with a founding executive director who wanted me to follow in his footsteps. I went to a workshop and as we talked about the stories that were most important to us, I realized that as much as I appreciated the work we were doing, that was not the most important story to me, and it wasn’t the story I wanted to spend the next twenty-five years telling. That realization sent me into a tailspin. I didn’t know what to do next. But I began talking with my husband Jamie, and with my pastor, and later that year, after many more conversations, I entered the candidacy process in the North Carolina Synod to become an ordained pastor.

It was one step toward becoming the person God created me to be.

Growing up, we often think that our progression through life is a straight line, right? Childhood, adolescence, young adulthood, adulthood. Primary school, middle school, high school, and then maybe college, or maybe not. But I think we have enough experience in this room to know that far more often, life resembles a roller coaster with more than one ‘loop de loop’ along the way.

And when we are hanging on for dear life, faith helps us know we are not alone, and the journey is not in vain. God is there, with us, helping us become fully who God created us to be.

When we catch our breath or regain our balance, we can ask, “Who is God calling me to be?” and “What is God calling me to do?” and listen for God’s answers.

Faith gives us the freedom to respond to God with our whole selves and serve with the gifts we’ve been given.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

We give you thanks for Your love and grace shown us through Jesus all through this Epiphany season.

Thank you for saving us and healing us that we may be your witnesses in the world.

Help us respond to your presence in our lives and fully become the person that you created us to be, so that others may know You.

We pray in the name of your Son Jesus.

Amen.