Saint Andrew’s Episcopal Church

.

Rev. Daniel E. Somers, Deacon

Saint Andrew’s Church

Sermon

March 10, 2019

The Devil Made Us Do It?

            In today’s gospel, we have Jesus venturing into the arid wilderness, only to be tempted – nay, taunted – by the devil, evil itself.

            In the season of Lent, we are invited to embrace an intentional way of life.  For the forty days of Lent (excluding Sundays), we follow the example of Jesus.  He was led by the Holy Spirit into the desert, the wasteland, where for forty days he and the devil had an extended conversation. 

The Spirit, however, does not “just drop him off” with a wave and best wishes to fend for himself.  No, the Spirit continues to abide with Jesus.  It stays as he continues to grow stronger through his trials.

Jesus like us must be tested.  Only then can we learn dependence on God, who graciously provides for all of our needs in all of life’s seasons, not just Lent.

There are close parallels with today’s Old Testament reading from Deuteronomy that apply to Lent and our own situation in the present.  The Lord puts Israel in humbling circumstances and tests them.  Their first danger is complacency – thinking that they no longer need God.  Bad mistake. 

Even today, prosperity, provision and a secular worldview tempt us.  These ignore the need for a covenant relationship with God; they are far greater temptation to spiritual forgetfulness than hardship.  Jesus’ response is faithfulness.  What is and has been ours?

As you will recall in Genesis at chapter 1, verse 26, humankind was given dominion over the Earth: “Then God said, ‘Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the wild animals of the earth ….  Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it ….  And it was so.’ ”

Such was the devil’s offer to Jesus, showing to him all the world at his feet: “To you, I will give their glory and all this authority.”  Jesus’ response?  “It is written, ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.’ ”   In short, faithfulness in the face of the ultimate temptation.

Well, that world has come to pass.  We have exercised dominion.  The geologic era in which we live is now termed “anthropocene” – one in which earth is dominated by human intervention.  That dominion has created our present prosperity, but in overpowering nature, we are provoking it and inviting our own destruction.  The planet in the words of one author is an “angry beast”, being turned into a war machine.  Every day, we arm it more.

David Wallace-Wells, writing in his recent book, The Uninhabitable Earth, warns of collapsing ice sheets, water scarcity, an equatorial band too hot to livable, and extreme heat waves elsewhere that will burn longer and kill more from hyperthermia, with just two degrees of median warming.  Human civilizations tend to last no more than several thousand years.  One that is based on the industrial revolution powered by fossil fuels, however, is likely to be measured in several hundred years.

Of the five or six mass extinctions to date that have preceded us, only one was the result of an asteroid strike.  The rest, as is the one currently unfolding, were brought about by climate change.  So, what are the eight Horsemen of our Apocalypse – of our annihilation?  Hypothermia, starvation, epidemics, suffocation, endless war, poisoned oceans, economic collapse. We, too, face a future like that of Venus.  It used to have ample supplies of life-supporting water, but rampant climate change transformed it into a vast arid and uninhabitable sphere enveloped in unbreathable gas.  Mars too may have undergone a similar fate.

Whether one believes that humankind has caused the unfolding climate apocalypse or is “merely” aiding and abetting it, is largely irrelevant.  The trends are alarming, ones that our grandchildren and great-grandchildren will have to confront.  The evidence is irrefutable: glaciers are retreating, ice sheets are disappearing, the arctic permafrost is melting, releasing untold tons of methane into the atmosphere.

At Lent, we are always asked, what are we going to give up?  It shouldn’t be about swearing off chocolate or cursing less at our fellow New Jersey drivers.  No, it should be about undergoing a fundamental attitude adjustment.  The allure, the temptation of the secular world with its promise of dominion, glory, comfort and unending prosperity is an illusion, one fostered by the great tempter.  Jesus resisted.  He remained faithful, recognizing the true foundation of life – God.  We should, and need to, emulate his example.

The season of Lent is an ideal time to introduce and reinforce in those seeking a closer relationship with God the merit of doing so.  It is a time for faith formation.  While those in our congregation choosing to be confirmed, received or to reaffirm their baptismal vows have been doing so since September, this is the time to encourage them now that they are in the homestretch.  The Church has a special liturgy for them, which we celebrate together momentarily.

Please give Curtis, Daniel, Gwyn, Laura, Martin, Scott, Valerie and Walter as they express their desire to embrace God’s grace.  The Lenten struggle is to be intentional and receptive to the grace of God.  In so doing, we will encounter a faithful God who leads us not only into the wilderness, but also through and out of it.

May it be so with you and yours.

Amen.  

 So why was Elijah at the Transfiguration?  Theologians speculate that Elijah is present to hand over the responsibility of the Prophets to Jesus.  As the woman by the well had said to Jesus in John 4, "I perceive thou art a prophet."

Moses likewise came to transfer responsibility for the Law to the divinely announced Son of God.  God is transforming Jesus – his face shone and his clothes became dazzlingly white --  right before the very eyes of the disciples, into the rightful heir of both Moses and Elijah; the true Messiah is revealed.

The moment of Elijah appearing with Moses thus has been explained as these two figures representing the Prophets and the Law – the major parts of the Hebrew Scriptures.There are a number of parallels that link these two figures – both mysteriously taken by God rather than dying regular deaths, both revolutionary leaders of Israel in times of crisis, both had mountain theophanies at Horeb/Sinai, and both were privileged to have direct dialogue with God.

Like so many stories in the Bible, the epic of Moses leading the people of Israel through the desert is full of twists and turns, successes and failures.  The people of Israel tended to be their own worst enemy – like we are at times – setting up unnecessary obstacles for themselves and allowing themselves to be distracted by lesser gods.

The key message of this passage is about the status of Jesus. He is not comparable to Moses and Elijah — two of the most significant figures in Jewish memory — he is superior to them, as he alone is God’s beloved son.

The source for divine instruction is no longer to be found in the Law or Prophets but in the man mostly closely connected to the Father – God’s son Jesus.

In the climax of the scene, Jesus is called by God, who confirms his identity as the Son of God. “This is my Son the Beloved; listen to him!” This awesome – and for the gathered disciples, terrifying – experience is a turning point for Jesus as well as his disciples. Jesus, reminded of his unity with God, turns toward the inevitable end of his human story. The Transfiguration is a bridge between Jesus’ public ministry as a traveling teacher and healer in Galilee, and the road to his passion, death and resurrection in Jerusalem. Transfiguration Sunday is a bridge from Epiphany, when we celebrate the miracles and works of Jesus’ life, to Lent, when we focus on Jesus’ journey to the cross.

The Transfiguration is a miracle, a revelation of Christ’s glory, a glimpse behind the veil between heaven and earth.

For the last several weeks, during this season following the Epiphany – remember it?  think back to early January when the wise men found and venerated the infant – we have journeyed alongside those who first came to the realization that Jesus might be the Messiah for whom they have longed.

They watched as heaven opened and heard a voice proclaiming, “This is my Son,” standing on the banks of the River Jordan.  They tasted the water that had become “good wine” at a wedding in Cana.  They listened as he taught in a synagogue and heard him profess that in him, that day, the scripture had been fulfilled.  They watched – or even possibly participated in the angry crowd that drove him to the cliff, but could not destroy him.  They pressed in on him to hear him teach.  They obeyed him when he told them, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.”  They witnessed signs and believed.  They heard him and felt hope as he declared, “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God.”  They wrestled as he taught them to love their enemies and to “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”

These experiences reverberated throughout both the ancient Jewish and Christian communities.  Over a thousand years after Moses’ encounter with God/Yahweh, the Apostle Paul wrote to the church in Corinth and compared the transformation of Moses on Mount Sinai to the conversion of one's mind when one comes to faith in God through Christ – savor the phrase: come to faith in God through Christ.  Paul writes, “All of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in the mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit.”  Paul was speaking from first-hand experience, having encountered the glory of the risen Lord on that road to Damascus.

But wait, there’s more, so much more to today’s gospel.  Too often it is glossed over if not ignored entirely.  Let’s consider the scene again.

On the mountaintop, Jesus erupts in sudden light.  As his sleepy disciples cower in the shadows, two figures appear out of time and space.  In solemn tones, the holy trio speaks of Jerusalem, departure and accomplishment.  The disciples babble in response:  “Let's erect tents!  Let's stay here always!  This is good!”  A cloud descends, thick and impenetrable.  As it envelops the disciples, they fall to their faces, anticipating death.  But a voice addresses them, tender and gentle.  The voice hums with delight, and the disciples, a little braver now, glance up.  They gaze at Jesus – the Shining One – and a father’s pure joy sings with the stars:  “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him.”

In the valley below, a boy writhes in the dust.  He shrieks and drools; his eyes – wide open and feral –see nothing but darkness.  Around him a crowd gathers and swells, eager for spectacle.  People at their worst.  Scribes jeer, and Jesus' disciples (the remaining nine) wring their hands in embarrassment.  The devil is winning.  “Frauds!” someone yells into the night.  “Where's your Master?”  “Why has he left you?”  “We don't know,” mutter the disciples helplessly, gesturing vaguely at the mountain.   Fear wars with exhaustion as they watch the boy claw at his own face.  A voice – strangled, singular – rends the night.  “This is my son!” a man cries out as he pushes through the crowd to gather the convulsing boy in his arms.  Everyone stares as the father cradles the child against his chest.  “Please,” he sobs to the stars.  “Please.  This is my beloved son.  Listen to him.”

Pain and agony in the valley.  Glory on the mountaintop.  One father praising and glorifying his son.  Another father cradling his son in abject terror.  The parallels are striking.  The scenes are juxtaposed.  What a contrast!

All three of the Synoptic Gospels feature the Transfiguration, underscoring its importance to the early church, and all three end their accounts with the narrative of the demon-possessed boy whom the disciples cannot heal.  It's an odd pairing, but one that makes perfect sense.

Weighty stuff, but one seldom hears the tormented boy's story mentioned in this theologizing.  No, you can't stay in spiritual ecstacy land.  That's not the divine plan.  The world below needs you.  A father and son suffered in the valley even as the heavens broke open on the mountaintop.  Some people really needed Jesus that night, but had to experience the ache and agony of his absence while a few basked in his glory.

Yes, Jesus came down from the mountain.  Yes, he healed the desperately ill boy.  But let's not forget the suffering and fear that preceded.  Let's not flatten the story to give us a Hollywood ending.  The suffering was real and deserves honest witness.  After all, the cry of the human father, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief!” is a most authentic and powerful description of the Christian life.  That testimony was not forged on top of a mountain.  Rather, it was forged in the valley of his son's pain.  Both his voice and that of God need to be heard as we make our way into Lent. 

This is the real lesson, the real import of Transfiguration Sunday.  Yes, we have reason to believe in God through Jesus.  But importantly, we who are the hands of Jesus here on Earth have a task to do.  There is pain in the valley.  The devil is at work.  Let’s see what we as people of God can do to assist Jesus in fulfilling his ministry here.

My closing words are from the collect of the Transfiguration found at page 243 of your Book of Common Prayer.  As we embark on our Lenten journey, let us pray:

 O God, who on the holy mount revealed to chosen witnesses your well-beloved Son, wonderfully transfigured, in raiment white and glistening; Mercifully grant that we, being delivered from the disquietude of this world, may by faith behold the King in his beauty; who with you, O Father, and you, Holy Spirit, lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever.

Amen.