Friday, February 25, 2022

Gospel text for Sunday 27 February 2022


 Luke 9:28-36       Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, "Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah"--not knowing what he said. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!" When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.


Reflection       With a full on war erupting in Ukraine and the balance of global powers hanging by a thread, today we are chilled to the bone and the image of a mountaintop moment in the company of Moses, Elijah and Jesus seems remote, if not irrelevant. But, is it?


Is it not our faith that hidden in the cleft of every brutal breech and war torn wound is the Presence of that which can never be ravished or ruined? Is it not our hope that Jesus’ promise “I am with you always, even to the end of the world,” (Matt 28.20) is trustworthy and true? Do we choose to plant our feet in the sure and certain love that St. Paul proclaims to the Romans as they suffer in their present time? For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God?  (Romans 8.38-39) 


Do we not choose to live by faith, with hope in love?


Only hours after reading the dark and dire news of the Russian invasion of Ukraine on Thursday morning, I met with a woman whom I will call Karen. Eighty year old Karen’s hands were trembling as cold wrapped her from the inside out. Karen had spent the previous four hours trying to recover from a computer hack that invaded her contact list and sent messages to hundreds of family, friends and colleagues requesting assistance in her name. 


After spending a fair amount of time breathing deeply to restore a modicum of peace, peace that is more than the absence of the disruptive invasion by a hacker, peace that is more than the quelling of emotions in the face of an alien incursion and technology overload, peace that exceeds comprehension. Karen sought peace that prevails over evil. Karen breathed into the depth of her wound until tears carried these words from her heart to her lips. “All of these people, all of these people love me. They received the hacker’s message and keep calling and coming and buying gift cards to help me. I had no idea how much I am loved.” Surprised by grace, Karen found love in the depth of a wound inflicted by malevolent hackers.


An evil invasion by Russians or a malicious attack by hackers cannot and will not prevail. This is our faith and this is our hope because we are people who live in love; original, unmitigated abiding love. As people who choose to live by faith, with hope in love we can experience all of life, the good, bad and abhorrent, as sacrament. But to do so we must stay awake. We dare not be weighed down and unconscious if we are to experience every daybreak as well as every dreadful wound as sacrament, a manifest opportunity to experience Divine Presence. In Luke’s text, “Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw (Jesus’) glory and (Moses and Elijah) who stood with him.” The three disciples experienced life as sacrament.


Here is the thing. God is active in our world and in our lives but we must stay awake to experience God’s glory. We dare not allow ourselves to be weighed down by the news of war and threats of global disruption. To experience life as sacrament we must not be distracted by gruesome images or anger mongering words that trip us into fear and the sleep of unconscious reaction. 


Today, every day, we stand on a razor’s edge of choice. Do we choose to capitulate to evil and live in fear? Or do we choose to live by faith with hope in love? Let me suggest that if we choose the latter, that we must do whatever we do deliberately. Rather than muddle through each day slipping from routine to habit to unconscious reaction let us put our heads in our hearts and hold the purest of intentions. Let our intention be to experience all of life as sacrament, to find God in every moment, even and perhaps especially in our wounds and the wounds of the world.


Living our lives with the intention to find God in all things, like Peter, James and John we experience what theologians call a theophany. A theophany is a personal encounter with Divine Presence, nothing more and nothing less than the tears of a woman who had no idea how much she is loved.


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