The Last Sunday after the Epiphany
1 Kings, 19:9-18
2 Peter, 1:16-21
Mark, 9:2-9
+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
The Roman Catholic Church and millions of other Christians hold S. Thomas Aquinas to be the greatest theologian. We generally see him as a bulwark of orthodoxy, the gold standard of theological and philosophical reflection, a reliable guide of right thinking and holiness. We have forgotten that his teachings were highly controversial in his day; his ideas were daring and bold. This dangerous, challenging saint endured sharp attacks from what we'd call ‘traditional' or ‘conservative' theologians and from ecclesiastical poohbahs like the Archbishops of Paris and Canterbury. Some tried to silence him. His scholarly career came to an abrupt end, but not on account of meddling ecclesiastical authorities.
While at worship on 6 December 1273, saying his daily mass, Thomas had a mysterious experience. We don't know what happened, but he never returned to reading and writing and engaging in the controversies of his day. He insisted that he could write no more. Arguably, other than Jesus himself and S. Paul and perhaps a few of the other first century Christians, no one has been so influential in shaping theology. But after this traumatic epiphany at mass, Thomas explained, "Everything I have written seems like straw by comparison with what I have seen and what has been revealed to me." 1
In this strange experience, only months before the end of his life, Thomas had been transformed; his conversion deepened; his life renewed. Throughout our lives, God comes to us, and if we allow him, he changes us. Worship is one of the most common places where we experience God. Our worship is one of the many reasons I love this parish. In our worship, each of us experiences God. We have fleeting, elusive glimpses of the eternal – of truth, goodness, and beauty. We know God's splendour here and perceive his presence. It's a great gift to have such an experience of his glory. As it did for Thomas, it should enlarge our perspective. We should become more aware of our perversity that makes Christianity narrow and petty. Authentic experience of the divine, authentic worship, reminds us that God is above and beyond human controversies.
Every year we have our parish's annual meeting on the day we focus on the Transfiguration of Jesus. It is so fitting for us. Jesus takes his friends up to the mountain top, and his friends experience God's astonishing presence. To some extent, that's what each of us feels here on Sundays: going to the mountain top with Jesus. And like S. Peter, we say, "Lord, it is good for us to be here." But also like S. Peter, we can try to cling too tightly to it. We want to build tabernacles - tents - on the mountain top, to freeze time, to stop things from changing.
Jesus will have none of that. He doesn't limit himself to a tabernacle. Jesus gives his friends a glimpse of his glory, and then he marches down the mountain, back into the world. In the scenes immediately following today's gospel, Jesus heals; he urges his disciples to pray; he preaches that true greatness and power comes from being last, being servant of all. So we have the glory of the mountain top followed immediately by ministering to the need of the world. Jesus connects worship with service. Following Jesus, being his disciple, begins in worship, begins on the mountain top, and that worship becomes real, authentic, in our service to the world.
The hope of Christianity, the work of the Church, is the restoration and perfection of God's image in us. In our own private prayers, we plead with God to change us, to help us see his glory and to reflect it in the world. We come to Church, become part of parish family, so that we can change and grow. For most, if not all of us, our deepest influences have been our families. Healthy families nurture growth – not only for children, but perhaps even more so for adults! One of the many shocks of becoming a parent for me was the realization of how much growth and change I needed (and continue to need) to be a responsible parent.
God calls everyone of us to different vocations, different responsibilities, and for us to respond these vocations in a holy way, we have to be always learning and maturing. No matter where we are in life, we should be asking God to improve our character, to give us growth. I think of one hugely successful, long-serving CEO who said, "I never stopped trying to become qualified for the job." 2 That humility, that lack of pretense, that eagerness for learning, that persistence, should be our attitude about life, trying to grow into our destiny to be children of God. We can never be satisfied with being satisfied – that corrupts our souls and our life together.
In the early nineteenth century, educated Westerners thought that there were two ancient languages, Hebrew and Greek, and that Hebrew was probably the original language from which all other languages arose. That, of course, is utter nonsense. Our understanding has changed and expanded. We have learned of numerous other ancient languages – some even more ancient: Egyptian, Babylonian, Assyrian, Hittite, Phoenician, and more. According to one scholar, "The decipherment of ... those languages is one of the truly great stories of human intellectual history. . . . [It] has changed our image of the world and our place in it at least as much . . . as the invention of nuclear fission or the possibility of space travel." 3
History shows us the importance of learning and growing and changing. It should mark our individual lives and our corporate life. When "we've never done it that way before" is a prevailing attitude, then there's stagnation and death. The standard here is not what's happened in the past. The standard is helping God change lives – our lives and the lives outside our doors. The standard is trusting God and sharing his love and mercy.
More and more, we are focusing on the things that really matter. When we experience God's glory every Sunday, we see that so much of the controversies of the Church and of the world are but straw. When we experience God's glory every Sunday, we march with Jesus back into the world where we authenticate our worship by serving other people. And we've seen that happening here.
In the last year, we've initiated exciting new ministries. We have parishioners now taking the Blessed Sacrament to people who can't get to church. We have prepared a superb new formation program for children – the Catechesis of the Good Shepherd, and we're seeking more and more ways for children to participate in worship. We have first-rate classes on the classics of Christian literature. We have a ministry to help us identify and use our spiritual gifts. All these are new in the last year.
In the last year, we've also had new ministries reaching out to those beyond our doors. We've offered the Alpha Course to introduce Christianity to the unchurched. We've had an outdoor procession to support and raise awareness of the needs of homeless women in our neighborhood. We've had Blood Drives with the Red Cross.
In the last year we made new contacts in our community, and that must continue and grow in the coming year. We can't be more concerned with our own comfort, than with the needs and comfort of people on the other side of our doors. If this parish didn't exist, the only sad people should not be us. More and more, our focus has to be outward – caring for those in need, reaching the lost and unchurched, taking the glory we experience here out into the world.
Our goal is to make a bigger and bigger difference in our community. Declining churches ask: "What' the church doing for me?" They're inwardly focused. Healthy, growing churches ask: "What's the church doing for others?" Even more to the point, in healthy churches individual Christians ask, "What can I do to help the church reach and care for others? What can I do to make those outside our doors comfortable and welcome here?" Jesus was always engaged and relevant to his community, and we need never lose sight of that.
As a community, we are growing spiritually, becoming healthier all of the time, but being content with the status quo is not the mark of a Christian community. It leads to caring only for those inside of the Church. It means that fewer have changed lives. Transforming lives – Transfiguration – is why a parish exists. A good spiritual exercise for this Lent: pray about how God has changed you, how he's cared for you, how he's helped you grow. Find the shining glory in your life. Be thankful for it. Share it.
I love this parish. I got an email this week from someone I'd not been in touch with for three years or so. He thought that I'd probably have been transferred to another parish by now. "No way," I replied. "We don't work that way in the Episcopal Church, and I love it here more than ever."
I praise God that I've got another 32 years before I have to retire. I also expect that in the next 32 years the Episcopal Church will overcome its agism and rescind its mandatory retirement age! I have never been more bullish about our parish: about our tremendous opportunities; about our deep, inspiring worship; about our transformation – our Transfiguration; about Christ changing lives here; and most of all, about my love and gratitude for everyone here.
In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
1. The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian
Church, Third Edition, OUP (1997), p. 1615.
2. Darwin Smith, CEO of Kimberly-Clark (1971-91), in
Jim Collins, Good to Great, HarperCollins (2001), p. 20.
3. Jasper Griffin, ‘The True Epic Vision,' The New York Review of Books, March 9, 2006, p. 25.
© 2006 Lane John Davenport
