For this Sunday's sermon, I am trying something a little different. I'm making use of a video as part of my message. Check it out for the full effect. The Gospel reading is from John 4, the story of the Samaritan woman at the well.
Grace, mercy, and peace to you from the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
We continue this morning our time in the Gospel of John. Last week, we got to listen in on Jesus’ conversation with Nicodemus, who wondered how a person could be born again. This morning, we witness Jesus at a well, a Samaritan well, a well belonging to a people rejected and outcast by the Jews. Though the Samaritans claim the same heritage as the Jews, being descendants of Jacob, yet they are considered a different people, an inferior people. But this morning, Jesus stops at this well, the Samaritan well, the outsider well.
And at the well, he finds a woman, there at midday - alone, because everyone else draws water in the early morning. Jesus asks a drink of her - a Samaritan, a woman, an outsider among outsiders. Jesus asks her to give him a drink, beginning a conversation that will have dramatic results. And this unnamed Samaritan woman at the well proves to be one of the most remarkable characters in John's Gospel. This woman, as we shall see, is known by Jesus and comes to know him better than his own disciples do.
But before we examine this story in the Gospel of John, let's hear it in her own words.
The woman at the well is so different from Nicodemus, who encountered Jesus in our Gospel reading last week. Nicodemus was a person of authority, privilege, and power; the woman at the well is none of these things. She is an outsider among outsiders. Yet her story begins very much like Nicodemus’. Both of these characters misunderstand and misinterpret the words of Jesus, trying to understand spiritual matters in earthly terms. Nicodemus was confused how anyone could be born again, how a grown person could return to the mother’s womb. Likewise, the woman at the well does not understand what Jesus means by “living water.” At first, she thinks he means running water, water of higher quality than stagnant water. But Jesus corrects her: “Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again, but those who drink of the water that I will give them will never be thirsty. The water that I will give will become in them a spring of water gushing up to eternal life.”
Though the Samaritan woman at the well initially shares Nicodemus’ confusion, she moves beyond it in a way that Nicodemus never does. When confronted with the promise of living water, she tells Jesus, “Give me this water.”
This is her first revelation. She desires what Jesus offers; she is bold to ask for it. Now Jesus can move their conversation further, turn it from what is offered to the identity one who offers. He reveals that he knows her, understands her. He knows, as she says “everything she has ever done.”
And notice what happens. Because Jesus knows the woman, she knows something about him: she calls him a prophet. To be known is to know, to come to a deeper understanding. To be known by Jesus means knowing Jesus more fully.
Now, faced with a prophet, she asks him a religious question, a question which drives to the heart of her outcast status. The Jews worship in Jerusalem, but the Samaritans worship on this mountain. They worship the same God, but their differences drive them apart. She is outcast, excluded from Jewish society, for these religious differences. Now she wants Jesus to resolve them for her. She wants the one who has included her to include her whole people.
Once again, Jesus turns her mind from the earthly to the spiritual; for the place of worship, Jesus says, does not matter in the end. It does not matter where God is worshipped, but how God is worshipped. A God who is spirit will be worshipped in spirit and in truth. And among those who worship in spirit and in truth, there are no divisions, no exclusions, no outcasts.
Once again, the woman moves beyond her initial question to a deeper understanding. And now is her second revelation: her mind turns from prophets to the promised Messiah, the one who will “proclaim all things to us,” just as Jesus has been proclaiming to her.
This moment is striking: throughout the gospels, for various reasons, people come to see who Jesus is. They are driven to a confession of Jesus as the Messiah. Yet Jesus never takes this title for himself except here, with the woman at the well. When the woman at the well wonders aloud about the Messiah, Jesus definitively tells her, “I am he.”
To be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known. Too often we read this story as a morality tale, a story about a sinful woman - some even call her a prostitute - who is redeemed from her sin. But this story has nothing to do with morality; sin is never mentioned. This is a story about identity. This is a story that teaches us the miraculous power of being known, truly known, fully and completely known.
Jesus knows the woman at the well, and she comes to know Jesus as the source of living water, eternal life - the Messiah.
Because she has been known and has come to know, the woman at the well leaves Jesus to proclaim the good news to her people. The women who followed Jesus are often credited as being the first apostles, because they were the first to spread the news of Jesus’ resurrection. Perhaps the woman at the well became an apostle even before those women who went to the tomb. The woman at the well proclaims the good news, the good news about Jesus, the Messiah, the one who knows everything she has ever done.
If you read on in this chapter in John’s Gospel, you will find that the Samaritans are compelled by the proclamation of the woman at the well. They ask Jesus to stay with them, and many of them come to believe.
This is the miraculous power of being known. Because one woman found that she was fully known, her life was changed. She could not help but share this good news with everyone around her. Because one woman found that she was known, many came to know Jesus the Messiah, the Christ.
To be known is to be loved and to be loved is to be known. Each one of us is known by God, precious children in God's sight. Each one of us is known, and to be known is to be loved. We are constantly surrounded by God’s love. And loving the one who has first loved us, we come to know this man, Jesus, who stopped at a Samaritan well at midday to perform a miracle. Amen.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Thursday, March 10, 2011
March 6 Sermon - Transfiguration Sunday
I preached this past weekend for Transfiguration Sunday. I did something a little different with my sermon this time around: I enlisted some help from the congregation to do a sermon drama. I used this as a way to explain Moses' and Elijah's stories and their relevance to the Transfiguration event. My "actors" did a wonderful job, and I was pleased with the sermon.
(The text was Matthew 17:1-9.)
In our gospel reading for today, Jesus takes three of his disciples, Peter, James, and John, and climbs a high mountain. [Jesus walks up to the altar steps.] In this high and holy place, Jesus is transfigured; his face shines and his clothes dazzle. Suddenly, there appears to them Moses and Elijah...
[Moses and Elijah appear from the sacristy. Jesus stands between them. Peter, James, and John kneel in awe.]
Moses: I am Moses, the great leader of the people of Israel. I was called by God to lead the people out of their slavery in Egypt. I spoke to God face-to-face on a mountain, Mount Sinai. There God gave me the law to give to the people. Though I died before we entered the promised land, it is said that another prophet like me will arise. For it is written in the Torah, the law, “The LORD your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among your own people; you shall heed such a prophet.”
Elijah: I am Elijah, a man of God and a prophet of the Lord. I was faithful to God even when my life was in danger. God met me on a mountain and spoke to me, instructing me to anoint kings and promising to preserve those who remained faithful. I was lifted up to heaven by a chariot of fire in a whirlwind, and it is said that I will return. For it is written in the prophets, “I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes.”
Moses: Jesus is the prophet like me!
Elijah: Elijah has returned!
Peter: [stands] What is this we are seeing? Six days ago, I called Jesus the Messiah and the Son of God. Then Jesus told us he would suffer and die in Jerusalem and be raised on the third day. Now, Jesus is shining white, standing with Moses and Elijah – how can this be? Surely the presence of God is in this place! We are trespassing on holy ground!
[to Jesus, nervously] … Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah –
[Interrupting] And a voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; stop what you are doing, stop talking, and listen to him!”
And Jesus came and laid his healing hands on the disciples and said, “Get up and do not be afraid.”
[All characters return to seats.]
This is Transfiguration Sunday. This festival marks the last Sunday of the season of Epiphany, and it leans forward into the season of Lent and, eventually, Holy Week and Easter. Transfiguration Sunday commemorates the events we have just seen reenacted here: Jesus ascends a mountain with three of his disciples, where he is transfigured – not a term we use every day. With him appear Moses and Elijah, and the disciples are awed. A voice speaks from heaven, apparently interrupting Peter. Moses and Elijah vanish, and Jesus comforts the terrified disciples. As they return from the mountain, Jesus instructs them to keep this secret until the right time: when the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.
Transfiguration Sunday is a multi-faceted festival, full of different ideas and implications. We are reminded of Jesus' baptism by the voice from the clouds. We cannot help but think of Jesus' resurrection when we are given this mighty, glowing image of Jesus. And there are dark undertones in this text, as well: The “six days” at the beginning of the text are marked from Jesus' first prediction of his death. As Jesus descends from the mountain, he begins an inevitable march to Jerusalem, where he will be killed.
In this text, we also are confronted with strange images and references that may be hard to understand. Why is the mountain so significant? Why do Moses and Elijah appear? What is Peter trying to accomplish? Fundamentally, I think this text presses on us again the question: “Who is Jesus?” According to Matthew, just six days before, Jesus asked his disciples, “Who do you say that I am?” Today, we must also try to find an answer: “Who do you say that I am?”
When Jesus asked his disciples, “Who do you say that I am,” Peter proclaimed, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.” It seems to me that the Holy Spirit must have inspired this answer in Peter. Indeed, when Jesus is transfigured on the mountain, it proves that Peter was exactly right. Jesus is revealed to be something extraordinary. Jesus is revealed to Peter, James, and John, glowing with glory. Jesus is revealed beside Moses and Elijah – these two giants of the faith who possess messianic connections. It was said that another prophet like Moses would come; it was said that Elijah would return. In Jesus, at the transfiguration, these prophecies are linked and fulfilled. If you need character witnesses to prove your messianic status, you can't do better than Moses and Elijah.
And as if that weren't enough, there is also a cloud that appears and a voice that speaks out of it. It is impossible not to draw the connection between this revelation and Jesus' baptism, where a voice proclaimed, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” Here the voice adds a commandment: “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” The addition seems directed at Peter, who is apparently overcome by this transfiguration and is trying to figure out what to do in response.
This Transfiguration text can also speak to our own faith lives. Many of us have had “mountaintop experiences,” those moments when we feel profoundly close to God. We feel a certain kinship with the disciples here – after all, Peter, James, and John had the mountaintop experience par excellence. Yet like the disciples, we sometimes don't know what to do when we encounter the divine.
When we experience the presence of God, sometimes we react like Peter, babbling, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” Peter's nervousness, or eagerness, seems so very human, doesn't it? His intentions are clearly good, but he comes across as a bit of a fool. And the voice from the cloud cuts him off with the curt command: “Listen to him!” I heard one reinterpretation of the voice, that its message is, “Don't just do something – stand there!” Sometimes our busyness gets in the way of the message God wants us to receive. Sometimes we are too eager to do something, too eager to say something, that we forget to stop and listen. Sometimes we need to be quiet and let God speak.
So it is for Peter at the Transfiguration. Peter is so overwhelmed by this revelation of the divine, of Jesus' messianic status, that he can't stop talking. He feels this desperate need to do something. But the divine voice silences him. No Peter, this voice says, you need to listen to him. Be quiet. Listen.
Are your ears straining like Peter's to hear what Jesus will say? Indeed, Jesus does have something to say to his disciples. And it is these words that we should listen to today. Jesus says, “Get up and do not be afraid.” Get up. Do not be afraid. And as he speaks, he reaches out to touch the disciples – a touch that in Matthew is always associated with healing.
The divine voice says: Listen to him! And Jesus says, Do not be afraid. This is another revelation. The Transfiguration reveals Jesus as the Messiah, the fulfillment of prophecies, the Son of God. And these words reveal the depth of Jesus' love and healing care. The Jesus who heals and cares for others is not replaced by this shining, transfigured Messiah. Rather, we find that Jesus remains steadfast in his compassion for others, starting with his terrified disciples.
We often need to hear this reassurance. When we have experiences that seem overwhelming, then we need to be reminded of the abiding love of Jesus. When we are terrified, we need to feel that healing touch. Like the disciples, we need to know that the God who is transcendent, greater than everything, is also immanent, profoundly close to us. Jesus cares for us as deeply as he cared for his disciples. Amen.
(The text was Matthew 17:1-9.)
In our gospel reading for today, Jesus takes three of his disciples, Peter, James, and John, and climbs a high mountain. [Jesus walks up to the altar steps.] In this high and holy place, Jesus is transfigured; his face shines and his clothes dazzle. Suddenly, there appears to them Moses and Elijah...
[Moses and Elijah appear from the sacristy. Jesus stands between them. Peter, James, and John kneel in awe.]
Moses: I am Moses, the great leader of the people of Israel. I was called by God to lead the people out of their slavery in Egypt. I spoke to God face-to-face on a mountain, Mount Sinai. There God gave me the law to give to the people. Though I died before we entered the promised land, it is said that another prophet like me will arise. For it is written in the Torah, the law, “The LORD your God will raise up for you a prophet like me from among your own people; you shall heed such a prophet.”
Elijah: I am Elijah, a man of God and a prophet of the Lord. I was faithful to God even when my life was in danger. God met me on a mountain and spoke to me, instructing me to anoint kings and promising to preserve those who remained faithful. I was lifted up to heaven by a chariot of fire in a whirlwind, and it is said that I will return. For it is written in the prophets, “I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes.”
Moses: Jesus is the prophet like me!
Elijah: Elijah has returned!
Peter: [stands] What is this we are seeing? Six days ago, I called Jesus the Messiah and the Son of God. Then Jesus told us he would suffer and die in Jerusalem and be raised on the third day. Now, Jesus is shining white, standing with Moses and Elijah – how can this be? Surely the presence of God is in this place! We are trespassing on holy ground!
[to Jesus, nervously] … Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah –
[Interrupting] And a voice from the cloud said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; stop what you are doing, stop talking, and listen to him!”
And Jesus came and laid his healing hands on the disciples and said, “Get up and do not be afraid.”
[All characters return to seats.]
This is Transfiguration Sunday. This festival marks the last Sunday of the season of Epiphany, and it leans forward into the season of Lent and, eventually, Holy Week and Easter. Transfiguration Sunday commemorates the events we have just seen reenacted here: Jesus ascends a mountain with three of his disciples, where he is transfigured – not a term we use every day. With him appear Moses and Elijah, and the disciples are awed. A voice speaks from heaven, apparently interrupting Peter. Moses and Elijah vanish, and Jesus comforts the terrified disciples. As they return from the mountain, Jesus instructs them to keep this secret until the right time: when the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.
Transfiguration Sunday is a multi-faceted festival, full of different ideas and implications. We are reminded of Jesus' baptism by the voice from the clouds. We cannot help but think of Jesus' resurrection when we are given this mighty, glowing image of Jesus. And there are dark undertones in this text, as well: The “six days” at the beginning of the text are marked from Jesus' first prediction of his death. As Jesus descends from the mountain, he begins an inevitable march to Jerusalem, where he will be killed.
In this text, we also are confronted with strange images and references that may be hard to understand. Why is the mountain so significant? Why do Moses and Elijah appear? What is Peter trying to accomplish? Fundamentally, I think this text presses on us again the question: “Who is Jesus?” According to Matthew, just six days before, Jesus asked his disciples, “Who do you say that I am?” Today, we must also try to find an answer: “Who do you say that I am?”
When Jesus asked his disciples, “Who do you say that I am,” Peter proclaimed, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God.” It seems to me that the Holy Spirit must have inspired this answer in Peter. Indeed, when Jesus is transfigured on the mountain, it proves that Peter was exactly right. Jesus is revealed to be something extraordinary. Jesus is revealed to Peter, James, and John, glowing with glory. Jesus is revealed beside Moses and Elijah – these two giants of the faith who possess messianic connections. It was said that another prophet like Moses would come; it was said that Elijah would return. In Jesus, at the transfiguration, these prophecies are linked and fulfilled. If you need character witnesses to prove your messianic status, you can't do better than Moses and Elijah.
And as if that weren't enough, there is also a cloud that appears and a voice that speaks out of it. It is impossible not to draw the connection between this revelation and Jesus' baptism, where a voice proclaimed, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.” Here the voice adds a commandment: “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” The addition seems directed at Peter, who is apparently overcome by this transfiguration and is trying to figure out what to do in response.
This Transfiguration text can also speak to our own faith lives. Many of us have had “mountaintop experiences,” those moments when we feel profoundly close to God. We feel a certain kinship with the disciples here – after all, Peter, James, and John had the mountaintop experience par excellence. Yet like the disciples, we sometimes don't know what to do when we encounter the divine.
When we experience the presence of God, sometimes we react like Peter, babbling, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” Peter's nervousness, or eagerness, seems so very human, doesn't it? His intentions are clearly good, but he comes across as a bit of a fool. And the voice from the cloud cuts him off with the curt command: “Listen to him!” I heard one reinterpretation of the voice, that its message is, “Don't just do something – stand there!” Sometimes our busyness gets in the way of the message God wants us to receive. Sometimes we are too eager to do something, too eager to say something, that we forget to stop and listen. Sometimes we need to be quiet and let God speak.
So it is for Peter at the Transfiguration. Peter is so overwhelmed by this revelation of the divine, of Jesus' messianic status, that he can't stop talking. He feels this desperate need to do something. But the divine voice silences him. No Peter, this voice says, you need to listen to him. Be quiet. Listen.
Are your ears straining like Peter's to hear what Jesus will say? Indeed, Jesus does have something to say to his disciples. And it is these words that we should listen to today. Jesus says, “Get up and do not be afraid.” Get up. Do not be afraid. And as he speaks, he reaches out to touch the disciples – a touch that in Matthew is always associated with healing.
The divine voice says: Listen to him! And Jesus says, Do not be afraid. This is another revelation. The Transfiguration reveals Jesus as the Messiah, the fulfillment of prophecies, the Son of God. And these words reveal the depth of Jesus' love and healing care. The Jesus who heals and cares for others is not replaced by this shining, transfigured Messiah. Rather, we find that Jesus remains steadfast in his compassion for others, starting with his terrified disciples.
We often need to hear this reassurance. When we have experiences that seem overwhelming, then we need to be reminded of the abiding love of Jesus. When we are terrified, we need to feel that healing touch. Like the disciples, we need to know that the God who is transcendent, greater than everything, is also immanent, profoundly close to us. Jesus cares for us as deeply as he cared for his disciples. Amen.
Giving up Lent for Lent
This is the newsletter article I wrote for the month of March. As we begin the Lenten journey to Easter, sometimes it helps to remember that Lent is not about guilt or a competition to see who can give up the most. My idea of "giving up Lent for Lent" was inspired by Dr. Schramm up at the seminary.
"Giving up Lent for Lent"
God's grace and peace be with all of you!
This month, we enter the season of Lent - a time of penitence and reflection before Easter, modeled on Jesus' own time in the wilderness. Christians have traditionally given up certain luxuries - like meat - for this season. Today, many choose to give up chocolate or soda or other temptations.
Others choose to take on a practice rather than give something up. They may take on an intentional time each day for prayer or reading Scripture. They may choose to devote extra time or money for caring for others.
The purpose of "giving up" or "taking on" is to deepen our spiritual lives. We remind ourselves during Lent that we are dependent on God and that God calls us to care for others. We should remember these lessons all year round! But sometimes it helps to have a reminder, and so many people choose a Lenten practice. Yet sometimes, the practice of Lent can feel like a burden.
One of my seminary professors is fond of saying every year, "I'm giving up Lent for Lent." Now, I can't say I know exactly what he meant by those words, but I think his point was that he was opting out: neither giving something up nor taking something on. In the overwhelming stress of seminary, I appreciated his implicit permission not to "do Lent." Sometimes our lives don't fit with the liturgical calendar. Sometimes we can't give anything up. Sometimes we can't squeeze a single extra thing onto our overburdened plates. Sometimes we need to give up Lent for Lent.
When we feel overwhelmed, Lent can seem like the straw that broke the camel's back: it's just one more thing we're expected to do. That's not how Lent should be. The season of Lent isn't designed to make us feel guilty and inadequate. It's designed to help us center our lives on God, and we can do that in a variety of ways.
So if you give something up this Lenten season, I pray that you will be reminded that we do not live by bread (or chocolate, or caffeine) alone. If you take something on, I pray that you will be enriched and enrich the lives of others. And if you choose to give up Lent for Lent, I offer you the words of Martin Luther: "Sin boldly! And trust in Christ more boldly still."
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