"Speaking of his departure"-Sermon for Last Sunday of Epiphany, Luke 9:28-36
Last week I was invited to join a training session for a newly developed spiritual formation program called “Being With”. For those who follow his work, the program was created by the Rev. Sam Wells, Vicar of St. Martin-in-the-Fields in London, England (which by the way is no longer in a field but in Trafalgar Square if you are ever visiting London). And, Sam trained us to lead “Being With”, which I hope at some point you will all do with me, by essentially being participants ourselves…to experience the program as one going through it…rather than as one leading it. And, toward the beginning of each session, much like in our children’s program Godly Play, the facilitator offers a wondering question for the group to consider together. And, in the first session, one of the wonderings was, “I wonder what it would be like to know the future isn’t going to hurt you.” I wonder what it would be like to know the future isn’t going to hurt you.
Now, that question, indeed, got me wondering! For, I have never thought of the future in those exact terms…as something uncertain for sure…but to fear hurting me was a new twist. But, as my fellow trainees and I began to share, it quickly became apparent how relevant the question is…how I do, indeed, have some level of fear around the future and the unknowns that lie therein…how they threaten my sense of well-being in the present and create anxiety about our undiscovered future. My mind quickly began to ruminate on things like future variants…like a return to the cold war…like climate change…or, perhaps, things a bit closer to home like successfully completing a significant capital campaign in the coming months that building our future church hinges upon. I began to think of past moments in my life when a choice made created great risk or uncertainty for my future life and that of others. Like when the bishop asked me to plant St. Julian’s…anxiously wondering what that would mean if it didn’t work out…if no one joined us…if we failed to thrive…what would such a result mean for my career…what would be the spiritual impact on the lives of those who were courageous enough to join me from the beginning…would their faith in God be irreparably harmed if we closed our doors shortly after opening them? I remembered the feeling of looking in the crib at my first new born baby…there was joy indeed…but that was mingled with not a little bit of fear…questions arose about the sort of world my daughter would inherit…and questions like could I survive losing someone that I loved so much for, as we know all too well, life is indeed fragile. I remember preaching and officiating at my dad’s funeral following his premature death resulting from years of addiction…and, again, questions arose about my own ability to live differently…the ability to overcome my own genetic make-up and to make different sorts of choices to create a different sort of future for my own life. Indeed, as I began to really ponder Sam’s wondering, I began to realize that perhaps I do fear the future…and I began to wonder what it would be like to know…to really know…that the future is not going to hurt me. Fruther, I began to realize how that fear of future hurt, future failure, future disappointment, both for myself and those I love, was, maybe even unconsciously, impacting my head space, my sense of hope and peace and joy and excitement and optimism, in the present.
And, it is literally in a moment of pondering his uncertain future that we find Jesus today up on the mountaintop. Luke tells us that Jesus travels up that mountain with three of his friends and followers, Peter, James and John, and there is transfigured into his divine glory…his clothes become dazzling white and he begins to shine like the sun. And, Jesus’ disciples then see there with Jesus two of the greats of the Old Testament, Moses and Elijah, who together represent the totality of our spiritual heritage rooted in the Jewish faith…again…Moses the law-giver and Elijah the prophet. And, then Luke shares with us the very purpose for such an august gathering…the primary reason for Jesus and his friends making the trip up the mountain in the first place, Luke writes, “They appeared in glory and were speaking of his [of Jesus’] departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.” So, again, they were discussing Jesus’ future…his future departure…and we know that story…we enter into that story as a church, once again, in 3 days’ time on Ash Wednesday…in the somber remembrance of our own mortality…remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return. So, we know exactly what Jesus’ departure, that these 3 supernatural superstars, looks like and entails. It is the story of a violent cross…of public humiliation…an unjust trial…the betrayal of friends…torture…and even death…fear inducing indeed! This is what Jesus, Moses and Elijah are discussing…thinking about together. And, as I describe this future to you…I can feel the tension as it rises up in my own body.
So where does that leave us? Well, there are multiple answers to that question. The realization that even love incarnate is crucified in this world…that even the very best version of ourselves will experience suffering, disappointment and death in the futures that lie before us leads many to apathy…for why should we try to find joy or peace in the present moment if the other shoe is surely to drop? Why should we try to do good for ourselves or others if such work will never entirely undue evil? Why should we care about just about anything or anyone if suffering and death are our inescapable end? Why not just embrace apathy…rehearse tragedy…expect it and then maybe somehow it will all be less disappointing. Or, we can take the eat, drink and be merry track…numb ourselves to death…who cares about who that might hurt along the way…at least then we don’t feel how awful it all really is. Or, we can take the future proofing track…seek to control our lives and that of others so entirely that we can somehow manipulate the future to our own desired ends. Though we have to know deep down that a desire to control is a fruitless effort that can only lead to greater disillusionment when one realizes that the ability to control the future is well beyond human capacity…and that the desire, even unconscious desire, to control others only drives them away and leads to greater isolation and misery. To me these protentional responses to a “fear of future hurt” feel utterly self-defeating and entirely destructive choices and not for ourselves alone. So, again, where does that leave us? Well, I believe there is yet another possibility…and surely a more hopeful one…and one that Jesus’ transfiguration even points.
For, as Jesus discusses his uncertain and unsettling future with his own spiritual ancestors…as they reflect on such darkness…from the point of view of his friends and followers, peering in on the conversation from the outside, Peter, James and John see something altogether different…they see glory…they see Jesus shining like the sun…they don’t see darkness but light…the most amazing light filled encounter with the divine that they could likely have ever imagined. Luke goes on to tell us they even hear the very voice of God. They see Jesus not on a cross…not as the suffering servant like the crucifixes that adorn the walls of so many churches…but they are given a glimpse of the resurrected Jesus…a glimpse of Jesus’ glorious body full of everlasting life that emerges from an empty tomb…death’s defeat…life’s victory. And, for me, this entirely transforms the wondering that Sam placed before us in that training session. Yes, the future is uncertain…yes future suffering, even, the end of life as we know it lies before us…but what if we believed that is not the end of our future…but instead…beyond all of that…our future only holds life, light, love, eternal bliss…life that is everlasting, which Jesus’ glorious resurrection inaugurates for all of us.
In the teaching section for the first session of “Being With” that followed the wondering question about believing that the future will not hurt you, Sam writes “Everlasting life doesn’t take away the unknown element of the future: but it takes away the [outpouring] of fear that engulfs the cloud of unknowing. Everlasting life doesn’t dismantle the reality of death, suffering, bereavement: but it offers life beyond death, comfort beyond suffering, companionship beyond separation. In the absence of everlasting life we’re terrified of our future, perpetually trying to secure permanence in the face of change, meaning in the face of waste, distraction in the face of despair. Everlasting life doesn’t undermine human endeavor, but it rids it of the last word; evil is real, but it won’t have the final say; death is coming, but it doesn’t obliterate the power of God; identity is fragile, but that in us that resides in God will be changed into glory. Imagine for a moment the gift of everlasting life. Feel it slowly dismantle all your worst fears. Let it set you free. Let it give you indescribable joy.”
Which leads me back to the present…not the future. For, my sincere hope is that the choice to believe by faith that everlasting life is our future…will indeed set you free in the present…right now. Not free of all of the challenges, in all the forms they take, that still lie before each of us…that’s just life on this side of glory…but free from apathy…free from not caring…free from any desire to numb ourselves to obliteration…free from any sense that the good work you do doesn’t matter…because it does…it points to the truth of love’s victory…the truth of everlasting life. For everlasting life, forged in the resurrection fire of Jesus’ empty tomb that the disciples got just a glimpse of on the Mount of Transfiguration, makes us free to take risks…to be bold…to empathetically enter into the pain of another…to live a life that is fully alive, meaning-making and so very good. Let everlasting life set you free. Let it give you indescribable joy. Amen.