MIRROR, MIRROR, ON THE WALL!

EXODUS 34:29-35 Last Sunday after the Epiphany; Transfiguration PSALM 99 March 3, 2019 II CORINTHIANS 3:12-4:2 Year C LUKE 9:28-36 (37-43a)

MIRROR, MIRROR, ON THE WALL! (The preached portion of the sermon is in bold.)

We walk by faith and not by sight! For some reason these words have

been resonating with me a lot lately, constantly come to mind during

these recent days, a reminder that, if we are true to our word, that we

place our trust in the still speaking Spirit of God to guide our lives and

all our many varied adventures. My hunch is that this has a lot to do

with our present circumstances, the byproduct of which is the

multifaceted and multilayered levels of anxiety and excitement our

present predicament produces. Yes, it is a blind trust, our faith in God!

Throughout the Christian scriptures there are numerous derivatives

of this cornerstone affirmation, continually reminding us of the always

challenging allegiance that bids us to faithfully come and follow. In II

Corinthians, Romans, Galatians, and Hebrews we read a variation of

this idea, reinforcing the notion that we always live somewhere

between the known and the unknown, the knowing and the

unknowing. But perhaps, even probably, reminding us that we live as

much, if not more, into a certain if not heavy amount of skepticism, an

all-consuming doubt, instead of a strong and confident assurance. In

one of the more notable resurrection narratives, found in the Gospel

of John, we encounter Jesus’ encounter with Thomas, the one forever

dubbed the doubter, his having missed that initial reunion with his

Lord. Demanding to touch Jesus while laying eyes upon his master,

Thomas is quickly overwhelmed with the gravitas of the moment, the

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largesse of this grandiose gift now being benevolently offered him. All

it took was a touch and he was restored, all cynicism alleviated, his

fears assuaged in every satisfactory way imaginable as he once again

laid eyes on his Lord, even if perhaps, for the first time! Imagination,

by the way, being the operative watchword here! Jesus then declares

for all to hear, that blessed are those who believe despite not being

privy to the sense of sight; blessed are those who believe, who do not

get to see! It would be safe to assume, therefore, that definitely blessed

are those who are not allowed even so much as a touch! What is it that

we see? What is it that has touched us? Is it that we dare to believe,

emboldened by faith, choosing to order our lives around Jesus’ stern

but gentle admonitions, obeying his heavy yet easy and light

directives, following in his footsteps as best and as much as we can?

Could it be so? What is it that compels us to belief, to faith, and to

action?

Today is the day of Transfiguration, a liturgical day of magical, mystical,

metaphor, a day of mystery and wonder, an ethereal day in so many ways.

As much as possible, we are reminded on this stop on the Church Year

calendar that we seek to be solely guided by faith, reminded that the only

possible answer to our deepest wonderment is found in what at its purest

essence is complete and total unbound mystery. Mystery describes, but

never defines in any way. Mystery is always wrapped in awe-inspiring

transcendence. Come to think of it, life is a mystery, human life especially

so! It seeks at best to even partially, slightly explain, never fully, whatever

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and whoever this reality is that we pedestrianly, routinely, dare we say

flippantly, have the audacity to refer to as God! The very name “God” is a

human construct, even if informed by an experience of divine presence. For

whatever the essence of pure holiness is, surely, we know that it far exceeds,

far surpasses any limitation of human language! As John Shelby Spong says,

we might have an experience of a spiritual nature, sometimes, maybe,

maybe not bound in a specific event, but our description is nothing more

than mere interpretation, nor can it ever be. It is never explanation! Yes,

even to call God, God, is in itself insulting at some level, at the least

accidentally, innocently so, because while we know this moniker is

inadequate in every respect, we also know that it is the best we can muster

this side of eternity. We know full well that we are at a great disadvantage,

hamstrung we might say, limited by the limitation of our human knowledge,

from whence comes all language. For indeed it is in our finite understanding

that we even dare in the first place to produce a “God language”, knowing

that these supposedly sacred words are part and parcel of what we, when

we are honest, know are human initiated, spawned by human curiosity and

imagination, yet readily acknowledging that all of it is inherently flawed.

Though certainly acceptable for our immediate needs, this vast undertaking

is always a most insufficient exercise, always lacking in every respect. God

can never be bound, never defined, never put in the proverbial box. Our God,

the God of our creation, the God of our imagination, is always way too small,

never big or wide or all-encompassing enough, always far beyond our grasp,

far more than the greatest conception of our wildest imagination!

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Today we are called to experience a mountaintop moment ironically

revealing both the highs and lows, the peaks and valleys of our daily

existence. From the purview of this high vista, like Jesus and the

disciples of old, we look to the valley below, as small as everything

appears to be, and see unfolding before us a forty-day journey in and

through exile’s wilderness, no apparent path provided, and yet a clear

pathway always in the offing, ever revealed before us, illuminating an

amazing journey, even when roads diverge in a fork of a most

perplexing dilemma, leaving us with a challenging conundrum indeed.

As Yogi Berra once said, “If you come to a fork in the road, take it!” It

ain’t no yellow brick road! And, we ain’t heading to Oz! This is Lent! It

is a holy season that calls us to follow, to engage a disciplined

adventure demanding of us intensely sensitive focus, an

excruciatingly, myopically obsessive scrutiny, risking the examination

of every aspect of our lives, exposed in every way, naked and ashamed

or not, especially, particularly within the confines, the context of our

relationship to God and with one another. It is a marathon, not a

sprint! It is not for the faint of heart, the timid of mind! Lent demands

of each one of us an intense and intentional critical discipline, a

heightened awareness only discovered through personal reflection

and introspection, discernment and discretion, every aspect of our

lofty personal inventory and best aspirations shining a light into the

darkest recesses of our being. Yes, this exercise can be a little daunting,

more than a little intimidating, a bit frightening even, scary in many

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respects, for in many ways it is the ultimate sacrament, a sacrifice

unlike any other because it simply demands self, and that is no simple

thing. In Lent our individuality is intentionally on display, as much,

even more than our corporate commitment as beloved faith

community. No wonder many choose to avoid Lent like the plague,

running for the hills, denying an exercise that risks ultimate

vulnerability, potential pain and pleasure, the bane and blessing of

self-discovery. As Jesus once said, “Many are called, but few are

chosen!” (Matthew 22:14). Perhaps that is why so many choose to go

into spiritual hibernation for the next six weeks—we will see you at

Easter—looking every bit like a groundhog, only coming out of the

burrow once again as the light of Easter’s resurrection brightness

shines, penetrating the crevices of life’s hiding places. Good luck with

that naïve denial! Ironically, Transfiguration is all about light, the brightest

light imaginable, and imagination is surely our watchword! It is as if the

biblical writers along with the lectionary editors who follow their ancient

script want us to see clearly, as far as the eye can see on this day, knowing

that the shadows of darkness are right around the bend, threatening to dull

our senses and dampen our spirits, denying the clarity of our vast visibility,

threatening to trash our optimistic perspective, consuming us with what the

Psalmist ominously called the “shadow of the valley of death,” where fear

truly lurks and looms large. Ironically, it is at life’s abyss where doors are

opened and windows are cracked, enabling and empowering us to catch a

glimpse of the divine, to gain even a slight grasp of God’s eternal realm.

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Divine presence must always be seized immediately, while it is present,

while it is available, seeing with a keenness a hint which can all but

disappear in an instant, as with the swiftness of a light switch. In Celtic lore

it is what the Irish call “Thin Places,” places on earth where heaven and

earth seem but a breath apart. So, grab this day with all the gusto you can

muster, for the challenge of the beauty and wonderment of the dark night of

the soul awaits, invites. For it is in times of testing and trial, and even

temptation, that we are steeled with clarity of person and purpose,

sharpness of being, an acute sensory awareness that reminds us that we are

alive and that we are indeed creatively and uniquely attuned to the still

speaking Spirit of God. We are hardwired to God and to one another as a

massive, immense beloved faith community of global village capacity, at one

with the universe, the expanse of which knows no bounds, has no limits, but

transcends infinity and beyond. Now that, my friends, should capture even

the most jaded imagination!

In his second letter to the Corinthians, a troubling epistle revealing a

painful strain on his relationship with this robust community of the

faithful, Paul speaks, as he frequently does, about his heritage as a Jew

and his status as a Pharisee. As with many early Christian writers

seeking to define and inform the infant Church, Paul draws

comparisons to the ancient faith—parallels that are unfortunately not

often kind—making connections to his familial and familiar Judaism,

the faith that once nurtured his faith and continued to inform his

newly evolving Christological theology. Paul makes a strange

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statement, reminding his curious Hellenistic audience, these fledgling

Greek readers of things strangely unfamiliar, evolving Christian

images of which they would have been mostly clueless. For many

Gentiles this was uncharted territory! Paul has the audacity to speak

to his Greek, mostly gentile audience about the veil described in

Exodus that Moses was once required to wear after descending the

mountaintop, a necessity to keep his anxiously awaiting people from

being blinded upon his return. What would a Gentile know about any

of this stuff, as interesting as all of it might be? We for the most part,

do not even get it! Paul’s intriguing point is that, in this one named

Jesus, there is no further need of a veil, for all people can see clearly

now! Really? Paul says that it is as if we are looking into a mirror,

seeing perfectly clear the glory of God. My first thought upon further

review, upon a closer examination, is that when I look in a mirror, I

only manage to see myself. As pretty as I think I might be, I must

acknowledge my limited capacity, especially the outlandish idea to see

anything beyond myself. I do not even remotely see God or anything

coming close to holiness. But I do get Paul’s drift. I get where he is

taking us. I “see” his point! That is exactly who I should see! Myself! It

is the same for all of us as we stare into a mirror. For we know that in

ourselves, there is a spark of the Divine, the presence of God

embodied, imbued, instilled within us all, each one a holy creation

crafted, created in the divine image, God stamping a divine imprimatur

on us all. That is the way we were and are imaged by our creator. Yes,

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believe it or not, Paul is daring to suggest that when we look in the

mirror, it is the Divine that should be looking right back at us!

The problem for me, and perhaps for many of you, however, is that if I look

in a mirror in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the divine, what I see

appears to be nothing more than a major distortion, a facsimile at best. To

be honest, it is as if I am looking into a carnival fun house mirror, skewed by

the numerous concave and convex dimensions placed in its creation by the

one who made it that way, fashioning it just so, intentionally desiring its

funny, twisted and contorted effect. As amusing as the sight may be, it does

nothing to create clarity about me or my surroundings, much less my faith,

but only serves to further add confusion to my already oft conflicted

realities. If the still speaking Spirit of God does anything to illumine an

awareness of my being, it is unfortunately more about showing my flaws

and failures, my limitations and shortcomings, reflecting the gap that exists

between who I am and who I want to be, and hopefully, assuming all

arrogance aside, who God desires me to be. The funeral liturgy from the

Prayer Book tells us, “In the midst of life we are in death.” Liturgically

speaking, in the midst of Easter we are in Lent and vice versa. On this day of

extreme brightness, excessively bright light, we are already shrouded in

darkness as it closes in around us. Life is always about the whole, not the

part. In our healthiest living we do not live compartmentalized lives,

isolated from one another and reality, but rather live in the integration of

every spectrum of life’s rainbow, including the dark colors hidden in the

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shadows though constantly lurking all around, threatening to deny the

bright hues of an always absolutely beautifully colorful array.

As I read about Paul’s metaphorical mirror, I could not help but recall

another image of glass the Apostle uses to describe our limited

perspective. To be honest, it goes completely, diametrically in opposition

to what he says in today’s Corinthian lection. Perhaps this inconsistency of

text is a reminder that it really is unfair to hold any of these biblical writers

accountable to a consistent hermeneutic. What we find in Paul’s writings is

the same thing we discover with much of the biblical narrative, the only

consistency is the inconsistency! My hunch is that as they were writing,

especially in the case of these letter writers, they could not remember what

they wrote yesterday, much less last week or last month! Again, writing to

the Corinthians in his first epistle to this local church on Corinthian

soil, Paul says, “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face.

Now I know in part; then I shall understand fully. . .” (13:12). Now folks,

there is a text I can wrap my mind around, sink my teeth into! That, I can

believe! I love the translation of the authorized King James Version of this

verse, something I can rarely say about the KJV, “For now we see through a

glass darkly!” If this succinct statement does not fully define the crux of our

faith, describe our belief in economic detail, then nothing else does, nothing

else even comes close, at least in my humble estimation. Even so these two

counter narratives found in Paul’s letters to the Corinthians remind us that

there are some things we see with crystal clarity while others not so much.

As is often the case it is both/and not either/or! Writing on a different day

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in a different mood or mindset surely would allow a different viewpoint.

Who knows where Paul was on a given day, emotionally, intellectually,

physically when he wrote these words? He had to be exhausted much of the

time, traveling as he did. Environment always plays a significant role,

allowing a different place, a different perspective! After all, Paul was

continuously haunted by that metaphorically undefined thorn in his flesh,

whatever it was! Who knows what linguistic casualty and creativity that

constant companion caused?

How strange indeed that we end this celebration of Transfiguration, by

snuffing its bright light with images of darkness, shadows of death’s deeply

depressing images all tugging at us, wanting us to leave the mountaintop

and come down to the valley and play. The question before us every Lent as

we enter Lent is, “Are we up for this game?” Perhaps Transfiguration is a

reminder that all of life is lived somewhere between the bright white lights

and the thick black darkness. Our feet are always in both places, both

realities! And so once again we are called to live into great mystery, hoping

to pull back the veils that obscure our view and our knowing, protecting us

from sensory overload, calling us into an awe inspiring and inspiriting

transcendence of amazingly mysterious, magical and mystical, presence.

Once again today we are reminded that our beliefs, whatever they are, and

our faith, whatever it is, is more about the questions rather than the

answers, more about the means than the end, more about curiosity than

conclusions, more about the journey rather than the destination, more

about the process than the product. If you are seeking any or all of those,

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you will have to look elsewhere, to another steeple where simplicity is the

watchword. There are numerous places that offer that kind of simplistic

vision in abundance, that low level seeing and sight. It may tug at the heart,

but it will not challenge the mind! When we are honest, we realize that

answers will always be in short supply when it comes to these deeply

complex considerations, these lofty, weighty matters of theological import.

Simple solutions rarely suffice, failing to meet the demand when life’s

rubber meets life’s road! Mystery does not lend itself to “Q” and “A”! Better

put, I suppose, is that mystery does not answer to “Q” and “A”. As Jesus once

opined, “Let those who have eyes, see; let those who have ears, hear!” The

images seem so mixed, so conflicted and so counter intuitive, but

amazingly, they are somehow so very compatible. My hope is that you

will accept the challenge of Lent with all its dynamics, everything that

this holy season has to offer. Don’t run away! Don’t be a groundhog!

Listen today and always for the still speaking Spirit of God! And while

you are at it, listen to Jesus too, for in the short and the long term, that

can never hurt either!

In the name of the One who creates, redeems, sustains, and blesses us

to be a mirror, a reflection of the Holy, knowing that on most days we

can all be a rather dim lot! Amen and amen!

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Timothy W. Shirley SouthShore United Church of Christ Sun City Center, Florida 33573 © March 3, 2019

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