March 6th, 2022

This morning, in our gospel, Jesus tangles with the devil in the desert. It is one of the great scenes from the gospel. For Jesus, having gone out alone into the desert for mindful contemplation, for a moment to think on his own, what creeps into his mind? The temptations the devil presents. We imagine Jesus standing with the devil at his side, taunting him to play along with his riddle game. The devil is wily; he knows humanity’s weaknesses well. He begins with a good one, the one that whispers its larger question: Are you good enough? Can you prove it? “If you are who you say, turn this stone to bread.” But Jesus declines: One does not live by bread alone. (Translation: I don’t need to prove myself to you. I know my worth and don’t need to show off.) So the Devil goes with greed: “Look at these kingdoms; join me and they are yours.” Jesus answers, Worship God and only God. (Translation: the path you promise might lead to riches, but the cost of my soul and morality is too high a price.) And finally the Devil tried doubt: does this God really exists? Does God even care about you? He tells Jesus, “Throw yourself off this mountain and see if you are saved.” But Jesus says: I don’t need to test God. By which he means: my faith is enough for me; it keeps my feet on the ground and my eyes looking forward. The tests are passed, and at an opportune time, we are told, the devil gives up and goes away. Still - those challenges! What tests they were: pride, greed, doubt! Temptations that have long plagued humanity before and since, whispers that reach out to us at night, or slip in when our minds are quiet. Am I good enough? (And how to show it?) Am I rich enough? (And how to get richer.) Am I loved enough? (And how to test it.) The devil chose those challenges well. For they lead us down a path of despair to focusing on what we don’t have and losing site of what we do. Even more, they distract us from the gospel. If we are worried about showing how good we are, we are not lifting up others. If we are worried about how rich we are, we are not sharing with others. If we are testing the love of those around us, we are not focused first on loving those around us. The devil is a formidable adversary. Jesus outsmarts him, but we shouldn’t underestimate that. And yet, what happens when the devil is challenged – when instead of hubris, greed, and doubt, the world chooses the opposite? What happens when we don’t give in, when we resist temptation? This week, The Atlantic Monthly published a piece online with the headline “The Impossible Suddenly Became Possible.” The essay explored the world’s unexpected reaction to Russia’s invasion of democratic Ukraine. “Human beings,” the author wrote, “do not always act the way they are supposed to act.” They don’t always “duck and cover,” take the easy way out, give in to an easier path. Sometimes, as we have seen, they stand strong, and together, and face the devil. Sometimes a leader who everyone underestimated refuse to be cowed, and shows remarkable bravery; sometimes, in response to that bravery, other countries step up, and companies sacrifice their bottom line for a greater good. Sometimes, people who were supposed to run refuse to run. They refuse to run even in the face of all but certain defeat because not to fight at all is a more terrible loss. And so the impossible becomes possible. In that moment, whatever happens now, the devil has already lost. This is what we are seeing right now: the power of courage, loyalty, and faith. What happens when a leader stands by his people and risks everything? What happens when people say there are things in life more important than money and profits; qualities such as integrity, that, as we see now, are priceless? What happens when we say let us not doubt and dither; let us act in the way we know we should? In this, whatever happens now, the devil has already lost. So it was with Jesus. We know that after those days in the desert, whatever was to happen next, the devil had already lost. Jesus had prevailed; he had kept his soul, and held to his beliefs, and remained true to himself. Those values would carry him all the rest of the way. I wrote the first draft of this sermon on Thursday; just as the port city of Mariupol fell to the Russians. The convoy outside Kyiv was still stalled, but that wouldn’t last. Putin, in a TV appearance, was vowing victory no matter what. The President of Ukraine has said the Russian plan is to erase Ukraine, and yet they are still here. What’s more, the Ukrainians who refuse to bend to a tyrant have already changed the world. And yet, they fight on, as Andrew Coyne, a columnist in The Globe and Mail wrote this week of the people of Ukraine. “Because they have no choice?” he asks. “No. Because they have chosen.” On that day in the desert, Jesus was playing a game of wits with the devil; he was making choices. He was deciding his path. When we choose courage, faith, and hope, we are making a choice; we are deciding our path. When we need reminding, we might look to the example of everyday Ukrainians – baristas, and grandmothers, and businesspeople – who are defending democracy. Not because they have no choice. But because they have chosen. Amen

February 27th, 2022

I know that for many of us, it is mighty hard to centre ourselves in that moment on the mountain that is described in our gospel this morning. Our thoughts, understandably, are with the people of Ukraine, now at war, a sovereign, democratic country invaded by a tyrant. This is the truth of the moment - a truth we knew already existed; a truth revealed by President Putin’s terrible and evil actions this week. And now the world is transfigured by a terrible truth we don’t want to be real but have to face. That is the epiphany of this moment. It is upon us. So it is hard to travel up that mountain with the disciples, hanging out with the ghosts of old prophets; and yet, as we might find when we get up there, it is even harder to leave the safe space of that mountain. There is always a lesson in the gospel, even for us, who seem so far away, living in a different time. What is an epiphany? It is a sudden insight or change of perspective that transforms our ideas of who we are and the meaning of our lives. There is no going back from an epiphany: there is only the before and the after. The transfiguration of Jesus is the epiphany that we have been waiting for all this church season, the place to which we have been heading. There is no going back from this moment; there is only the before and the after. In our gospel, the disciples are hanging out with Jesus on the mountain, enjoying bit of a relaxation away from the crowd. In part one of the epiphany moment, we hear that while Jesus is praying, he shines bright and his appearance changes. But Peter is maybe enjoying the leisure time a bit too much. He is already thinking of setting up permanent residence on the mountain. Cue part two of the epiphany: the voice of God: “This is my Chosen,” the voice of God says. “Listen to Jesus.” We might note that the story of transfiguration appears to happen in those two parts: the first, during a moment of introspection and prayer that is perhaps meant mainly for Jesus himself, to clarify who he is to God and the world. And the second, a booming voice that must have rung in Peter’s ears for days – for ever – a voice that feels meant for the disciples – and for us - to clarify who Jesus should be for us: the chosen voice of God on earth, whose gospel of tolerance and kindness and other-centredness we should heed. As with all epiphanies – this one, famous ones, our private ones – they don’t come out of the blue. They are truths that always existed but were waiting for us to discover. An apple falls from a tree, and Newton discovers gravity; but gravity existed before Newton figured it out. In Pride and Prejudice, Mr. Darcy was a good guy before Elizabeth Bennett realized it. The reluctant hero of popular culture was a hero well before they accepted the idea themselves. And Jesus, well we know, Jesus was chosen from the beginning. Jesus was always chosen by God. The moment on the mountain only reveals what was always true. The lesson of transfiguration Sunday, the last lesson of epiphany is a reminder to us to learn from those epiphany moments. They are truths we have already created, or that already existed, waiting to be found and faced, waiting to guide us forward. Because epiphanies reveal the truth, they are neutral in themselves. Sometimes they force upon us a truth we don’t want to accept but need to face. Waking up to Russia’s invading Ukraine was, for many of us, a moment of that kind of before- and-after clarity: the truth was always there, but we didn’t want it to be true; we wanted war to be peace. But it isn’t. We are in the changed afterward, and, whatever happens, we cannot go back. The disciples wanted to stay on that mountain, and who could blame them? Down on the ground, in the real world, were crowds of needy people. The pharisees were waiting there to persecute them. Down on the ground, in the not-so-distant future, was the cross at the very end of the road. And yet, they could not stay. They knew they could not stay. They had experienced an epiphany - a truth they had always known revealed in the transfiguration of Christ. That was now the only truth in the world that mattered to them, and it would shape them forever going forward. There is another important part in this story for us to remember as well. And it is this: Christ was not actually transfigured in that moment on the mountain; he had always been chosen by God. A truth was not created; it was revealed. It was the same for the disciples and it is the same for us: we are also chosen by God; we are also worthy. The epiphany - the transfiguration - happens for us when we realize it to be true. That moment happens at different times and in different stages in life - if we are open to it. As we leave Epiphany and begin the journey into what appears will be a hard and difficult, sorrow-filled Lent, what is the lesson to take from Transfiguration Sunday? When we are lucky, the truths revealed in an epiphany are easy and wonderful - revelations that lift life. But also when we are lucky, epiphanies show us the lie that couldn’t last and the truth we needed to hear; they become a new guidepost for us. Transfiguration Sunday is both: a revelation to lift our spirits – Jesus is chosen by God. And a guidepost to send us forth: Jesus is chosen by God. In the choosing of Jesus, so we are chosen. We cannot stop every war, we cannot feed everyone who is hungry, we cannot outsmart every false prophet who seeks to destroy for their own gain. But we can come down from the mountain and help where we can. The transfiguration of Christ in the end was not about God’s choosing Jesus; this was always true. It was not about God’s choosing us: this was also always true. The transfiguration is ultimately about this one important, this one essential follow-though. It reminds us again of what is true, and then sends us forth, down the mountain, into the mess of the world, to do our best to heal it. Amen.

February 20th, 2022

What does it mean to love our enemy? What is God really asking of us? These are important questions to ask during these days of fractious debate and conspiracy theories, when it seems as if we have lost the ability to listen to one another– even ourselves. Families are divided; friendships have been broken. This week a protestor was interviewed who reportedly felt so strongly about not being vaccinated that he had claimed to have chosen to stand by this position rather than be allowed to visit his 9-year-old daughter who was dying in hospital; instead he was protesting for “his freedom.” Whether or not this was true, he felt it was a reasonable position, even a sympathetic one. But of course, most of us hear that and weep for the daughter. How do you love such a father? When a small group of people are disrupting the lives, the property, the income, and the freedom of the majority, how can we love them? We aspire to Joseph’s example in our first lesson. As we know, Joseph was envied by his brothers for the favouritism they felt their father had shown him. Rather than get over it, however, they conspired to sell him into slavery and left him for dead. Years passed, and Joseph turned this dysfunctional family act into a strength. He chose not to be consumed with bitterness and thoughts of revenge, but with God’s guidance, looked forward to what he might accomplish with the life he had. This turned out to be quite a bit. Joseph became a kind and good leader. Then one day, his brothers appeared before him. They assumed, as they had earlier, that Joseph would use his power to destroy them. Instead, he forgave them and welcomed them back into his life. If that story feels fantastical, it may be because we are holding on to regrets, to slights we are finding it hard to forgive. But ultimately, I don’t think the point of that story is the moment that Joseph forgave his brothers; that was just the natural end to the choice he had made much earlier. That choice was to let go of his anger, of thoughts of revenge, or even hate; and focus on what he wanted to be in life and what he wanted to accomplish. Joseph chose to love God and to love himself, and in doing so, he was able not only to welcome his brothers, but even to give them land and make them successful. He was able to love his enemy. This is a reminder to us: loving someone who has truly wronged us is not a quick fix; it doesn’t happen overnight. Joseph’s journey took years; he grew from a boy into a man and found his place in the world. Did he feel anger sometimes? Did he dream of revenge? He was human, wasn’t he? But he chose to live more above the line; he chose to love himself and to extend that love to those around him; he practiced forgiveness long before he saw his brothers again. If forgiveness is the art of seeing that people, while not perfect, have value, then Joseph practiced it until it was the natural choice. I say this because I know that for many of us, wrongs run deep – indeed, the story of Joseph may trigger thoughts of family or friends who have been unkind or cruel in your own lives. The first lesson may leave the impression that the journey of Joseph was swift and easy; but we know, of course, that it was the opposite. But by not focusing on the past, by deciding who he wanted to be in the future, he found his way to forgiveness. Perhaps, in these times of conflict, both personal and societal, we also need to ask, who is our enemy? In Joseph’s case, is the enemy actually his brothers, or is it the envy that poisoned them? Is the enemy the protest downtown -- the people -- or is it the brokenness in our society that makes people feel they can’t belong, the ignorance and intolerance that foster hate and racism? If those things are the true enemy, then our focus, like Joseph’s, must also shift: what future do want, and how - having vanquished these enemies of envy, ignorance, and intolerance – shall we create it? Even so, the instruction from Jesus in our gospel smarts a little: so if someone punches me, I turned the other cheek so they can punch me again? If someone steals my coat, I am to give him my shirt? What foolishness is this? Yet, what is Jesus really saying? He is reminding us that aggression, when met with aggression, leads only to more aggression. When we have the choice – the option to walk away – we should take it. But Jesus goes one step further – he gives us the great challenge. If we love the ones whom we see as family, that is good, but nothing special; of course we love them. We must also love those we see as beyond the pale, those who hassle and disrupt our lives, those who cause us pain. The reason lies with Joseph, who had decided to live a Godly life, and who, when his brothers came, was able to forgive them. That failure to forgive would not only have dragged Joseph down; it would also have prevented him from accomplishing great things. The loss would have been two-fold: Pain for Joseph; and the absence of grace in the world. Joseph’s brothers, having been forgiven, have the same chance now – to let go of the past, and live a new future. That is the circle of the gospel. So Jesus was not burdening us; he meant to release us. The message is there in his famous line: “Do to others what you would have them do to you.” It is spelled out for us: when we forgive, we are forgiven; when we give, we receive; when we do not judge, we are spared judgement. This is a lifelong practice; a goal to which we all must aspire. When we live up to it, as best we can, we spread the gospel circling all around us. Amen.