The Rev’d Stephen C. Holton
Christ Church, New Haven, Conn.
The Last Sunday after the Epiphany
February 23, 2020
Today is the last Sunday after Epiphany, the Sunday before Ash Wednesday. We’ll say our last Alleluias this Sunday. On Tuesday we’ll gather and use up all the tempting fat and sugar in the larder by making pancakes for our Shrove Tuesday supper together. We’ll burn the palms used in rejoicing on Palm Sunday last year and use the ashes to mark our foreheads with the sign of the cross the next day, Ash Wednesday, and our Lenten fast will begin.
We set aside these forty days each year, this time between Epiphany, the recognition of God’s revelation in Jesus Christ breaking into the world, and the Easter Triduum--Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter itself--the time when we mark Christ’s sacrifice--his death--and his resurrection--those saving acts that bring us new life, joined to him, drawn into the sacred heart of God. We set aside this time to pray, to fast, to examine our lives and repent. It’s a time to focus on sin--the things that separate us from God, the things that keep us from being the thing in creation that God has made us to be. The things we do--the things done to us--and the things done on our behalf.
Perhaps it seems strange--to have a season to stop and look at sin, at evil in the world. Shouldn’t we pay attention to the good things around us? If we focus on sin, on evil, on the things that are wrong, what if we become overwhelmed or lose sight and perspective of what’s good? Why would we spend a season, a time in the wilderness as it were, looking at sin and its consequences?
Won’t we just get depressed, throw in the towel, lose our sense of joy and wonder in the world if we look at what’s wrong? Won’t we lose our sense of self confidence if we look at what’s wrong with ourselves? Won’t we just dissolve into puddle of guilt and shame if we acknowledge our own sin--how we fail to love God, and how we fail to love others--or even ourselves?
That’s not really how self-examination works, is it, and it’s not how Lent works.
To be fair, if we failed to examine the evil in the world, if we failed to acknowledge the impact of sin on our lives, on those around us, on all of creation, we’d be living a lie--sticking our heads in the sand, as the expression goes--ignoring the truth of the world around us.
All we need do is open the paper, turn on the news, listen to a podcast of the day’s headlines to know that things are broken. That there is real sin in the world. All we need to is spend a moment alone with ourselves in quiet contemplation to know the effect sin has had on our own lives--and the effects of the sin that we’ve committed against God and one another. It can seem overwhelming.
As a break from the overwhelming grind of this year’s news, I took a detour last week to read a column in the Times that caught my eye. Psychologist Lisa Damour, a regular contributor to CBS News and The New York Times, wrote a piece called “Why Teenagers Reject Parents’ Solutions to Their Problems.”[1] Being neither a parent nor a teenager I of course found this column interesting; I’m always glad to know more about how other people should be raising their children.
But Damour had useful things to say--things that are applicable to more than just a parent-child relationship--things that are applicable to all of us. She pointed out that when a young adult comes to a parent and complains about something, that an instinct to immediately try and fix the problem may actually backfire and send the signal that the child is not capable of solving her or his own problem. That is, a well-meaning desire to make the world better for a child may end up leading to unintentionally squelching the child’s own development.
Instead, Damour suggests three things:
First, that young people want a chance to talk through whatever problems they’re facing. In verbalizing what’s going on, they can organize their own thoughts and make a plan about what to do next. They want to talk.
Secondly, they want to be heard. Young people want to know that parents hear and are taking seriously their concerns. “Yes, that’s really tough.” “I hear you.” “No wonder you’re upset!” A little empathy goes a long way to affirming the young person’s reality.
And finally, a little encouragement works wonders. “That’s a hard situation, but you’ve come through harder things before.” Showing confidence in a young person gives them permission to get through the situation, to take steps for change. Encouragement helps bridge the hard spots when things are tough and helps build self confidence.
After using those tools, Damour says, parents can ask, Do you want my help? And listen to their child’s response.
Listen. Encourage. Build up. Empathize.
All of these things are really about the feeling the child has of being seen. Are my problems taken seriously? Am I being heard? Does my parent believe I am capable? Will I be okay?
I think that’s what all of us are really looking for. To be seen. To be known. To be heard. To know that we will be okay.
Am I seen? Will I be okay?
There’s a danger in the work that we do in Lent of looking at sin--in the world and in our own lives. Perhaps we’ll feel overwhelmed by the evil in the world, incapable of vanquishing it on our own. Perhaps we’ll feel discouraged or shamed when we acknowledge our own sin--that we can’t live differently, that we can’t be good enough. That we’ve failed.
And into that breach, into that place of shame and fear, our Lord comes.
That’s the story of Epiphany, isn’t it--that Jesus comes among us--the very love of God enfleshed and made human--and creation begins to know--regular people, shepherds and kings, begin to learn that God has broken into God’s own creation. That the Son of God is here.
At his birth when the angels sang to the shepherds, at the arrival of the three kings, at his baptism when the voice of God spoke and announced, “This is my Son, the beloved, with whom I am well pleased…”(Mt 3.17)
The story of the Transfiguration is the high point, the culmination, of this tale of revelation. Jesus’s disciples, Peter and John and James, go up a mountain with Jesus, and there they have a vision--a vision of Jesus shining, resplendent, even his clothes dazzling white--luminous. And in that space, in the intensity of the light, Moses and Elijah appear, and they talk with Jesus. Suddenly a voice proclaims, just as at his baptism, “’This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!’ When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear.” (Mt 17.5-6)
Why do the disciples fall to the ground?
I always think that it’s probably because the event of the transfiguration--seeing Moses and Elijah--seeing Jesus’s face, luminous, shining, his clothes burning white--that amazing moment that seems so unusual and supernatural--that must be frightening. That’s what’s knocked them to the ground, that’s what’s shocked them, made them turn their faces and cover their eyes.
But what if it’s something different.
What if, in the burning light of Jesus’s clothes and face, his own body, suddenly they see the darkness that creeps in the world, that inhabits the lives they live, the broken sinfulness of the world in the light of his perfect love. What if they fall to the ground and cover their eyes in fear and despair--not fear of their friend, not fear of Moses and Elijah whom they know--all these are beacons of hope! What if they fall down in fear of the world around them--in fear of themselves--in fear of how they’ve fallen short of the kingdom of God that Jesus has revealed to them--in his life, and all in an instant, in this flash of blazing light.
That’s our fear, isn’t it, in looking at the world around us--in examining our own sinfulness. That it may be too much. That it may overwhelm and crush us. That the evil of the world may do us in. That we may die.
“But Jesus came and touched them, saying, ‘Get up and do not be afraid.’ And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.” (Mt 17.7)
All we want is to be seen. All we need is to be fully known--and yet fully loved.
And in that moment of fear, in that moment of panic, as they lay on the ground and covered their faces, the disciples saw Jesus again for the first time as he walked over, touched them, and said, “Get up and do not be afraid.”
Can’t you imagine him extending a hand, pulling Peter, and then James, and then John up from the ground. Reaching out his arms in love and embracing each, pulling them close.
And in that moment, all the fear of evil, the fear of failure, the fear of brokenness, the fear of death falls away as they rest in the arms of their friend who loves them.
Lisa Damour is right. When we go to someone with a problem we first want to be heard; the first step in getting to a solution is telling the story--being heard--finding acceptance and love.
Because only then can we open up and look honestly at the situation.
Only then can we look honestly at ourselves.
And only then can we find hope for change.
That’s what the story of the Transfiguration is saying to me today. That Jesus has come among us--that the love of God has assumed human form and has hiked up that mountain with us--and when we look down around us and see the brokenness of the world--the brokenness of our own lives--when we fall to the ground in fear and anxiety and grief--that the hand of Jesus reaches out, and touches our shoulder, and grasps us by the hand, and pulls us up close--and then into an embrace of total and perfect love.
Friends, the work of Lent is hard. The work of honesty is hard. The work of the Christian life is hard.
And we can do it--because he has first loved us.
As we enter into Lent I invite you to look fearlessly at the sin of the world about us. I invite us to look at our own sin. How is it that we have separated ourselves from God? How have we separated ourselves from one another? How is it that we have hurt ourselves?
What will it take to love God totally, fearlessly, fully? What will it take to love one another with all we are and all we have? What will it take to love ourselves?
You are seen. You are heard. So let’s look honestly at those things that tear us and all creation down. Without fear. Because the Lord is at our side, offering perfect acceptance, perfect love.
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[1] https://www.nytimes.com/2020/02/18/well/family/why-teenagers-reject-parents-solutions-to-their-problems.html?action=click&auth=login-email&login=email&module=Features&pgtype=Homepage (last accessed 2/21/2020)