You are called to these practices to deepen your faith journey so you are a blessing and hope in the world, water in a desert.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
Ash Wednesday
Texts: Isaiah 58:1-12; Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21; 2 Corinthians 5:20b – 6:10

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Should we be doing what we’re doing here tonight?

If you listen carefully to our readings you might get the distinct impression that both the prophet and the Son of God discourage outward signs of repentance such as we do tonight.

Jesus warns against those who mark their faces when they fast to so others know they’re doing it. Isaiah’s people are doing the familiar repentance ritual of putting on burlap clothes and pouring ashes over their heads. And God says: is that what you call acceptable to me?

Yet at the center of this liturgy we will confess our sins, and have ashes placed on our foreheads. It’s not pouring a bucket over our heads, but it’s definitely marking our face.

Remember this, though. The people who created the lectionary were pretty smart people. They could read. They saw Isaiah 58 and wanted it read today. They remembered Jesus’ words in the Sermon on the Mount and thought, “that’s the Gospel reading.”

So maybe there’s something deeper here we’re missing.

The three spiritual practices Jesus names form our great Lenten call, to which you’re invited tonight.

The giving of alms he names first, sharing your wealth to help your neighbor in need, then prayer, and finally fasting. All of these Jesus encourages, endorses.

Just do them for the right reasons, Jesus says. Don’t do them to impress others. If you’re doing spiritual practices, walking your baptismal journey, don’t do it so others can see you and admire you. So if you’re getting ashes today so you can show people how pious you are, or if you really want to go out with friends without washing your forehead, Jesus suggests you re-think your motivation.

But if this Lenten journey, begun in confession and the mark of ashes, realigns you with God and God’s call to you, that’s good. Fasting, prayer and giving of alms are deeply important things to do, because that’s the way to life.

And that’s exactly what God says through Isaiah.

The people in their burlap sacks, with ashes falling off their hair, face, and head, complain that God doesn’t even notice them.

But God says, I don’t care about sackcloth and ashes. That’s not a proper fast. The fast I want is that you invite homeless people into your home. I’ll notice that. Loose the bonds of injustice in your world, help the oppressed go free? I will see and rejoice in that. Provide food to those who hunger and clothes to those who have none, and your life will be like a light breaking forth at dawn, God says. I will definitely see that.

Giving up something for Lent, as we do, isn’t a true fast for God, either. True fasting is rejoining God’s way and life to be a blessing to others.

These are some of the most beautiful verses in Scripture.

The joy God promises you and me comes when we find our spiritual journey in being God’s blessing and care for others. When you become God’s light in the shadows of this world. When you are a watered garden, abundant blessing to others who are fed by your goodness and kindness. When you’re like a spring of water that never fails, God says.

That’s the goal of our Lenten disciplines, our Lenten journey. That in giving alms, in prayer, in fasting as God hopes we fast, we become more and more a blessing to our neighbors and our world. And find blessing and life in return.

There’s one more thing to know: you are definitely going to die.

When you receive ashes, you’ll be reminded of this. “Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” That sounds depressing.

But Jesus and the prophet don’t see that. The joy that comes from realigning with God’s priorities and hopes, with God’s love for all people, isn’t lost by the realization you’re going to die, it’s deepened.

That remembering gives you hope. And direction. If you live in the absolute truth that your time is limited, even if your end is after many more years to come, you have the incentive to seek the joy of your baptismal journey right now. To take advantage of today because no one promised you tomorrow.

Tonight we begin our yearly renewal of our baptismal calling.

And what Isaiah dearly hopes, what Christ Jesus longs to see, is that what we practice in these weeks becomes our pattern, the shape of your whole life. That in doing these things you live fully into the truth that you are a beloved child of God, called to bear God’s love and life into the world. To be a lush, watered garden, a spring of water for your world.

And since you will die some day, today’s the day to get started. Now’s the time, Paul says. Give alms. Pray. Fast. And you will see the joy spring out of your heart and pour into the world for the hope of all.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

There are two hills where Jesus stands, and two lights: it’s the second one outside the city that matters to you and the universe, not today’s hill.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Transfiguration of Our Lord, year B
Text: Mark 9:2-9 (plus 10)

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Jesus must have had a subpar marketing department.

Everything about how this event was handled seems like a mistake.

If you’re going to reveal your true divine glory, competent marketing people would tell you to invite the money, the folks who fund your mission, to convince them. Jesus should have invited Joanna and Susanna and Mary Magdalene up this hill. They and a bunch of other unnamed women disciples were the financial backers of this whole operation.

Or, good marketers might suggest, invite the ones working against you. Dramatically put the fear of God into them so they come over to your side. Also you’ve got Israel’s two great heroes, Moses and Elijah right there, affirming you’re legitimate. Jesus should have invited the scribes and Pharisees.

But he only invites Peter, James, and John. For no known reason, except they seem to be among the leaders. And worst of all, he forbids them from saying anything to anyone about what they’d seen. He shuts down all media concerning this event, until he has risen from the dead.

It’s a massive contrast with the other hill Jesus will soon climb.

On this second hill, outside Jerusalem, he will again meet with two people. But this time they’re two criminals, not great leaders of Judaism, and they’ll all be hanging on crosses.

This time Jesus doesn’t get to invite who comes, or insist on silence. Everyone in Jerusalem can see if they want. It’s a public spectacle.

And this time, instead of glowing with divine light, Jesus is naked, bloody, beaten, humiliated.

This is the revelation that everyone sees, the Jesus the world experiences. Someone doesn’t seem to have paid very careful attention to the visuals of these two events.

We certainly would like to see something like the first hill.

Moses and Elijah, and Jesus glowing like the sun in all his divine glory. Wouldn’t our faith be stronger if we’d see something like that?

Well, my mother had a vision of Jesus. She and my father were discussing marriage on a bench by Lake Phalen in St. Paul. There were real challenges they faced. And she looked up and saw Jesus, and immediately was at peace, and the decision was made. I asked her where he was, was it just his face, how did she know it was Jesus, what did he look like? She never could answer that – visions are hard to retell.

But I realized long ago it didn’t bother me that I’ve never had a vision like that. Like the choice of Peter and the others, I have no idea why Jesus appeared to my mother. And while it changed her life, in truth, her vision was never the core of her faith.

What my mother witnessed to me again and again was the unconditional love of God. She trusted it fervently and lived it. My father taught me to love theology, to think critically, to care for words, especially words of faith. My mother taught me God’s love.

But my mother’s theology of grace wasn’t related to her vision. It was grounded in the love of God in Christ that she knew from her deep and long study of Scripture, and their regular worship and devotional life. Her trust in God’s love came from that other hill.

See, there really wasn’t a marketing failure.

The important hill to see is the public one. The vision to see is the humiliating, bloody one. That is, if you really want to know what God is doing in Christ. Any theophany worth its salt will have the god-figure glowing and shining. In mythology and world religions, events like the Transfiguration are a dime-a-dozen.

But no one would expect God to come in person and die on that hill outside the city. But it’s the only thing that truly reveals God.

In Mark only three times does someone call Jesus the Son of God. First, a voice from the heavens at his baptism, just for Jesus’ ears, “you are my beloved Son, I am well pleased with you.” Second was here, this time saying for witnesses to hear “This is my beloved Son, listen to him!”

But the third time it wasn’t from the heavens. It was from the earth, from one of us. That’s how you know this is the hill to watch. The third time it’s a Roman centurion who recognizes God when he sees how Jesus died. Somehow this foreigner who knew nothing of the God of Israel, said, “Truly this man was the Son of God.” And this is your sign: this is where you’ll also recognize God.

The light shining from the cross is the true light to look for.

It’s not a shiny god-moment like today’s Gospel. There’s a reason Jesus didn’t want people to talk about the Transfiguration until they’d seen him die and rise. Because the light that shines from the darkness of the cross reveals God’s true identity.

It pierces the love of God into every shadow and every evil in the world. It exposes evil to the truth of God’s love, a love that will die just to bring you and me and all people and all things and the whole creation back into the life of the Trinity. There’s not much to learn from a God who can glow on a mountain. But the life of the universe depends on the true God offering God’s own life at the cross.

God’s love seen here is vulnerable, self-giving, and it transforms. It brings about Jesus’ resurrection and yours. This cross-shining light of love heals your heart of your pain and sorrow, forgives your sin and evil, holds you now and always in peace.

And this cross-shining light of love empowers you to offer yourself in love to this world. Jesus never told anyone to keep silent about this light. Instead, he said to all who would follow: bear this in your heart, in your body, into the world. It will be your life, and you will bring healing to my broken world for me.

So, you didn’t miss anything by missing this light show.

It just isn’t that important for you or me or the world. It actually seems that the importance of the Transfiguration was for Jesus. He needed Moses and Elijah’s encouragement and support as he turned his face to that second hill.

And as we begin our Lenten journey this week, practicing our baptismal calling, we also remember where we are headed, to the hill that really matters. But you’ve already seen it, been changed by it, shaped by it. So, even now you and I can bear that cross-shining light into the shadows that surround our world. And watch the love of God transform us and all things.

In the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen