When Times Get Tough

This posting is another homily, from the second Sunday of Lent, with the gospel story of the Transfiguration. I've often pondered that "vision of glory," and I can remember times when I've had glimpses, visions, touches and tastes of glory. They're not only wonderful in themselves, but they have a sustaining power... for when times get tough.

The example I cite is obviously a very true example. In the end this homily is about the ability to be graceful and grace-filled in times of suffering.



2nd Sunday of Lent (C), March 4, 2007

Every year during Lent there’s a very familiar feel to the first two Sundays. The gospel for the first Sunday of Lent is always the story of the Temptation in the Desert, whether it’s from Matthew, Mark, or Luke. For me, it always reminds me of the humanity of Jesus… And because Jesus went through his temptation in the desert, it gives us encouragement for enduring the difficult parts of our humanity – our temptations, our weaknesses, our vulnerabilities.

Now likewise every year, whether it’s from Matthew, Mark, or Luke, the second Sunday in Lent brings us the story of the Transfiguration. For me, it’s a revelation of the divinity of Jesus. Jesus takes us not to the desert, but … to the mountaintop… where he is not tempted, but transformed before our eyes … his face changed, his clothes turned dazzling white. Moses and Elijah appear, and a Cloud envelops them all… and the Voice of God speaks from the cloud.

And what I love most about this passage, is that just as Christ’s Temptation reminds us that Jesus is one with us in our vulnerability and humanity, his Transfiguration reminds us that we are linked to his divinity. I don’t think that we think about that very much. In fact, we’ve probably been taught that to think like that is a sin, we should be more humble, if we think like that we are trying to make ourselves like God or something. Well, I’m not saying that – but I AM saying that we’re children of God, that we’re made in the image and likeness of God.

You know, there’s this great little prayer that used to be written in the missalettes, but I don’t think it’s there anymore; I couldn’t find it. It IS in the Sacramentary, that great big red book that the server holds for the priest, that goes on the altar for the Eucharistic Prayer. And this prayer is said during the Preparation of the Gifts; and it’s a prayer that the deacon says, unless of course he’s not there, and then the priest says it. I bless the water, pour a little wine into the wine, and I say this quiet prayer, “By the mystery of this water and wine may we come to share in the divinity of our Lord Jesus Christ, who humbled himself to share in our humanity.” We’re praying that we’ll share in the divinity of Christ!

This gospel today is a glimpse of the glory of who we are created to be as God’s children. And whatever our vocation, whatever our state of life, whatever our age, it is important for us to remember who we are. That vision will lead us to a rightful and wondrous destiny, and it will carry us through when times get tough.

When times get tough. I used those words on purpose, because … that’s really the key to understanding this gospel: tough times.

I hope you noticed what Moses and Elijah are talking about in this vision today. They are talking about Jesus’ “coming exodus” in Jerusalem. Isn’t that an odd phrase? Sometimes it gets translated as Jesus’ “departure,” or “passing,” or “completion.” It refers to his crucifixion and death. In fact, the whole context of this passage is that it takes place immediately after Jesus has first told his disciples that he is destined to suffer and die. He begins talking about taking up the cross – about letting go of our lives in order to save our lives. This is a key turning point in Luke’s gospel – it marks the end of Jesus ministry and teaching in Galilee, and the beginning of his journey towards Jerusalem: (turn to cross) this destiny. And his disciples? They wouldn’t believe it – none of them. They just couldn’t get their minds around the idea that the Messiah had to suffer and die.

And so Jesus takes them on this journey to the mountaintop. And his transfiguration unfolds even as Moses and Elijah are discussing with him the trials and humiliation and persecution to come. His glory is revealed even as they talk about the suffering and crucifixion and death that await him.

I’d like to share an experience that I had the privilege of sharing in this past week. Two weeks ago, you might remember that three young children in the area died from complications related to the flu. I think all of us who are parents know that something like that is our worst nightmare. I’m sure that you remember that one of the children who died was a second-grader at Laurelhurst Elementary, right down the street. But I’d like to tell the story of that third child, whose circumstances were not like the others. He was a young boy who had had health complications from the time of his birth, and so when he got the flu it was just too much for his body, and he died.

It turns out that that young boy was Luke Deacy, and his mother’s maiden name is Jill Sullivan, who grew up next door to our Rectory. Her family moved away at some point, but we kept in touch. I had the very good fortune to officiate at her wedding here at St. Bridget. And so it was a great sadness to hear that Luke had died.

This past Friday the family held a memorial service. And I can only begin to tell you about it. His parents knew from his time of birth that Luke would only be with them a few precious years. He nearly died as a baby – they gave him three years to live, then five. Well, Luke beat those odds. And Luke’s parents determined that they would not hold him back – they would not diminish for him the wonderful experience of what it means to be a child out of fear that he would be too fragile and vulnerable. And whenever there was a group of kids, gathered somewhere where they might be doing something a little … shall we say, “on the edge” … risky behavior – there you would find Luke. And he would be the ringleader! He lived life with a passion, a zest, a dance. He had beautifully wild curly hair and eyes that revealed a spirit bursting from within. He loved sports, reptiles, heroic Greek mythology, scary movies, anything fast, and Scoobie-doo. At his service his family offered stories and shared a collection of pictures and videos of a young boy whose body, whose eyes displayed a marvelous spirit soaring with the breath of life.

Well, it made us all cry that he was gone. All of our hearts went out to his parents and close friends for their loss. But we were all so inspired and uplifted to share in this celebration of his life, this affirmation of his vibrant spirit -- and we were all so grateful that he had been so loved and encouraged to life his life, so fully and freely. It was so right.

You know, we all face suffering and death. Perhaps not at this very moment, but we all will.

Like Jesus, we might face suffering as a result of a conscious choice we make, or a calling that we will not deny. I am reminded of our Christian heroes like Archbishop Romero who was martyred for standing with the poor of El Salvador, or Fr. Damian who served at the leper colony in Molokai and himself caught leprosy, or even our friend, Fr. Owen O’Donnell, who has caught malaria a number of times during his service in with the people of Namitembo, in Malawi. A great love can bring us into situations of great suffering. In these times, the memory and vision of ourselves as who we really are as glorified luminous beings, can give us the strength and courage, the faith and trust to face our trials.

But what is very certain is that each of us will certainly face sufferings that we do NOT choose. An accident – cancer, or other life-threatening illness – the relentless growing infirmities of advancing age – the death of someone we love. There is no family down at Children’s Hospital that chooses the illness that brings them there. But what they can choose, what we can choose, is how we will live with our sufferings. Even in our sufferings, we are still luminous beings.

The reason Jesus chose to go to Jerusalem, to take up his cross, was in order that we would know beyond any shadow of a doubt that in the end, suffering and even death itself cannot conquer us. Our destiny as children of the light goes beyond the grave – we are a part of God’s glory, now and always. And that vision can give us the grace to bear our hurts and our infirmities with trust in God and with love to those around us.

Deacon Denny Duffell