Sermon Ponderings

Readings for February 14, 2010

The roots of Valentine’s Day are hazy and obscure – the day has more cache as a Hallmark holiday than anything else. Wikipedia says there were a host of early Christian martyrs named Valentine – probably Feb 14 was chosen in honour of a priest who died in 270 and was canonized in 475 … but there was no connection between that Valentine (or any other) and romantic love till the time of Chaucer (1382). Giving “valentines” to one’s lover became very popular in the 18th and 19th centuries, and has become overly commercialized and sentimentalized since then. Historically we’re on very very shaky ground here!

For me Valentine’s Day conjures up memories of cartoon character cut-outs shared at school – when it was necessary to give “a valentine” to everybody in the class – which always seemed to rob the whole experience of any meaning. After all, if everyone is your valentine, does that mean that you have a “special” relationship with nobody?

For adults Valentine’s Day is a double-edged sword – largely because our intimate relationships are the things that can bring both the greatest joy and the greatest pain to our lives. For those in an intimate relationship that truly feeds their souls, it’s a joyful opportunity to celebrate that. For those who long to be but aren’t; for those who used to be and are no longer; for those whose “valentine” has died, or left them, or hurt them, or abused them … this is a day to avoid at all costs.

On this day, of all days, we’re invited to read the story of the Transfiguration, and the story of Moses with the stone tablets in his hands and his face shining with the glory of God. The connection is accidental – the Lectionary writers didn’t intend to make us read these texts on Valentine’s Day – but it’s an interesting coincidence.

It’s interesting because Valentine’s Day reminds me of how powerfully love transforms us when it’s present and pure; how powerfully we long for it when it’s absent or broken or perverted. Is the Transfiguration of Jesus somewhat akin to the way that young lovers “glow” with the excitement of new love? Is the glory on Moses’ face somehow similar to the radiance we experience when we feel deeply and truly known and appreciated and delighted in? Is the common human experience that gets so sentimentalized or trivialized on Valentines’ Day actually itself a pale copy of an even deeper encounter with the Source of Love and Radiance and Delight? Can it be that human beings are invited into a relationship with the Divine that has the power to draw us into something transcendent and breath-taking?

In a way God is sending a Valentine to the world, in both the story of Moses and the story of Jesus transfigured. In each case, God reaches through the barrier that separates us from the Divine; in each case there is light and joy and hope that comes from being met and known so deeply; in each case God says to the people around those remarkable leaders, “Will you be mine?”

Readings for Sunday Feb 7, 2010

I was in the church on a Sunday afternoon a few weeks ago, overhearing my Pentecostal colleague preaching about power. A Filipino Pentecostal church uses our space on Sunday afternoons, and I’m usually long gone by then, but this week I was intrigued. I didn’t hear the whole sermon; didn’t really agree with a lot of the theology of it; and felt uncomfortable with the high emotionalism of the style of preaching – I guess it’s a good thing that we have different styles of churches because I’m sure those folks would feel as uncomfortable with my preaching as I do with theirs! But I was struck by the preacher’s insistence on power. God’s power. God’s power which is available to us if we call on it. God’s power which transforms everything. God’s power which will empower us. God’s power which will make everything better. When we feel powerless, we need to reach for God’s power.

Judging from the way the preacher harangued the congregation, those folks frequently feel powerless.

So do I.

In my rationalistic, post-modern 21st century way, I too wonder about the power of God, and about feeling powerless. With all the authority that people like me grant to science, rationalism, psychology and medicine – authority which is well earned, I think – what’s left for the power of God to do? Do we even believe in the power of God any more? If so, what’s like? What does it do? What difference does the power of God make to the world?

Someone was telling me recently about going to see the movie “Legion.” According to the trailer, here’s the premise: the last time God lost faith in the world he sent a flood; this time he’s sending a legion of angels. It seems to be a movie about human beings can fight back against the power of a wrathful and disappointed God.

I haven’t seen the movie; don’t really want to. But I’m fascinated by how our 21st century post-modern imaginations are still captured by the idea of an angry destructive deity who wants to hurt us. All too often, “power” is simply short for “power to destroy.” Power on the silver screen is shown with explosions, earthquakes, tsunamis and buildings crashing to the ground. The power of God is most obvious in apocalyptic imagery. And the power of human beings is shown in exactly the same ways.

When we feel powerless to change things, we reach for that which seems most powerful.

The fascinating thing about the Legion trailer is that the human beings think they can fight the angels. They think they can stand up against that kind of super-human destructive force, and actually preserve something worth saving about humanity. In the same way, the hero of Harry Potter is the boy, not the wise wizard; the “good guys” in Avatar are the peasants with bows and arrows up against a science-fiction army with laser weapons. There’s a theme running through here – that a different kind of power can confront the super-human destructive forces that appear so domineering.

That’s the kind of power I see operating in today’s lesson from Luke. The power of God is the power to bring abundance into the midst of scarcity – to fill the fishing nets that were empty all night; to transform water into wine; to transform 5 loaves and two fish into enough for 5000. It’s the power to inspire people to discover ways to engage the destructive forces in creative and life-giving ways. It’s the power that grows out of weakness; the power that is life-giving rather than soul-destroying.

If God’s power is to send angels to destroy the world … I too would rather side with the humans who want to fight it. But if God’s power is to ensure that everyone has enough fish to eat … and if that’s the power that can be marshalled against the destructive force of laser beams and CGI explosions … then let the power fall on me!