“Tune In”

Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7

Feb. 26, 2023

Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

Have you ever had the chance to observe an elementary school teacher at work? It's truly like witnessing magic happen right before your eyes. I can remember volunteering regularly in my child’s kindergarten and first grade classrooms and being absolutely astounded at how effortlessly the teachers got those young children to listen. 

I’d be there watching 25+ kids giggle and talk and move about the room working on projects and then hear the teacher say, in a fairly quiet tone, “Waterfall, waterfall.” and then 25 little voices would respond, “shhh, shhhh.” Or, “1, 2, 3 - eyes on me!” and then the response, “1, 2 - eyes on you!”

The teachers had a seemingly endless supply of quick and easy ways to help the kids tune in to whatever instruction they were about to give. One of my favorites is hearing a teacher call out, “Catch a bubble!” and then all the kids go (gesture of catching a bubble). 

Perhaps what we humans truly need is someone like an elementary school teacher to accompany us throughout our lives, helping us recognize when it's essential to be still and listen. Last week, we traveled to a mountaintop with Jesus, Peter, James, and John. The story goes that Jesus was transfigured before them and began to shine brightly. And then a voice came out of the heavens, “This is my beloved child. Listen to him!”

It reminds me of a teacher calling out, “Waterfall, waterfall….” in front of their class. 

“Listen to him!” Settle down. Get quiet. Eyes on Jesus. Pay attention to what’s coming next. 

The Bible is full of stories about where we place our attention. I find it somewhat comforting to realize that even before 24-7 news cycles and smartphones, our faith ancestors struggled just like we do to figure out where to place their attention. It can be hard to figure out who and what to listen to as we go about our days. The world is so very noisy and there are so many voices vying for our attention. 

The season of Lent is a time set aside for an intentional recalibration. Just as a teacher brings down the volume in a classroom by saying, “Friends, volume 2 please - indoor voices!” - the season of Lent beckons us into a season of awareness. 

When my children were babies we were taught to pay attention to their moods by watching their body language. One of our teachers taught us to watch for “quiet alert” time - when the baby was quiet but actively involved in paying attention to the world around them. Big eyes, open ears, taking in the world and learning. That’s how I think of Lent - “quiet alert” time. 

Our theme for Lent this year is Seeking and each week has a guiding question. This week’s question is “Who will you listen to?” It’s a question that comes up over and over again in our sacred texts and in our daily lives. 

Rev. Sarah Speed explores this question in her poem, “who will you listen to?”

who will you listen to?

Twitter or the BBC / the ads on late-night television / the wind as she blows / the echo of children playing / the quiet of snow / the ice bucket challenge / the phone when it rings / your pastor / your mother / your doctor / your gut / the tension in your shoulders / the restaurant singing happy birthday / audio books / TED talks / the rhythm of the music / the coffee drip in the morning / your therapist / the wisdom of the enneagram / the way your heart comes alive when you’re being creative / the man on the corner asking for change / the kid on the subway selling chocolate / the labels on the makeup bottle that promise timeless beauty / the magazines that tell you you need timeless beauty / astrology / the Dow Jones / the hiss of the radiator / the pitter patter of little feet / financial advisors / the top 40 pop / the top 40 country / the New York Times / the rumor mill / the Book of Psalms / your sense of self / Jesus, when he says, “I am with you, always.”

Our faith ancestors passed along stories of seeking and listening to us. We heard one of those stories just a few weeks ago when we traveled with Jesus into the wilderness where he was tempted by the Adversary. Who did Jesus choose to listen to? The Tempter who promised him wealth, power, prestige? His own voice? The words of scripture? A still small voice on the breeze? 

The story of Jesus in the wilderness takes place right at the beginning of his ministry, just after he’s baptized. There are strong parallels between that story and the one we heard this morning from Genesis. Both are origin stories - one story is about all humanity and the other about a single person named Jesus. Both grapple with themes of listening and temptation. 

It’s truly a shame that the story of Adam and Eve has mostly been reduced to a story about “original sin” and let’s-blame-it-all-on-Eve because it means that many of us have a lot of baggage with this story. We have a hard time listening to it at all because it’s only been taught to us in one way. But a lot of the baggage we carry with us wasn’t there in the original text.

For example, did you know that the very first human being that was created wasn’t named Adam at all? It’s true. When you see “Adam” in the text it’s the Hebrew word adam, which might be better translated as “earth creature.” I once heard a scholar translate it as “dirt dweller” which I kind of loved. It’s a human being, a person formed from dust and breath. But not gendered. A person existing outside the gender binary, it seems. And it is to this nonbinary person that God gives the instruction, “You can eat whatever you want in the garden EXCEPT this one tree which holds the knowledge of good and evil.”

It’s not until later that God separates adam, the earth creature, into two separate beings - male and female. And so, Eve wasn’t even created yet when the caution was given to avoid this particular tree. It’s kind of hard to listen when you’re not there, right? And yet she’s carried the blame for all these centuries. 

Further, it seems like Eve wasn’t the only one there listening when the serpent came with its temptations. After listening to the serpent we are told that Eve shares the fruit with the man, who has been there all along. If there is blame to be doled out, it seems both of the humans should share it. 

Though we honestly have to wonder exactly how much blame can even be given in this scenario, don’t we? I mean, did God really think it was wise to put a beautiful tree right there in the middle of the garden and then say, “Don’t touch it”? And if God created everything, where did this crafty serpent come from anyway? Hmmm? It seems Eden wasn’t quite as perfect as we’ve made it out to be, even from the beginning. 

If this is a story about what it means to be human, perhaps an appropriate takeaway is simply how challenging it is on existential and practical levels. We are made in God’s image - but we are not God. We are made to live in harmony with the earth and other animals - but we’re also a bit different than all of them. We are given so much freedom - but there are still things that aren’t good for us. We crave knowledge - but sometimes get more of it than we bargained for. We live - and yet we’re not going to live forever. We were born naked - but we’d rather cover up a bit, thank you very much. We can hear “the sound of the Lord God walking in the garden at the time of the evening breeze” - and we can also hear the voice of crafty and wise serpents who slither up to us full of good ideas. 

You know, it’s not so surprising that the humans listened to the serpent. Rev. Danielle Shroyer points out that “in the ancient world, snakes were a symbol of transformation. Their venom held the possibility of both poison and medicine.” [1] Sometimes it can be very difficult to tell the difference between poison and medicine, can’t it? Will this heal me or hurt me? Make it feel better for a moment or for good? 

I imagine Jesus was grappling with those same questions when he was in the wilderness. Because the Adversary in that story came bearing venom that could have easily been poison or medicine, too. Deciding who to listen to is something that’s can be really challenging. Even Jesus struggled to figure out where to place his attention. 

This artwork by Lisle Gwynn Garrity, “Tune In,” is such a powerful depiction of what it looks like to listen. The artist says, “In this image, the words of the Tempter hover in the background. The Tempter’s voice lingers like a ringing in Jesus’ ears, saying: ‘Take charge. Hoard your power. Dominate. Control.’ Somehow, Jesus has deciphered that these words are simply background noise. He closes his eyes and goes inward, wrapping himself in a posture of self-embrace.” [2] 

You can feel the peace just radiating from this art, can’t you? He’s tuned in. And the noise is tuned out. This image is a visual representation of the answer to that question, “Who will you listen to?” Jesus is fully attuned to the Spirit’s voice here. It’s an image of what we humans can look like when we remember, at a cellular level, that we are created in God’s image and we were made to tune our hearts to the One whose voice is love. 

Lent is a time for listening. A time for seeking. It’s a time for questions and growth. A time for pondering and curiosity. It’s a time to be like that baby on their back, intently looking around the room with wide-open eyes - quiet alert. 

And we don’t go into this season alone. We journey alongside the one who came to show us what it looks like to live our lives abundantly. Christ is our guide. Tuned in. A teacher standing at the front of the classroom of life saying, “1, 2, 3, eyes on me - 1, 2, eyes on you.”

Thanks be to God for ears to hear and teachers to guide. 

NOTES:

[1] Sanctified Art devotional. 

[2] Sanctified Art artist’s statement. 

“Shine Bright”

Matthew 16:24-17:8

Feb. 19, 2023

Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

There’s something about mountains, isn’t there? Maybe it’s just that I’m a born-and-raised Kansan, but I confess that I find them to be a bit magical. When you’re driving west on I-70 for, oh, 342 hours, you eventually start to see something off in the distance, right? Might be a cloud. Might be a floater in your eye. But it MIGHT be a mountain. Finally! My mom says that when she was a little girl and they would make that drive every summer, her dad would exclaim from the driver’s seat, “Look! It’s the mounties!”

Yep. That joy is how it feels. No matter how many times I’ve made that drive, my heart still skips a beat when I see the mountains up ahead, getting bigger and bigger. 

It’s so fascinating to me how you can see the discrete mounds when they’re far off, but once you’re in the foothills you can’t quite get a sense of where you are in space. Like, are you ON the mountain yet or not? It can be hard to tell. 

There’s something about mountains that can feel disorienting. They sneak up on you. Here in Manhattan we’re at about 3000 miles above sea level. By the time you reach the Colorado border, you’ve climbed about 2500 feet but you’ve hardly noticed. When you make it to Denver, you’re a whole mile above sea level. Keep going and the mountains that have been arriving gradually will suddenly start to feel HAPPEN. 

Mountains are beautiful but also a force to be reckoned with. They inspire awe but also discomfort and fear. I can remember taking our kids on vacation to Colorado when they were  younger and praying they wouldn’t notice the bear guards on the outdoor trash cans because I knew we’d never get any sleep if they were worried about bears breaking into our Airbnb all night long! 

I don’t personally have the best luck with mountains. When I was a teenager, I tried my hand at skiing, only to find myself tangled up in a couple of trees. I’ve been quite grumpy when stupidly planning a spring break trip to Colorado only to be surprised by a foot of snow. And I have a hard time sleeping in Winter Park because the elevation is so extreme my lungs start to feel constricted and I get panicked. 

So when the disciples have this experience with Jesus that is memorable, mystical, awe-inspiring, and perhaps a bit terrifying, I suppose we shouldn’t be too surprised that it happens on a mountain, huh? Those of us who are familiar with the Bible know that mountains are places where God is expected to show up and maybe even show off. 

Noah and his family finally get off the ark after washing up on Mount Ararat. Abraham, of course, had a harrowing experience with Isaac on Mount Moriah and heard God’s voice clearly there. Moses traipses up and down Mount Sinai to receive messages to share with the Israelites. Many years later, Moses looked down upon the promised land from atop Mount Nebo, seeing that yet-to-be-fulfilled promise that he had been chasing his entire life. Elijah had some high drama Mount Carmel, facing off against the prophets of Baal. And later, Elijah fled to Mount Sinai where he heard God’s voice in the silence while hiding in a cave. 

Jesus also knew the mountains. He was tempted on a high mountain, looking out over the expanse of the world below. He called his disciples on a mountain. Jesus taught and fed the multitudes on mountains, too. He retreated to the mountains when he needed to be alone with God. 

Today Jesus is on another mountain. Peter, James, and John are with him. They’ve just heard Jesus warn them about the upcoming challenges they are about to face. The scene feels heavy, perhaps even a bit hopeless. 

But then something happens. And it’s breathtaking in all the good and scary ways. Jesus is somehow transfigured before them. His face shines like the sun, or, perhaps, if you still have Rihanna’s Super Bowl Halftime show stuck in your head, he was shining “bright like a diamond.”

This is not the first shiny mountaintop situation in the Bible. We are supposed to immediately think of Moses here, whose face shone after meeting with God on Mt. Sinai. 19th century preacher Charles Spurgeon describes Moses as the moon to God’s sun - reflecting the light that he absorbed when in the presence of the Holy One. [1] Moses’s face was so bright that he made people uncomfortable. And so he wore a veil when he was down among the people and then removed it when he went back up to talk to God. Kind of like a little solar panel, I guess, absorbing God’s energy and then releasing it in little bits to the people as they could handle it. 

It seems that this reflection of God’s electric countenance is something to be handled carefully. It certainly freaks the disciples out. They see Jesus shining bright like a diamond and then, suddenly, in case we missed the connections to Moses and Elijah, the Spirit makes sure they’re abundantly clear, with visions of Moses and Elijah appearing beside him. All of this is a bit too much for the witnesses. Peter, overwhelmed, says the only thing that pops into his head, “Lord, it’s good to be here. If you’d like, I can make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”

Poor Peter has taken a lot of flak over the centuries for his reaction. After all, if Jesus has these supernatural qualities, he’s probably not really much in need of a roof over his head, right? And certainly Moses and Elijah, who must be ghosts or spirits or somesuch, also don’t need cover. BUT the word Peter uses there isn’t just any old tent or dwelling. It’s a word that evokes the holy tabernacle of God - a place where the Divine lives. And in this way, what Peter says makes perfect sense to me. He’s aware that something truly amazing is happening and he wants to honor it by marking it as holy. I also can’t say that I blame him for wanting to stay put. Here he is, up on a mountain with three of the greatest teachers and prophets the world has ever known. Can you blame a guy for wanting to press pause?

But these mountains - man, they just don’t quit. They aren’t meant to be places of comfort and ease. 

No one even answers poor Peter’s question. Instead, the story goes that they hear a voice booming from the heavens, “This is my Son, the beloved. Listen to him.”

Careful listeners might recognize these words. Any takers? 

That’s right. Those are the same words we’re told came from the heavens when Jesus was baptized. But this time with one addition: “Listen to him.”

And what does Jesus say right after that admonition? He looks at the disciples, who have fallen to the ground in a heap of awed shock. He says, “Get up and do not be afraid.”

The disciples are going to need all the courage they can muster. Just as Jesus was sent forth from blessing into the wilderness at the beginning of Matthew’s Gospel, the disciples are coming down from this mountaintop experience into a time of chaos, pain, violence, and agony. They are going to need all the certainty of faith they feel in this moment to make it through the challenges that are coming next. 

This is one of those stories that might seem like it’s from a long ago time and far away place. Perhaps you’re scoffing a bit because you’ve never seen anyone shine as bright as the sun and you’re not much into ghosts. Maybe you’ve never heard a voice boom out of the heavens so you’re not sure what to do with that information. 

But maybe, just maybe, you’re a person who can find a bit of resonance here, whether you’d admit it out loud or not. Maybe you wouldn’t quite call it mystical, but you’re not exactly a stranger to puzzling experiences that leave you wondering. It may have been a still, small voice inside rather than a booming voice from the sky. Maybe you saw someone exuding a light that seemed truly awe-some, even if it wasn’t quite as shiny as Moses. Maybe you’ve simply felt something significant when the breeze and warm sun touched your shoulders while you were sitting by a mountain stream. 

I don’t pretend to know enough about how God moves to understand why some people have these visceral experiences of a Divine presence often while others may never have them at all. I do know that, at this point, I’ve heard enough stories of people experiencing God’s presence that they don’t shock me. They just make me smile and lean forward in curiosity. 

Maybe Charles Spurgeon had it right: the Spirit continues to shine like the sun and, if we’re lucky, we catch glimpses of the light reflected in the world around us. 

And maybe Rihanna is right too, “You and I, you and I - We're like diamonds in the sky.”

And so, as we move from this season of Epiphany into Lent - a time of seeking - my prayer is that we will all keep looking for the light, keep shining bright, and never stop seeking the Spirit in our midst. We pray this, hopefully, in the name of the one who came to shine a light so bright that the darkness has not overcome it. 

Thanks be to God. Amen. 

 NOTES:

[1] https://www.spurgeon.org/resource-library/sermons/the-shining-of-the-face-of-moses/#flipbook/