Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church on March 2, 2025
You’re invited to Ash Wednesday on March 5. Come get ashy at noon or 7 p.m. or find ashes at a church near you. Ashes are a sign of mortality and fill us with wonder about the precious gift of life.
[sermon ends after two readings]
2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2 (I shortened it here to get to the main point)
Therefore, since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart. 2 We have renounced the shameful things that one hides; we refuse to practice cunning or to falsify God’s word; but by the open statement of the truth we commend ourselves to the conscience of everyone in the sight of God.
Luke 9:28-36 (Jesus’ Transfiguration)
Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. 29 And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. 30 Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. 31 They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. 32 Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. 33 Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah”—not knowing what he said. 34 While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. 35 Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” 36 When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.
[sermon begins]
Contrary to what you might imagine, there are occasional Sundays when this church geek wonders if there’s enough energy for worship plus whatever else is happening that morning. It could have been a long week or I just didn’t sleep well or pastoral care has left me brokenhearted or there are too many family logistics. The reasons don’t much matter. Then, I get to church. Say hi to Seki, Andy and AVE, Bill, Shanna, Pastor Kent or Pastor Karen, and the people preparing communion. Punch holes in my worship bulletin. Make copies of my sermon. And robe up. These moments are part of my pre-liturgy ritual. It varies slightly from Sunday to Sunday, but those moments start moving my subdued spirit. I’m never sure when the boost will happen, but it’s often those moments just after the Confession and Forgiveness and the first verse or two of singing the gathering hymn with you all. The other parts of the liturgy begin to unfold and, by the time the Sending Hymn hushes into the Dismissal, my spirit is recharged. Rather than wonder how I was going to make it through worship, I’m left wondering how I thought I was going to make it through everything else without it.
In that wondering, Peter’s desire to hang on to the razzle dazzle of Jesus’ transfiguration follows a similar logic. It’s one of the weirder Bible stories. Jesus’ face shines with God’s glory as do the two ancient admired ancestors – Moses and Elijah. Cosmically awed by the dazzling light radiating from the three of them, Peter wants to enshrine them. That dim idea along with Peter and his friends were quickly shrouded in the cloud. “Then from the cloud came a voice that said, ‘This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!’ When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone.” Jesus, the One to whom we should listen.
The Hebrew understanding of the word “listen” is linked to obedience – listening to obey what is heard.[1] Listening to Jesus engages us in his ministry of faith. “Since it is by God’s mercy that we engage in this ministry, we do not lose heart.” So says the 2 Corinthians reading today. Reminding each other of God’s mercy through Jesus is what we do for each other in worship together. Week after week we remind each other that we are called to something bigger by something way bigger. A mystery larger than ourselves that right sizes our humanity under and below God’s divinity. And also a mystery that includes each one of us as the church, the risen body of Christ in the world, making more of us together than we could be by ourselves.
The 2nd Letter to the Corinthian church was written to encourage some of the earliest Jesus followers. It was easy to lose heart in a world such as theirs. Just as it’s easy to lose heart in a world such as ours. Our world in which Jesus’ teachings about cooperation, peace, and community are regularly overshadowed by messages about competition, threat, and territoriality. There are far too many examples of how this is playing out in our world at the moment. Listening to Jesus calls us into ministry in which God’s mercy fills our hearts so that we don’t lose heart. One way to fill hearts is through action and advocacy alongside folks who are struggling with food insecurity and access to other resources like healthcare and education. In that spirit, you’re all invited to today’s noon discussion about advocacy opportunities. When we do ministry together to make God’s love real in the world, we’re focused on what we CAN do, not what we can’t control.
When we do what we CAN do, we cultivate hope in the world for us and for the children watching us. Our children need hope as an antidote to the daily messages of despair and to fuel their momentum into an unknown future. Their spiritual need for hope is a deep concern of this congregation. A few hours connected in community on Sunday morning and during other activities is one way to surround families with support and hope in a world that works against both.
We’ve been in the season of Epiphany since after Christmas. Epiphany emphasizes the light of Christ shining in the darkness and now crescendos to a close today on a mountaintop in dazzling light with Jesus’ Transfiguration. During this season, together we’ve made our weekly worship confession with this prayer:
Merciful God, you speak compassion into the world, while we ignore the needs of our neighbors, give in to scarcity and fear, and assume the worst about one another. Restore our hearts to seek justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with you in the light of Christ. Amen.”
These past weeks, we’ve been praying for the restoration of our hearts through justice, kindness, and humility in the light of Christ. But we often look for light in other places to decrease fear. And there are so many shiny, dazzling lights out there promising to fix our fear or at least distract us from it. There are also the shiny, distracting lights out there that stoke our fear and tell us who to blame for it. Distraction and blame excuse us from helping the people we feel don’t deserve our help and we need never look at the good, bad, and ugly of ourselves. We humans can be so clever that way, blinding ourselves to the very things that Jesus calls us to see and do. This is why, after we make our confession, we also hear a word of God’s good forgiveness:
Hear this promise of grace: In +Christ+, your sins are forgiven. In the Spirit, you are made free. Live anew as beloved children of God. Amen.
On the mountaintop, dazzled by Jesus’ light today, many of us wonder if there’s anything to the Transfiguration. Pausing on the mountaintop before our six-week journey through Lent to the cross that sits on a different hill.[2] It’s one thing for us to faithfully listen to Jesus and be comforted. It’s another thing to faithfully listen to Jesus and be made uncomfortable and to do ministry together. Thankfully, following Jesus is often a group project. So, we’re going to roll down this dazzling mountain into Lent and into the theme, “Is Any BODY There? Yes!” Jesus lived on our earth as we do, sharing with us an embodied presence. During Lent, we’ll reflect on what it means to be human, as embodied people who are longing for connection, healing, and hope. And––because of Easter––we are now the Body of Christ, alive in the world. The life, death, and resurrection of Jesus means that we are never alone. The Surgeon General’s Advisory on loneliness recognizes the healing effects of social connection and community. During our six weeks of Lent, we will, together, deepen our connections with God, each other, and our community.
Listening to Jesus and doing what he says can be a dicey proposition because it quickly becomes a way of validating ourselves and invalidating other people. We become heavy-handed and perpetuate the very fear that Jesus frees us from. The Transfiguration, in its weird, dramatic dazzle, is a moment in Jesus’ story that defies any attempt at certainty because it is pure mystery. The time-space continuum bends as ancestors and friends share space and light on the top of the mountain. The Transfiguration resists explanation while drawing us to the light of God in Jesus and reminds us that we are in ministry together so that we do not lose heart. Alleluia and amen.
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[1] Joy J. Moore, Associate Professor of Biblical Preaching, Luther Seminary. Podcast for the Transfiguration on February 23, 2020. https://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=1232