Mountaintop Mardi Gras

Luke 9:28-43a

Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became as bright as a flash of lightning. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking about his exodus, which he was about to fulfill in Jerusalem. Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep, but as they awoke they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him.

Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us set up three tents: one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah,” not realizing what he was saying. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them, and they were terrified as they entered 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. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.

On the next day, when they had come down from the mountain, a great crowd met him. Just then a man from the crowd shouted, “Teacher, I beg you to look at my son; he is my only child. Suddenly a spirit seizes him, and all at once he shrieks. It convulses him until he foams at the mouth; it mauls him and will scarcely leave him. I begged your disciples to cast it out, but they could not.” Jesus answered, “You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and put up with you? Bring your son here.” While he was being brought forward, the demon dashed him to the ground in convulsions. But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, healed the boy, and gave him back to his father. And all were astounded at the greatness of God.

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Now that was fun! I’m talking about last night’s Mardi Gras party, of course. +Mark likes to say it’s about as much fun as you can have in church. I have to agree—and I’ll be honest, Cross of Grace, I had my doubts.

When I first got the paperwork to begin the call process, the description of the congregation caught my eye: Cross of Grace is a lively, growing, and fun family of faith. Now, I grew up Lutheran, and I wouldn’t call most of our congregations lively, so that seemed like a bold claim. Then growing—and I thought, That’s too good to be true. It’s 2022, we’re just coming out of a pandemic, nobody is growing. And then the kicker: fun family of faith. I thought, They know they’re supposed to be honest about this, right? How much fun can a Lutheran church in a town of less than 3,000 people be?

Well, come to a Mardi Gras party, and you’ll see! There’s music, laughter, food, drink, games, and feasting—all while raising money for a good cause. We really do let the good times roll! Some might ask, A Mardi Gras party at church? A pancake breakfast is one thing, but Mardi Gras? To which I say: Of course! We should have fun! We should feast! And what better time than Mardi Gras?

What many don’t realize is that Mardi Gras has deep Christian roots. Like many of our traditions, it began as pagan celebrations of spring and fertility thousands of years ago. But when Christianity arrived in Rome, they adapted the traditions instead of abolishing them, thank goodness! By the 1600s, Mardi Gras—or carnival—had become what we know today. And it’s not not just a day, but an entire season. It begins with Epiphany and ends on Fat Tuesday (Mardi Gras in French). And this season was preparation for Lent: 40 days of feasting, filling up on meat, eggs, butter, and a little fun too… before the 40 days of fasting and self-sacrifice.

That same spirit is still alive in New Orleans today. You might think Mardi Gras is all debauchery and drunkenness, but you’d be wrong. Nearly every part of it has rich Christian symbolism. The colors—purple, green, and gold—represent justice, faith, and the power of God. The food, from king cake to paczkis (poonch-keys), connects to traditions of feasting on the very things you soon fast during Lent. Even the bands and floats marching down the streets create more than just spectacle—they offer people a shared experience of joy and community before embarking on a time of penance and reflection.

I asked our own Angi Johnson, whose family goes to Mardi Gras nearly every year, what she loves most about it. She told me that when you watch the bands marching by and the krewes strutting around in their colorful costumes and masks, handing out handmade, one-of-a-kind treasures, something remarkable happens—the strangers beside you quickly become friends.

The energy, the generosity, the sheer joy of it all draws people together. It’s communal. It’s sacramental. It’s a party you never want to end. Maybe it was Mardi Gras up on the mountaintop that Peter, James, and John had followed Jesus onto. It certainly sounds like one heck of a party: dazzling clothes, changes in appearance, bright lights, surprise VIP guests, who knows, maybe there was a jazz band up there too.

And Peter was loving it. He didn’t want the party to end. Who could blame him? Who wouldn’t want to stay at that mountaintop Mardi Gras? Moses, Elijah, and Jesus—who else might show up? What else might happen? But Peter also remembered what Jesus had said just eight days ago: that he would suffer, be rejected, and be killed. If they stayed on the mountain, they could pretend Jesus never said that. If they stay on the mountain, they can continue to let the good times roll and he doesn’t have to go back down the mountain; back to the dark, cold, struggling world from whence they came.

So Peter says, let’s not leave. Let’s build tents and just stay on the mountaintop, far away from the valley below.

But, every Mardi Gras comes to an end, including this one. As Peter is laying out his plans to stay, a mysterious crowd engulfs them. They hear God speak to them and when the voice is gone, so too are Elijah and Moses. The party’s over. It's time to go back down the mountain and enter the valley.

Or perhaps more accurately, Jesus chooses to go back down the mountain, where he’s immediately met with another crowd and a father begging for his son to be healed. And you can almost hear Peter saying, that’s why I wanted to stay on the mountain: away from all the disease, from all the demons, from all the people in need of Jesus. If they had just stayed on that mountain, Peter wouldn’t have to go to this lowly place, filled with lowly people. Yet the first thing Jesus does upon entering the valley is heal the boy brought to him by the begging father.

And everyone who saw it was astounded at the greatness of God.

That’s the good news in this story. Jesus chooses to go back down the mountain, into the valley, where there is a crowd clamoring for his teaching, his healing, his mere presence; where there is disease and demons waiting for him, where there is suffering, and rejection, and pain, waiting for him.

And yet, he goes willingly, showing that the glory of God is not just revealed at Mountaintop Mardi Gras’s but also through humble service in the sin-filled, disease ridden, valley. Thanks be to God.

And what does all this mean for us today? It seems this country is having our own Mardi Gras atop the America First mountain, reveling not in God’s glory and power, but it’s own. On Wednesday, the State Department announced it would cut hundreds of USAID-funded programs—$60 billion in lifesaving aid to the world’s poorest communities, gone.

It’s just 1% of government spending, but it has an outsized impact on global health. HIV treatment for 350,000 people in Southern Africa, including 20,000 children and pregnant women, gone. The only water source for 250,000 displaced people in war torn areas in the Democratic Republic of Congo, gone. Health clinics operating in the middle of Sudan’s civil war, gone. And that's just a few examples! Hundreds more, just like them, gone! All to save a back, to stay on the mountaintop of America First.

Meanwhile, children like the boy in the valley, will be mauled, not by demons, but by hunger, thirst, disease, and war. Does that sound like a Christian nation?

Not to me it doesn’t, because the Jesus I know can’t help but go down the mountain. Our Jesus chose to go into the valley because the sick boy needed him, because I needed him, because you needed him, because the world needed him! And when the time was right, Jesus went up another hill, this time on a cross, but he didn’t stay on that hill either.

We certainly know how to have fun, Cross of Grace, and God knows.. with all the grief we are holding from the deaths of beloved Partners in Mission and with the long, difficult, days of Lent ahead, we needed it.

But every mardi gras comes to an end and Ash Wednesday is right around the corner. So this Lent, let’s follow Christ into the valley and help the most vulnerable through our Lenten disciplines.

In your giving, support organizations that got their funding cut, like World Vision, International Justice Mission, Global Refuge, and Lutheran World Relief, all faith-based organizations, all had programs cut.

In your fasting, think of and pray for the children in Gaza, Syria, and Nigeria suffering from severe malnutrition.

In your praying, lift up our president and all elected officials, that they would leave the mountain of America first and follow Christ’s example, helping and serving those in the valley.

Lord have mercy. Amen.

It's Not About the Fish

Luke 5:1-11

Once while Jesus was standing beside the lake of Gennesaret, and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake; the fishermen had gone out of them and were washing their nets.

He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, ‘Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.’

Simon answered, ‘Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.’ When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break.

So they signaled to their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink.

But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, ‘Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!’ For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken; and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon. Then Jesus said to Simon, ‘Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.’ When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.

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My dad was a car salesman when I was growing up. He worked an odd schedule: 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. one day and 2 p.m. to 8 p.m. the next. One summer when I was about seven, he bought a little jon boat with an old motor.

On the days he didn’t have to go in until the afternoon, my dad, my brother, and I would strap the boat in the bed of the truck and head to Shadyside Lake for the morning. It was always a competition to see who would catch the most fish.

My dad usually came in last, though he’d tell you it was because I didn’t like taking my fish off the hook. It didn’t matter anyway because Chad always seemed to outcatch us. But our time fishing was never really about how many fish we caught.

We fished for sport, of course—just time for a father and his sons to be together, like every father wants. But for Simon Peter and the others, fishing was their job, their livelihood, a central part of their identity.

Their boat would have been one of, if not the most, important things they owned. So I wonder if Simon hesitated when Jesus asked him to put it out a little way from the shore so he could preach to the crowd pressing in on him. Whatever the case, Jesus went out on the lake, sat down, and preached.

When it was over, I’m sure Simon was ready to shake Jesus’ hand and say, “Great sermon today, Rabbi. Thank you very much. Let’s get you back to shore.” But that’s not what Jesus wanted. No, Jesus said, “Let’s go back out. I want to fish. I know where you should go.”

Do you think that’s what Simon really wanted to do? He had been out all night away from his family. He still had to wash the nets, and to make matters worse, he had caught nothing. No fish meant no money. No money meant all sorts of questions—how would he feed his family or buy the necessary supplies to keep his business afloat? So Simon responded, “Master, we were at this all night and caught nothing.” In other words: Jesus, take it from me—there's nothing out there.

I wonder how many times Simon rowed his boat ashore with empty nets. This likely wasn’t the first time. And think for a moment how hard that must have been—how it would leave Simon feeling. This was the thing he was supposed to be an expert in, the thing he’d done all his life. Like me, he spent many days fishing with his dad. So I imagine each time he spent all night on that boat and caught nothing, his inner critic was loud:

“You’re not a good fisherman, which means you’re not a good provider or husband. You don’t really know what you’re doing. You’re incompetent. You fail at this just like you do everything else.”

I have no doubt that voice left him feeling like he wasn’t good enough, smart enough, or rich enough. What he felt was despair. And when you feel that way, the last thing you want to do is go back out and try again.

Surely you know what that’s like—not for your nets to be empty, but to fail at the very thing you’re supposed to be good at. Or for your expertise to let you down. I have to believe you are no stranger to that inner critic telling you that you are not good enough, smart enough, or rich enough. If you are anything like me, you hear it nearly every night, saying you didn’t do enough today. You should have done more or done it better—because if you had, maybe people would see your worth. Maybe God would too.

Maybe your inner critic replays each encounter you had throughout the day, making you question what you said or did. Or perhaps it reminds you of all the mistakes you’ve made and why you aren’t worthy of love or joy.

How do we not fall into despair and self-doubt when we hear this?

But then Simon changes his mind and says to Jesus, “Yet if you say so.” Those five words are what being a follower of Jesus is all about. I’m not sure about this, God, but I’ll give it a go. I’ve got my doubts—about this and about myself—yet I trust you. I really don’t want to do this, Jesus, yet if you say so.

Simon says those five words and does as Jesus says. You know the story from there: the disciples catch a whole school of fish, and their nets begin to tear. So they call over their partners to bring another boat. Once help arrives, both boats are swimming in so many fish that they begin to sink. Now, it would be easy to get caught up in the fish, to think they are the most important, most miraculous part of this story. We could even twist this story to mean that if I am obedient to Jesus—if I just do what God says—then I too will get a miracle.

You likely don’t want a literal boatload of fish, yet you might hope for some miracle of abundance.

But don’t focus on the fish; that’s not the point of the story. If we do, we miss the most miraculous part—namely, that the Savior of the world is on board with them. The fish simply point to what’s most important: sitting beside them on their little boat is God in the flesh!

Everyone who saw the catch was amazed, but it is Simon who realizes what it means. So he turns to Jesus and says, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” In other words: I am not worthy for you to be on my boat. I’m not worthy because I doubted you. I’m not worthy because I’m just a fisherman, and not a good one at that. If you only knew me and my sin, if you heard my inner critic, then you too, Jesus, would know I’m not worthy.

But that’s exactly why Jesus got into the boat. He didn’t get on that boat because Simon had earned it. Clearly, it wasn’t Simon’s fantastic fishing skills that lured Jesus. If anything, it was the opposite. If anything, it was because the nets were empty. It was because Simon hadn’t caught any fish. It was because of the self-doubt and despair this so-called fisherman must have been feeling. If Simon had hauled in a huge catch the night before, what need would he have had for Jesus? It’s all grace that Jesus was on Simon’s boat. It wasn’t merit—because that’s not how the kingdom of God works. Jesus was there because Simon was in need.

The best news for all of us who hear that inner critic, who are familiar with despair and self-doubt, is that the same is true for us. God is in your boat—not because you are worthy, not because of your merit, not because what you think you are good at. It is because our nets are empty. It is because we have failed. It is because we are in need that Jesus gets on board. If we never doubted, if we never failed, what need would we have for such grace? It is grace that silences the inner critic, telling us that we are enough, we are worthy, because we are loved.

“Do not be afraid, from now you will catch people”. That’s our job, too. All around us people are falling into despair and self-doubt from the words of their inner critic, all of it amplified by the world we live in.

We are tasked with catching them by offering the same grace we have received in Jesus Christ. It’s getting on board with them when their nets are empty. It’s helping them—not because they’ve earned it, but because they need it.

Just as with my dad and brother, it’s not about the fish. It’s about recognizing that, as unworthy as we are, Jesus is on board with us, guiding us where we should go and what we should do. And even when we are unsure or unwilling to follow, may we have the strength and courage to respond: “But if you say so.”

Amen.