Matthew 4:1-11

Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. He fasted forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished. The tempter came and said to him, "If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread." But he answered, "It is written, 'One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.'" Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, saying to him, "If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written, 'He will command his angels concerning you,' and 'On their hands they will bear you up, so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.'" Jesus said to him, "Again it is written, 'Do not put the Lord your God to the test.'" Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor; and he said to him, "All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me." Jesus said to him, "Away with you, Satan! for it is written, 'Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.'" Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him.

I wondered about this Gospel this time around in a different way than I usually do. I’m used to seeing Jesus as some kind of a super hero, duking it out with the devil, in the wilderness. And I always read this story knowing how it’s supposed to end: like Superman and Lex Luther, or Spiderman and the Green Goblin, or Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader – I know the good guy, in Jesus, is going to come out on top.

But this week, I wondered if Jesus knew that when he made his way into the wilderness after his baptism – that he would come out on top, I mean. And I wondered if that’s why he made his way out into the wilderness in the first place. First of all, it’s important that you know, I’m not convinced Jesus is milling around in the woods or out in the desert – wherever this “wilderness” was for him – with an actual “devil” like this:

or like this:

or like this:

or like this, even:

You are free to disagree, but I think Matthew’s Gospel has personified “the Tempter” in order to tell a really great story about what was going on in the heart and mind and spirit of Jesus. And it makes much more sense to me to understand it that way.

What I’m saying is, I think “the Tempter” where Jesus is concerned, is somewhere between a hooved, horned, pitch-fork-carrying, fire-breathing shyster in the desert – and the dark, doubting, deceitful, depths of Jesus’ human psyche. Whatever the case, that darkness is having its way with Jesus – testing his faith, questioning his identity, teasing him with alternatives, taunting him with options, tempting him to choose something other than God’s best for him. And I wonder if – when Jesus makes his way into the wilderness – he’s just as curious as the proverbial devil to know who’s going to win.

See, right out of the gate, Jesus hears, “If you are the Son of God…” And I wonder if Jesus is thinking, “I never said I was the Son of God!” That’s what my mom’s always told me, but she talks to angels. Dad dreamed it in a dream, once too, but he’s just a carpenter – and not the sharpest tool in the shed.”

People had been telling Jesus his whole life he was something special … descended from the house of David ... “Emmanuel” … “God with us,” and what not. Those magi from far and away, those “wise men,” showed up with gifts for him when he was just a boy. He probably heard stories about how King Herod had tried to kill him because of it. John the Baptist had been telling everyone that Jesus was “the One – the Lamb of God – who would take away the sin of the world.” And when he was baptized, there was a hole in the clouds, a dove, and some voice, somewhere, said something about Jesus being the beloved Son of God.

But who among us would have been so sure? So what if, after all of that, even Jesus wasn’t so sure? What if he had his doubts? What if he felt like just an ordinary, average, everyday Joe … not Jesus, son of the most high God? What if he wanted to know for certain? What if he needed some proof… some confirmation… some assurance that he was up for whatever this task and title – this “Son of God” business – was all about? And what if all of it felt more like a burden than a blessing sometimes? What if he felt foisted upon, rather than faithful about all of this more often than not?

What if that’s what drove Jesus into the wilderness … his doubt, his uncertainty, his cynicism, I mean? When I consider it that way, Jesus starts to look less and less like an untouchable, unrelatable, unreachable superhero and more like you and me…

… like someone trying to make his way in the world, buying or rejecting the ideas and the opinions so many others have of him… (Do you know anyone like that?)

… like someone trying to live up to the expectations and the assumptions others have put upon him, in ways he can manage, if not be proud of… (Do you know anyone like that?)

…like someone trying to prove – to himself and to others – that he’s worthy and valuable and that he’s up to something worthy and valuable with his life and with his time and with his work… (Maybe you’ve felt like that yourself a time or two.)

…like someone who wants to take risks, who wants to choose the good, who wants to have faith in something or someone greater than himself; and like someone who needs some help – or at least some fresh perspective about – all of that from time to time, because it can be a heavy load to bear. (Haven’t we all danced with that devil more than once, ourselves?)

It’s why what Jesus is up to this morning can be a powerful encouragement for each us. He follows the Spirit of God into the wilderness for a season of time long enough to get away from all the voices and all the people, all the opinions and all the ideas of the world around him, and he considers it from the holy perspective he knows God would have for him.

And so I wonder if that’s our invitation and challenge, with all of this, this time around.

“One doesn’t live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.” We are invited not to live by or for the “bread” of this world – the things, the money, the stuff and the possessions that never last. But we are invited to be fed, nourished and sustained by the better things of love and grace and mercy and hope that come from the mouth of our creator.

“Don’t put the Lord your God to the test.” God’s love for you has already been proven. It already is. You are already beloved. So we can take risks. We can choose the good for the sake of the good. We are invited to trust in God’s mercy because we can, not because we have to. And we are invited to test the world around us with the love and grace of God, instead, and to see who or what is left standing when we do.

“Worship the Lord your God and serve only him.” Jesus reminds us not to be distracted or deceived by the false gods that surround us in this world – all of those competing voices and ideas and opinions that challenge or feed our egos, unnecessarily. We are invited to live humbly and in awe and with grateful generosity for what is God’s in this world, and not our own. And we’re invited to join God in sharing that with others.

And we can do this, not because we’re superheroes, but precisely because we are not. We can do this because we are beloved children of God. And when we buy that, when we believe that and live accordingly – in those moments when we choose wisely and faithfully and in ways that our heart’s desires honor God’s desire for our heart – the devils of doubt and deception and temptation to do otherwise will leave us, and we will know relief and rest and joy and peace which passes all understanding. And I think that kind of rest, relief and joy might feel something like being waited on by angels.

Amen

Matthew 17:1-9

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him.

Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”

When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.”

And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone. As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”

This Transfiguration Gospel isn’t always my favorite text to preach. I always wonder how it plays and I worry about what questions it raises among cynics and skeptics, with all of its dazzling clothes, shining faces, Old Testament ghosts, and talking clouds. I worry about that because I’ve asked some of those questions, myself many times. What I mean is, it’s weird and hard to believe, and I get that.

But the gist of what happened on that mountain top wasn’t just a magic show. Matthew’s Gospel is very dramatically putting Jesus into his rightful place among the great prophets of God – right up there with superstars like Moses and Elijah. And his disciples, just like the rest of us, are meant to make note of that, to take it to heart, and to wonder about what it might mean for the big picture of God’s plan for the world.

See when Jesus says, “until the Son of Man has been raised from the dead,” they – and we – are supposed to wonder about what awaits him as they make their way down the hill; as he so faithfully chooses to leave that mountain top and head, so obediently, toward Jerusalem and toward the cross and toward his own undoing on Calvary’s cross.

Because what was next for Jesus – and for us – is even more unbelievable than what happened on that mountain. What was going to happen was that Jesus would be crucified. Jesus was about to share a meal with his friends; he would be arrested; he would be denied and betrayed by the closest of his followers and then he would die the worst kind of death on top of it all – whipped, beaten, mocked, spit upon, crowned with thorns and nailed to a cross – before being raised from the dead.

Because Jesus was showing, I believe, that it is in all of this struggle and sacrifice that real transfiguration, true transformation and meaningful change happens. It’s on all of this that our faith is to rest. Not just on mysticism and myth. Not just on miracles and magic. But on real life, down and dirty relationships between God and people and between people and each other.

That’s what, I hope, our discipleship is all about – reminding each other and reminding the world that God isn’t just up in the clouds or hanging around in the mountaintop experiences of our lives. In Jesus, God has been and is down here with us, in the middle of our suffering and struggle. And God invites us to do that for and with others, in their struggle, just the same.

Because transfiguration, transformation, and change, aren’t just for Jesus. Those disciples were meant to be transfigured, too. And all of this came to life in a new, meaningful way for me this week in Fondwa, Haiti. I saw this passage in some really down-to-earth ways that checked my cynical, skepticism about it all, when I paid attention to what we experienced with our friends in Fondwa.

With this Gospel spinning around in my brain all week, this is how I heard it, anew, for a change:

Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter, James and his brother John…

… and Ben and Lily, Dave and Linda, Pastor Mark and Haley, too … and he led them up a high mountain by themselves.

And he was transfigured before them. His face shone like the sun and his clothes became dazzling white. … but Jesus became darker, too. Very literally black and brown, I mean.

He looked a little like Luckner, our guide and translator – who had so many answers and so much patience for us along the way.

And Jesus looked like Sister Claudette, a kind, and quiet and humble sort of servant; and he laughed like Stearline and he prayed like Jesula.

He was wise like Sine, too, and as strong as Ji-ber.

And suddenly, there appeared before them Moses and Elijah, speaking with Jesus … so that a lot of things made sense for them in a new way. With Jesus in the company of those ancient prophets and servants of God, suddenly all of his talk about ‘release for the captives, freedom for the oppressed, and the year of the Lord’s favor’ were more meaningful than they had been before. And that stuff about being “salt of the earth” and “light for the nations” and about how the meek would inherit the earth, about those who mourn would be comforted, and how the last would be first and the first would be last held new meaning, too.

Peter said, “Lord, it is good for us to be here. If you wish, I will make three dwelling places, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.”

Jamalyn said, “it is SO good for us be here. I think we should build 40 houses in three years, just for starters. One for the Dorelian family:

and for Victor’s wife, who doesn’t know exactly how old she is:

and for Eddie and for Eliane and for Elise, and for the Sylvera family, too.

Haitians will do most of the work, we’ll help where we can, and we’ll have support from places and people as far away as New Palestine, Indiana.”

While (s)he was still speaking (because those of you who know Jamalyn know she is very often “still speaking”) suddenly a great cloud overshadowed them … and they were overcome regularly by the beauty that surrounded them.

All those mountains and valleys; the hills and high places; and the stories they tell of the highs and lows – the struggles and celebrations – of the people who live and move and breathe in those mountains with such courage and grace and faith and hope and love.

…and a voice came [from heaven] saying, “This is my Son, the beloved, with him I am well-pleased. Listen to him.” When they heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome with fear. But Jesus came and touched them and said, “Get up and do not be afraid.” … and they were reminded over and over and over again, by those they would meet – in homes:

…at building sites:

…on the playground they built at the school:

…and in worship, of course, that it was God doing this work; that God was answering the prayers of the people; that God was and is alive and well in their own lives, in Fondwa, and for the sake of the world.

When they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus, himself, alone. And as they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them [to tell no one about what they had seen] until the Son of Man had been raised from the dead.

The disciples didn’t catch it because they couldn’t know what we know. But, in spite of what was to come for Jesus – his crucifixion, his death, and his burial – there might have been a hint of a smile on his lips and a wink in his eye, because he hoped for what we know is true: that the Son of Man has, indeed, been raised from the dead.

So they were invited to be transfigured … transformed … changed … themselves. And not to be afraid in the same ways they once were or that we are tempted to be afraid, so much of the time.

And they were allowed to leave the mountain with a different kind of command – to tell anyone with ears to hear about all the things they had seen and heard and shared and received – by God’s grace and with gratitude to their friends in Fondwa…

…the stuff of grace and generosity and gratitude, I mean, for blessings too numerous to count – and that must be shared – in order to change the world with the love of Jesus, as he intends.

Amen

Devil-Dancing in the Wilderness - Matthew 4:1-11

A Haitian Transfiguration