Last Sunday after the Epiphany--Year B

Last Sunday after the Epiphany—Year B February 15, 2015 I’m going to put something out there that may be a little shocking to some folks, but I want to use it to begin our conversation with scripture this morning. “What if there is no plan?” I was reading a blog post this week where the writer, a preacher and seminary dean named David Lose, writes about how the gospel for this week reminds him of a scene from the TV show, “The Walking Dead.” In the scene, there is “a simple exchange between Rick Grimes, the sheriff who leads a bunch of survivors through a zombie infested landscape and Hershell Green who functions as something of a father-figure and mentor to Rick. They are discussing the horrors of their post-apocalyptic world when Herschel affirms that he still believes there is a plan to all this, that God has something in mind. Rick is, if not downright skeptical, at least unconvinced.”i What if there is no plan? Mark’s gospel tells us that Jesus takes his three hand-picked disciples up the mountain with him to get away and pray—a regular occurrence for Jesus and them. But on this day, the three disciples witness Jesus’s transfiguration: his clothes become an unearthly white and they see him conversing with Moses and Elijah—the two key figures from Israel’s history. And Mark tells us that they are terrified! So, Peter rushes to deal with his terror by finding meaning-trying to fit this awesome encounter into the framework of a plan, a course of action. In the face of the mystery of the transfiguration, Peter offers to build booths for all of them. Now, his offer to build some booths isn’t quite as random as it might seem to us. “For elements of the Jewish tradition associated the “Day of the Lord” – that time when God would draw history to its climax and defeat Israel’s enemies – with the Feast of Booths (see Zech. 16). And so Peter, taking the appearance of Moses and Elijah as the cue for this event, offers to build them booths. Peter, you see, has taken this momentous encounter with God’s prophets and fitted it into a pre-existing narrative and religious framework that helps him make sense of this otherwise inexplicable and somewhat terrifying event. Yet by doing so he comes perilously close to missing an encounter with God. For just after he stops speaking, almost interrupting him, in fact, a voice from heaven both announces and commands, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved. Listen to him!’ Peter wants to fit what is happening into a plan. God invites him instead to experience the wonder and mystery of Jesus.” I think it’s interesting that Mark tells us that in the midst of the transfiguration and Peter’s planning, the disciples become overshadowed. This is the same word that is used in Luke to describe Mary’s encounter with God in the annunciation, when the angel tells her she will become the “God-bearer”.ii How often, I wonder, do we miss out on an encounter with God because we are too busy trying to make meaning of a given situation in our own lives? How often do we ignore or resist the overshadowing of God because we are so busy trying to make things fit into “God’s plan”? That’s why I am intrigued by this question, “What if there is no plan?”. Would we live our lives differently, being more fully present in the moment, more attentive to the ways that God is already showing up in our lives and in our world? I feel certain we would not be quite so cavalier in pushing off God’s plan onto others in our attempt to make sense of the tragedies that they might be enduring. How often are we like Peter, missing out on an encounter with the Holy One because we are so afraid, and we push aside that fear with a semblance of control? On this Last Sunday of Epiphany, perhaps you have already begun to think about Lent and about what sort of practices you might give up or take on. I know I have. I had thought about taking on the practice of reading Morning Prayer every day during Lent. (I did this with my husband, David, during Advent, and it was a powerful experience.) But after spending some time with this gospel, I think I’m going to forgo that. Why you may ask? Because morning prayer is so very chock-full of words. And also because I feel like this is my attempt to control the Holy with my own plan of what I should be doing for Lent. Think about it. Does the way that you keep Lent open up room for the overshadowing of your life by God? Does it offer an invitation, a space for God to be in your life? Or is it more about control? What might it look like for us to use Lent to let go of some of our need for order, structure, plans, and control and to really open ourselves to being overshadowed by God? It’s a terrifying thought, isn’t it? What would it mean for us in our common worship, in our individual prayers and practices and devotion and in our lives, to live in the present, not seeking meaning but being open to the overshadowing of God through the Holy Spirit as given to us by Jesus Christ? I encourage you this week to spend some time reflecting on that slightly troublesome question: What if there is no plan? As you do this, ask yourself what in our faith is left as foundation if there is no plan? I’m a fan of a writer named Richard Rohr. He’s a Roman Catholic priest and a Franciscan brother, and he has founded the center for action and contemplation. This week on Facebook, I discovered one of his quotes that I will leave you with this week to think about. Rohr writes, “God does not love you because you are good. God loves you because God is good.” i. http://www.davidlose.net/2015/02/transfiguration-b/ ii. ibid