"Not Alone" (Luke 9:28-36)

 ◧ Last Tuesday, the sun was out, and the weather was so nice and relatively warm… and I thought that I would ride my bike to church, as I often do when the weather is nice…except that when I woke up, I felt tired. 

I had slept well during the night. But still: I was tired!

The truth is, I’ve been tired for a while now. Tired in a way that I can’t tell if the exhaustion is physical, or mental. (Anyone else feeling extra tired lately? Just worn down?)

Lots of people in our community have been fighting colds, flu, COVID… so there are viruses going around, which means our bodies are working extra hard to stay healthy. Making sure your body gets the sleep it needs helps you maintain the energy needed to stay healthy. 

Then there’s the exhaustion that comes from keeping up with each day’s bombardment of news. The attacks on so many people’s rights, and the sheer lack of compassion and mercy and care being shown to people by those in positions of power…

…knowing that I as pastor and we as a church need to “up our game” when it comes to caring for those who are most vulnerable to these ongoing attacks…

That’s exhausting, too.

On Tuesday, the problem for me was that I couldn’t tell if what I was feeling was mainly the physical exhaustion or the mental exhaustion. If it was mental exhaustion, then a bike ride to church would be just what I needed. But if it was physical exhaustion, then a bike ride to church would be just what I did not need.

Sometimes, it’s hard to know just how to best take good care of oneself.

And yet, it’s more important now, than ever, to take good care of ourselves, to be gentle with ourselves. And it’s more important than ever to also take good care of each other, and to be gentle with one another. Everyone is going through these tough times together.

I ended up not riding my bike to church last Tuesday; but I did take a break and go for a midday walk, to get some sunshine. And on that walk I thought about my sermon from last week, in which I talked about prayer, and about how Jesus often went off by himself to pray, to the wilderness, to the mountain, to spend time alone with God.

That was an act of self-care. Jesus needed those times of prayer, to care for his own physical and mental health, his own spiritual and emotional health. He knew he needed those times of solitude with God, to draw upon God’s strength, so that he could do the task and fulfill the mission that God had set before him.

In today’s scripture, Jesus once again goes off to pray. Like he did on at least one previous occasion, he goes up a mountain to pray.

◧ But this time, he doesn’t go alone.

This time, Jesus takes with him Peter, James, and John. This time, he needs others with him, to be with him, to pray with him, to help him access the strength he needs…

And he does this again, later, in the Garden of Gethsemane… he goes out to pray, and he brings along Peter, James, and John…

They weren’t always the best companions. In Gethsemane, they kept falling asleep. And here, on the mountain where Jesus was transfigured, they were confused and terrified. 

Jesus got frustrated with them, and may have even wondered if it was worth it, to keep these disciples around, to keep them close, and involved in everything. Getting them involved in the task of ministry, helping him carry out his mission—sometimes it just seemed like it would be easier if he did it all himself.

We’ve all felt that way, right? Sometimes, it takes more effort to organize and equip those who are willing to help you. Sometimes, it really seems that it would be easier to do it all by yourself.

Yet, Jesus knew that he couldn’t do it all by himself. He needed his disciples. He needed his companions.

I’m reminded of one of our scriptures that we read last summer at Camp Walter Scott: the story of Jethro and Moses. 

Moses was doing everything by himself. (Do you remember that?) It just seemed easier to him, even though it was wearing him out. But then Moses’s father-in-law Jethro came and saw what Moses was doing, and Jethro said to Moses: “What you are doing is not good.”

And Jethro convinced Moses to allow others to help him and work with him; to help carry the load.

We can’t do it alone. We may think we can, but we can’t. And we need more Jethros in the world, telling us that going it alone, trying to do everything by ourselves, is not good. We need others to help us, to walk with us, to pray with us, to lead with us, to help carry our burdens… to just be present, to be our companions, our friends, to ease the emotional burden of just being human on this planet.

The problem for many is that, in our society, it’s hard to find good companions and friends. Ours is the most individualistic society in the history of the world. And, even worse, it’s hard to recognize our need for companionship and friendship. It’s hard to recognize the isolation we experience, or admit the loneliness we feel.

And for many people today, the exhaustion they feel is actually a symptom of loneliness.

◧ Last week I read a book by Brene Brown called Dare to Lead. In one section of that book, she talks about Air Force Colonel DeDe Halfhill. I want to share part of that story with you…

One day, Colonel Halfhill was talking to a group of airmen, and she saw how tired they were. She asked them, “How many of you are tired?” The whole group raised their hands.

Thinking quickly, Colonel Halfhill remembered something she had recently read, about how sometimes, exhaustion is a symptom of loneliness. 

So she asked her group a second question: “How many of you are lonely?” Nearly half the group raised their hands, which surprised her. 

Loneliness is quite a raw emotion, and she wasn’t expecting so many to admit to experiencing it. She wasn’t quite sure what to do or say. She wasn’t a therapist, equipped to deal with such raw emotion. 

Colonel Halfhill thought about the high rates of suicide in the military, and realized that high suicide rates are probably related to the high level of loneliness. And Colonel Halfhill realized that she and other leaders in the military weren’t helping.

Colonel Halfhill said: “If I ask you if you’re tired and you say yes, I'm probably going to tell you to go get some rest. But if the real problem is that you’re lonely, I’m sending you away from what you need, off by yourself, which exacerbates the problem…Sometimes [people] just want to know that one person cares… We as leaders need to know how to do that…”

It took courage for Colonel Halfhill to ask the question, and it took courage for the people to raise their hands. Because we aren’t comfortable talking about loneliness. We’re more comfortable talking about “tired.” 

Yet, in the military, loneliness is real, and more people in the military die from suicide than die in combat. (I know this personally: I once had to do a funeral for a friend who died by suicide while in the military.)

Colonel Halfhill decided to do some research. She found a copy of the very first Air Force manual on leadership from 1948. That manual said things like: “You have to understand how your men will feel.” The manual emphasized  feelings over 100 times. It also talked about confidence, fear, belonging, kindness, mercy, friendliness, compassion, and even love—”what it means as a leader to love your men.”

By contrast, the most recent Air Force manual on leadership, written in 2011, doesn’t talk about feelings, or love, or anything like that. It's all about “tactical, operational, and strategic leadership,” but it doesn’t talk about feelings or emotions.

And let me tell you, this is NOT the time to NOT be talking about such things, given how lonely so many people feel.

◧ Two years ago, U.S. Surgeon General Vivek Murthy began sounding the alarm on loneliness. Half of all adults, and 81% of young adults, say they feel lonely. Loneliness increases the risk of cardiovascular disease, dementia, stroke, depression, anxiety, and premature death. 

Many people try to numb their loneliness through addictions to alcohol, drugs, porn, pleasure, perfectionism, work, social media scrolling, food, money, gambling, or shopping.

Murthy wrote that “Given the profound consequences of loneliness and isolation, we have an opportunity, and an obligation, to make the same investments in addressing social connection that we have made in addressing tobacco use, obesity, and the addiction crisis.”

To decrease loneliness, Murthy said, we need to focus on ◧ relationships, service, and community. 

Relationships, service, and community.

These three things—relationships, service, and community—help us make connections that will decrease loneliness and increase our sense of wholeness.

As it turns out, these three things—relationships, service, and community—are three things that churches like ours are well-equipped for.

If you are involved in a church—and especially if you are involved in a ministry team or small group—you are in a much better position to deal with and decrease the level of loneliness in your life. 

I’ve been saying since the start of this year that a church like ours is exactly what the world needs right now, and exactly what we need… and this is just one more reason why.

Like us, Jesus–being human–needed companionship. He needed friendships. He needed relationships. He needed an antidote to the loneliness that creeps in when one tries to go it alone. 

And that, I think, is one reason why he brought Peter, James, and John with him up the mountain that day.

We all need each other. Christians have always met together to worship, to break bread, to pray for one another and for the world, and to hear the gospel. 

We gather together, because we need each other. We need the opportunity to develop true, authentic relationships with one another, and with God.

Some of you have heard me talk about the word religion… Some people don’t like that word. They say they are “spiritual, but not religious.” And I get what they are trying to say.

◧ But the word religion comes from the prefix ‘re’ and the word ‘ligio.’  The word ‘ligio,’ like the word ‘ligament,’ refers to that which connects, that which holds things together.  So ‘re-ligio’ means to re-connect, to put back together.

True religion, then, is that which reconnects us to God and to one another. True religion is a rebuilding of relationships, and a tearing down of the walls that divide. True religion helps us overcome our isolation and loneliness.

◧ And worship—well, what we do in worship is called “liturgy.” And liturgy is a word that literally means “the work of the people.” Because to worship, you need a community. You need people.

Our worship is given shape and form by the liturgy. In some churches, like the Roman Catholic church or the Episcopal church, the liturgy is very rigid and formal. In our congregation, the liturgy is a little more relaxed and informal.

Liturgy includes all that we do in worship. It refers to the shape of the worship itself. The prayers, the readings, the hymns, and the words spoken at the table… they’re all part of the liturgy.

And since "liturgy" means "the work of the people,” the people are required to work. Worship is participatory. We’re all singing together, we’re all praying together, we’re all participating in the Lord’s Supper together.

Psalm 133 says: “How very good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity!” At least eight other times in the book of psalms, it talks about praising God in the midst of the great congregation. 

We need each other. We can’t do any of this alone.

As I always say: your presence here is a blessing, to me, and to those around you. And I know that you will be blessed, as well, by being a part of the great congregation.

Uncontainable God (Mark 9:2-9)

 You may have gone on a vacation somewhere, or gone to visit a famous museum or amusement park, or seen a Broadway play…and you enjoyed it so much—it was such a great experience—that you just had to buy a souvenir, and you just had to take a bunch of pictures, because you wanted to somehow bottle up that experience and bring it home with you, and maybe share it with those who didn’t get to go.

And so you come home with your Hamilton t-shirt, or your Mickey Mouse, or your autographed baseball from Wrigley Field (or, Busch stadium–whatever); and you post your pictures on facebook or instagram.

But you know… nothing makes you quite as happy as being there. 

And it’s not even just the fact that you were there; it’s who you were there with. And it’s the taste of the food you ate, and the smells you smelled, and the emotions you felt.

It’s the whole experience.

How do you bottle that up and bring that home?

You can’t, really.

Peter, James, and John experienced something truly amazing up there on the mountain. They experienced Jesus, transfigured.

Our scripture reading is the Bible’s attempt to share that experience with all of us, who weren’t there. The story in scripture is like a little 2-minute video shot on a cellphone of an event that must have been so much more impressive in person.

When Jesus was transfigured, his clothes became dazzling white, making visible the divine presence within him. And in that glow that surrounded him, Elijah and Moses could be seen, and they were talking with Jesus. And a cloud appeared, and a voice emanated out of the cloud, and said: “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him.”

And Peter, James, and John, they had sensed this divine presence within Jesus before, and they believed it was there…but they hadn’t fully experienced that divine presence; it hadn’t yet been revealed to them in all its glory, until the transfiguration.

The transfiguration was an unmasking; a revealing. And these three disciples got to see and experience what they had only sensed previously.

The Spirit of God is all around us, like the wind; the spirit dwells within us, like our breath.

But to actually see it in a way that mortal human eyes are normally unable to see; to actually experience it fully… now that’s an experience you want to take home with you! You want to bottle it up, and take it home with you, and share it with those who weren’t able to be there with you.

So: Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, teacher, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”

Peter didn’t really seem to know why he said that. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to think. He was overcome and terrified and overjoyed. The other two disciples, James and John, were rendered speechless, but not Peter. Never Peter. Peter is never at a loss for words. 

But sometimes, he has no idea what he’s saying, or why he’s saying it.

But here’s a guess: Peter wanted to erect three dwellings, three booths, three mini-tabernacles, as a way to contain the glory, to bottle it up. Kind of like the ark of the covenant, these three dwellings would be where God’s glory, in the form of Jesus, Moses, and Elijah, could dwell.

And maybe Peter, James, and John could carry these dwellings down the mountain, or the people could come up to them, and peek inside; or, if that was too much, they could just stand outside the dwellings, and know that, within them, the glory of God dwells.

That’s my guess; I don’t really know what Peter was thinking. But I think he thought he could somehow bottle up this whole experience, and maybe use it for his show-and-tell presentation to the rest of the disciples, the ones who weren’t there. 

But then, suddenly, the cloud went away, and when Peter looked, Moses and Elijah were gone, and Jesus’ radiance had dimmed back to normal.

Apparently what the disciples experienced there on the mountain with Jesus was not something that could be bottled up and carried back home.

And I wonder if, in that moment, Peter was thinking that things would be a lot easier if God could be contained, if God could be put in a container and carried around.

A God like that would be so much easier to understand. When you had the time, you could take that God out, examine that God, then put God back. 

A God like that would also be easier to control. We want to control what people think about God. We want to shape God in our own image, the image of what we think God should be like. We want God to be small enough to fit in a container.

If God were able to be contained in some sort of container, it would be easy (if one wanted to) to share only those parts of that God that you felt like sharing. If there were things about that God you liked, you could open up the container to reveal them; but if there were things about that God you didn’t like, maybe you could keep those things hidden in your container.

People do that, or at least try to. I think all of us do it, to some extent. We latch on to those aspects of God we like, those aspects of God we feel comfortable with; and we hide away those aspects of God we don’t like, or which make us uncomfortable.

Or, maybe, we just leave those uncomfortable parts of God up there on the mountain. Why even carry them around with us? 

If God says “put away your sword,” but we rely on weapons of violence to make us feel secure, well, we’ll just leave that part of God up there on the mountain, and not carry it around with us. 

And if God says, “do justice for the poor,” but we rely on our wealth to make us feel secure, well, we’ll just leave that part of God hidden in the container, and not show it to anyone. 

And if God says, “love your enemy,” but we just can’t let go of our hatred toward that one person who is against everything we believe in, well, we’ll just keep the container closed up, and not show anyone, and tell them they don’t need to see God for themselves, that they should just trust us when we tell them what God is like.

But God cannot be contained. God cannot be carried around in your backpack, and taken out and shown as you feel fit. God is so much bigger than that.

And this bigger God was revealed through Jesus to Peter, James, and John, at the transfiguration. 

It’s interesting that, just before the transfiguration, Jesus asked his disciples who they thought he was. It was Peter who answered, “You are the Messiah.” 

And Jesus commended Peter for his answer. 

But then, immediately after that, Jesus talked about his death and resurrection, and Peter rebuked Jesus for saying that, because apparently that did not fit with Peter’s idea of what a Messiah was supposed to be. 

Peter had this idea of what a messiah was supposed to be; he had that idea in a box. It was an understandable, containtainable idea. 

But the idea that the messiah could die and rise again was outside that box that Peter had constructed. Peter’s understanding of what the messiah would be did not allow for death and resurrection. 

And when Peter rebuked Jesus for saying that the messiah would die and then rise again, Jesus in turn rebuked Peter, saying, “Get behind me, Satan!” 

It was as if Jesus was saying to Peter, “Your idea of what the messiah is is too small. Your idea is too limiting. How dare you limit what God can do? Come on, Peter; expand your understanding. Don’t let your mind limit who God is or what God can do.”

Last Sunday evening, our middle school and high school youth started brainstorming ideas for Youth Sunday, which will take place next month. One of the ideas suggested was trying to understand a God who is known through Jesus, but also through Buddhism and Islam and other religions; and honoring the questions that naturally arise when one ponders just how it is that God can be so big…

And it seemed like such a mature topic. It was, essentially, a suggestion to ponder the God who exists beyond the boxes and containers we have created for God.

Micah 6:8 says “what does the Lord require of you, but to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God.” I often pondered what it means to “walk humbly with God,” but I’ve come to realize it means, among other things, not putting God in a container. 

It means understanding that God is so much bigger, so much more, than my understanding of who God is. It means knowing that there is always so much more to learn about God. It means honoring the questions we have about God, and knowing that, no matter how many answers we may find, that there will always be more questions.

So no wonder we all have slightly different ideas about God—or, in some cases, big differences in our ideas about God.

And even though I went to seminary and have spent 25 years as an ordained minister, studying scripture, I would never claim to have all the right answers about God. I am always learning. I am always listening. I am always asking questions.

And I am learning from you. Already, in small groups, in conversations, and in emails I’ve received from some of you, I am learning. I am growing. I am opening my box, my container, to ideas that I haven’t considered, or ideas that I have overlooked.

And if I’m always learning, always trying to understand more of this God who is so much bigger than I can imagine, it means that the me of five years from now will have a greater understanding than the me of today, which means that the me of five years from now will look back on the me of today and wince at some the things I am wrong about, just like the me of today winces when I look back at the me of five or ten years ago, and I see the lack of understanding I had then.

So, as we all learn and grow together, it’s important to keep our minds open. We value diversity at First Christian Church, and that includes valuing diversity in how we think about God. Your neighbor in the pew may have a different idea than you about some things. Can you at least listen to their idea, and try to understand where they are coming from? Maybe you’ll come to see that they are right; or, maybe you won’t quite agree with them, but you will gain a new insight into what you do believe. 

Sometimes, I’ve had to do this for issues of justice and privilege. When I read or hear someone talking about injustice committed against people because of their race, or about the privilege that white people have in our society, they sometimes come across to me as angry and accusatory, and my initial reaction is to put my defenses up.

But I have learned the importance of truly listening—not just to their words, but to their emotions, and the experiences they’ve had which contribute to those emotions; the pain they have suffered because of how they’ve been treated.

And once I get past my initial defensiveness, I realize there is a lot to learn— I thought I knew everything, but I actually knew very little.

It’s not always easy. It’s often humbling. But to admit that you may not be in full possession of the truth—that there are others whose experiences may help you achieve a greater understanding of the issues we face—is key to growing in wisdom and growing in faith.

At the transfiguration, Jesus was fully revealed. The full truth of who he was and who he is was put on full display. 

Peter, James, and John were there. They experienced it all. But they didn’t quite know what to make of it at the time, and it was just one step in their growth and learning as disciples.

As we prepare for this season of Lent, which starts on Wednesday: may we approach faith with the same awe, the same humility, that the disciples did. 

May we learn to open ourselves to new understandings and new wisdom. 

May we recognize that none of us is in possession of the full truth…but together, as we listen to one another, share with one another, dialogue with one another, pray with one another, read scripture with one another, and be church with one another, we will continually draw closer to God, the one is abundantly far more than we can imagine.

True Colors (Matthew 17:1-9)

  I know a young man who, when he was growing up, was a friendly, well-liked individual, who often wore a smile on his face; but as the years went by, he became more and more distant. I didn’t see him as often, and when I did see him, he didn’t seem to be himself. He didn’t laugh as often, and he didn’t engage in conversation the way he used to. He was present, but a part of him was missing, or at least, was kept hidden from those around him.

It was like he was living in a cocoon.

But then, gradually, he emerged from that cocoon. He experienced a transformation. To everyone else, it looked like he became a new person, but actually, what happened was that, finally, the person he’d always been on the inside revealed itself on the outside.The world could now see what had always been there. 

And because who he was on the inside now matched who he was on the outside, his face shone. His face literally lit up in a way that it hadn’t for a very long time.

This isn’t a story about one particular individual, but about many young men - and women - who I’ve known over the years. Some are relatives, some are friends, some are people in the churches I’ve been a part of. Some of them you know. Some of them are friends and family members of yours.

For some, their transformation happened when they came out as gay or lesbian or transgender. For others, it was finally casting off an identity that had been forced on them— by parents, by society, by the church—and finally being who they felt God was calling them to be. 

And even though I said this was a story about a young man, a few of these individuals didn’t discover their true selves until old age, at retirement, or following the death of their spouse.

But in each case, a part of the person’s identity that had been kept hidden away was finally revealed. And because they were able to live as their authentic selves, their faces shone because of it.

A long time ago, before I became a minister, I applied for a job. When it came time for the interview, I answered the questions as honestly as I could. I was later told I didn’t get the job because I lacked integrity.

Well, something like that sticks with you, doesn’t it? It makes you doubt yourself. And ever since, anytime I encountered that word integrity, I paid attention. And I’ve asked myself over and over: What does it mean to have integrity?

Eventually, I came to the conclusion that integrity means being true to who you are. Being true to who God created you and calls you to be.

And I know now that I did answer that interviewer’s questions with integrity, I was true to what I believed, and I was true to what I felt was right. I did not hide who I was or what I believed. I acted with integrity.

When Jesus took Peter, James, and John up on the mountain with him, he acted with integrity. He presented himself in a way that was consistent with who he knew he was. He allowed Peter, James, and John to see him in that moment when his outer nature reflected his inner truth, his true identity as God’s son.

These three disciples had thus far seen Jesus and had got to know him, bit by bit, day by day. They believed he was the messiah, the one anointed by God to restore God’s kingdom - but like us, they were a little confused about what that all meant. Would it be a king on a throne, like David, commanding armies in battle against their enemies? 

Well, Jesus was like David, but he was also different from David. And God dwelt in him in a way that God had never before dwelt with any human. 

And this is what was revealed on that mountain. And what they saw in Jesus, in that moment, and every moment to come, was one whose identity and purpose was fully, completely, 100%, aligned with God.

God dwells in each of us. And each of us have an identity and a purpose given to us by God. But even in the best of us, the alignment doesn’t quite reach 100%. There is a gap between how we act—how we present ourselves to the world—and how God calls us to act. 

Paul writes to the Corinthians that we are jars of clay. The light of God shines within us, but we are jars of clay - earthen vessels - with imperfections and cracks. God’s desire is for us to be whole, but we are fragmented. We are torn apart. We’re all at least a little broken.

That integrity I talked about isn’t with me 100% of the time. And it isn’t with you 100% of the time. There are times when we fail to live out our true identity - times when we fail to be true to who we know we are; times when we fail to be true to the person God created us to be.

Maybe that’s why I’m so inspired by people like those I talked about at the beginning of my sermon. They faced great pressure to be and act a certain way, and they did act that certain way, even though it went against who they knew themselves to be; but then they got really brave, and said, “No more! From now on I’m going to be true to who I am. I’m going to be true to the person God created me to be.”

My mom was one of those people. Because of when she grew up and where she grew up and the community in which she grew up, she learned to hide a big, significant part of who she was, and present herself as something other than who she knew she was.

And the light started to fade from her life. It started to fade from those around here.

Then, gradually (because these things rarely happen all at once, but, like Abraham’s journey, take place in stages)... gradually, she came out. She said to a few close friends, “this is who I am.” She said to a few close family members, “this is who I am.” 

And let me tell you, it wasn’t easy. Some of us found the light to be a little too bright, at least at first, when we weren’t used to it.

And, like Peter, we may have said some foolish things. “Here, let me make three dwellings…” What is that about? In Mark’s gospel, it says that Peter said this because he didn’t know what to say. 

I can relate. Sometimes I, too, say the wrong thing, because I don’t know what to say.

It wasn’t easy for us when Mom came out, and it wasn’t easy for Mom. She was terrified of letting more and more people see her true colors. And, in other ways, Mom remained somewhat guarded and emotionally distant for the rest of her life.

But her family members who saw her true colors - and Mom grew up in a big family - learned to embrace those colors, and embrace who she was.

And that made it possible—or, at least, easier—for others in my rather large extended family to reveal their own true colors. Relatives who are gay and pansexual and transgender know that, in our family, they can let their true colors show, and that they will be loved and affirmed for who they are—who God created them to be.

And our whole family now shines just a little brighter because of that… 

The religious know-it-alls brought to Jesus folks they regarded as sinners. They said to Jesus, “What should we do with these sinners?”

They called them sinners, because they hadn’t learned to see their true colors. They tried to shame them, which made it even harder for those they shamed to let their true colors show.

But Jesus brought out their true colors. 

Jesus said to those who were brought to him: “These labels that they throw at you—that’s not who you truly are. I know who you are.” And Jesus showered them with love and compassion. His love for them overflowed, just like the perfume that one of them poured out onto his feet, and wiped with her tears and her hair. He embraced them, and their brokenness was made whole. 

And you just know that, as they walked away, and heard Jesus say, “Your faith has made you well,” that their faces shone a little brighter than they had before. They held their heads a little higher, and everyone could see the difference. They had been transformed. They began to see themselves as they truly were: beloved children of God, made in God’s own image—a person that was not perfect; a human who was a little broken—but one who was still very good, and whose true colors were beautiful in God’s eyes.

Uncontained Truth (Luke 9:28-36)

 Do you know who this is?...

Dr. George Fishbeck was the weatherman for Eyewitness news back when I was a child. One way I satisfied my childhood curiosity was by watching Eyewitness News - and I especially enjoyed watching Dr. George. 

Watching became a sort of daily ritual for me - my evening liturgy. It started when Jerry Dunphy said,  “From the desert to the sea, and to all of southern California, good evening…” 

But Dr. George was my favorite. He explained everything so well. I still remember him getting all excited one day because the temperature that day was 82, and if you flip those two numbers around, you get 28, and 82 degrees fahrenheit is 28 degrees celsius, and that’s an easy way to remember it. 

My sisters still tease me about how much I liked watching Dr. George.

Do you know who this is?...

I wasn’t as interested in political news stories. I was a child, and politics was boring; just people talking about stuff I didn’t understand. 

But I paid enough attention to know that the mayor of Los Angeles was a man named Tom Bradley, and I learned to recognize his face when it appeared.

Tom Bradley had been the mayor of L.A. since I was two, and he would remain the mayor until the year I graduated from college. So it seemed perfectly normal that he was the mayor of L.A., because that was all I knew. It was only ever his face that appeared on the TV screen when local politics were talked about.

I didn’t really know much about him, other than that he was the mayor of L.A.  I didn’t know (for example) that his parents were sharecroppers... I didn’t know that restaurants and department stores in the city where he would one day be mayor refused to serve him... I didn’t know that, when he was elected, he was the first and only Black mayor of L.A., and only the second Black mayor of any major U.S. city... 

I didn’t know any of that. All I knew was that L.A. had a Black mayor, and had always had a Black mayor (as far as I knew), and that this was perfectly normal.

It wasn’t until later, when I started to learn more about things that had been hidden from me - the things I was never taught - that I wondered about the challenges he must have had to overcome.

To be clear, the neighborhood I grew up in didn’t have a lot of Black people. My friends in school were mostly white and Mexican and Asian, but not Black. 

I did have a Black algebra teacher in middle school, but again, nothing ever taught me to wonder about the challenges she probably had to overcome. In fact, I was led to believe that all those challenges and struggles were things of the past.

It wasn’t until college that I started to learn that things weren’t quite as resolved as I thought they were. And I had some friends who helped. 

One, a Black student who was involved in campus ministry like I was, asked if I wanted to be his roommate our sophomore year, and I said yes. He was very patient with my ignorance.

Another friend grew up in South Central L.A., and attended All Peoples Christian Church. I really didn’t think there was that much difference between his experiences growing up, and my roommate’s experiences growing up, and my experiences growing up… Although, when my friend from South Central invited me to spend the weekend with him at his home, I admit I was a little nervous. 

Then, in my junior year of college, the 1992 riots took place, and issues of race arose on campus and in the community in a new way. 

When these friends started talking about their experiences - I was startled. When they talked about the racism they experienced, every day of their lives, I wondered if they were exaggerating. Suddenly, they seemed like different people to me.

But it’s not that they had become different. It’s that they felt compelled to share what life was really like for them. They were allowing me to see the truth about them and about society - a truth I hadn’t been aware of.

And having the truth revealed to you like that can be a tough pill to swallow. I mostly kept my mouth shut and listened, which was good, but inside I felt defensive. Defensive, and afraid - afraid that what they were saying about the world we live in was still true.

That fear, that defensiveness - I wonder if that’s similar to what Peter, James, and John experienced up on the mountain, when Jesus was transfigured, when they saw him in a new light, as if for the first time… 

A transfiguration is a revealing, a revelation. A transfiguration is when one’s outer appearance suddenly changes to more accurately reflect one’s inner truth, who you are on the inside. Maybe it’s who you’ve always been, or maybe it’s that who you are on the inside has changed as well.

But suddenly, your outside is changed so that your inner truth is revealed.

Peter, James, and John thought they knew who Jesus was. He was a man who, they thought, was going to deliver the Jewish people from Roman oppression. He was also a person who seemed to have a great understanding of God and faith and the Jewish scriptures, so that many even called him “rabbi.” 

But when his true identity was revealed to them at the transfiguration, and they realized that he was even more than they knew… their response was fear.

This was a man who was able to summon Moses and Elijah, two great prophets from times long ago, to stand beside him on a mountaintop!... to bring them from the distant past - many generations ago - to the present moment!

This was a man on whom the presence of God descended, in the form of a cloud; a man whom God’s own voice speaks to and about, declaring him to be God’s own son!

It was all too much to take in… just like the truth about what Black people in this country continue to experience was almost too much for me to take in.

Peter, James, and John were overwhelmed, and they tried to contain this truth. They tried to package it, frame it, in a way that they could accept. 

That, I think, is the symbolism of Peter’s offer to erect three dwellings. He wanted to contain and control what was going on. He wanted to minimize it. He wanted to put some walls around it.

In the same way, there is a strong temptation for people like me to contain and control and manipulate the truth when truth is revealed to us. We want to make the history of our country and the history of race racism in our country more palatable, more acceptable. We want to build a dwelling in which that truth can be contained, and perhaps even hidden away.

Because if we don’t hide the truth in a dwelling of our own making, then we have to admit that the truth is that racial oppression has been a part of this country’s history from day one. Black people’s ancestors were brought to this country as slaves, and Black people’s status as less than fully human was inscribed into our constitution.

The effects of slavery and Jim Crow continue to play out in our society today. The struggles and obstacles still exist.

And we’re still trying to hide that truth in dwellings that we erect. Teachers who want to teach the truth about race in our country are being censored by white parents who accuse them of making them feel uncomfortable. 

We see racism at work today in the lack of accountability for police violence directed at African-Americans, and in the stripping away of voting rights. 

When schools need to close, or when freeways need to be built, or when industry needs a place to dump their pollution, these things all affect Black communities more than they affect white communities.

But, let’s not bring that up. Let’s not teach it to our children. Let’s build a tent, a dwelling, and stick the truth inside, so we don’t have to look at it.

And while we’re at it, let’s also throw into those dwellings all the stories about how indigenous people were also enslaved in this country, and how our government tried to exterminate them through acts of genocide. “Extermination” is, in fact, a word that was used frequently in the newspapers of California to describe government policies regarding the indigenous people of this state.

But let’s not bring that up. Let’s not teach it to our children. Let’s build a tent, a dwelling, and stick that ugly truth inside, so we don’t have to look at it. So that we don’t have to feel uncomfortable.

That’s the argument of the people who don’t want us teaching critical race theory to our children.

But despite their attempts to hide or deny the truth, the truth cannot be contained or hidden away. 

And in Black History Month, we acknowledge the struggles, we speak the truth… and we also celebrate the accomplishments…. 

…of people like Tom Bradley.

…of people like my middle-school algebra teacher.

…of people like our own Bobbie Smith.

…of people like our own Disciples of Christ General Minister, Terri Hord Owens. 

And so many other Black Americans, who have endured racism and oppression and who have persevered and have lived out their truth, and who have made a positive difference in our society.

I don’t think Peter, James, and John were ever the same, after that day they witnessed Jesus transfigured on the mountaintop. Not only did they now understand him in a new way, they also understood themselves in a new way. The truth had changed them.

And, if we allow it, the truth will change us as well. The truth will transform us.

And we can no longer be silent about the things we have seen, the stories we’ve heard, the truth we’ve come to know.

And when we pray for God’s kingdom to come on earth, we understand that God’s kingdom is a kingdom of justice, a kingdom where Black lives do matter, a kingdom where votes of Black citizens are not suppressed, a kingdom where Black boys can walk down the street with no more fear than any other boys in their community.

And together, we will work for that kingdom, and with the Spirit’s help, we will keep on working for that kingdom, until the day it becomes a reality.