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It was a cross-roads church in a rural area.  The preacher wound up his eloquent sermon with a question:  “Now–are you standin’ on the PROMISES…or are you sittin’ on the PREMISES??”  This Second Sunday of Lent involves the question of What’s Beyond?,

or what are our ongoing hopes and dreams as we realize that we shall be Easter People?

Abraham and his faith figure greatly in this discussion of Holy Covenant.  You remember, of course, that a Contract is an agreement where one party will do such-‘n’-such IF the other party will do theirs.  But a Covenant is not dependent on The Other:  each party expects to play their part IRREGARDLESS of the behavior of the Other.  So it is in Genesis 17:1-7–God promises Abram/Abraham to be “exceediingly fruitful; and I will make nations of you, and kings shall come from you.”  This Covenant extends to all of Abraham’s offspring: we believe ourselves to be such, even though adopted by Christ’s love!

St. Paul picks up this thread in his Letter to the Romans (4:13-25).  The Apostle reminds us that this promise of Divine Inheritance comes not through the Law (“I’m good; or at least, correct”) but through Faith (” I believe, help my moments of doubting”).  Abraham hoped against hope that he would become “the father of many nations”–although he was 99 years old!  “No distrust made him waver concerning the promise of God…” (v.20)  He was “fully convinced that God was able to do what he had promised.”

Mark’s concise Gospel includes this Promise of Jesus:  “Those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.” (8:35)   Often described as a paradox, it’s more than double-speak from a mystic.  This promise sorts out those who’re content with their own kingdom from the fewer who deny themselves–getting off their ego-trip–to pick up “their cross”.  This “cross” isn’t just the endurance of a trying situation or the bad hand dealt by Fate.  The “cross” is a mission deliberately chosen, painful or deadly as it may be.

Holy Promises are born out in so many personal ways.  These weeks of Lent are our annual invitation to consider the richness of our lives despite our stumbling in the dark.  God’s steadfast love continues to beckon us to God’s hospitality and table, prepared for the Children of Abraham and not revoked.  When “all other ground is sinking sand” it’s good to have somewhere to stand…

What’s gonna happen when all this snow melts? The river & creeks are already jammed with ice. Hopefully, the thaw will be incremental, and lowland flooding will be minimal. Water, both frozen & liquid, can be powerful, life-changing and relentless. Land-loving Israelites feared the chaos-monster of Ocean, and the Leviathan which swims in it. Taking the plunge of Baptism demanded an active faith!

“When are we gonna get off this smelly ark? Forty days, Lord, forty days! As much and more as my fingers and toes TWICE! And will you be angry again, enough for another Flood??” No, said the Lord, and the rainbow will be the sign of the covenant: “When I bring clouds over the earth and the bow is seen in the clouds, I will remember my covenant that is between me and you land every living creature of all flesh; and the waters shall never again become a flo0od to destroy all flesh.” (Genesis 9:14-15) So Grace comes AFTER the Flood, a New Beginning made holy as the water receded.

The Letters of St. Peter always seem to ramble; where’s he going with this? Sunday’s reading (I,3:18-22) has to do (I think) with God’s providential sparing of Noah & Family from a watery doom…and that our Baptism is our own deliverance from the Flood. This is a stretch, but does tie in with the New Beginning beyond the water of ritual death. Again, Grace.

Mark’s account of Jesus’ Baptism and what followed is much more concise than those of either Luke or Matthew. (1:9-15) Yet in this brevity we can capture the flow of Grace which happened after: forty days where the wild things are (not the ark, but like it), and then a proclamation of the immediacy of the kingdom of God. God continues to provide, even (and especially) After the Flood.

Floods are terrible. Mud and mold in every nook & cranny, and total destruction of furniture and appliances. A loss of pictures and memories. We who’ve been flooded feel invaded, victims of unstoppable natural forces. Angry, we feel as though trust and stability will never come again. Our readings for the beginning of Lent acknowledge our frailty–and also remind us that Grace happens After the Flood.

God Bless Us, Every One Horace Brown King

Charlie Brown and Linus are lying on a sunny knoll, watching the clouds. “I see the
Battle of Waterloo,” says Linus. “There are the British regulars and grenadiers, over there is the French cavalry. What do YOU see, Charlie Brown?” Charlie Brown replies, “I see a clown; and a ducky.” More recently, I’ve learned that my words and data all live forever in The Cloud, somewhere in cyber-space. Early mystics spoke of the Cloud of Unknowing, a fogged-in spiritual condition where the only choice for safe passage is to put your hand in God’s. “I really don’t know clouds at all.”

On this upcoming Ultimate Sunday of “Aha!” we remember the Transfiguration of Christ. We’re to remember that Jesus is God as well as Human, and thus to watch for the Holy in our daily living. The Old Testament reading recalls the story of Elijah being swept up into heaven in a fiery chariot, II Kings 2:1-12. EliSHA, Elijah’s apprentice prophet, walked “across the Jordan” with him. “Elisha said, ‘Please let me inherit a double share of your spirit.’ He responded,’…if you see me as I am being taken from you, it will be granted.'” Elisha kept watching, and saw Elijah ascending into the clouds.

St. Paul speaks of similar sight which is more than our eyes can bear. He says that the god of this world (greed, anger, intolerance) “has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God.” (II Corinthians 4:4) But God the Creator of Light shines “in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.” We see Jesus from both sides now.

Jesus took his closest friends, Peter & James & John, to a high mountain; and it seemed to them as if his clothes became “whiter than white”. “There appeared to them Elijah [the Prophets] and Moses [the Law], who were talking with Jesus.” (Mark 9:2-4) “Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” (v.7) Remarkable! Watch for the Holy in our daily living…

“Transfiguration”, then, has something to do with Being Changed. The question becomes, “What then changes, the seer or that which has been seen?” Beyond debate, we experience those timeless moments when our vision changes from merely that of our eyes to our inner being. As the Season of Epiphany concludes, we can say that we’ve looked at Jesus from both sides now. What visions of rapture are yet to burst on our sight?

God Bless Us, Every One Horace Brown King

Magnificent creatures, they soar higher and higher, into the Sun: unlike Icarus, their wings won’t melt. Ben Franklin liked turkeys better; for eagles symbolized centuries of Roman oppression. A two-headed eagle has been seen on central European banners and shields, invoking determination and endurance. PEANUTS reminds us to “walk softly and carry a (b)eagle”. We’re told that parent eagles shove their offspring from the nest, when it’s time; and fly beneath them with wings outstretched until the fledglings successfully fly.

The weekends cause us to rise to new horizons of hope and trust. The Old Testament reading leans on Isaiah of Babylon, who writes to his mourning exiles, “the Creator of the ends of the earth….does not faint or grow weary;…He gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless….but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles.” (40:28-31) This is about us, about God, and about how God takes care of us when we’re in free-fall.

Once in a while, the lectionary selections just don’t seem to fit together; and this is one of those times. I Corinthians 9:16-23 is a passage from Paul encouraging diversity and a wideness of spiritual expression. New horizons, maybe? But I can’t find a feather of eagle-ness here, how about you?

Being healed by Christ can qualify, though, since we’re speaking about Providential rescue from un-wholeness. The Gospel is Mark’s sequel to last week’s story about healing the demon-possessed man in the synagogue. Here, he heals Simon’s mother of a fever; and later, the “whole city was gathered around the door.” (1:29-34) Jesus cured many, and cast out many demons. These may well have remembered Isaiah’s words.

More than twenty years ago, my father was dying of cancer. I was fearfully preparing to re-enter pastoral ministry after a three-year mid-life crisis. Writing out my angst, this appeared —

When brittle bones have loosed connecting strings
Which bind them one to one in structure fair
My earthbound soul is born on eagle wings.

Most human flesh against its aging flings
Contempt of grinding fate in reckless dare
When brittle bones have loosed connecting strings.

Through growing children, seed, whose laughter rings
Across the days which now become their share
My earthbound soul is born on eagle wings.

An impotence of feeble body stings
My transient hope of missing death’s grim snare
When brittle bones have loosed connecting strings.

That holy trust to which my vision clings
Is freshened only when by heightened prayer
My earthbound soul is born on eagle wings.

Still quavers my small voice which gamely sings
To woo the wintry warrior from his lair —
When brittle bones have loosed connecting strings
My earthbound soul is born on eagle wings.

God Bless Us, Every One Horace Brown King