Homily August 13, 2017

As Preached by Brother Christopher
Holy Wisdom Chapel

Many years ago I remember the time that Archbishop Iakavos, the Primate of the Greek Orthodox Archdiocese came to visit New Skete. He stayed with us for a weekend and after sharing Divine Liturgy with us on Sunday, he accepted our invitation to speak informally with the Monks, Nuns, Chapel Community and visitors. Sitting at our dining room table during coffee hour, he graciously answered a variety of questions we asked him. I’ll never forget his response to a question about the time he marched with Dr Martin Luther King Jr to the Selma Courthouse in 1965, something that was, at the time, highly controversial. He replied, “Unlike most of you, I was not born in the United States where I could enjoy democracy. I came from Turkey, where I was a 3^rd class citizen. So when Martin Luther King had his walk to the Selma courthouse, I decided to join him. It was my way of witnessing against all those who would oppress other people. Some called me a traitor... others said I should be ashamed of what I had done because I had violated the tradition of how a hierarch should behave publicly. I even received death threats. But in my heart, I knew that at that time I had to stand publicly with all those who were oppressed, whose civil rights were being violated.” What a paradox: at that time in 1965 Archbishop Iakavos was the public face of Orthodoxy, on the cover of time magazine with Martin Luther King Jr, a traditional bishop acting in the most “untraditional” of ways.

Tradition is a precious gift that has been passed down to us from the past. Tradition – from the Greek ‘paradosis’ – ‘to hand down’. Each of us understands that the faith has been passed down to us as an act of love. We are accountable for it.

However, there is such a thing as tradition with a big T and tradition with a small T. Tradition with a big T is the Gospel law of love, the commandment of God. This is tradition that is always unyielding, always to be obeyed. But then there is tradition with a small “t”, tradition that is merely custom and human convention, not law and never absolutely binding. It is simply how we’ve always done things. Whether it’s nuns wearing veils, monks wearing klabuks, chanting X amount of stichera at Vespers, or particular fasting practices, so much of our religious practice is built on convention and not on gospel law. That doesn’t make it good or bad. It is simply how things are done in a particular place.

Throughout his ministry, Jesus recognized that people could get hung up on tradition with a small “t” and miss the bigger “T” tradition. And he was absolutely resolute in challenging this whenever he encountered it. This morning’s Gospel is a perfect example of this: Jesus confronts the scribes and Pharisees because they were using small ‘t’ “traditions” for their own selfish ends. And notice how he throws Isaiah back in their faces: This people honors me with lip service, but their hearts are far from me... their reverence of me is worthless.”

The real test of our faithfulness as disciples of Christ is not our conformity to small “t” tradition, but always looking to follow the Gospel of love. Whenever religion gets stuck in small ‘t’ rigidity, we dishonor the core tradition that Jesus passed on to us: Love one another, as I have loved you.” 

Sermon 148; Mal 2:5-7, 3:20-24; Acts 13:25-41; Mk 9:2-13 Pilgrimage Saturday of Transfiguration

As preached by Brother Luke

Holy Wisdom Church

“Don’t tell anyone what you have seen…” --Mk 9:9

Whenever I think about the feast of the transfiguration the expression that immediately leaps into my mind is to “see the light.” I wonder if that expression might have this feast as its origin. The light surrounding Christ is a central feature of the story. This feast is about seeing the light that illumines the deeper reality of who Christ is.  But what happens when we, or in this case, the three apostles, see the light? Does the reality of the event become immediately clear? The tradition, as expressed in the icon of the transfiguration, would seem to indicate that the apostles are bowled over and thrown into confusion rather than brought to a new and clearer awareness of the reality of Christ. So, seeing clearly in the moment may not be the message here. The Transfiguration of Christ may not be violent as an explosion [the atom bomb], but maybe what is happening here is a clearing away of our expectations and preconceived notions so that a new opportunity to see clearly emerges.

        After all, the apostles had lived with Jesus for a long time. They heard him preach. They ate with him. They traveled with him. Now they are about to approach his passion and yet they remain in the dark about what is really going on. It reminds me of driving a car into either the morning or evening sun. Rather than being illumined by the light, we are blinded by it. And it’s scary! Our first inclination might be to pull over, stop the car and wait until the angle of the sun changes enough so that we can get our bearings and see again. A reasonable and human response, but not often possible. No surprise then that Peter proposes setting up shelters for Jesus, Moses and Elijah to freeze the moment. But that moment passes as quickly as a turn in the road moves the sun into another less threatening trajectory and we heave a sigh of relief. Moses and Elijah are gone and only Jesus remains. And in their confusion and bewilderment, Jesus guides his three companions back down the mountain to the reality of his passion and death that will unfold in a relentless and steady way. The moment on the mountain is not to be talked about now, it is to be reflected on as the days pass and then understood after the resurrection.

        Isn’t it often true that we understand confusing circumstances in our lives through twenty-twenty hindsight? It is the later reflection on what happened that finally helps us “see the light.”  And isn’t this an axiom of life? If someone does something that triggers anger in me, the best response is to wait and reflect first, not to immediately react. A marriage falls apart; it may not be best to marry the next person you meet! Lose a job; don’t sign up for the first available position, but rather take the unemployment check and do a thorough search for the right position for you. And elsewhere, what does Jesus say? Slapped in the face? Turn the other cheek. This is not to encourage us to become floormats for others but rather to avoid taking the easy route of immediate reaction that will simply escalate the situation rather than resolve it. So, the Transfiguration of Christ may very well be about the transfiguration of the moment as much as the transfiguration of the person.

Today, we are very fortunate to have Dr. Roberta Ervine as our guest presenter who will speak to us this afternoon about this idea of transfiguration as understood and depicted in the Armenian tradition.  I encourage all of you to come back here at 1:30 for her presentation. I know you will not be disappointed.

Christ is in our midst! 

Homily: Feast of the Transfiguration:

As preached by Sister Rebecca

August 06, 2017

Holy Wisdom Church 

     This morning’s Gospel describes Peter, James, and John witnessing Jesus’ transfiguration: “His face shone like the sun and his clothes became white as light”… Peter’s immediate reaction was to make three tents:  for Jesus, Elijah and for Moses.  He no sooner said this that a bright cloud cast a shadow over the disciples and then from the cloud, a voice said:  This is my Beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased, listen to him”.  Upon hearing this they were full of fear and all fell on their faces.

Instead of tents that Peter would like to make, a different kind of tent, not from human hands, covered the disciples, as in the hymn at this morning’s matins:  

     “You were transfigured on Mount Tabor, O Jesus, and a shining cloud spread out like a tent covered your friends with your glory.  The hymn continues: “At once they turned their gaze earthward, for they could not bear the sight of the unapproachable glory of your face, O Savior Christ.”   I would like to pause here to reflect on the shining cloud that covered the disciples and their inability to sustain the sight of the uncreated Light shining forth from Jesus’ person.

     First of all, the luminous cloud spread out like a tent covering the disciples:   This imagery is full of meaning.  One important aspect of it: it is a cloud blinding our normal, everyday consciousness-that is, our minds that reasons, plans, figures things out in our daily.  This luminous cloud trans-figures the ordinary mind.  It goes beyond trying to figuring things out, like Peter not knowing what to do about this awesome sight. It is not a question of doing something: it is a question of being.   This luminous cloud may be described as the Cloud of unknowing, or rather a deep heart knowing of awe and wonder, which cannot be contained by anything-even words.  It is beyond human control; it points to a divine visitation in what the Gospels call Kairos Time, Eternal Time, God’s time and the Kingdom of God. It is in this ‘space’ that the 3 disciples hear the Word of God piercing through their hearts:  “This is my Beloved Son,..listen to him.”  Just prior to this event they all heard Jesus words about his passion and imminent death.  However, they heard the words but missed the meaning; they were unable or unwilling to listen, that is, catch the meaning.  Even after the Transfiguration experience, they still did not get it. They fled during Jesus’ passion and death.           

Transfiguring experiences or enlightening ones are not immediately transformative.  It will take the coming Pentecost experience for this to happen in them.

    What about our lives?  Can we relate to transfiguring experiences?  Yes, even when we share in humanity’s broken condition.   There are cracks in the soul where Light and new life can break through.

This is alluded to by Gerard Manley Hopkins when he describes the world as ‘charged with the grandeur of God” or Elizabeth Barrett Browning who presents a similar image: 

“Earth’s crammed with heaven

And every common bush afire with God;

but only he who sees, takes off his shoes.

The rest of us sit round it and pluck blackberries.” (Eliz Barrett Browning: Aurora Leigh)

     Both Hopkins and Browning were able to experience the grandeur and sacredness the Divine Light because their inner eyes welcomed awe and wonder.   What smites us with an unquenchable amazement is not that which we can grasp or control.  The overemphasis on reasoning and doing ends up on the shore of the unknown.  The ineffable dwells in the immense expanse beyond our everyday mind.

     True transformation begins when we let go of control, grasping, and willful trying to figure out our life’s direction.  The mystery of transformation we are reflecting on more often happens when something old falls apart-a deep hope, an ideal.  The pain of something falling apart invites the soul to listen at a deeper level and this sometimes forces the soul to go to a new place-the liminal space of the cloud of unknowing.  Transformation needs to become a process of living in the confusing dark space for a while and allowing ourselves to be spit up, like the prophet Jonah onto a new and unexpected shore.

     Wonder transforms perception.  It gives us new eyes. Nothing we do can produce wonder.  We can, however, be open to it and welcome it.  We can make space for it.  The setting can be wherever we find ourselves. Now, I invite us to simply clear a space within ourselves and pray:

Jesus, as you made your light shine on that glorious day, now let it shine on our souls, O Gracious master.”