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March
23, 2003,
7:00 PM Service
By Rev. Dr. G. Penny Nixon
"Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and
John and led them up on a high mountain apart by themselves. And he was transfigured
before them, and his clothes became dazzling white such as no one on earth
could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking
with Jesus, and then Peter said to Jesus, "Rabbi, it is good for us to
be here. Let us make three shelters; one for you, one for Moses and one for
Elijah." He did not know what to say because he was terrified. Then a
cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice: "This
is my beloved child, my Beloved. Listen to this One." And suddenly, when
they looked around, they saw only Jesus standing there."
I want us to think about this text, particularly the two witnesses that Jesus
drew to his side, Moses and Elijah. Also, think about the context. So much
had been going on that Jesus drew away to the mountainside. He was aware that
he was about to enter a time of great trial and suffering. On that mountaintop,
he drew to his side, Moses and Elijah; Moses representing the law, Elijah,
the prophet, both drawn from his Jewish tradition which he practiced his entire
life.
And so I ask you tonight, think for a moment about these times, a time of
fear and anxiety and a world chaotic and out of control-- who would you bring
to your side for wisdom? Who would you draw forward to help remind you of who
we are, who you are. You know, when times get really tough, you seek to return
to deeply grounded traditions. We say here at MCC San Francisco that we are
a spiritual community grounded in the Christian tradition, exploring and affirming
many paths to God. It's important to be grounded in a tradition even though
we have many different paths to God because at times like this you return to
time-tested tradition so you don't have to invent responses. There's a long
history of response to war in the Christian traditions. It's important to return
to them and it's important to return to the values that we hold in this place.
I have to say, that I struggled all day with what to say, particularly in
these times. You know I want to be funny, you know I want to make you laugh,
because I know that there's not a lot to laugh about right now. I want to somehow
draw you in and offer you comfort and some peace. I hope that happens in many
ways for you tonight. Certainly, I don't know what you brought with you through
the door tonight; but, I want you to know, I'm so grateful for the men's retreat,
their going away to a mountainside and being transfigured all weekend long.
That's a great thing. Retreatants, please share with us that energy and that
strength. And, for those of you visiting tonight, I want you to have a picture
of who we are at MCC and to realize that you've come to us at a very difficult
time in the world. I really feel compelled to remind us of who we are, here
in this place called MCC San Francisco, and to remember the values that we
hold most deeply. Though we may be on a hundred different paths, we hold certain
values that we must return to at this time.
I read a poll done by the Pew Institute this week that said only 17% of the
people surveyed said that their faith had any effect on their views of the
war. Hopefully, in these times you are turning to that deepest part of yourselves
and embracing beliefs you hold. So let's remember a few things that we hold
here: name something we do every time that we gather on Sunday evenings. We
pray...sing... this table...open...right? What do we say every week? "You
do not have to be a member of this church or any church... Come as you are...However
you are, to this table. Can you imagine coming up for communion and somebody
saying, "Oh, sorry, we ran out"? No, because that never happens.
What we try to practice here is that there's always enough food for everyone.
Perhaps, if we do this long enough, the practice will be mirrored and all will
proclaim: Let everyone have enough food. Another value practiced here is everyone
has a place at this table. And if that value doesn't translate into how you
think about what is going on in the world, then what are we thinking about?
You know, let's sing camp songs and have cookies and Kool Aid, and go home.
Picture this: when you see Iraqi people on the news, can you picture that body,
that person, that face at this table? Doesn't that image make you think differently
about what is going on? This transition, this new point of view, comes from
our deepest values, values we hold so dearly.
It is no contradiction of held values to be able to honor a soldier for his
great sacrifice. And as we weep and pray for our POW's at this moment, can
we even imagine what their families are going through. Can we imagine what
the people of Iraq are going through even as we sit here. We can honor that
soldier and we can honor the protestor in the street that gets arrested. Because
these people are mirror images, in some sense, of great armies—a quarter-of-a-million-plus
men and women; armies in the Mideast right now, and another quarter-of-a-million-plus
armies in the streets around the world, all committed to doing what they think
is right and that is to stop evil. In this “house”, we can stand
for peace and non-violence and the dignity of all people and the sacredness
of bodies; we can believe that goodness is stronger than evil, and love stronger
than death, and that transformation is always possible We can hold it all,
because in the compassionate heart of God, there is a place in that heart that
is beyond any ideas that we have of right doing and wrong doing.
The minute the language and rhetoric of war begins, we have a language that
is very "we" and "they." And we know in this place that
that is deadly. Because we have been the "they" far too often and
we stand up as queer people and say "No. We do not do that. We are us." It's
bad grammar, but it's good philosophy.
How many people felt really angry this week? Good, anger is a good thing.
Anger means that you care. Anger means that you know at some very deep level
that something is wrong about human relations in the world. Your anger helps
you to be present in that moment. It helps you to be present to yourself. Have
you ever felt so angry that you just felt hot all over? That's being very present
and in this moment. You and I have the opportunity to remember that anger occurs
because you care and realize something is amiss, and that you have the opportunity
to extend and deepen human relations and that is called love. So when you are
angry, remember that you can use the power of anger for the work of love in
the world. Every social movement that has ever changed history has started
because people got really angry that things weren't right. In your anger, do
no harm, but work for love. And remember, you have the capacity.
If you want something concrete to do as a person of faith, perhaps some of
you saw the letter that I wrote to the Islamic Society on Thursday saying I'd
attended Friday prayers at the mosque on Jones Street. I wrote saying that
the MCC San Francisco sanctuary was always open to them and should they ever
feel at risk worshipping in their own space their congregation would be welcomed
in our House of Prayer for All People. You can take an individual action, if
you'd like, to show your solidarity with American Muslims in this country and
around the world. Fill out a membership application to the Islamic society
of America. You can be an honorary member and stand in solidarity with all
people in this city who are coming under increasing scrutiny by our government,
by the FBI, and so on and so forth. You know that Arab-American hate crimes
are on the rise and will continue to be. If you would like show your solidarity
and I encourage you to do so, let this application be a statement of your faith,
and your deeply held values for the dignity and worth of all people, of the
sacredness of bodies, and the honoring—the deep honoring—of all
religious traditions that in their essence call for peace.
In this time, as you return again and again to what you deeply believe, let
your hope be like the grass that stubbornly grows up through a crack in a cement
sidewalk. Where ever there's the tiniest crack, grab it and feel life fully
and always have hope. When you are angry, remember, it is an opportunity to
love. When you feel like being a "we" and "they" remember
our history. Remember who we are in this place and remember joy. I believe
that at the transfiguration, what happened was this one called the Christ,
simply got in touch with the depth of his joy and the brilliance of it was
almost overwhelming. So as André Gied, the great French writer on homosexuality
says "Remember, joy is rarer and more difficult than sadness." So
remember joy as a moral obligation. And in these times of fear, in these times
when you don't know what to think, remember joy and remember that miracles
do happen and that every breath you expend for peace and every step that you
take towards non-violence, in spite of the contradictions that live in all
of us, you do make a difference. Be part of this great wave of peace spreading
across the globe--always remember you are not alone.
Amen
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