Today was my first Sunday to give the homily as a deacon. I decided to share it with anyone who wanted to read it. I more or less followed what’s here, though I added in a bit in a couple of places as the Spirit moved me. In my effort to constantly learn and grow, please share any feedback you might have; I’m not story-telling when I say that I truly value constructive criticism. I’ll add in other homilies, including my Ash Wednesday homily and some more general thoughts on Lent later this week. Peace to you.
Transforming: Second Sunday in Lent, 2013
As I rode with David last week, he rang the bell hanging from his rearview mirror, his “Anti-Rage Bell,” when someone cut him off in traffic. I’ve seen him do this many times over the years. But then he commented on how he’s been working on becoming a better driver over the past few years and on something he has noticed about himself as he does so. “When I am focused on improving myself, I don’t have time to worry about what other people are doing.” Then, as he often does, he added, “There’s a sermon in there somewhere.” I told him, “Actually, it’s my sermon for Sunday. Pretty please, may I steal this?” He agreed, so I guess he technically lent it to me.
So much of our lives, we focus on what other people are doing. We compare ourselves to others; we try to keep up with the Cosbys and the Cleavers and separate ourselves from the Simpsons and the Griffins. We feel notions of superiority when we avoid some pitfall that others don’t—even when it’s sheer luck, or There But for the Grace of God Go I that we aren’t in the same situation.
As a social worker, I interact with people every single day whose lives are in turmoil. Oftentimes, it seems people bring about their own troubles, that they are responsible for their own problems. It’s easier—and much more comfortable—to ignore the systemic malfunctions that factor in just as much, if not more. I forget the built-in advantages that I have in my life, the barriers I will never, ever face as an educated, straight, white, American woman. I forget the role I play in perpetuating these barriers and challenges every time I fail to do something to challenge them.
It’s not just big issues like that though. I do it every day. “Thanks for cutting me off, jerk!” I yell, conveniently forgetting that I just waved sheepishly to the driver behind me when I realized I was about to miss my turn and cut her off so I wouldn’t.
When I get caught up in these traps, when I fail to see the log in my own eye because I’m too busy pointing out the speck in yours, I’m missing out. I’m not taking advantage of the opportunity to grow myself, to improve my own behaviors, to become more Christ-like, because I’m too busy judging someone else.
Paul implores us to be imitators of the life that Christ called us to. In the Gospel, we hear about Jesus being physically transformed, right in front of Peter, John, and James, his face changing, his clothes becoming dazzling white. We learn that the voice of God calls out to the disciples to tell them, “This is my chosen Son; listen to him.”
We know from the Gospels of Matthew and Mark that Jesus admonished Peter, John, and James to be remain silent at what they’d heard. Jesus often instructed his followers to fast, to pray, and to do good deeds without drawing attention it, without seeking acknowledgment or praise for it. We aren’t to do these things for the attention of others, but for the glory of God.
I’m not gaining much when I wear my actions on my sleeve, when I do something and expect, consciously or unconsciously, to receive something in return for it. My transfiguration is something I can do inside my own life, in my own daily activities, inside the scary recesses of my own head.
Instead, our transfigurations come when we focus our attention on being good for the sake of being good, when we put others first. We have endless opportunities every day to share our gifts. We have talents and gifts that we may not even be aware of that will transfigure our lives, and the lives of those around us, if only we will permit it.
Let us use this Lent as a time to focus, a time to turn our energies to our own transfigurations. Jesus’ transfiguration on the mountain can be an example to us, an invitation to transfigure ourselves into people who are closer to God, to transfigure our lives to more closely reflect the life of Christ.
Amen.
Thanks for reading all the way to the end. As a special treat, have some pictures of me and David. I promise I wasn’t mad. I just look that way when I’m in deep concentration, I think. I need to remember to smile more in the future.
At table
Sharing the gifts
discern this 