The Old Man's Statue: Romans 5.12-21

There was once a man who lived in a quaint village on the coast of the sea. This village was picturesque like you might see in an artists rendering of the typical New England fishing village. This man was quiet and unassuming. He was the kind of man who blended in to any crowd and never stood out. No one would have ever noticed him except that he had a passion. He loved the sea. He wanted everyone to be able to share in the love of his life. The problem was that the village was surrounded by cliffs. The rapidly changing tides made the waters around this village often dangerous and even the most sea-faring of captains could quickly find themselves in danger.

The old man had a plan. He began organizing a volunteer coast guard. He trained the volunteers on navigating the treacherous currents. He trained the volunteers on open sea rescue techniques. He supplied the village with a safety net so all the people could enjoy the sea, without worrying about getting in too much trouble. One foggy evening, the old man heard cries for help coming from the nearby cliffs. He awoke with a start. He tolled the bell, but no one came. He had a decision to make. Should he go out alone – something he trained the volunteers never to do – or should he wait for help? Should he go rescue the people himself, or should he compound their danger by waiting for help? He went alone.

When he arrived, he found a vessel with a dozen or so people on board including women and children. It was taking on water as it had been dashed upon the rocks. He tied the boats together and as they listed together, he got every man, woman and child aboard his boat. As they returned to harbor, they all watched helplessly as their boat disappeared beneath the fury of the seas.

Word spread quickly throughout the town as the sun peaked above the now quiet seas to the east. This quiet, unassuming, ordinary man was a hero. The town council called an emergency meeting. After a brief meeting, the bells of the town hall beckoned everyone to come for a special town-hall meeting. At the meeting, the community decided to commission an artist to sculpt a statue in the man’s likeness to honor his work with the coast guard and to remember this amazing act of bravery.

One year later to the day, the town was gathered yet again. This time, however, it gathered on the town square. In the middle of the crowd was a large tarp. With a quick woosh, the tarp was removed and the statue was unveiled. The crowd erupted in cheers as all the crowd applauded this brave man.

For years this statue stood as the centerpiece of the quaint harbor town. But one night, some youth from a nearby village came to town looking for trouble. They were loud and obnoxious. They egged windows and they slashed tires. Then they came upon the statue. At first they egged it too, but then they spray-painted it, then they began climbing on it, and pushing it and pulling it, until finally it toppled over and lay – smashed to bits – on the ground.

READ ROMANS 5.12-21

This season of Lent is a reminder that we are all sinners and it was because of our sin that Christ suffered death and was buried. Paul explains our sin and our guilt by drawing our attention to yet another story. It too is a story of one who has a passion. It too is a story of one with a great love. It too is a story of a creation made in the likeness and image of the loving one. It too is a story of that beautiful creation being smashed and shattered, lying helplessly in pieces on the ground.

That one who is full of love is God. The fullness of God’s love moved him to create a whole race in God’s own image. We are that creation: you and I, our friends and family, those who live in the next house over and those who have no house to call their own, the most innocent of all babies and the most guilty of death row inmates. Whether Christian or Muslim, gay or straight, black or white, we are all the same. The Almighty Creator crafts us each in the image of his holy-love. The divine Word of God brings us each into being from the dust of the earth. The very Breath of God breathes each us to life. We are all the same, in the life business together.

And we too are all together in the sin business. I can just image a young child sitting around the dinner table. As all little children are, this one too is quite inquisitive. She asks, “Daddy, Mommy, why is the world so evil? How did sin get in the world?” Mommy and Daddy look at one another. Mommy speaks. “Well, you remember how you asked how the whole earth got here and we told you the story of Creation? Do you remember Adam and Eve? Well Adam and Eve lived in a garden and God told them they could eat anything they liked except for the fruit of one specific tree…” You all know how the story goes.

Paul explains it for us. Sin entered the world when Adam sinned. The presence of sin in the world is not because God put it here. Sin entered the world, and with it all kinds of evil leading to death, when Adam chose his own way rather than Gods. It is interesting that though we usually understand Adam as a specific person, the name Adam means “humanity.” In Adam’s act, all of humanity stands united as we face the consequence of sin, which is death. And so, Paul says, when Adam sinned, we all sinned and for our sin we will all die. We lie together on the ground, the image of the creator smashed to bits within us.

During Lent, we stand united as the holy church of Christ – just like we all stood together in Adam – recognizing our sin; recognizing our guilt. Our standing together becomes kneeling together as we confess together that we have sinned, that we fall short of the glory of God. United we sinned, united we confess. But the focus of Lent is not the sin. The focus of Lent is the cross. It has been said that a Christian is but a sinner who gets up facing the cross. And so Paul says, just as one man’s sin condemned us all, so one man’s righteousness justifies us all. Just as by one man’s disobedience, the many became sinners, so too by the one man’s obedience the many will be made righteous.

Just as we all stand united in Adam, so too we all stand united in Christ. In Adam we all sin; in Christ we all are saved. In Adam we all find death, in Christ we all find life. Just as we were made sinners by the act of the one man, so to by the act of the ONE we are all given a free gift. That gift is our freedom; that free gift is a new life. That is truly good news.

But the news just keeps getting better, for the free gift is not like the trespass. How so? Two words: much more. The free gift is much more than the trespass. The free gift is far greater than the trespass. Paul is quite explicit about how abundantly greater the gift is than the trespass. It is certain that sin entered the world. It is certain that the world in which we live is deeply sinful. It is certain that we are all condemned to die. Aside from taxes, death is the only certainty we have in life. But, Paul says, if that much is certain, then it is much more certain that the gift is given freely to the many. If death is certain, it is much more certain that in Christ we all have life. So regarding the reality of the gift, we can be much more certain than we are of the reality of sin. Regarding the effect of the gift which is life, we can be much more certain than we are of death. The gift is much more than the trespass. The gift is far greater than the trespass.

There is one other way the gift far surpasses the trespass. That is the quality of the gift. Now, I suppose it would suffice for the gift to equal the trespass. It only makes sense that we only pay back that which we owe. So I suppose the gift would simply have to forgive us of our sins. “Therefore just as one man’s trespass led to condemnation for all, so one man’s act of righteousness leads to justification and life for us all.” And there it is. By Jesus’ act of righteousness we are all justified and have life. There is really no need to go any further. But Paul doesn’t stop there. He says much more, for even the quality of the gift is far greater than the trespass. “For by the one man’s disobedience the many were made sinners, so by the one man’s obedience the many will be made righteous.”

Not only does Jesus justify us – not only does he free us from death and give us life – he does much more. He doesn’t just forgive us our sins, he purifies us from all unrighteousness. The season of Lent is captured in one small but profound prayer. “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right Spirit within me.” Yes, He forgives us. Yes, He gives us life. But he goes much further and he does much more. He makes us righteous. He makes us holy, just as He is holy.

PAUSE

When the sun rose the next morning, the town’s people didn’t know what to do. The image of the beloved was shattered and destroyed. So they called the sculptor. They begged her to come quick. When she arrived in town they quickly brought her to the town square where her masterpiece lay unrecognizably, in pieces on the ground. They begged and they pleaded for her to find a way to put the statue back together and restore it to its original beauty.

The sculptor collected all the pieces, took them back to her studio and began the difficult and painful task of recreating this work of art. One year later, to the day, she was finally done, she covered it and brought it back to the town square. The people waited with baited breath to see if she had been able to make it as it was. With the familiar woosh, the statue was revealed and the people gasped. “You did not restore this statue to the way it used to be!” the people questioned. “No,” said the artist, “I did not. It simply would not do to restore the statue, I recreated it and now it is much more than it ever was before.” She was right. For now the statue was far greater: much larger, much stronger and much more beautiful than any of them could have imagined.

The people wept with joy. They mayor stepped forward to greet the magnanimous sculptor. A smile radiate across his face. “How can we ever thank you,” asked the mayor. The sculptor looked first across the crowd and then deep into the mayors eyes. “You owe me nothing,” she said as she embraced the mayor in her arms. “Consider it,” she said, “a free gift.”

To the glory of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Transfiguring our worship - Matthew 17.1-9

Today we celebrate the Transfiguration of our Lord. As we will see, the story has much in common with Moses’ ascent up Mt. Sinai as well as well as Christ’s own Baptism. Understanding the Transfiguration may be a bit easier if we could read Greek, for the word from which we get Transfiguration is metamorphothe, a word that is probably better understood by us than is Transfigure. We think immediately of the fuzzy caterpillar, which withdraws within its cocoon and emerges a magnificent butterfly. That said, I must confess to you all I am always a bit dumbstruck by the prospect of putting the Transfiguration of our Lord into words. As the great George Buttrick noted, “I have never dared preach on the Transfiguration: it is the shekinah [the glory] of the New Testament. I shield my eyes and bow my head…” With such a posture, let us hear the Good News of our Lord Jesus Christ, as told by Matthew. Matthew 17.1-9. Hear the Word of the Lord.

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Did you catch any of the parallels? If you recall, the Baptism of Christ was the first Sunday of this season of Ordinary Time and today is the last Sunday of Ordinary time. So the two stories make somewhat of bookends around this season. Let’s start our look there, with the bookends. Both stories revolve around the central character of Christ, and both develop with a profound theophany. A theophany is an epiphany (you all remember what that is right? When someone gets it!) about God. It is when God reveals Godself in a dramatic way. Both stories are theophanies where God is revealed in Christ. In both stories, God is revealed visually and audibly. In the Baptism, God is revealed as a dove, and in the Transfiguration God is revealed in a cloud. The truly striking similarity is the voice of God. In both instances, the voice of God says, “This is my son, whom I love. With him I am well pleased.” So here we see God, at the major shifts in Jesus’ life, giving love, affirmation and authority. It happens both when Jesus’ life transitions from preparation to ministry, and when his life transitions from ministry to the cross. God is there.

The startling similarities are even greater as we consider the Old Testament lesson we looked at with our children. It is a part of the larger story of the people of Israel. Israel’s story really comes to life as they emerge from the waters of the Red Sea and into freedom. Their faith is put to the test as they wander through the wilderness. Often they grumble about being hungry and thirsty. The wilderness of temptation is sometimes too much to bear. Then we come to our lesson for today. Moses goes up the mountain, and spends six days there as God’s glory appears in a cloud as an all-consuming fire. On the seventh day, Moses is called for a face to face with God. Thus he enters the cloud, receives the law, and is sent back to his people only to find they have grown tired of waiting and built for themselves an idol. Back to life as usual.

In a very similar way, Jesus ministry came to life as he came out of the waters of baptism. Following his baptism was a period of intense temptation. It was a period including the traditional story of temptation but also including Jesus’ struggle with that which lay ahead and his announcement that indeed he must die. Jesus’ trip up the mountain, like Moses’ happens after six days. The glory of God is revealed in a cloud and the voice of God is spoken audibly. The stories are eerily familiar.

So why do we spend our time looking at all the similarities? Because it will help us to note the differences. There are several differences, but one stands out true to the spirit of Transfiguration. That difference is seen in verse six. “The disciples were terrified and fell face down on the ground.” I talk quite frequently of worship as our response to the revelation of God. Finally, the disciples get it. Finally, they fall down and worship the Lord. Finally they give a proper response to recognizing God in their midst.

We must be careful not to be too harsh on Peter, James and John. Moses & the Israelites had their moment as we saw today. The ending of that story is quite telling. Moses spent forty days on the mountain receiving the Law. When he descended back to the people, what did he find? He found worship. But it wasn’t worship of God – it was worship of a golden calf. In his anger, Moses shatters the stone tablets. He confronts Aaron. Aaron makes excuses. Moses gathers the Levites. The Levites kill 3,000 of their friends and family. This is a far cry from falling face down in worship.

In the story of Christ’s baptism, you recall, John and Jesus debate about who should be baptizing whom. Jesus finally wins, he comes up out of the water, God descends in the form of a dove, God’s voice proclaims the divine sonship of Christ, and Jesus heads straight for the wilderness, where, like the Israelites of old, he was tested. No mention of worship there either.

The disciples’ falling on their faces stand out because Matthew wants it to be perfectly clear that the only fitting response to God revealed in Christ is worship. The disciples fell flat on their faces with fear we are told. It may sound strange, but their fear really helps us to understand the nature of our worship. Their fear will also help us transition into the Lenten Season that will begin Wednesday as we celebrate the Service of the Ashes.

Holy fear is not that much unlike terror fear. It is a result of realization that two unlike things, that cannot exist in one another’s presence, are indeed together. For instance, I hear a window break – I hear footsteps. I know someone is in my house and both of us cannot exist peacefully there together. Or you go to work in the mill. When you are around a blast furnace, or molten metal, I dare to say there is probably a healthy awareness that you cannot exist in the presence of that heat. You would be completely and instantly consumed. I think it is fair to call that awareness fear. Aweful tragedy occurs when that fear disappears. When that fear quits producing precaution – when that fear abates and you are not as careful as you ought – when fear recedes and you no longer respect the thing to be feared, bad things happen.

At the Transfiguration, the disciples come to an awareness that they are in the presence of holiness. They realize, instantly, when confronted with the holiness of God, that sin and holiness do not mix. Darkness cannot exist in the presence of light. Because of sin, humanity cannot exist in the presence of divinity. The disciples are suddenly quiet aware of this and are helpless to do anything but acknowledge the holiness of God, while at the same time acknowledging their own unworthiness, and they fall face down – call it fear – call it worship – call it whatever you want.

We are mere mortals, and we have no business mingling with the likes of God. We have all sinned. We have all fallen short of the glory of God. We are all unworthy to be in the presence of such an awesome and holy God. And yet, so often we treat worship like we are going over to Bill and Ted’s house to watch a football game. So often we treat worship like a phone call to our cousin Eddy. So often we treat worship like a family reunion so distracted by chitchatting with those around us that we miss the profundity of coming into the presence of God.

There is only one reason we are able to enter the presence of Almighty God, and that reason is Christ. The only reason humanity and divinity can come together is because it came together in Christ – fully God and fully human. The only reason we sinful mortals can enter the presence of His Holiness is because our sin has be covered, and we have been redeemed by the blood of Christ – the perfect sacrifice. They only reason we who are in the dark can come into the presence of the Eternal Light is because the eternal light came to us in the person of Christ – the resurrection – who endured the darkest of darkness and transformed it into the light of holiness. He came, he died, he was raised again. Now he lives forever in each one of us so that we too may be transformed… we too may changed… we too may metamorphosized… we too may be transfigured so that our lives now shine, like Christ’s, with the light of his glory and holiness. How great is our God! And all we can do is fall flat on our faces, filled with fear and trembling, awe and worship to the glory of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.