Exodus 24:12 (13-14)15 -16
Psalm 99
Philippians 3:7-14
Matthew 17:1-9
CHILDREN'S SERMON
Do you all know what this is? (Hold up an old kerosene lantern).
That's right. It's a lantern.
Today I'm going to tell you a story about my Uncle Dick and this lantern.
When I was little, about Ch'aska's age, my Uncle Dick started taking my cousin Richard and me to the limestone hills close to where he lived. There were lots of caves in those hills, and sometimes we would spend a whole Sunday afternoon exploring them. I remember this one Sunday afternoon in the fall. It was a bright sunny day and the sky was a bright, bright blue.
Uncle Dick had promised to show us a really neat cave he knew about. It had a really narrow passage that you had to crawl through on our stomach. And at the end of the passage you kind of jumped down and you ended up in this really big room. When you got into the room, you couldn't see the outside at all and it was really dark. But Uncle Dick had a flashlight so we could still see okay. And it was really neat. It was the biggest cave I'd ever seen. There were lots of little niches and shelves in the rock where you could put things and hide things if you wanted.
Well I was looking all around and thinking about how I could make a cool playhouse in there when all of a sudden the flashlight started to flicker. And what do you think happened?
Yup - the flashlight went out and it was pitch black in that room. We couldn't see anything, including how to get out of there. And I was really scared. In fact I was so scared that I started to cry. Well my cousin, Richard, held onto me and tried to tell me it was going to be okay, but I could tell that he was scared too.
Now you know my Uncle Dick by now - do you remember what he always used to figure things out? That's right. He was always and forever solving most everything with a rock. So what do you think he did?
Yup, he gave us each a rock and told us to hold onto those rocks real tight while we asked Jesus to help us out. Well, I held onto my rock so tight that my hands hurt and Richard and I asked Jesus to help us find some light. And what do you think happened next?
That's right. Jesus did help us ... cuz while we were talking to him, Uncle Dick found an old lantern that he'd left in the cave when he'd been in there some other time. And he lit the lamp and I don't think I was ever so happy to see light in my whole life.
And this is that very same lantern.
I've kept it all these years - and whenever I'm really scared and I can't figure out what to do, I remember this lamp - and then I remember that Jesus will always light up the way if I just remember to ask him to help me out. You know when you remember to talk to Jesus, it's kind of like you always have a lantern close by.
Here's some little cards for each of you to remind you to talk to Jesus whenever you need some help.
Today brings us to the conclusion of the short season of Epiphany - a season in the church year that often seems like little more than a breathing space between the busy seasons of Advent and Christmas on one hand, and Lent and Easter on the other.
As a child growing up in the Presbyterian church, I don't recall ever hearing of Epiphany. And since coming to the Episcopal church, I'll confess that I've paid little attention to this season. But when I looked back at the Gospel readings for Epiphany, I found myself drawn to a message of light and hope that feels like a remarkable gift - rather like an exquisitely wrapped package that got lost during all the hustle and bustle of Christmas - and we've just now discovered it peeking out from underneath the couch.
We all know that Epiphany begins with the light of a wondrous star shining in the darkness of night over a little town called Bethlehem. A heavenly light so compelling that it attracted the attention of pagan wise men from afar. A light so insistent that these wealthy men from the east left home and family to travel over field and fountain, moor and mountain following that yonder star.
In the first two readings following Epiphany, the baby whose birth we were just celebrating is all grown up. And he's started a journey that will ultimately lead him to Jerusalem and the cross.
Jesus' first stop on this journey is the River Jordan - where his cousin, John the Baptist, has been preparing the way for the arrival of the Messiah. We read about how the heaven's opened up and the Spirit of God descended like a shimmering dove upon Jesus to announce, "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased."
Now John testifies that he hadn't known Jesus was the Son of God - that it'is only through the light of the Spirit which descends upon Jesus that he is able to identify God's Beloved. The light of the Spirit as gentle as a dove and as urgent as a blazing flame testifies to the identity of this man who's grown up in an obscure northern village called Nazareth - a place that most people of his day have never even heard of.
Our next reading takes us to Capernaum, a small fishing village on the Sea of Galilee in the territory of Zebulun and Naphtali. This little town became the anchor for Jesus' ministry. Much of his teaching and healing ministry occurs within a three-mile radius of Capernaum.
But why does Jesus chose Capernaum? There's nothing particularly notable about it - it offers nothing that can't be found in the other lakeside towns. Matthew tells us that the selection of Capernaum is necessary in order to fulfill the prophesy of Isaiah which goes like this...
"Land of Zebulun, land of Naphtali, on the road by the sea,
across the Jordan, Galilee of the Gentiles -The people who sat in darkness have seen a great light,
and for those who sat in the region and shadow of death light has dawned."
Jesus is the bearer of the light of God's Spirit - bringing that light into the darkness where death has prevailed and there's been no hope of salvation. That light which shown in the dark night over a little town called Bethlehem, that light that descended upon Jesus at the Jordan river, is now shining even brighter and reaching out to even the Gentiles, offering a message of hope and liberation from the chains of death.
Last week Jesus carried that light as he climbed a mountain, sat down, and began to teach his followers. Today that place is called the Mount of the Beatitudes, and those who've been there tell us that from its crest one can see all the places where Jesus lived and worked. It's here that Jesus gives us a new law - a law that brings light to world weary of war and famine.
Most likely Jesus sits on a rocky crag, with the brilliant afternoon sun shimmering on the Sea of Galilee below, when he reveals this new law - when he turns the world upside down by bringing the light of God's love, the lamp of God's mercy, and the glow of God's grace to a world that has tried and failed to find its own salvation.
In today's Gospel, Jesus again climbs a mountain. And it is here that God reveals the full brilliance of God's light that is to be given to the world.
The light of a single star shining in the darkness is now blazing as it's revealed in Jesus himself - his face shines like the sun and his clothes become dazzling white. Out of a bright and brilliant cloud God speaks once again, "This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!" No doubt remains. With each passing week, the light has grown brighter and brighter - and now even Moses and Elijah have come to testify to God's incarnation in Jesus of Nazareth - Jesus is indeed the light of the world.
Wow! What a story. On the eve of our Lenten journey, we are given the gift of a glorious light. A light that will never be extinguished - a light which will always be there to illumine the way when we find ourselves in those dark places of our lives that seem like an endless black tunnel...a light which promises that no matter how dark, or how long the tunnel, it will always be there to lead us out of the dark and back into the daylight.
When I think about it, I'm reminded of a story - a story about a woman and her daughter...
This mom and her daughter had a close relationship which they both cherished. Among the many good times they'd had together, one in particular always stood out. They'd decided to hike up a nearby mountain side one afternoon, taking a picnic lunch with them. The day was perfect - the warm sunlight of early spring, the air filled with the songs of the returning birds. They laughed and sang together - enjoying the day with abandon.
When they arrived at the top of the mountain breathless and laughing, they didn't notice the bank of ominous-looking clouds that was gathering in the west, nor did they pay much attention to the wind that was blowing up.
So it seemed as though it was out of nowhere that they suddenly found themselves lost in a deluge of cold, bone chilling rain - the ground becoming increasingly slippery and their footing becoming more precarious by the minute.
The day that had begun so light heartedly had suddenly turned into a darkened blur of breaking branches and sliding rock. Mother and daughter clung to each as they tried to find some sort of shelter. And as their panic grew, their tempers began to flare. "Stop pulling on me, I can't keep my balance!" "Mother, you're pushing me into the rock - move over!"
Then as suddenly as it had begun, the storm was over. The wind calmed, the rain stopped, the sky began to lighten - and as the dark clouds began to break up, the golden light of the sun shone out from behind them promising the return of warmth and light and hope.
They were captivated by the intensity of that light - and as they sat on a large rock drying themselves in the warm air, they began to reflect on their experience. They agreed that whenever they found themselves feeling like they were lost in the midst of an angry storm again, they'd remind one another of that golden light.
A few weeks later, things at home weren't going all that well. The mother had lost her job, and money was tight. Both mother and daughter were tired and edgy, and they got into an argument. The mother spoke harshly to her daughter and the daughter stormed off to her room, slamming the door behind her.
After several hours, the mother, still fuming and angry, headed upstairs to her daughter's room, determined to get things settled. When she looked at the note taped to the door, her anger faded. There was a glow to her smile.. as she read the words on the note - "remember the light."
The Season of Epiphany begins with the light of a single star and the worldly gifts of the three wise men.
It ends with the radiant gift of a heavenly light that will never be extinguished - a gift which reminds us that no matter how dark and hopeless things may seem - God's promise of the light which comes with the Holy Spirit is always with us to lead us out of the dark and back into the daylight.
Between now and Wednesday, when we officially begin our Lenten journey, you might want to recall those moments of golden light in your life - recall them, dust them off and polish them up, making of them a lantern to illumine your way on your own journey to Jerusalem.
AMEN