Today we celebrate a glorious event in Jesus’ life on earth —the Transfiguration. In our music and in our scripture, we are invited into the scene of heaven meeting earth with Jesus Christ at the center.

The lessons tonight contain two stories of dramatic experiences of humans encountering God. In the first lesson it is Moses’ followers who witness the event, actually events, as each time Moses went up the mountain to encounter God, his face shone so brightly that he had to cover it when he came off the mountain. In the gospel, it is three of Jesus’ disciples, Peter, John, and James who see this same light shining in Jesus’ face as he prayed. In both readings, those who watched were overwhelmed by what they saw and heard. There were heavy clouds, bright lights, glowing faces and visions of the giver of the Law (Moses) and the greatest of prophets (Elijah). The disciples, we are told, also heard God speak, using words they could understand. God called Jesus his beloved son and instructed those present to listen to him. These living, breathing humans were given the gift of knowing without a doubt, that they were in the presence of God. How spectacular!

While we gathered here this evening, may not have had an exact replica of these events, I wonder, have you ever had such an experience? Has there ever been a time for you when you have known, known in your body that you were in God’s presence? 

Many of us have traveled to the mountains or been to the ocean. We’ve seen sunsets over the water and looked out over the cliffs and marveled at the magnificence of God’s vast creation. 

We have had the aesthetic experience of appreciating the beauty of the world around us. However, today’s biblical experiences were holy events, not just aesthetic ones. Have you ever witnessed such a holy event? 

  Maybe your theophanies were not as dramatic as these described in today’s lessons, but I feel certain that some of us have had similar experiences. These moments can happen most anywhere. Perhaps you were on a mountain top as in the lessons today, or maybe in a church, or sitting with a person near death or even looking at the vast expanse of central Illinois cornfields! Theophanies can happen anywhere.

Perhaps you have not had such a first-hand experience. Don’t worry, you are in good company. Remember only three of Jesus’ disciples saw the transfiguration with their own eyes. The other nine heard about it and experienced it through the others’ words. 

Whether it was a personal experience or something you learned about vicariously, I ask you to recall when and where you were, at the time you knew without a doubt, that you were in the presence of God. Remember, for a minute. Where were you; what did you see or hear or feel?

What was your reaction? 

Perhaps like Peter you wanted to stay right there in the moment. “Let’s build some dwellings and remain here.” Maybe you just took it in, paused, became quiet and focused on breathing.

Or maybe you wondered about your own perception of reality. “Is this really real?”, you may have thought. In hearing another’s experience you may have doubted the truth of their words, at least at first. 

Or perhaps, like the Israelites during the exodus, you were so overcome you could say or do nothing; your awe at what you were experiencing caused you to stop, you froze in both time and place. Holy fear overtook you.

All of these are possible reactions: wonder, skepticism, fear, inability to move, and awe.

I ask you to recall how you reacted in the moment, when it happened to you, or when you first heard of it happening to another.

And then, what is it like now when you remember it? 

Most likely, I would expect most of us to be like Peter, in that over time the spectacular nature of what happened faded but the memory of it brought strength and comfort in tougher times. In today’s epistle, this was true for Peter as he faced his death. He had seen God’s glory and knew he would see it again.

The disciples saw and heard about Christ’s transfiguration prior to the agony of his crucifixion and death. This must have brought them much comfort as they sought to comprehend the glory of his resurrection. 

For the Israelites, seeing Moses come down from Mt. Sinai, having spoken with God and glowing with being in God’s presence gave authority to the words he taught. Certainly Peter, John, and James had a different respect for Jesus and his authority as God’s son, following the Transfiguration.

This strength came from reflecting on what had happened to them. At the moment these glory-filled moments occurred, they were not even able to describe it. The awe of the realization of being in God’s presence is not easily described in words. One knows it has happened. It is through reflection, the value and meaning of the occurrence becomes clear.

We each are invited to glimpse God’s glory, whether in our own remembrance or in hearing the stories of holy scripture. We are called to pause and reflect on these rich experiences. And then we can draw strength and courage from having met God in these spectacular moments. Our belief in God’s authority is strengthened through these glimpses.

Tonight we hear of heaven meeting earth, with Christ as the center.

“Jesus took with him Peter, and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem…A cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, “This is my son, my Chosen; listen to him!” When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone.”

 Tonight we bask in this description of God’s glory and give thanks that we share in Jesus’ life.

During last week’s sermon on the letter to the Romans, Deacon Chris reminded us of the unfailing love of God. Her sermon ascended to the place Paul reaches at the end of Chapter 8. 

I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor power, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (8:38-39). 

This is an expression of total confidence in God’s mercy. We should rely on it. But how then, did we feel when Paul’s words turned so dramatically in our lesson today? 

I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my own people…

It’s a big shift in only a few verses.

Nothing can separate us from God’s love; yet Paul wishes to be separated, “cut off.” St Paul stands between these two poles of confidence and prayer – convinced, to the fullest extent possible, of God’s mercy toward all; but then still worried, praying, and wishing. Why? 

The short answer is unbelief. Paul was in anguish over the response of most of his people to the Christian message. We cannot forget that the Church started as a movement among Jews. Jesus was Jewish, the 12 apostles were Jewish; nearly all the earliest disciples were. But, quickly, Christianity became a movement among “Gentiles,” the goyim, the non-Jewish nations. We can see this change take place in pages of the New Testament itself, not least in the Acts of the Apostles. As the message about Jesus spread, as he was proclaimed as Israel’s Messiah and Lord, many Jews responded, but many more Gentiles responded. Within a generation, the Church was filled with those who had no claim on the traditions or culture of Israel. 

How could this be? As St Paul says of the Israelites, “To them belong the adoption, the glory, the covenants, the giving of the law, the worship and the promises; to them belong the patriarchs, and from them, according to the flesh, comes the Messiah.” It’s their Bible we’re reading; their Psalms we are singing; their traditions we inhabit.

The Lord made himself known in a particular way to this people. He appeared to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, giving them a calling in Canaan, the Land of Promise. He rescued their descendants from Egypt during the Exodus. Through Moses, he gave them the Law and the tabernacle in the desert and the prayers and the sacrifices. His glory shone out among them in the pillar of fire and the cloud, and he was with them through their long years in the wilderness, in the Promised Land, during the time of the Judges, during the monarchies, during the Exile and return. Israel was like God’s firstborn son. He spoke to their prophets. They had a rich heritage, a unique faith and calling. It was not yet ours.

So when the Messiah came, how could they not believe? Wasn’t this the whole point: their faith in him, their salvation through him, their allegiance to him? Why would God work so patiently through the centuries, molding this people, forgiving their sins and restoring them so many times? Why -- if in the end they would not believe? It seems incredible.

“I am speaking the truth in Christ,” Paul says, “I am not lying; my conscience confirms it in the Holy Spirit – I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart for the sake of my own people, my kindred according to the flesh.”
 
You may have felt this kind of anguish before. Perhaps you have an unbelieving son or daughter, an unbelieving mother, father, cousin, co-worker, friend, spouse. You have someone whom you love dearly and yet do not fully understand, because you believe and they do not. I have felt this sorrow for family and friends: it’s not like everyone I know goes to church. 

And when it comes to the faith and heritage I felt this sorrow, too, on another level when I was serving as a priest in England -- as an American, working for the established Church, with its parishes in every community, its influence felt everywhere, and its congregations that are so small. Less than 3% of the English population attends an Anglican church on any given Sunday. It’s shocking. This is the church whose cathedrals the world travels to admire, whose music is the glory of choral singing, whose literature has inspired countless generations. This is a church of real saints (and some notorious sinners). This is the church that sent missionaries around the world and formed the Anglican Communion. Yet the Church of England is dying, and the English people less to do with it every day. There, as priest for that people, I may have felt some of the great weight Paul bore, when he said, “I could wish that I myself were accursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my people…”

It felt so strange to minister among the English. I’d look around me and think: All this belongs to them.

Of course, we might say this in a different way about the Christian faith in America. Christianity has flourished on this continent. There is a heritage here with worship going back centuries. This faith belongs here. And yet in each generation, adherence slips, and our understanding of that Christian heritage diminishes or is distorted.

Faith is a mysterious thing. There is something about it that we do not understand, that Paul himself could not understand. As he writes in Romans chapter 11, “How unsearchable are God’s judgments and how inscrutable are his ways!” 

What is God doing in each human heart? Why do some believe and others only doubt? 

With St Paul, “I am convinced that neither death nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come…shall ever separate us from the love of God.” And yet I find myself in sorrow over many who will not believe. 

I want everyone to know the joy that we have, to know what it means to feel the love and support of God I want to repeat to them the words of the prophet Isaiah in our first reading: “Come!” 

Everyone who thirsts, come to the waters; and you that have no money, come, buy and eat! Come buy wine and milk without money and without price.

The grace of God is present. It is for you. It is for your children and all whom you love. You are thirsty, do not deny it. You are wasting your time on so many things while here there is food, water, and life. The Lord is opening wide his hand to satisfy the needs of every living creature. Do not close yourself off. 

Jesus stands on the shore of the world, looking upon that great crowd, the whole human family, and he still has compassion. As in times of old, as in the story relayed in our Gospel today, he means to stay with those who need him. He sees the hungry and the thirsty. And he gives a command to his followers: “Give them something to eat."
 
It’s important for us to hear this, in our times of anguish, when we see the need around us, both material and spiritual. “You give them something to eat.” We wonder what God is doing for the unfaithful; well, he is doing something in you for them. “Give them something to eat,” however small your efforts may feel, however meager. Christ took five loaves and two fish, a little picnic, and he fed a multitude: 5000 men “besides women and children” with 12 baskets left over. 

It is not for the Church to puzzle out what is happening in each human heart. We do not know how God shall resolve his judgments respecting this or that person. That’s not for us. This is for us: “Give them something to eat.” Imitate God in his continual love and mercy. Open wide your hand and fill others with blessing. 

While I do not usually wear T-shirts myself, I do get a smile every so often when reading what is on others’ torsos. It’s a bit like reading bumper stickers. One shirt I saw recently said, “If Paul were here, we’d be getting a letter! It had a picture of a stamp and those words, “If Paul were here, we’d be getting a letter”.

I wonder, what might a current letter from St. Paul to the Champaign-ians, contain?

From our reading of the letter to the Romans this summer we know that Paul usually writes about a mixture of things in his epistles. He often has comments about cultural issues of the particular time and place. Sometimes he writes about theological issues facing first century followers of Christ, and always he addresses God’s love for humankind and how humans are to pattern themselves after Jesus. Often the Sunday scripture passages these past weeks have included all three topics. Paul has commented on cultural matters, theological disputes, and the depth and greatness of God’s love for all! 

So, what might Paul have to say to us today? He might have a word or two about Christian conduct or morality. Perhaps he might say “Remember Champaign-ians, you have a responsibility to those less well off than you. Can’t you do something about the rise in gun violence in your community?” Or, “Can’t you do something to provide safe housing or food for all in your area?” Or, … 

Perhaps Paul might have an opinion on current theological differences, maybe the issue of women in clergy, or the Christian definition of marriage, or providing safe churches for all… Or,…

Certainly, his letter to Champaign-ians would remind us of the importance of God’s gift of his son. He would also write about the meaning of God’s immense grace for all believers. These are lasting truths, not dependent on the year or place of his text. Paul would most certainly challenge us to be in right relationship with God, molding ourselves to be more Christ-like.

With these thoughts, let’s look at today’s passage from Paul’s letter to the Romans.

Paul’s audience for this epistle is the community of Christ’s followers located in Rome. This community included both Jews and Gentiles. Up until this time, Paul’s ministry to spread the Gospel had been mostly to Gentiles in Asia Minor and he was traveling to Spain to continue the same. His journey would take him through Rome, and this letter preceded his actual meeting of those followers of Christ. An issue for the Roman community, as a mixture of Jews and Gentiles, was the question, would the Gentile converts need to become Jews, to follow Jewish law and customs, and to be absorbed into the Jewish ways? Would those who believed that Jesus was the Messiah, gradually convert the Jewish church from within? Or, would being a Christian be separate from being a Jew? 

I think we know how that controversy was settled from our vantage point. But this is why Paul speaks to the question of predestination. Jews were God’s chosen people. This theme runs throughout the Old Testament. So, in the mind of some of those of Jewish heritage the new converts would need to follow the Jewish laws to be a part of God’s chosen. Paul, even though a Jew himself, was on the other side of this argument. Being followers of Christ did not require following Jewish law. Through Jesus’ death and resurrection, God expanded salvation to the whole world.

Not wanting to get into the thorns of Calvinism versus Arminian interpretation, and personal versus group arguments for predestination, I choose to leave this part of the passage to Paul’s answer to the issue of the time. Gentile believers in Christ were equal participants in receiving God’s grace and the church would not depend on following the Law. God’s call to follow him and to be in right relationship with him was for all.

Even though not specifically stated in this passage, I also think Paul’s belief had room for personal human choice in the issue of being called. 

Topics of theology and culture are things Paul wrote about in most of his letters. He had great intellect and he could talk about the faith in this way. 

However, in today’s passage, Paul changes. He moves from intellectual argument to personal conviction. He is not just talking about the faith. Rather he takes the message of God’s love to a personal level. When he uses the words hardship, distress, persecution, and so on, he knows each of those terms as something he had gone through himself. Paul had been persecuted, faced nakedness, hunger, threats of death and other perils. They were not just theoretical topics; they were real events he had experienced.  He knew first-hand that his sufferings did  not remove him from God’s love. This was personal, not something to talk about but rather something to know and feel deep inside.

Life was not easy for Paul. 

In all honesty, Life is not easy for most of us. Or perhaps I should say, life has its difficult times. 
 
In the words one sixth grade Urbana teacher repeated often to her students, “Life is not fair.” Twelve-year-olds need to hear these words. Maybe at some level we all have not forgotten being 12 and need to be reminded of this. Life is not fair. 

Most of us have had hardships and distress in our lives. Maybe we give thanks for having escaped persecution, famine and the rest, or maybe not. We each have our own story. It becomes personal, not only to Paul, but also to every human being. It is a part of our existence. Life is hard and often may seem unfair.

And yet, Paul, reminds us that it is Christ Jesus who died, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who intercedes for us. So, then, what is it that can separate us from the love of God?

There are many reassurances in this passage, many reasons to hope. Even when we are beaten down from life’s difficulties, the Spirit can and does pray for us. We are precious beings to God. When we suffer Jesus knows exactly what that is and Jesus is right with us, in those sufferings. We are not alone in our difficulties. 

Especially at the worst times of our lives, we need to read and remember Paul’s experience. These are not mere words. These are Paul’s conviction of the depth of God’s loving support. We are never abandoned, even in times when we think we cannot feel his love; God is there. 

Paul tells us that God is able to bring good out of any circumstances, even those that are incredibly painful. This does not mean that those bad things become good, but rather that in the middle of all circumstances, God is faithful. And as God was faithful to Paul, God is faithful to you and to me. Even during suffering and death God’s love is solid, unwavering and the source of peace and comfort.

This is why the end of the 8th chapter of Romans is often read at funerals. It brings hope and comfort to those who are in the middle of loss and grief. 

But it is not just at the time of death we sorrow. Paul’s words offer hope whenever we are separated from what we have known and loved. This passage offers comfort in all times of hardship and distress and loss. 

Life is hard, sometimes harder than others. And these verses heard this morning carry the eternal truth that God is always with us. He will not ever abandon us. 

As we may think about what Paul might have to say to us in a letter today, we realize we don’t really need such a letter. Because, in all his writings, Saint Paul’s focus is on the work of God; what God has done and what God continues to do to show how much he loves us. These truths are lasting truths. This letter to the Romans carries the same truth to all readers throughout the ages wherever they may be. 

Remember, Paul is not just talking about truth. This is not one of his philosophical arguments. Rather, he is giving his whole self, his whole experience, sharing his deep conviction of his belief in Christ. Hear again, Paul’s words.

“What then are we to say about these things? If God is for you, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? Who will bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God who intercedes for us. Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written, “For your sake we are being killed all day long; we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered.”

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Amen, Paul, amen.

A hundred and seventy thousand soldiers have surrounded one small town in the hills of Israel. The siege is in its second month; the cisterns are empty, and the children are fainting in the streets. The leaders have given up: unless God acts within five days, they will surrender. That is how the Book of Judith begins, with Israel at its weakest. No army, no water, no hope. And God's answer is not an army but one widow, Judith. Where the leaders count the enemy and despair, she prays. She prays at the very hour the evening incense is offered in the temple in Jerusalem, far away, and we heard that prayer this morning: your strength does not depend on numbers; you are the God of the lowly, the helper of the oppressed, the savior of those without hope. Then she walks alone into the enemy camp carrying no weapon, and with the general's own sword God delivers Israel by her hand.

That is the teaching of the book: God saves his people not through their strength but through their weakness, when weakness turns to him in faith. And that is what the Gospel shows us on Easter morning.

Mary Magdalene's whole life with Jesus began in weakness. Seven demons had gone out of her, Luke says: she had been helpless under a power she could not master, and Jesus freed her. So she followed him and provided for him. She stood near his cross when most of the disciples had fled. Early on the first day of the week she came to his tomb in the dark and found it empty. Peter and John came, saw, and went home. Mary stayed. She had nothing left but grief and the need to be near her Lord, and she stood outside the tomb and wept. And the God of those without hope came to her first. She did not recognize him; she took him for the gardener. Then he spoke her name: Mary. She turned and knew him, and he sent her to his brothers, and she went and said, I have seen the Lord. She did not find him; he found her. She did not win the victory; she received it and carried the news to the apostles, and through the apostles to us. Once again, God's strength did not depend on numbers.

This is the example set before us: not strength, but faith in weakness. Judith's faith was to pray when the town had given up. Mary's was to stay when the others had gone home. God's way with his people has not changed. He hears the weak who turn to him; he calls them by name and sends them. The collect asks for exactly this: that by his grace we may be healed of all our infirmities, and know him in the power of his endless life.

Today we are celebrating the feast of St. Peter and St. Paul. You may find it interesting that we celebrate a feast where the two of them are commemorated together. This, however, is not the only time we commemorate Peter and Paul during the year. On January 18th we commemorate Peter and his confession of Jesus as the Messiah, and on January 25th we commemorate Paul's conversion. But here we remember them together because of their shared end as martyrs in Rome. Both brought the Gospel to Rome. Paul was eventually granted the dignified death by beheading afforded to Roman citizens, while Peter was crucified upside down.

Our readings today point us to each of their deaths. In the Epistle, we hear Paul say, "the time of my departure has come. I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." And in the Gospel we read of Christ foretelling the way in which Peter would die.

Feasts and commemorations are meant to guide us. To form us. To show us something about the way we are to live ourselves. Today we are being reminded of death, and of the way two leaders of the church died. They died sharing the Gospel. Proclaiming the good news of salvation for sinners. That God had become man, destroyed death, and made a path for all people to once again be in the presence of God.

This proclamation is also present in each of our readings today. Peter confesses his love for God, and Paul urges Timothy to proclaim the message regardless of what trials may come. He urges Timothy to remain consistent with the Gospel message and not exchange it for something new. 

Paul warns that "the time is coming when people will not put up with sound doctrine, but having itching ears, they will accumulate for themselves teachers to suit their own desires, and will turn away from listening to the truth and wander away to myths." Proclaiming the Gospel, and proclaiming it boldly, consistently, and accurately, is a difficult task. One that Paul foresees.

While this day is largely a call to be leaders and proclaimers of the truth, and a reminder that we will likely have to endure suffering on account of the counter-cultural nature of the Gospel, it is also a call to be careful followers. Followers choose their leaders. Paul warns that followers strongly desire to find teachers who will tell them what they want to hear rather than the truth that is more difficult to hear. While it is true that we should all be leaders in the bold proclamation of the Gospel, we will not all be leaders of the Church in the same way that Peter and Paul were. Every one of us, however, will be followers regardless of our leadership status. We must be careful about who we follow. We must be discerning about whether we are looking for leaders who simply tell us what we want to hear rather than leaders who speak the truth of the Gospel.

This is what leadership looks like. It looks like martyrdom. It looks like people who are not celebrated by our societies, but accused by them. It looks like people who are patient in their teaching and remain committed to the Gospel as it has been handed down to us over many generations. We should seek leaders who fight the good fight, who keep the faith, who lead us to proclaim the Gospel to all people, and who truthfully guide us toward a death that will result in our attaining our own crown of righteousness