If I got only one word to
summarize today’s stories, I’d go with “shiny.”  Moses gets all
shiny after connecting with the Divine, and the disciples see Jesus
go all shiny on a mountaintop while being blessed by God.

If I got only one word to
describe life right now, it would absolutely, positively NOT be
shiny.  War is not shiny.  It is camouflage, rubble, blood and tears.
Attacking trans kids in Texas isn’t shiny.  In some cases, this is
an ACTUAL desire to prevent some kids from wearing shiny and glittery
things.  Attacking trans kids is a formula that increases suicides,
it is a deadly attack with many years of repercussions.  And, just in
case you missed this memo, pandemics aren’t shiny either.  Used
surgical masks on the sides of sidewalks might be a good image of
this pandemic, and that’s just … shine-less.  Exhaustion and
languishing aren’t shiny.  

Nope, right now isn’t shiny.

And yet, I can remember shiny.
Very little in the world shines like a Pride parade, with glitter and
sequins in the brightest of colors, and outfits that reflect the sun
itself.  I can remember Easter mornings with people dressed up in
bright shiny outfits, singing loud with along with shiny a brass
quintet and wishing to be able to just extend the moment of wonder as
long as possible.  I can remember Sunday morning breakfasts with a
full Fellowship hall when someone got triggered and upset, and others
had the patience and grace to help the person calm down and even feel
safe.  Shiny.

I can remember shiny.

And now isn’t shiny.

Except, every once in a while,
when something breaks through despite it all.  I’m not sure if
anything is shining exactly.  Maybe I could say that some moments
shimmer.  When my kid snuggles in close, while my cat purrs, and my
partner reads, and the sky lights up with sunrise.  There it is.  A
tiny, shimmering moment.  When the banjo is played during the
Contemplative Prayer service and people close their eyes to let
themselves sway along.  Shimmers.  When, during Family Faith
Formation, a kid asks a grown up other than their own to watch them
go down a slide, and trusts they’ll be affirmed.   Shimmers.  When
someone reaches out to the church and asks, “would I, a trans
person, REALLY be welcome?” and I can say “Yes, you REALLY are
welcome, just as you are,” because I know it is true in this church
and that MATTERS.  Shimmers.

I don’t want to pretend
everything is OK.  It isn’t.  Sometimes it feels like NOTHING is OK,
but that isn’t true either.  Life is a complicated both/and.  Things
aren’t OK, and yet God shines through in expected moments anyway.
Things aren’t OK, and love is still here.  Things aren’t OK, and most
of the time most people are doing their best.  Things aren’t OK, and
yet some things ARE OK.  Both/and.  

Which is why I’m landing on,
“this moment in time isn’t shiny, but there are shimmers, and I’m
trying to notice them.”  

But, before we talk about that
anymore, let’s look at our stories again.  They’re interesting, and
they raise a lot of questions.  The gospel story is clearly forming
itself as a new telling of the Exodus story, which suggests we may
learn a lot by noticing the differences.  

It has been suggested that the
10 commandments were groundbreaking in that they understood YHWH to
be one who cared about how people treated people, and not just about
sacrifice or worship directed at a divine being.  Even more so than
monotheism, presenting God as one who cares about a just society and
moral treatment of others, did NOT reflect the religions of that
period of the Ancient Near East.

The story of Moses coming down
the mountain with the 10 commandments in hand reflects how central
this moment was to the people.  This was a story of WHO they were,
why they lived as they did, who they wanted to be, and how they
decided to be that people.  

Stories that matter that much
are often superimposed with extra meaning, to help people pay
attention.  Perhaps, even, they’re superimposed with extra light.

The story says that Moses was
SHINING when he came down the mountain, and it scared people.  In
fact, it seems he stayed shiny for quite a while, and in order to
keep the people more comfortable, he wore a veil to cover the shiny.
(This is terribly interesting in that veils are much more commonly
associated with women in that part of the world.)

The shiny is definitely meant to
communicate that some of God’s holiness has rubbed off on Moses,
which clarifies that he was a sacred messenger, and the 10
commandments were God’s own idea.  The shiny imbues the commandments
with sacred authority.  The shiny tells the people that their God
REALLY cares about their treatment of each other, and creating a
society of justice and equity.

This story is then a part of
what Luke uses to establish Jesus’s authority, his connection with
the Divine, to clarify that his message is also blessed with sacred
authority.  Jesus, also up on a mountain, also connecting to God,
also gets shiny.  Jesus is seen “with” Moses and Elijah,
sometimes called “the law and the prophet,” the one who shared
God’s vision (the law) and the one who called people to account for
it (the great prophet).  In the midst of the shiny and the law and
the prophet comes an EXPLICIT communication from God “This is my
Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”

OK, so clearly this is also
about the authority of God’s chosen to communicate God’s vision.  It
also seems to pass some of the authority onto the disciples who are
the ones who have to tell others about this authority Jesus now has,
which fits the whole Gospel narrative pretty well.  I mean, the
Gospels are presented as being by people who were with Jesus telling
others why his life mattered and how it was infused with the presence
of God.  So establishing that the disciples were the ones who knew
how important Jesus was ends up establishing both his authority and
their authority to tell the story.

Sigh.  I know.  You give me
beautiful, metaphorical, literally shiny texts and I can take most of
the fun out of it in no time flat.  

So, let’s see if I can put some
of the fun back in!  We could wonder why people found the best way to
communicate the presence of God was in shininess.  It is sort of a
delightful question.  I think it may happen because there is a little
bit of truth in it.  Every once in a while, it seems to me that
scales are lifted from my eyes and I can see a glimpse of the world
and its people as God sees them, and let me tell you, they really do
shine with divine love.  Perhaps the ubiquitous halos in Christian
art are actually a reflection of how holy and sacred everyone and
everything  is to God.  Perhaps the whole world, the whole universe,
are supersaturated with love that pours out of their atoms, but most
of the time we don’t see it, but in moments of Divine grace, we can?

That may actually bring us full
circle, right back to “this moment isn’t shiny, but it might still
shimmer.”  While I believe that God is with us, love is with us,
grace and mercy are with us, compassion is with us ALL THE TIME, I
also know from personal experience that we are not always able to
feel it.  Stress can make it harder to connect with God.  Constant
demands make it harder.  Emotional turmoil makes it harder.
Lonesomeness makes it harder (hence the yearning to be able to safely
gather together for worship.)  Trauma makes it harder.  Fear makes it
harder.  Honestly, sometimes the weather makes it harder.

God is with us all the time,
but when things are particularly hard, we aren’t necessarily well
tuned into God’s presence.  I do encourage the practice of
intentional silence to make space to notice God’s presence – even a
minute can help – but that isn’t a fix-all either.  

This week my encouragement is to
see if you can notice some moments that shimmer.  Maybe only one a
day.  Maybe it only shimmers 1% more than the rest of the day.  But,
in times that feels so profoundly unshiny, I think it helps to notice
whatever we can of God breaking through.  Because, God IS with us,
and God is helping, and when we notice, we make it easier to notice
the next time.  And, I think the moments that shimmer and shine are
ones we’re supposed to listen to.  Like Moses, or Jesus, they shine
to help us pay attention, to say “God is here,” to remind us of
the holiness and sacredness of even the mundane parts of life.  Those
moments are part of how we get through these days.  

OR, to say this another way
entirely, a poem by Mary Oliver

Don’t Hesitate

BY Mary Oliver

If you suddenly and unexpectedly
feel joy,
don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty
of
lives and whole towns destroyed or about
to be. We are not wise,
and not very often
kind. And much can never be redeemed.
Still,
life has some possibility left. Perhaps this
is its way of
fighting back, that sometimes
something happens better than all
the riches
or power in the world. It could be anything,
but
very likely you notice it in the instant
when love begins. Anyway,
that’s often the case.
Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be
afraid
of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.

In the midst of hard things and
hard times, counter the hard by paying attention to where God is
still shining through, however bright, for however long.  That’s how
we build the kindom, even now.  We pay attention, and we appreciate,
we don’t hesitate.  Thanks be to God.  Amen

February 27, 2022

Rev. Sara E. Baron
First United Methodist Church of Schenectady
603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305
Pronouns: she/her/hers
http://fumcschenectady.org/
https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady