Charge of the Light Brigade

“There is always Light, if only we are brave enough to see it. There is always Light, if only we are brave enough to be it.” Amanda Gorman, Poet, “The Hill We Climb”

For quite some time now, we have had problems at home with flickering lights. It’s the kind of flickering you get when there’s a loose connection. When we moved in seven years ago, there was only one outlet that would hold a plug, so I set about replacing every outlet with good quality receptacles. I’ve replaced a ton of outlets and light switches over the years, so it is a task with which I am experienced and “at home” (so to speak). 

The problem we were facing with our flickering light fixtures, however, was different. The lamps were plugged in securely; connections on our built-in lighting fixtures were likewise well-secured. The issue presented itself in several rooms, so it wasn’t a lone flakey lightbulb having conniptions. So we brought in a professional electrical contractor to diagnose the problem and help us plot a solution.

The problem turned out to be a faulty breaker panel. It was failing, and the inconsistent supply of electricity to the house was causing the flickering and, if left alone, could result in something worse than flickering lights, so we bit the bullet and contracted for an upgrade to our electrical service. We didn’t just upgrade the panel; we added fresh lighting for the two guest bedrooms, as well as a light and outlet to the house’s crawl space. 

While the light and outlet in the crawl certainly aren’t needed, it will be helpful having light in the event someone ever has to visit the creep space in order to turn off the home’s water supply or replace the hot water tank. Illuminating the darkness: how biblical!

We are in the season of Lent (for those that follow church seasons – not all do, and that’s OK; there’s more than one way to “be” Church). There was a time when the focus of Lent was to wear sack-cloth and ashes and bewail our manifold sins and wickedness. There’s still a little bit of introspection that goes on these days, but I think there has been a major shift from a sin-focus to a healthier form of spirituality – one that keys in on identifying ways we can be better human beings.

Shifting one’s focus is important. I am not a craftsman, so when I do projects around the house, I’ll confess I see all the blemishes and mistakes I’ve made. When folks try to admire my handiwork, more often than not I’ll point out what I did poorly, even though most people admire that, first off, I tackled a project, and secondly, that they wouldn’t have noticed the errors of my ways if I hadn’t pointed them out. It’s one thing to be humble; it’s quite another to abuse the self.

Anyway, since we have been created in the image of God, and since we believe the glory of God is God’s mercy, it seems counterproductive to look for fault in the work of our hands, minds, or spirits. Lent is a season, not for withdrawing from God’s presence because of our weaknesses or misdoings, but to draw closer to God, to bask in the light of God’s glory, and to see what, if anything, we might do better on God’s behalf.

Our breaker panel was not evil for going bad. It didn’t decide, one day, to become ineffective or dangerous. In fact, it was a blessing that we saw the signs it was failing. It gave us an opportunity to make changes before it failed catastrophically. It gave us an opportunity to upgrade and improve the lighting in spaces that needed improving, and over time it may well save us energy costs and reduce our carbon footprint.

Many people wait until they are in too much pain not to change. Life is more joyous when one identifies what’s working or not working for them, and making the change ahead of the catastrophe. We won’t always succeed, of course. The famous Light Brigade went into the wrong valley. Oops. But if we choose our valley wisely, and with eyes wide open, perhaps we can stop the flickering in our lives, and add warmth to our light here in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

The Second Sunday in Lent

 

O God, whose glory it is always to have mercy: Be gracious to all who have gone astray from your ways, and bring them again with penitent hearts and steadfast faith to embrace and hold fast the unchangeable truth of your Word, Jesus Christ your Son; who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. [BCP 218]

Life can be quite amusing at times. For years, I have identified one of God’s greatest attributes with this line: The glory of God is his mercy. That’s been my default marker for proclaiming the gospel for as long as I can remember. So many people have come to me over the years asking if they will be saved, or if they will have a chance of going to heaven, and I have assured and reassured each one, every time: The glory of God is God’s mercy. Of course you’re saved; of course you’re going to heaven; of course God will welcome you with open arms and a loving embrace.

I always thought I was quoting scripture, even though I could never find that passage in the Psalms, Proverbs, Isaiah, or any of the other prophets. I’ve tried to find the passage using concordances and Bible reference materials. I’ve even tried online Bible references and a variety of search engines. I could never find it and just chalked it up to my lousy research skills. Some things just lie beyond my grasp.

Then, as I began working my way through this series of meditations based upon the Sunday Collects, I found the source of what I’d been saying all along. It’s right here in the Collect for the Second Sunday in Lent (and not a direct quote from the Bible): “O God, whose glory it is always to have mercy …”

People often ask what Episcopalians believe, and while we aren’t a “confessional” church, as such, one can find our theology as we define and express it throughout the Book of Common Prayer (the BCP). Our beliefs are contained within our prayers. They are rich, deep, and sometimes contradictory. But so is life. God, who told the first couple, “The day you eat of it (the “forbidden” fruit), you shall die,” changed their divine mind. 

Our relationship with God is complex. It’s also quite simple. A number of well-known and respected theologians have admitted that their faith can be best summed up in the words of that children’s hymn, “Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to God belong, we are weak, but God is strong. Yes! Jesus loves me!!!”

I worry the church has historically done such a good job of identifying every sin imaginable, that many have simply given up trying to come to any understanding of what it means to be a Christian. Are you lazy? Sloth!!! That’s a cardinal sin. Do your eyes go looking where they shouldn’t? Lust!!! That’s a cardinal sin. Do you get mad? Wroth (Anger)!!! That’s a cardinal sin. Do you sometimes feel superior to others (politically, socially, economically – come on, now; let’s be truthful)? Pride!!! That’s a cardinal sin. Shall I go on? We still have Envy, Gluttony, and Greed to top off the list of cardinal sins. Don’t let me get started on the venial sins – oy vey!

I heard a lot about sin, growing up, and while I can rattle off the cardinal sins from memory (I use a mnemonic tool: SLAPEGG (Sloth, Lust, Anger, Pride, Envy, Gluttony, Greed), but I have no idea what the cardinal virtues are. I presume there are some, but I haven’t got a list. I presume love and humility are in there somewhere, and maybe patience, but I haven’t got time to go looking for them right now.

So we know how bad people are. We can point out their faults with gusto. What I don’t know is why we focus more on sin and less on grace. The glory of God is God’s mercy. That line has struck me and stayed with me since forever. It’s one of those things I need to hear over and over to believe it. I believe it is true; to the core of my soul I believe it. It’s the curmudgeon who dances the Tarantella between my ears, who points out all those things that prick my conscience that I need to learn to put into Time Out.

“You’re not good enough,” he says. OK. I can live with that. Why? Because the glory of God is God’s mercy.

The season of Lent is a struggle for many people because they (or we) are being told we are sinners, as if we don’t already know that. “You are dust, and to dust you shall return” is Lent’s battle cry. OK, sure. I can live with that. Why? Because the glory of God is God’s mercy!

That is why our prayer continues: “Be gracious to all who have gone astray from your ways …” God knows what we’re like. It’s not like God flings open a door and goes, “Whoops! Sorry, I didn’t know you were in there.” 

God knows, for the most part, that we are doing the best we can. Love God? OK, I do and will do the best I can. Sometimes I’ll have some doubts; other times I’ll have lots of doubts. But for the most part, I love God as best I can. I worship. I pray. I say grace at meals. I bring my offerings to church. I sing the hymns (including those I don’t really like). I devote as much time to loving God as best I can. Why? Because the glory of God is God’s mercy.

Love one’s neighbor? OK, I do the best I can. I don’t go out of my way to irritate or antagonize people around me, but I suppose I could do more to love them. It’s hard, though. Lord, you KNOW some of my neighbors. Yet, not my will but (sigh) your will be done. Why? Because the glory of God is God’s mercy.

Love myself? OK, that’s a bit tougher. Sometimes my ego gets in the way. Sometimes it's my history. Other times it’s my future (or lack) that draws my attention from full-on loving myself. I mean, I know me. How can I love me, knowing all that? I know what goes on in my mind. Still, if you, Great God of all that is, seen and unseen, can have mercy on me, and love me, and want me to sit at table with you in the great banquet that follows my romping through the valley of the shadow of death, who am I to question your command? So I try. Why? Because the glory of God is God’s mercy.

That’s why we continue our prayer: “bring them (us) again with penitent hearts and steadfast faith to embrace and hold fast the unchangeable truth of your Word …” We don’t ask God to let us wallow in our guilt. We conduct a fearless and moral inventory of our lives (which inventories both the good and the bad, the sick and the sad) and we turn our will and our lives (with everything in them) over to the care of God, and trust that God knows what to do with those self-same lives. God will root through our attics, crawl spaces, dungeons and play rooms, toss out all the trash, and hold fast (embrace, hug) what’s left: You. Me. God’s very own treasure!

I guess that’s why I love Lent. These prayers remind us that the glory of God is God’s mercy. We don’t stand before God quivering in our boots, fearing the fiery torments of hell. No, we stand before God, fresh from our baths, dressed as knights in white satin, children of God’s kingdom and reign, jewels in God’s very own crown.

Merciful heavens: the glory of God IS God’s mercy!

Amen

First Sunday in Lent

 

Almighty God, whose blessed Son was led by the Spirit to be tempted by Satan: Come quickly to help us who are assaulted by many temptations; and, as you know the weaknesses of each of us, let each one find you mighty to save; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. [BCP 218]

Jesus was “led by the Spirit to be tempted by Satan.” Isn’t that strange? Don’t we pray, asking God to “lead us not into temptation”? So here we find Jesus being “led” by God’s Spirit “to be tempted.”

I suppose in many ways the Spirit was leading Jesus into the wilderness in his day just as that same Spirit led Israel from bondage in Egypt, through the Sea, and into the wilderness, not so much to “be” tempted, but where they were tempted. Tempted to do what, though? I suppose individuals were tempted to misbehave the way people are in every community, in every generation, in every way. I have no doubt there were the barroom brawls, accusations of theft, lusting after whatever lustables they could see. 

They saw the glory of God demonstrated in a bunch of disasters that befell the Egyptians (plagues of frog, flies, locusts, bloody waters, and the deaths of first-borns); they saw the sea opened up so they could cross over on dry land from one side to another; they saw the mighty Egyptian army (with all their horses and chariots) destroyed when the sea returned to normal (slamming the door on the pursuers); they saw the pillar of fire by night and pillar of smoke by day leading them on and on. But when asked to believe, when asked to trust, when asked to move forward, when asked to enter the land of promise, the people dug in their heels and said, “Heck no, we won’t go!”

That had to be discouraging for God. They cried for food, God gave them Manna, and they complained. They begged for meat, God sent quail, and they complained. They got thirsty, God gave them water from a rock, and they complained. We can’t really blame them, of course. If there is one thing people are good at, it’s complaining. Endless complaining.

Moses goes into the mountain, talks with God, brings back God’s great gift: Torah (the Law), and how do the people respond? “Eh, we missed you; figured you’d died, so Aaron made a wonderful golden calf for us to worship. He gave us Gold; you brought us a memo. Thanks, but no thanks!”

We could go on and on, but it is obvious that even if the people weren’t “tempted” as such, the wilderness was a place of pain and suffering. We can’t blame them. These weren’t leaders; these were slaves. These weren’t the elite; these were the bottom of the barrel. These weren’t the high and mighty, but low and stinky. For centuries, they and their ancestors took their orders and knew their place in the world. The wilderness was all new for them. The only temptation they faced was to go back – to go back to the lives they knew so well. At least in Egypt they knew they had food. Sure, it was scraps and leftovers, but still, it was food.

Jesus was baptized in the river. As he got back onto his feet, he saw the Spirit descend, like a dove, and heard a voice cry out, “You are my beloved son; in you I am well pleased.”

With his baptism, Jesus was freed from slavery. What? Jesus wasn’t a slave. He was the son of a carpenter or a village handyman. Yet, might he not have been a slave anyway? There are many kinds of slavery. One can be a slave to their past. I know people who can’t get past hurts that took place decades ago. They embrace those painful memories like golden calves. They find their life’s meaning in those memories, so they hang onto them, and worship them, for those things give them their value.

One can be a slave to what others think. They worry they will be thought less of if they tell people what they think. They find their value defined by what others think, as if a person who has a moment’s insight into your life could possibly know you better than yourself. But they haven’t the courage to leave those opinions behind. They are trapped in a desert, surrounded by the fiery serpents that corrupt them.

We don’t know to what Jesus may have been a slave. Perhaps he was tempted to ignore God’s call and continue fixing tables, chairs, and cribs. Perhaps he was tempted to stay home and take care of his family once his father had died – cultural expectations; honor your father and mother; all that guff. 

Whatever the temptation, Jesus broke free. He went through the waters of baptism on his way to a new life. A pillar of fire drew him down to the Jordan, to John, and from there, into the wilderness. He was led, by some accounts. He was driven into the wilderness, by other accounts. Interesting. Sometimes I go where I’m led. Other times I need to be driven. Don’t believe me? Ask my wife!

Jesus was led by the Spirit to be tempted by Satan. Satan. The Adversary. Not the red suit, pitchfork, and horn-sprouting-head devil of our collective imaginations. No, Satan is simply the Prosecuting Attorney of the State of Bliss whose job is to bring cases to court for trial. I often think the temptation stories in Matthew, Luke, and (initially) Mark aren’t temptations for Jesus to do magic with rocks, rule the world, or spend time with a new and improved deity. I think the temptation is to accept a plea deal. Despite being innocent, “Just plead guilty and life will go better for you and everyone.”

That’s a temptation we all face. To take a short-cut. To cut corners, to cheat just a little. Those temptations didn’t stop after Jesus’ forty days in the wilderness. Do our temptations end after our forty days of Lent? Ha! I wish!

“Lord, come quickly,” we pray. You know our weaknesses. You know our soft spots, our sore spots, our excuses, and our ability to rationalize all our misdoings and lay the blame on others. “If only they … if only this … if only that …”

“Let each one find YOU mighty to save …” That’s the point, of course. It is God who calls. It is God who rescues. It is God who restores people and relationships. It is God who heals our souls, salves our wounds, and saves us (leading us out of our own personal and/or corporate Egypts). 

This First Sunday IN Lent is our base camp. As the Spirit led Jesus, so the Spirit leads us now. The temptation may be to see this as another Sunday, another week, another Season of Lent. We pray the Spirit will break the shackles of such thinking and drive us (if we won’t be led) into a wilderness that will impel us to depend ever more closely on the God who calls, the God who provides, the God who ministers to each as they have need.

Amen.

Ashes for Saint Valentine!

“Is this not the fast that I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice, to undo the thongs of the yoke …” Isaiah 58

Valentine’s Day marks a day of love for many of us. It is an artificial holiday built upon the sales of sweets and greeting cards, but really, what holiday isn’t? There’s nothing wrong with love, cards, sweets, or flowers, so I won’t knock it.

It is somewhat ironic that Valentine’s Day this year coincides with Ash Wednesday which, for many Christians, marks the start of a forty day period of penitence and fasting. “Giving up chocolate” is often the go-to-token for lenten fasting or abstinence.

Not all Christians observe Lent, of course. In fact, one doesn’t even have to be a Christian to participate in Lent. Days and seasons are not copyrighted. Holidays and holy days are not licensed or trademarked. Days and seasons are simply part of life. 

To paraphrase Jesus, the sun rises and sets for both flat-earthers and astrophysicists. The rains fall on climate-change believers and deniers alike. It doesn’t matter who’s more likely to be right, or who’s more likely to be wrong. What matters is looking and listening to the world around us and asking, is there something I need to do?

Many years ago our tub began to drain quite slowly. I called in a plumber who snaked the drain and pulled out globs of hair. I looked in the mirror and knew I had not contributed to that problem – not in the least did I have any responsibility for that clog. Did I refuse to pay the plumber? No, of course not. It was a family issue, a family problem, and so I paid the plumber and thanked him for his time and expertise. 

Now, I knew in my heart of hearts that I was truly “holier than thou” in the situation, but the problem wasn’t just the hair. It was also the soap, shampoo, and conditioners that went down the drain and that mixed with the hairs. As a person who’s involved in matters of cleanliness and personal hygiene, I’d contributed to the clog, even if I hadn’t added much building material to the project. I had a part to play, so the plumber I did pay!

The world is in a heck of a mess. I’m worn out praying for an end to the fighting in Ukraine, Gaza, Somalia, the sea lanes off Yemen, etc. I’m worn out praying for an end to gun violence in America, child hunger, and the masses of second class citizens growing in this country. I’m worn out praying for congress to learn their job is not to get re-elected but solve the many problems they’ve been elected to solve. Getting re-elected is NOT the problem in need of a solution. 

I’m worn out, but I don’t stop praying. Praying isn’t about asking God to magically fix things, but asking how God might use us to fix the injustices and evils about which we pray.

I don’t really care which holy book one reads, studies, or honors as the basis of their faith. The one I embrace says (Isaiah 58), “If you remove the yoke from among you, the pointing of the finger, the speaking of evil, if you offer your food to the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted, then your light shall rise in the darkness and your gloom be like the noonday.” Other religions and philosophies say much the same thing: Take care of one another.

Valentine’s day promotes love. Sure, we think primarily of romantic love on that day of chocolates and flowers. But since it coincides with Ash Wednesday, might we consider laying aside our grievances and seeking better ways to love one another? 

If you’re worn out by violence, death, animosity, vengeance, and all the acidic rhetoric floating about the airwaves and such, maybe one can choose to abstain from those things (more than from chocolates). Each of us can examine our lives and find where we fall short (and clean out attitudes that clog our relationships). 

Perhaps Saint Valentine’s Day is as good a day as any to focus our lives on loving Creation, our Neighbors, and Ourselves. If your love lasts more than forty days, so much the better! May you enjoy both a sweet Valentine’s Day and a more loving Lent here in this, our valley.

Keith Axberg writes on matters concerning life and faith. Author of: Who the Blazes is Jesus? Good News for a Vulgar World (available through Amazon in Print and e-book)

The Last Sunday after the Epiphany

 

O God,  who before the passion of your only-begotten Son revealed his glory upon the holy mountain: Grant to us that we, beholding by faith the light of his countenance, may be strengthened to bear our cross, and be changed into his likeness from glory to glory; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. [BCP 217]

Fan Mountain, outside Ennis Montana, © Keith Axberg

When I was a young lad, our family would often take a few weeks off in the summer to get away from our little house in Ballard (Seattle’s northside Scandinavian neighborhood). Sometimes we would spend our time at the maternal grandparents’ cabin within walking distance of Lake Cavanaugh (nestled in the foothills of the North Cascades just north and east of Everett). Other times we would spend those weeks with our paternal aunt, uncle, and cousin who actually owned a cabin right on the same lake. 

One hot summer day our cousin Joe asked my brother and me if we wanted to go up and see the fire lookout on Fraley Mountain. We’d never been there, but it sure sounded like fun, so off we went. We were kids in our early to mid teens (probably about 13-15); we were in good shape for hiking, and the trail we’d be walking was actually an old access road that was in pretty good shape. We wouldn’t be blazing trails; we’d just be walking up the mountain.

None of us carried watches, and we were at the age where time meant little. I don’t recall what time we left, and I have no idea how long we trekked, but we walked, and walked, and walked some more. Up the mountain we walked. There wasn’t much of a breeze. We’d carried no water or food. No knives, matches, or flashlights. We had our cut-offs, tee shirts, and tennis shoes of the Bonanza 88 quality and variety. To top it all off, we had also neglected to mention to anyone what we had planned for the day. We simply left with a desire to go see the fire lookout on Fraley Mountain.

Well, lest you get all nervous-like and start biting your nails, I’ll tell you here that we didn’t make it to the mountain top. We got to a point where it was obvious we were either on the wrong access road, or the site was a lot further away than we had realized when we left the little cabin down by the lake. While I would like to credit this realization to superior intelligence or common sense, the fact is that it was more likely stomachs that had been without food, water, or even chewing gum that led us to realize we may have bitten off more than we could chew. We were out of our depth and woefully unprepared. We exercised the better part of valor and turned around.

I’m sorry we didn’t get to the mountain top, for I would have liked to have checked out the view from way up there atop Fraley Mountain. Alas, it was not to be. We couldn’t even defend our actions; our folks were not happy to have had us disappear like that without a word, note, or anything. We had failed in our quest, and didn’t have the luxury of being carried home upon our shields. Instead, we were grounded. We weren’t heroes, we were goats. We set out as adventurers, but came back as losers.

“O God,  who before the passion of your only-begotten Son revealed his glory upon the holy mountain …” 

Jesus never stopped, of course. Jesus and his companions made it to the mountain top. The story of the Transfiguration reminds me of another mountain top at another time in another place with another godly soul. Moses visited high places on several different occasions. He climbed a mountain and found the bush that burned without being consumed. He climbed a mountain to converse with God and bring Torah to God’s people in the valley below. Moses was taken up to a mountain where he could see the land of promise. He was allowed to see it, but the angel of the Lord was clear. “I’ll let you see it, but you will not enter it.”

It seems the people of God never quite get to where they’re going in life. Like Moses and the children of Israel, we wander around the desert, setting up camp, doing the best we can, but never quite finishing the trip. Spies went into the promised land, and the majority report was simple: “We can’t do it. They’re too big; we’re too small. They’re too many; we’re too few. They’re too powerful; we’re too weak. We’ll be beaten. We’ll be eaten. Let’s return to being slaves, because at least we got to eat the feast and not be the feast.”

There was a minority report, though. “We can do it. With YHWH on our side, it can be ours, and from what we’ve seen, it will be worth it.”

Which way did they choose? Did they move forward in faith, or did they stay put, living in fear? You know the answer. Forty years of standing still, going nowhere, perfecting their capacity to cry, moan, and bewail their manifold sins and predicaments. 

Our focus today, though, isn’t what they did in their desert journey. It’s about the journey Jesus took. A different mountain. A different ending. On that mountain, Jesus prayed. Jesus was preparing to make his journey into a different desert, a different wilderness and, as we’ll find out in a few short weeks, a different hill where he will be lifted up, and we won’t see his glory, nor will we hear the voice of God. We’ll be met with deep darkness, sadness, and silence.

We discover, if we’re paying attention, that the two hills are really two views of the same hill. In reality, the transfiguration story is a preview of Jesus’ resurrection, but we need to see it through eyes of faith, because we must see his resurrection through his crucifixion.

When my wife was pregnant with our daughter, there was new technology that we didn’t have when she was pregnant with our son: ultrasounds. The device allowed us to see our child in-utero as she was developing. It was like an X-ray but safer, and allowed us to see our child in real time and in motion. We couldn’t see our daughter directly, but we could get a glimpse of coming attractions, one might say.

The Transfiguration is like that. The glory of God shone for just a few moments there upon the mountain – sort of an Ultra-view, if you will. The thing we often miss, though, is the idea that this is also the view God has of us. We know Jesus is special. We’ve seen it in his life and ministry. Feeding thousands? Wow! Walking on water? Wow, wow, wow! Cleansing lepers, making the lame to walk, the blind to see, the deaf to hear? Wow, wow, wow, a thousand times wow!

It is not enough to see the glory of God in Christ on the holy mountain, though. We are praying, asking God to change us. Jesus didn’t shine 24/7. The light lived within him; it was visible in how he lived. That light dwells in us, too. That’s the scary part of our faith is the light dwells in us. We may not be able to walk on water, but we can reach out to those who are drowning. We may not be able to feed thousands, but certainly we can feed a few. We may not be able to open the eyes of the blind or unstop the ears of the deaf, but we can surely be their eyes and ears when called upon.

This collect warns us away from complacency, or from delegating everything to Jesus because for us to care or to carry that burden (our cross) is too hard or difficult. We ask God to use us. We discover, to our amazement, that the light may well shine. We are called to see the world from the mountain top, even if we’re not sure we’d ever get there. We’re to see it through Jesus’ eyes. We just need to keep moving, and believe. What a view!

The Rev. Keith Axberg, 2024