Prophecy is difficult work. The events of this week make it clear that speaking truth to the powerful, even if it is to beg for mercy for those who are powerless can be hard.


Jesus, in today’s Gospel lesson, also engages in the difficult work of prophecy.


We are told that at his baptism, the Holy Spirit descended upon him in the form of a dove. He then retreated into the wilderness full of that same spirit to endure temptation. And he returns to his hometown in Nazareth with the spirit of the Lord upon him.


Jesus’ return to Nazareth appears in Matthew, Mark, and, in today’s reading, the Gospel of Luke.


But only here, in Luke, does the story appear in the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. Why, do you suppose that is?


The Gospel of Luke and its second volume, the Book of Acts, are presumed to have been written by the same person; and, they share many common themes. One of these themes is that human beings do amazing things when the spirit of the Lord is upon them. Ordinary people understand while the wise are confounded. Men who used to fish for a living speak in languages they could not have otherwise known. People are healed, prisoners are set free, god’s realm proclaimed even in the face of terrible power.


In Nazareth, the Spirit directs Jesus to Isaiah, as it often did in Jesus’ public ministry.


His reference to the prophet’s words are not an exact quotation. Instead, he combines them into a kind of an overture to the great symphony that will be his public ministry.


Before he goes on to preach, or teach, or perform any other miracle, the first words he utters are “the spirit of the Lord are upon me.”


It is tempting, I think, to view this is a Jesus story.


It is easy to read Isaiah as only identifying the messiah,


That it is only Jesus that God has anointed to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim release to captives and the recovery of sight to the blind.


And to be sure, Jesus’ role in God’s plan is … pretty special.


And I believe Jesus’ citation to Isaiah is not just a Jesus story, it is an “us” story – a you story and a me story – too.


As a community, we share the baptism of water and spirit with Jesus.


Jesus’ work of prophecy at Nazareth is also our work of prophecy today. By virtue of our baptism, we are marked as Christ’s own and the holy spirit finds a dwelling place in us.


Luke, in the second chapter of Acts, confirms this by quoting the words of the prophet Joel in Peter’s mouth:


“It shall come to pass in the last days, saith god, I will pour out of my spirit upon all flesh: and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, and your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams


The spirit, though, rarely calls us to the easy, to the convenient, or to the comfortable.


Prophecy is difficult work.


Isaiah, himself, when called to prophesy, said that he was not worthy because he was a sinner. Jeremiah hedged by saying he was too young and moses claimed a stutter kept him from the lord’s work. Jonah ran away – he actually tried to hide from God – and prefigured Jesus with his three days in the belly of a leviathan.


Interestingly enough, only our beloved Mary acceded to god’s work when the angel appeared,


And even she had some basic questions.


Prophecy is difficult work. The folks from Nazareth at first liked what Jesus had to say.


But it didn’t take long for them to turn on him when he started saying things they did not agree with.


If you keep reading, Jesus declared that the good news, the release, and the restoration were for all people, not just a select few. The people who just a few lines ago thought Jesus was so great moved quickly to run him off a cliff when he called their privilege into question.


Prophecy is difficult work indeed.


What would it look like if we spoke when the spirit of the lord is upon us? When Jesus did it, his thought was for the poor, the prisoner, the blind. If this story is any guide, a message of radical love and inclusion, will still offend those who would prefer to remain comfortable in the blindness of this world.


Make no mistake: God will establish justice and mercy with us or without us. Mordecai said to Queen Esther that even if she stayed quiet in the face of persecution, relief and deliverance for her people would arise from another place.


But, he said, you and your place were made just for such a time as this


My brothers and sisters, we too are made for just such a time as this. Are you ready to prophesy? Are you ready to dream dreams and see visions? Are you willing that the spirit of the Lord be upon us. 


Remember, Jesus said after he read from Isaiah that “today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”


Today. He did not pine for yesterday and he did not fantasize about the days to come. Today the scripture is fulfilled.


Because, while prophecy is difficult work, it is what we are called to.


Today, we must proclaim God’s realm, sing the good news, and offer a place for the outsider.


Today is the day.


Because, as we read in Nehemiah today, this day is holy to our Lord; be not grieved, for the joy of the Lord is our strength.

February 15, 2026
The Feast of the Transfiguration is August 6th of each year. The Transfiguration is also celebrated each year on the Last Sunday After the Epiphany as the culmination of a series of events in which Jesus is manifested as the Anointed One, the Messiah, the Son of God. And that is fitting, for it is indeed an epiphany, a manifestation or showing forth of God in Christ. It is, perhaps, the most vivid such manifestation in the Gospels, at least prior to the Resurrection. Indeed, it seems to be a prefiguration, or a foretaste, of the resurrection appearances, and even a foretaste of the more direct vision of God that we hope to enjoy for all eternity when, as St. Paul tells us, we shall see him not as through a glass, darkly, but face to face. It must have been quite an experience for Peter, James, and John; one that they would never forget. In fact, Peter refers to it in the passage we read in today's Epistle. Very likely it's a story Peter often told to the early Christians. It was really something to see Jesus talking with those long-dead heroes of the faith, Moses and Elijah. Did you ever stop to wonder how they knew it was Moses and Elijah? How could they have known, except that God must have inspired them with this knowledge. But then, seeing Moses and Elijah wouldn't have been half as awesome as seeing the transfigured Jesus Christ – someone they knew well, with whom they had traveled and shared meals and conversed day after day. No wonder we are told that Peter didn't know what he was saying! And then a cloud came and overshadowed them, and they heard the voice of God: “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” Well! There couldn't have been a clearer manifestation, a clearer statement from God of just who Jesus was. “This is my Son, the Beloved.” Just in case they hadn't understood this before, God makes it perfectly clear. Let's focus now on what God said next: “Listen to him!” Our NRSV translation has an exclamation point after that sentence – as well it should. These three words could form the basis for numerous sermons and countless meditations. Listen to him. We can't go wrong if we just listen to Jesus. We would do well to make these words our focus: “Listen to him!” How do we do that? Does Jesus still speak to us? When and where does Jesus speak to us? There are probably a lot of answers to that question, but here are just a few. Jesus speaks to us in the words of Holy Scripture, and especially in the words of the four Gospels, which tell us about his life and teachings. Spending a little time each day with our Bibles – reading, praying, and thinking about what Jesus is saying to us in these words – will certainly contribute a great deal toward our ability to “listen to him,” to hear his voice. We are fortunate to belong to a Christian tradition that encourages us to search the Scriptures for meaning and that embraces the possibility that there may be many different meanings for a passage from the Bible. We should take advantage of that freedom and open ourselves to the possibility of transfiguration. Jesus also speaks to us through other people. Our Christian friends have much to say that can inspire us. That’s why we study in groups and worship in groups and often carry out our ministries in groups. Jesus also calls to us through people who are in need. He said, “Whatever you do for the least of these my brothers and sisters, you do unto me.” He also says whatever we don’t do for them, we don’t do for him. We can help in many ways but God sends people into our lives each day. The child in the detention center, the woman who was abused as a child, the veteran struggling with PTSD, those who rely on 4Saints & Friends Food Pantry, families whose hearts are made glad by Laundry Love, those suffering from leprosy who are cared for and fed because of Hopewallah. The “least of these” might be one who says, “I was down in the dumps and you smiled at me?” I had the privilege of serving as Interim Rector at St. John’s Church in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. St. John’s Church owns about an acre of land in Grand Teton National Park and on it sits The Chapel of the Transfiguration. Gay was commissioned to write an icon to be displayed on the wall of the chapel. She had several patterns she was considering. I took the examples with me to the weekday Eucharist on day and asked Lou, one of our regular attendees at that service, which one she liked best. She looked at them and pointed to one with some enthusiasm. “That one!” she said. “What is it about that one?” I asked. She said, “In that one, Jesus and the disciples are not only ascending the mountain, they are also coming down.” I told Gay and that is the pattern she used. You see, Lou’s husband was a mountain climber. He ascended Mt. Everist with Jim Whitaker. But he didn’t come down. He lost his life there. For Lou, it was very personal and very important to remember that Jesus, Peter, James, and John came down, came back, continued on their journey. Jesus spoke to Gay and me through Lou! And here's one more way that we might hear Jesus speaking to us: in the silence. Do you remember the story of Elijah waiting for God in the cave? “Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake was a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.” What kind of a sound does sheer silence make? I think we all remember an earlier translation that said: “a still small voice.” We know what that sounds like, don't we? And perhaps it is the same thing, because it is all too easy to drown out that still small voice with wind and earthquake and fire and the like. Maybe we need to tune out and turn off before we can begin to listen. Turn off the TV for a while, sign off on the Internet, and, most of all, tune out the internal noise that is the hardest of all to still. To put it bluntly, we need to shut up once in a while, even in our prayers. The kind of prayer where we talk to God and tell him about our life and how it is going and the things we are worried about and so forth, is good, but there comes a time when we need to stop even doing that, and just listen. Is it possible to sit still and listen for five minutes? Then do that. Then maybe you can go for10 or 15 or even 20 minutes. If the internal noise starts up again, bring yourself back to the silence with some small word like “Listen” or just “Jesus.” What sound will you hear in the silence? When our ears are opened to listen for the divine voice, what we hear may be an epiphany we ne.  The Holy Spirit is actively at work in the world, our SaviorJesus Christ is with us every moment, until the end of the ages, just as he promised he would be. We must simply take the time to listen, and to look for the one who is the light of the world, the one whose light we shall one day see face to face. As St. Peter tells us in today's reading: “You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.” Amen 1
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We all look for something to steer for us. My mom often said, “Be careful what you wish for”. She never explained what it meant…she didn’t have to. Often, when we wish for something, there are unintended consequences. I’m an early-adapter with all things technology. When self-driving cars became a thing, it was at the top of my wish list. And then one night, my car downloaded a software update that allowed me to try fully self-driving mode for thirty days. Free. They were speaking my language. Much of the time, that software worked beautifully. But one night I was driving home from the church…through the Fort Worth mix-master. At the best of times, the mix-master is a test of faith. That night, I realized…a little too late…that my car didn’t “see” vehicles merging from my right at highway speeds. A car darted in front of me at 55mph. My car panicked. It slammed on the brakes, forcing everyone behind me to do the same. Tires were squealing and I may have said a few choice words. Then a calm robotic voice came through my speaker: “What just happened?” Without thinking, I answered, “We’re all going to need clean clothes!”—a reminder that trusting the wrong kind of power can create more chaos than good. Three thousand years ago, the Israelites faced a similar challenge. They had judges—and they had Yahweh—but they were not satisfied. The nations around them had kings and queens…and Israel longed for a visible symbol of power: a government that looked strong and invincible to their neighbors. “Give us a king,” they said, “like other nations.” [1] Samuel warned them: “…in that day you will cry out because of your king, whom you have chosen for yourselves; but the Lord will not answer you in that day” [2] Be careful what you wish for. God’s warning is clear: the king you want will take more from you than he gives. And history shows it. Saul and David and their successors ruled. But, human power systems fail…they always have…we are no strangers to that in our own time. After Solomon, the kingdom split into the northern kingdom of Israel and the southern kingdom of Judah. Leaders often sought their own gain instead of tending to the people, especially the most vulnerable. By Jeremiah’s time, Judah itself teetered on collapse. Yet God speaks through the prophet, offering hope, promise, and vision of restoration. “I will gather the remnant of my flock…I will raise up shepherds over them who will shepherd them, and they shall not fear any longer. The days are surely coming, says the Lord, when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch, and he shall reign wisely and shall execute justice and righteousness in the land.” [3] Jeremiah is speaking God’s words here—a promise of a king unlike any human ruler. Not a king who exploits or coerces, but a shepherd who tends the scattered, who watches over the vulnerable, and who leads with justice and care. Luke shows us that shepherd in the most unexpected place: on a cross. Even there, Christ gathers the lost and welcomes the outsider—the very people no one expects to matter. Colossians describes the cosmic dimension of this shepherd—the One who reigns over all creation and reconciles all things through love. This shepherd’s kingdom is not defined by force—but by mercy; not by fear—but by reconciliation; not by scarcity—but by eternal gift. And here is the Advent connection: the King we await is already among us—reigning in ways that the world does not expect—and has never expected. Christ’s reign is not deferred to the end times. It is now. For those who long for a dramatic return of Jesus…scrutinizing hidden messages and timetables…be careful what you wish for. Christ’s reign is not waiting on a cosmic clock. It is already present, entrusted to us --the mystical Body of Christ-- in this world, in this moment. And that realization is sobering. Because if Christ reigns through mercy, reconciliation, and self-giving love, then we—his Body—are called to reign in that way too. In our families, we are called to speak truth in love and care for one another. In our workplaces and communities, we are called to act justly, to lift up the vulnerable, to speak for those without voice, and to forgive the one who has wronged us. In the simple moments of everyday life—offering a kind word, feeding the hungry, welcoming the outsider—we participate in the Shepherd’s reign. Advent invites us to practice that reign, to trust that heart, to embody God’s kingdom in the everyday moments of our lives. We all look for something to steer for us. Christ the King reminds us: the safest driver is not me…or a throne…or even a Tesla. The only true driver is God. In Advent, we learn to let go, trust God, and follow, even when the road ahead is uncertain. Thanks be to God. [1] 1 Samuel 8:5 [2] 1 Samuel 8:10-18 [3] Jeremiah 23:3-5
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