Once upon a time there was an agricultural community called The Land of the Gerasenes. This country was on the eastern side of the Sea of Galilee and was Gentile territory so the people there had no problem with raising pigs and eating pork. There was a Gerasene man who was different from other people. As people reacted to him his differences grew worse and worse until, finally, he was ostracized from the community. They bound his hands and feet so he had limited movement. He could not live among the others so he lived in the cemetery. To the people of the community, this man, whose name was Legion, represented everything that could go wrong in everybody's life, all rolled into one person. He was their worst nightmare. He was the manifestation of all their secret shame.


He was the man everybody loved to hate. Now, the man's existence served a very important function in that community. For example, whenever somebody felt like they were going crazy, they could always compare themselves to Legion and say, “It could be worse. I could be like old Legion out there.”


Having Legion as a bad example was useful in rearing their children. They would say, “If you don't stop that, you could grow up to be like Legion.” Anytime anything went wrong, they could always blame it on Legion. Legion played a vital role in maintaining a kind of equilibrium in the community. They projected their own problems onto him so they didn't have to deal with them. Marginalizing Legion made them all feel better about themselves. They improved their own self esteem by stealing it from him.


Then, one day, something happened that completely upset this delicate balance. Jesus sailed across the Sea of Galilee, a trip of only about 5-6 miles. When his boat landed on the beach near Gerasa, this wild man broke his bonds and went rushing at Jesus. Perhaps it was the lack of an expression of fear or maybe it was a look of compassion, but Jesus stopped Legion in his tracks. According to the text, the many demons living in Legion cried out through him, “Jesus, Son of God, what do you want with us?” Jesus knew that when you can name something, you gain a kind of power over it. So, he asked, “What is your name?” The man said, “Legion.” Then the demonic voice cried out for mercy. Jesus commanded the demons to leave the man. When they did, they invaded a nearby herd of pigs. The pigs rushed headlong to the water and drowned.


The pig herders were so shocked by all this that they ran to tell all their neighbors, and the entire community ran out to see what had happened. When they arrived, imagine their surprise at seeing Legion, washed and dressed in clean clothes sitting with Jesus. Now, some have argued that they were upset about the economic calamity that had befallen them when their pigs drowned and that was the reason they asked Jesus to go away. But the gospel says they were seized by great fear. I suspect their fear was grounded in the fact that the exorcism of this man had completely upset the equilibrium of the community. They wouldn't have Legion to kick around anymore. Their own secret demons would now be exposed. The man wanted to go with Jesus. But Jesus did an interesting thing. He made the man a missionary to his own people. Why? I believe it was because Jesus was concerned that the healing work he had started among these gentiles be carried to completion. The healing of Legion was only the beginning. If the mighty power of God could heal the sickest of the sick, the craziest of the crazy, he could heal everybody in the community. Here was an opportunity for a new, healthy equilibrium to be established. 


An equilibrium based not on harboring the demonic influences in the community and projecting everyone's self-loathing onto a single outcast individual or getting self-esteem by stealing it from another. But an equilibrium based on the saving, positive effects of the power of God at work in human lives and in the life of a community of people. That was Jesus' way: he always went to the victims of society's ills. He cared for the least, the last, the lost, the most vulnerable, the outcast, the marginalized people. Their amazing testimonies to the power of God, which brought life out of death, joy out of sadness, health out of sickness, changed entire towns. And that is Jesus' way today. Today as then grace is never so amazing as when the recipient is totally surprised to receive it. When we are feeling self-righteous and smug in our relationship with God, we usually are in serious danger and we usually have someone we can point to who is, in effect, our community Legion. Maybe our Legion is that homeless person we saw living in squalor in the doorway of an abandoned downtown building yesterday. Maybe our Legion is residents of the county jail. Could our Legion be somebody closer to home? Somebody who may have made a mistake or violated some community standard and we won't let them forget about it. Somebody who is of another racial or ethnic group we can look down upon. Somebody of a different sexual orientation who makes us feel more secure in our own sexuality when we condemn them. Somebody who is an immigrant. Somebody who isn't washed and scrubbed.


Consider the opening acclamation for the baptismal liturgy: “There is one Body and one Spirit; There is one hope in God’s call to us; One Lord, one Faith, one Baptism; One God and Father of all.” Scholars believe these words from Paul’s Letter to the Galatians are from a very early baptismal creed. Stephen Patterson writes, “The creed was originally about the fact that race, class, and gender are typically used to divide the human race into us and them to the advantage of us. It aimed to declare that there is no us, no them. We are all children of God. It was about solidarity, not cultural obliteration.” Later in the liturgy are these questions: “Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?” “Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?” And, what is our answer? “I will, with God’s help.”


Healing is not only for the marginalized, but for us as well. We need God’s help to heal us from our hatred, our discrimination, our revulsion, our prejudice, our racism, our sexism, our xenophobia, so that we can reach out and be the healing hearts and hands of Jesus Christ as extensions of his incarnate love, participants in the ongoing redemption of creation itself. Jesus’ way with our marginalized people is to accept them and heal them in ways we can't imagine and send them back into our midst to tell us that if God could do it for them, he can do it for us. This is frightening at first because it threatens the sense of equilibrium we have constructed for ourselves. It is frightening because if Jesus Christ ever got hold of our lives we'd have to change. We'd have to come face to face with our personal demons, and actually name them: fear, greed, prejudice, lust, hatred, ego, antagonism. We can't imagine life without our pet demons.


But Jesus says such a life is not only possible, it is better. He's in our midst today, the Healer. He's reaching out to the one among us who feels there is no way on earth to ever live in a right relationship with him, with other people, or with himself or herself. He speaks to those demons, calls them by name, takes power over them and says, “Come out of her, come out of him.” And, then, he sends the one he has embraced and healed to tell the rest of us how much God has done. Does it frighten you? Do you want to send him away? Go ahead and try but let me warn you; Jesus Christ won't give up on you that easily. He continues to set a feast for us. We can try to tell him not to. We can turn away from his offer. We can run, but we can't hide. He pursues us and sends people he's healed to pursue us so that we too might live the abundant life. Is it scary to you to be loved by such a love?

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
By Paula Jefferson January 25, 2026
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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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