In February of 1983, when I graduated from college, the job market was really bad. I was leaving Penn State with an accounting degree and a pretty good academic record. Those two things earned an invitation to visit one of the big CPA firms in Philadelphia. We had a great conversation right up to the moment they extended an offer for me to become an auditor. 

 

Auditing is not my cup of tea. I loved tax law and I was fully committed to becoming a tax CPA but not by taking a two-year detour on an auditing trail. 

 

Without a job, I went back to Lancaster, PA, where I was planting my roots. The local newspaper printed classified ads--I placed an ad in the paper:

 

"Recent Penn State Grad with BS in Accounting seeks entry level CPA position."

 

There was room for more words in my advertisement; and the next words I wrote would land a job for me: Minor in Management Information Systems. Computers.

 

The firm that hired me had purchased a new machine called a PC (personal computer). They had boxes of floppy diskettes, a manual, and nifty computer -- all of it still waiting to be opened.

 

On my first day, I drove into the parking lot of the firm and smiled at all the hitching posts along their fence line. I remember thinking, “Oh, how quaint."  Lancaster is home to a large community of Amish folks. Before the first day was over, I learned that many of our clients were Amish.

 

The hitching posts were not decorations. 

 

Today’s Gospel reading is a turning point in Matthew’s Gospel. Chapter 11—where today’s lesson is found--begins with these words, “Now when Jesus had finished instructing his twelve disciples, he went on from there to teach and proclaim his message in their cities.”  

 

And then, John the Baptist, already in prison, makes an appearance in the text. He has heard about all that Jesus is doing. And so he sends his own disciples to Jesus with a question: ‘Are you the one we’ve been waiting for’?  Jesus responds, “Go and tell John what you hear and see…the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.” These are signs of Jesus’ divinity.

 

When John’s disciples leave, Jesus begins teaching the crowds. In today’s excerpt from Chapter 11, he’s a bit frustrated that people have not understood the meaning of John the Baptist’s ministry or of his own ministry. People think John has a demon, and that Jesus is some kind of party animal.

 

And, still, he will invite us into his calling…to share his yoke.


Many of the farms around Lancaster began installing computers in their offices. I became a traveling accountant teaching folks how to use farming software and consulting on their tax returns. 

 

I watched a lot of Amish farmers survey their horses and select the team of horses that would be hitched together for plowing and planting fields, for clearing rocks, and for pulling the family buggy when it was time to travel. The animals had to be matched according the kind of work they would be doing, their size, their strength, and their desire to work.

 

If the animals were unequally yoked, the team would go in circles…

 

As Chapter 11 is coming to its close, Jesus offers a prayer:

 

I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth,

because you have hidden these things

from the wise and the intelligent

and have revealed them to infants….

 

God has placed the Truth of Jesus the Christ in plain view: the Signs of his divinity are everywhere. But the so-called wise and intelligent people can make no sense of them. Surely Jesus is drinking too much and hanging out with all the wrong people. What sort of rabbi is this?

 

A few weeks ago, we talked about a quote from one of our Irreverently Faithful books: “Faith isn’t an act of intelligence, it’s an act of imagination.”[1]

 

The infants -- those who see by faith -- recognize the hand of God in the signs Jesus performs.

 

To those who really see him, Jesus says, “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart…”.

 

To be yoked with Jesus, we, too, must be gentle and humble in heart.

 

The work of the Church in our world is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ. We are yoked with Christ in the fulfilling of that mission. 


If we come to this work without gentleness and without a humble heart, we will not be equally yoked. And we will travel in circles rather than toward God’s mission of reconciliation.

 

Today, we will send Marvin into the mission field---working for reconciliation. He will spend time with Annunciation House—a ministry that serves the poor in migration on the El Paso-Juarez border.

 

Before he was accepted as volunteer, Annunciation House asked if I would offer a reference for him. In their form, they described the work he will do: “Our ministry depends on individuals committed to living and working among the homeless poor—in a spirit of faith and solidarity.”  

 

They are describing the work of reconciliation. And the qualities needed to live with the homeless poor in a spirit of allyship are gentleness and humbleness of heart.

 

When we nurture these qualities, the yoke of Christ is easy, and the burden is light.

 

  [1] Christopher Moore; Lamb: the Gospel according to Biff, Christ’s childhood pal; p 394

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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