Today’s Gospel is a particularly difficult passage. There isn’t very much wiggle room in the last verse, when Jesus reminds us that “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”


I wonder if you see yourself in any of the characters in this passage. Are we like the Samaritans, who would not receive him because he was intent on going to Jerusalem?


This is an interesting piece of the puzzle in this story. At this point, Jesus is heading to Jerusalem to be taken up into heaven. This is post-resurrection, right?


And yet the Samaritans… who presumably know that Jesus has been raised from the dead, nevertheless say you’re not welcome here. Why?

The Samaritans believed that proper worship of God happened on Mount Gerazim, which is in the present-day West Bank near Nablus. More importantly, they believed that proper worship of God did not and could not take place at the temple in Jerusalem on Mount Zion.


In short, the Samaritans would make the Savior of the world not welcome because, they believed, he worshipped wrong.

Seems to us a little silly, right… unless we get to thinking about the things we put up as differences between us. You know, I can’t worship with those Methodists, they sing too much. Or, you know those Baptists, they don’t believe Jesus is really there at Communion. No, no, no. We can’t have that.


When you think of it like that, it kinda sounds like we’re still fussing about mountains and temples.

In the end, when we see something we’re not sure, we cry out… but wait, but first, or, sometimes, just but.


As Jesus travels along, many profess their willingness to follow him. I’ll follow you, Lord, anywhere. Jesus seems to know that not all of this is sincere. The foxes have holes and the birds have a nest, but I’ve nowhere because people are always saying “but first.”


If it wasn’t explicit in the first example, Jesus says to another, “Follow me,” and the fella says: I will, Lord, but first let me bury my father.

At first glance, this seems reasonable, right? I mean, the poor guy ought to be able to bury his father before picking up and following Jesus.

Instead, Jesus responds in what seems like a kinda cold-hearted way.


Let the dead bury their own dead. You have to proclaim the kingdom of God.


Harsh.


Another one says: I’ll follow you, but first let me say goodbye to those at home.


Jesus again gives a stone-cold answer: that no one who looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.


I’ve been thinking all week about how I am going to reconcile this passage for myself so I can preach it to you.

And here’s the thing.


I don’t think I can.


Jesus is being just as stone cold, hard-hearted as you think he is in this passage.


The question to my mind is why.


I’d like to propose at least one simple answer: God isn’t looking for second-string players. He’s not looking for part-time workers. There are no mothers-and-fathers hours in the work being done to proclaim God’s kingdom.


To be sure, you can have children. You can have fathers and mothers and guests in your house.


But if you let things of this world get in the way of your charge to proclaim God’s kingdom, you’re not fit for the work.

Period.


Now Paul, I can hear some of you saying, that’s kinda hard. I mean, we all have houses, and children, and work, and things we have to take care of. You can’t expect us to drop all that all the time for church.


Ooohhhhh. That’s a tough call. Maybe I can’t, but I think Jesus is.


Well, I think he is after a fashion.


Of course, it’s okay to see to your parent’s funeral or the guests in your home.


What’s not okay is to let things of this world get in your way—to cloud your sight about what your purpose in this world is: to proclaim God’s kingdom.

The writers of the lectionary are really helping us to hear this today.


In the passage from Second Kings, Elisha asks for a double portion of Elijah’s spirit right before Elijah gets taken up.


By the way, did you notice that? Here we have a great prophet of God being taken up in a whirlwind of fire and chariots.


And in the Gospel lesson, we have Jesus headed to Jerusalem to get taken up.


Both men are at the end of their ministries on earth. And both say the same thing. Elijah responds to Elisha: You can have a double portion, but only if you keep your eyes on the prize. If you look away, it won’t come to you.


If you say, “But first,” you won’t get to go headfirst toward God. Elisha kept his eyes on the prize, and we are told he picks up Elijah’s mantle and separates the River Jordan so he crosses on dry land.


The psalmist echoes this when he says, “I will meditate on all your acts and ponder your great deeds. You are the God who works wonders.”


And the Galatians are told to live by the Spirit and not by the flesh. If you live by the flesh, Paul writes, you will get yourself into trouble. And then he lists his famous no-nos of fleshly living: strife, jealousy, idolatry.


Spirit-living, on the other hand, produces peace and love and joy. If you focus on one, you get into trouble. If you focus on the other, you have joy.


The Gospel—and indeed all the readings today—crystallize an important point for us: no buts. “But first.” “Yes, but.” All these buts put you on the wrong end of the stick.


If, on the other hand, you lead with your heart and not your butt, then you’ll head in the right direction. You’ll get a double portion of Spirit. You’ll realize the fruit of Spirit-living. You will naturally proclaim the kingdom of God in the Good News of Jesus Christ.


God himself will take care of burying the dead, and God himself will ensure the hospitality of your house.


Amen.

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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