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Doubt is a universal human experience. We have all felt the pain, the harassment, and the threat of it.

Doubt comes in different depths. The deepest form denies that we can believe anything at all. The other

extreme is the mind of the dogmatic that sails along with unquestioning confidence on a sea of tranquil

certitude.


While there is a certain appeal in dogmatic tranquility, there is also the danger that we might

overlook the possibility of error in our most familiar beliefs. As much as we might like to think of

eliminating any trace of doubt in our life, the truth is that it would be undesirable, even if it were

possible.


Doubt clouded that first Easter. Luke says that when the apostles heard the news from the women who

visited the tomb, they would not believe it. Of course, Thomas is the classical example of doubt on the

first Easter. Jesus had appeared to the disciples that night, but Thomas was absent. When Thomas found

the group, they were exclaiming, "We have seen the Lord." Thomas, being troubled with doubt,

responded, "Unless I see the mark of the nails on his hands, unless I put my finger into the place where

the nails were, and my hand in his side, I will not believe it." Thomas may be the patron saint of

Missouri, whose license plates declare is the "show me" state. Thomas needed to see before he could

believe!


But then, eight days later, Jesus again paid no attention to the locked doors, and appeared and showed

Thomas his hands which still carried the prints of the nails and his side with its wound. In that moment

St. Thomas the Apostle experienced the power of the Risen Christ in his life and exclaimed one of the

greatest confessions of the New Testament, "My Lord and my God." Aren't we all a little like Thomas?

Thank God for that! Because, as Elton Trueblood has said, "A faith that is never questioned isn't worth

having." Thomas remained with the others until his doubts and uncertainties were transformed into a

dynamic faith.


The winning over of Thomas, the doubter, prefaces our Savior’s blessing upon all "who have not seen

and yet believe." St. Peter remembered that blessing and wrote, "Without having seen him you love

him; though you do not now see him you believe in him..."; Jesus did not condemn the doubt of

Thomas nor the honest struggles with faith others expressed to him in the New Testament. He invited

Thomas to have his satisfactions of proof by touching him, allowing the dubitative disciple to refurbish

his faith through the touch test.


Beliefs must be checked in some objective manner. Our Anglican heritage gives us four such tests,

saying that our beliefs must be worked out, examined, refined through Scripture, tradition, reason, and

experience. This is especially important in the matter of faith because just as in the world of science

"seeing is believing", so in the realm of faith, "believing is seeing." So, it is important to face our doubts

and let them lead us deeper into faith's certainties.


When people tell me that they have never had a moment of probing religious doubt, I find myself

wondering whether they have ever known a moment of vital religious conviction. For if one fact stands

out above all others in the history of religion, it is this: the price of a great faith is a great and continuous

struggle to get it, to keep it, and to share it...It is a serious mistake to think of faith as a placid lake under

the bewitching beauty of the full moon. It is much more like the ocean in storm, the swift current of the

full river where one must stay alert if he would stay alive. Faith is a fight as well as a peace. I find

myself thinking of my task as a Pastor and Teacher in the way described by Paul Tillich, when he said,

"Sometimes I think my mission is to bring faith to the faithless and doubt to the faithful."


YomHaShoa, Holocaust Memorial Day, begins at sunset tomorrow. We will be painfully reminded of

Adolph Hitler. Hitler was an atheist. We usually think of atheism as ultimate doubt. But when you think

of it as a religion, you can see how helpful it would be to have a system of doubt to correct it. Hitler had

no religion to cast doubts on his approach to life. But there are other problems besides Hitler's form of

atheism. There is, for example, practical atheism. Practical atheists believe in God; God just doesn't have

anything to do with their lives. Martin Luther once wrote, "There is the man who has never doubted that

God is, but who lives as though he were not; and there is the man who doubts whether God is, or even

denies that He is, but lives a s though He were. In the latter, the grace of God is at work."

Look at the lives of the saints.


According to holy legend, doubt appears as a temptation which increases

in power with the increase of saintliness. In those who rest on their unshakable faith, Pharisaism and

fanaticism are the unmistakable symptoms of doubt which has been repressed. Doubt is overcome not

by repression but by courage. Courage does not deny that there is doubt, but it takes the doubt into itself

as an expression of its own finitude and affirms the content of an ultimate concern. Courage does not

need the safety of unquestionable conviction. It includes the risk without which no creative life is

possible. The Christian faith is stronger than our doubts. It is like the Chinese proverb, which says,

"Chinese sails, though full of holes, still work."


One of the things we are supposed to learn by the time we finish adolescence is that meaning can

function on more than one level. Our schooling has tended to teach us to believe that things are either

true or false; they either happened or they didn't . When this type of reasoning is applied to a sacred text,

one is placed in the awkward position of either affirming the whole thing or selectively denying it on

tenuous grounds, such as one's present world view. What we are looking for is not simply a belief

system, but an identity, a tradition in which we can locate ourselves.


Suppose a half dozen of us were seated around the walls of a darkened room. We are told that

somewhere in the open, middle space, there is a chair. Which of us will find that chair? Certainly not

those who sit still and philosophize about where the chair might be placed. No, the chair can be found

only by those who have the courage to get up and risk stumbling around in the dark, using whatever

powers of reason and sensation we might have until the chair is discovered.


Or in our relationships with those we love. I have faith that my wife loves me. I feel her kindness, her

caring, her loving touch - all these I interpret to mean that she loves me. Not every moment of our

relationship has been perfectly romantic, but her acts of love are such that, while I cannot claim absolute

certainty now or about the future, I have a deep faith in her love for me. We cannot ever; or

the experience of love with the same probability as sunrise or a lab experiment, but we have

faith that love is real, is what we know to be the case, is the explanation which correctly interprets

certain "scientific experience."


Once a young man said to the philosopher, Blaise Paschal, "Oh that I had your creed, then I would live

your life." Paschal replied, "Let me tell you something, young man. If you will live my life, it will not be

many days until you have my creed." In other words, Paschal is saying it is easier to act your way into

belief than the other way around. And when we see Thomas after the resurrection, we follow the

trajectory of his faith from confusion to confession. The Risen Christ, at last, confronted him in the

presence of the others and together they dealt with his doubt until it gave way to affirmation. He does

that for us, too.


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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