Have you ever stood in a place where something important once happened? Maybe the Alamo or even Plymouth Rock? Or maybe you have traveled further and stood somewhere like the Mount of Olives?


When we stand in these places, it’s almost like there is a collapsing of time. We can imagine those other events taking place around us and somehow nearly see ourselves as participants, it seems in some ways we gain clarity from those other moments in time.


In our story today Joshua has chosen just such a place for his final address to the people of Israel.  They have gathered, west of the Jordan River, in Shechem, a place located in a mountain pass heading east/west between Mt Ebal and Mt Geraziim. The pass is not so wide. If you stood at the base of Mt. Ebal where the land levels out and started walking, you would reach the rise of Mt. Geraziim in about six minutes at a good pace.  Nearby are the great Oaks of Moreh. And for hundreds, maybe even thousands of years, people have gathered here beneath these trees, in the shadows of these mountains, to learn and to worship and to make covenants with God.


Joshua and the people of Israel have been here before. 


It was here that Joshua built an altar and gathered all the people as Moses had instructed -- to review the covenant that God made with them and to proclaim the Blessings and Curses—blessings if they remained faithful to the Lord, and curses if they forsook the Lord, according to the law of Moses. 


It was here that Jacob, also known as Israel, had set up an altar to the Lord in gratitude for being reunited with his brother Esau.


It was also here that Jacob, had called upon his entire family to give up their idols to foreign gods and consecrate themselves to the Lord and bury those idols beneath the tree at Moreh.


And it was here at the great tree of Moreh, that Jacob’s grandfather, Abraham, had first heard the promise of the LORD, “To your offspring I will give this land.” And Abraham had responded in gratitude by building an altar.


So many layers of history and time,

So many journeys and wanderings.

Altars built and idols buried.

Covenants made and broken and renewed.


In this sacred space, Joshua begins by recounting all the many ways that the LORD has been with them—how the LORD called Abraham out of his land and gave him promises, how Jacob and his sons went down to Egypt, how the LORD delivered the children of Israel from slavery, how the LORD gave the law to Moses and watched over the people and provided for them in the wilderness, and how the LORD has driven out the nations before them and given them this land flowing with abundance.


Then Joshua challenges them to fear the LORD and serve him faithfully and throw away their foreign gods, and he says, “but if you are unwilling to serve the Lord, then choose this day whom you will serve…”


The people gathered at Shechem that day respond, “Far be it from us that we should forsake the LORD to serve other gods…he has been there for us…he has seen us through…we will serve the LORD for he is our God”


But then, as if Joshua knows they are just saying the “right words”, he counters them—“You can’t do it! God is holy, and God wants all of you—not just a part. If you say you will serve the LORD and then forsake him and give your allegiance to other things—God is going to challenge you and call you out on your unfaithfulness.” And the people respond with added vigor. “No, we will serve the LORD our God.”


Then Joshua said to the people, “You are witnesses against yourselves that you have chosen the Lord, to serve him.” And they said, “We are witnesses.” He said, “Then put away the foreign gods that are among you, and incline your hearts to the Lord, the God of Israel.” 

 

As I meditated on this passage I found myself wondering, “What are those other gods that call for our allegiance in our day? On what altars do we sacrifice our time? Our health? Our children? Maybe they are the gods of Wealth, or Security, or Prestige. To whom do we pay homage by fearing? Do we fear the gods of Poverty, or Rejection, or Illness? I am working through this for myself—what do I fear? What am I willing to make compromises or sacrifices for? And am I willing to throw away or bury all those things and put my full trust in the LORD?


For some of us our sacred places have been taken away, we are unable to return to those places where our ancestors went before to make their vows to the LORD. And yet, we have an experience that bears much the same power and weight.


Last week we renewed our Baptismal Covenant. We renew it every All Saints Day and every Pentecost Sunday and every year on the Baptism of our Lord and every time there is a Baptism in our midst. It was declared at our own baptism and we proclaimed it when our children were presented to the LORD. In Baptism we are reminded of the waters of creation and the waters through which the children of Israel passed. We are reminded of our sin and our redemption in Christ and the offer to be made whole again.


So many layers of history and time,


So many journeys and wanderings.


Altars built and idols buried.


Covenants made and broken and renewed.



And we make our vows and we recite our creeds and we say the words of our confession. But then, as if Joshua knows we are just saying the “right words,” he counters us—“You can’t do it! God is holy, and God wants all of you—not just a part. If you say you will serve the LORD and then forsake him and give your allegiance to other things—God is going to challenge you and call you out on your unfaithfulness.” And we respond with added vigor. “No, we will serve the LORD our God.”


Then Joshua says to us, “You are witnesses against yourselves that you have chosen the Lord, to serve him.” And we say, “We are witnesses.” He says, “Then put away the foreign gods that are among you, and incline your hearts to the Lord, the God of Israel.” 


And from our Baptismal Covenant we respond, “We will, with Gods help.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     


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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