Carol Barriger &= nbsp; &nbs= p; &= nbsp; &nbs= p; &= nbsp; &nbs= p; &= nbsp; &nbs= p; &= nbsp; = Mark 9:2-9

1^st Congregational <= st1:PlaceType w:st=3D"on">Church of Redwood C= ity, UCC &nbs= p; &= nbsp; &nbs= p; Carl Sandburg, Who Am I?

February 26, 2006 (8^th Sun= day in Epiphany, Transfiguration)

“The Pact of Silence”<= o:p>

As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell

no one about what they had seen,…= ; (Mk 9:9)

&= nbsp; Let’s talk about secrets. Secrets a= re a wonderful, tantalizing part of being a child. Usually, secrets mean surprises &#= 8211; a present, a party, a trip to a special place like D= isneyland. Some adults I know still love secr= ets like this and are really good at creating, and keeping, them for others. Children get a little older, and s= ecrets shared with a best friend are the hallmark of a special relationship – “I can tell you anything,” and “You can tell me= anything.” You are my forever-friend. How many of y= ou had a childhood friend like that? At some point, secrets lose their childlike, surprise quality and become a concealment. For adolescents,= more street-wise and perhaps a little cocky about impending adulthood, secrets sometimes mean backbiting about another person, saying or doing hurtful things. It’s a way of experimenting with personal power, and sadly, youth are sometimes imitating adult behavior that they see in real life or on television. Secrets may mean some mis-guided activity – “I’ll kill you if you breathe a word of this to anyone, especially my parents.”

&= nbsp; Then there are toxic secrets which can appear at any age – especially the = sort that surround domestic violence or sexual abuse – “You mustn’t tell anyone; this is our little secret.” Such secrets are clothed in intimi= dation and are no longer so sweet. Families lock parts of their history in secret places – a rela= tive who went to prison, or an institution for the mentally ill; a suicide; a murder; a child born to a single woman and passed off as a cousin. Such secrets become the things nev= er spoken of, buried and lost parts of human lives, which can torture a family= in silence for generations. In t= he process, people lose parts of their identity. We never learn who we really are, = never “fully known,” in the words of Psalm139. So, as we grow up, it seems the delightful secrets of childhood somehow become more complicated and less delightful

&= nbsp; There is a difference between secret-keeping and confidentiality. Both are pacts of silence, but “Now you mustn’t tell anyone,” means something different in the context of a surprise birth= day party,… as opposed to two old friends sharing a work or marital problem,… or the context of sexual abuse of a child. Some things must not be kept secret, or hide under the cloak of presumed confidentiality. Think for a moment about where we = make pacts of silence in our lives. What things do we agree – explicitly or implicitly – not to talk about? And why? Is it that we are uncomfortable? How, and why, do we decide that so= meone “doesn’t need to know” … that it’s none of th= eir business … that it’s private … that we need to protect someone? What’s justifi= ed silence?

&= nbsp; There is Federal regulation (HIPAA[1]= legislation, for short) which protects the confidential nature of your heal= th information. Not everyone can= talk about that. There are profess= ional standards, such as my ordination vows, which included the question, “= Will you keep silent all confidences shared with you?” Each of these has carefully outlin= ed exceptions. There are certain situations where your private health information can be shared. I have a certain pact of silence w= ith you. I will not, and cannot be forced to, reveal matters we discuss under what some legalese calls “= the seal of the confessional.” Even though Protestants do not have confessionals, that concept is recognized across all faiths. However, like the HIPAA law, there are some specific exceptions. Those are the places where confidentiality turns into destructive secret-keeping. If I, or other helping professiona= ls, believe that something you are saying, or are about to say, indicates that = you are in danger of harming yourself, or harming another person; or if informa= tion is revealed indicating violence or sexual abuse, then I will tell you that = am what is called by the state a “mandated reporter.” I cannot, under the law, keep sile= nt. Clearly, these are exception= al occurrences. By and large, I = live in a pact of silence with you. Compassionate silence. Discerning silence. Confidentiality, not toxic-secret-keeping.

So we come to the gospels, where there is a phenomenon, particularl= y in Mark, call the “messianic secret.” This is open to a lot of debate, b= ut simply put, it seems that in the wake of miracles, healings, and declaratio= ns by others, Jesus repeatedly says things like, See that you say nothing to anyone. (Mk 1:43-44); and “… sternly ordered them not to t= ell anyone about him. (Mk 8:29-30. He seems to swear people to secrecy. This is what happens in the piece Bennett read this morning. There’s a mystical experience shared by several people and, As they were coming down the mountain,= he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen,… (Mk 9:9) He doesn’t want anyone to kn= ow who he is. Why? What is this about? Why in the wor= ld is it a secret? It seems to be a= t odds with the evangelism message in Matthew – go into all the world and te= ll people you have learned about God’s love through the person of Jesus. And then there are all= of Jesus’ supposed self-declarations in John’s gospel: I am the light of the world… (Jn 8:12) for example. I don’t want to spend too mu= ch time on the intricacies of Biblical scholarship here – some think that the whole “messianic secret” thing is bogus, non-historical; th= at Jesus did not care who knew who he was, because he did not see himself as miraculous or divine. The all= usions to secrecy, and then the evangelizing of Jesus as the Son of God – th= ese were, perhaps, narrative additions of the early church. They made Jesus a secret messiah, unrevealed until his death and resurrection. But such mental gymnastics beg the= real question which is important for each of us, “Who is Jesus? Why is he in my life in the 21st century?” And is that a secret of some sort, or a confidence?

“Who is Jesus? = Why is he in my life in the 21^st century?”

Those are a profound questions – and they call us to sit in silence with our own understanding of what the work of God might have been = in this man’s life, and what the work of God is in each of our lives. The call to be silent is not a dem= and to keep a secret, but an invitation to reflection deep in the heart. That is confidentiality. “Confidentiality” come= s from Latin con + fides, “with faith.” To maintain confidentiality means = to keep faith with. We are being gently chided not to run around in the world labeling Jesus, and declaring = his purposes for all humankind. T= hat is a peculiar arrogance. Each of= us must discern in the silence of his/her heart who Jesus is. In fact, it is our responsibility = in the United Church of Christ to engage this discernment over and over again. The UCC Constitution contains the statement: [We] affirm the responsibility of the Church in each generation to make the faith its own in reality of worship, in hones= ty of thought and expression, and in purity of heart before God…[2] = which means re-discern, = re-decide, re-think the radical me= ssage of love in the gospel, and re-think the person of Jesus. We do that in dialogue with one an= other, and in the silence of our hearts so that we can hear the still, small voice= of God. You know, that’s h= ard work. No wonder a lot of peop= le don’t want to do it. Th= ey just want someone to tell them what Jesus means.

Bennett read Carl Sandburg’s beautiful poem, Who Am I?= which concludes with the line, “My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive in the universe.”&nb= sp; But everything about the poem up until that point is not mystical, b= ut in very human imagery – the speaker has a head and feet, finger-tips = and hands. He dabbles, talks and knows. Imagine for a moment t= hat Sandburg is talking about the truth of who Jesus is, that he is even speaki= ng in Jesus’ own voice. The description is so evocative that it calls us to silence – but not the silence of secret-keeping – rather, the silence of awe. Listen again:

My head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things

I reach my hands and play with pebbles of destin= y.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of humankind at all signs reading "Keep Off."

My name is Truth and I am t= he most elusive captive in the universe.

&nbs= p; Who is Jesus? Who are we in relat= ion to him? How are we like him? I asked earlier that we think for a moment about the things that we keep secret. I think one thing that we keep sec= ret, that we almost have a pact of silence about especially in the UCC and other more open traditions, is that we are Christians. Now some people don’t like t= he label “Christian” for various reasons – feeling that it h= as been corrupted by culture along the way into something that Jesus would not recognize. This may be true, but let’s appropriate it for a moment as= a kind of shorthand for being followers of what Jesus called “The Way.” All right then ..= . do we keep it a secret that we are followers of Jesus? That we are seeking after that elu= sive truth of what his life meant? Do we tell people, “I’m a follower of Jesus, and I am trying to figure out why he is still in my life in the 21^st century?” No, I don’t believe most of = us here do on a daily basis. We = are part of that giant pact of silence in the American public which will claim = on a survey to be Christian, but that’s about it. The closest we will come is to say= we “go to church,” which by presumption seems to say one is a Christian, although other faith traditions, such as Buddhists, also call th= eir worship homes churches. &n= bsp;

Remember the difference bet= ween secret-keeping and confidentiality? We aren’t to keep the power of Jesus’ life and teachings= a secret in our lives. It’= ;s not a secret to live in that kind of love and light. I don’t think that we are to= keep it a secret that some people, starting with his disciples, have had unexplainable experiences of him. I do think we have to “keep faith with” the fact that we a= re on a perpetual search for truth, that we welcome others who are on that journey, and that we do not declare with arrogance or certainty, who Jesus = is for all people in all times and places.&nb= sp; Secret-keeping conceals and masks. And above all, secret-keeping is = the antithesis of the real message of Jesus. Novelist Emile Zola wrote: “If you ask me what I came i= nto this world to do, I will tell you: I came to live out loud.”&nbs= p; I think that could have been written about Jesus. There was no pact of silence. I think Jesus came to “live = out loud” in a new way. We,= too, must live out loud – not in a pact of silence – with wisdom and kindness toward one another, with courage and determination, and a willingn= ess to declare that we seek to create the world of peace and justice which is t= he reign of God’s Holy Spirit.

That’s living out lou= d.

Amen.

c:\data\carol\redwood = city 2006\sermons\ser0226.06 The Pact of Silence

Matthew, Ma= rk and Luke all mention a mystical occurrence that the church came to call the “transfiguration” of Jesus.&nb= sp; In reality, it is a story designed to help its hearers connect Jesus= and Moses, the greatest of the Hebrew prophets. Jesus climbs a mountain just as Mo= ses climbed Mt. Sinai. There are clouds there presumably signaling the overwhelming presence of God. Jesus returns from the encounter a changed person.

Mark 9:2-9

2 Six days later, Jes= us took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them,

3 and his clothes bec= ame dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them.

4 And there appeared = to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus.

5 Then Peter said to = Jesus, "Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one= for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah."

6 He did not know wha= t to say, for they were terrified.

7 Then a cloud oversh= adowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, "This is my Son, the Belo= ved; listen to him!"

8 Suddenly when they = looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus.

9 As they were coming= down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead.

”Who Am I?” is a 1916 creation of U. S. poet laureate Carl Sand= burg.

Is the mysterious figure he describ= es Jesus? Is it himself? Is it any one of us?

Who Am I

My head knocks against the stars.

My feet are on the hilltops.

My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of univ= ersal life.

Down in the sounding foam of primal things

I reach my hands and play= with pebbles of destiny.

I have been to hell and back many times.

I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.=

I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.

I know the passionate seizure of beauty

And the marvelous rebellion of humankind at all signs reading "Keep Off."

My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive in the universe.=

Here end the readings. May God add new understanding to our hearing of these words.