A sermon preached at Magdalene College, Oxford for Evensong on the Sunday before Lent.
The texts were 2 Kings 2:1-12 and Matthew 17: 1-23
It’s been described as ‘furiously fast, furiously funny and still not for the faint-hearted’; ‘a magnificent comedy that us good for both heart and the soul’.
Sex Education is now in its second series, explores significant questions beyond teenage sexual escapades. It talks about mental health, bullying and parental pressure; it handles addiction, assault and consent. It frames questions of identity, belonging and inclusion.
The search for intimacy is seen as something serious and good, which can’t be reduced to sex. There is hope as well as heartache. The characters are open to growth and change, acceptance and forgiveness.
For Maeve Wiley this means, in part, deciding whether to rebel or excel; whether to be defined by her past experiences of rejection or by the potential she’s invited to explore. Teetering on the cusp of self-sabotage she faces the frosty welcome of her more privileged peers who aspire to be prime-ministers and movie-makers.
What she’s written heartbreakingly eloquent, honest and moving: ‘In 10 years' time, I want to live in a house with big windows. I want the house to be large enough to have a kitchen table with four chairs but not too roomy to ever feel the depth of my aloneness. Because I'll probably be alone. But I think aloneness won't feel so all-consuming with windows that protect me from the world but still let me watch it.’
And her teacher’s response: ‘You’re a beautiful writer, Maeve. You can have more expansive dreams than four chairs and some windows.’
We can all have more expansive dreams; but to do that we need to feel safe. Sometimes we do need to be alone, but we also need to work together.
The physical framing of Maeve’s ten year dream reflects her fears and isolation; her need for safety and a level of self-reliance. Her past is shaping what she allows herself to hope for; but being made in the image of God, our human potential is more audacious than that.
Today’s readings invite us to dream expansively; but they also allow us to name our fears and the things that make us feel safe.
In our first lesson, Elijah is aware that he is to leave the earthly realm; and this moment of departure is something that he feels should be, a private encounter between him and God. He is imaging perhaps his own space where he is alone and protected.
Elisha, his devoted and loyal follower, feels differently: he makes pronouncements which affirm the intimacy of their present relationship, but which also reveal something of his own expansive dream. He is not only a follower, but an heir and successor.
When Elijah himself tells Elisha to say - because the Lord is sending him onwards - the younger man will not leave.
As the news of Elijah’s departure seems becomes widespread with other prophetic voices chiming in, again Elisha asserts his knowledge of that reality; but also bids them be silent as he journeys on. He has no intention of leaving him.
As Elijah’s removes his mantel, and as waters part, we enter the intimate and liminal moment before he is taken up to heaven. Here, he lays aside the sign of his office; his work is done.
But as the horizon shifts for him, as earthly life draws to a close; for Elisha the proximity of this moment opens up a more expansive dream.
It may seem presumptuous to lay claim to a double portion of Elijah’s spirt; a ten year dream that is so audacious it seeks to surpass his master. Yet, perhaps like those in Maeve’s cohort, the confident request masks a feeling of inadequacy.
Elisha is loyal. He’s had the privilege of time with Elijah. Yet he knows he cannot rely on his own strength to step up to accomplish the task ahead of him.
Here Elijah has to discern whether or not Elisha is up to it: a little like Maeve’s teacher having to challenge and encourage, cajole and affirm to test out whether she has the character as well as the ability to take the next step.
His discernment is predicated on the what God reveals of Godself in the moment of departure; and how receptive Elisha is to seeing things differently.
Elisha watches and waits; he glimpses in a vision of immense heat and power and energy the reality that his mentor had indeed been the spiritual driving force of the nation.
Icon from Greek Orthodox Church in St Louis, MO
This is a moment of letting go: his way of relating in physical proximity comes to Elijah to an end; and yet in letting go, a new and expansive future opens up. A future which needs careful handling.
Any power and authority entrusted to us can be like a fire or whirlwind. Does it disrupt, distort or corrupt our instincts for good? Or perhaps does it real something of who we are and our character under pressure?
Some of us will be coming to terms with the report about Jean Vanier over the last 24 hours: recognising afresh the dangers of making our heroes saints; of uncritical human regard for fame and influence.
The conversation between Elijah and Elisha reflects back to us the need for wise mentors; of the importance of accompanying one another in accountability; of the discernment needed in seeking to fulfil our hearts desire; of letting go of our heroes and seeing things through the refining fire of God’s love.
Those lessons apply to each of us - whatever our roles and responsibilities, however expansive our dreams. Alone and together we need there to be safety and support; we need to trust enough to flourish, but not to trust so much that we collide with that which diminishes others.
What then of our second reading? Might it also shape our expansive dreams whilst also holding in check our desire for power and glory?
In this moment of transfiguration, we see not a change in Jesus, but a change in how those closest to him see him. They see the fullness of God’s light and life. In the body of this one who is God with us, the beloved son, they see the radiance of love.
Moses and Elijah frame this love with freedom and faithfulness and justice.
Transfiguration - James B. Janknegt, USA
But this body will suffer and die; this body will carry the weight of human violence and exploitation; this body unmasks our delusions of grandeur and self-interest; this body defeat’s the power of death itself. For this body will rise again; declaring that love has the last word.
This love checks the abuse of our power and privilege; it reveals that we cannot rely on our own strength alone. It points us to the risk of humility and trust; of placing our faith in God whose will it is that frail and bruised bodies should be restored, transfigured, redeemed and made whole.
Yes, like Maeve we must expansive dreams; but those dreams don’t lock us in behind windows. Our need for safety should challenge us to keep others safe. Love moves us from fear to trust, from human effort to divine grace; from self-reliance to accountability.
All this for the sake of others. In our learning, creativity, responsibility and potential, may we seek to be people who bring life and hope our of sorrow and death. So we pray for the Holy Spirit's gift of charity - bond of peace and source of all virtue.
© Julie Gittoes 2020
