‘…with shining faces’

March 2, 2025

Scriptures: Exodus 34:29-35, 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2, Luke 9:28-36

All three of our scripture references this morning refer to a certain glow or shine that is directly related to the glory, or the presence of the Lord. In our first reading we hear that Moses, upon speaking with the Lord on Mount Sinai would take on a profound brightness, as though the glory of God’s presence had rubbed off on him, or remained on his face after he had come down from the mountain. A glow so bright that it frightened the other Israelites, who then had to be encouraged to draw near to Moses so he could relay what he had heard from the Lord.

In our second reading we hear Paul counseling us to live ‘boldly with unveiled faces’, for we have not only seen the glory of God in Jesus Christ, but are being transformed into his likeness by faith. Those who know Christ therefore possess a new reality so to speak. One that gives them a new ‘radiance’ as well, and one that then places certain responsibilities upon them as followers of Jesus.

And then finally in our passage from Luke’s gospel we encounter the story known as the ‘Transfiguration of Our Lord’…that time in our faith story when the glory of God was fully present and observed by three disciples who were with Jesus when he was speaking with Moses and Elijah up on the mountain. Our reading notes that towards the end of the encounter, the voice of God spoke out, affirming that Jesus was indeed the Messiah. The extreme brightness of that encounter completely overwhelmed the disciples, causing Peter to try and find a way to prolong the special moment as long as possible.

All three of these passages speak of some sort of transformation, of some way that the glory of God conferred a certain brightness upon humanity. A brightness that was meant to be noticeable, meant to make some sort of profound and indeed challenging impression upon any who were not glowing similarly themselves. Which in a way, brings us back to last week’s discussion of ‘contrast community’.

Last week we spoke of our call as followers of Jesus to be a ‘contrast community’. Which I would hold is always the case for ‘authentic’ faith, but which seems all the more soin these times of great social unrest and uncomfortable change. And as stated last week, being a community that stands in contrast to prevailing social ways of being, means that we are not only visibly different in how we act and in what we say, but also different in a way that draws onlookers in…different in a way that perhaps births a sense of hope within a seeker’s heart, hope that there might actually be a way forward…a pathway to walk within the company of others, and away from the noise and distressed confusion of the moment.

And in listening to our passages this morning, it would seem that our ‘difference’ finds its truest expression in living within the midst of all that currently is, without the protective veil of Moses…refusing to let our faith be hidden under the proverbial ‘bushel’ or ‘snuffed out’ due to fear or caution. Living out our faith ‘without the veil and with faces that shine’, means that we are allowing the full brightness of our Lord to be reflected in who we are, and in what we say or do regardless of any personal cost, loss, or repercussions.

Which all reminds me of a delightful little story I heard years ago and which I know I have shared before. It is a timeless story however, which bears repeating, and which reflects on this claim that the Spirit’s presence within our lives is a visible, if sometimes puzzling phenomenon. The story speaks of the presence of the Spirit and how it directs us to live out our lives both in faith with one another, and for the benefit of others looking in on our community.

The title of the little story is The Rabbi’s Gift, and it was reputed to have been first told by a monk named Francis Dorff who lived in an abbey down in New Mexico…it goes something like this…

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There was a famous monastery that had fallen on very hard times. Formerly its many buildings were filled with young monks and its big church resounded with the singing of the chant; but now it was deserted. People no longer came there to be nourished by prayer. A handful of old monks shuffled through the cloisters and praised their God with heavy hearts.

On the edge of the monastery woods, an old Rabbi had built a little hut. He would come there from time to time to fast and pray. No one ever spoke with him, but whenever he appeared, the word would be passed from monk to monk: “The Rabbi walks in the woods”. And, for as long as he was there, the monks would feel sustained by his prayerful presence.

One day the Abbot decided to visit the Rabbi and to open his heart to him. So, after the morning Eucharist, he set out through the woods. As he approached the hut, the Abbot saw the Rabbi standing in the doorway, his arms outstretched in welcome. It was as though he had been waiting there for some time. The two embraced like long-lost brothers. Then they stepped back and just stood there, smiling at one another with smiles their faces could hardly contain.

After a while the Rabbi motioned the Abbot to enter. In the middle of the room was a wooden table with the scriptures open on it. They sat there for a moment in the presence of the Book.  Then the Rabbi began to cry. The Abbot could not contain himself. He covered his face with his hands and began to cry too. For the first time in his life, he cried his heart out. The two men sat there like lost children, filling the hut with their sobs and wetting the wood of the table with their tears.

After the tears had ceased to flow and all was quiet again, the Rabbi lifted his head. “You and your brothers are serving God with heavy hearts,” he said. “You have come to ask for a teaching of me. I will give you a teaching, but you can only repeat it once. After that, no one must ever say it aloud again.”

The Rabbi looked straight at the Abbot and said, “The Messiah is among you.” For a while all was silent. Then the Rabbi said, “Now you must go.”

The Abbot left without a word and without ever looking back. The next morning, the Abbot called his monks together in the chapter room. He told them he had received a teaching from “the Rabbi who walks in the woods” and that this teaching was never again to be spoken aloud. Then he looked at each one of his brothers and said, “The Rabbi said that one of us is the Messiah.”

The monks were startled by this saying. “What could it mean?” they asked themselves. “Is brother John the Messiah?  Or Father Matthew? Or Brother Thomas? Am I the Messiah? What could this mean? They were all deeply puzzled by the Rabbi’s teaching. But no one ever mentioned it again.

As time went by, the monks began to treat one another with a very special reverence. There was a gentle, wholehearted, human quality about them now which was hard to describe but easy to notice. They lived with one another as men who had finally found something. But they prayed the scriptures together as men who were always looking for something. Occasional visitors found themselves deeply moved by the life of these monks. Before long, people were coming from far and wide to be nourished by the prayer life of the monks and young men were asking, once again, to become part of the community.

In those days the Rabbi no longer walked in the woods.  His hut had fallen into ruins. But, somehow or other, the old monks who had taken his teaching to heart still felt sustained by his prayerful presence.

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The first time I came across this story I was deeply moved…it seemed so simple and yet so powerful at the same time. And the more I thought about it the more I realized that the truth within it is something we all can learn from. It makes it seem as though living into a call to ‘remove the veil’ and to ‘live with shining faces’ so to speak may be less difficult and in fact far simpler than we might have thought.

For in truth…our veil is removed every time love is extended towards another, for it is the Spirit who empowers us to give that love in the first place. God’s grace is present in each kind word or shoulder offered to another in support…

And in truth…our veil is removed and our faces shine each time we offer a warm coat to another in our thrift shop, in fact it is removed for every time we offer to assist or to help others in any of the acts of ministry we are called to as the body of our Lord.

Our veil is removed and our faces shine within our food pantry and soup kitchen as well, handing out not just food, critical supplies, and meals, but hope and energy to walk another day as well. 

And many are the times I have seen faces brightly shining at the farm stand on the weekend, where so many come seeking healthy and life giving food, not even realizing that God has called them there to receive words of life as well…it is amazing to reflect after each one comes by just what the word of grace or love was that person needed to hear…but it happens!

Without veils and with shining faces we rejoice in the camaraderie of good friends and in the joyous humor of working together…be it to repair the church, to sort through the generous donations received almost daily at the Thrift Shop and weekly for the food pantry, or even just in the love and care we are able to share for each other during our fellowship after worship.

Our life, our bless-ed, bless-ed life as one small part of the body of our Lord, called together in ministry in this place is as full and as rich as it is because we have taken the time to let the joy of what we do together shine outwardly onto and all across our community. As we continue to see the need for hope and assurance of goodness increase across our community, let us strive all the more to stay fully revealed before our God, allowing the Spirit to guide, provide, encourage, and brighten our souls within us…for only in that reflection, can the darkness of the moment begin to approach the brightness of a new day…

…amen