Listen

 “Listen”

Trasnfiguration Sunday

Luke 9:28–43a

March 2, 2025

Burnt Hills United Methodist Church

Video from Livestream

This is my Son. My chosen. Listen to him.

I really love the quote that’s on the cover of the bulletin this morning.

Everyone wants a revolution, but no one wants to do the dishes.

There’s actually a print of it on Etsy that I’d love to get framed, and I think it would look really nice hanging up by the sink in the kitchen by Knight Hall.

Everyone wants a revolution, but no one wants to do the dishes.

It’s a truism attributed to the late Dorothy Day, Servant of God—one of the founders of the Catholic Worker Movement, a journalist, and a politically radical social activist. She dedicated her life to serving the poor and advocating for justice, all rooted in her deep faith in Jesus Christ.

I love this quote because it’s just so gosh darn true. We love the idea of radical transformation. We want to see the world turned upside down. But we balk when it comes time for the rubber to hit the road. We balk when it comes time to do the everyday, mundane work of making it happen.

We love the idea of justice, but when it’s time to step up to the plate and do the work of justice? We hesitate.

We love the idea of peace, but when it’s time to take a swing and do the work of peacemaking? We freeze.

We love the idea of a world transformed by love, but when we have to do the hard work of taking up our own cross and letting the parts of us that keep us from joining that love die away? When that ball floats right down the middle? We choke.

We stand there, waiting for the perfect pitch, and we strike out looking.

We love the idea of a revolution, but what about doing the dishes?

This is the question that should convict us this Transfiguration Sunday because this tension—the tension between grand visions and daily labor—is what this story is all about.

Luckily, this tension is not a new thing for those of us who call ourselves disciples of Jesus Christ. The disciples in this morning’s story are caught in the same tension. When following Jesus means bearing witness to great wonders and miracles, they’re all in. When following Jesus means listening to teachings that amaze the crowds, they’re all in. They love the idea of being a part of something bigger—of being a part of something world-changing.

They’re all in for the glory, but when the time came to do the work? They hesitated.

When the time came to cast out demons? They froze.

When the time came to heal the sick or feed the hungry or step into the suffering of others? They choked.

Just like us, they let the moment pass. They struck out looking.

Everyone wants a revolution, but no one wants to do the dishes.

This is my Son. My Chosen. Listen to him.

Not just hear him—listen. There’s a difference, isn’t there? We all know what it’s like to be heard but not listened to. We all know what it feels like to speak and have our words pass right through someone.

And so, given that this is the command, perhaps it would do us some good to refresh our memories and remind ourselves of what exactly are the sort of things that Jesus has said up until this point. This Epiphany season, which ends today, has covered much of it.

His public ministry started at a synagogue in Nazareth, reading from the scroll of Isaiah.

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me because the Lord has anointed me. He has sent me to preach good news to the poor, to proclaim release to the prisoners and recovery of sight to the blind, to liberate the oppressed, and proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.

He rolls up the scroll and tells the crowd in Nazareth, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.

Jesus inaugurates his public ministry on earth with a proclamation. Good news for the poor is here, now. Release for the prisoners is here, now. Recovery of sight for the blind is here, now. Liberation is here, now. What are you waiting for?

Jesus then calls his disciples and preaches another sermon on a vast plain. A sermon that foretells a complete undoing of the social order. The hungry are blessed and woe to those who are full. The poor are blessed and woe to those who are rich. The ones who are spat upon and reviled are blessed and woe to those who are spoken well of.

Love your enemies. If someone hates you, do good to them. Bless those who curse you and pray for those who mistreat you.

And then, after doing some miracles, he tells his disciples that they have power and authority over all demons and to heal sickness and he sent them out, and they did exactly what Jesus had told them to do. They preached the good news. They healed the sick and they cast out demons.

But then they came back.

They came back and they told Jesus about all of the wonderful things that they had done and a crowd started to gather and as the day passed, that crowd did what crowds do. They got hungry.

The disciples, keenly aware of this, approach Jesus and say, “hey, maybe you should send them away so they can get something to eat for themselves?”

These are the same disciples who had just been given power and authority over demons and disease. The same ones who had just healed the sick and cast out evil in Jesus’ name. And now, when the problem before them is hunger, their best solution is to send people away? Have they already forgotten what Jesus just empowered them to do?

Thankfully, Jesus didn’t let them get away with it.

You give them something to eat, he tells them.

As in, no, you don’t just get to be spectators in my miracles. You have to join me in them.

Because Jesus knows what’s coming. He knows that he’s not going to be around forever. He knows that he will have to do die. Not to pay off some cosmic debt or pacify a wrathful and vengeful God, but because, quite simply, to be born is to begin to die.

Perfect Love became flesh and took on all of flesh’s limitations, including death, and he tells his disciples that this is what following him entails.

And then, Jesus takes Peter, James, and John up the mountain. Away from the crowds. Away from the questions. Away from the ones who still don’t quite understand.

And in the stillness of that high place, something happens. Something beyond words. His face changes. His clothes shine. And standing beside him—Moses and Elijah, the Law and the Prophets, all history converging on this moment. The three of them talk about his exodus. They talk about his departure. They talk about his impending death.

Jesus knows what’s waiting for him in Jerusalem. Jesus knows that the cross is coming. Because when power is threatened, power will do everything it can to preserve itself—clutching at its hollow grasp on reality. And Jesus knows that the gospel he was preaching—a gospel of repentance, love, and liberation—was a direct threat to the powers of his social order.

Unfortunately, weighed down with sleepiness, Peter, James, and John still don’t get it. They try to take what is supposed to be a fleeting glimpse into eternity and make it last forever.

They had their revolution, and they didn’t have to do any dishes.

Thankfully, Jesus still didn’t let them get away with it.

Jesus drags them back down the mountain, back into the messy, back into the everyday, back into the mundane and what is he greeted by?

Yet another crowd. And in that crowd, there’s a father pleading for help.

His son suffering under the grip of, of all things, a demon.

Remember? A demon like those demons that Jesus, just moments ago, had given his disciples all power and authority to cast out?

Jesus comes back down the mountain and is greeted by a man with a suffering son and his disciples who had the power to alleviate the boy’s suffering but didn’t.

Why? The text doesn’t say.

In fairness, maybe the disciples did try. Maybe they tried with all their might and failed.

But maybe they thought that it would be better if they just let Jesus took care of it for them.

Maybe they were caught up in their own fears or doubts or concerns.

Maybe they just couldn’t be bothered. Send that boy away so that he can take care of himself.

But whatever the reason, one thing remains: while they hesitated, the boy suffered. While they waited, his suffering lasted longer than it should have. They had the power. They had the calling. But they didn’t act.

They were waiting for the revolution, and the pile of dishes was getting taller.

Jesus didn’t let them get away with it.

Listen to Jesus’ words:

You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and put up with you?

They’re hard words, but important, nonetheless. They are not the words we want to hear, but they are words we have to really and truly listen to. We have to understand and totally comprehend them, because they’re words for us as much as they are for them.

We have been equipped.

We have been empowered.

We have been called to do the work.

Because, friends, there are still plenty of demons out here possessing folks.

We’ve got folks who are possessed by loneliness. We can do something to cast that demon out.

We’ve got folks who are possessed by shame. We can do something to cast that demon out.

We’ve got folks who are possessed by hunger. We can do something to cast that demon out.

We’ve got folks who are possessed by poverty. We can do something to cast that demon out.

We’ve got folks who are possessed by homelessness. We can do something to cast that demon out.

We’ve got folks who are possessed by mass incarceration. We can do something to cast that demon out.

We’ve got folks who are possessed by political calcification. We can do something to cast that demon out.

We’ve got folks who are possessed by greed and an insatiable lust for power. We can do something to cast those demons out.

We’ve got folks who are possessed by economic anxiety. We can do something to cast that demon out.

We’ve got folks who are possessed by bigotry. We can do something to cast that demon out.

We’ve got folks who are possessed by ableism, folks who are possessed by classism, folks who are possessed by racism and white supremacy and cisheteropatriarchy and every other form of wickedness that hides us from the suffering of others and I know we can do something to cast those demons out.

We’ve got folks who are possessed by all sorts of demons that go by all sorts of names, and I know we can do something to cast those demons out.

What demons are we letting linger because we hesitate?

What suffering continues because we wait for someone else to act?

United Methodists of Burnt Hills, we can be a church that lives in the power of the Spirit. We can be a church that casts out all of these demons that pervade our communities and more. Or we can be weighed down with sleep and wait for someone else to come along and do it for us.

We can sit around and dream of a revolution, or we can roll up our sleeves and wash some dishes.

The voice calls out from the heavens. This is my Son. My chosen. Listen to him.

Jesus’ voice is clear and his message is plain. It was clear and plain for his disciples in Galilee two thousand years ago and it is clear and plain for his disciples in Burnt Hills today.

“I’m not going to be here forever. Come. Join me in my death so that all may have new life.”

That’s the message we have to listen to.

That’s the message we have to take to heart.

May the one who began a good work be faithful to complete it in us.

The work continues.

Amen.