“Praise the Mount”
Lent Midweek, 3
March 6, 2024
Matthew 16:13-20
Pastor Stan Mitchell told the following parable:
I grew up believing there was a mountain called “Truth” and one had to make it to the top of that mountain to be “saved.” Not coincidentally, I was born into a family that belonged to a religious group that believed it dwelt at the top of that mountain. This was incredibly comforting.
With the passing of time, though, the winds of life slowly began to clear the clouds that hovered above the “peak” where I lived. With the clouds finally cleared, I looked upward. To my great shock, there was a vast mountain stretching infinitely into the sky. In that life-changing moment I was faced with an unavoidable reality — the “top” of the mountain where I had lived my whole life, the “pinnacle” of truth where my people had planted our flag of religious dominion, was actually nowhere near the top.
As I took it all in, it became clear — my spiritual home rested on a small outcropping only a short way up the side of the mountain. Stunned, even horrified, I noticed there were many other religious groups, groups similar to the one to which I had been a lifelong member, scattered all over the side of the mountain. And each of them had planted their own flags of religious superiority, having also assumed their outcroppings to be the mountain’s peak.
What we believe matters. It matters in how we treat one another, how we see ourselves, and how we see God. It matters when we say that Jesus is the Messiah. It matters what we mean by that. Consider all of the people harmed in the name of God. The Holy Land, caught up for centuries in battle for control—between Jews and Christians and Muslims. From Persian, Greek, and Roman emperors to crusades; from inquisitions to terrorist attacks; from suicide bombs to missiles directed at hospitals. What we believe about God matters.
Consider the rights of women, relegated to the role of incubator, locked up for daring to vote, beaten behind closed doors by ‘God-fearing’ husbands. Consider the people of African, Arab, and Asian descent, the Indigenous People of America, considered less-than-human, enslaved, tortured, lynched for talking to a white woman, denied access to human dignity, denied access to life—even, and especially by the Church and its members. Consider the lives of those in the LGBTQ community, beaten and raped and shunned into closets, exiled by the Church that preaches love—Matthew Shepherd, Brandon Teena, Nex Benedict—life stripped from them by fear.
What we believe about God matters. Who do we say Jesus is? What do we really believe about the Messiah? Just a good guy? A role model? A healer and teacher? A condemner? Or is there more? There must be more.
Stan Mitchell goes on…
I was so disoriented by this, I eventually lost my equilibrium and tumbled clawing and scraping down the side of the mountain to the valley below. For years after, I tried desperately to climb back up the mountain with the “real” peak of “truth” as my goal. I even hired spiritual sherpas and guides of every ilk in my desperate, sincere efforts to ascend the mount, to finally get to the top. Finally, I began to sense no one had ever fully scaled this limitless expanse of Mystery. Many had claimed to but none had. And maybe none ever would. Over time, I came to accept this, ultimately even finding a new and abiding comfort there.
As for my life now, I live happily at the base of the mountain. But don’t get me wrong, I still scale its slopes daily. These days, though, my mountain climbing is not an anxiety-riddled effort to find some afterlife salvation but rather an exhilarating exploration of the unspeakably lovely gift of our shared existence. And maybe my favorite part of the whole enterprise is that at the end of each day, I make my way back down the slopes, nod gratefully to the mountain, return to my cottage, and find rest. It is truly peaceful here in the mountain’s safe shadow.
Pastor Tobi White
Our Saviour’s Lutheran Church
Lincoln, NE
