Latah Valley

Isaiah 40:6–11; Matthew 28:16–20

The options include climbing, biking, skiing, yodeling, singing with Julie Andrews, picking wild flowers, bird-watching, Elk-hunting, searching for Big Foot, erecting a satellite dish, clearing a forest or finally enjoying the scenery.   If you have ever wondered about the purpose of a mountain, and what practical use we might assign to a rise in elevation, these dangling participles, these recreational activities, may suffice.   And yet, for those of us who imagine the meaning of a mountain differently, to those who refuse to cave in to the user-friendly fascination of our society, there is another possibility that I’d like to explore with you today, and it’s a possible meaning that may be of the same fabric with the season of Easter. 

Annie Dillard talks about the frozen tundra of the north pole, and how (prior to Global Warming) a group of people tried to plow through the ice in a ship.   On board the vessel they had all the trappings of European civilization, fine china, wine goblets, dainty linens, ornate furniture.   Unfortunately, when the ship could go no further, the passengers and crew set out on foot and dragged all their stuff with them.   Eventually everyone and everything froze and the people, not sensible of conditions, died, clutching and grabbing and trying to hold on…  Now, I’m relating this experience today because I’d like us to consider the spiritual conditions of the mission we have in and through the risen Christ.   And the prime symbol of that condition is a mountain.  The only question is, which mountain?

  Is it a mountain upon which we slip and slide and no one gets hurt and everybody enjoys the view?   Yes, that could be part of it.    

But, from the authors of the Hebrew Scriptures and the Greek New Testament there are no apologizes for the rugged and unfriendly terrain upon which God’s salvation story unfolds.  First and foremost, there is Mount Sinai, upon which Moses receives the Decalogue, or the Ten Words.   Mount Sinai is neither the Promised Land, nor a comfortable vacation destination.   Mount Sinai is a brooding place, a locale of smoke and fire from which the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob demands accountability from a people that he might just as well carve out of rock.  

  

I remember the nervous moment when my history teacher called me out.   Mr. Parrish (which we pronounced Mr. Perish) sported a pointy beard and glaring set of bifocals.   He looked like the devil incarnate.  During class he seemed to enjoy putting his students on the spot, demanding answers to severe questions that seemed very much beyond us.   Anyway, one day, I discovered the difference between Mr. Parrish and the other history teachers in my high school.  My friend Paul used to forge the name of Mr. Puddy, who had tenure and was close to retirement.   He used to scribble the name of his teacher on a library pass and that pass would allow Paul to go to the library rather than study hall.   Well, I reasoned that Mr. Parrish wouldn’t mind if I scribbled his name.  So, without thinking, I did it.

I did it, and the next thing I knew, the devil confronted me before homeroom.   He said, “You misused my name.  You wrote my name without asking me to write it myself.  And now, Scott, I have to re-evaluate who you are…”   Mr. Parrish, as I remember him, was like my Mount Sinai.   I’d glad that I met him when I did, but I couldn’t live very long in that glare.

  

Second on the list of possible mountains, there is Mount Zion.   Mount Zion refers to one of the five peaks upon which the city of Jerusalem has been built.   Originally, Jerusalem had been a fortress and the severity of the rock formations made it seem like the most perfect and permanent place, maybe even God’s own footstool.   Israel claimed (and still claims) Mount Zion to be the sign and seal of God’s favor.   The only problem with this claim, as we seen, is that Mount Zion has been perpetually under siege, conquered and re-conquered—with the effect that the people who worship and serve from this mountain are prone to becoming extremely defensive.

  

“What ever happened to Christmas?”  The man, whose family had purchased and maintained the church’s organ, wanted us to sing O Little Town of Bethlehem in November.   I explained that we wanted to wait for Christmas.   He didn’t understand the idea of waiting, and indicated that if we didn’t start playing Christmas carols earlier in the season he would take his family’s money to Mount Zion United Methodist church down the street.

 But, finally, we have the mountains of Galilee, a place once called The District of the Nations by the prophet Isaiah.   The geological features in this region include the mountain upon which Jesus preached the legendary Sermon on the Mount and the mountain upon which he had been transfigured.   Mark’s gospel also refers to Jesus as retreating to and praying on a mountain side…Moreover, when the risen Christ scans the horizon for a launching pad from which he might send out his bedraggled disciples, he finds one here.  Here in Galilee.   Here in Galilee, the Crucified and Risen Savior finds a sending mountain.  And again, what we’re driving at are the true spiritual conditions in and through which we make the journey that God intends us.   And again, as I look around at the institutional church, I have to wonder whether or not most people have set up shop in the shadow of the wrong mountain. The risen Christ, you see, directs us to Galilee.   He doesn’t want us to be always cowering in the presence of Mr. Parrish or Mr. Perish.   Nor does he want us to be overly defensive, always protecting what we imagine that we can’t live without.   Instead, he arranges to meet the bedraggled disciples—all twelve minus one—on a sending mountain in Galilee.  And if you think that Galilee is too far away, let me suggest that a sending mountain can happen almost anywhere, even in a valley.     

A sending mountain has these crucial characteristics:

 1.     A sending mountain is less traveled and un-hyped by religious slogans and branding.   Travel it anyway.   Travel it even though the roads may be bad.   

2.     Just as Galilee is the hometown region of Jesus and the original fishermen-followers of Jesus, there may be aspects of your life and my life which have some kind of local flavor.  Don’t be afraid to emphasize things about your history which are peculiar to you, peculiar hurts, peculiar joys and interests. 

3.     A sending mountain overlooks Samaria, and its trails lead to places and to people who do not share our world view.   Similarly, it might be good for us to find that place where we can converse with folks who do not necessarily share our world view, with men, women and children who might ask us questions and challenge what we believe, and who also may be curious about the good news that in Christ we are forgiven and promised new life. 

4.     Galilee is comprised of gritty, messy stuff.   There are seeds, weeds, fish, nets, logs, specks, yokes, oxen—all the material things that help us stay grounded in the world.   Is there a place in your life like that?  Are there things that keep you situated and not always so cerebral or esoteric?