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Sunday, August 10, 2003
Sermon: "Reflecting/Transforming Light"
Scripture: Ephesians 4:25-5:2
Reverend Larry Gerber

Like the finest stained-glass windows, our appearance changes depending on whether we are reflecting or transmitting the divine light of our Lord. But both uses of light can be beautiful.
Look at the stained glass in this Sanctuary. What do you see? What does it reflect, in you mind? What does it transmit? (I will reflect on my account of the reflection and transmission of some of the stained-glass, both in the Sanctuary, and in the Chapel)
Look at another dimension of reflecting and transmitting light, or in this case (I will walk around the Sanctuary and let some of the congregation look into a mirror that I will be holding), reflection and transmission of the image of Christ, through our very own image. What is reflected, and what is transmitted, as you look at your mirror image, and as others see you through the reflection?
In 1886, Louise Wakeman Knox was married to Louis Comfort Tiffany of the Tiffany Glass and Decorating Company. She was the daughter of James Hall Mason Knox, the president of Lafayette College from 1883- '90. It is that link that no doubt accounts for the gift of the Alcuin and Charlemagne stained-glass window to the college in 1898. The window, created by Tiffany at the height of his powers and measuring six feet wide by 14 feet tall, consists of four panels. Two of the panels depict the Emperor Charlemagne and the monk Alcuin (735-804), who led a revival of learning later known as the Carolingian Renaissance, reading an astronomy book in the Palatine Chapel. The window was placed in an auditorium in Pardee Hall, which had already suffered two fires since its construction in 1872. Therefore, when the building underwent a renovation later in the 20th century, administrators thought it would be wise to place the Alcuin and Charlemagne window in storage for safekeeping. And then, like so many things we put in a safe place, it was forgotten. So deep was the neglect, that when Alistair Duncan wrote his book Tiffany Windows (Simon and Schuster, 1980), he said the window was missing. He thought it had been lost in a fire, and indeed, two Tiffany windows were destroyed in a 1965 fire in Colton Chapel. Then in 1990, after two interested alumni started nosing around, the Alcuin and Charlemagne window was found where it had been left, languishing in obscurity for much of the 20th century. It is now being restored and is slated for installation in Skillman Library at the college in 2004. Tiffany was a genius at his work. He used many layers of glass to create a topographical effect. He and a colleague invented the favrile, or opalescent technique. He also developed the so-called drapery glass to replicate the look of drapes and clothing. But here's the cool part: Rick Prigg, manager of the company restoring the work, says that "One of the special things about Tiffany windows is that they read on the surface with reflected light, and they also read with transmitted light." Reflected light. Transmitted light. Hold that thought. Today's lesson from Paul's letter to the Ephesians is a mosaic rubric for Christian living, put together in a stained-glass window of spiritual advice. Like Louis Tiffany himself, Paul uses different layers of glass to affect the transmission of divine light, creating a rich, tropological picture. He builds his "window" with such pieces as: • "Let all of us speak the truth to our neighbors" (v. 25) • "Do not let the sun go down on your anger" (v. 26) • "Thieves must give up stealing" (v. 28) • "[work honestly] so as to have something to share with the needy" (v. 28) • "Let no evil talk come out of your mouths" (v. 29) • "Do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God" (v. 30). Such advice, one could argue, is a reference to our function as the people of God in a world of darkness as reflectors of the light of God. Like mirrors, we reflect the point of light away from us, so that it benefits others. In this case, the light bounces off the glass instead of passing through it, and a whole different set of colors and qualities is revealed. Paul hints at this same function when he calls on us to "be imitators of God, as beloved children, and live in love, as Christ loved us" (5:1-2). In this case, people look at us and see a reflection of Christ's love. They glance at us and catch a flash of God's grace. They turn our way and see a glimmer of the Holy Spirit's power. The author Kathleen Norris had such an experience when she joined a Presbyterian church on a bitterly cold January day. She wondered if she was making a serious mistake, since she still felt like an outsider to the church and wondered if she always would. And yet, she knew that somehow, in ways she did not yet understand, that making this commitment was something that she needed to do. Before the service, she and the other new members gathered with some of the elders. One elder was a man that she had never liked much, since he was a gossip and always seemed ill-tempered. He was not the kind of person who would deserve white glass in a stained-glass window. The minister had asked this elder to greet the new members, and standing awkwardly before the small group he cleared his throat and mumbled, "I'd like to welcome you to the body of Christ."

How was Christ reflected, or transmitted, from this stone faced elder's "welcome". How welcome do you feel when the words of ones mouth does not reflect the image of the person standing in front of you? Do you feel welcome? Do you feel "the love of Christ?" Kathleen Norris reports that the minister's mouth dropped open, as did hers. Neither of them had ever heard words remotely like this come from the elder's mouth. "Like distant thunder, the words made me more alert," writes Norris. "My own small mind had just been jolted, and the world seemed larger, opened in a new way." The elder's words — those few, simple words of welcome — had power. They were the truth of God, reflecting off an ill-tempered elder. "Be imitators of God," says Paul. This means to copy God's grace and love and hospitality, even if we haven't come close to divine perfection ourselves. When the elder said, "I'd like to welcome you to the body of Christ," he was being an imitator of God, even though he was still an unpleasant person himself. He reflected God's love, and it changed Kathleen Norris' life. Tiffany living. That elder in Norris' story might have given some thought, however, to the virtue of not merely reflecting divine light, but transmitting it. The beauty of the Pauline window comes into focus in verse 32: "be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ has forgiven you." This is transmitted light — the light of God, not turned away from us, but actually seen in us. We, to the untrained eye, seem to be the source of light for others. We are able to be kind to one another, tenderhearted and forgiving not because we are particularly gracious people ourselves, but only because God in Christ has already forgiven us. Our goodness is not our own, but is a shaft of divine light shining through us. Christ in us, the hope of glory. Of course, whether reflecting divine light, or transmitting it, as windows of grace we're not much good in storage. We're not much good hidden away in a dark closet. We're not much good without a Light source. We're not much good if dirt, grime and dust are allowed to accumulate in our souls. We may not be stained-glass Christians, but we certainly are stained-grace Christians, recipients of grace made possible by the cross-stains of Jesus Christ.

Now, I know that many of you sit in, or near, the same seats every Sunday. But, do you ever really see, or feel, the presence of the Lord in those seated to your left or to your right? Do you know, without looking, who is seated in front of you, or behind you? Is the light of Christ reflected or transmitted to you, or from you?
Look at those around you, and say: "Welcome to the body of Christ" and listen, as those around you also say: "Welcome to the body of Christ".

Surely the presence of the Lord is in this place: in the reflection, and in the transmission of the image of Christ in each one of us.

Who did you see around you? What feeling was transmitted by those around you? What did you reflect, or transmit to those who saw and heard you in that "welcome"?

Do you feel the light of Christ? Do you feel His love, His forgiveness, His healing power?
One final note. Remember, white glass was traditionally reserved for Jesus by the great stained- glass artists, because white represents purity. Jesus was the one person who was completely transparent to God, who let divine light flow through him without obstruction, distraction or distortion. Because Jesus was both clear about God and clear to God, the light that he transmitted was downright dazzling. We saw it at the transfiguration, when Christ's "face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white" (Matthew 17:2). We saw it at the resurrection, when the light of new life conquered the darkness of death. And we'll see it at the end of time, when Jesus' head and hair will be "white as snow," and he'll shine as "the bright morning star" (Revelation 1:14; 22:16). We're not white-glass Christians, but as stained-grace Christians we are able to reflect and transmit the light of Christ as the seasons and light in our lives and in the world change, bringing to others a constantly changing and awe-inspiring revelation of who God is. Whether at morning, noon or night, or during sunlight or cloud, the light gets through in ever-changing magnificence. And the position of the Son in our lives is always crucial. That's stained-glass spirituality. Tiffany living.
Let us pray...........

Let me know what you think. The church Email is: SLUMC@att.net, Phone: 480.895.8766