The heavens herald your glory, O God. Glory, it is one of those words we don’t use often in every day speech though I do have a friend who regularly says “Good glory” as an exclamation. And there is the Battle Hymn of the Republic, now mostly sung as a parody – “Glory, glory hallelujah.” “Revealing Glory” is not a title I would have chosen for a sermon some years ago. But here we are, on our third Sunday in our “Season of Creation” series, revealing glory.

During the pandemic, a small group of us gathered online for prayer, two mornings a week. We mostly used the Celtic prayer books of John Philip Newell. Glory popped up in prayers and scriptures often.

From Psalm 26:8

I love the place where your glory abides.

And from Isaiah 6:3

The whole earth is full of your glory.

We prayed this together –

Glory be to you O God

for the rising of the sun,

for color filling the skies.

Glory be to you

for the beauty of your image

waking in opening eyes,

lighting the human countenance.

As we prayed together, I would read these prayers and scriptures aloud, in a contemplative and reverent way, but I wasn’t quite sure what inflection one uses for glory.

Glory, glory glory, for the grace of new beginnings in every moment of life. (another prayer)

One morning we had this prayer, where glory came a little closer to earth and it started to make more sense. I invite you to breathe deeply with me and pray this morning prayer.

That your glory rises in the morning sun

and sparkles off flowing waters,

that the glory of the everlasting world

shines in this world,

growing from the ground

and issuing forth in every creature,

that glory can be handled, seen and known

in the matter of earth and human relationships

and the most ordinary matters of daily life,

assure me again this day O God,

assure me again this day.

(that the glory of the everlasting world

shines in this world. Amen)

During the pandemic, Eric and I took our bikes to the Grand Canyon of PA. We rode for miles on the marvelous rail trail along Pine Creek. The weather was pristine that July day, not too hot, not too humid. The trees along the path cast beautifully defined shadows. I rode out of the shadows and into the sun, and blurted out “Glory. Glory. Glory.” I suddenly knew how to shout glory, what inflection it deserves.

In that moment of beauty under the trees, and then in the sun, along the water, below the steep canyon walls, with the wind on my face, glory was defined, was apparent. Praying earnestly at my dining room table did not help me understand glory, did not reveal glory. I had to see how the earth and sky cry glory:

how without speech, without words,

without even an audible voice,

their cries echo through all the world,

and their messages reach the ends of the earth.

Glory is not a thought. Glory must be experienced as a crisp breeze, a vivid green, a whiff of magnolia, a sunset that takes your breath away. Glory is revealed more than it is explained or defined. Sort of like the Holy is revealed more than explained or defined.

Could this be part of what the baffling story of Jesus at the wedding is about, revealing glory? I often skip right over it but the gospel text says it right there, at the end of the scene: in this way he revealed his glory and the disciples believed in him.

 This wedding miracle, the water turning to wine, does not appear in the other gospels. It might be a stretch but is the writer of John’s gospel pointing us back to the Psalm 19, to associate Jesus with the glory of the heavens?          

For in the heavens the sun has pitched a tent.

It comes forth with the grandeur of a wedding                                                                       

procession…

In the coming together of three disparate parts of nature – the huge ceremonial stone jars, fresh water and Jesus – in these three, glory is revealed. The stone jars and the water – like the skies, in the psalm, have no voice, have no words. Jesus has a voice and he uses it. “Fill those six jars with water,” and the servers fill them to the brim. “Now, draw some out and take it to the caterer.”

At this wedding celebration, Jesus’ glory is revealed. No one knows how this happens, (though we are told that Jesus’ mother Mary has an inkling that Jesus will be able to save the host family from this wedding faux pas of running out of wine.) Jesus doesn’t tell anyone what has happened, how there is suddenly more fine wine than the gathering can even drink. Only the people who pour the water into the stone jars know – and they stay quiet as the morning sun. It is like the skies without words, without even an audible voice. It is the subtle aroma and surprising taste that reveal Jesus’ glory.

This mysterious event helps us see that Jesus, like glory, is to be experienced, not just thought about. Like glory, we will understand Jesus more if we experience him, step out and live into his life and teachings, not just read about them at our dining room tables.

Two weeks ago we worshiped outside, near the back swamp. We experienced what is hard to put into words: the spritz of raindrops, the rustle of leaves, the invitation of the wood chip path, passing by the pokeweed and obedience plants. These were new revelations in this outdoor space for many of us.

What is revealed, what revelations do we experience when we sit in a building? How can we cry glory from our pews? We might catch glimpses of the created world through these high windows – sky, trees, clouds, rain (blessed rain) maybe a bird or a squirrel. And we might notice how Christianity has historically brought pieces of creation inside the walls of the church, perhaps to help us connect with the earth – or maybe to dissect, declassify and demystify the holiness of Creation.

We have the water of baptism. We have the fire of the peace lamp. We have the air – wind and breath of singing. We have the earth – bread and juice for communion. The earth, air, fire and water – these are gifts that are accessible to anyone – when there is not greed or drought. But over the generations, Christianity has codified and commodified these so that they have a particular meaning in the church, for the church. Do these parts of creation still reveal God? Is there any glory left in the breath, the water, the fire, the bread?

As Christians, meeting inside these walls, it is easy to try and domesticate these small pieces of nature, the water and bread, fire and wind. We try to define them, imbue them with meaning, maybe even take charge of them. But what if we are not the only ones that want meaning. The whole creation longs with eager expectation. When we define the bread, water, breath and flame apart from creation, we begin to disconnect them from the Sacred, from God. How close then are we to disconnecting ourselves from the Sacred, from God?

We hosted the Apache Stronghold on Tuesday evening. About 125 people from around the country, Apache and other tribes, as well as settlers (non-natives) gathered in this space. The Spirit was here, alive in the drumming and singing, in the prophetic words, in the pain that was spoken, in the longings for connection. Several people remarked that they were surprised to be in a church, even allowed to be here. One man wondered aloud if he would be struck down for being in church.

The Apache and other indigenous groups have too often been told that they needed to be saved from their own religion, removed from the land – which itself is their sacred shrine. (Indeed this is the case they came to defend at the Supreme Court. Is it permissible for Oak Flat to be torn apart by foreign corporations extracting copper? Or is the sacred land of Oak Flat a religious “cathedral” that must be preserved so they can practice their religion?) For hundreds of years Christians have told the people who first lived on this continent, on Turtle Island, that who they are as created beings and how they worship is not acceptable to God. It certainly is not acceptable in the four walls of the church that claims Jesus as Lord.

The church often demands that indigenous people deny what they know. They must leave all of the glory and revelation that they know from their experience, that they know in their bodies, that they know from the earth and skies, without words, the church demands that they leave it outside. “It cannot come inside these sacred walls.” And when that hasn’t worked, violence has been used to try and remove indigenous religion from their bodies and souls so that “true” religion can be instilled.

How far have we strayed when we forget (or refuse to see) that God’s glory is revealed in creation? How far have we strayed from our own biblical tradition when we can find no room for God to be revealed through the parts of creation that speak without words? How far have we strayed when we decry the very bodies that are part of creation? Wasn’t Jesus a body, created and birthed amidst the creatures? Wasn’t God revealed through the body of Jesus? Isn’t God still revealed through bodies?

(I am still learning about revealing glory, how God is revealed, even within our Christian tradition. No doubt many of you understand all of this in your bones more than I do. I hope we can keep learning and growing together.)

My Friends, Consider that the sufferings of our present times are not as weighty
as the lingering presence, the glory of the Sacred, that will be fully revealed in us all.
The whole creation longs with eager expectation for this unveiling, the revealing of the human, beloved ones.

(Romans 8:18-19)

Creation longs with eager expectation for us, the human beloved ones, to find our place in creation. When we seek and find our place, our connection to creation, we will find God’s glory revealed. This is our hope. This is our prayer. I invite you to breathe deep – and exhale. Close your eyes and imagine  – or open your eyes and look out to the sky as we pray.

That your glory rises in the morning sun

and sparkles off flowing waters,

that the glory of the everlasting world

shines in this world,

growing from the ground

and issuing forth in every creature,

that glory can be handled, seen and known

in the matter of earth and human relationships

and the most ordinary matters of daily life,

assure me again this day O God,

assure me again this day

(that the glory of the everlasting world

is revealed in this world. Amen)

from Sounds of the Eternal, John Philip Newell