"What Happened Next Will Amaze You" Sermon for Transfiguration Sunday

The Last Sunday after the Epiphany - February 27th, 2022

Psalm 99; Exodus 34:29-35; 2 Corinthians 3:12 - 4:2; Luke 9:28-36
 

Yasuo Nakajima considered himself an interesting person. A former competitive bodybuilder with an extensive knowledge of insects and plants, his main passion these days is his three Yamaha motorcycles, which he repairs in his living room and rides around the Japanese countryside for weeks at a time.

Thus, when the divorced father of three had been posting about his adventures on Twitter for months and had only netted six followers, he was disappointed. “No-one wants to read what a middle-aged man posts,” he later told interviewers on a TV variety show.

It was thus that Soya was born. Having seen his kids playing with the appearance-altering FaceApp on their phones, Nakajima—with a few taps—transformed himself into an attractive young woman. He created a new Twitter handle—a mash-up of his kids’ names—and began posting as his new persona. Soya did all the things Yasuo did… repaired the bikes, posed at scenic overlooks, talked about life. When he was frustrated, it showed in her normally-beaming face.

Unsurprisingly, Soya’s posts were far more popular than Yasuo’s had been. Before long, she had thousands of followers, and Yasuo began adjusting his real-life appearance to make the ruse more effective, growing out his hair and experimenting with skin care treatments to help the app do its job. Soya’s manner of speech—though sprinkled with emojis —was largely a product of Yasuo’s own personality, and over time his two identities grew closer together. “When I compare how I feel when I started to tweet as a woman and now, I do feel that I’m gradually gravitating toward this persona … this fantasy world that I created,” Nakajima told the Washington Post. “When I see photos of what I tweeted, I feel like, ‘Oh. That’s me.’ ”

What began more or less as a gag was hard to turn off when each post was rewarded with so much positive attention. Over time he allowed more of himself to imbue Soya’s persona, and hers into his. He is far from the first person to experience what Stanford University researchers call the Proteus Effect, where the drivers of virtual-reality characters, or avatars, start to adopt qualities of their creation as if they were their own.  

In the Internet’s early, text-only days, it was possible to reinvent oneself completely and thus escape the expectations that match your real-life age, gender, and appearance. Few people used their real names on message boards. Victims of bullying and abuse found a safe forum to escape their isolation. Virtual-reality platforms like SecondLife allowed users living with disabilities or insecurities to create characters who look however they wish, free from stigma or baggage. And many of them started to “own” those idealized characteristics to some degree.

It wasn’t until the advent of smart phones and social media platforms like Facebook that real-life identity checks became the norm, in large part so they can assert control over your wallet. And in the age of the “selfie”, it would be difficult to keep up a fake persona for long.

Until now. Advances in image-altering filters like the one Yasuo used, which can respond in real time to  every nuance of your expression, are making it possible for any smart phone user to create still images or even video with an idealized or distorted version of ones’ self (or someone else) that many others will unquestioningly accept as real. Researchers are eyeing this with fear that blurring the lines between fantasy and reality will have damaging effects on our culture’s standards of beauty, and with it our collective sense of self-worth. Child psychologists are already worried about the effect this is having, particularly on young women and girls. Some "deepfake" influencers, as they are known, have been exposed with side-by-side photos of their true, less-perfect selves. It could also have profound political or legal implications if we can no longer assume that a video of a politician speaking about foreign policy is really and truly that person saying those words.  

Once Soya’s popularity had taken off, Yasuo’s debated what backlash there might be if he was “outed” especially how his kids might react. Our choices—even when they’re good ones for us—can have a real impact on the people who know us, or think they do. As we heard in the reading from Exodus as well as Luke’s Gospel, humans generally crave predictability. We expect those in our lives to be the people they have always been. When someone close to us reveals that they have been carrying a secret or that they are changing the trajectory of their life in a way that does not match our image of them, we can find it disconcerting and don’t know how to react. We may find ourselves like Peter, babbling about construction projects in a misguided show of support, but more often find ourselves wanting to bury our heads in the sand like the Israelites around Moses, rather than cope with the cousin who wants to be called by a new name or referred to with pronouns we don’t know how to pronounce.

The transgender people I worked with at Integrity and the OASIS all asserted they did not “become” the other gender when they transitioned. They were always that person; they were just finally allowed to fully be that person in the world. In other words, they were not putting on a mask; they were finally taking it off. That insight helped me relate a little better to what the apostles, including His own siblings, must have felt when Jesus told them, “I am still the man you have known all this time. But I am also, and always have been, God.” and also His heartache when time and time again they—and we—don’t get it.

For his part, Yasuo does not identify as transgender, nor did he try to gain any reward through his deception, a practice called catfishing. But he realized last spring that fans were starting to realize there was more to Soya than met the eye. Perhaps unconsciously, he had allowed glimpses of his unaltered body and mannerisms to slip into her world. After struggling with the possible consequences for a while, finally one night he posted an image on her account of a motorcycle with his unaltered face visible in the mirrors.

To his amazement, his fans by and large took the revelation in stride. Beyond the flurry of media attention to the technical novelty of his “creation”, people, including his own kids, seemed to understand that Soya—though not a real person—is authentically part of who Yasuo is. While he may have masked himself in a way that was more likely to get us to notice, the stories he shared were his own, and the number of people following Soya’s adventures continues to grow.

I am not suggesting there was anything particularly admirable about the path Yasuo took, but as someone of similar vintage who spends probably too much time online, I do understand his motivation. The social internet is clearly ruled by the young and the genetically gifted. I may think my long-winded stories are interesting, my dad jokes are funny and my pictures are pretty, but the algorithm apparently disagrees and saves opportunities to be seen—called impressions—for the more-sought-after demographic, leaving me with the digital crickets, scrolling through the carefully curated versions of their lives that the beautiful people deign to share. So I can look at another guy’s long-haired midlife crisis with some empathy.

I think the take-away here is not so much what Yasuo did or why, but how the public responded when he came clean. Each of us faces the choice of how to react when those we love reveal layers of themselves—be they dreams or shortcomings or simple, hard truths. Maybe we would inwardly prefer that they continue to masking these aspects of themselves, at least when there’s company, while Grandma’s alive, in front of the neighbors. However—as Paul said—isn’t it us, then, who stubbornly keep putting on a veil, over our minds?

God—who sees past any filters we can dream up—thinks we can do better.  As Paul told the Corinthians, “All of us, with unveiled faces, are seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, and are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another.”

Let us pray and strive to bring about the realm of heaven right here… that we might all have the grace to welcome and listen to even those whose choices or ideas challenge us… maybe even especially them. That this can and will be a place where no masks—physical or metaphorical—are needed, so that all who enter can feel seen and heard and safe and loved… just as they are.

Church Communicators Serve Up Food for Thought

This is an article I submitted for the Evangel, our congregation's newsletter.  It was published in abridged form there, but I wanted to share the whole thing.

If your church disappeared tomorrow, would your community notice?

That provocative question set the tone for a lively and thought-provoking workshop led by JIM NAUGHTON and REBECCA WILSON, who make their living helping churches communicate better as the principals of Canticle Communications and co-authors of Speaking Faithfully: Communications as Evangelism in a Noisy World. Jim is also the founder of The Episcopal Cafe, a news blog.

The workshop, organized by NINA NICHOLSON Diocesan Director of Communications and Technology, gave congregations an opportunity to not only get better at using social media and other tools, but also to understand what kind of messages they are putting out in the world, and what might actually generate interest among their neighbors.

I attended the workshop as part of a team who will be collaborating on multiple aspects of communications at St. John’s, including the website, the bulletin, our presence in social media, and the Evangel.

The event started off on a sobering note as both leaders described the seemingly difficult climate in which the church finds itself. As Pew research reveals, increasing numbers of people are identifying with no faith and even embracing atheism. A number of high-profile scandals involving clergy and the perception of religious leaders as too judgmental and too political have not helped. “Our world thinks it knows what Christians are up to, and is disinterested or even hostile,” Naughton explained. He continued with a question: “What do you have that is attractive enough to break people's habits, behavior, and thinking?”

Episcopal churches have a tendency to use “insider language” that we expect people to know. This suggests to those who see and hear unfamiliar terms that a church might be an exclusionary club, and not for them. In an increasingly secular world, even spiritual messages should not make assumptions about the reader’s understanding of what church life is like, or even what the Bible says.

Mainline protestants in general have a tendency to “play it safe” and shy away from the edgy or controversial. On this, Wilson reminds us, “We have a savior who made people so angry that they killed him.” I was reminded of the few times St. John’s entered my consciousness prior to our joining. Each involved an incident where the parish had taken a stance on a social justice issue that led to some conflict. While there is always room for growth in how we respond to situations like this, in aggregate they served to tell me that this was a place that did not back away from its Gospel calling in the face of resistance. That was a strong factor in my decision to consider St. John’s as a new spiritual home for Jeffrey and me.

Naughton argues that the majority of “prime real estate” on web sites should be targeted at prospective visitors and newcomers, with parish business taking a back seat. “Jesus did not preach the Sermon on the Mount about the acolyte schedule,” he reminded. Those looking for a spiritual home want to be challenged inspired, and possibly redeemed. Their first instinct will not be to attend a meeting, and -- while schedules and calendars are important -- most transformative moments are unplanned. An effective menu system can get viewers who are looking for business information to what they need.

Since Andrew’s departure, parishioners have been taking turns writing reflections for the cover of the service leaflet. These narratives, many in the first person, are exactly the kind of content Naughton and Wilson believe has the power to engage people. We are generally shy and feel ill-equipped to evangelize to others, but Naughton and Wilson believe that what will reach them is “your story of what God is doing in your life, and you already know about that.”

Expanding on the topic of audience, Naughton and Wilson pointed out that many people drive past multiple churches -- even Episcopal churches -- to get to the one they attend. He challenged us to understand who lives around us, what do they care about and pay attention to? Are we gracefully inserting ourselves into the places where they are? What about their lives is hard, and could benefit from an understanding faith community?

We have done a little of this with projects like Ashes to Go, where you gently present an opportunity for “church” to those who don’t have the time or inclination to visit the building. This summer, St. Luke’s is offering Worship Without Walls, a “flash-mob” style evening service at a different outdoor location each Sunday. People seem generally surprised and pleased by these no-strings efforts to reach them where they are.

SUSAN DUNN, PATTY DREHER and I did some brainstorming about more ways to “get out there.” What could we offer regular commuters from Walnut Street, with the stresses and anxiety that the business world brings? What about those who have lost their job?

How could we become a part of community events like the Farmer’s Market? In June, a small group of us attended a service at St. Lydia’s, a growing “dinner church” that is affiliated with both the Lutheran Synod of New York and the Episcopal Diocese of Long Island. I learned in passing that the sister of one of the farmers at the market is an Episcopal priest. What if we partnered with his farm to offer a locally sourced meal intertwined with worship?

These are just a few ideas, out of countless possibilities. Naughton pointed out other community events, like Thanksgiving, Memorial Day or Veteran’s Day, that are not religious holidays but are often opportunities to creatively reach the community, waiting to be claimed. What could we offer which might become a new Montclair tradition?

I left the workshop feeling that we are doing many things right, and there are many things that we could improve upon to reach those around us and get to know each other and ourselves better. As we continue our “adventure” I hope many of you will bring forward your gifts and talents to help us to authentically tell St. John’s story in a way that inspires growth, both by bringing new people to our midst, and building our understanding, love and commitment for one another.