Exodus 34:29-35; Psalm 99; Luke 9:28-36; 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2
Moses has evidently got a very bad attack of the love of God. When he comes back down Mount Sinai from talking with God, who has given him the tablets containing the Ten Commandments, his face shines with God's reflected light. Not surprisingly, everyone else is a bit wary of him. Might God's light be dangerous to them, if they get too close to it? Better to have Moses cover up his face when he's been too near God, just in case.
Maybe we can sympathise with the Israelites' caution. After all, if you get religion too badly, like love, it might make you do strange things. You could get the urge to become a missionary, or to preach on street corners, or to do something else enthusiastic and un-British. Much better to express our love for God as we do the rest of our emotions: cautiously and with reserve.
Of course, this is partly a matter of what is culturally acceptable, which will vary from society to society. The exuberant touchy-feely friendliness of Texans and the polite understated greeting of Edinburgh folk, though poles apart in expression, may be equally heartfelt and sincere. Yet we might wonder to what extent love that remains unstated is love at all; I would not envy a child brought up with all its material needs met but with no experience of hugs or pet names. At the other extreme, of course, a fiery love of God combined with intolerance of other viewpoints can lead to the terrible conclusion of people killing in God's name, supposedly out of love for God.
Yet enthusiasts can draw us with them into their own enthusiasms, enriching and widening our own experience. Ardent gardeners or naturalists can show us beauty of which we would remain unaware without their passionate desire to communicate. People who love art or music, sport or science can share their passion with us; and such enthusiasm is often infectious. If you have been blessed with paid work which you loved as well as which paid your bills, I'd not be surprised to find that someone else's enthusiasm, whether teacher, friend or family member, sparked your own at a crucial moment in your life. And each of us is in a position to share our own enthusiasm for God in this way.
Of course, this is dangerous for us. We may find, like Moses, that others are wary of our faith commitment, fearing we will try to compel them to see things our way. Yet more often, I suspect, when we show our interest in God, families, neighbours or colleagues may rather be intrigued; interested in finding out more about our position, and in sharing their own thoughts.
There is, however, another danger which we run, once we pluck up the courage to express, however simply, our own faith position; and it is this: that we may become possessive in our love for God, tempted to disrespect someone else's view in comparison. As great a Christian as Paul falls into this trap in the reading from his second letter to Corinth which we've heard this morning. As you know, Paul comes from a Jewish background. Now he has seen in Jesus the Messiah for whom the Jewish people wait; yet not all his fellow Jews have taken that step. And because Paul has found in Jesus the hope of God's covenant of love with Israel finally being fulfilled, in comparison he understands the Jewish hope and the Jewish love of God as inferior to those of the Christian. Paul picks up the image of Moses with his face glowing but veiled when he has been with God, and interprets it the other way around. Because the Jewish people do not accept God in Jesus, he argues, God has veiled their minds so they can no longer see the glory of God shining in him.
From the Christian point of view this can sound convincing, and even make us feel rather smug. We have understood and accepted from the Jewish tradition what they have misunderstood and rejected. When, however, exactly the same argument is put by Muslims, who argue that in comparison with them, we Christians do not understand our own scriptures correctly, I can tell you it feels much less comfortable. While it is tempting to try to show how good our faith position is by downgrading those of others, it is not the way of truth or of love. We do not make Jesus' glory shine more brightly by trying to demolish those who see things differently; think again of Richard Dawkins' disservice done to atheism by the vehemence with which he attacks anyone and everyone who dares to admit that faith might make sense.
But if we were to talk about our faith, about praying or reading the Bible or working for others because we love God, isn't that just blowing our own trumpets, showing off, trying to persuade others how wonderful we are? Wouldn't we do better just to get on with doing the things our faith leads us to do, without all this embarrassing talking? Especially if we may not be too sure what the right words to use might be?
Certainly I'd agree that talking about faith without living it is worse than useless - and that's a temptation ministers are dangerously apt to fall into! I'd also agree that the way we live our lives can say a lot more about what we believe than the words we use. How we spend and invest our money, how we prioritise our time, how we treat people tells others much more about what we really believe than if we just spout the official right answers.
Yet words are important too for enthusiasm to be shared. If new Scots in Sheffield don't know which of their friends and colleagues hold their Scottish identity dear, they won't find out the Caledonian Society exists, and within a generation it will die out. If we let the veil of British reserve stop us from saying anything to others about the importance faith holds for us, we stop them finding out how true it could be for them too.
And our words don't have to be academic jargon to do the job properly. For Jesus wasn't an academic. He told stories: about plants growing, about food cooking, about families living together and falling out. He cared about people who were lost and left out and lonely. He looked at people's hearts, not their bank balances, to see what was worthwhile. And what's in people's hearts now concerns him just as much as it did then.
It's all there in the New Testament; but I bet it's there in your memories too. You'll have favourite Bible stories, that have meant a lot to you since childhood, or since you first came into a church, that remind you of what's important about your faith. And reflecting on your life in the light of those stories, sharing what you've thought, may be just the spark of enthusiasm needed for someone else to start to make sense of their lives by the light of God's love in Jesus.