All eyes fixed on one moment—In our modern world that is not such an unbelievable possibility—with satellite relays and internet streaming—the more important the event, the more likely it is being presented on a global stage—whether tragedy or triumph, the moment can be known. Hundreds of millions of people focused on the meaning that can be derived from a certain moment of time—the events—the story. It happened again this week—Friday evening to be exact—Out of the darkness of the Utah night comes a child carrying a light and the allegory begins. The real stories, of course, are found in the athletes gathered for the 19th Winter Olympiad of modern times—in the midst of the politics of terror and unrest—the personal stories of dedication—sacrifice—perseverance—good fortune and bad luck will be told again and again in the coming days.
Few who are within range of any form of modern communication will be able to ignore the vision that the games begin to weave as the days pass. There will be almost magical moments that capture the imagination and in some cases inspire another generation to strive for something that is almost beyond the realm of the possible. We need the visions of things that challenge us to be more—to recognize qualities of the human spirit that lift us beyond the ordinary. Such moments are not easily anticipated or planned—they come to us in unexpected forms and ways. The unexpected moments—or at least events that have far more meaning then anyone could have anticipated before that moment.
Our Gospel text for today is the story of the Transfiguration. There are some stories in the Bible that are more difficult to understand than others—stories that are commonly greeted more by question marks—and the question “What does that mean?” The story of the transfiguration is that kind of story.—the account of Jesus going to a high mountain, and taking with him Peter and James and John—his inner circle—is one of those stories cloaked in mystery and uncertainty. All we can do is probe around the edge—aware that we will probably never penetrate the core—yet there is something about this text that captures the imagination. In much the same way as the opening ceremonies of the Winter Olympics—were a weaving of images that bring past to present and yet are cloaked in forms more dream like than real—much of the appeal is the unexpectedness of it all—so the transfiguration. Most church members do not pay all that much attention to the liturgical calendar—that cycle of church festivals that determine our lessons and the types of music we will be singing and hearing. The greatest attention most people pay to the church year cycle is to anticipate Christmas drawing near and to try to keep track of when Easter will fall this year.
As a quick reminder of the liturgical year so far—Christmas brought Christ into the world and the Sundays of Epiphany that followed Christmas focused on the revelation of Christ to the world in words and deeds—the definitive experience of revelation that Jesus is the Christ—prior to the resurrection—is usually identified as the story of the Transfiguration—today’s festival. That mystical adventure on a mountain top when the prophets of old—the Jesus of the present—and the God of the future met before the eyes of a few selected disciples. From this moment on in the Bible Jesus sets his face for Jerusalem. Our attention now also shifts to the journey of Lent. We are no longer concerned about miracles or manifestations. For the next 40 days everything points to the Cross. The transfiguration is a fore taste of things to come—an anticipation of the resurrection appearances that will equally bewilder and mystify those who encounter the risen Christ. There are moments that change the way you see life—that may change the way we understand the meaning of our lives. As a people we may well become known as the generation that was redefined by one moment. Certainly many parts of our lives and the world around us have been changed because of a September moment—many of the patterns of life and the expectations of life have been redefined. For some their career options and business choices were challenged if not changed. For some relationships became more important than possessions and things. The verdict is still out on whether the majority of us will also find our values and priorities experiencing similar redefinition. Will the spiritual find new importance as part of the wholeness of life? A lot depends on what we see and how we interpret the things we experience—our perspective on our faith and lives.
Perspective—our view—our vantage point. If I were to ask you to name
your favorite view of the city—what would you answer? I love the view of
the city on a summer day looking south from Montrose Harbor. I also find that
the view from the planetarium has much to recommend it—and then there is
the inevitable debate between the Sears Tower Observation Deck and that of the
Hancock—but some would say the best view of the city is in the midst the
crowd around noon time at State and Madison. The view of a great city is many
and varied. Even more challenging is trying to decide on a perspective from
which to view God. That is very much what the Bible is all about—attempts
to give us different views of God. Some of the stories keep God at a great distance—like
the story of creation where God is God—cosmic and beyond—but other
moments are more experiential and intimate. Like the reading of the Psalms or
the struggles of a faithful believer like Job. And in the New Testament our
approaches to Jesus usually begin in miracle stories—Jesus walking on the
water—feeding 5000—stilling the storm—healing the sick—rising
from the dead. To find a perspective from which to view the divine—to encounter
and, often to our surprise, be encountered by God—but then how do you preserve
it—how do we pass it on to others? The way most of us encounter the Bible—our
faith—our God—is by taking snap shots of the holy. We try to freeze
frame the encounter. But freezing a moment in time always loses something—especially
when we try to explain it or try to find a way to recreate it. A big ship full
of animals sounds like a child’s toy or a picture for the nursery wall
rather than a miraculous moment of deliverance by the hand of God. A picture
of Jesus walking on the water causes not so much wonder as curiosity about how
he knew where the rocks were to stand on. Some encounters are simply too experiential—you
had to be there.
During the opening ceremonies to the Winter Olympics Friday evening, President Bush was positioned in the midst of the US athletes to make the formal announcement as host nation that the Olympiad was now begun. Following that announcement the young people around the President were all greeting him and shaking his hand—none of the young people had anticipated this great opportunity—many clearly did not know what to say or do around him—but the television cameras captured one very delightful moment where Sasha Cohen—one of the athletes—handed the President her cell phone. The television commentator could only guess the truth—that the young lady had called her mother to tell them what was happening—who she as standing next to—and then in a moment of serendipitous spontaneity she handed the President her cell phone so that he might say hello to her mother—and the President took the phone.
When we are encountered by the unexpected we are
challenged to have the grace to respond—grace to respond in ways that keep
us open to where God might lead us next.—to accept the opportunity as possibly
more real and meaningful than our own plans. But we have a tendency to want
to freeze such moments—to define them to fit our plans or needs or wants
rather than letting the moment give new meaning to our lives—our values—our
faith. Throughout the history of faith and religion humanity has struggled to
find the words and the pictures
to express the encounter with the divine—holy moments we call them—not
surprisingly most such early encounters were usually shrouded in cloud—often
with special effects of bright lights—lightning maybe—and plenty of
sound effects—thunder if not the very voice of God—which sounds a
lot like thunder. Our first lesson for today from the Old Testament presents
one of the most significant encounters with God in the entire Old Testament.
Moses receiving the ten commandments. In a very real sense this is perhaps how
most of us first encounter God—not on Mt. Sinai but certainly in the commandments—in
our earliest years we are given the oughts and noughts of the faith—the
rights and wrongs—goods and evils. God becomes a great parent ruling our
lives—setting the limits of our behavior—God is viewed as the source
of judgement—protecting us by demands and punishment—if not a great
traffic cop of the universe, then the supreme judge who will declare our guilt
in the end. This was the expectation of the disciples as they went up the mountain
with Jesus. Jesus stood in the great tradition of the faith of Israel that was
based in the law revealed by God to Mose.s But by the time of Jesus, the ten
commandments had been reworked into 613 laws to live by. Jesus brought new commandments
of love to the people of the law—Jesus brought new perspectives to the
law and tried to lead the people out of the bondage to guilt and tradition—a
new exodus was begun—a journey to encounter God not by law but by grace.
The transfiguration was a mountaintop experience with a new perspective on the God of the law. In addition, the disciples on the mountain with Jesus knew that after Moses there came the prophets—and greatest of all prophets was Elijah—Elijah was the messianic prophet—even to this day in the Seder meal—the pasche—there comes a time when the Elijah cup is filled and the door is opened. Elijah was the prophet of all fulfillment expected to bring in the day of Yahweh. Elijah the prophet is definitely the one who would give the feeling that it is indeed good to be here. Peter struggles with the moment—trying to find some way to give meaning to the moment—permanent meaning—preserve this moment for all posterity—if only he had a camera—or a cell phone—what do you say—what can you do? Peter’s response is all too human—let us build something—shelters for the faith—permanent shrines to this place and moment—if not plaques to mark the place—then something solid to shelter the faith—we still do that today—it is the process of institutionalization—it is the power of tradition—the place of precedent.
The mountaintop experience provides a new perspective on God—there comes a cloud—and a voice—the special effects with a fog machine and microphone—Jesus is named by the great voice of God as “beloved Son”—but the moment passes the disciples find that He—Jesus—is standing alone—there is nothing left—just a memory—or was it a dream Yet there stands Jesus—now what? A favorite story of mine is that of a pastor who was working late one evening on his sermon when he happened to glance out the window and saw Jesus looking in—the minister grew very nervous not knowing what might be expected of him—not knowing what else to do he called his bishop and said, “Jesus is at my window watching me—what should I do?” There was a brief pause and then the bishop replied “Look busy.”
Often with our faith we like to look busy—when times get tough we get religious—when crises comes we are busy with prayer—we want to do something for God—and if not for God then for others as proof to God that we are busy with our faith. In this community it is so easy to be busy—I have been told many times by people that they really would like to be at worship but their days are so busy that Sunday is their only time to rest—there are those who are tired—depressed—stressed—but assume that a good person—a good parent—keeps busy. Faith on the mountain reflects upon itself—this last Sunday of Epiphany takes us to the mountain—the transfiguration we call it.
We have come now to the end of the Epiphany season. This Wednesday we begin the journey of Lent—a time for new encounters with God—a time for looking at the faith—reflection on our faith—our time—our priorities. The mountain top encounter with God provides a new perspective a different view—not just of God but of all creation—and most of all of Jesus—we are busy with the callings of our faith—the using of our gifts and talents from God—we may be as busy as we were before the mountaintop moment—but the perspective has changed. Even in the expected moments—places—and forms we can be surprised by grace—here in this bread and wine we have met our Lord—here grace is given substance—shape—meaning. A transfigured moment revealed to millions but most important—revealed to you and me.
Amen.