The Transfiguration of Our Lord
2 Kings 2:1-12; Mark 9:2-9; II Corinthians 4:3-6
They had stopped by the church office earlier this week to check a calendar
date and to drop off an offering envelope. They were going to be gone this weekend.
“Oh,” I said, “where are you going?”
Her father smiled and said to his 5 year old daughter,“Tell Pastor Doug where we’re going.”
I watched as her eyes grew wide—a look of anticipation and excitement filled her face—one word came from her mouth, “Disney”
“First time?” I asked her father. He nodded. “Disney,” she said again and then added having been well coached, “It will be very special.”
Our lives are marked by special moments—sometimes anticipated and created by planning and preparation—sometimes taking us by surprise—but no less special. Our lessons for today are intended to remind us of the power of the special moment. In the Old Testament lesson the end of one prophetic ministry and the beginning of a second hinges on the glimpsing of a special moment of transition. A prophetic legacy will be shaped by the ability of the young prophet Elisha seeing the moment when God takes the aging prophet Elijah.
Then—in our Gospel lesson we encounter the text that names this day—this final Sunday of the Epiphany season—this Transfiguration Sunday—when Jesus takes three of his disciples to a mountain top experience that has become a pivotal text in the church year ending the time of celebration and hope begun in Advent—proclaimed at Christmas and echoed through the Epiphany light of Christ’s ministry of miracles and wonder. To anticipate seeing something special—like a trip to Disney for a five year old—like the tickets to a sold out concert—or box seats at the seventh game of the World Series—or the long awaited trip to Europe—or the reunion with an old friend or love. Today is a day for reflecting on the special times—special places—perfect moments that grow sweeter with time and memory. Memories like those that carried many a soldier through the difficult times of combat—memories that bridged the terrible pain of deathly illness recalling a place the was beyond pain and suffering—a place of transcending hope and promise.
Peter, James and John are led up the mountain to behold the transfiguration—this is an encounter with the holy. In simple poetic form we are told Jesus’ clothing became dazzling white and there appeared Elijah and Moses. The moment has no explanation and a million interpretations. Elijah, the greatest prophet of the Old Testament who was believed to portend the end of all time—the beginning of the Messianic age—the one awaited in each Passover celebration with Elijah’s cup and door being opened. And Moses—the great leader of Israel—the law giver who articulated the divine law of God for all time defining the relationships between God and humanity. The moment has no explanation and a million interpretations—a moment of awe and wonder. According to our Gospel text—the moment is so good that Peter proposes building permanent dwellings—shelters for each of the three who participate in this glorious gathering. Let’s just stay here forever. Let’s never go home again. Think of the places you have been in your life where you would have liked to have stayed—(and I’m thinking not just of your bed this morning). I remember a number of places where I said or thought—“Let’s just stay here—I wish this moment could last forever.” My list for the past few years reads like a travelogue—moments I remember in Bavaria, Oxford, Israel, Jamaica, Nags Head, Drummond Island, even Disney with the boys much younger. Of course I only remember a feeling or a moment in those places. A feeling or moment that makes me yearn to revisit the place—even dwell there.
What probably makes them so wonderful to my memory is that I did not stay there—they were not my dwelling place. The old adage comes to mind—that we never appreciate what we have until it is lost—but sometimes God gives us a second chance—and maybe more.
Last Sunday Trudy stood up at the end of the second service and thanked the congregation for its prayers and support. Her brain cancer following surgery and treatments appears for now to be gone—she shared with the congregation a glorious encounter—a truth touched her life—a truth about God’s grace and the power of friendship and the gift of life—it is a truth that she now lives but that for most of the rest of us passed but in a moment. Some have tried to retell the moment to others—but as the old saying goes—you had to be there—and even then it is unclear as to what should be said.
Holy moments are like that. We have begun the college search with son number three. Visiting campuses this past week I caught glimpses again and again of students engaged in study—engaged in discovering moments that took their minds (and sometimes I suspect their hearts) to places they had never considered possible. I walked past one room and looked in on students furiously taking notes in an attempt to capture the truths of the moment—trying to find someway to hold on to the meanings that were being presented. A good student does not study what they already know—the student looks to the future—reaches beyond themselves exploring that which has not yet become a part of their world or experience.
Peter wanted to stay with the familiar—to build shelters for the past—fortified dwellings for ancient prophets and old laws—to contain the divine in the familiar—to stay on the mountain top removed from the rest of the world. As a congregation it is easy to think about staying on the mountain top—to find comfortable centers for our faith.—to make proud declarations of “Look what we have done”—mountain top moments—like resettling Cambodian refugees—building and remodeling the church—balancing the budget and providing benevolence offerings—no risk needed—no venturing beyond that which we know we can afford in time and vision and dollars
But Jesus did not stay on the mountain. Oswald Chambers has observed that, “We are not built for the mountains—we are built for the valley, for the ordinary stuff we are in.” Our lesson really ends too soon—Jesus leads the three disciples back down the mountain to where the other disciples are waiting with quite a crowd—because there is an epileptic boy who needs to be healed—the glory and the power of God was needed in the real life moments of a father and his son.
So last weekend there were ventures here at Holy Spirit to raise funds and create community in new ways—multiple events—too many some thought. Stay with the familiar a few suggested—but a few risks were taken and moments of joy were discovered—and some great ministries received gifts of new hope. We are not built for the mountains. The wonder and awe of the transfiguration is not intended to be only a mountain top moment. After Peter has suggested staying on the mountain the very power and glory of God engulfs the disciples as a great cloud once more declaring Jesus to be His Son but then adding “Listen to him!”
Philip Toynbee has argued that the basic command of religion is not “Do this!” or “Do not do that” but simply “Look” “Listen.”Peter wants to do—to charge off and build something—make something happen—God says, “Wait”—Take time to listen.
At the Council retreat two weeks ago we were led through a process by facilitators from the national church intended to help the Mid-Size Congregation Grow (We are a mid-size congregation). There were lots of ideas and things to think about doing and implementing—but those gathered from our church were quick to recognize that we are already a very busy people—who love to be doing things. Probably the best discussion that took place centered not on programs we my explore but on prayer—the need to pause— to create quiet moments in our lives—our life as a congregation and church—to listen to and for the spirit—to let God speak—because that is what prayer is all about—not just our talking to God but God having room in our lives to speak to us. The glory of the Lord is intended to fill us with awe and wonder so that we will pause—to listen—to be encountered by our God.
The preacher Brett Younger notes that “A truly religious attitude is carefully paying attention to people and things in the process of learning to appreciate them. At the back of our brains and in the depths of our souls, there is a too-often forgotten sense of astonishment. The goal of the spiritual life is to live with wonder…. We don’t pay enough attention…. Most days, wonder is a luxury we do without.” The sun comes up and goes down and we never notice a sun rise or sun set—the moon and the stars pass us by. To be sure, we can’t force ourselves into a permanent state of awe. Try as we might we can’t build ourselves awe-filled dwellings—we can’t stay on the mountain even if we wanted to. The realities of the valley call us back. Try as we might the glimmers of glory slip past us. How we see the world depends on a hundred different things: on how we feel that day—how the people around us feel—whether the sun is shining or the rain is pouring down—whether we’ve had a good night or a sleepless one—and how life is treating us. Some days we’re doing well just to get through the day.
But in the shadow of the cloud there comes the voice, “This is my Son…Listen to him!” To pause—in that silent moment of prayerful meditation—to listen—to see—to sense a hint of the holy in the sudden brilliance of the sun striking a tree or glimpsing the enticing swirl of cream poured into a cup of coffee. The world is sacramental and creation is marked with the signature of the creator. The holy was revealed in the familiar forms—for the disciples on the mountain it was the ancient familiar words of the prophet and the law of Moses. For each of us it takes other forms—equally familiar yet promising glimpses of something beyond the ordinary—something holy. Listen. Look. It may not be Mozart but Dave Matthews—It may not be Monet but a Zits comic strip—It is that which opens our eyes—that which produces joy and makes us see the world a little better.
Today is about wonder—The wonder of God’s world. I did a quick search of facts that might cause wonder, and the inescapable conclusion I came to is that the greatest wonder of all is us—ourselves. A moment of wonder for me—when Hyea Young strikes a middle C key on the piano this morning the piston of bones in my inner ear vibrates exactly 256 times a second—actually every ear in the room—256 vibrations per second—and that is just one note—that becomes music that—well, beyond words. Or consider—each day each of us thinks about 50,000 different thoughts—makes my mind tired just to think about that. When you flex your hand you are using seventy different muscles—without thinking about it. Wonder—awe—holy—The mystery of life—the miracle of love.
The cloud envelops us—holiness surrounds us—God speaks—Listen. Look. Transfiguration Sunday ends the Epiphany season. The Holy has been revealed. Wonder has entered our world. We journey now into Lent. Soon we will see something truly amazing—a cross—Soon we will hear the words—“This is my body…This is my blood… Given for you” Here in the valleys of life the holy comes to us once more—Do you see it?—Do you hear it?—Can you taste it?—Touch it? Glory. Wonder. Awe.
She said “Disney” and I prayed that the wonder in her eyes would last long after the Mouse was but a memory.
Amen.