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The Rev. Carol S. Wedell
February 22, 2009
I have a very clear memory of Mark's and my second date. (Actually, I remember the first one too, but it doesn't relate to our readings today!). We went to see David Copperfield at the historic Embassy Theater in Fort Wayne, Indiana, where both of us lived. I don't think I really knew then who David Copperfield was, but since that night nearly 20 years ago, I haven't forgotten!
David Copperfield is what we used to call a "magician," and what is now called an "illusionist." That is, he create illusions that leave the audience scratching their head and trying to figure how on earth he just did what you thought you saw him do. Supposedly his techniques could be figured out, but I have to tell you that he is very good. He doesn't just pull rabbits out of hats, or scarves out of sleeves. No, Copperfield is much more sophisticated than that. The show began with Copperfield appearing on stage on a motorcycle, literally out of thin air. And it only got more incredible from there. His illusions defy explanation. You really had to be there to understand how amazing they were.
I'm guessing that there are others here this morning that have had experiences that words simply could not explain. (Anyone want to take a stab at using words to explain such an event?) Sometimes even the recipient of such an experience is hard-pressed to explain exactly what happened. You really do have to be there to "get it.".
Both of our readings this morning fall into the "you had to be there" category. To say that these are challenging texts is an understatement. Special effects worthy of the most creative filmmakers, divine appearances, whirlwinds, voices from heaven are just a part of the mysterious nature of these two powerful stories. The Gospel reading is a very strange passage indeed, one that just doesn't quite seem to fit with what Jesus has been doing so far. There is Jesus in the midst of his busy ministry, teaching and healing, and suddenly he is up there on the mountain and this strange scene unfolds, with his face and his clothes shining like the sun, and these figures from ancient history, Moses and Elijah appearing. And the disciples, Peter, James and John are overcome - terrified. Then, just as suddenly, it's all over and the three move down the mountain and back to "normal" life - if such a thing exists. So what on earth is this all about? What an odd story! What's a logical, thinking, left-brained Presbyterian to do?
Susan Andrews, (to whom I owe a great debt for her insights on this passage and wonderful way with words) former moderator of the PCUSA says in a sermon on this passage, "We are invited to experience blessings falling from heaven, dazzling robes that glow in the dark, fiery chariots blasting through whirlwinds, visions vibrating with voices. With all this, we are given a choice. We can sit back, aloof and detached, scorning this mythical detail with cool intelligence, or we can clamber up the mountain, jump into the whirlwind, and allow ourselves to meet God." In other words, we could spend hours upon hours trying to explain the unexplainable, never getting closer to God, or we can follow Elisha, Peter, James and John into some uncharted territory. If we are able to live with the mystery we may experience what Jesus calls "the abundant life"; life which is richer and fuller we have ever known.
Epiphanies (that is, revelations) are hard for those of us in the 21st century to handle. They certainly can't be understood scientifically. Yet scientists themselves are increasingly acknowledging the limitations of human knowledge. As author Madeleine L'Engle used to say, "Stories like these may not be factual, but they are true." Besides, do we really want God to be so manageable that God is narrowed down to what we can comprehend?
Our task is not so much to manage such mysteries as to somehow acknowledge and come to terms with them. This is tough for those of us who like to have things neatly under control - preferably our control. Yet more and more it seems that people are returning to a belief in the numinous (meaning spiritual or having to do with God). While rational thought is still a very important gift, it is not all there is. Too often we join Peter, James, and John in thinking we know it all. As Jesus becomes dazzling white before them (a symbol of divine presence) as on other occasions, they were again confronted by the power of God in a way that exceeded all their categories of understanding.
The complimentary stories of what is called "the assumption" of Elijah (meaning he is taken directly to heaven without dying) and the Transfiguration of Jesus offer us a path that leads toward experiencing God. We can leave behind our worries about the economy, our "run here, run there" schedules that only our Blackberry's can remember, and approach God - in those places which defy explanation, where everything is unpredictable, yet where, for whatever reason, comfort and hope call to us.
Elijah is nearing the end of his life, and needs a suitable successor. Jesus is at a critical point in his ministry, when he turns toward Jerusalem and certain death. So he takes the three disciples and heads up the mountain top coming face to face with God's glory.
The three disciples see Jesus in blazing glory, along with Elijah and Moses. What a three-some! James and John are pretty smart. They do what I've told our youth mission team to do in South Dakota this summer if they aren't sure what is appropriate in Lakota culture: simply keep their mouths shut!
But bless good old Peter's heart. He's like so many of us. When he doesn't know what to say, he says it anyway. Nervous, fast-paced words fly out of his mouth without much thought. "Wow! This is pretty amazing. I have an idea - let's build three booths, so you all can hang out together. Let's capture this Kodak moment forever!"
Instead of living in the moment, instead of taking the time to sit with it and reflect, instead of letting the mystery rush over him, Peter rushes to fill the void, and to put this other-worldly experience into terms he can understand. The Jewish feast of Succoth had booths, so he could just build three of those! John Calvin comments, that Peter tries to confine "the kingdom of Christ...to the narrow limits of twenty or thirty feet." Many people follow Peter in this, when they try to confine the kingdom of Christ to the narrow limits of their own lives
Like Peter, our temptation when we confront something beyond our understanding is to do something right away; to try and put it back into terms that make sense to us. But, when we do that we miss the opportunity to take more time, to step back, to reflect, to invite revelation to become more clear, to acknowledge that God may be doing something here - with us!--if we will just allow ourselves to take it in.
As we learned this past month in Adult Christian Formation, listening is so much harder than speaking. It's often also more difficult than doing, and much more powerful. So while Peter is blabbering on, a voice comes from the cloud, "This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!" Listen.
Between i-pods, televisions, video games, buzzing or ringing cell phones, planes, trains and automobiles, our culture is "loud." And that's nothing compared to the virtual non-stop chatter that runs through most of our heads: "I need to buy milk on the way home. Did I pay the phone bill? I wonder when my friend will call. I don't know how I will ever get all this work done..."and on it goes.
But as with the three disciples, when faced with an experience of God that may be out of the range of our understanding, we are called to silence our mind and listen. Take time to see what God is up to. In a world that tells us that busier is better, our faith suggests something else: "Wait upon the Lord, " "Be still and know that I am God." "Let all the earth keep silence before God," "This is my son. Listen to him!"
Yet if you and I are continually seeking God's powerful presence, it won't be found by hanging out remembering the good old days. It won't be found by trying to recreate a once in a lifetime event. I'm convinced that all human beings experience moments of transfiguration. We've all been touched by mystery. The problem is that too often we don't recognize it. The way to the holy, the way to God, the way to that experience of sacredness and mystery that we crave is, surprisingly through the so-called ordinary events of our lives.
So where do we see God's glory? Where have you known the presence of God's Spirit so strongly that it nearly knocked the wind out of you? Again, Susan Andrews raises some possibilities: "When have you been invited to "see" God-to climb the mountain, to enter the whirlwind, to stick your head in the clouds? When have you been transfigured or changed by an intimate encounter with the holy? To take a risk beyond conventional limits, to give up control and to trust the holy? Was it at the death bed of a loved one, when deep ridges of living pain relaxed into the peaceful healing of death? Was it at the moment of birth, where out of thick clouds of blood a perfect body was born? Was it in the midst of meditative prayer, when the boundaries of your own mind and body melted into the oneness of universal spirit? Was it a musical moment when the passion of emotion pushed open the limits of your mind and uncovered the beat of God's heart?"
Here is the irony. When we finally are still enough inside to embrace the mystery and open ourselves to God, it's time to move on. No staying on the mountaintop. Such powerful, spiritual events are to be remembered, but they are not stop signs. Peter wanted to "camp out," and stay in this special place. It's a temptation we all face: to build our lives around the powerful moments in our lives.
This week, leaving the mountain top, we turn the corner to Lent, just as Jesus came down and turned toward Jerusalem. Following Jesus means being with the people who need us, going where life is real, full of beauty to be sure, but also of pain and grief and struggle.
So Transfiguration Sunday is an invitation, to leave business as usual behind for a while and to let ourselves see the healing and wholeness, the wonder and awe, the glory and mystery of God's presence. If we look - we will see.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning, in Sonnets from the Portuguese, writes:
"Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes - The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries."
Let's look, see and in enormous gratitude and awe, take off our shoes!
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