Sermons

Feb 3 - The Rev. Christopher McLaren - The Transfiguration

Last Epiphany Year A / Sunday before Ash Wednesday
Text: Matthew 17: 1-9 The Transfiguration

In New Orleans this Last Sunday of Epiphany before Lent begins is called Mardi Gras Sunday or Sundi Gras as we playfully dubbed it. Service times are moved up so the faithful can find parking spots and make it into church before the crowds show up for the 5 or 6 parades that roll that day on the traditional St. Charles Ave. Route like Toth, Tucks, Carrolton, Orpheus and more. You can hear the marching bands from the church and feel the excitement in the air.

Those Sundays were filled with Jazz and Dixie land in the Eucharist, Grillades and Grits down stairs in the parish hall, crowds filing past the church doors with lawn chairs and coolers to stake out a place along the parade route. It was a day we often scheduled baptisms and had what was a unique liturgical moment we called the beading of the baptized which meant that stands of white beads were placed on the newly baptized along with their family. Children would walk the aisles handing out white beads to the congregation at the peace. It was a festive day and always on that day the strange and beautiful reading of the Transfiguration of Jesus on the Mountain, his face shining was part of the celebration. Just as those who emerged from the waters of the font were shining in our midst with droplets of water and the oil of chrism on their faces.

As I pondered this supernatural story of Jesus being revealed in Glory as God’s Beloved Son, a title for this sermon came into my mind – “A Tumble with the Divine.” When I told my wife about the sermon title, she was a bit incredulous but figured it was St. Michael’s and I could probably get away with it.

Oh yes, I am aware that a sermon title like “A Tumble with the Divine” might indeed carry with it sexual overtones. I am however not the least bit scandalized by this idea being in good company with the Christian mystics, who throughout the ages, have spoken of union with God as the highest of callings for all humans. However, that is not why I chose the title.

I chose the title “A Tumble with the Divine” because in Eastern Orthodox Icons depicting the Transfiguration, the three disciples are pictured tumbling down the mountain, overwhelmed, bowled over by the Glory of God revealed to them in the person of Jesus. You can see several reproductions of Transfiguration icons on the banco behind me that offer an opportunity for prayer and reflection during the service today. For a moment the three disciples caught a glimpse of the divine. But that is to get a little ahead of ourselves.

The Transfiguration is not an easy passage to talk about. Jesus himself didn’t speak of it and he charged the disciples not to speak of it either. Matthew presents it as an intensely private, encounter between Jesus and God, so private that only a few of his most trusted disciples were allowed the experience. The mysterious meeting across time and dimensions is made even more so by the swirling clouds that hide some of it from the disciples view.

Modern scholars question the placement of this story seeing in it a post-resurrection encounter with the Christ placed earlier for literary impact as a foreshadowing. Modern readers find it difficult for though it has the form of a historical narrative its otherworldly content points to a mystery, a mystery beyond the reach of historical reconstruction or scientific verification. What is clear is that this story is not just trying to tell us something about the historical Jesus, the peasant prophet storyteller and itinerant healer who fell afoul of the Roman justice system and was crucified as a royal pretender and subversive charismatic leader. The story of the Transfiguration is trying to draw us into something deeper, deeper into the experience of Jesus as he was experienced by the community that grew up and was shaped by his person. For me deeper means trying to find my way into the story, to lose myself in its mystery.

Three of Jesus’ disciples are bidden to come with Jesus to a high mountain, apart by themselves. We are not let in on his reasons, only that he desired for them to be with him. This high mountain has traditionally been identified as Mt. Tabor in southern Galilee, though it rises only a few hundred feet above the plain it provides an excellent vantage point to see the vast panorama of southern part of the Upper Galilee, about 6 miles from Nazareth, a part of the world that Jesus knew and loved. Even today the faithful make their way here on religious pilgrimage just as countless others have for centuries.

Mountains, high places are important in scripture as places that symbolize the border zone between earth and heaven, between the material and the spiritual. The Irish, my people, call them “thin places” places where the veil between this world and the next is so sheer that it is easy to step through. If you’ve been in one of these places yourself you know what I’m talking about. They may be in ancient places, at holy wells, or shrines, or windswept peaks, but they may also be in hungry eyes of child who needs a chance to go to school, or in the moment of decision to reach out and help, or on the yoga mat in the cool of the morning. No matter where one finds them they are electric with connection these border zones. These “thin places” are places are where we become strangely alive to the divine, suddenly open, surprisingly aware of something beyond ourselves.

That is where Peter, James and John found themselves on Mt. Tabor after a 45 minute climb. Their hearts were pounding, they were winded but intensely alive as they took in the view around them, light dancing on the valley below changing with every moment the wind whipping their hair.

We don’t know which one of them eventually took the risk of sharing the story with the Gospel writer, but the details are clear and unmistakable. First the memory of his face shining like the sun and his clothes, blazing white – filling them with awe and terror. There is no terror like that of the utterly familiar suddenly changing in front of us, revealing things we have never expected. Then there was the realization that they were no longer alone on this high place. They were witnessing with God-given ability some kind of visitation across time and space. We have little description, no record of the images or pictures that led them to their recognition of Moses and Elijah. We are told only that their friend and teacher, Jesus, was engaged in a conversation with the most revered persons of old.

The three disciples look on in wonder, spectators viewing a meeting across worlds and time, like children griped by the subtle pain and joy of beauty. In this thin place, they do not know what to say or what to do. Silently they watch the veil between heaven and earth lift for an instant and that is enough to overwhelm them with wonder, they could not handle more.

Peter, the extrovert, breaks the spell, speaking to Jesus wanting to say something, to do something, to be helpful. Is it time to build, to memorialize the event, enshrine the moment, of this visitation that is like nothing he has ever experienced? He wants to hold on to the mystery to harness this glory and terror. But, no it cannot be that way. Without divine help, Peter cannot comprehend.

Suddenly a cloud covers the mountain, a thick mist blowing over the summit. The vision is hidden from view and you begin to regain your senses. And then a voice comes out of the bright cloud speaking to your mind something strange and wonderful. What you sensed in your heart is now made overwhelmingly clear that the friend you climbed this mountain with is far more than any friend, he is himself a mystery for which no language exists save that of awe and worship and holy terror.

And this of course is the moment that the Orthodox Icon of the Transfiguration endeavors to capture, the disciples tumbling on the ground, overcome by fear, overwhelmed by the divine.

Moments later it is the human touch of their friend and master Jesus that brings them back to earth, comforting them and dispelling their fears. And it is this line of the Gospels that is meant to summarize their experience, “And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.” It is Jesus, in his humanity that calms their fears. It is Jesus’ presence with them not only in the mysterious but in the mundane that wakes them to life again.

Peter, James and John descend the mountain with Jesus. They do not share their experience with others. No, the three disciples treasure this experience in their hearts as food for the journey ahead. Its power and grace will sustain them in the days to come, the days of Jesus’ arrest, trial and execution. They will eventually share this strange experience when the time is ripe. In the days of the resurrection they will remember that mountain-top and the light of transfiguration because they will witness it again.

This powerful story of the Transfiguration will evoke different responses in each of us. You may quite literally have encountered moments of transfiguration of which the story itself reminds you You may feel as though you are ready for a trip up the mountain and a tumble with God. Perhaps you are in pain waiting for the human touch of Jesus to bring you back to your senses. More than likely you are scared witless by this story, lest God actually get your attention through the brightness of his presence. No matter where you are the important thing is the willingness to search for, to be open to those moments when something in our own lives is lit by a light beyond ourselves - to find those thin places where the Divine Glory can send you tumbling in awe and wonder, to let God have his way with you. It can be in our experiences of beauty, of nature, of intimacy, of worship, of prayer, of compassion, or self-giving. The divine will not be limited or tamed – transfiguration can come in many guises.

Like Peter, we will want to hold on to the moment. But this is not possible, for just as with Peter a cloud will come obscuring our view and bringing us back to our senses, back to the earthly. But if we listen closely there may be a voice speaking to us out of the cloud, and we will know that the Lord is with us. And what is more we will have been given if only for a brief moment a vision of the “beauty of God”. And it will be enough, to have looked on that beauty and to have been changed by it. And it will be enough because we know that we can look at such beauty for no more than a moment. If it were ours for longer, we would not be able to bear it. For even a moment of God’s Glory is enough to send us tumbling down the mountain in awe and wonder – never to be the same again. Amen.