Transfiguration Sunday
March 5, 2000
Year B
Theme: We are given the gift of moments of wonder so that we can meet
the cross—and ultimately, our own resurrection.
Many of you know that I spent a few days at a retreat center on the edge
of the Cascades. The retreat center is called Holden Village and its
connected to the Lutheran church—it is truly an incredible place! It is
essentially a small village settled amidst some of the most beautiful
peaks and mountains I have ever seen. For me, it was a time of
reflection, a time of reading, of prayer, of peace—and perhaps, most
wonderfully, it was a time in which I got to live into the complete wonder
of God in that beautiful place. But you know, during that time, I was also
tempted—Holden offers year long volunteer work positions where you
can receive room and board for some work during a one or two year
commitment. To be honest, it was a little tempting—to be able to live in
that quiet remote village, amidst some of the most beautiful scenery in
Washington state. But, of course, much to my chagrin, the reality is that
I was meant to be there for only a short time—I was given the chance to
be in that wondrous place for a short time—I know that I am not
supposed to be living there—I am supposed to be here, of course. And
to be honest, like most things, if I had stayed I suspect that much of the
magic of Holden would have been lost forever. But the temptation was
real, of course, the temptation to stay, quite literally, in this beautiful
place of wonder and rest—and the whole process reminded me why we
have stories like the one before us today. Today is Transfiguration
Sunday, the day where we listen to the story of how Christ met with the
past, when Christ met with Moses and Elijah, and he and these prophets
were literally surrounded by the shining majesty of God.
Part of the lesson for Transfiguration Sunday for us, I think, is that we
are given moments of wonder, moments of rest, moments of peace, so
that we can meet what we must meet when the shining brilliance has
faded, when we must leave places like Holden and face the shadow
times that the coming season of Lent hints at. We are given times we will
never forget, times that we will spend our lives in simple amazement
over, so that we will have the strength to meet the cross that awaits us in
our personal valleys, to meet the shadows we find during Lent.
Resurrection, of course, is the end of the story, for Jesus and for us, but
before we can experience resurrection, we must, like Christ, experience
crucifixion. But Christ will not send us on that journey without the
strength we need—no, the Transfiguration is all about offering the
disciples a gift of strength so that they can meet confusion of the coming
days. The scene before us today is remarkable—every time I come back
to it, I am amazed at the incredible sight of this moment. And still, I’ve
always wondered about this story—what’s the point, after all? You have
Jesus and two of the greatest figures in the history of Israel clothed in an
incredible white light. The disciples are obviously shocked and amazed,
as they see Jesus talking to Moses and Elijah.
But, you know, the scene, I think, makes more sense if we look at the
previous chapter. In chapter 8 of Mark, Jesus reveals to his disciples
that he is a different kind of Messiah—he reveals to them that he will not
be the warrior king who leads Israel to freedom from the Romans, but,
instead, he will be a Messiah that will be crucified, a Messiah that will be
mocked and a Messiah who will experience human cruelty first hand. But
Peter rejects the idea—he actually tries to tell Jesus that he is wrong—
that this cannot possibly be the case. And of course, Jesus gets a little
miffed at this refusal to believe what he is saying and he likens Peter to
Satan because he refuses to believe that the Messiah will suffer. So, by
the time we see what is happening here at the Transfiguration, we know
that there has been some tension between Jesus and the disciples,
especially Peter. But the tension melts at this moment, at this incredible
moment, because Jesus knows that Peter and the other disciples will
need this moment of rest, this moment of wonder, all of which is mixed in
with fear, for the months and days ahead. They stand in the threshold
between Moses and Elijah and the Messiah Jesus, as they experience
this wonder happening before them, this wonder bathed in white light.
They are getting some of the assurance they need that Jesus really is
the One, that he is the Messiah that they have been waiting for, despite
what they feel about what kind of Messiah Jesus will end up being. “This
is my Child, listen to him,” a voice booms from a cloud, affirming once
and for all for the disciples that Jesus really is the Messiah. Do they
have future doubts? Yes, but this moment will be something that they will
draw upon when the cross becomes an ugly reality. But wait, someone
wants to stay on that mountain, someone wants to stay in this magical
moment. Peter, of course, says whatever comes off the top of his head,
but, as usual, what he says is truly from the heart. “Rabbi, its great for
us to be here—how about if we make a place for you and Elijah and
Moses to stay?” You can tell he doesn’t really know what he is saying—
in fact, the Scriptures say of Peter and the disciples—“he did not know
what to say, for they were terrified.” As much as Peter is terrified, he
doesn’t want the moment to end—“let me build you a place to stay so
that we can remain here, so that this moment will never end,” Peter says
in the midst of his fear. Fear and wonder are all mixed together herein
this moment, but he would rather stay on the mountain, in this moment,
than meet the unknown in the valley.
But that’s not surprising, is it, the temptation to want to stay in our
moments of rest, of peace, to stay in our moments of wonder, even if
they are mixed in with fear, for in those moments we know for sure that
we are in the presence of the living God. Yes, we may be a little scared,
but at least we know THIS fear and it is so obvious that God is here. We
don’t know what terror will meet us in the valleys of our lives—and we
don’t know if it will be so obvious that God is with uswhen we go down
from the mountain. It is always a temptation to stay in our mountaintop
experiences, in our moments of Transfiguration when it is so clear that
God is working in and through our lives. It is quite another thing, I think,
to enjoy this moment of wonder, of rest, of peace, and to take the
strength and assurance that we receive of God’s awesome presence
and wondrous power with us as we make our inevitable way down to the
valleys of our lives where we know the cross will meet us. Peter wants to
stay there—he is terrified, he is overwhelmed, but he knows that he is
surely in the presence of God, something he is not sure will meet him
when he has to experience watching Jesus being crucified, something he
is not sure of when he will one day experience his own crucifixion, both
literally and figuratively. Like Peter, we too are given moments of
Transfiguration when we know for sure that God is surely working in our
lives.
We are given moments like this so that when we have to make our way
down the mountain, towards the valley of our lives, we will have the
strength to get through the cross that meets at the bottom of the hill, so
that we will have the strength to get through the horror of our personal
crucifixion. We are given the gift of God’s clear and powerful presence
for short periods in our lives so that during a different time, during a time
of shadows and mourning, during a time like Lent which looms before us,
we will know without a doubt that God is present in our lives. And for
what are we given these mountains and valleys, these moments of
wonder and horror? We are given these moments of transfiguration and
crucifixion so that we will truly experience what it means to be
resurrected. And unlike those passing moments of transfiguration, of
wonder, our experience of resurrection will not be one in which we will
ever have to anticipate crucifixion again. The people we become in the
moment of our resurrection, that moment at the end of time when God
brings our spirits and bodies together most fully, is a culmination of those
personal moments of wonder on the mountain and those personal
moments of crucifixion in the valley. The only way to resurrection is
through the cross, the only way to be the whole, complete people we are
meant to be is through the cross—and to be honest, I don’t know why
that is, I personally would have chosen a different route, but since its
pretty clear that God didn’t ask me for an opinion, this seems to be the
way it is. But the good news is that we are given strength before we
have to make our way down into our personal valleys—we are given
moments of wonder, of grace, of peace—sometimes even moments of
terror—we are given what we need to meet the shadow moments of our
lives, the crucifixion moments of our lives. Know this—
that whatever you face in the next few months, in the next few years,
perhaps even during this time of Lent, know that God will give you that
moment of wonder, that moment of assurance of God’s incredible
presence, that moment of transfiguration, so that you will be able to get
through the cross that most surely meet you, as surely as the cross
meets all of us. We are never, never left alone—you and I, we are given
strength for the journey—we are in relationship with a God who will give
us what we need to meet our cross, so that we can experience that
wonderful, powerful, amazing resurrection that meets us on the other
side of the cross. Amen and amen.
