Scriptures: Exodus
24:12-18, 2 Peter 1:16-21; Matthew 17:1-9
Today is the first Sunday in March. This year, it is also the last Sunday in
Epiphany, the season of the church calendar that celebrates the revelation of
Jesus to the world. Later this week will
be Ash Wednesday – which will be celebrated at Bridesburg Methodist, as in past
years – and next Sunday will be the first Sunday in Lent. On this last Sunday in Epiphany, it is
appropriate that the Gospel reading describes the Transfiguration, in which
Jesus revealed himself in a special way to three of his disciples, Peter, James
and John.
Matthew’s Gospel is thought to have been written to an early
Christian community comprised mostly, though not entirely, of Jewish converts
to the way of Jesus. Matthew brings out
many parallels between the Transfiguration of Jesus and the giving of the law
to Moses. Both the giving of the law to
Moses and the transfiguration of Jesus occur on mountains, which because of
their height were considered especially close to heaven and were therefore thought
to be places in which encounters with the Holy were especially likely to occur
– similar to what the Irish have called “thin places,” places where the barrier
between earth and heaven became almost translucent, and one could almost see
from one side to the other. Six days
Moses stayed on the mountaintop, enveloped by the glory of God appearing as a
cloud, before Moses received the law; six days after revealing to his disciples
that he would be killed in Jerusalem, Jesus invited Peter, James, and John to
hike with him up the mountain, where Jesus then appeared before them
transfigured, appeared to them in a glory that had not previously been
apparent. God spoke to Moses out of the
cloud of glory; Jesus spoke with Moses – representing the law – and Elijah – representing
the prophets – on the mountain of transfiguration. Of course, the disciples are beside themselves
with joy and with awe; Peter, supposing that this sort of summit meeting
between Jesus, Moses, and Elijah might go on for a while, maybe even overnight,
offers to build huts for each of them to live in. And then, as if seeing Jesus talking with
Moses and Elijah weren’t enough, the three disciples hear God’s voice booming
at them out of a cloud, in words that remind us of the voice heard at Jesus’
baptism: “This is my Son, the beloved, with him I am well-pleased; listen to
Him.” Joy becomes terror, and they hit
the deck, falling face down on the ground.
Then the vision vanishes, and Jesus gently reaches out to touch them on
the shoulder, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.”
What are we to make of this? At first glance, we may think the entire
account is beyond our experience. And
yet, I think we’ve all had experiences in which we learn something we didn’t
know previously about someone long familiar to us – perhaps a parent or a
spouse or a lifelong friend - that helps us see that familiar person in a whole
new way. For example, perhaps growing
up, we asked our dad about some military medals we found tucked away in the
back of a drawer, and out came stories dad’s military heroism, long years
before we were born, that give us new respect for our dad. Or maybe one night over the dinner table, Mom
reminisced about how she’d worked night shift in a factory to support dad
through school, and we saw a side of Mom’s character that we hadn’t seen
before. I’d imagine that for the
longtime members of this congregation, your former pastor Rev Grau’s and his
wife’s accounts of their mission work in Ghana helped you see him in a
different way – Rev. Grau was a fatherly figure while he was here, but I bet he
and his wife had some amazing stories of their time in Ghana, from when they
were younger.
And so one part of the Transfiguration account was that Jesus
gave to Peter, James and John, the three disciples to whom Jesus was closest, a
special revelation of His character – that, indeed, Jesus was a teacher and a
healer, but not only that, that Jesus was the beloved of God, was himself God,
in dialogue with Moses and Elijah, the law and the prophets. Throughout the Old Testament, direct
encounters with God are under normal circumstances too much for frail human
beings to handle; for example, when God gave the law to Moses, the people told
Moses, “You speak to us, and we’ll listen, but do not let God speak to us, or
we’ll die.” And so normally God’s glory is hidden from us. But for his closest followers, on this one
occasion, Jesus pulled back the veil just a bit, gave them just a glimpse of
the glory of God that was always with Jesus – glory that was always there - but
under normal circumstances was hidden from their sight.
Why did Jesus give this vision to his three closest
disciples? Was it just a moment of
indulgence, a chance to show off a bit? Or was something deeper going on? Remember the
context of the account – six days before the Transfiguration, Jesus had begun
to tell his disciples that he was going to Jerusalem Jerusalem Temple
Again, this account of the Transfiguration may seem outside
our experience, something that is perhaps interesting to read, but disconnected
from our lives. And yet, as we prepare for the upcoming season of Lent, when spiritually
for 40 days we walk alongside Jesus on his journey to the cross, let us
consider the ways in which we encounter God’s presence in our own lives. We may feel God’s presence when we come to
church and, as we sing a beloved hymn or lift up the needs of our neighbors in
prayer, we may hear God’s still small voice within our hearts, or feel the
touch of God’s hand brush against us.
When I was in my early teens, during a time in which my parents were
going through difficulties and I felt alone in a world of hurt, unable to do
anything to help them beyond staying out of their way, and unable to tell my
friends what was going on at home, the ringing of the bells of my hometown church,
as the carillon rang out hymns at noon, 3pm and 6 pm every day, the sound of
the bells played familiar hymns as I walked home from school and I remembered
the words of the hymn, “help of the helpless, O abide with me....” at a time
when I was feeling very helpless indeed, to me was like God’s voice, telling me
that God had not forgotten me, that God was going to carry me through….and so
when I preached here for the first time back in November 2007, as nervous and
awkward as I was, tripping over steps and stumbling over words, as Al went
upstairs to pull the rope to ring your church bell before service, you can
imagine that the sound of the bell brought back reassuring memories to me from
years past – God is here, too. We may
feel God’s presence as we read a passage of Scripture and something jumps out
at us that we hadn’t seen before. We may
feel God’s presence as we read a prayer or a Psalm or sing a hymn that was a
favorite of our mother or father. We may
feel God’s presence in a brilliant sunrise or sunset, or, in the words of the
old hymn, “in the rustling grass I hear him pass, He speaks to me
everywhere.” We may encounter God’s presence, that of God,
in each other and in our neighbors, if we have eyes to see. As Christian writer C. S. Lewis wrote,
“There
are no ordinary people. You have never met a mere mortal… It is a serious thing
to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the
dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature
which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a
horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare.”
Religious writer Annie Dillard often express her frustration
that churchgoers are often seemingly in worship on autopilot, seemingly
sleepwalk through encounters with the Divine.
She asks, “Why do people in
churches seem like cheerful tourists on a packaged tour of the Absolute?” Or perhaps the following quote is more
expressive:
“On the whole, I
do not find Christians, outside the catacombs, sufficiently sensible of
conditions. Does any-one have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so
blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The
churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up
a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies' straw
hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers
should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our
pews. For the sleeping god may wake some day and take offense, or the waking
god may draw us out to where we can never return."
We also experience God’s presence in the sacraments. Through the waters of baptism, God claims us
for God’s own, as we or our parents on our behalf promise to walk in God’s
ways, and the church promises to support that lifelong walk with God. And in a few moments, we’ll have the privilege
to encounter the presence of Christ in the elements of Communion, as we
remember the body of Christ, broken for us, and the blood of Christ, poured out
for our salvation. May God’s presence
strengthen us for the 40 days of Lent, and may God’s presence be with us and go
with us wherever our lives may take us.
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment