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Sermon for February 15, 2015;
Last Sunday after The Epiphany
Transfiguration Sunday
The Rev. Vicki K. Hesse
St. Philip’s In The Hills, Tucson, AZ
Mark
9:2-9
Listen Here
I speak to you in the name of one God:
Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen
Today
is Transfiguration Sunday.
The
day marks the end of the season of Epiphany
and
moves us toward the season of Lent,
beginning
this week on Ash Wednesday.
Transfiguration
– that’s a word we seldom use.
In
fact, perhaps the only other place
that
word used is in Harry Potter.
“Transfigurations”
is the name of the course
at
Hogwarts, with Professor McGonagall.
In
that class, students practice with their wands
changing
the form and appearance of an object:
like
ravens into water goblets,
buttons
into beetles or humans into toads.
Mark’s
Gospel seems to describe an incident
not
unlike a Harry Potter story:
A
teacher who glows in the dark,
dead
men who appear
and
then vanish into thin air,
and
a body-less voice
that
calls from an overshadowing cloud.
It’s
rather strange.
And
this story is told every
Last
Sunday of the Epiphany.
Transfiguration
is what
Barbara
Brown Taylor calls
“another
epiphany, which ordinary time
and space cannot contain.”[1]
Here,
Peter, James and John accompany Jesus
up
a high mountain, just the four of them.
And
then, Jesus was transfigured before them.
His
clothes became dazzling white,
such
as no Altar Guild could bleach them.
Then
two of the patriarchs appear, too:
Moses
and Elijah.
Peter
must be in shock, possibly terrified,
because
he doesn’t know what to say.
He
mumbles something about making dwellings.
I
love Peter; he reminds me of my inability
to
say something witty and
my
gift for saying something awkward
in special moments.
Then
a cloud overshadowed them and
they
heard the voice,
“this
is my Son, listen to him!”
They
descend the mountain;
on
the way Jesus tells them to keep quiet about it
until after he is risen.
“Listen
to him!” sums up
Mark’s
transfiguration account,
but
that is not the whole story.
This
transfiguration happens
in
the context of the previous verses.
Just
prior to this scene,
Jesus
has told them three important lessons
to
which they were to “listen!”
First,
he told the first passion prediction,
that
he must undergo great suffering
and
be rejected and be killed and rise again.
Second,
he told them an extended lesson
about
self-denial, taking up one’s own cross,
and
following him.
Third,
he described the way to “save” one’s life
is
by losing it, for the sake of the gospel.
Those
three lessons precede the Transfiguration.
We
can’t possibly understand the part
without looking at the whole.
Those
three lessons invited the disciples,
and invite us, to embrace the
consequences
that face those
who challenge human imperial power.
When
we embrace the consequences
of challenging human power,
we
rely on God’s promise
to
overwhelm the powers of the world,
definitely
at the cross.
When
we embrace the consequences
of
challenging human power,
we
are taking up the cross.
The
cross, the finest symbol of Roman empire
and
the climactic expression
of God’s liberating power.
The
whole story then, from the three lessons
through
to God’s voice saying “Listen to him!”,
underlines
of Jesus’ way of the cross.
The
transfiguration scene places Jesus’ words
alongside
Moses and Elijah.
Many
theologians view
Moses standing for The Law and
Elijah standing for The Prophets and
Jesus as the Messiah.
Barbara
Brown Taylor, says that,
“…
By singling Jesus out as
"my
Son, the Beloved,"
God
sets the gospel over the law
and the prophets.
Listen
to him, says
the voice from the cloud.”
So
we can read two meanings of the transfiguration.
One
is “…about how it is better
to
keep your mouth shut
in
the presence of the holy
than
to blurt things out like Peter does.”
The
other is that perhaps,
“…the
purpose of such mountaintop experiences
is
to strengthen us for the climb back down into
the
valley of the shadow of death,
where
our real work remains to be done.”[2]
American
Buddhist scholar Jack Kornfield
captured
the juxtaposition
of
the glorious transfiguration
and
the suffering way of the cross
in
his book entitled,
“After
the Ecstasy, The Laundry.”
Kornfield
reminds the reader that is it our human nature to have times of
awakenings and openness
followed
by periods of fear and contraction.
“In
mysterious ways the heart reveals itself
to
be like a flower that opens and closes.”
But,
he cautions,
“every
wise voyager learns
that
we cannot hold onto the last port of call,
no
matter how beautiful.
To
do so would be like holding our breath.”[3]
“Holding
onto the last port of call”
is
what Peter was trying to do
as
the glory of God
was
revealed in the transfiguration.
And
it is what we try to do,
to
hold on to those glorious moments,
to
hold our breath. But we cannot.
We
are called
to
Jesus’ way of the cross, especially during Lent.
Here
what I am NOT saying:
that
suffering is good, that death is acceptable.
What
I am saying is that
to
follow Jesus this Lent,
to
experience our own transfiguration,
we may have to risk rejection
to suffer of our own psyche and
to die to a of part of our
identity.
Then
we can find ourselves in the glory of God.
When
we take a stand
in the name of God’s non-violent,
peacemaking and steadfast love,
we might face some rejection.
When
we reach out to feed the hungry,
or
clothe the naked, or visit the sick,
someone
might ask why we are helping
“those” people.
When
we look for ways to live peacefully,
we risk rejection by our friends
as
we pray for the end of gun violence.
When
we take up a new service project,
we risk suffering shame through
failure.
When
we confess things done and left undone,
in the intimate Rite of
Reconciliation,
we risk exposing our souls
to God’s unfailing forgiveness.
In
all these actions,
we are listening to Jesus.
In
all these actions,
we are
transfigured and
we shine with
God’s glory.
In
all these actions,
we are pilgrims on the way.
And the way is often difficult.
Dr.
Sheryl Kujawa-Holbrook reminds us that
pain
and struggle are key characteristics
of any inward journey.
She
says that
“…pilgrims
are known to suffer
fear,
disorientation and discomfort in both
their
inward and outward journeys.”[4]
And
fear is not a bad place
to
start a spiritual journey.[5]
The
sense of fear experienced by
Peter, James and John in today’s gospel
reminds
us that the goal of any pilgrimage,
like the Lenten way of the cross,
is
about making meaning of the journey.
We
all want mountain top experiences
with transfigurations,
but
we eventually come down the mountain
to a new normal.
Despite
our fear of God’s glory,
that is where our
pilgrimage begins.
That
glory is a gift to be shared –
we all know the need
to be encouraged along the way.
That
glory is what happens
on the holy mountain of our heart.
That
glory is what makes us weep.
That
glory is what pulls us into life.
That
glory is what fills us with joy.
I
heard this story one time[6] about
a monk,
who
asked his disciples,
“How
do you know when the night is ending
and
the new dawn has come?”
The
disciples responded,
“Well,
is it when you can see clearly
that a dog is not a sheep, or
that you can tell the difference
between
an oak tree and a maple tree?”
The
monk taught them:
you
know the night is ending and
the
new dawn has come when the
light in you
reveals
that the one across from you
is
your sister or brother.
Until
then, it is always night.
That
light is God’s glory that transfigures you.
That
light is the glory that shines
on the pilgrimage way of the
cross.
That
light encourages us to be pilgrims this Lent,
and risk rejection, suffering and ego
death
for the glory of God.
Will
you join me this Lent,
embracing
the way,
sharing
God’s glory,
and
being transfigured every step of the way?
Amen.
[1]Barbara Brown Taylor, “Dazzling
Darkness,” in The Christian Century, Vol. 115, No. 4, February 4
[2] Barbara Brown Taylor, “The
Bright Cloud of Unknowing,” on Day1. Cited http://day1.org/5560-the_bright_cloud_of_unknowing on February 13, 2015.
[3] Jack Kornfield, "After
the Ecstasy, the Laundry: How the Heart Grows Wise on the Spiritual Path," at http://www.beliefnet.com/Faiths/Buddhism/2000/06/After-The-Ecstasy-The-Laundry.aspx?p=1cited
on February 12, 2015.
[4] Dr. Sheryl A. Kujawa-Holbrook,
Pilgrimate: The Sacred Art: Journey to the Center of the Heart, (Woodstock, VT,
Skylight Paths, 2013)p 62
[5] Dr. Kujawa-Holbrook quoting
Kathleen Norris, in Dakota
[6] Bishop Porter Taylor, in
sermon at All Souls Cathedral, Asheville, NC, May 12, 2013
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