Sermon Title: "Glimpsing God"
Date: March 6, 2011
Minister:  The Rev. Susan Bjork

Lesson:  Matthew 17:1-9

Gracious God, Creator and Sustainer, you have promised that where two or three are gathered in your name, there you are also.  In this promise, we know you are present here in this place, here in our hearts, here in this community.  I pray that each person gathered here may experience your presence in this moment in the way they need to most.  Amen.

Transfiguration is a curious word, meaning most literally metamorphosis, but also transformation, or change, or even new perception, epiphany or revelation.

When Peter, James, and John accompanied Jesus up the mountain on that day of transfiguration, I doubt that they expected much out of the ordinary to take place.  “Follow me” was the invitation he had given them when he first called them, so follow is what they did.  Where all this following would lead exactly…that was probably still a little foggy at this point. 

But things were getting a little more serious now.  This ministry movement Jesus led was gaining a greater following and gaining some more attention (and not all of it positive).  Just a few days prior Jesus had told them about the suffering he would endure before this journey would come to its dramatic end.

And now here they were, Jesus’ disciples, following him up a mountain…and suddenly the extraordinary happened…

Blindingly bright, Jesus’ face suddenly shone like the sun.   White and dazzlingly radiant, his clothes glittered with divine beauty.  And they saw the Jesus they knew in an entirely new way, now in conversation with two of the important figures of their faith, Moses and Elijah.

There in that moment, Peter, James and John caught a fresh, mystical, and frightfully dramatic glimpse of God.

Peter’s response to this vision of glory may seem a little odd to us at first.  Peter wants to stay there on the mountain and build dwellings for Jesus, Moses and Elijah.  What is implied here is really that he wants to build tents (or a temple) to house the holy.

We discussed this story the other night at 6-2-8 and I asked some of our middle school students why they thought Peter responded in the way he did to this experience.

They answered that perhaps Peter wanted to keep that place holy, or maybe it was to prove his faith and love for Jesus, or to give back to Jesus somehow, or maybe to impress him, or perhaps Peter was simply struck speechless and this is the first thing that came to mind as he fumbles around, looking for something to do.

I think they are right!  All of their answers point out that Peter’s response is a very human one.  Simon Peter, the well-intended and big hearted disciple who often stumbles over himself and misses the mark, is a human being who doesn’t want to let this moment pass without doing something.  He wants to hold on to this experience of transcendence.  When confronted with a glimpse of God upon the mountaintop, Peter wishes to stay there.  Who wouldn’t?

But once again, Peter misunderstands the meaning of this encounter.  And just as he is suggesting that they stay up on the mountain, he is interrupted by a voice from a bright cloud saying “this is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him.”  Essentially, these are the same words spoken at Jesus’ baptism with an additional reminder to the disciples to listen to Jesus.

Well this divine interruption knocks Peter and the rest right off their feet in fear.  And once again this is, of course, a very natural human response to such a dramatic and unexpected experience of God.

Jesus’ response to his disciples in this moment is compassion.  He touches them with the healing touch they have come to know as his and says “get up and do not be afraid.”  And when they look up the dazzling and awe-inspiring divine display is over and it is simply Jesus standing there alone (and probably looking quite human again).

So, back down from the mountain they go and back into the ordinary world and Jesus urges them to keep this vision to themselves until after his resurrection.

One of the reasons we hear this transfiguration story today is that it serves as a closing bracket to the season of Epiphany as we shift gears and move into Lent this Wednesday.  The transfiguration display of divinity foreshadows the glory of Easter and grants us a glimpse of the beauty and goodness of God before we follow Jesus into the wilderness of the Lenten season and all of the pain and suffering it will hold for him.

In addition to foreshadowing what will come to pass, the transfiguration story also serves as a reminder of Jesus’ place in the history of God’s work in the world.  In the context of Matthew’s gospel, the presence of Moses and Elijah remind us that Jesus is the one who will fulfill God’s work which began long ago.  This is something that is important to Matthew in particular. 

Both Moses and Elijah were prophetic leaders who had encounters with God on mountaintops; they were prophets who were not always trusted in their time by the people they led; and they were the bearers of God’s hopes and dreams into the world.  And now it is Jesus, in the company of his ancestors who is carrying forth God’s work in the world.

When I asked our middle school students the other night what they imagined they might feel or think if they were one of Jesus’ disciples who accompanied him up the mountain that day, they said that they too would be afraid or even intimidated by this display as Jesus’ disciples were.  Some said that they might be curious or unsure as to why this happened, why they were chosen to be there when it happened, and why they were to keep it a secret.  And they also said they felt trusted by Jesus and honored (or even overwhelmed) by that trust.

Again, I think that these are very human responses.  We don’t always have an explanation as to why we may experience God more profoundly in some circumstances more than others, what exactly we are to do with that experience, and if or how we are to communicate that experience to others.  That ineffability of the experience of God is what the mystics of our tradition have tried to convey through poetry, music, and art for centuries. 

It is a beautiful thing to sense God’s presence clearly and profoundly.  And yet sometimes, as in the disciples’ experience, the moment is fleeting and the mundane world sets in again all too quickly.

We, like Peter, wish we could dwell on the mountaintop forever where God’s love and grace feel the most present, powerful, and palpable.  We, like Peter, wish we could enshrine God (and perhaps even confine God) to a predictable place of encounter.  We, like Peter, desire permanence in the midst of a world of shifting sands.

But that is not the reality of the journey of life or of faith.  Just as there are mountaintop moments, there are also valleys we must walk through.  And though it may be easy to glimpse God’s radiance while up on the mountain and get our bearings while beholding the magnificent vista, sometimes in the dimly lit twists and turns of the valleys we must traverse, it is harder to see God and less clear which direction we are to go.

And perhaps it is there, on the valley floor, that we must engage in the spiritual practice of holy remembering: remembering our mountaintop moments, remembering glimpsing God, remembering the people, relationships, communities which strengthen us and sustain us, remembering that just as life is not all mountain; neither is it all valley.

When I asked our middle school students when they have seen God most clearly in their lives, many of them spoke of being comforted in moments of fear, of turning to God in sadness or when uncertain about a decision.  One person shared a story of confronting her fear of riding a particular roller coaster when she happened to look up and saw light break forth through the clouds and felt reassured by God.  That struck me as a pretty good metaphor for life with its ups and downs, twists and turns, thrills and fears.  And all along the ride, we hold out hope that we will behold the light breaking through the clouds, reminding us that we are not alone on the journey.

These responses our young people gave to this question say to me that even in those valley moments of fear and uncertainty, whether small or large, we can catch a glimpse of God and we can always turn to God in prayer.  And sometimes as we reflect on the other side of a profound and difficult valley experience, we may see God even more clearly than before.

We may not experience God’s presence in the same kind of dramatic and dazzling display that Peter, James, and John experienced in Jesus’ transfiguration, but we can turn to God in prayer whether we are on the mountain or in the valley and everywhere in between.

When I asked the 6-2-8ers what they thought the purpose or meaning of this story was, they told me it was to be trusting and to be faithful.

And I think they are right!

Jesus said “follow me.”  The voice of God in the bright cloud said “listen to him.” 

When it comes down to it, knowing that both mountains and valleys lay in the paths before us all, I believe the Christian faith is predominantly about this: following Jesus, the one who lived as an expression of God’s love; and the one who taught us to love God with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength, and to love our neighbors as ourselves.  Amen.