SERMON
by Reverend Judith Alltree, delivered on Sunday March 6, 2011
at the Church of the Holy Spirit
Last Epiphany - Transfiguration
“The moment of transfiguration is that point at which God says to the world and to each of us that there is nothing we can do to prepare for or stand in the way of joy or sorrow.” (Feasting:Pastoral, pg. 456)
Our gospel today begins with the words “Six days later….”. Words are of great significance throughout the Bible, even the ones we consider to have the least significance. “Six days later…” makes me ask “later than what?”
Later than Jesus telling his disciples the difficult news that he would have to suffer and die in Jerusalem, a declaration that Peter rejected quite passionately, which Jesus in turn rejected again, telling Peter “get behind me, Satan”. Six days later than being thrilled, confused, hurt, frightened and ashamed all at once. Six days later, and life as they knew it was going to change, and nothing would ever be the same again – not for them or for us.
I think it’s an entirely human trait not to want to hear bad news. Whenever someone had bad news to give my mother, before they got too far into it she would say “don’t tell me, I don’t want to know”, and wave her hands as if by not hearing it the bad news would disappear. “What do you want first, the good news or the bad news?” is a question that most people actually don’t know how to answer. If they get the good news first, of course, there is nothing to look forward to. If the bad first, it might taint the good news. The simplest thing might be not to listen at all.
As human as that is, it’s not realistic. The good news exists with the bad news. We can’t prevent it, or go around it. It will meet up with us at some point, so better we know than we don’t know; at least, that’s always been my philosophy.
Jesus and his disciples were at a high point in their ministry; Peter had declared Jesus to be the Messiah, things seemed to be going so well, and then, the news about the real purpose of Jerusalem. Their entirely human response to Jesus’ news was, of course, denial. Why not? “Don’t tell me that, I don’t want to hear it! I won’t let it happen!” Peter declares, but Jesus knows what is in store for Peter.
We think Jesus’ response to Peter is quite harsh - kind of like a verbal slap in the face – but he can’t allow Peter to think like a child at this point. We don’t know the other disciples reactions, but we can guess they would be similar to Peter’s. We all realize our lives have a human ending, but why knowingly go into a trap that will bring your own about? It would be like committing suicide.
Six days later, after nearly a week of hurt and confusion, Jesus takes Andrew, Peter, James and John, the four fishermen, the first four disciples of the twelve chosen, up a mountain. What was Jesus’ purpose?
There are two sites where it is believed the transfiguration took place, Mt. Hermon in Lebanon and Mt. Tabor in Israel. Jerome Murphy-O’Connor describes Mt. Tabor in his Holy Land archaeological guidebook as “The perfect breast-shape, Mt. Tabor excites awe and wonder; it has the aura of a sacred mountain” (Jerome Murphy-O’Connor, “The Holy Land”, p. 412). In the part of the Galilee where it is found, there is nothing in the land around it that resembles it. The rest of the countryside is low valley and rolling hills; all of a sudden this huge shape appears: it must be holy.
In the 21st century your big bus drops you at the bottom of the hill, and you must take a smaller jitney to the top of the mountain around winding roads. You can also hike up, but it takes quite a bit more time than the 20 minutes or so to get to the top by vehicle. And then, when you arrive, you are surrounded by a profoundly transcendent silence. Being there last summer, I remember feeling the way I do every Christmas before the beginning of the “Messiah” concert, in the moment after the orchestra has tuned it’s instruments, and we are waiting for the conductor to appear, suddenly from stage left. We all know what’s coming, but still, there is a moment, literally seconds, full of anticipation: the audience is absolutely silent, and then the door opens….
The view from the top of Mt. Tabor is awesome: the Jezreel Valley to the south, a place where countless battles have been fought, and unnumbered people have died, is now dozens of farmer’s fields, a patchwork of colour as far as you can see. On a very clear day, you can see Har Meggido, the site of Armaggedon, to the west. And all around you are these low hills, covered with a mix of ancient and modern homes – and all the political turmoil that comes with them. Except for the modern roads and new settlements, this view would have been much as it was when Jesus took the four up Mt. Tabor.
Suddenly Jesus’ face begins to shine like the sun on a bright day, and his clothes become dazzling white. Then Moses and Elijah drop in for a chat. Finally a cloud envelopes the entire scene, and A Voice is heard, the same voice from Jesus’ baptism, telling the disciples ““This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” (Matt 17:5).
After the confusion and hurt and upset of the previous six days, Peter’s first reaction is to build homes for the three holy men. Let’s stay here forever! We can avoid Jerusalem and be happy and all will be well. But then, hearing the Holy Voice coming from the cloud sends all four men to the ground, quaking in fear. Confronted with that kind of scenario, I’d be inclined to fall face down on the ground from fear as well. And who of us wouldn’t?
Sometimes the experiences of life are too difficult to bear. Faced with reality our first inclination is to avoid the bad news by finding a way out: let’s stay here, make time stand still, let’s not go where we know things will be hurtful. Avoiding the problem is just not practical. But getting help is not what God tells the disciples to do; instead God says “listen to him”. Listen to him. How can that be helpful?
Listen to him means hearing the difficult news as well as the wonderful; it means accepting the good as well as the bad. It means knowing that some of our lives will be lived on the mountaintop where Celtic people speak of "thin places" (Lyndale, 2 Feb 02) that exist between heaven and earth, but knowing – and accepting - that most of our lives will be lived in the valleys, where the light fades faster, even on sunny days, and shadows fill up the hollow places and darken our way. We know we can visit the mountaintop; but we must live in the valley.
I believe Jesus took the disciples to the mountain to witness his transfiguration to give them a glimpse of heaven in that “thin place”; to give them the assurance that all would ultimately be well, but in the meantime, they had to face the reality of what was to come in their collective journey to the Cross. It’s the same information we need to hear during our difficult times: there is hope in the resurrection, that’s what we will learn through these next few weeks of Lent. We have been given a glimpse of heaven from the mountaintop to carry us through the valley of the shadow of death. “Listen to him” God tells the disciples; Jesus tells them “fear not”. We need to listen to Jesus.
AMEN.