I am grateful for this space. One day again soon, I will write here. Today is not the day for it, but soon. Peace be with every one of you.

Sermon for Transfiguration Sunday, Year A, February 23, 2020

TRANSFIGURATION SUNDAY

FEBRUARY 23, 2020

MATTHEW 17:1-9

“A TRANSFIGURATION, A TOUCH”

¹Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. ²And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. ³Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. ⁴Then Peter said to Jesus, "Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah." ⁵While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, "This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!" ⁶When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. ⁷But Jesus came and touched them, saying, "Get up and do not be afraid." ⁸And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone. ⁹As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, "Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead."

A sonnet entitled, Transfiguration, from British poet, Malcolm Guite.

For that one moment, ‘in and out of time’,

On that one mountain where all moments meet,

The daily veil that covers the sublime

In darkling glass fell dazzled at his feet.

There were no angels full of eyes and wings

Just living glory full of truth and grace.

The Love that dances at the heart of things

Shone out upon us from a human face

And to that light the light in us leaped up,

We felt it quicken somewhere deep within,

A sudden blaze of long-extinguished hope

Trembled and tingled through the tender skin.

Nor can this blackened sky, this darkened scar

Eclipse that glimpse of how things really are.

                                                                        Malcolm Guite, Transfiguration

A glimpse of how things really are.

What a curious thing to say about the transfiguration. I say it’s curious, because the transfiguration confounds us, and defies easy explanations. We don’t necessarily understand it or know what to make of it. So, what does the poet mean?

In the moment of Transfiguration on the mountaintop, heaven touches earth, divinity is embodied in humanity, and in Jesus we see what God intended the perfect creation to be. Engulfed in light; emanating light; becoming as light, there is Jesus, the fully human Jesus touching his disciples to calm their fears as he radiates his unity with the divine light. Life on earth how it was meant to be. A glimpse of how things really are.

And yet, at the same time a glimpse of how far we are from how it was intended to be when God, in infinite wisdom and a sudden burst of creativity spun the stars into the heavens and exploded life on earth in the garden which is now a distant memory. Perfection was imparted into every facet of creation, including humans, in the perfect love of the divine creator – who created in love. Creator and creation in perfect unity, but now, as we are all to aware, a creation beset with war and anger, a thirst for revenge, a lust for unchecked power and complete domination, all too imperfect, all too flawed. Creator and creation separated by a divide, a chasm that cannot be filled by the most righteous of efforts of the offspring of God’s love. Except by intervention of the God/Human, Jesus, child of God, child of Light, child of Mary, the embodiment of the perfection God intended.

Such a blending of human and divine is foreign to us in our modern existence. We don’t see it. We don’t experience it. It is almost inconceivable. What we so more often see is the imperfect human side of life. The parts of us, deep within the recesses of our being where little light shines that are envy, jealousy, insecurity, and even enmity. We have felt that envy for the blessings of another – their athletic grace, their physical beauty, their wealth beyond our attaining. We are familiar with our jealous preoccupations with the ability of another to be witty and smart. We are pierced at times by our insecurities that remind us we are not as good as, not as much as that successful person. We have known the heat of anger because we simply hated another human.

These are the parts of life with which we are more familiar; which we experience in ourselves and in others. The disciples were not unlike us, you know. They lived in the milieu of negative human behaviors and emotions and experienced such themselves. Thus, we know that they had ambitions to sit next to the throne of Christ in eternity, to be the best of the best of the disciples.

They too, like we, did not necessarily know what to make of a Jesus transfigured before them in a shower of light and divinity. And so they cowered. They covered their eyes and their heads. They fell to the ground. They feared. And they retreated. It was only when Jesus reached down and touched them that they were comforted. When his human hand made contact with them, their humanity was settled.

And then it dawned on them to worship. In the presence of the God/Human Jesus who emanated the holiness of the One creator of all that is in a moment in time before their very eyes they thought to stop, worship, honor, commemorate. It was a moment in time like no other had experienced before. Maybe worship was the only thing they knew they could do.

When heaven and earth are transfigured in the One, in this Jesus, who touches us with healing and wholeness, perhaps worship. And then, his hand, lifting these disciples from their cowering pose, leads them down the mountain. Down from the place of worship and into the place of real life, as we are fond of calling it. Outside the walls of the church. And in their descent from heaven come to earth in Jesus, the man with whom they walk, he says to them, tell no one what you just saw, what you heard, how you felt. Keep it a secret unto yourselves, until after I die. And they know right away, yes, they are certain of it, he just told them he would die while they were yet alive in that real world at the base of the mountain.

And what does that mean that he will die before their eyes? Didn’t they just witness glory? Didn’t they hear the very voice of God? Doesn’t that change things? He was transfigured in their presence for goodness’ sake! Doesn’t that change everything?

Does wealth and power still prevail if he is gone? Is might still right when Jesus returns from earth to heaven? Are the weak left to the mercy of the powerful? Are the poor to remain poor?

Didn’t heaven and earth come together in this man just at the moment they reached the pinnacle of the mountain? Did not Moses and Elijah bear witness to the awesome and unchecked governance of the Prince of Peace?

Tell. No one. Until I am gone.

A transfiguration. A touch. Voices of prophets. The thunder of God. And then, silence.

When you are atop a mountain sometimes you are surrounded by clouds. I went to Mt. St. Helens in Washington in 2005. The higher I drove the deeper I was in the clouds. Visibility was almost nil, but it wasn’t dark. The sun above the clouds shone through, but that didn’t help my seeing, until at once the car exited the cloud and the bright sun was all around, and there in the distance was the volcano as clear as it could be.

You can see a long way from the top of a mountain. You can see all the way to a cross on a hill far away. Jesus did. Tell no one until I am gone, he told them. And down the mountain they went back among the people clamoring for health and wholeness, clamoring to be free from slavery to ruthless masters, clamoring for a messiah to save them and take away all the earth and leave only heaven behind.

But that cannot be. Yet. In Jesus, earth and heaven touched, and in his glory he was transfigured on that day so long ago, atop that mountain that seems light years away from us.

And so we worship, and we wait, and we pray, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

Nor can this blackened sky, this darkened scar; Eclipse that glimpse of how things really are. Come, Lord Jesus, come.