Matthew
17:1-9
Transfiguration
Sunday: March 2, 2014
I think we can all agree that
Peter, James and John got in on something pretty extraordinary that day on the
mountain. It’s a little harder to agree
on exactly what it was. Transfiguration. Moses and Elijah, long dead, sitting with
Jesus and chatting away. The voice of
God thundering from the sky. It’s all a little
bit far fetched.
Due to distance of both time and context,
we’re not likely to relate to this scene very well. We sort of wonder if it’s true. We live post Enlightenment. We know it’s really not possible for Moses
and Elijah to appear out of thin air. We
don’t see people all of a sudden shine, without special effects. Why, we ask of passages like this one, did
the author write about this? Did they believe it really happened? Are they just telling us a dream they had one
night?
It’s hard to know how to relate to
these fanciful stories, and I worry that’s a problem for us. When the disciples experienced all this,
they were brought to their knees in terror.
When we read this we feel confusion, maybe amusement, maybe boredom.
Given this, we have a couple of
options. One is to spend time learning
about the context in which Jesus and the authors of the gospels lived. We can study history and Hebrew Bible
theology. Then, using that information, we could try as best we can to put
ourselves in their shoes so we might have a sense of what all this meant and
why they responded the way they did.
That would be useful, but probably best left to a class that would last
for weeks.
Instead, this week, I looked for something
I could relate to. I decided the way in to this passage and what
it might mean for us was to start with something I understand.
And the thing I could understand
was the fear. I could relate to the fear
of Peter, James, and John. Pretty
easily, in fact.
I don’t know exactly what the
transfigured Jesus meant to them, or what they thought when they saw Moses and
Elijah, but I do notice that this was not what frightened them. In fact Peter was so enthralled that he
wanted to put down roots and hang there for a while. No, that isn’t what scared them. What scared them were the words of God.
“This is my son, the beloved; with
him, I am well pleased; listen to him!”
“Listen to him.” Whether or not I can imagine being on that
mountain with the disciples, I get why this simple command was so
frightening. Think about what’s been
going on for the disciples. They have been following Jesus for quite some time
now. As we know from the last few
Sundays, they heard the sermon on the mount – calling them to a way of life
that is virtually impossible. They had
watched Jesus do incredible things. They
saw a growing movement to stop Jesus.
And right before this trip up the mountain Jesus told them that to
follow him they had to deny themselves, take up their cross, lose their life.
Now, God, in all God’s glory, is
asking them for complete obedience to this man they have been following; and that
was terrifying.
That I get. That I can understand. The disciples’ fear at
hearing God’s unequivocal call into the life Jesus lays out – be perfect as God
is perfect. Deny yourself and take up
your cross. Lose your life. That’s what Jesus has been telling them, and
God says, “that’s right…listen to him.”
I read the bible; I think about
what it all means for my life; I listen to the words of Jesus, the commands of
God; And then I look at how my life
measures up. It’s about right then that
the fear starts bubbling up inside.
I can handle living a relatively
“good” life. Following the laws, being
kind to others, loving my daughter, going to church. I don’t do any of those things perfectly – parenting
is a constant stream of humiliating errors – but good enough that I basically
get a stamp of approval by our society.
Living a faithful life is a whole other story. I’ve never seen an extraordinary vision on a
mountain top, or heard God’s voice booming from the sky, but there are
absolutely times I get slapped in the face – where something interrupts me and
says, “you have another path to follow…right here, right now.” And the quaking begins.
Sometimes it comes from a trusted
friend. Sometimes it’s a person who
risks calling me to my higher self.
Sometimes it’s my conscience.
Sometimes it’s scripture.
Whatever it is, it stops me in my tracks as much as if God had spoken to
me directly. And when I accept the truth
– the truth of what I’m called to do – I tremble in fear (or more specifically
for me, my stomach starts to do somersaults.) Give everything to the poor. Welcome the stranger. Love and include the outcast. Love your enemy. These all go a bit beyond being a good
citizen in our day.
I love my daughter, which is
good. But then I hear the call to give
beyond what’s safe. When I think about
giving more I’m terrified because it would make me less secure…it would make my
daughter less secure. I give what I do because I know it’s right, but I don’t
do so without fear.
I follow most of the laws, but I’m
terrified of Jesus’ command to love my enemy – to turn the other cheek. I’m basically kind to others but I’m afraid
to think about all of the suffering in the world that I ignore because I just
don’t feel up to the task of true compassion.
I’m afraid because listening to
Jesus almost always involves giving up control.
It often requires admitting I was wrong, or apologizing for
something. Sacrifice is a theme – being
asked to give my time, my money, my privilege, my ego.
When I let the voice of God in –
when I’m reminded of the life to which I’m called if I claim Jesus as my savior
– fear is a response I can relate to. I
think about giving more…but fear stops me.
I think about going to help people in the poorest parts of our world,
but fear stops me. I think about
reorganizing my life so I spend more time with strangers and outcasts and less
time with people like me, but fear brings me up short. I think about all the people who put their
lives on the line for what they believe, and fear keeps me from even getting to
the point of considering that for myself.
I get the fear.
So I’m there with the
disciples. Kneeling down on the
mountain, trembling in fear. What
happens next, given the power of my fear, sounds almost comical. Jesus walks over, touches them and says, “get
up…do not be afraid.” Given the enormity
of what they felt, of the implications of what just happened, I find it hard to
believe that it was enough to just have Jesus say, “hey – don’t be afraid.”
I can’t help but wonder if those
words are empty. They aren’t really
magical words for the disciples. Just to
give away the ending, they are still plenty afraid after this. They get more and more afraid the closer
Jesus gets to Jerusalem until finally they flee in fear. It obviously wasn’t good enough for them to
have Jesus tell them “do not be afraid.”
Why would it be good enough for me?
Well, the disciples didn’t flee
right away. They walked down the
mountain with Jesus into the valley – in to the melee. Maybe being gently touched on the shoulder
and hearing comforting words from the one they were following was enough for
the next step. They would have preferred
to stay on that mountain with Moses, Elijah and Jesus forever. Build tents, fasten the whole thing
down. But after Jesus tells them to get
up and to not be afraid, they go with him.
So, maybe I have enough faith to
just take the next step. Maybe those
words, “do not be afraid,” settle into my heart enough – to make a phone call,
to reach out to someone, to dare to speak my hopes to people who may not share
my beliefs. Maybe I can give just a
little bit more. Maybe I can expand my
worldview without feeling like I have to fix everything at once. Maybe I can courageously stand by my
convictions in a small group of people even when it’s unpopular.
“Get up,” the voice says. You can do it.” Don’t be afraid.”
I don’t always take the step – I
don’t always overcome my fear. But
sometimes I do. Sometimes I reach in and
give a little more even when it scares me.
Sometimes I pipe up and offer the unpopular idea. Sometimes I let in the suffering of people
half way around the world. Things don’t
always go as planned – I might even fail.
And the frustrating truth is sometimes I am wrong about what God’s will
was. But almost always I’m glad I did
it. Trying to be faithful is itself a
powerful thing. And it is, in the end,
all we can do.
The commandments of God can be
scary. It’s scary to really listen to
Jesus and live what he teaches. But in
the end, I don’t think Jesus expected his words to cure the disciples’ fears
about what was to come next. I think he
was speaking of something larger. I
think he was saying that though the path is hard, God’s will for our world is
not to be feared.
The world God intends – the world
Jesus offered to the disciples as a possibility – that is not to be
feared. That is the hope. That is
God. It’s God’s realm, it’s God’s
intention, it’s the very essence of God.
And rather than cause fear, it can be the motivation to act even when
we’re afraid.
“Listen to him,” God says. But not just to make our lives hard – to make
our lives reflect the intention of God – like Jesus did. And that reflection is not to be feared. It’s meant to sustain us as we live sometimes
faithful lives. So, get up, and do not
be afraid. Amen.
