Last Sunday after the Epiphany: The Transfiguration – Feb 11, 2024
Mark 9:2-9
Jesus is transfigured. Moses and Elijah appear and then strangely disappear. Peter is perplexed. James and John are silent. God speaks. The disciples are overcome with awe. Jesus tells them to say nothing about what has happened! Mystery and divine presence are pervasive in our stories for today. So, what is the message for us?
On Transfiguration Sunday, we come to the end of another church season, the season of Epiphany. You may recall that the Greek word for “epiphany” means disclosure, manifestation, unveiling or appearance. So, how appropriate that our gospel story for this week describes one of the greatest “epiphanies” ever — the transfiguration of Jesus, complete with blinding light, a heavenly voice, and visions of Moses and Elijah. Having seen the lights of Epiphany, we prepare now for the long shadows in the valley of Lent.
The Transfiguration is a fitting story to transition us to Lent because it insists that we keep what was and what can be in tension. The Transfiguration represents change, a crossing of a threshold. At its core, the Transfiguration insists that change is difficult but necessary. Once God says, “this is my Son,” a declaration that we get to overhear, it propels us into a life, a way of being, that manifests the Kingdom of God for all to see.
We suspect Peter is caught in that suspension between wanting things to stay the same and knowing that change is afoot. But we, just like Peter, also try to stay where we are. That’s the safe option, after all. Same. Staid. Solid. I get it. Especially when we see what we have known, on which we have relied, in whom we’ve believed, all crumbling before our very eyes.
Whether these disintegrating edifices are our churches, our denominations, our democracy — or our relationships, our communities, our country — too often our only options in response appear to be pop up tents, quick fixes, provincial vision statements, or nearsighted adaptations — none of which actually trust in a future that God holds.
Jesus had talked about the doorway to the future, having to pass over a threshold of loss, and suffering, and death: death on a cross. The disciples and many of Jesus’ other followers were not able to hear this. They didn’t want to hear this.
When Jesus took his disciples to the mountaintop they came to see Jesus “in a different light.” The Jesus who accompanied them down the mountain was profoundly different from the Jesus who led them up there. And even though they did not fully understand what had happened to them, they knew that THEY were not the same men who had followed Jesus up the mountain. A threshold was crossed.
We remember the Transfiguration of Jesus today to remind us all about our own transfiguration. “Christ lives within you.” That is what we say. So, today is also a reminder about your own transfiguration.
After all, life is lived in the valley, not on the mountain top. Things are different between the two. If you read ahead a bit in Mark’s gospel, the contrasts are stark. [Read Mark 9:14-24]
On the mountain, we encounter almighty God;
in the valley, there is an encounter with the demonic.
On the mountain we encounter our faith’s heritage;
in the valley, we encounter those who consider questions of faith as occasions for battle.
On the mountain, God’s calming voice is heard;
in the valley, human argument is heard.
On the mountain, disciples are in a mood for worship;
in the valley, the disciples are spoiling for a fight.
On the mountain, the glory of God is revealed;
in the valley, the power of sin and unbelief is revealed.
Notice, that Jesus came down. Down into the valley of everyday life. Jesus came down.
Why is this important? Jesus’ downward movement from his rightful place in glory to embrace our lot and life, out of love, is in a very real sense, the essence the gospel.
Finally, a story about a shipwreck. The lone survivor washed up on a small, uninhabited island. He cried out to God to save him; and every day he scanned the horizon for help, but none came. Exhausted, he eventually managed to build a rough hut and set up a place where he could at least sleep and try to survive. But one day, after wandering off to hunt for food, he came back to find his little hut in flames, the smoke rolling up into the sky. The worst had happened, and he grieved and despaired. Early the next day, however, a ship drew near the island and rescued him. “How did you know I was here?” he asked the crew. “We saw your smoke signal,” they replied. It’s about perspective.
Jesus came down the mountain, out of love, to share in our lot and life. God speaks in the midst of our everyday lives, here in the valley; God speaks into the middle of our messes; God speaks in the ordinary. May we remain open to hearing and listening to that voice. God’s promises are real.
God has great things in store for us all. God, Emmanuel, is with us, to transfigure our own darkness and the darkness of the world in which we live. Jesus abides with us; that’s his promise, always, even to the end of the ages. Amen.
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