The Rev. Josh Shipman
The Last Sunday after the Epiphany, Year C, 2015
Luke 9:28-36
Every time I read today’s
account of the Transfiguration,
I think of a joke I know:
There was a man
stranded on a desert island
for a number of years.
Finally, one day,
a boat comes sailing into view.
The stranded man waves frantically
and catches the attention
of the skipper.
The boat comes docks,
and a sailor gets out,
greeting the man.
The sailor notices something
interesting though:
the man has built three huts.
So, he says, “I thought you
were alone here. Why do you have
three different huts?”
“Well, the first hut is my home,”
the man replies,
and the second hut is my church.”
“Well, what in the world
is the third hut,”
the sailor asks.
“Oh,” the man replies,
“that’s where I used to go to church.”
(pause)
There’s nothing inherently funny,
in the Transfiguration story—
quite the opposite, actually.
Except, perhaps, for that Peter fellow.
Imagine him,
childlike, in a sleepy stupor,
rubbing his eyes.
Enthusiastic:
“Master, it is good to be here!
Wow! Look at all this glory!”
Practical:
“Now, if you’ll just let me
run down to the Home Depot,
I can build you a tiny house—
and one for each of your friends!”
Confounded:
“…not knowing what he said.”
(pause)
As I was working on this sermon,
I posted on Facebook,
“Oh, Peter, what will you say next?”
And one of my friends replied,
“I love Peter.
He was the goof who was
always saying the wrong thing.
I relate.”
I have to admit,
I felt a bit defensive about Peter.
“He’s not a goof!” I thought.
“He was just sleepy!”
(pause)
But the truth is,
he nor any of the other disciples,
including John and James, got it.
And we don’t always get it either.
One commentator, writing
on this pericope (or selection from the Scriptures),
points out how many people
choose to focus on the
“mountaintop experience”
of the Transfiguration.
I read several commentaries
that fell into this vein,
talking about “mountain top” experiences,
personal epiphanies, etc.[1]
Even one of my favorite writers and preachers,
Frederick Buechner falls into this trap.
He writes,
“It was the holiness of the man
shining through his humanness,
his face so afire with it
they were almost blinded.
Even with us
something like that happens
once in a while.
The face of a man walking
with his child in the park,
of a woman baking bread,
of sometimes even
the unlikeliest person
listening to a concert, say,
or standing barefoot
in the sand watching the waves roll in,
or just having a beer
at a Saturday baseball game in July.
Every once and so often,
something so touching,
so incandescent,
so alive
transfigures the human face
that it's almost beyond bearing.”[2]
(pause)
A beautiful, poetic reflection,
and one that is true.
But there’s more to this story.
Luke is the only Gospel
that records the topic of conversation
amongst Jesus, Moses, and Elijah:
Suddenly they saw two men,
Moses and Elijah, talking to him.
They appeared in glory
and were speaking of his departure,
which he was about
to accomplish at Jerusalem.
(pause)
Where this Transfiguration experience
is situated in the Gospel,
may aid our understanding.
Earlier in this chapter of Luke’s Gospel,
Jesus says, “The Son of Man
must undergo great suffering,
and be rejected by the elders,
chief priests, and scribes,
and be killed, and on the third day
be raised.”
And then, he adds,
If any want to become my followers,
let them deny themselves
and take up their cross daily
and follow me.”
Immediately after our Transfiguration scene
Luke reports that the disciples
were unable to cast out a demon from a boy—
a demon that caused the boy to maul himself
and to shriek and to convulse.
Jesus, exasperated
with his disciples,
heals the boy himself.
And there was much rejoicing.
And Jesus said to his disciples,
“Let these words sink into your ears:
The Son of Man is going to be betrayed
into human hands.”
And the disciples did not understand.
(pause)
This is what Jesus and Moses and Elijah
were discussing: Jesus’ Departure.
The commentator I mentioned earlier
says this:
“Luke uses the term eksodon,
exodus, to describe Jesus' trip to Jerusalem
and the events that would unfold there.
More than simply referring
to a physical "departure,"
there is [a] clear allusion
to the saving acts of God
in the exodus
as he led the Israelites to freedom
from under the slavery of Egypt.
This detail moves this entire experience
from a "mountain top" religious experience
that is usually associated with positive emotions
and joyful response
to a much more somber tone
as the shadow of the cross
lengthens over this scene.”[3]
(pause)
How appropriate is this reading, then,
on the cusp of a new liturgical season?
On this Sunday that used to be called
Quinqugesima Sunday or Shrove Sunday—
part of a pre-Lenten season.
The glory of the Transfiguration
giving way to the glory of the Cross.
(pause)
There’s more though.
Isn’t there always?
Peter wasn’t misguided
because he wanted to build shelters.
It’s cold on a mountain, you know!
He was misguided,
because you can’t do mission in one place.
So that the scripture might be fulfilled,
they had to move on.
They had to climb down that mountain,
and turn their faces toward Jerusalem.
And so do we.
We’re not stranded
on a desert island, here.
And we can’t be content
to dwell here in our tabernacle.
Or in any other place
we might build for ourselves,
literally or metaphorically.
Activist and Presbyterian minister,
Claudio Carvalhaes,
writes,
“Our world is dashing the poor
against the rocks of despair,
hunger, and abandonment everyday.
The economic beast controlled by few demons
is making our people convulse day and night.
The homeless, the immigrant, the incarcerated,
those mothers who work three jobs
to make a minimum wage to feed three, four kids,
they are like that boy [from Luke’s Gospel],
thrown into the shadows of our society,
convulsing day and night right in front of us!
And we, who seem to not know
anything about the transfiguration of Jesus
or our own transfiguration (metamorphoses)
are looking at these people while asking Jesus:
can we dwell in our worship tabernacles
basking in your glory,
away from the people and their pressing needs?
Unless we get out of the fortress
of our worship spaces,
and rebuke the unclean spirits
of the powers that be,
and shed light into the lives
of the poor of our communities,
we will never know what transfiguration means.
Glory will be an unknown word and experience.”[4]
(pause)
There is a frightening world out there,
in need of a transfiguration.
On Ash Wednesday,
we are going to take some steps,
some baby steps, if you will,
to enter it.
In between services,
we aren’t going to venture far,
just outside those doors—
the doors with the sign that say
“You are now entering the mission field.”
We’re going to bring our liturgy
to the entire community
with Ashes to Go.
Snow or shine,
we’re going to impose ashes
and have genuine conversations
with the people of this city.
And next month,
and the months ahead,
by the grace of God,
we’re going to go even further
into the mission field.
This is the Transfiguration message.
This is the way to dispel
the clouds of darkness and gloom.
This is the way to break the chains of sin and death
This is the way of the cross.
This is The Way.
Let these words
sink into your ears.
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