Thus says the Lord:
In a time of favour I have answered you,
on a day of salvation I have helped you;
I have kept you and given you
as a covenant to the people,
to establish the land,
to apportion the desolate heritages;
saying to the prisoners, ‘Come out’,
to those who are in darkness, ‘Show yourselves.’
They shall feed along the ways,
on all the bare heights shall be their pasture;
they shall not hunger or thirst,
neither scorching wind nor sun shall strike them down,
for he who has pity on them will lead them,
and by springs of water will guide them.
And I will turn all my mountains into a road,
and my highways shall be raised up.
Lo, these shall come from far away,
and lo, these from the north and from the west,
and these from the land of Syene.
Sing for joy, O heavens, and exult, O earth;
break forth, O mountains, into singing!
For the Lord has comforted his people,
and will have compassion on his suffering ones.
But Zion said, ‘The Lord has forsaken me,
my Lord has forgotten me.’
Can a woman forget her nursing-child,
or show no compassion for the child of her womb?
Even these may forget,
yet I will not forget you.
See, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands;
your walls are continually before me.
Isaiah 49:8-16
Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then 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.’ While 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!’ When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, ‘Get up and do not be afraid.’ And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone.
As 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.’
Matthew 17:1-9
Will you pray with me? Gracious God, you offer us your living Word. May we reflect upon it together today. May it nourish us and challenge us as together we consider your love and your challenge before us. In Christ's name we pray. Amen.
Every year just before Lent we arrive at the reading for the Transfiguration Sunday and the odd story you just heard about Jesus and the three disciples going up the mountain. At the 8:15 service somebody just sort of sat there like this (with his arms folded) and that's what a lot of us pastors feel like when this Sunday comes around. What am I going to do with this? It's such an odd story and there is no way around it. Is it a historical and literal event or is it symbolic? Is it the story of a mysterious vision or of a “thin place,” a time when events from the past seem to fold into the present and the future? What I mean by a thin place is a time or a moment when things seem to transcend just what is going on before you. They can be experiences that are powerful and unsettling. Every year one of the farmer's wives in Pacific would say to me that after all the seeds had been planted in the field, there was one particular day when she could almost feel creation coming forth through the soil. It was a moment of a miracle as creation prepared to bloom forth.
For me it has happened when standing near the bridge of Lexington and Concord, recalling one of the earlier battles of the Revolutionary War. I experienced it, too, in the Old North Church where Paul Revere hung the lantern. A moment when the past seemed to shimmer on the surface of the present. It was a place in time and out of time. Bruce Epperly, who is a pastor, talks about the origins of thin places and that expression. “The Celtic Christians and pagans used to talk about them as moments translucent to the divine, a place where heaven and earth meet and where God seems to be present,”1 and it also applies to moments that are both of time and beyond time.
I think today's reading certainly feels like the description of a thin place, a moment both awe inspiring and unsettling. The four of them had walked to the mountaintop and it is significant that that is what is talked about—the mountaintop—because that's often seen as a place where heaven and earth seem to come closer together. There they witnessed Jesus being transformed in his face and in his clothing. Then there is the unexpected appearance of Moses and Elijah. Now oddly enough the three of them seem to take these things all in stride and Peter even suggests building dwellings for Moses and Elijah and Jesus so they can stay a while. But when a cloud overshadows the sun and they hear the voice of God, they become terrified.
Now we might want to think about why and what's been going on just before this moment. In the chapter just before this reading, Jesus tells them that he is going to die and they have become very upset by his words. But they journey on, and there on the mountaintop, something happens. The word used in Greek is metamorphosoo, Jesus is transformed. And I think it's a moment of revelation and realization. God's words are very specific: This is my beloved Son. Listen to him. I think God is talking about more than just physically hearing. God is saying Pay attention. So it's not only a transformative time for Jesus but also for the disciples who are with him. Jesus realizes, though, that they are overwhelmed and as they lie on the ground, he says, Do not be afraid. Get up. And as they go down the hill he says to them, Don't tell anyone about this until after I have risen from the dead, because he realizes they can't really understand the meaning of this moment until after he is gone.
While the words of God may have startled them, they are certainly not unfamiliar words. This is my beloved, listen to him occurs ten times in the gospels and epistles. They are words that speak to us of God's deep love for Jesus. The words that Jesus speaks, don't be afraid, are words of faith that echo from the earliest days of Jewish faith, and they are words about the promise and presence of God throughout time and space. I think this point is a turning point for them, when they become more aware of the challenges that will come before them. In this thin place, it is as if the disciples meet the past and the present and are being prepared for the future. The past stands before them in Moses who had led the people out of exile into the promised land. Elijah represents the many prophets who called them back to faithfulness, back to the deep faith that started with Abraham and Sarah. Jesus shares the faith with them in those days and Jesus will share it with them until he is crucified and risen. They want him to stay, that's why Peter offers to build the dwellings. But they are reminded at this point that they will be carrying on his teachings. So in going up and coming down from that mountain, I think they come to know in a profound way that following Jesus will involve both mountaintop and valley experiences.
So what does this strange story have to say to us today? I think in part, it's a reminder that faith does not mean we are to stand still but to be open to being changed. In Corinthians, Paul reminds us that when we are in Christ we are transformed. We become somebody new. We are in Christ and Christ is in us. I started thinking about the fact that we have this saying in Presbyterianism, about being both reformed and reforming, that as the Spirit moves, we see things in new ways. We understand that slavery is not an acceptable way to treat human beings even though it exists in the Bible. We come to realize that the sacrament of communion is not only for those we deem acceptable but for anyone who feels called to the table.
So as we consider a church that is reformed and reforming, maybe we as individuals are supposed to be transformed and transforming. We experience baptism. We make statements of faith, but we are called to continue to be transformed. Faith is not static. It is an ongoing act. Indeed the word faith in Greek is pisteo. It's not a noun, it's a verb. We do not in many ways possess our faith. Through the Spirit our faith possesses us and it shapes us. And the experiences by which we live out our lives can be those that transform us and deepen our faith. There are moments that can be as simple as walking in the midst of God's creation and sensing the life and breath of the Creator all about us. It can be looking at the stars in the heavens and realizing the light we see from some of them shone centuries ago. The past meeting the present. It can be in the birth of a child or the healing that comes from being fed and renewed at this table. Liz shared with us the story of many work campers who say such experiences are life-changing and transforming. Such moments fill us with gratitude and healing and hope and deep and profound joy.
I thought about how an event this week revealed the power of faith to move in the world and transform us. The desecration of nearly 200 graves in a Jewish cemetery reminded us that destruction can even bring us together. It can transform us into people of action and prayer and concern. It brought together over 2,000 people at that cemetery. It brought together nearly 3,000 people who gave at the Go Fund Me page started by Muslims who wanted not only to offer money, but a sign of healing through that gift. So out of that moment of darkness came the light of hope and peace, of comfort and community. It was a moment of transformation that helped us remember that faith can bring us together even when we are from different traditions and beliefs, in order to do, as scripture says, that which is good. It wove together conservatives and progressives and it brought together a Christian vice-president and Jewish governor. It brought together people into one spot for one day for the shared purpose of acting to right a wrong and offer healing and hope.
A member of our congregation was there and she wrote this on Face Book: It was profoundly moving to be part of the clean-up at the cemetery and the interfaith service that followed. There were people of all ages, children to the elderly, and all faiths—Protestants and Catholics and Muslims and Jews. The outpouring of support was incredible. I saw a man in an electric wheelchair and an elderly nun, a woman with a walker and women wearing hijabs. I spent most of my time in tears, not of sadness but because it was so powerful to be surrounded by those who were reaching out with love to counteract the darkness. It was a moment of transformation.
The disciples on that mountaintop experienced joy and fear. They heard and saw the light of love and transformation. They learned and were reminded that faith would not only sustain them in moments of awe and wonder but also in the valleys of death and fear. As those who are to be transformed and transforming, we are reminded that faith can be both a challenge and a source that empowers and engages us. Faith is life giving and it is about living out our faith by allowing the light and love of God to shine through us.
I'd like to close with the words of hope from Isaiah that Tom read this morning, words offered to the people in the wilderness of exile: The Lord has comforted his people and will have compassion on those who suffer. Isaiah tells us God said, I will not forget you. I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands. Your walls are continually before me. May we live as if we believe this. Amen.
1 From Rev. Bruce Epperly, “Living A Holy Adventure,“ The Adventurous Lectionary: the Transfiguration” for February 26, 2017 as found on Textweek.com.