Sermon Text

February 14, 2010
The Transfiguration of Our Lord

WHICH MOUNTAIN?
Luke 9:28-36

It was a trying time, both for the disciples and for Jesus. They had travelled together around the region of the Sea of Galilee for months. Jesus had taught, had healed people, and had survived confrontations with the religious authorities. All along the way, he had tried to bring the disciples along, to help them to understand what it was they were part of, the monumental undertaking of forgiveness, the inauguration of a new humanity, the offer of new life.

Putting it kindly, the disciples were slow to understand. In recent days, Jesus had spoken about how the words, attitudes, and actions of people may say more about their piety than the ritual dietary laws they may follow. The disciples' response was, in effect, "Huh?" He had cautioned the disciples not to trust the leaven of the Pharisees, who kept on pushing Jesus for outward signs of authority, but who had no real interest in his message of radical compassion. The disciples couldn't figure out why Jesus was talking about leaven when they didn't even have any bread with them. Their response was, "Huh?"

Oh, there were times when they saw him more clearly. When Jesus asked them what other people were saying about him, they reported that some thought he was Elijah or Jeremiah or some other one of the prophets, while others thought that he was John the Baptist, his head back on his neck! When he asked them what they thought, Peter replied, "You are the Messiah --You are the Christ." But when Jesus began to tell them about what being the Christ was going to mean, about arrest, trial, crucifixion, and death, they didn't want to hear it. Peter got angry with Jesus and Jesus got angry with Peter, and Jesus had to say it over and over again: following him was going to involve danger and sacrifice.

It is at this point in the Gospel accounts that we find the story of the Transfiguration. It is placed here as an encouragement to the disciples, and to the Church of later years. It was badly needed encouragement. When things are going OK, we have no trouble singing:

I ask no dream, no prophet's ecstasy,
No sudden rending of the veil of clay, . . ."

But at the midnight of despair, in the pit of grief and hopelessness, it is understandable for us to ask that just a corner of the veil be lifted, so that we can see some of that shining glory, instead of just the sweat and blood. Even those of us who live on the bright side of Easter need some nourishment other than the thin broth of memories, or stories of events long past. We are tempted to fall into the trap of the T-shirt I saw not long ago that proclaimed, "I'm fed up with reality! What I'm looking for now is a good fantasy!"

We must have hope. As the Roman scholar, Cicero, wrote, "Where there is life, there is hope." But if that is true, then it is equally true that where there is no hope, there is no life . . . there is only death.

Fortunately, hope doesn't need a lot to keep it alive. The Biblical proverb reminds us that a cloud the size of a person's hand quickens hope for a drought's end. The doctor has only to say, "I think we got it all," or "His pulse is stronger now," and hope goes leaping into tomorrow. The hold that hope has on life is so tenacious that even almost empty phrases like, "No news is good news" can keep us waiting by the telephone all night long. But hope needs sustenance. Without sustenance, hope tends to turn in and feed on itself. Different words creep into our minds: "Be realistic." "Quit looking for miracles." "Admit you are wrong and go home."

When Jesus talked with his disciples about suffering, death, and the cross, they couldn't handle it, any more than we would have been able to -- any more than we can. They were not nimble theologians like some who are abroad today, able to convert Jesus' hard sayings into a gospel of success, prosperity, and oblivious happiness. The disciples didn't need advice on how to remain cheerful, or help toward the Power of Positive Thinking. They needed a glimpse through the curtain to see if this is all there is! And so he led them up on a high mountain, and he was transfigured before them.

What did this event accomplish, for those first disciples, and what does it accomplish for us today? For one thing, the disciples are told (are we are reminded) that this transfigured Christ, this one standing there with Moses and Elijah, the Son confirmed by God's own voice, is going to the cross. The order here is important: glory, then the cross. Jesus' glory does not come in spite of the cross; it doesn't even come through the cross. The cross is the destination toward which Jesus' whole ministry moves. And Easter isn't so much the evidence of Christ's glory as it is God's vindication of the One who died on Good Friday.

Mountains loom large in the Biblical story. From Noah landing on Mt. Ararat, to Moses on Mt. Sinai, to Elijah on Mt. Carmel, to Jesus' Sermon on the Mount, the mount of transfiguration, the mount of crucifixion, the mount of the ascension -- mountains are Biblical milestones of important events. On which mountain will we meet Jesus?

As we gather here on the verge of the Season of Lent -- the season of self-examination and preparation for the remembrance of Christ's atoning death -- we must decide if we, the church, still identify with those disciples, high on visions and miracles but low on suffering and crosses. Luke's church obviously needed to hear the message of the cross. Perhaps they were on the brink of persecution. Perhaps they had adopted a crossless religion that promised them happiness and prosperity. We don't really know.

But it is important for us to decide on which mountain we are going to meet Jesus, on the mount of transfiguration, or on the mount of crucifixion? In a world of unspeakable misery, tragedy, dislocation, hunger, and oppression, there is no question where Christ is. He shares in the suffering. Will we join him there, or will we not be able to handle that kind of Christ?