Luke 9:28-36
“Holding on for Dear Life”
February 27, 2022 Transfiguration Sunday
With arms outstretched, both reaching for each other, those awkward first steps are taken.
That first day of school when the bus pulls away or the door closes.
The sound of the ignition turning over and then they are off, by themselves in the car right after passing their road test.
That first night when they no longer live under your roof and their drawers have been cleaned out and the quiet of the house without them is deafening.
With every milestone of growth and independence, our hearts and our minds turn back to what was.
We may be tempted to ask the question:
How did this happen?
Was all that love and emotional energy invested in them meant to come down to them leaving?
For all of us, who’ve ever parented or been parented, the knowledge that one day the child will leave is both a moment of pride and dread.
We have a lovely handstitched wall hanging at the top of the stairs in the parsonage to that effect.
It says, “There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other wings.
Sometimes it’s all we think about and other times we’re afraid to give voice to it, hoping that by not talking about it, it might not happen.
Today’s mountaintop experience is one of awe and wonder where a potential heavenly vision, the world as it will become is glimpsed. But what is spoken between Moses who is believed to have written the Torah and Elijah who was among the most prestigious of prophets, together embodying the law and the prophets and Jesus who had just finished sharing one of his hardest teachings – that he must suffer, die, and rise again and that followers must take up their cross and follow him amid all of that shining light, may be intended to reassure and encourage Peter, John, and James.
Jesus talks about his departure – the Greek work is exodos or exodus.
Moses is forever bound to the exodus or liberation in delivering the people from Egypt and toward freedom.
It will be Jesus’ life which will be another kind of deliverance or liberation for the people of God.
There they were, these three amazing figures, that keep Peter, John, and James awake in awe.
Maybe overcome by being in the presence of greatness or just wanting to hold onto this moment in all its majesty, freezing it in time or perhaps not fully appreciating the foretelling that Jesus is offering, Peter offers to build permanent buildings in which they can dwell, all in an effort to hold on to what can only be the most surreal experience imaginable.
Luke has a way of drawing us in because he shows Jesus engaging with his disciples and he repeatedly tells the Jesus story from the perspective that it is not Jesus alone but Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and the church are all the main characters of the story.
Back in the story of Jesus’ baptism at the hands of John that we began with in this Epiphany season that ends this week, the very first question asked was “What are we to do?”
Luke wants us as disciples to know that we are intended through the power of the Holy Spirit to “Do something.”
This departure that Jesus speaks of is a way of empowering us, we who remain.
Jesus comes to us, stays among us and also, as is only pointed out in Luke’s version, will depart from us just as he is about to embark on his journey toward Jerusalem.
This Transfiguration is a taste of the resurrection to come.
Jesus’ resurrection will be a departure just as Moses’ was when he led his people out of Egypt.
Jesus is leading his disciples, and that’s all of us away from the known to the unknown.
Jesus is leading us toward a new life.
And we are privy to this experience in a way that those other nine disciples who weren’t on the mountain or anyone else paying attention to Jesus then didn’t.
In Matthew, this transfiguration is described as a vision.
Here we get to witness Jesus and Peter and James and John experiencing God and it is God who once again affirms Jesus as his Son, and it is God who wants these three to realize that when Jesus speaks, they are to listen carefully because that is God speaking.
As we complete the season of Epiphany where we have embraced Jesus as a healer and teacher and prophet, we know that just before what we’ve heard today, Peter has called him “Messiah.”
We are about to depart from this season of light and journey down the mountain into the ashes of this Wednesday, the sorrow and sadness that will take us through Lent, including Holy Week.
But first, before we take off, let us not lose sight of the light that transfigures Jesus. This light we are meant to experience and that means we may need to seek it out.
This is the light that will change us, not into someone else, but by helping us to see within ourselves, finding the best of who we are and what we’re made of.
That may mean digging deep for the strength to cope with the losses and illness and human suffering that we see on our screens and right in front of us.
God’s glory may not shine in white brightness that is immediately obvious.
In fact, most likely it will be more like a small flashlight rather than a hundred-watt bulb.
Perhaps that might be what we will need most to get through the next six weeks of Lent, small luminaries of hope on the path.
Let us pray:
May we give way to glory, O God
May we let the light tangle with our lives
that we may see what you see in us
may we see what you see
a love born in eternity
that find a home in our souls
and wants to be there
a word that lifts itself
from page into life
and tells a story
that begins with itself
may we see what you see
a vision that brings past and future
into the one meeting place
and offers it all as present
a wisdom born of generations
where time nurtures the promise
and the longings of believers
wondering if this will the be the generation that breaks it open
May we give way to glory
and dare its splendor
to rekindle our faith
and transfigure our lives
So be it.
Amen.
(Roddy Hamilton, and posted on Listening to the Stones. http://newkilpatrickblog.typepad.com/nk-blogging/mucky-paws/ )