Christopher Thomas
Sermon for the Last Sunday after the Epiphany, Year B – 2/14/21
2 Kings 2:1-12
Psalm 50:1-6
2 Corinthians 4:3-6
Mark 9:2-9
“Trans-“
“Trans-“
From the Latin: Across, over, beyond.
Implications of a journey. A trip. A path. A course.
To destinations, as of yet, previously unseen, unheard, unknown.
At the very least, to me…
Trans-formation
Trans-substantiation
Trans-literation
Trans-plantation
Trans-gender-ation (I just made that up to see if you were paying attention.)
Trans…journies…trips…paths…courses…curiosities
Today’s journey is the mountaintop experience that Jesus takes Peter, and James, and John (and you and I) upon, as we trek up Mount Tabor once again. But why? Why this Epiphany, this theophany, why now? We know, don’t we, that God is among us, Immanuel. The star landed over Bethlehem, pointing the way. He’s right over there, multiplying fish, feeding masses, curing and healing the sick, giving sight to blind folks, why even raising the dead. Yes, God is most definitely among us, saying and doing all of the things we expect “the Messiah,” our Savior, to say.
All of the things that we expect, that we want done, they all fall so neatly under the canopy “Son of Man,” servant of Creation, wonder- and miracle-worker, those of us “the Messiah” has come to serve. It’s all very prophetic, if you stop and think about it, when “the Messiah” shows up in our time, and in our space, and goes about fulfilling our expectations of “Messiah.”
But have we fully embraced the reality of the divine? Do we really understand the gift that we have been given, the Love (that’s capital L, Love) that came down at Christmas? Is it clear that divinity and humanity have and are conjoined in this one figure, Jesus Christ, Immanuel, God dwelling among us?
It would seem that this point has been lost, or at the very least is not quite clear, and could use a bit of illumination, shall we say, “trans-figuration,” a journey of illumination.
And so, as with any “mountaintop” experience (you know, you’ve experienced these just as I have), you step out of Chronos, chronological, worldly time AND space, thereby allowing yourself to be taken on a journey, suspending disbelief of the impossible, separating from all the connections and cares and concerns and expectations and ties and things that keep you moored in the belief that “…oh, this just can’t be true,” so that you can engage with what’s possible in new and different ways. You step into God’s time, Kairos, opening up to fresh possibilities, dazzling radiances, glowing orbs of light!
“Mountaintop” experiences are precisely that because they are these queer places where earth and heaven seem to meet, the veil is thin, the oxygen scarce, our brains forced out of the mundane as our hearts and souls radiate in pure love.
Real presence.
When earth is stripped away, when Jesus is transfigured, Peter, and James, and John experience what can only be described (because all we have are human words, which at best attempt to describe, and very nearly always fail) as dazzling radiance. And it terrified them, understandably so. Jesus had been telling them, all along, who he was, but they were blind; they could not see. They were blinded by the world. The only way they perceived Jesus, the only way they could define their “Messiah,” was Son of Man.
It’s a “trans-cending” moment! Jesus is not just a prophetic teacher, or healer, servant of humanity, here to save us from the Roman Empire.
Jesus is all that, and…
Son of God!
In that mountaintop moment, Chronos and Kairos intersect, Jesus strips away everything earthly, giving Peter, and James, and John (and us) a glimpse of God.
“This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!”
Real presence.
Terrifying, wonder-making, mountaintop stuff!
It’s no wonder they wanted to build some booths and stay! Wouldn’t we all, when we encounter real presence, want to stay, to bask, to take in, to absorb, maybe even become one with, real presence?
However, as with any “mountaintop” experience, theophanies don’t last forever. We grasp at some piece of real presence, something with which to cling, a photo, a snapshot, as we descend from the mountaintop, back into life, “reality,” the ways and the rules of the world, reemerging in Chronos, human time. But we cling to little pieces, shards of that thin place, hopeful that we might someday encounter it, real presence, again.
I wonder at what point our band of three, Peter, and James, and John, as they reemerged, put together the reality of all that they witnessed, with what they knew Jesus said. What did it really mean for the Son of Man to be conjoined to the Son of God in the transfigured form of Jesus? And what, heaven forbid, would that mean for them? (And God-forbid, for us?!?)
It is sad but at least tolerable to see how this story plays out, from Palm Sunday, through the Triduum of Holy Week, to the eventuality of the cross, when we consider the humanity of Jesus. Humans do horrible things to humans all the time. I’d venture to guess we walk right by the suffering servant every single day of the week, witnessing the “Son of Man” in those we pass.
But what kind of journey do these disciples go on when they now must confront the undeniable reality that the Son of God is headed for the cross? Remember, the Messiah they wanted (and let’s be honest, we do as well) is the one who conquers in glory. “We are right! We are justified! The Empire falls! Whoever we don’t agree with must get in line behind OUR Messiah!” That’s the one we want!
So how in God’s name could our Messiah be headed for the scandal of the cross? That is not the mountaintop we were expecting, or asked for, or wanted. That is not the convenient Jesus.
The disciples deny reality right up to the very end of the Gospel of Mark. They simply cannot allow themselves to see reality. It is just to frightening, to painful, to scary, and to demanding to see that following Jesus, IS the way of the cross. Humanity weds to divinity in moments of glory AND suffering, one cannot be denied in favor of the other. We cannot live on the mountain of glory and deny the suffering of the cross. What God has done for us on Mount Tabor, God will also do for us on Golgotha. We don’t get the great good news of Easter without Good Friday.
Blessedly, we know where we find real presence. Yes, it is this grace-filled exchange that we make, week in, and week out, at this table. This is where we find real presence, the mountaintop! Oh, wouldn’t it be something if we could sit at this table always, every day, and bask in the glory of God’s presence?
We cannot stay on that mountain. God won’t allow it. Jesus’ very life implores it. We must go and meet real presence out there, out in the world. Jesus is out there, all around us, in all kinds of ways that, if we are honest, we CAN imagine.
This weekend alone, the temperature in North Texas will not rise above freezing. How many Jesuses will we pass on the street, not even seeing, or worse yet, seeing the humanity and not the divinity? Or have we so “suburbanized” ourselves that we don’t even see the Jesuses out there? We have a Black Lives Matter banner in front of our church, but what are we doing, individually, and as a group, to recognize the humanity AND the divinity of people who are not like us, in this case, people of color? How are we recognizing the real presence, the divinity, in everyone who is not us? And what are we doing about it?
All things considered, I can see why transfiguration is a pretty scary thing. It says a lot about Jesus. But, as usual, it says even more about us.
Son of Man
Son of God
Amen.
