Sacred Ground

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

February 11, 2024

Year B: The Last Sunday after the Epiphany

2 Kings 2:1-12

Psalm 50:1-6

2 Corinthians 4:3-6

Mark 9:2-9

Sacred Ground

Many of you know that I took some vacation time last week. I was out in San Francisco for a few days, just in time for the torrential rains – the so-called “atmospheric river” - that soaked the California coast.

The worst of the rain hit San Francisco last Sunday.

That morning, I woke up to the pouring rain and the howling wind. I reconsidered my plan to walk up to Grace Cathedral – the grand Episcopal church that sits at the top of swanky Nob Hill.

I thought about what it would be like to walk up the steep hill to the Cathedral, certain that my flimsy umbrella would be no match for this fierce storm.

I imagined finally reaching the cathedral, soaked, chilled, and exhausted.

I also thought, I mean, I go to church all the time – so maybe I could sit out this one Sunday.

But then I thought of you, how so many of you manage to get here even when the weather isn’t so great, even when it might be tempting to just stay in bed, to roll back over and get more sleep, or just take some time for yourself, maybe pouring a leisurely second cup of coffee.

So, I prepared for the storm as best I could and ventured out.

As it happened, the storm let up a bit as I huffed and puffed up California Street – and it felt good to reach Grace Cathedral, to once again step onto that sacred ground - to enter that holy place – to take in its vastness and early morning quiet.

The service was beautiful – the congregation welcoming and seemingly happy to be there, despite the weather.

I had the rare-for-me experience of being a person in the pew – or the chair, actually – totally anonymous and not having to worry about what I was going to say or do next.

By the end of the service I had just about forgotten about the storm outside.

But when I reached the cathedral doors, the wind was whipping around the top of Nob Hill, the rain was coming down in great sheets, and I could plainly see why they call it an “atmospheric river.”

A bunch of us waited in the cathedral vestibule, looking out nervously for any sign of let up, checking the weather app on our phones to get the latest forecast.

But finally, one by one we faced reality, zipping our jackets and pulling up hoods, opening our umbrellas, stepping out into the raging storm, getting on with our lives, leaving the safety and serenity of the cathedral and making our way down the hill.

And now here it is a week later and I’m back on our holy hill, on sacred ground, with all of you.

It’s the Last Sunday after the Epiphany, the final Sunday before the start of Lent on Ash Wednesday.

And, as we do on this day every year, today’s gospel lesson takes us up yet another holy hill, to sacred ground.

We heard the story of the Transfiguration as told by the Gospel of Mark.

Jesus and his “inner circle” of disciples – Peter, James, and John, head up the mountain for some time away, away from all those people hunting for Jesus, hungry for his teaching, begging for his healing.

While they’re up on the mountain, Jesus is transformed before their eyes – his clothes whiter than any white – and he is joined by Elijah and Moses, two towering figures of Israel’s past.

What does one say or do in response to such a vision?

Well, Peter makes the totally reasonable suggestion of building dwellings for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah. Maybe he’s thinking, let’s try to hold onto this moment for as long as we can.

No sooner does Peter propose this capital project then a cloud overshadows them all and the voice from heaven declares,

“This is my Son, the beloved, listen to him!”

And then, after the voice grows silent and the cloud and Elijah and Moses vanish, it’s time for Jesus to head down the mountain and face all that awaits them: the Cross, the Tomb, and New Life.

But before we move on, I’d like to circle back to Peter and his mountaintop building project.

When Peter proposed the dwelling places for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah, he was probably recalling the exodus of his Israelite ancestors from Egypt, when God would meet with Moses in what was called the “tent of meeting.”

Up on the mountain, Peter recognized that God had come among God’s people once again, and so it seemed right that some kind of shelter should be constructed on this sacred ground.

I think Peter should get half-credit for this.

He’s not wrong but the truth is even more amazing than he can yet grasp.

In and through Jesus, God has come among us again – come among us as one of us.

But Jesus sanctifies much more than just a piece of mountaintop real estate.

Jesus, God’s Son, makes holy the parts of the world that are obviously beautiful like Grace Cathedral on Nob Hill in San Francisco and St. Thomas’ Church here on our little hill above Garrison Forest.

But Jesus doesn’t just stay up on the mountain.

No, Jesus, comes down the mountain, down into the depths and the mess, down into the storms of life, making holy the parts of the world – the parts of our lives - that might not seem beautiful at all – the places of suffering, fear, and death.

I’ve been fortunate to visit San Francisco a bunch of times, and over the years, I’ve discovered places I like to go each time, different restaurants and parks and walking routes.

But when I planned this trip, I decided I wanted to see and do some things that I hadn’t seen and done before.

So, I attended a beautiful concert by the San Francisco Symphony.

And I also visited the Tenderloin Museum.

If you know San Francisco, you may know that the Tenderloin has long been the city’s Skid Row – the neighborhood where the poor and the addicted live, either in Single Room Occupancy hotels or just out on the sidewalks.

Frankly, it’s one neighborhood that I’ve always avoided.

After all, I was on vacation – and I certainly don’t have to travel across the country to witness poverty and despair.

But I was intrigued by the Tenderloin Museum, interested to learn more about this seemingly God-forsaken neighborhood.

Of course, to get to the museum, I had to walk the streets of the Tenderloin and, while I wasn’t afraid, I was certainly on alert and it was painfully sad to see so many people camped out on the sidewalk, imprisoned by illness, by addiction.

The museum itself, however, is a bright, clean, modern space.

I was the only visitor at the time.

It was so quiet in there – even prayerful.

Making my way around the exhibits, I learned about the neighborhood’s history, how it had long been home to oppressed and marginalized groups – waves of newly arrived immigrants, gay and transgender people – people who fought for their rights, doing the best they could for themselves and their neighborhood.

And the museum had information about some of the Christian congregations and organizations that have stuck it out in that challenging soil.

Sure enough, Jesus is in the Tenderloin, too, making it sacred ground.

There’s Glide Memorial Church, a formerly Methodist church that has long thrown open its doors to the poor and the hurting and advocated for their well-being.

And there is St. Anthony’s Mission.

Back in 1950, a Franciscan priest named Father Alfred Boedekker opened St. Anthony’s Dining Room. On the first day he expected to serve 150 meals and ended up serving 400. And they’ve been at it ever since, just like our own Paul’s Place, gradually expanding their menu of services, shining the Light of Christ on a place long neglected – a place not God-forsaken at all, ground made sacred by Jesus Christ the Son of God.

Since Lent begins on Wednesday, you may have been making plans for what to give up or to take on during that holy season.

After my San Francisco experience, after my trip up and down the mountain, I’m going to ask God to remind me that God has come among us in Jesus Christ, who has made the whole earth – from swanky Nob Hill to the suffering Tenderloin – has made all of it - sacred ground.

Amen.

 

Glimpses of Mutual Joy

St. Thomas’ Episcopal Church, Owings Mills MD

August 6, 2023

The Feast of the Transfiguration

Exodus 34:29-35

Psalm 99

2 Peter 1:13-21

Luke 9:28-36

Glimpses of Mutual Joy

Today is the first Sunday of August, which of course means that in a little while we’ll offer birthday and anniversary blessings – including an anniversary blessing for Barritt and Gay Peterson who celebrate their 40th anniversary today!

The start of August also marks the beginning of a seasonal shift – we felt it last week after strong storms ushered in thankfully somewhat cooler and less humid weather.

And we’re starting to see a slightly different slant to the sunlight and, sadly, the days are beginning to get noticeably shorter.

This seasonal change is bittersweet, of course.

The teachers and students in the room may have decidedly mixed emotions – sadness about summer winding down, anxiety about a new school year, but also excitement about reuniting with friends, classmates, and colleagues – another chance to teach, to learn, and to grow.

It’s been twenty years since I was a teacher but I still feel echoes of those feelings. I even have a recurring dream in which, panicking, I suddenly realize that I haven’t gathered any grades - that it’s been a really long time since I’ve given my kids a quiz or a test! How could I have forgotten something so important? What am I going to do?

And then I wake with a start and remember that was all long ago.

But I still have that bittersweet feeling – sadness about summer slowly drawing to a close but also excitement about the fall – and, this year, special excitement about everything that’s coming up here at St. Thomas’, starting with the completion of the beautiful new roof and our return to church.

In at least one respect, this upcoming fall is going to be different from any I’ve ever experienced as a priest.

We have a lot of weddings coming up in September, October, and November.

I’ve certainly never had so many weddings in such a short time – for the first time it’s forced me to take detailed notes when I’ve met with each couple so I can keep everybody clear in my mind.

And especially these days when fewer people get married in church, and the ceremony is often officiated by a friend or family member who was “ordained” online (no judgment from me but the “priest union” is firmly opposed to this practice!), it’s rather extraordinary that all these couples want to be married here – to have their unions blessed by God in this holy place, witnessed by family and friends.

Probably like most clergy, I guess, I have a couple of basic wedding sermons that I adapt to the situation, trying to make it as personal as possible (that’s why I need the notes).

And in one of my wedding sermons I reflect on the expression “mutual joy.”

If you’re familiar with the Episcopal marriage service, you may remember that near the start, the officiant reminds everyone of the purposes of marriage – “for the help and comfort given one another in prosperity and adversity; and when it is God’s will, for the procreation of children and their nurture in the knowledge and love of the Lord.”

But, before and above any of that, the Prayer Book declares that the very first purpose of marriage is “mutual joy.”

So, often in my wedding sermon, I’ll point that out – the most important purpose of marriage is mutual joy.

But mutual joy is not just for married people.

No, it’s been God’s great desire from the start that all of us – whether we’re single, married, widowed or divorced – all of us are meant live lives of mutual joy.

This is something we often forget, of course.

And so, every once in a while, God offers us a reminder of the way things we’re always meant to be – glimpses of mutual joy - mountaintop experiences like when a couple exchange some big promises, as Barritt and Gay did forty years ago, as couples will be doing throughout the fall here at St. Thomas’.

Glimpses of mutual joy.

In addition to the first Sunday of August, today is also the Feast of the Transfiguration, the day we remember an extraordinary mountaintop experience – a preview of Easter - a glimpse of mutual joy.

In today’s lesson from the Gospel of Luke, we’re told that Jesus and his disciples Peter, James, and John go up the mountain to pray.

Suddenly, Jesus’ appearance is transformed, his clothes now dazzling white.

Jesus is then joined by Moses and Elijah, those two towering figures of Israel’s past.

Luke tells us the topic of their conversation –they discuss Jesus’ upcoming “departure” – actually, Luke uses the more resonant word “exodus” – linking what Jesus is about to accomplish in Jerusalem to the Passover and the liberation of the Israelites from slavery.

That’s already quite a lot for one mountaintop experience – so powerful and moving that Peter, reasonably but wrongly, wants to hold on to it for as long as he can, offering to build shelters for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah. 

But, Peter can barely get those words out before an overshadowing cloud appears and the disciples are understandably terrified. 

But the voice from heaven simply says, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”

And then, as suddenly as this mountaintop experience began, it was over – the voice from heaven was silent and Moses and Elijah were gone.

Now it was time for Jesus and his disciples to come down the mountain and begin the journey to Jerusalem and all the disappointment and suffering and sorrow – and, finally, the Easter joy – that awaited them there.

But, no matter what lay ahead, Jesus and his friends would not forget this mountaintop experience – this preview of Easter – this taste of heaven – this glimpse of mutual joy.

One of the great privileges of my job is to meet with couples to help them prepare for their wedding and, much more important, for married life ahead.

It’s always touching to hear how they met and what they love about each other and why they’ve decided to make this big commitment.

The wedding day is surely a mountaintop experience for the couple and for those who love them, but just like for Jesus and the disciples, eventually they – we – must come down the mountain and face the challenges and difficulties of everyday life.

It’s why one of the most important moments of the wedding service is when all of us in the congregation pledge our support to the couple, pledge our support especially during the inevitable hard times that they, like all of us, will have to face.

It seems to me that our great challenge is to remember – to remember that all of us – no matter our marital status – all of us are meant for mutual joy.

And we experience mutual joy when we obey the command that God spoke from the cloud and listen to Jesus.

We experience mutual joy when, with God’s help, we try our best to love everybody, even the people we’re not too crazy about, even our enemies.

We experience mutual joy when, with God’s help, we give generously, giving of ourselves, giving away as much as we can.

We experience mutual joy when, with God’s help, we ask forgiveness when we’ve messed up – and when we offer forgiveness when we’ve been wronged.

And, no matter the season, we experience mutual joy when, with God’s help, we remember – remember the days of big promises and great joy – when we remember those mountaintop experiences when we’ve gotten a glimpse of what life is all about: mutual joy.

Amen.

Remember

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen, Jersey City NJ

Church of the Incarnation, Jersey City NJ

August 6, 2017

The Feast of the Transfiguration of Our Lord Jesus Christ

Exodus 34:29-35

Psalm 99

2 Peter 1:13-21

Luke 9:28-36

Remember

            It’s a little hard for me to believe, but, I’ve been a priest for almost ten years and so, by now, after having celebrated the Eucharist many hundreds of times, quite a few of the words of the service are etched pretty deeply in my memory.

            Like, for example, the words of absolution I say after we make our confession of sin.

            “Almighty God have mercy on you, forgive you all your sins through our Lord Jesus Christ…”

            But, a couple of months ago at our 10:00 service, something unusual and a little unnerving happened.

            Maybe some of you who were here noticed it.

            After we had knelt and made our confession, I stood up as I always do and began to say those familiar words, “Almighty God…”

            But then my memory failed me and I completely forgot the rest of the words. It all just flew out of my head.

            In my confusion, I managed to string together a few sort of similar words that I trust got the job done – God’s going to forgive us no matter what I say or don’t say – but, it really bothered me that I had forgotten something that I thought I had known so well.

            I think I was probably just tired or distracted and, fortunately, I haven’t noticed any other memory problems, but in that moment I had just a small, confusing taste of what it’s like to really forget, to lose one’s memory.

Of course, like probably all of us, I’ve known people, including some people I’ve loved very much, who as they aged grew forgetful or confused, and some who developed full-blown dementia.

            It’s a terrifying and deeply sad thing, right?

            It’s terrifying and sad for lots of reasons but one of the big ones is that, to a large extent, it’s our memory that makes us who we are.

            Thanks to our memory, we know who we are and whose we are.

            Thanks to our memory, we know who we love and who loves us.         

            But, the truth is, even if we’re in perfect health, it’s sometimes hard to remember these most important things, especially when the going gets tough, especially when there are so many distractions, so many pressures, and so many fears, especially during times of (as today’s collect says), “disquietude.”

            Today we celebrate, we remember, the Feast of the Transfiguration.

We remember this mysterious mountaintop experience - a preview of Easter, a glimpse of heaven - when Peter, James, and John see Jesus transformed before their eyes, and witness the appearance of two of the greatest biblical figures, Moses and Elijah.

These three disciples get to overhear a conversation between Jesus, Moses, and Elijah – a conversation about Jesus’ “departure.”

            Even the often-dense Peter realizes that he has witnessed something remarkable, so he wants to memorialize this experience by building three shrines, one each for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah.

            No sooner does Peter get this perfectly reasonable suggestion out of his mouth, than the experience becomes even more awesome when they – and we – get to hear the voice of God say:

            “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”

            And, then… it’s over.

            This powerful, mysterious, literally awesome experience - a preview of Easter, a glimpse of heaven - lives on only in memory.

            Jesus and his disciples came down from the mountain, and continued the ministry of teaching and healing, this holy work that will be so very threatening to the religious and political leaders that they’ll plot against Jesus, arrest him, torture him, and finally kill him.

            Jesus will “depart.”

            During those hard days it must have been so difficult to remember the preview of Easter that Jesus and his friends had glimpsed on the mountain – hard for his disciples to remember and maybe even hard for Jesus himself to remember.

            And even after the empty tomb, even after Easter, even after the Ascension when Jesus “departed” again, back when the Church was so small and struggling for survival, during those days of “disquietude,” it must have been hard for the first followers of Jesus to remember all of those amazing experiences, all of the puzzling sayings and miraculous healings, even hard to remember the mountaintop experience with Moses and Elijah and even the voice of God.

            But, they did remember – just like the Jews, they remembered by coming together to tell their stories over and over again and eventually writing them down and reading them and copying them and spreading them around so that even when individual memories faded and failed, the stories – the Story – would never be forgotten.

            As an example, today’s second lesson comes from what we call the Second Letter of Peter, and was probably written around the year 100, maybe even later than that, written long after the Apostle Peter was dead, written by a faithful Christian who heard, remembered and wrote down the story of the Transfiguration, which has been passed down to us.

            Thanks to our memory, we know who we are and whose we are.

            Thanks to our memory, we know whom we love and who loves us.

            The Church is a community of memory.

            And, I don’t know about you, but in our time with all of its distractions, pressures, and fears – in our time of so much fast-paced change and so much noise and oh so big challenges, in the midst of all this “disquietude,” sometimes I feel like I’m in danger of forgetting more than just the words of absolution.

            Sometimes, even as a “professional Christian,” I feel like I’m in danger of forgetting the big stuff, forgetting the stories, forgetting the Story.

            So, we gather here in church week after to week is to have our own little mountaintop experience, to get a preview of Easter, a glimpse of heaven.

We come here as a community of memory to remember – to remember the old but somehow always new stories – and, especially, to remember who we are and whose we are – to remember who we love and who loves us.

            Amen.

The Transfiguration: An Overlook

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
February 14, 2010

Year C: The Last Sunday after Epiphany
Exodus 34:29-35
Psalm 99
(2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2)
Luke 9:28-43a

The Transfiguration: An Overlook

I have a question - when you’re driving on a highway and you see a sign that says “Scenic Overlook Ahead” do you usually take the time to pull over and check it out?

I never do. Maybe it’s because I’m focused on getting to wherever it is I’m going or maybe having lived nearly my whole life in the city I’m just not that interested in scenic views. But whatever the reason I always just keep on driving right past the scenic overlook.

Sometimes, though, I’m not the one driving so it’s not my choice on whether we stop to look at the scenic overlook.

For example, on our J2A pilgrimage to California – about a year and a half ago now – I was happy to let Chris Wilde drive our large rental van up and down the coast of California. I remember one day we drove pretty far south on Highway 1 – the curvy road that hugs the Pacific Coast.

Near Big Sur we spotted a scenic overlook and Chris pulled over so we could take a look. It was nice to get out of the van to stretch my legs, but I remember thinking we’ve all seen the Pacific Ocean these last few days – you’ve seen it once you’ve seen it all, I thought.

Boy, was I wrong. It was spectacular looking down the steep drop to the ocean, watching the waves crashing onto the narrow strip of beach and slamming into the cliffs. We looked down at the pelicans as they looked down into the ocean on the hunt for something tasty. Once the pelicans spotted something worth the effort, they dove straight down into the ocean like missiles and then back up again with a presumably full gullet.

That scenic overlook gave a glimpse of the big picture – the truth that we live in a world glowing with God’s power. That overlook was one of those moments when I thought, it’s so good to be alive, to live in God’s beautiful world and to be able to do this work here and now.

I was glad that Chris had made the decision to pull over and check out that scenic overlook.

Sometimes we stumble upon scenic overlooks without seeking them out.

You all know about Overlook Hospital in Summit. I’ve been there a few times to visit parishioners – but I definitely don’t know it nearly as well as Morristown Hospital and I don’t think I ever consciously thought about its name – Overlook.

Anyway, a few months ago I went to visit someone at Overlook Hospital and I must have made a wrong turn and ended up in an unfamiliar hospital parking garage. It was nearly full so I had to park on the upper deck. By the time I parked and got out of the car I was very irritated at myself for having gotten lost and annoyed that I’d have to walk what looked to be about three miles to the hospital. I never bothered to look around at my surroundings.

After the visit I walked back the three miles to my car but by now I had calmed down. When I got to my car, I looked up and discovered this spectacular view – the city of Summit and the hospital called Overlook lived up to their names.

Down below I saw the New Jersey Transit trains snaking along the side of the cliff as they made their way in and out of Summit. And then I looked out to what from this height looked to be a vast plain stretching all the way to the skylines of Newark and New York.

I just stood there for a few minutes – standing atop what I later learned is the Second Watchung Mountain. Once again this overlook gave me a glimpse of the big picture – the truth that we live in a world glowing with God’s power. That overlook was one of those moments when I thought, it’s so good to be alive, to live in God’s beautiful world and to be able to do this work here and now.

Today we’ve come to the last Sunday after Epiphany – the season between Christmas and Lent when each week in church we retell the stories that manifest Jesus’ identity and power.

We began with Epiphany itself when the wise men recognize Jesus’ identity as king. Then we retold the story of Jesus’ baptism when he heard the voice from heaven say, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

We heard two stories in which Jesus is revealed as a sign of God’s power and abundance – first, he turned water into fine wine at the wedding at Cana and second he told his fishermen friends to cast their nets on the other side, where they haul in the catch of their lives.

We imagined Jesus in his hometown synagogue telling the congregation that he was the fulfillment of prophecy.

For these past few weeks we’ve told epiphany story after epiphany story and on this last Sunday after Epiphany we tell two stories. These are Epiphany stories but they are also overlook stories.

First we tell the story of Moses coming down off the mountain with second set of tablets containing the law. In a powerful image, the author of the Book of Exodus tells us that since Moses had been so close to God, his face shined. His face shined so much that the Israelites were terrified and Moses covered his face with a veil.
Moses had the ultimate overlook experience on Mt. Sinai. In the most dramatic way imaginable, Moses saw the big picture - that we live a world glowing with God’s power. And Moses is marked by this encounter on the mountain.

The second story is the story of the Transfiguration. Once again it’s an overlook experience – Jesus takes Peter, John and James up on the mountain to pray. There the three disciples see Jesus transfigured and talking with Moses and Elijah. As if that weren’t enough for one overlook experience, they then hear the voice of God, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”
J
esus had heard very similar words at his baptism – but that was private, just between God the Father and Jesus the Son. This time God speaks publicly - the three disciples hear this confirmation, this manifestation of Jesus’ identity and power.
The three disciples have a powerful overlook experience. They saw the big picture – that we live in a world glowing with God’s power. They recognized that God’s power was present in a unique way in God’s Son, Jesus.

So who can blame Peter for wanting to commemorate this event, to hold on to this overlook experience, by building shrines right there on the mountain.
Who can blame Peter, because the truth is that these overlook experiences are fleeting, we come down off the mountain and back to what seems like the humdrum, the routine, the everyday.

After Moses came down off the mountain, he and the Israelites still had a long journey, filled with wrong turns and betrayals, before reaching the Promised Land. And Moses himself won’t quite make it the journey’s end. Who could blame Moses if in the difficult days ahead he yearned for that time on the mountain with God – that overlook experience when he saw the big picture – when he experienced God’s glow.

And after Jesus and his disciples came down off the mountain, Luke tells us they are immediately thrust back into the messiness and the pain of life – a boy is sick and the disciples are powerless to help. Only Jesus has the power to heal him.
Who could blame Jesus and his disciples if they yearned to be back up on that mountain – back having that overlook experience seeing the big picture, seeing that the world is glowing with God’s power.

I think most, if not all, of us have had these overlook experiences. Even at low elevations there are moments in life when we glimpse the big picture – when we see the world is glowing with God’s power.

Maybe it was falling in love, or the birth of a child. Maybe it was reconnecting with an old friend, or experiencing the joy of helping someone in need. Maybe it was asking for and receiving forgiveness. Maybe it was hearing a beautiful piece of music or looking at a night sky filled with stars.

All of these can be overlook experiences – times when we glimpse the big picture. The challenge is how to hold on to these experiences when we return to the messiness and tedium of everyday life.

And that’s where Lent comes in. Starting on Wednesday, when ashes on our forehead remind us of our total dependence on God’s power, we are given the opportunity to slow down, to be mindful, to pay attention, to sacrifice, to take on some new ministry or service.

Lent gives us the opportunity to bring the epiphanies – the overlook experiences – into our daily lives. Maybe that happens by coming to one of the quiet and simple weekday services here. Maybe that happens by living more mindfully – taking the time to appreciate the ordinary overlook experiences of our lives – the food that we eat, our health, our friends and family. Maybe when we see the sign “Scenic Overlook Ahead” we pull over and check it out.

The Epiphany season is drawing to a close and Lent is about to begin. That means all sorts of changes here at church and maybe in our lives. But, the truth is, all of the church seasons are designed for one purpose – to help us see the overlook experience that is life itself. To help us see that we live in a world glowing with God’s power – and to recognize God’s power uniquely present in Jesus – King of Kings, Son of God, sign of God’s abundance, and fulfillment of prophecy.

Amen.

Transfiguration: A Preview

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
February 3, 2008
Year A: The Last Sunday after Epiphany

Exodus 24:12-18
Psalm 2
Matthew 17:1-9

Transfiguration: A Preview

Today’s gospel offers us the familiar, mysterious story of the Transfiguration. It’s a brief story with some quick, powerful, vivid images. Jesus with three of his disciples up on the mountain. The face of Jesus shining like the sun – his clothes dazzling white. Elijah and Moses appearing. Peter very sensibly suggesting they memorialize this big day. And then, as if all this weren’t enough, the voice of God declares “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!”
There is a lot going on here – and it’s hard to make sense of it all – it all happens so quickly. As I’ve thought about it I’ve come to realize that the Transfiguration is not so important on its own. In fact, the Transfiguration is really kind of like a movie preview. The Transfiguration just gives a glimpse, just a taste, of what’s to come.

Now, if you still go to the movies you know that previews have gotten kind of long – and most of the time they pretty much tell the whole story of the movie – or at least show most of the best, or funniest, parts. The Transfiguration isn’t that kind of a sneak preview. Bear with me, but the Transfiguration is actually a little bit like the preview for the new Star Trek movie.

Yes, Star Trek. I don’t know if any of you are Star Trek fans. Or if any of you will admit that you’re a Star Trek fan! I’ll admit that I’ve been since I was a kid – not quite a put on pointy ears and go to a Star Trek convention kind of fan – but I was an eat my dinner in front of the little black and white TV and watch Star Trek reruns kind of fan. Anyway, in December a new Star Trek movie with new actors playing Kirk and Spock and the rest will be coming out.

And a few weeks ago they started showing the preview. The whole thing lasts less than a minute. It starts out with a shot of a welder at work and then there are shots of what looks like some kind of metal and odd angles and then at the very end there is a glimpse of the familiar starship Enterprise and we realize we’ve been watching the ship being built. And across the screen flash the words “Under Construction.” OK, I admit to having watched it a few times online. And I admit that it’s a very effective preview – I can’t wait to find out more about the movie and to see it in December.

Transfiguration - a sneak preview. Just a glimpse. Just a taste. A preview of what’s to come. Under construction. Transfiguration.

Just as we’re about to begin Lent, the Transfiguration is a preview of the glory of Easter. It’s a preview of the glory of resurrection. It’s a preview of the glory of Heaven. Transfiguration is a last little alleluia before we enter a season of penance and sacrifice and later the great joy of Easter. It’s a preview – we can’t see the whole picture yet. It’s just a glimpse of what’s under construction for Jesus and a glimpse of what’s under construction for all of us.

The Transfiguration is also a call for us to pay attention. It’s a call to mindfulness. Just as I’ve carefully studied that Star Trek preview over and over to pick up clues about the movie, we are all called to pay close attention so that we don’t miss the glimpses, the previews of the glory that is to come.

I’ve noticed that very often these glimpses, these previews of glory, happen in the midst of suffering. Maybe God knows that’s when we need the encouragement – it’s when we need the hope. The evangelist Matthew seems to understand this. He places his Transfiguration account right in the middle of a bleak part of his gospel. Matthew reports that the Pharisees and the scribes continually try to trick Jesus with their questions. They are trying to figure out how to get rid of the troublesome rabbi. And Jesus himself has begun to predict his own death – to the shock and dismay of his disciples. Jesus has told them, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”

Yes, for Jesus and his followers the storm clouds are gathering on the horizon. The realization is sinking in that Jesus’ ministry is going to cost him and cost his followers a great deal. And it’s at this time of anxiety and fear that Jesus, Peter, James and John have this mountaintop experience. It’s at this time of anxiety and fear that they get a preview of the glory that is to come.

Of course, the Transfiguration doesn’t make all the bad stuff go away. Even there on the mountain Jesus has to say to the disciples, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And we know all the suffering that Jesus and his followers had yet to face. But in the midst of anxiety and fear and suffering the Transfiguration is a glimpse, a preview of what’s come.

Some of you know that everyone who hopes to be ordained spends time training as a chaplain – usually in a hospital. It’s called Clinical Pastoral Education – CPE. IT was the most intense and most valuable part of my whole seminary experience. I did CPE at Christ Hospital in Jersey City for most of one summer. Talk about a time of anxiety and fear! I was anxious working in a hospital with surrounded by sick and sometimes dying people – people who were looking to me for comfort, hope and sometimes unfortunately even looking to me for answers. I was anxious and afraid. And, of course, many of the patients, their family and friends were anxious.

And yet in the midst of all that anxiety and fear when I prayed and paid attention I was able to experience some real Transfiguration moments. I was able to glimpse the glory of God. I was able to get just a taste of what awaits us. I was able to see what God has under construction for all of us.

I remember an old woman in the hospital who was dying. It wasn’t a good death; the doctors were trying to keep her alive and so she was enduring a lot of suffering. I visited her day after day – often she was confused and would speak nonsense. But one time her eyes cleared, she looked at me intently and I’ll never forget what she said. She looked at me like it was the most important thing she ever said, and she whispered, “I never knew I could love my children so much.”

There was another patient, a woman, about my age. She had clawed her way out of desperate poverty in Jersey City, gone to college, gotten a good job, and then was diagnosed with breast cancer that despite all the treatments was spreading throughout her body. She was one of the people the nurses called “frequent fliers” – she was in and out of the hospital all the time. I talked to her for many hours. She was skeletal and in great pain. Her family was mean and uncaring. She had every reason in the world to be angry and bitter. And yet this woman who had so much suffering and anxiety and fear once said to me that she used to ask God “why me? And then when I saw all the other sick people in the hospital after a while I began to ask God, why not me?”

There are other stories I could tell you, but my experience in Christ Hospital with those two women has stayed with me. In a time of fear and anxiety through them I was able to glimpse God’s glory – to get a preview of what God has under construction for all of us. I was able to glimpse the power to love more than we could ever imagine. I was able to glimpse such humility that in the midst of great suffering asks why not me?

I don’t need to tell you that we live in a time of great anxiety and fear. The problems of our world sometimes – maybe usually - seem insurmountable: The desperate poverty, the polluted environment, the widespread hatred and violence. Many of us are concerned about the economy. In conversations around church I’ve come to understand just how fragile finances are for many of us.

And, of course, the church isn’t immune to anxiety and fear. During the weekday services we read all the names on the parish prayer list. It’s a long list. And each time it reminds me just how much suffering and anxiety there is here in our community. And, although this is the healthiest church I’ve ever been part of, at last week’s parish meeting we acknowledged a dip in attendance and financial concerns. And regardless of finances the start of a building project is always a time of anxiety.

And so just as Jesus went to the mountain to pray this is a time for us to pray. This is a time for us to pay attention. This is a call to mindfulness.
And if we pray, if we pay attention, if we are mindful, I believe – I know – that we will glimpse our own transfiguration. If we look around, if we keep our eyes and ears open, we will see a preview of the glory that God has under construction.

Transfiguration and Transformation

House of Prayer Episcopal Church
Year B: The Feast of the Transfiguration
August 6, 2006

Exodus 34: 29-35
2 Peter 1: 13-25
Luke 9: 28-36
Psalm 99

Transfiguration and Transformation

Well, sisters and brothers, it’s always nice to come home to House of Prayer! And it’s especially nice to be here for Transfiguration, one of the major feasts of the church. I’m sure that most of us have something really special planned for this afternoon – maybe a traditional Transfiguration dinner and then later we’ll exchange Transfiguration gifts? I see Stella is here, back from Florida. I know she has a big Transfiguration party tonight. I wasn’t invited, though. I guess it must be “out of sight out of mind…” I’m sorry that this year I didn’t get around to sending out Transfiguration cards…you know, it’s been kind of busy…Hmm…you’re looking at me kind of funny. Don’t tell me you don’t have special Transfiguration customs here at House of Prayer!? Oh boy, I’ll have to talk about this with Pastor Judy when she returns!

I’m just kidding, of course. Although it really is one of the most important feasts of the church - maybe because for us it falls in the summer - the truth is that Transfiguration doesn’t get a whole lot of attention. And that’s too bad. Transfiguration is about what happens to Jesus on the mountain. But, Transfiguration is also about what happens to Peter. Transfiguration is also about what happens to us. Peter opens his heart to the power of God in Jesus Christ and he is transformed. And if we open our hearts to God’s power we can be transformed too.

Besides the fact that it’s summertime, I suspect there’s a deeper more troubling reason that we ignore Transfiguration. The scene that Luke depicts in today’s gospel lesson is really mysterious and strange. It’s very hard to explain exactly what’s happening here. We have the familiar scene of Jesus going off to the mountain to pray and Peter and some of the other disciples struggling to stay awake. So far, so good. But then Jesus is mysteriously transformed and then Moses and Elijah appear “in glory” talking to Jesus. And then, as if this wasn’t enough for one night, the voice of God commands, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!” Wow! This is a lot to take in and to try to make sense of. Listening to Luke’s account I think we can hear him straining to come up with the words to somehow describe this awesome experience. And so, since the Transfiguration story is so mysterious and supernatural, we’re more than happy to let it pass by and not spend too much time trying to figure out what all this might mean for us.

And you know what, we can just skip over the Transfiguration… unless of course you’re asked to preach on the Transfiguration! So as I thought about and prayed about the Transfiguration, first of all I realized I was very relieved that Peter was there and that we have a record of what he had to say about all of this. I’m always happy when Peter appears in the gospels because so often he’s a really good stand-in for us. Over and over Peter – this great apostle and saint - tries his best but let’s face it much of the time he really just doesn’t get it. So the good news is that there’s hope for us all!

So, anyway, Peter witnesses this amazing event on the mountain and what’s his response to all that he’s seen and heard? I know, let’s build three booths – one for Jesus, one for Moses and one for Elijah. We’ve just had a wonderful, powerful experience – let’s build a shrine, this way we can come back and remember the Transfiguration year after year.

Now I think this is a perfectly reasonable response. I’m a big local history fan and I enjoy reading historical markers that tell me on this spot in this year something important happened. In fact there’s a historical marker right outside on the front of the rectory telling the story of that old building and the 1887 invention of motion picture film upstairs in the attic. Now that’s some important history, but just imagine if we had seen Jesus, Moses and Elijah out on Broad Street! We would definitely want to put some kind of monument to mark the spot. And each year we would come back and remember that amazing experience. “Remember when we saw Jesus on Broad Street? Were you there? Oh sure, I saw him too. Wasn’t that something?” But the truth is, year by year our memory would fade and eventually all of us who experienced this amazing event would be gone. And our monument would just be collecting dust on the side of the road.

So, Peter’s suggestion is perfectly reasonable. He says, “Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.” And then Luke adds, “Not knowing what he said.” Peter’s suggestion is reasonable, but unfortunately he just doesn’t get it. At least not yet. The Transfiguration is not about marking the spot where exactly these events took place. The Transfiguration is about Jesus, God’s beloved Son, God’s Chosen One. And the Transfiguration is about the transformation that takes place in us when we open our hearts to the power of God in Jesus Christ. The Transfiguration is about the transformation that takes place when we do what the voice of God says – listen to Jesus! Transfiguration is about something that never fades away.

But because we resist opening our hearts to this transformation in Christ, just like Peter we’re more than happy to move along onto next week’s subject.

But this is a huge mistake. Because if we do give in to fear and just ignore the Transfiguration we’re missing out on who we are really called to be. And unless we are transformed by the power of God in Jesus Christ I believe there can be no meaningful and lasting transformation in our lives and in the world. No transformation in us – no transformation in the world. And I think we can all agree now more than ever the world desperately needs to be transformed. The world needs Jesus and the world needs us!

One of the nice things about today’s lessons is that not only do we get to hear from Peter at the Transfiguration; we also get to hear from Peter near the end of his life in the reading from Second Peter. Now we hear from a wiser Peter who has reflected for many years on what he had experienced with Jesus. I’m sure there were times when he wondered if it had all been a dream. Was that really Moses and Elijah talking with the Lord?

But after all those years of prayer and reflection the voice of old Peter insists that what he saw and heard on that mountain was real. And then he uses a very beautiful expression when he says that we should pay attention to his message “as to a lamp in a dark place.” “As to a lamp in a dark place.” Peter has spent years praying, thinking, reflecting on his experiences with Jesus and the other disciples. And what has happened to him? Peter has been transformed. Peter has grown from being that sincere but bumbling fisherman to being a great Christian leader who now is passing on his wisdom to the next generation.

Transfiguration – the power of God to transform us. And the good news for Peter - and for us - is that we don’t have to “get it”. The most important thing is for us to be open to the power of God working in us and in the world around us. Openness can be hard. It’s easy to close ourselves up. But for Peter and for us that openness to God’s power comes through prayer and simply paying attention. Look at the Transfiguration story again. It’s no accident that all this happens when Jesus has gone to the mountain to pray. And Peter and the other disciples are able to see this amazing scene because they are paying attention – they have stayed awake and they have seen God powerfully at work in the world around them.

Prayer and paying attention – as to a lamp shining in a dark place. It’s really as simple, and as awesome as that. Prayer and paying attention are the beginning of our own transformation into the people God dreams we will be. Prayer and paying attention are the beginning of our transformation into the people who we really are.

And what would our transformation look like? We know the answer to that. Just look around. We experience some of that transformation each week here at House of Prayer. Our transformation would look like – it would be – love. Our transformation takes us from being maybe self-centered, frightened, suspicious, doubtful people into loving people. We become people who love without counting the cost. We can become people who really do see Jesus, Moses and Elijah out on Broad Street! That’s the power of Transfiguration.

Again, think of Peter. This fisherman who doesn’t really “get it” is transformed into a man who gives up everything for Christ. At the end, according to tradition, he gives even his very life for Christ when he is crucified in Rome.

Since this transformation makes us who we really are, we adults ought to pay more attention to young children as our role models in life and in faith. Children who have not yet become hardened and cynical by the world. Here’s one example: Last weekend Sue and I were at a child’s birthday party. One of the kids there was a five year old boy named Thomas. In his young life Thomas has already had his fair share of troubles – his parents have split up he’s had some behavioral problems. Anyway, that afternoon he was happily playing with another five year old boy, a kid he barely knew, named Noah. After a while Thomas came over to his dad and with great seriousness and sincerity said, “I love Noah so much.”

Now I admit that my first thought was to dismiss him: “Oh that’s very cute. But, come on, give me a break, you don’t love Noah – you don’t even know him! You’re too young to even know what love even is!” But this week as I reflected on the Transfiguration I kept going back to that little moment at the party. I came to see that young Thomas’s declaration of love for his new friend Noah was a beautiful glimpse of what our transformed, transfigured lives, can be. His innocent words were a reminder of who we really are and of who God calls us to be. When we are transformed by the power of God in Jesus Christ - we love!

So there you have it. Maybe we should have a Transfiguration party! Happy Transfiguration Day! Let’s set aside our fears and on this summer day let’s celebrate Jesus, God’s Chosen One. Let’s celebrate God’s power to transform us and our world. Today we are reminded that all we need to do is open our hearts, through prayer and paying attention, to God’s presence and power among us. Like Peter we can know Jesus as God’s Chosen One. Like Peter we can be transformed. Like Peter our message of love can be like a lamp shining in a world that has grown very dark. And like a little boy named Thomas we can say to our brothers and sisters, “I love you so much.”

Amen.