This is the Last Sunday after the Epiphany. It says so right there on the front of the order of service – and on the top of the lectionary insert. There’s another way to identify this particular Sunday – by our gospel reading – the story of the Transfiguration. Every year, no matter what lectionary cycle we are in, the gospel for the Last Sunday after the Epiphany is about the Transfiguration. This year it’s Mark’s story. Last year it was Matthew. Next year will be Luke, and then the cycle begins all over again.
Clearly this is an important story. It’s one of the few stories that are found in all three synoptic gospels. But why is it important? And why is it placed here – at the end of the season of Epiphany – the last Sunday before Lent begins. We get some clues about why it’s important and why it’s placed at this point in the year by looking back at the readings over the past 8 weeks.
Epiphany means manifestation – showing forth – coming into being. On the first Sunday after the Epiphany, we read about Jesus’ baptism and heard the words that are echoed in today’s story – “This is my son, the beloved.” In the weeks since then, we’ve heard a brief summary of Jesus early ministry. We’ve heard him prophesy that the people would see heaven open and the Angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man. We’ve heard the story of his calling the disciples – Simon and Andrew, James and John. We’ve heard the story of his casting out unclean spirits. We’ve heard the story of his healing Peter’s mother-in-law, then moving on to spread the word – to proclaim the message of God’s love. We’ve heard the story of the cleansing of the leper and – last week, of the healing of the paralytic. Throughout these weeks, we’ve heard of Jesus ministry – his prophecy, his healing, his teaching and his preaching.
Throughout these weeks and these stories, we’ve also heard how the people of Israel – including Jesus’ own disciples – have been confused by his ministry, how they have attempted to frame his ministry in the ways they understand – the old ways of their reality.
Our gospel today is like one of those remedial lessons that sometimes happen toward the end of a semester. Sometimes, as we learn, we get caught up in all the exciting ideas that develop in our understanding as our knowledge grows. Sometimes, we get so excited about the trajectory of our ideas and experience that we lose touch with the basics we learned in the first week of class, and the teacher needs to say – “Wait a minute – remember what we learned way back then? It’s still true, it’s still important, it’s still the foundation that holds all this in place.”
Today’s gospel is telling us to pull our focus away from all the things we are doing – to bring our focus back to the basics – back to the reason we do what we do in our lives as Christians.
What is the foundation of these last few weeks of readings? What is the foundation of Jesus’ early ministry?
Let’s go back to the story.
Jesus takes the disciples with him to the mountain for quiet time. They have
been working -
criss-crossing the country by land and by sea, feeding the multitudes, healing,
teaching, preaching. And he takes them away to a quiet place. When they reach
a certain spot on the mountainside, they stop. They stop. And as they watch,
in front of their very eyes, Jesus is transfigured – changed so that even
his clothing seems glittering white. And then they see Moses and Elijah talking
with Jesus.
At this point in the story, Peter, having been still for some moments, can bear it no longer. He leaps into action. As he tells Jesus that he will build booths for the three holy men, the gathering is enclosed by a cloud, and the voice of God is heard saying, “This is my beloved son; listen to him.” When the cloud clears, Moses and Elijah are no longer visible. Jesus stands alone with the three disciples, then leads them back down the mountain, telling them that they must tell no one until the Son of man has risen from the dead.
What happened? What happened in the moments after they stopped on the mountainside? The disciples somehow recognized the Jesus’ holiness in a way they had not experienced before. What happened to their perception of Jesus? Could it be that Jesus didn’t change at all? Could it be that when the disciples stopped doing and asking and preaching and healing and rowing and whining and simply looked at Jesus, they were able to see him in a different way? Could it be that the holiness they saw shining forth had always been there, waiting for them to stop and notice?
Sometimes we hear that Moses and Elijah were clues for the disciples – that they recognized the holy in Jesus through associating him with the historical figures representing the law and the prophets. But could it be that they recognized Moses and Elijah as the proper companions for the holiness they have just recognized in Jesus? Did they know Moses and Elijah because they knew the holy in Jesus first?
And the knowledge of that holiness was so terrifying – so troubling – that Peter couldn’t bear to be still. He jumps into action in the certain knowledge that he must capture this moment – must somehow respond by doing the right thing. Peter had a steep learning curve, and so do I. I keep trying to do the things that will bring me closer to God or maybe bring God closer to me. I keep trying to do the things that will result in intimacy with the holy. I keep trying to do the right things. And I tend to forget the basics – that I cannot build a little house to contain the holy, that God’s action in the world is way beyond my control or understanding.
One of my greatest temptations is to allow myself to fall into the sin of busy-ness—the busy-ness that keeps me – and perhaps you – from noticing the presence of God in our lives. The busy-ness that keeps me – and perhaps you – from noticing the holy in those with whom we live and work and play. The busy-ness that keeps us from noticing the holy in ourselves. I – and perhaps you – can be so busy that we don’t even notice the potentially life-changing events that are happening in every moment of our lives. And, just like Peter, when the holy breaks in on our lives in some way that can’t be ignored, the intensity of its nearness – the immensity of the presence of the holy – is sometimes so overpowering that we move away from it – to do those things that make us feel we’re in control.
This Wednesday, Ash Wednesday, we begin once again the 40 day journey through Lent. We have 40 days to prepare our hearts to meet the risen Christ, to prepare to renew our baptismal vows, to prepare once again for new life in Christ. Last night, on Prairie Home Companion, Garrison Keillor said that Lent is the time when Christians try to bring a little discipline to their lives. This morning, as we look back to the basic tenet of our Christian belief, of God’s love being made visible in a human form, I invite you to a little discipline. Not a great big discipline. Just a little discipline.
I invite you to shift your focus just a little bit from the busy-ness that so often drives our days and nights. For these forty days, I invite you to look into your hearts – just a little bit – to find the connection with the God who creates us – to look for the holy – just a little bit – in the faces of the people around us and in the face in the mirror. For these forty days, I invite you to listen – just a little bit – for the voice of God – to listen for the one who knows us and calls us by name.