Scriptures: Luke 9:28-36
Given on 03/17/2019
There are moments that occur in this space once every few weeks that transport me back to my hometown church and my childhood. Moments in which a hymn will begin and for a few minutes I am no longer bound by the limitations of space and time and I am, at least in my mind, and I imagine, my soul, back in the sanctuary of my youth. Back to the second pew back from the front, on the left side, that place where most Presbyterians don’t sit but my father ushered us into each Sunday of my youth. Back to a time where an adult choir that spilled out of the two lofts in which they sat led the congregation in singing some of the great old hymns of the church. Where we would sing Holy, Holy, Holy (Lord, God, Almighty) and Ms. Carolyn Snow, already an older woman, would pierce the firmament between heaven and earth with a descant that sat on top of the last verse of the song. Where we would sing Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee and the great pipe organ would fill the whole of the space with Beethoven's Ode to Joy as we, with one voice, offered our sincerest praise to God for the life and light and love that swirl all around us. A light and love that seemed to, in that moment, in that place completely envelop all of us and bring us all to the throne of glory, the gates of heaven, the table of the great feast of God. Now, my mother, if she were here in this place, would tell you, among other things about me, I imagine, that she used to hold up large speakers to her belly while I was in utero and play concertos by Bach and lilting melodies by Antonio Vivaldi, that she used to rattle my little home with the powerful symphonies of Carl Orff and Antonin Dvorak. She would tell you that that is where my profound love of music came from. And, it’s true, I've tried to incorporate a love of music in each part of my lived experience. If one were to come by my office during the work week, you would likely be greeted by the works of either Miles Davis, Thelonious Monk, or the great John Coltrane a jazz musician I begged my wife to let me name a child after. I didn't succeed. In my doctoral program, I garnered a bit of a reputation for writing whole papers about the role of music in the great social movements for equality and justice, especially in the 20th century in the United States. And in them I talked about the manner in which Miles Davis, in the middle of all the social upheaval of the late 1960s and early 1970s released a series of albums in which he took every single rule of music and dropped them into a blender and created works of art that became the soundtrack of an era. I wrote about the role of prophetic musicians like Bob Dylan and Marvin Gaye who each, in their own way, called on the nation to embrace racial harmony and the work of peace and of musical artists today who continue to push the boundaries of art and demand that we never stop the human endeavor to better embrace the power of love to overcome everything that is broken about the world. And it is this love of music that has allowed me and allows me to let go of all the strains of logic and rationalism that I too often find myself a prisoner of and simply exist in the moment and to dwell in the mystery of the Holy and for that to be sufficient for the living of the day. And I mention all this because, often, we need to be called, to be welcomed to take time in the mystery and the majesty of God, unhindered by calendars, to-do lists, the pressures to use our time wisely, and to be transported away from the everyday and to somewhere in which we are not limited by our place in time. Often we do not seek out those moments of sheer beauty in which we are filled with life and love and light. Often we do not, look for ways to experience occasions on mountaintop in which we find ourselves surrounded by the glory of God. We don't listen for those magical moments in which notes blend together and we find ourselves experiencing as the old hymn says the mystic sweet communion of rest in God. Those times in which the glory of God breaks down all that dwells in the spaces between ourselves and God's peace, God's love. And we all need those times. We need those times in which, even if only for a brief moment, all else falls away and we find ourselves touching the face of God and breathing the very breath of God's Holy Spirit. And for many, it is art, it is music and release us from the bounds of a broken humanity and allow us to see, with our own eyes, even if only for a second, the glory of God shining all around us. This is what we need just as Jesus’s followers needed it, as they prepared for the last moments of Jesus’s life.
Musical Interlude
We are told that following a particularly trying exchange between Jesus and some of his followers, he takes Peter, James, and John up to the top of a mountain to pray. And perhaps it was that for those that followed Jesus up the mountain, the trip had been too exhausting. Perhaps it was that they were still thinking about the exchange they had had with Jesus in which he talked about losing their lives in hopes of gaining them. Maybe it was what had to feel like the specter of death that seemed to building around them as they moved from city-to-city, but whatever it was, when they all go to pray together the three, Peter, James, and John fall sound asleep. And really, who among us hasn't done that before? Who among us hasn't started thinking, started praying about their day and their lives and the next thing you know it is morning. But while they are asleep, we are told that Jesus begins to change, to become transfigured, and all of a sudden he is standing with Moses and Elijah, two of the spiritual fathers of the Jewish tradition. And with the others still asleep they begin to talk about the prophecy that he is about to bring to fruition in Jerusalem. And maybe it is that this is Jesus's opportunity to be carried away from all that is going on in the world, if only for a few minutes. Maybe this is as much about Jesus experiencing the glory of God enveloping himself high atop a mountain where there is no one else who is cognizant of what is going on, maybe this is his last bit of refuge, the last shelter from the storm before his life begins to careen out of control. It is worth noting that when he and the disciples come back down the mountain to rejoin the others, that what's called by Biblical scholars the "turn to Jerusalem" happens. That is, Jesus comes to make peace with his final destiny and begins to make preparations for it. This story of the Transfiguration happens on the week before Ash Wednesday and the start of Lent every year. And it happens here because, as we journey with Jesus to his final destination, we too, must prepare ourselves for what is to come, We, too, must rest and regain the strength to walk with Jesus in these last few steps. We, too, must see and experience the Glory of God shining on the one that we seek to follow. And so it is that we see the disciples awaken and immediately they are aware that the glory of God is shining on the one that they are seeking to follow. And maybe it is that in rising from their slumber they are not sure how to proceed, maybe it is that the awe that they experience just seeing a divine light shining has taken their ability to think clearly, maybe it is that they have been rendered silent because the only thing they can manage to get out is Peter, and God love Peter, but it is Peter, seeing that they have been joined by the spirits of two of the spiritual parents of Judaism, offers to pitch three tents for them so that they may rest awhile, so that they might, in the language of my people, take off their sandals and set a spell. And when I've read this passage before, I've always thought this rather awkward turn in the conversation was simply the result of Peter being Peter. Whatever else you can say about the one on whom Jesus built the church, it must be said that more often than not, it is Peter who says the slightly humorous, slightly awkward thing that often breaks the silence in the situation. And it certainly is an awkward thing to say, but this time around, I heard something that I hadn't heard before. Something that I really have appreciated in this time in which often it can feel as if the world is descending into chaos. You put down tents in a place in which you want to spend some time dwelling. You put down tents at a place that feels like you might be able to recharge your battery for a long trip. You put down tents when you believe that you can't possibly go another step without collapsing. When the disciples wake up from sleep that had overtaken them because they were just that tired, they immediately find themselves staring not just at their teacher, not just at the one they followed, but at a person glowing with its the glory of God, with two pillars of the Judaic tradition standing with them and sure this felt like some kind of a confirmation that what they were doing was right, surely this felt like a place that they could stay forever, surely this gave them a greater faith in the power of God over all creation. And so it is that Peter just affirms what we all know to be true. That when we have seen the face of God, when we breathe the breath of the Holy Spirit, when we believe and we know and are assured that we are forever held in the powerful hand of God, we want to stay there forever. So of course you take whatever action is necessary for the sustenance of the moment. Of course you try and get Moses and Elijah to stick around. Of course you want Jesus to stay glowing with the glory of God. Of course life isn't perpetually aglow, at least not in a way that we can always see and so it is that a cloud comes and surrounds Jesus and his followers are reminded that they cannot stay there. They are reminded that there is work to be done. But they are also reminded, in language that mirrors Jesus's baptism that we spoke about a few weeks ago, "This is my own, my chosen one. Listen to him!" And maybe it is that Jesus said not to tell anyone what hap happened. Or maybe they just couldn't process what they had seen or heard for a long time, maybe it is that to try and put words to such an experience of the Divine would have cheapened it for them, would never have captured the beauty and sublimity of the moment. In any case, they returned to the group and told no one what had happened.
This morning, I am indebted to Peter and his way with words, his turns of phrase. This morning I understand his earnest desire to mark this place in space and time, to have the past and the present intertwined in a holy dance for a just a moment longer, to dwell wholly and inexorably in the light of the moment. For I find myself, too, wishing to freeze time exactly where we are right now, to place down the stakes of a tent and remain here in this place, with those who are journeying this journey of life together. I find myself wanting to find the eternity in this moment and in this one and in this one. I find myself wanting to enwrap all of those in this place with the glory fo God, the light of God, the love and God and just stay in this place forever and forget the rest of the story. I find myself not wanting to think of our own turn towards Jerusalem that will inevitably have to take place once we leave the mountaintop. I don’t want to return to the mundanity of life, to the challenges to life, to the struggle. I find myself wanting to just linger a few extra seconds in this time and in this place where I know that things are ok. I don’t want to return to the outside world where there is pain and loss, strain and death, where gunmen shoot up mosques to show the superiority of their race and livestream the whole thing on Facebook. Where so many of our number in this place carry burdens and fatigue, fear and lamentation that so often we can’t even know about. I want us to be able to stay here together, forever, and not be bound by the confines of earthly bodies and the long march of time that seems to possess and a drive and avarice to consume as much as possible as quickly as possible. But here in this place, with this community, for these brief fleeting seconds, those challenges are held at bay for a bit. We have a chance to gather with one another, to sing together, to pray together, to study together, to fellowship, and to stand in the presence of Christ, stripped of everything but our most literal essences, wholly apart from the muck and the mire of the world, just the beloved of God in the presence of the divine.
Sisters, brothers, as we settle into this Lenten experience together—a journey in which even those with the deepest faith and trust in God will find themselves stretched to their outer limits to make sense of what is about to take place—let us still find those brief moments of respite and holiness as we make our way to Jerusalem and the melee that will ensue there. Let us steal away with the savior and be reminded again and again of the light of God which reached its zenith in the person of Jesus. Let us find community in new and powerful ways, with those here in this place so that we do not forget that we never are alone. We don't face these challenges as a collection of individuals who happen to arrive at the same place each week. We come together as a family to stand with one another and carry those who grow weary and dry the tears of the ones who cannot bear to see Jesus's last few steps. We come together as a family and we help the one in our midst to hear again and anew the familiar words of God saying, “This is my beloved, my chosen one, listen to him.” We come together as a family to challenge one another to resist the urge to linger in this place for too long, for, we, as the faithful remnant, can never forget that just outside those doors is a world that is bathed in darkness, a world that is desperate to know that someone, anyone still cares and we are called to not remain here but to go into the darkness, being conduits for that love, for that light in a world that needs it desperately and the gospel must always speak to peoples’ lived experiences, it must change peoples’ realities. So let us take a few moments to stand in the light of the transfigured savior, let us be sustained for the journey, let us see the face of the risen Christ in one another, but let us never fear the journey or what comes ahead. For we go only where Jesus first trod, we step only in his footsteps, we stand only on the shoulders of giants, we take our place in the unbroken circle that goes from the beginning of time to the end, forever a’washed in the love of God that first birthed us all. And let us walk it together. Sinners, saints, and everything in between. Arm-in-arm headed for Golgotha, the cross, the darkness, the tomb always believing that the light still shines in the darkness and that the darkness is never, ever able to overcome it. Let us linger no more but be on our way. Amen.
*-Image-The Transfiguration, Raphael, 1516-1520