Listen to this sermon HERE.
A few weeks ago we had the opportunity to travel to St. Louis to be with my Grandpa to celebrate his 90th birthday. My grandparents were so generous and they made it possible for all 4 of us to fly to St. Louis for a cold and snowy and wonderful weekend. And it was the first time in Katie’s memory that she got to fly in an airplane. And like many of us perhaps, when we fly for the first time, there’s a certain mystique to the clouds. We get a new view of the clouds. “What’s going to happen when we get up there to clouds?” Katie wondered before takeoff. When we got up above the clouds she looked down at them and asked me if we could walk on the clouds. “...But the Care Bears can.” And then in the descent, we learned, as many of us who have flown have learned, that sometimes it can get bumpy.
I want take us into the clouds a bit on this Transfiguration Sunday, when we get to hear again of Jesus’ journey into the clouds with Peter, James and John. In the story, Matthew says, from the cloud comes a great voice, and we hear the same words we heard at Jesus’ baptism, just a few weeks ago: “This is my Son, the Beloved. Listen to him.”
But before the voice and the cloud, something else happens: They’re hiking up this mountain -- we don’t know which one, but we can guess it’s one of the multiple mounts up from the western shores of the Sea of Galilee, and again we’re blessed with incredibly similar landscape here in San Diego, so think Mount Helix. Jesus goes with 3 of his disciples up a Galilean version of Mount Helix and when they get to the top all out of breath and sweaty, I imagine, Jesus transfigures before them. And suddenly there with him they see Moses and Elijah talking with Jesus. This is the ultimate mountain top experience. Remember that these guys were Jews, and Moses and Elijah were probably their childhood heroes, certainly great heroes of the Jewish faith -- one representing the law, the other the prophets. Amazing that they knew exactly who they were.
Peter -- let’s give him some credit -- knows he’s in the presence of greatness and says, “Lord it is good for us to be here. Let’s build!” [pause] (It’s amazing that this text comes on the same day we have major congregational meeting about building! Not planned, by the way. Rescheduled.)
Peter gets ragged on a lot -- but let’s give him some credit, he knew a good thing when he saw it, and wanted to celebrate it, and keep it close. But almost as soon as he says this. The clouds envelop them.
We’ve been in clouds this week, thanks be to God. We’ve finally gotten some rain. Clouds aren’t all bad it’s important for us Southern Californians to remember that -- we can get a little cranky about clouds. But I know the farmers among us and in our communities are not -- the last couple weeks we’ve gone to pick up our produce (we’re part of a C.S.A.) and the farmer’s just had has his shoulders shrugged in fear...
How cool that the clouds have enveloped us too this week. For Christians, it’s baptismal. We get too look out and see a cloud on top of Mount San Miguel (great view of it as you come down Avocado). The clouds enveloped those disciples up there on a Galilean version of San Miguel, and they hear a voice. “This is my Son, the beloved. Out of these three, the Law, the Prophets, and Jesus: listen ultimately to Jesus.” And the disciples are terrified, Matthew tells us. I think they’re scared not just because of the surreal-ness of this whole experience but because they’ve always listened to the Law and the Prophets. Everything is changing.
And they’ve fallen on their faces in both fear and in worship.
You know how clouds can disperse bright light everywhere. As we went through the clouds on the airplane, Katie quickly noticed how bright it is, and she kept wanting to shut the window shade. And I kept lifting it back up: “Wait, it gets better.”
And sure enough, just as quickly as all the glory and majesty and mystique came on, it was gone. And Jesus is reaching out his hand and touching them. One of my colleagues this week, noticed that in the text: “I’ve never caught that before,” she said, “Jesus touches them.” A healing touch, and comforting touch, a compassionate touch. Ever had that? [sadly these days, we have to be careful: touch has become something that’s either romantic or inappropriate/abusive] But there’s a different kind of touch too. One time, I was going through a tough time, and after I confided in a pastor, who I greatly admired, took my face in her hand, and it felt neither romantic nor inappropriate, and all she said was, “I am so sorry.”
See, it gets better? Jesus reaches out and touches the disciples, the Gospel of Matthew tells us. And then he says, get up, don’t be afraid. And then they go back down the mountain. Such a mixture of emotion in this story. No wonder it’s in a cloud. Exhaustion, joy, anticipation, both clarity and confusion, knee-crumbling fear, compassion, and trusting. At the end, Jesus takes them back down off the mountain. The clouds make things a little bumpy. But they still follow.
This Sunday marks a turning point for us. We turn from the twinkling glow of the Christmas and Epiphany stars to the wilderness of Lent. This week comes Ash Wednesday, where we get our bearings, check our compasses/GPS and realize: “Oh, wait a minute. We’re off track. We need to turn around.” Turning is the major theme for us in Lent.
It’s tough admitting that you’re lost, that you need to turn around, that you’re broken, that you’re confused or scared. But let’s not forget this Transfiguration moment, where Christ takes our head in his hand, compassionately, and tells us, “Keep going, don’t be afraid, I’m not leaving you. Follow me.”
We descend the mountain, having glimpsed a vision. We know now that we are to listen to Jesus. And that plays out truly in our daily lives.
“What does Christ want for this congregation as we propose a building design today?” That’s the question we ultimately have to go home and wrestle with. “This is my son the beloved. Listen to him.” Well, what is he saying to us?
What is Christ saying to you in these days? How are you being called down into the beautiful and challenging valleys of Monday to Friday? Sometimes the descent can be bumpy, but wait, it gets better...
And let us give thanks, here in worship, that we don’t go it alone -- we have one another, and we have our great shepherd of the sheep. Jesus doesn’t push us down the mountain, and keep hanging with Moses and Elijah. “Best of luck to you!” No, he leads us down. He goes before us, shepherding us into the valleys. Christ’s body and blood are food for the journey, the waters that gush from the clouds, remind us of our baptismal promises.
And so we can go, led in love, and pointed to do the same. AMEN.
* grateful for the ideas and inspiration for this sermon from Bp. Michael Rinehart and the Rev. Barbara Brown Taylor.
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