Have you ever had a “transfigurational” experience? A mountain top experience: ecstatic (out of body, in a way). Heaven and earth come together. Christ’s face shining. God’s love all around. All is good. And you want to hold on to that moment forever?
I had one of my life’s “transfigurational” experiences in the presence of some of you...a little over two years ago, now, in Germany.
We took a congregational trip -- something like 20 of us -- to the lands of Luther. And we had been traveling together for a handful of days coming up from the south of Germany where we started, winding our way through the sites of Luther’s life, his birthplace of Eiselben, where you can stand in the church where he was baptized, the castle where he was hidden outside of Erfurt, Leipzig famous for Bach, the great Lutheran composer -- and finally we arrived in Wittenberg, where Martin Luther and his wife Käthe spent their life together, where Luther did most of his teaching and preaching -- and where, of course, he nailed the 95 theses to the church door.
It was at that church where we got to worship on a Sunday morning in October! We were in Wittenberg on a Sunday morning! And in many ways, aside from the extravagant architecture and opulent interiors, it was much like worshiping here on Sunday morning: The prayers and the readings were the same, the preacher stood up in the pulpit to preach, the music was familiar, the offering plate got passed just like we do, and then comes time for communion as the congregation sings together.
I’m not a big statue guy, especially statues in churches. But those those guys are are buried in that sanctuary, Luther under the pulpit. So it was like they were present in an additional way. And it hasn’t occurred to me until this week, that it was a “transfigurational” experience. When you’re in the moment, you’re not intellectualizing -- [scholarly voice] “I am now having a transfigurational experience” -- no, you’re just letting it wash over you. The ornate sanctuary, the harvest display of fruits and vegetables at the foot of the alter (a sign of the living church, not just a historic site), yet so rich with history: I could see the inside of the door where Luther nailed the 95 theses, I could see his tombstone under the pulpit and there was a ray of light shining in on his stature in that beautiful chancel that was commingled with rich shadows and glorious sunlight, which was a gift on an overcast October Northern-hemisphere day. I felt the tears stream down my cheeks, I tried to sing but gave up and just listened, I looked at some of you across from me, Heather right next to me--an even better sign of God’s living church--some of you were getting a little choked up too, I noticed. I went back to my pew literally weak in the knees from trying to stand there up in front, through it all. It was truly transfigurational for me -- heaven and earth come together, a sense of clarity, and peace, and beauty, and hope and joy.
And here’s what I’m noticing about Transfiguration this year -- It’s about our past as well as our present and our future.
When the disciples looked at Jesus on the mountain top, they saw Jesus...with Moses and Elijah. When we look at Christ, in “transfigurational” moments we see our past as well as our present and our future all wrapped up at once.
For me, that’s the Lutheran line. Luther and Melanchthon, you who are older than me, you who are younger than me -- we’re all wrapped up into one at the foot of Christ’s cross.
Our history has so much to do with our present. Where we’ve come from. Both as individuals and families...and as the church. How many shoulders are we standing on here?
Who is it that’s shaped you for better or worse? [pause]
Dreamed about having events this year, to talk about controversial issues like immigration or gun control -- but talk about that not as why I’m right and your wrong, but rather to reflect on the shoulders I stand on in forming my position on [pick your] issue.
Our history matters deeply. So often fathers aren’t the most loving, care-givers. Do you know why? Perhaps they never learned. “If you parents didn’t love you the way you think they should have, it’s because they never learned.”
We stand on the shoulders of our past, of our parents and grandparents, most immediately, but that legacy goes even further back, especially in the church.
Why do we say “The Lord be with you. And also with you.” Why do hold out our hands to receive communion. Why do we start at the baptismal font, or reach out and touch the Holy Book before the Gospel reading?
It’s because that’s what’s been passed down to us.
When the disciples on the mount of transfiguration looked at Jesus that day, they saw their past before them too, along with their present and even their future...just for a moment. I think that’s what happened to me in Wittenburg...just for a moment.
We don’t always remember or recognize the shoulders upon which that we stand. From time to time we make a point to honor our forebearers. Our nation helps us with this -- stopping for a whole day to honor our presidents, or great national heroes, explorers, soldiers, veterans and great patriots.
But how about in the church and in our homes? How often do we stop and consider those shoulders that we stand on? And not just the obvious one -- like Luther, Melanchthon, Moses, Elijah, your mom and dad. But also the legions of no-name or rarely-named saints who make up our existence and give us some grounding in the family of God.
The past is critical in the story of the Transfiguration -- Elijah and Moses were standing there. Two great patriarchs of the Jewish faith to remind those disciples of all the great patriarchs and matriarchs of the faith.
As we give glory to God this day, as we bear witness to Christ’s shine, let us do so in the company of the saints -- saints who are still with us (think of your teachers and our children’s teachers) and saints who have gone before us. Give thanks for the saints whose witness has paved the way for us to be a living church today, not just a relic of the past.
And together we give thanks to Christ who calls us now down from the mountaintop, who bids we take up the cross and follow him. Those who we honor are those who have suffered for their faith. We will suffer too, for that’s what it looks like to shine with Christ, he teaches us. Let us go boldly and in the sure confidence that even as we suffer down this bumpy road of discipleship, even as we descend the mountain, come back to our pew or com home from Wittenberg, we don’t go alone: Christ Jesus goes with us, and holds us together. Thanks be to God. AMEN
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