February 3, 2008:  NOT VERY CONCRETE
Mathew 17:1-9, Psalm 99 
Eileen Parfrey  --  Springwater Presbyterian Church

In this passage, Jesus is again claimed as “Beloved Son” (see his baptism and the temptation in the wilderness.  Significance of Moses as Law-giver (Jesus is the “New Moses” in Matthew) and Elijah representing the prophets (he is also known as “Troubler of Israel”, the king un-maker, an allusion Matthew may also be making to Jesus).  Jesus has been talking about his resurrection, the self-denial required of his disciples, and Peter has declared him “Christ.”

The Children’s Time involved putting clown make- up on a Styrofoam wig head, showing the meaning of “Transfiguration” (changing how you look which, for Jesus, meant revealing who he really is).  The white face paint represents both death and a baptismal color (in which we die to old things, set our self aside).  The original clowns were court jesters, whose irreverence toward power also represented the conscience for the king.  Court jesters were the only ones allowed to disagree with the king, and when that became too dangerous, the jesters went to live in the church.  Baptism is our delight, makes us laugh, and marks us as claimed by God.  Children, and then the congregation, were offered a red dot of face paint to remind them of the invisible mark of baptism which shows our mark as God’s people.

            The one interpretive fact I hope you understand about today’s scripture lesson is that there is no explanation.  Nothing I say can tell you “what” happened.  Peter’s the only one whose response makes any sense.  There are some things so awesome, so absolutely astonishing, that we can only be, well, awestricken.  We call this story the “transfiguration,” which the dictionary defines as “to change in appearance.”  Well, duh.  Like that helps.  Strip away all the theological things about what happened on that mountain, and the point is:  revelation of God, revelation of who Jesus really is, and most of all—mystery.  To pick events apart is to dissect a frog to find the hop.  A more fruitful approach is to wonder if the disciples’ response could ever be ours.

            It’s about a shift in judgment.  It happens all the time, due to change in perceived value.  It’s Antiques Roadshow.  The Roadshow has a loyal following, not because Americans love antiques, but because of the thrill of watching people’s reactions.  We love watching the reaction as a treasured family heirloom is devalued because it is shown to be a clumsy fake.  We thrill as the hideous garage sale painting turns out to have a rare Old Master worth thousands of dollars painted on its back.  And we always watch with an eye to what we’ve got, hoping to learn we’ve got the equivalent of mint condition Babe Ruth rookie cards in our barn.  I’ve got the family epergne.  [bring out the epergne]

Every family has some treasure so valuable no one can bear the thought of parting with it.  Ours is the epergne. When my grandmother built her house in 1951, she designed it so as to display the epergne to its best advantage.  Like a classic Antiques Roadshow story, our epergne has legendary provenance.  Andrew Carnegie’s sister is supposed to have given it to my grandmother’s great aunt.  No one living remembers why, but the story is so gospel-truth in family lore that the epergne was always given the place of honor on the Christmas table, with silver balls in the trumpets.  The place of honor.

            When my mother acquired my grandparents’ house, the epergne came with it.  When she and my dad moved to a condo, so did the epergne, remaining in an honored position until my father re-married 8 years after my mother’s death.  His bride felt such a treasured piece belonged more appropriately in the hands of a family member, so the four of us kids—Mom’s heirs—drew straws.  I lost.  Which means the epergne is mine, and none of my siblings would ever dream of my parting with it. 

            I have watched Antiques Roadshow to no avail, hoping to vindicate the luck of the draw and find that the epergne is worth thousands of dollars.  But what changed the value of the epergne in my eyes was when it received its first professional floral arranging.  I had it done for Rick’s and my wedding, mostly to pimp my siblings, but when I carried it in to Greg, the very talented floral arranger, and observed his awe, heard him actually warbling about what a wonderful example it was, I began to think my straw wasn’t as short as I’d thought.  When Greg finished arranging it, delivering it to our house in a special van, placing it reverently in its alcove, I have to admit, I thought it was beautiful.  Beautiful.  For the first time. Lovingly changed in appearance, rendered into that for which it was intended, the epergne became valuable in my eyes. Transfiguration.

            Exactly what Jim Belt and I have been talking about lately.  Jim, as you may know, is battling cancer.  He refers to his treatments as “boot camp for eternity,” as if he is living a virtual transfiguration.  Something that has helped him see this is a book he read by Jean Luc-Marion called, The Erotic Phenomenon.  Another friend of ours read it as part of his Doctor of Ministry program at George Fox University.  The book examines the connection between sexuality and spirituality, and Jim himself summarizes the whole premise of the book in one sentence:  What makes us human is when we love and are loved.  The implication for him is about evangelism, and he starts conversations with others by giving away red clown noses.  Evangelism, it turns out, is part of Jim’s battle with mortality.  After a lifetime as a minister, Jim has discovered that evangelism isn’t about “right theology” or “right programs” or “right approaches.”  Evangelism is about what happens to the evangelist.  What God is doing with the messenger. 

Which is why his battle with mortality has become a time of recovering himself.  Like a clown’s balloon, he says he is filling up with more and more “who he is.”  In his place of transfiguration, straddling this world and the next, he finds himself the conduit of grace.  Becoming what Peter experienced on that mountain.  The power center of his life is Jesus.  More than proclaiming the gospel, Jesus is the gospel for Jim.  The Person Jesus.  From where Jim stands, the further we move from Jesus, the paler and weaker our lives become. 

The awe-inspiring event on that mountaintop wasn’t two guys who had been dead 2,000 years showing up and talking with Jesus.  The terrifyingly worshipful event wasn’t Jesus in dazzling white.  The awe-inspiring mystery that knocked the socks off all three mere mortals on top of that mountain was the Voice that said, “This is my Beloved.”  The universe cracked open, claiming Jesus, rendering judgment of Divine pleasure.  Changed in appearance, rendered into that for which he was intended by love.  Then, listen to him.  Listen!  The message Jesus embodied— the very thing Jesus was and is above all else—is the gospel. Which, being translated means, you are God’s Beloved.  The red dot you wear today signifying the invisible mark of your baptism, is proof positive that you are Beloved of God.  Well pleased.  Well pleased with you, Beloved.  Listen to him.  Listen, listen, listen.  Beloved.