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February 6, 2005 (Transfiguration):
Whatever Happens, Hang On!
The "this" he means is, "transfigured." As if anyone knows what that means! One of my books recommends substituting the word "changed," as in "he was changed before them." "Transfigured" was too obscure, the book said, so I went to the dictionary, which said "transfigured" is "what happened to Jesus." Other books define "transfiguration" as "Jesus brought into God's glory" saying he was "filled with transcendent authority." Does theologizing about it make transfiguration more or less obscure? Maybe transfiguration is supposed to be impossible to define. After all, it is mystical, and mystery explained is flat, in the same way a video of the baby's first steps flatten a parent's joy and wonder at the event. So I could do theology, talking about why the Protestant lectionary puts Transfiguration Sunday at the head of Lent. It's supposed to remind us that the Lenten journey is not all gloom, that much of the paradox of our faith comes together at Lent-suffering and glory, darkness and light, death and life. Theologically, the Transfiguration is God's commitment to resurrection, as if, as we begin that most-harrowing of journeys to the cross with Jesus and his disciples, we get to see Jesus for who he really is. But I truly think today is more about "wonder" than it is about theology. What does it take to blow our socks off? For Peter, James, and John, it took a light show off their teacher's face and two guys who should have been dead a thousand years to blow their socks. It took a cloud and a disembodied Voice, the touch of their teacher, to put the socks back on. Even then, what had just happened wouldn't make sense to them until after Jesus died and was resurrected. Preachers often rag on the disciples for not catching the meaning of this event at the time. Sometimes they say, "Peter's outburst was ill-timed and diversionary," as if Peter, wanting to avoid the consequences of not doing his math homework, diverts the teacher's attention just as the homework is being passed in. "Look! A bald eagle on the bird feeder!" Sometimes preachers are condescending. "Well duh, does it take a glowing face and raiment, the visitations of an ancient law-giver and an un-dead prophet, to tell you who this guy is?" In the previous chapter, Peter had told Jesus, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God." Sometimes preachers theologize that "only with divine intervention can humans understand a Christophany." There is some truth to all these positions, but we have the benefit of 2,000 years of church tradition to layer meaning onto the transfiguration, so we can't say how we would have reacted with our socks scared off. The truth of the matter is, even with 2,000 years of good sermons and learned theology, we should be astonished at this event. We should fall flat on the ground in awe and shock. It is natural to respond like Peter-to want to either hang on to or control the experience. Or maybe just plain "hang on"! When the Voice says, "listen to him!" there is urgency. The Greek is ambiguous. The imperative asks the disciples to transfer their primary discipleship loyalty from the law and prophets to this present-tense, finally-come Messiah. But the grammar also means, "keep on listening"-not just once, but continual listening. As in, "Springwater, this is for you, too. Right now and keeping on into the future, listen." We have some time-honored ways to "keep on listening." Worship is the primary vehicle for listening. Sometimes we baptize the result of this holy listening with the name "discernment." Our congregation is beginning an intentional, systematic process of discernment that we call "mission study." No congregation dares embark on an adventure of this magnitude without prayer support, and I know I speak for session and Gwen's mission study committee when I ask for your prayers of support in this process. Preceding today's call to "keep on listening" is wonder, and that is my invitation to you today. Wonder. This week I found two descriptions of wonder I'd like to share with you. The author is Stephen Doughty. "I sit in a sanctuary packed with 750 delegates. They have come from a dozen congregations on a steamy Thursday night. They fan themselves vigorously, laugh, pray, and sing each other's hymns. Then they enter into a silence as huge as the worship space surrounding them. After this they listen to speakers who clearly know what they are talking about: poverty in their city, racism, the medical needs of children, transportation needs of the elderly, deteriorating care for the mentally ill. Each speaker offers a vision of what might happen if people, living their faith, would together address the centers of economic and political power surrounding them. In the end, the delegates settle on three focal points for action. Then they laugh some more, sing and pray again. Six months ago their congregations did almost nothing together. They do not know it now, but in another six months ten more congregations will have joined in their effort; business and political leaders will have responded positively to their well-honed calls for change. As they walk into the night, an older woman calls out, 'Jesus has ahold of us, and this is wonderful!' The more reserved among us nod, 'Yes.'" It is always wonder when the community of faith addresses the needs of the community. That meeting place is literally a "thin place," a place where heaven and earth meet. It is transfiguration in its truest sense. We are changed. Wonder! The other wonder-event Doughty describes is on a more personal level. "I sit beside a hospital bed. The man on the bed starts to speak his very last words. 'I am so grateful,' he says. He says this in the context of prayer. I cannot fully see what is happening within him, but I know it has everything to do with the shrouded point on which he now stands and with the One in whose presence we have prayed. He appears wholly grasped by wonder. He repeats himself. 'I am so grateful.' Then he lets the words go as a benediction. When I leave the hospital an hour later, I carry the benediction with me as a dual gift. A gift from a middle-aged man caught in wonder. A gift from the One who was among us as we prayed. Seized by wonder, the man poured forth wonder in those four brief words. Wonder rides home with me in the car." Friends, may wonder be our benediction, may it ride home with each of us today. And may wonder accompany us as we gather around this table. Wonder is the result of transfiguration, but wonder also results in transfiguration. Change. This table is God's commitment to our transfiguration, to our change. May we be changed as a people by the Body and Blood of the One who was changed for our sake. Amen. Return to Sermons page Return to home page |