Transfiguration
Sunday (C)
February 10, 2013
Exodus 34:29-35; 2
Corinthians 3:12-4:2; Luke 9:28-43a
Grace
to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
A
few days ago, I returned from a
wonderful week at home with my family, celebrating my dad's retirement from 38
years of ordained ministry. It was a beautiful weekend, full of bountiful
expressions of love from dear people, many warm hugs and memories, and a
seemingly endless supply of tears.
And after all of that...
it was time for wedding planning! Among the most exciting events of that portion
of the trip was... I bought a wedding dress! (Or more accurately, my dad did -
happy retirement, dad!) What the store does when you are getting close to
deciding on a dress is they put a veil on you, make you look wholly like a
bride from head to toe, so that everyone cries and you decide to purchase the
overpriced, white, glowing gown. Well, I did buy the gown, and the word
"glowing" was mentioned a few times, but I was adamantly against a
veil. I have done a lot of thinking about veils over the years. Yes, it
completes the bride look. But what does it represent? Historically, of course,
it was to hide the woman's face from her groom until the moment they first met,
right before becoming husband and wife. Uh-uh, said my inner feminist, not for
me. Even if the veil wasn't to be in front of my face, I wanted nothing that
might insinuate that my husband-to-be and I had not taken every effort to know
and understand each other before entering the marriage covenant. As Paul says
in that text so famously used for weddings, which we heard last week,
"...Then we will know fully, even as we have been fully known."
Of
course I realize I'm over-reacting to veils, and I also realize that as my
marriage goes on, we will discover that there is plenty that I didn't know
about Michael, and that Michael didn't know about me - whether or not I wear a
veil on our wedding day!
Still,
all of my convictions about veils came to mind when I read our texts today, the
ones traditionally assigned for Transfiguration Sunday. First, we have Moses,
who sees God face to face and who returns from the top of the mountain with his
face glowing so brightly from his encounter with God that the Israelites cannot
even look at him. So Moses develops this system: he would talk to God on the mountain
face-to-face, would share with the Israelites what God had told him with his
face shining brightly, then in everyday life he wore a veil, so as not to blind
everyone with whom he came in contact.
I
wonder how many of us still practice a system like this. We bare ourselves
before God in prayer, perhaps sharing things we wouldn't share with anyone else
- not unlike a couple on the road to marriage. We try to be open to hearing
God's word in our lives, and we seek to develop a relationship with God, striving
to see God face to face. Then we come down from that glorious mountain we call
prayerful encounter with God, and we share with the faithful in that glory -
coming to worship together to sing praise, to pray aloud with and for each
other, to participate in the sacraments and proclaim God's glory in word, song,
and body. But then as we pull on our coats and hats to leave the building, we
also pull our veils over our shining faces, afraid to let too much of God's
glory be revealed in our day-to-day interactions - we shy from talking about
our beliefs for fear of offending, we don't want to look like "one of those Christians," who
force their faith on everyone else. So we pull down the veil, trying to blend
in, trying not to let on that we have experienced the glory of God.
The
consequences are even more than that. Not only do we find ourselves hiding our
experience of God from those we encounter in day to day life, keeping it
entirely to ourselves... But our carefully placed veils also hide us from seeing
the glory of God in the world. It's not just about avoiding offense; we are
also shielding, protecting, preventing ourselves from fully experiencing God.
A
colleague of mine named Chuck recently shared a story with me about his brief
experience as a boxer. Chuck was 5'7" and 117 pounds, and someone had the
great idea to put him in competition in the lowest weight class. Chuck would
win the weight class by default and the team could finally take home a trophy.
The plan was good - until it turned out there was someone else in that weight
class who actually knew how to box! So Chuck went in the ring, and spent the
whole round like this [hold boxing mitts in front of face]. If he could simply
protect himself until the other guy was tired, and then knock the guy out with
one punch, he might have a shot at winning. But it didn't work. Each time the
opponent punched Chuck's protective mitts, they hit his eyes, and after a
while, his eyes were swollen shut. He couldn't see, and he was knocked out. His
protective shield became his downfall.
Whether
shielding others from God's glory, or protecting yourself from the possibility
of seeing God's glory in the world: what do we miss when we live life behind a
veil? What opportunities for conversation have you missed? From what experience
have you avoided growing? What is your veil, and how has it kept you hidden
from seeing and sharing the glory of God?
This
is not a problem unique to our time and place. As is so often the case, the
biblical narrative so reflects the narrative of our own lives. Look at the part
of Paul's letter to the Corinthians that we heard today. He writes about what
hope we have in Christ, and how that hope allows us to act with such boldness,
not like the Israelites who needed for Moses to hide the glory that shone on
his face behind a veil. "Their minds were hardened," Paul writes.
They could not see the hope that Christ brings because they prefer to keep
hidden. A life that is in Christ, he says, is not this way. "When one
turns to the Lord," he writes, "the veil is removed."
Furthermore, when we allow ourselves to live in the hope of Christ, where we
allow the Spirit to be present, "there is freedom." Freedom! What a
beautiful word to our fearful ears! Freedom to see God's glory. Freedom to
share God's glory. Freedom from that claustrophobic veil that covers our eyes.
Freedom from whatever it is that binds us - our own trespasses and what others
do who trespass against us. Freedom from a need to impress anyone. Freedom from
fear and death.
In
the Transfiguration story, the part that always makes me smile for the reality
it portrays is Peter's response, and especially Luke's commentary on that
response. Peter, who is weighed down by sleep, offers to build a dwelling for
each of the three men he sees on that mountaintop - to hole them up in
permanent shelters, to keep them and their shining faces safe from the world,
and the world safe from them. And Luke adds that Peter offers this, "not
knowing what he was saying." That's so real, isn't it? How quick and eager
we are to keep God safe. We carefully read the scripture, we don't pray aloud
for fear that we'll say something wrong, we leave all the theological talk and
handling of sacred things to the pastor for fear of messing something up. And
when we do all this, all we do is veil ourselves from a relationship with God,
and with God's people. But the truth is: God doesn't need us to keep Him safe.
Turns out, God is a pretty gutsy Dude, who has already gone to great lengths to
reveal His love and glory to us - from the birth of Jesus, to a Transfiguration
on a mountaintop, to death on a cross followed by an inexplicable resurrection
from the dead. Who are we to hide that - from ourselves or others? Who are we
to keep ourselves and others from that relationship, a relationship free of
veils and hiddenness? For in Christ, we are free!
Let
us pray: God of grace and God of glory: you made us, you know us, and in
many and various ways, you reveal yourself to us. Grant us the wisdom and
courage to take away the veil, to let ourselves be fully known by you, and to
share your glory with all whom we will meet. In the name of the Father, and the
Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Johanna, A very fine proclamation of the Gospel.
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