Transfiguration (B)
February 11, 2024
Mark 9:2-9
INTRODUCTION
Always on this last Sunday before the beginning of Lent we celebrate Transfiguration Sunday, one of the church’s high holy days (you can always tell it’s important when we use white paraments!). It is the culmination of the season of Epiphany, the season of light, and we celebrate by hearing the story of Jesus on a mountaintop, shining brighter than anything we’ve ever seen on earth. It is also a turning point: in Mark’s Gospel, this is halfway through, and where the first half of the Gospel has been really fast-paced, now things will slow way down as we walk down the mountain with the disciples to enter into the end of Jesus’ life and the story of his passion, which for Mark is the main event.
We also hear another miraculous story today, that is less familiar to us: the story of Elijah being whisked away in a chariot of fire, leaving Elisha to fill his shoes. A bit of backstory on this: Elijah was a prophet who, 7 or 8 year prior, had plucked Elisha out of a field to be his protégé. The two have been inseparable since then, but now, Elijah realizes it is time to go to the next thing. Elisha knows the inevitable is coming, but is not too keen to leave his mentor’s side. They have become so close, he even calls Elijah “father.” Some roaming prophets warn Elisha of what is coming, and he wants to hear none of it. Finally, it happens: a flaming chariot comes down to take Elijah away, and Elisha is left alone with his grief, and Elijah’s mantel (a symbol of the prophetic life). Like the disciples in Mark’s story, he has to pull himself together after this incredible event, and keep on doing God’s work. It’s a stunning and heartbreaking story of the fear and difficulty of change.
As you listen to these texts today, let them, with all their emotions, just wash over you. They are colorful and dramatic texts, so rather than analyze them, just visualize them, and imagine you were there watching it happen. Let’s listen.
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| Theophanes the Greek and workshop. Transfiguration, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=59721 [retrieved February 12, 2024]. |
Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
This week my Facebook feed suggested a post they thought I’d like. It was a quote from Ernest Hemingway. It said: “It takes two years to learn to speak and sixty to learn to keep quiet.” I felt more than a little targeted!
Truth is, that was already exactly what I was hearing in our readings today. In the first reading, I chuckled at Elisha’s response to the roaming prophets, as he is anticipating Elijah’s departure. They say, “Hey, guy, did you know your master is departing soon?” And Elisha is like, “I know. Shut it.” The NRSV translation we heard makes it sound so nice with the words, “Keep silent,” but I think we can imagine the tone with which an undoubtedly fearful Elisha spoke, as he anticipates that he’s about to be stepping into some pretty big shoes, and without his mentor around to help. And then in the story of Jesus’ transfiguration, I always love Peter’s take – in response to this incredible, indescribable moment on a mountaintop, rather than just taking it in, Peter does exactly what I would do: he has no idea what to say, but he starts talking anyway. “He did not know what to say,” says Mark, “for they were terrified.” And then that voice from heaven, announcing who Jesus is – God’s son! – and then, a message that seems tailor-made for Peter and all of us who relate to him: “Listen to him!” (Stop talking, Peter, and listen!)
It takes two years to learn to speak, and sixty to learn to keep quiet!
But in truth, Peter’s response is so human, and so like my own experience of faith. I come from a long line of people who were blessed with both deep faith, and lots of education. My family tree is replete with deep thinkers – theologians, historians, educators, writers, ethicists, philosophers – and so it is no surprise that I have always approached both life and faith head-first. If something is a mystery, if I come across something that I cannot understand, well then that is just a reason to do more reading, more digging, more talking, until it can be understood.
That’s what I see from Peter in this story. Here, in this moment of Jesus’ transfiguration, and this stunning appearance of Moses and Elijah alongside him and having a chat, he is confronted with something so beyond his understanding, that he scarce can take it in. He cannot merely accept it as the glorious mystery that it is, but must try to make sense of it, sort it out, place it neatly into three dwellings that he can understand. That seems like the right thing to do, and when we are at a loss, sometimes doing or saying something, anything, is the only way we know how to respond. As theologian Karl Barth is credited with observing, “The Word became flesh – and then, through theologians, it became words again.”
More than once, my spiritual director has told me to get out of my head, and to drop into my “heart place.” What does that mean to you? How would you define a “heart place” and how do you let yourself drop in there? I suppose that a heart place is not so focused on trying to understand, as it is about experiencing. It is less Peter, chattering away through this glorious event and trying to say and do the right thing, and more the other disciples present, those who simply sit there in awe at what they are seeing. A heart place allows for tears, like Elisha’s, to flow, if that is what comes, and doesn’t try to shove the emotions away. A heart place doesn’t fill the space with words, but allows for the experience to wash over and permeate.
When we are in such a heart place, perhaps it is also easier to listen. Without the noise of our thoughts, and our messy minds, perhaps we find ourselves in a place more ready to do as that voice from heaven said: Listen to him. Listen to Jesus. As we all know, when we are busy thinking about the next thing to say or do, we are not really in a place to listen. And yet here it is, clear as day: listen to Jesus.
This week as we descend the mountain of the Transfiguration with Jesus and the disciples and enter into the season of Lent, I will be holding onto this hope and intention: that by getting out of my busy, messy brain and into my “heart place,” I might be able to make space to listen to God. I mentioned in my February newsletter article that one way I plan to do this during Lent is by journaling in the form of writing letters to God. When I journal, especially by hand, I am more able to get out of my own way, and let God’s hope and intention flow through my pen. Our Lenten theme this year is “A Seed of Joy,” and I’m also hopeful that by making space to hear God instead of our own thoughts, that seed of God’s joy might also poke up through thr ground more clearly. How often our thoughts get in the way of seeing God’s glory, God’s joy, even when it is right before us! If we can still that busyness, maybe we stand a chance at experiencing Christ’s joy, even in the midst of the penitential Lenten season.
As we move toward Ash Wednesday this week, I invite you to enter into your own self-reflection: how is it that you respond to God’s glory? What is it that keeps you from getting out of your own way, and simply experiencing it? How do you filter it out – do you, too, try to figure out it with your head? Or do you find it with your heart, or does your body let you know some other way that God’s glory is at hand? And as we enter into Lent, how will you allow God’s joy to permeate your life and journey? Will you find it with your head, heart, or body? Will you stop talking and start listening (even if you are not yet sixty years old!)?
I look forward to this journey with you, as we hold onto the hope and memory of experiencing God’s splendor, and as we look toward the ways God offers us joy, and finally as we live into the newness of life that God offers to us on repeat, whether we are listening or not.
Let us pray… God of glory, your shining presence is all around us, but we are often too stuck in our own messy minds to notice it. Help us to get out of our own way, and see the mysterious and wonderful ways that you show up in our lives. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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