Sermon: Beyond the veil (Feb. 7, 2016)

Transfiguration of our Lord

February 7, 2016

Luke 9:28-43

            A few years back, a neurosurgeon had a near death experience, and he wrote a book about it called, Proof of Heaven, which sailed to the top of the NY Times Bestseller list. The experience was a result of a non-functioning neo-cortex; in layman’s terms, his brain was not connected to the rest of his body. As he describes it, this resulted in a “profound spiritual experience” in which he was “completely free of the limitations of [his] physical brain.” He has absolute clarity about what happened “outside” his brain. He compares his near death experience to lifting a veil. A veil can function like a filter, and so can the brain. He writes, “during the brain-based, physical portion of our experience, our brain blocks out, or veils, that larger cosmic background, just as the sun’s light blocks the stars from view in the morning.” This is a good thing, in some ways – the brain’s filter helps us focus on one thing at a time, saving us from stimulation overload. But this filter also obscures the spiritual realm, unless we take intentional steps to see “beyond the veil.”

            Today’s readings are all about what is beyond the veil. In Exodus, Moses spends 40 days on Mount Sinai talking to God, finally coming down the mountain with the 10 Commandments in hand. Yet when Moses, full of God’s radiance, comes down from the mountain, the Israelites can’t even look at him for how much his face is shining. Moses resorts to wearing a veil over his face, shielding the Israelites from God’s glory that remains reflecting off his skin. Beyond the veil is the unfiltered grace and glory of God. The veiled reality the Israelites see is just as much as they can handle.

            Then we look at the Transfiguration story, where Peter, James and John don’t get the safety of Moses’ veil; they are exposed to God’s glory in full, as Jesus becomes all bleached, shining and radiant before their sleepy eyes. And Luke tells us, they were afraid. I reckon I would be, too, to be so close to something I can scarcely take in, let alone comprehend! Up on that mountain was what is sometimes called a “thin place,” a place where the veil between heaven and earth is not so opaque, a place where God’s glory becomes known to us in a way previously unknown. It is a place where we can see beyond the veil, where we suddenly become very aware of the closeness of God.

            Beyond the veil… it is at once an intriguing and frightening concept. I want so badly, in theory, to see what is beyond the veil, to witness the fullness of God’s glory and goodness with my own eyes… even as I want to turn my face, to hide it, so that I can stay safe within my comfort zone – where I can’t see too much of God and where, I hope, God can’t see too much of me. You see, if we’re being honest, veils provide for us a certain level of safety, protection, from that which we are not prepared to take in.

Transfiguration by Jesus Mafa

            Martha Beck tells a story about when she was walking to work one day and saw what she thought was a piece of quartz lying on the ground. Excitedly, she picked it up, but was disappointed to find that it was only a piece of Styrofoam. What she thought was a beautiful treasure was only garbage. But then she realized, the piece she held in her hand had not changed at all; only her perception of it had changed. She wondered what would happen if she changed her perception of other things. As she ladled out soup that day at her humdrum cafeteria job, she tried to take off the veil – her preconceived notions about people, her judgments – and see everyone instead for their true beauty. “Of course,” she writes, “this is nearly impossible, but I did make an effort – for a few minutes. After that I had to stop, because I was so overcome by the beauty of every person in that dining hall that my eyes kept filling with tears.” “Maybe,” she concludes, “that’s why we screen out so much loveliness. If we saw people as they really are, the beauty would overwhelm us.” (Expecting Adam)

            This is what happens when we venture to look beyond the veil – we risk being overcome, vulnerable, and out of control, so we quickly put the veil back. Like the Israelites, we cannot look at God too long, because we cannot handle the unveiled radiance. And so, knowingly or unknowingly, we find ways to keep a veil between God and us:

-     *  We put up the veil of distraction, keeping so busy with our Very Important Lives that we just don’t find the time to read the Bible, or pray, or just sit in God’s presence. We keep our heads down, and focus on what is right in front of us.

-     *  We put on the veil of autonomy, and reliance on our own abilities – we don’t need God, when we are so capable of doing this all by ourselves!

-      * We put on the veil of denial or doubt – doubt that God could, really, be present even in the most mundane moments of our lives. Why would God care about our daily lives anyway? So what’s the point of looking for God there?

-      * Perhaps the thickest veil of all that we put on is making a decision about who, what, or where God is before we even give God a chance to reveal Godself. Having already decided how God is, we simply don’t leave any space for what God could be. It is the veil of containment, making God into something that fits with our own view and understanding of the world.

            So many veils we have at our disposal. So many ways to keep separation from God. It’s important to recognize this, as we begin this week on our Lenten journey. Lent is, traditionally, a time when we walk with Jesus toward the cross, preparing our hearts and minds for the sacrifice God makes for us, and what our lives mean as a result of that sacrifice and the subsequent gift of new life. This year, our theme and focus for this time will be on pilgrimage, on journeying toward the Promised Land. The concept is based on the Israelites’ 40-year sojourn through the wilderness before

they reach the Promised Land, which we are currently reading about in our Daily Bible study, as well as the fact that directly following his Transfiguration, Jesus begins his own journey toward Jerusalem, and his death and resurrection. Next week in worship, I will be inviting you to think about what is your “promised land” – that is, what is your deepest spiritual longing right now? What are you seeking, wandering through the wilderness in search of? Is it reconciliation with a loved one, or a deeper prayer life? Is it guidance on a difficult decision, or peace about a situation in your life? Whatever it is, I will invite you to make that the focus of your journey toward Easter this year, as you pray and talk with God about it. (I urge you to start thinking about it now, so you’re ready when Lent starts this week!)

            But to get to that promised land, our assortment of veils need to be left behind. And that is so much easier said than done. Discarding our veils is discarding our safety. Looking beyond the veil is convicting, and it opens us up to vulnerability, to facing difficult realities, to recognizing a need for change, to discomfort, even to fear. Beyond the veil is not a comfortable place to be.

But looking beyond the veil also opens us up to the radiance of God. It opens us up to be amazed by the splendor of the Lord. And as Paul writes in today’s reading from Corinthians, it opens us up to be transformed into the image of Christ, urging us to strive daily to live into the “child of God” identity we are given in our baptism.

And finally, it prepares us to walk back down the mountain – back into the daily struggles of life, where there is despair and brokenness, illness, longing, and disappointment. With our veil-less faces shining with the radiance of God, we are prepared to come down the mountain and be the light of Christ for this broken and needy world, bringing God’s light and love to all we meet.

Let us pray… Radiant God, how good it is for us to be here, basking in your glorious glow. Help us not to filter your goodness, but rather to see beyond the veil and experience the fullness of your love and light, so that we might bring that light down the mountain and into the world. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.