Transfiguration (NL4)
February 11, 2018
John 9:1-41
INTRODUCTION:
Today is the
day in the church year when we celebrate the Transfiguration. Normally, we hear
a story that can be found in Matthew, Mark and Luke, in which Jesus goes with
three of his disciples up a mountain, and he is transfigured before them, becoming
bright white, and Moses and Elijah appear with him. The disciples are terrified
by this glory of God being revealed, and Peter says, “It is good for us to be
here!” and says he wants to build a dwelling for everyone, so they can stay
forever. But then everything returns to normal, and they all troops back down
the mountain and, we come to find out, start heading toward the cross. It is
the hinge that brings us from Epiphany, the season of light, into Lent, the
season in which we prepare for Christ’s passion and resurrection.
Well today
is Transfiguration, but we’re reading through the Gospel of John, and that
story doesn’t appear in John. Why not? Perhaps it is because John’s entire
Gospel is about God’s glory and light being revealed through Jesus’ signs. That
blinding light already appeared, in the manger at Christmas, and has appeared
several times since, including, we will see today, when Jesus heals a man who
has been blind since birth. So far, the presence of that light on earth has not
caused too much trouble – today, all of that changes, as we see the impact that
change and healing really can have on us. This reading is 41 verses long, really
longer if you count the discourse that follows (which we will hear on Ash
Wednesday), but the healing itself only takes seven verses. The remaining
verses are dedicated to the aftermath, to people trying to place blame, assign
logic, and understand what exactly happened and what it means. Of course, Jesus
told them outright: it means that he is the “light of the world,” sent to
scatter darkness and bring healing and wholeness in ways that transcend logic,
and might even transcend what we are comfortable with. Let’s see what happens…
[READ]
Grace to you and peace from God our
Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.
There was a
woman who lived in Charlottesville, VA for many years named “Anna.” She told
people that she was in fact Anastasia Romanov, the daughter of the last Czar of
Russian. Many people believed this – it was such a compelling story! After she
died, researchers acquired remains of her DNA from a Charlottesville hospital.
They compared her DNA with that of members of the Romanov family in North
America and in Europe. And guess what? She was an imposter, not Anastasia, and
not a member of the Romanov family. She was a Polish factory worker with a
history of mental illness. One of her neighbors, however, didn’t want to give
up the story. He believed that she was who she said she was, and so when he was
told of the DNA results, he immediately responded, “I don’t believe it,” and
proceeded to list reasons why the DNA test must be inaccurate.
It’s called
cognitive dissonance: when reality does not confirm expectations, and so people
continue believing what they believed previously, even against evidence to the
contrary. This is not an unfamiliar concept to us. We see it in politics, in
our families, in our neighbors, and if we’re honest, we see it in ourselves. No
one likes to admit that something that they ardently believe could be wrong! We
don’t like to have our worldview challenged, much less debunked. So we choose
to interpret the evidence in such a way that it fits with what we believe in our
heart to be true.
That
cognitive dissonance is what makes up the bulk of today’s Gospel reading. The
disciples start us off by indicating their worldview: if this man was born
blind, he or his parents must have done something to deserve it. They must have
sinned, because that’s the only way such a tragedy makes any sense. And so when
Jesus not only says, “Nope, that’s not true,” but also heals the man (and on
the Sabbath, no less!), their reality is shattered. They scramble to explain:
maybe this isn’t the man? Maybe he wasn’t really blind? Maybe Jesus is a
sinner. Surely, there is a way to fit this into how we know the world works!
They couldn’t accept the possibility that, not only was this man transformed from blind to seeing,
but their very understanding of how life works was also transformed.
What an
interesting commentary on human nature this is. The new worldview that Jesus
offers is a life-giving one: one in which light wins over darkness, in which
sin does not get the final word, in which healing is possible. It is one not
bogged down by keeping the letter of the law, but rather, lifted up by the
promise of eternal relationship with God. These are good things! But with the
exception of the man who was formerly blind, everyone, even his own parents,
refuse the transformation.
And this may
very well be the case with us, too. We do not like things to be different from
what we already know so well, even if what we know is not really all that good.
And so we might look at ourselves in the mirror and see ourselves not for our potential,
but for everything that has ever been wrong with us. We are held back by our
failures, our setbacks, our disappointments. Or, we look at others this way,
only seeing them for who they were, how they failed, mistakes they’ve made or
people like them have made, rather than for what they could contribute to the
world or even to our lives. Isn’t it interesting that when the man suddenly can
see, his own friends don’t even recognize him! They knew him only as the man
who was born blind. How could he possible be anything else?
How does
that feel, to be placed in a box like that? How does it feel to be labeled, and
for people to assume that this is all there is to you? How does it feel to do
that to yourself? I’ll tell you how it doesn’t
feel: it doesn’t feel like life. It doesn’t feel like hope. It doesn’t feel
like wholeness.
This week
begins the season of Lent. Our theme for Lent this year is Healing and
Wholeness. I spent this week writing several reflections on this topic for our
Lenten devotional. One was on the story toward the beginning of John, where
Jesus comes upon a man sitting by a pool, who has been ill for 38 years. Jesus
asks him what he is doing; he says he is hoping to be healed. Jesus asks him,
“Do you want to be made well?” I was so captivated by this question! It’s so
obvious: yes, of course I want to be made well! Why do you think I’m sitting
here? Why would I want to continue in this way of dis-ease? And yet, how often
do we look at our lives, see the areas in need of healing – in our bodies, yes,
but also in our hearts, our minds, our work satisfaction, our relationships,
our finances, our perspectives on life – we see where we need healing, and yet
do nothing about it? Do you want to be
made well? Well yes, but only if I don’t have to change. Only if I don’t
have to face the fear of something different from what I’ve known for so long.
Only if it doesn’t mess with the worldview to which I’ve grown accustomed. Only
then do I really want to be made well.
Sound
familiar? It is to me! Quick example: After holidays and the cold weather
preventing me from getting out and moving as much as I’d like, I decided I
could stand to lose about 5 pounds. Easy, right? And so every day, I get up, do
exactly what I’ve been doing, eat the same food, and dutifully check the scale.
And it’s the funniest thing – that number hasn’t changed yet! Go figure, right?
But if there
is one thing we have seen again and again as we’ve read through John’s Gospel,
it is that when Jesus shows up… things have to change. Lack turns into
abundance when water is turned to wine. Former ways of worshiping are literally
turned on their sides when Jesus enters the Temple. Centuries-long divisions
between Jews and Samaritans are broken down. The despised become the beloved.
Eyes and hearts are opened, indeed, they are transformed. When one encounters
Jesus, things change, and life becomes abundant.
It sounds
good… until we realize how very disruptive even a positive change can be. It is
much less disruptive just to keep on keeping on in the same patterns we’ve
always had, damaging, stifling, or unhealthy as they may be, rather than risk
even the new life Jesus offers.
After
worship today, we will hold our annual meeting. We will discuss several topics
that have stemmed from a need for change. For instance, how we structure our
ministry here, our council and committees. What we’ve done has worked for many
years… but does it continue to bring life to this congregation? What does
“life” even look like in terms of a congregation’s ministry structure? To me,
it looks like joyful service and listening to the Spirit’s movement, and
stepping out in faith. Does our current structure do that? What could? Another
topic is the role of the pastor in a shared ministry. Bethlehem has had many
fruitful years with a pastor serving solely at Bethlehem. The Spirit led
Bethlehem into a covenant relationship with another congregation, which brought
new life – but also necessarily changed the role of the pastor. So we will be
talking today about how that looks. Part of it looks like the possible need for
an earlier worship time, which we have been trying out for several months
already. This, too, is a change that maybe some have been resistant to. But is
it a change that could bring new life?
Not all
change is good. Sometimes God’s voice is heard in our resistance to it. But whatever it is we face that is challenging
our old worldview, or the way we see ourselves or other people, Jesus calls us
to examine: where can life be found most abundantly? Where can the light of the
world most brightly shine?
I hope that
during our meeting today, and in this upcoming Lenten season, that you will
take some time to reflect on these questions, for us as a congregation, and
also for yourself. Next week I’ll be inviting you to make some healing goals
for yourself to focus on and pray about during Lent. Where is Jesus smearing
mud on your eyes and telling you to wash, so that you may see? What aspect of
your life needs healing? What worldview are you clinging to, that may be
keeping you from being able to enter new, abundant life?
Let us pray…
Life-giving God, open our eyes to see
where you might be working to transform our worldview. Give us the courage to
step into a new life, into a deeper relationship with you. Help us to say, with
the man born blind, “Lord, I believe.” In the name of the Father and the Son
and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
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