Sermon: Beyond the veil (Mar. 3, 2019)

Transfiguration C

March 2, 2019

Exodus 34: 29-35; Luke 9:28-43a

INTRODUCTION

         Through the season of Epiphany, we’ve been trucking along through Luke’s Gospel and hearing all about the beginning of Jesus’ ministry. But today we will jump ahead, and hear about the Transfiguration. This is the last big event before Jesus “turns his face to Jerusalem,” heads down the mountain, and makes his way toward the cross and his inevitable death (and, spoiler alert, his resurrection).

         On this last Sunday of the season of Epiphany, when we’ve been hearing a lot about light, we get the grand finale of light: the Transfiguration of our Lord on a mountaintop! Our first two readings will set that story up for us. To do this, we hear a bit about veils, and how they have functioned in faith, and how Jesus changes all that. We’ll hear about the veil Moses had to wear after he beheld the face of God and his face shone so brightly no one could look at him. And then Paul will tell us about how, until Christ came along, we could not see God’s story clearly, as if we had a veil over our eyes.

         As you listen, think about what veil is over your face that keeps you from seeing God or getting too close to God, or maybe that keeps others from seeing God in you. Let’s listen.

[READ]

JESUS MAFA. Transfiguration, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN.http://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=48307 [retrieved March 5, 2019]. Original source: http://www.librairie-emmanuel.fr (contact page: https://www.librairie-emmanuel.fr/contact).

Grace to you and peace from God our Father and our Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

         I had the privilege of spending this weekend with 35 of our conference youth ages 6^th through 12^th grade at the annual youth event, Winter Weekend. I was asked to be the pastor for this event this year, which meant that over the course of the weekend, I was to unpack and develop the chosen theme: this year’s theme was “broken and beautiful.” With these incredible young people, we talked about how we all experience various types of brokenness, and in our insecurity we often try to hide that brokenness from others. We say, “I’m fine,” when we’re really not. We call out other people’s issues when really we are just insecure about our own issues. We try to be people we are not in order to fit in. We try all sorts of things to veil who we really are, because well, vulnerability and authenticity are really, really hard – they are hard for adults, and perhaps all the more so for young people who are still trying to figure out exactly who they are in this world, and amidst so many changes in their own lives. What if, we worry, I am exactly who I am, even who God made me to be, and people reject me?

         Of course over the course of the weekend, we didn’t stay in that place of fear. We talked about the ways that God uses what we perceive as our brokenness, those things about ourselves that we are afraid to show the world – God uses even those to shine God’s glorious light. Like a clay pot full of cracks, our own brokenness is just a way to let God’s light shine all the more brightly.

         Knowing that, and living like we know that, are two different things. And so it is that since humans were created, we have sought to hide ourselves and the light God shines through us – from each other, from ourselves, and even from God. Adam and Eve used fig leaves. Moses used a veil. And still today we find all manner of veils to hide behind – veils that keep us from seeing God, and that keep others from seeing God in us.

         In the story of the Transfiguration, Jesus shows us that veils are not the way of God. Before the disciples’ sleepy eyes, Jesus is revealed, unveiled, in all his glory. Peter, James and John don’t get to hide behind the safety of Moses’ veil; they are exposed to God’s glory in full, as Jesus becomes all bleached, shining and radiant. And Luke tells us, they were afraid. I reckon I would be, too, to be so close to something I can scarcely take in physically, 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. The youth at Winter Weekend knew that. And we know it, too: 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. So what do we do? We find different ways, different veils, that keep God from getting too close to our daily lives:

·      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, we say, 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 the season of Lent. 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. To do that preparation, Christians over the centuries have developed four traditional disciplines – prayer, service or almsgiving, study, and fasting from self-indulgence. These are all useful tools for growing deeper in faith – or you might say, they are useful for helping us to remove our various veils.

But doing 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 who said faith was meant to be comfortable? It certainly wasn’t for the disciples, up there on the mountain. It hasn’t been for hundreds are martyrs throughout history. Faith has not been comfortable for the United Methodist Church this past week, as they have grappled with deciding whether or not to welcome people who identify as LGBTQ into church-sanctioned marriage or ordination. Faith in Christ can bring us great comfort in times of trial… but there are plenty of times when faith is far from comfortable.

And the need to remove the veils we would hide behind is one of those uncomfortable times. My hope is that this Lenten season will be a time when we can all work toward removing some of those veils that keep us a safe distance from God, and I suggest doing that by using some of those traditional disciplines:

Pray. This whole Transfiguration story takes place in the context of Jesus praying. Just like any intimate relationship only thrives with honest communication, so does our relationship with God. So come to God, asking to reveal to you what veils needs to be removed, and seeking guidance about how to remove them.

Study. Dig into the Word of God and hear what God is saying to you there. Come to the midweek Bible study I’ll be offering over lunch hour on Wednesdays. Join us for soup after worship during Lent and discover how to use scripture to help you see how God was present in your high and low points during the week – and learn some ways you can have such conversations with your whole family during the week.

Serve and give. Free yourself from being focused on yourself, and serve someone else. Give away your resources to practice being more trusting of God’s grace than of your own capabilities and self-sufficiency.

Fast. Give up something you will notice, and when you do notice its absence from your life, use that as a reminder to pray – pray for someone in need, or pray that God would continue to help you look beyond the veil. Let your fast drive you back, again and again into prayer. 

I hope you will find that 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 whom we meet.

Let us pray… Radiant God, how good it is for us to be here, basking in your glorious glow. Help us 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.