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Transfiguration! Whose?
The Last Sunday after the Epiphany (Year A, RCL)
February 3, 2008
The Reverend Paul R. Abernathy, Rector
Peter, James, and John must have been natives of my home state of Missouri! Being those for whom only seeing was believing, apparently, they must
have said to Jesus, “Show me!”
Jesus ascends a mountaintop, taking with him Peter, James, and John. There, having found what the ancient Celts called a “thin place” where two worlds
– this world and the “other” world – meet, Jesus steps into the sphere of nontemporal, nonspatial eternity. So it is that Moses and Elijah, long gone
for generations, appear. So it is that the face of Jesus “shone like the sun”[1] – not with reflected, but, rather, radiated,
effulgent light. So it is that Jesus manifests his greatest epiphany, his greatest revelation of his identity, his greatest showing forth of his
divinity. Presumably, Peter, James, and John, seeing, believe.
Remember, as Matthew tells it, this great moment comes at the midpoint of the Jesus-story. After the call of the disciples, after the
first miracles, after the initially small, and then, expanding geographic swath of Jesus’ itinerant ministry, after the early, and then,
increasingly contentious encounters with religious and secular authorities who saw Jesus as a threat to their status quo of zealously guarded privilege
and before Jesus’ inexorable turn toward Jerusalem and the destiny of suffering and death that awaited him.
At this critical turning point, Jesus asked his disciples, “Who do you say I am?”[2] Peter answered, “The
Messiah.”[3] His identity confirmed (and who, once having launched a great mission, wouldn’t want to know whether his
friends and followers really knew his person and his purpose?), it was essential for Jesus to declare what kind of Messiah he was. One who would save,
spare the people from suffering or one who, by suffering, would save? No doubt, the disciples, had they been given a vote, would have chosen the former.
No doubt, they were saddened, scandalized to hear Jesus speak of his suffering and dying. So shocking was Jesus’ confession that surely the
disciples wondered, even feared – Have we made a tragic mistake? Is Jesus really the Messiah? Our Messiah?
So it was that Jesus said to his disciples, “Some of you will not die before you see the Messiah in glory.”[4] So it was that
Jesus ascended a mountaintop, taking with him Peter, James, and John.
Some accept the inexplicable, the inexpressible on faith. Some, even, on blind faith. Others demand, dare to see. Peter, James, and John, I think, must
have been like this. Like me. From Missouri.
But what was it they beheld? An epiphany. Yes. A revelation. Yes. But whose?
Matthew would say, Jesus, for it was a theophany, an appearance of God. I will say ours. For through this strange story, we behold a vision of
our destiny. To be transfigured. Metamorpho-sized. Changed.
A wise person once said that we are not so much human creatures seeking to become spiritual, but, rather, spiritual beings seeking to become human –
which I interpret to mean that each of us has, is a life force – in its essence, pure – that has been incarnate in flesh and bone and blood so that
we, in time and space, in this world, in this life, in our living might have a beneficial effect on everyone and everything around us.
In this, we always are in the process of being who we are and becoming not who we are meant to be, but who we – in spirit, as spirit – already
are. Yet, in this, because there is ever a difference, paradoxically, between who we are and who we already are, we always are called to be
transfigured, metamorpho-sized, changed. In this, there is pain and suffering. Far easier it is to stay where we are, who we are, as we
are. It is a place we know. A place of no surprises. But often enough it is place spare, small, and bare. A place of little growth. A place of the
withering away of the soul. A place of slow dying, even as we live. A place called “hell.”
We, spiritual beings seeking to become human, are called to change, which always involves pain. But, as Christians, Jesus is our Messiah, and,
therefore, he is the lens through which might we see ourselves. And I do not believe that he, as Messiah, came to save us from suffering, but, rather,
through his suffering, saves. Yet, that is only true to the extent that we follow him into our transfigurations as we continue to become who
we already are.
One other thing… Should we, individually and as a community, dare embark on this journey with Jesus, a question is, for what, for whose purpose?
Our own? Or for others?
As we read on in Matthew’s gospel, when Jesus, Peter, James, and John came down from the mountaintop, their first encounter was with a father who
pleaded for the healing of his epileptic son.[5] Jesus healed the boy.
I take this to mean that whatever transfiguration, change, new life we experience on the mountaintops of our personal epiphanies, we are to share
with others.
The nine disciples who were left behind while Jesus, Peter, James, and John were up on the mountain, later poured out their sorrow to Jesus. Earlier,
the father had brought his son to them with the same request, yet, their efforts bore no good effect. They asked Jesus, why? He answered, “Because of
your little faith. If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move,” and it will move. Nothing will be impossible
for you.”[6]
This I take to mean that it only takes but a little faith to dare to follow Jesus along the long road to Jerusalem, the road to our destiny, a destiny
that always involves the pain and suffering of change and growth.
The question always is do we, as a people and as a parish, have even a mustard seed of faith? And if we do, will we use it?
Choose.
[1] Matthew 17.2. The gospel passage appointed for the day is Matthew 17.1-9.
[2] Matthew 16.15
[3] Matthew 16.16
[4] Matthew 16.28
[5] Matthew 17.14-18
[6] Matthew 17.20-21
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