Transfiguration of our Lord 27 February 2022
(Exodus 34:29-35 Psalm 99 2Corinthians 3:12-4:2 Luke 9:28-43)
“Leaving the old shoes . . . treading a new path!”
You know how, near the end of a football game, players sneak up on the winning coach from behind with a large cooler of Gatorade, ready to pour it over him as the clock winds down? On this day, I am fully aware that the clock is very much winding down on my time here as Lead Pastor at St. James. So, Pastor Andrew, just in case you’ve planned any tricky ideas connected to Gatorade, I’m on the alert, just in case I see anyone coming toward me with a big cooler ready to pounce! [A little humor!]
In our church calendar, today we celebrate the Transfiguration of our Lord, marking the end of the Epiphany season and getting ready for Lent in three days.
Today’s story, at first glance seems pretty simple: Jesus takes Peter, John and James and goes to the mountain to pray. And while Jesus is praying, the appearance of his face begins to change, his clothing becomes dazzling white, and Moses and Elijah appear, talking with Jesus. It’s a beautiful story; a captivating story, filled with intrigue.
There are many different ways to preach Transfiguration—focusing on the dazzling light; Jesus praying; Moses & Elijah; maybe the Voice from the cloud. Today I want to focus on the trip down the mountain, which Gospel-writer Luke barely mentions. But Luke does tell us what happens when they get to the bottom: they are met by a crowd and the mission begins! In our lectionary, the final seven verses are optional to read! You bet I want to read them! I want to/need to hear about the small boy seized by the demons, how he is shrieking, convulsing and foaming at the mouth! Hold on to your hats because the mission of Jesus has begun and Jesus is taking us with Him!
In 1980, I was ordained into a church-world torn apart by a Civil War in El Salvador. I was ordained literally one month to the day, following the murder of Archbishop Oscar Romero while saying Mass on a Sunday morning.
Nine months later (December of the same year), four women—three Catholic nuns and one lay missionary—Jean Donovan, Srs. Ita Ford, Dorothy Kazel and Maura Clarke were attacked, tortured, murdered and buried in a shallow grave, not far from where Oscar Romero had been martyred, only a few months earlier.
This was the church-world in which I began my ministry—sort of like coming down the mountain with Jesus and running into the anxious, angry crowd!
These five violent deaths became a significant part of the religious canopy under which I began my ordained ministry. I believe, to this day, that the killing of these individuals who were doing God’s work—teaching the poor, daring to confront violence, speaking truth to power—the deaths of these five individuals have shaped my ministry for these past 42 years.
The question most often asked of Transfiguration is: what claim does this Transfiguration story have on our lives? What claim does it have on our commitment to the Gospel?
Although I am the last one ever to suggest that we can summarize the meaning of any Biblical text with a one-sentence synopsis, today might I humbly hint to you that the story of Transfiguration is an attempt by the Gospel writer to say who Jesus is and who his disciples were and who people like us become when we are touched by God.
In the verses preceding this passage, Jesus has just articulated what is perhaps his most disturbing, difficult teaching of all: that He must suffer, die, and rise again—and that anyone who wishes to follow Him must “deny themselves, take up their cross daily and follow him” [Lk. 9:23].
So might I suggest that Transfiguration acts as a kind of reassurance and encouragement for Peter, John and James (and for the rest of us!). It’s as if Luke is saying, “We are now making the turn toward Golgotha, and that means descending the mountain into the valley of the shadow of death. But don’t be afraid, because as you go, keep this mysterious, marvelous mountaintop vision in your heart; but know, as much as we need the mountain, the mission of the church is to go into the world.” Here’s my paraphrase: Don’t just stand there feeling all holy about yourself—go live holiness among all people!
Today, I cannot help but think how this Transfiguration story—from the mountain, to the child seized by the unclean spirit, to Jerusalem—how this story is a description, not only of my ministry, but also the ministry of St. James going forward, and certainly the ministry of every Baptized person.
Here’s an alternative interpretation: not so much that Jesus had changed, but that the disciples were changed. Now they see Jesus in a different, more complete way, realizing finally as they hear the Voice, it is now for them to travel with Jesus the difficult path of discipleship!
Finally, it only feels right that I conclude today’s sermon with a poem. [A PowerPoint was used from here until the end of the sermon depicting David Whyte’s poem, Finisterre, with pictures from the Cliffs of Moher, Ireland.]
The poet is David Whyte; the poem is Finisterre- “earthly ending.” In his poem, David Whyte describes hiking a pathway. [slide-Cliffs of Moher sign] He is on the Cliffs of Moher, Ireland, looking out over the Atlantic Ocean. [slide-Cliffs, Atlantic Ocean]
Several years ago Lois and I made a week-long retreat at that very place, and while we were there, one afternoon I walked with a friend [slide-Glenn] to the rocks overlooking the water, the very place where David Whyte wrote this poem; [slide-me] and we read this poem together.
In poetic form, I think David Whyte captures the deeper sense of the journey of Transfiguration by using the image of walking a path [slide-beginning of poem], as he writes: “The road to the end taking the path the sun had taken in the western sea... [slide-Cliff path], “…and the moon rising behind you . . .” [slide-Cliff path].
He describes the courage it takes when walking any unknown trail [slide-me looking out]. He says, “. . . as you stood where ground turned to ocean . . . ” [slide-cliff, ocean] “…no way to your future now, but the way your shadow could take . . ., [slide-cliff, ocean] “. . . walking before you across the water . . . . [slide-top of cliff, wider ocean], “going where shadows go, no way to make sense of a world that wouldn’t let you pass . . . [slide-me looking out], “except to call an end to the way you had come . . . to empty your bags; to sort this and to leave that . . .”[slide-shoes] “…and to abandon the shoes that had brought you here . . . [slide-cliffs, ocean, sun reflecting] . . . right to the water’s edge . . . [slide-shoes], not because you had given up, but because now, you would find a different way to tread.” [slide-me at window], “. . .and because, through it all, part of you could still walk on, no matter how . . . . . .”
Transfiguration reminds us that when they got down the mountain, there was a different path to tread; the path changes.
This is the story of faith. This is the story of life—the story of grace!
Today, I am being called to the end of this one path I have walked for the past 42 years. Now is the time to let go of the shoes I have used to get me this far.
But today is not only about me; in fact, it really is more about you. Now is the time to begin to walk your new path.
I hear the words of David Whyte reminding us that “when we leave certain shoes behind, it’s not because we have given up, but rather, that we now have a different path to travel.” I hear Jesus telling Peter and the others, “we can’t stay here on the mountain, a new path awaits you.”
Whatever is the road each of you travel, know that you belong to each other. Hold each other and the world as tenderly as you are able. Let’s all be astounded by the greatness of God!
Let all God’s people say: Amen!
Sermons at St. James Gettysburg 