Matthew 17:1-9
February 23, 2020
Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood
First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS
It’s a bookend kind of Sunday. As we stand on the threshold of the season of Lent we are gifted this wonderfully bizarre story of the Transfiguration of Christ. It’s been noted that the season of Lent begins and ends with mountaintop experiences - today we hear the story of Jesus, Peter, James, and John traveling up a high mountain where they experience a revealing, unveiling, foreshadowing moment in time. The season of Lent will end on another mountain of sorts - on a “hill far away” when Jesus is crucified. Two very different mountaintop experiences, to be sure.
It’s not just the mountains that bookend Lent. It’s the people, too. Here before the season begins we are accompanied by Peter, James, John. In today’s story they are with Jesus on a mountain. And the end of Lent they will be with Jesus in a garden. In both locations there are similar themes: the question of who they understand their friend Jesus to be and the exploration of what it means to be a faithful disciple in light of that understanding.
One more bookend: here on this final Sunday of the season of Epiphany we hear echoes of a story from the beginning of Epiphany. Remember when we traveled with Jesus and his cousin John into the wilderness of Judea and, there, Jesus was baptized in the Jordan River? A voice boomed from the heavens as Jesus came up out of the water. These same words are repeated on the mountaintop in today’s story much later in Matthew’s gospel. Let’s say them together now.
This is my son, the Beloved;
with whom I am well-pleased.
Only now, on the mountaintop with Peter, James, John, Moses, Elijah, and a glowing Jesus we get one more statement from the heavens:
Listen to him!
Perhaps the divine voice was feeling more optimistic back at the beginning of our story. But now, 17 chapters in, God feels the need to emphatically command the disciples: LISTEN TO HIM!
Why? Are the disciples having a hard time listening? Or perhaps the Divine Voice is becoming more emphatic on this point because time is running short. We’re not told. The description of whatever it is that takes place on that mountaintop leaves lots of questions unanswered. Jesus “is transfigured” (whatever exactly THAT means) and his face shines like the sun (which, of course, isn’t something that usually happens to humans) and his clothes are a dazzling white (very odd in an era without front-load washers and bleach). Moses and Elijah, those great prophets of old, come out of nowhere and begin to chat with Jesus.
Peter offers to build three tents - one for Moses, one for Elijah, one for Jesus. We’re not told what motivates him to do so. And then a bright cloud comes and from it, The Voice, saying
This is my son, the Beloved;
with whom I am well-pleased.
Listen to him!
The disciples fall to the ground and are afraid. Jesus comes them and touches them, saying
Rise up. Don’t be afraid.
The disciples look up and the prophet-visitors have left. Only Jesus remains.
Just as bookends hug things together, keeping them upright and accessible, this story holds the truths of two important paths together in a cohesive way. Within our faith there is the story of the Descending Way. [1] The last become first, Jesus says. We gain our lives by losing them. It is only through emptying ourselves that we see we are truly filled.
The Descending Way recognizes that it is often through our moments of frustration that we experience growth. The Descending Way knows that seeds start to spring to life only when they seek deep into the darkness of the soil. The Descending Way is very familiar with the trials and tribulations of the human condition - our failures, our pain, our dullness. The Descending Way reminds us that even in those difficult times, we are not alone. We live in God’s world. And God has never shied away from descent. While the world may tell us we have to go up, up, up, the Descending Way reminds us that there is vast beauty and wisdom found in the low places, the shadows, the depths.
If we read this story through the lens of the Descending Way, we feel the tinge of despair that lingers. Peter, desperately trying to hold on to this miraculous moment with Jesus, Elijah, and Moses. Foolishly, he grasps at air, thinking the metaphysicalaity of this mountaintop experience could be contained, understood, held onto with two hands. It might be good to try and stay here but the Descending Way reminds us mountain-top moments don’t last long. Before we know it we’re descending down the mountain, listening to Jesus as he makes cryptic references to his death.
When we read this story through the lens of the Descending Way, we notice that the disciples never seem to get it. Try as they might, their dull minds cannot grasp the reality of who Jesus is. Even when a voice booms from the heavens they are left scratching their heads, confused, arguing over details on their journey rather than realizing the fullness of the Christ who stands in front of them.
The Descending Way is present in this story. But like two cozy, sturdy bookends it stands on our shelf with its faithful companion in the faith: the Ascending Way.
Within our faith, co-existing right alongside the truths of the Descending Way, the Ascending Way whispers to us of moments of unexpected victory. The underdogs, the ones no one would have expected to win, come out on top again and again in our sacred texts. Humans soar to incredible heights. Time and time again, followers of the Way find joy and clarity and wisdom and brilliance. Our teacher drops truth bombs that enlighten, love wins, hope is found.
There is, of course, no greater symbol of the Ascending Way than the Resurrection. Just when all seems lost, hope is found. Just when fear looms large, justice and pace bloom like a supernova. When we can’t seem to find the path forward, the light of love quietly illumines with clarity and confidence. Death does not have the final say, love does. This hope in Resurrection is at the very heart of what it means to be Christian.
And, so, too, the Ascending Way shines brightly in this text. The heart soars to think of Moses and Elijah together….legends, leaders, triumphant figures. And there they are on a mountaintop. A literal mountaintop! Accompanied by Jesus who is somehow shining brightly like the noonday sun. The whole idea is so wonderful it seems to defy explanation.
The vision of Jesus on a mountaintop, brilliantly blazing like the sun is like a bright beacon flashing, clamoring for our attention. “Pay attention,” the gospel writers urge. “BIG STUFF IS ABOUT TO HAPPEN HERE.” Peter is paying attention, for sure. And perhaps his desire to build those tents wasn’t about a foolish desire to hold on to a moment that can’t last - or a misunderstanding of who Jesus is. What if, instead, Peter built those tents because he was living out Jesus’s call to hospitality and he wanted to warmly welcome the prophets in his midst? What if Peter knew exactly who Jesus was and understood that the end was near? Maybe Peter was simply moved by love for his friend and wanted to keep him there on that mountain just a bit longer, safe from the threats that awaited them in the near future. Perhaps Peter was just doing what any faithful follower would do….try to sit at Jesus’s feet a bit longer, soak up his wisdom while he still could, simply be together and enjoy the time they had left.
I don’t fully understand what Peter or the other disciples experienced because the words here just don’t do it justice. We seem to get a hint of that same discombobulated feeling that comes through in the various accounts of Christ’s Resurrection. Everything within us strains to say, “Huh?” even as we read the testimony of our faith ancestors who point and gesture at the miraculous nature of whatever it is they experienced through the presence of Jesus.
The Ascending Way of our faith invites us to hold on tight to the fantastic, death-defying, unreasonably large, unbelievable parts of our gospel texts. These stories might not always make sense, but if we accept the invitation to step inside and stay awhile we are rewarded with incredible mountain-top views.
The Ascending Way and Descending Way are both present in our faith. And they are both present in this story. The Ascending way beckons us into bright-shining-brilliance, offers clarity, and pulls us up to the top of mountains as we await the promise of Resurrection. The Descending Way accompanies us when we are pulled low, when the path is less clear. When dullness or confusion threaten to overwhelm, the Descending Way promises that God is not absent in the low places. The Descending Way encourages us to stay calm, take stock, turn in and hold on...even when it feels hard.
Held together by these two very different aspects of our Christian faith, the Ascending and Descending Ways work in tandem to offer Truth and hope. On any given day we might feel drawn by the path of Descent - emptying ourselves with the faith that God exists even in absence. Or we may feel pulled into the path of Ascent - climbing and striving to overcome, surmount, reach to the heights and fly with the angels.
Both paths are a part of our faith. Isn’t that a beautiful thing?
No matter how we read this story on any given day….no matter how little sense it makes...there is one aspect of this Transfiguration story that is remarkably clear. A voice speaks from the heavens:
This is my son, the Beloved;
with whom I am well-pleased.
Listen to him!
Listen to him. And when we listen to the voice of Jesus in this text he says just one thing and says it very clearly.
Rise up.
Don’t be afraid.
Friends, there’s hardly a clearer articulation of our call anywhere else in scripture. A mountain-top moment, indeed. Jesus, our teacher, our leader, our ruler and savior speaks to us these words of comfort and calling:
Rise up.
Don’t be afraid.
May it be so.
NOTES;
[1] With gratitude to Richard Rohr for the concept of Ascending and Descending religions. Rohr makes the argument that Christianity is a Descending Religion.
