March 6, 2011

Encounter the Holy

by Rev. Dr. Jim Carlson

Mathew 17: 1-9


Have you ever been in a situation in your life when you started to wonder if a choice you had made or a direction you had taken was really the right one? And just as you’re starting to really question and doubt yourself, you get a vision, an image, a thought that reassures you that what you’re doing is right, that things will work out in the end.

Many people struggle in their lives with a sense that they are headed down the wrong path. They wonder whether or not they could have chosen a different path. They wonder whether the path they’ve chosen will bring them to the place they expected, or whether or not they will suddenly be either surprised or disappointed by the consequences of their choices.

People who live with those struggles and pressures always seek some kind of sign, some kind of comfort that validates their decisions. I think of my younger sister Linda, who recently graduated with a Masters Degree in social work from NYU.

She was a top student, and yet she hasn’t been able to find a social work position in New York that wouldn’t have her fearing for her life. She’s now working seven days a week as a cook in Manhattan. I know she wonders whether or not that time and money were a good investment.

Relationships present another example of this issue: how many people do you know who have invested themselves in a relationship, or even a marriage, and wondered whether or not they will end up being unhappy after all is said and done?

Last week I spoke with a young woman who works for a non-profit here in town. She told me that she has been living with this man whom she loves for about three years. He has partial custody of his young son, and she has come to believe that she is more of a mother to this boy than his own mother.

But her partner injured his back a few years ago and has been unable to work since. He needs an operation, but it isn’t even clear that the operation can guarantee him enough strength to go back to work. Meanwhile, she works three jobs to support them, and none of those positions offers benefits like health insurance.

I know she occasionally struggles with the question of whether or not he’s properly motivated to get back into the workforce. She told me that they were recently evicted from their apartment because they couldn’t afford the rent. Now they are separated from one another, living in friends’ homes or apartments.

Can you just imagine what a difference it would make in her life to have some kind of assurance that she hasn’t just wasted the last three years of her life on a relationship with someone who may not be able to be the kind of partner she needs? That kind of assurance would make all the difference in the world to her.

I think all of us who attempt, however feebly, to be followers of Christ wrestle with whether or not what we do here is really worth it. And let’s be honest, we sometimes have doubts about whether or not the investment we’ve made in this church and this congregation is a worthy investment.

Everyone deals with those kinds of doubts, especially if you’re someone like me who has a tendency to worry about absolutely everything . If it’s any reassurance to you, the passage for today talks about how Jesus’ closest followers wrestled with those same questions.

In the chapter that comes before this passage, Jesus asks his disciples who they think he is. They all knew he was a guy from Nazareth named Jesus. But he was asking them how they understood his life as a part of God’s overall work in history to save the world.

They recounted the opinions of others who speculated that Jesus was the return of the prophet Elijah. Elijah, an 8th century prophet, was supposed to return in some form before God ushered in a new era in history, one which included the destruction of the world as people knew it.

Other people thought that Jesus was a reincarnated form of John the Baptist. Then Jesus asked his followers who they thought he was. Peter had a light bulb go on in his mind: he said Jesus was the Messiah sent by God, God’s own Son.

Jesus confirms what Peter said, but then Peter and Jesus have an argument over whether or not Jesus was going to be the kind of Messiah Peter expected him to be. I think it must have been difficult for Peter, after investing himself in Jesus’ own ministry, to come to the realization that Jesus was not going to be this victorious, powerful leader who would also delegate power to his followers.

But in the next chapter, Peter gets the kind of reassurance that helps him stay on track. Jesus takes Peter and tow other disciples, James and John, up onto a mountain for some alone time.

Now keep in mind that this story is not just a narration of things that happened. Matthew is telling us this story in order to help us understand just who Jesus is. And if he can do that, then maybe our faith in Jesus will be stronger.

To that end, much of what Matthew tells us here is highly symbolic: it’s intended to explain Jesus’ identity using a lot of rich imagery from the Old Testament. It’s kind of a way of saying that Jesus’ own life and person are the fulfillment of what happened in the Old Testament.

And if that’s the case, then Jesus can be the savior of the world. I think that’s at least part of the point Matthew is trying to make here. It is at Jesus’ transfiguration that his disciples get a glimpse of who Jesus really is and why he can save the world.

Whenever Matthew talks about Jesus going up on a mountain, it’s a way of making him look like Moses, who went up on Mt. Sinai to receive God’s laws. Last week we talked about Jesus going up onto a mountain to teach his disciples about how to follow him.

This week Jesus also goes up onto a mountain and, as it happened with Moses, God descends onto the mountain in the form of a cloud. But before that happens, Jesus’ appearance changes. He goes from looking like a normal guy to looking like an angelic being of some type.

Jesus’ face shines like the sun, and his clothes start to glow. Later on his disciples are stunned by all that happens and they fall to the ground. Jesus touches them and tells them not to be afraid.

The reason I point this out is because those elements I just told you are common in most Jewish accounts of someone meeting an angel or a divine being. (Slide). We have an almost exact description of this encounter in Daniel 9, which is about 200 years earlier than this story in Matthew. Later on John will describe Jesus in this same way in Revelation.

So Matthew is telling us that this guy who walked around healing and preaching and performing miracles has another side to him that wasn’t apparent before. Jesus is in this world, but he also belongs to the world of angels and divine beings. And his place in that world is as God’s own Son.

As God’s own son, he is greater than all of the other revered religious in Jewish history. If you were to ask Matthew’s readers who the greatest figures in the Old Testament were, two names which would naturally be near or at the top of the list were Moses and Elijah.

Moses was revered because God gave him the law, which he wrote down for the people. That law set Israel apart, in their minds, from everyone else. And when they followed that law, it made them righteous like their own God.

But even Moses said that God would raise up another prophet who would continue to teach people. The people were supposed to listen to that prophet and follow his words. Anyone who didn’t do so would be punished.

So it makes sense that when the voice of God speaks from the cloud in this story, the voice tells the disciples to listen to Jesus. But Jesus wasn’t just a prophet like Moses that people had to heed. He was God’s own son. Moses wasn’t. So Matthew wants to reinforce that Jesus is greater than Moses.

The other person who appears with Moses and Jesus is Elijah. He was widely considered to be the greatest prophet of Israel. Like Moses, he was also invited to the top of a mountain to experience God’s presence. You might remember that in Elijah’s mountaintop experience, he sees an earthquake, a windstorm and wildfires, but he doesn’t hear God’s voice until a silence breaks out after those events.

The point of his appearance is to show that Jesus is an even greater prophet than Elijah. Elijah was renowned for his miracles. Like Jesus, he fed a large number of people with a small amount of food. He also raised a child from the dead. But he was not God’s son. Jesus is even greater than Elijah.

As you might imagine, Peter and the other disciples are shocked by this event. Peter doesn’t really know what to say, but he does know that he wants this thing to keep going for as long as it can.

He offers to build temporary shelters for Jesus, Moses and Elijah. Those shelters are reminiscent of the kinds of shelters or booths that the Israelites built for themselves while they lived in the desert on their way to the Promised Land.

But the shelters were unnecessary. It was all over pretty quickly. God descends in a cloud and says the same thing God said at Jesus’ baptism: This is my Son, the beloved, in whom I am well pleased. These words are also taken from the Old Testament prophets.

They are meant to show that whereas Israel itself or the king were identified as God’s own son, now Jesus himself is God’s son. All the love and patience and nurture that God had given to Israel over the years were fulfilled in the person of Jesus because he truly was God’s son.

After the God spoke these words, everything vanished. No cloud, no Moses or Elijah, no Jesus glowing in the dark. As they were walking away from this experience, Jesus told them to keep this little story under wraps until after he had come back from the dead.

It was kind of a backwards way of proving to them that he really would come back from the dead. If what they saw was his real nature, then it didn’t matter what the authorities tried to do to him. You can’t get rid of God’s own son by executing him. He’ll always continue to live.

But the real power of this story lies in the way it reassures his disciples that something beyond them, something beyond what they know of the world, something even beyond what they had come to believe about God, was happening.

You see, if they are convinced that what’s going on with this Jesus guy is truly empowered by God, if they come to believe that Jesus, more than anyone else, can point them to whatever it is that God is doing in the world, and if they decide that regardless of how bad things get in life, God has never really lost control of the situation, well then they realize that they have nothing to fear.

They can go forward with a kind of assurance and confidence that not even the Romans had. They know that nothing can stop them. They know that all of the power of the world, all of the forces which seemed to keep them down and oppress them were ultimately answerable to the God who had chosen them while they were sitting in boats fishing on the Sea of Galilee.

I wonder how each of us would react if we got that kind of a glimpse of hope for our own lives. As I said before, I think we all come to a point, probably many points, where we wonder if everything we’ve done is worthwhile, whether we’ve put our faith in something that isn’t quite what we expected.

We all face doubts about what we believe. It’s natural, and in a lot of cases, it’s actually a good thing. Doubt helps us face up to the parts of our faith that don’t add up. It helps us confront our blind spots and challenges us to get beyond the junk food type of faith that sells lots of books and gets preachers on TV.

At the same time, doubt should not make us waiver in our conviction that, regardless of whatever else you believe, God did save, and is saving the world through the person of Jesus Christ. We may not understand how, we may disagree on what that salvation entails, we may quibble about when.

But this glimpse of Jesus as God’s own son reminds us that our faith, and even t his world itself, points to something outside of itself, and what it points to is the God who has revealed God’s self to us in the person of Jesus.

Many of us know the American classic by Thornton Wilder, Our Town, and we sometimes ask ourselves, in seeing it again, why in the world this became a classic. The first act deals with common trivia in Grover’s Corners, New Hampshire, at the beginning of the last century, when people do ordinary things like all of us do every day.

The second act lumbers on as Emily Webb and George Gibbs get married, and live life as we have known it in all its sometimes boring simplicity. Little time is taken for reflection, pondering, altering direction, and charting new paths.

In the third act, Emily dies, but somehow she is able to watch her family from the perspective of the afterlife. Watching her husband grieving, she wishes she could go back again.

Her wish is granted and she returns on her birthday. As she watches the proceedings in the family left behind, she realizes how mundane and self-understood everything is. She wishes her mother would have talked to her more, that people would pause to reflect on how precious life is.

But nothing changes. Life goes on, and Emily returns to the cemetery, aware of how precious each moment in life can be, how opportunities are always knocking at doors that no one opens. She has seen what it’s all about. She has witnessed the world from a perspective that is beyond this world, and her view of things is completely transfigured.

How would you live differently if you had an experience like hers? If you could see beyond the mundane, beyond the politics, beyond the pettiness, and see the larger picture? How would your life be transfigured?

The good news is that through the power of God you can experience that kind of change in your life now. You and I can be witnesses of Christ's transfiguration just as surely as Peter and Jesus and John were. We are in that story too. Through faith we are with Christ in the glory of his transfiguration. And his glory gives us strength just as it gave Christ strength.

We do have crosses to bear, pains to endure, crisis to face. And as we move into Lent, our crosses and Christ's cross will occupy more of our attention. We do carry crosses, but we do not carry them by our own strength alone. We do not face any crisis in our own strength alone. In faith we see Christ's glory, and his strength becomes our strength, and his glory becomes our glory too.

Who are we becoming? That's a good question for this bridge, Sunday between Epiphany and lent. Not "Shall we become someone?" We have no choice. We are continually becoming someone different, continually changing, continually being transfigured.

Who are we becoming? Christians are continually becoming like Christ.
 

 

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