Posted by: pastor on 02/24/2009 17:40:27
Sermon - Transfiguration of our Lord - February 22, 2009
Metamorphosis
Transfiguration B 2/22/09 CLC St. Mark 9:2-9
In the Name of Jesus:
I wonder, a little bit, why we call this Festival Day the Transfiguration of our Lord. I wonder, because there is an English cognate to the Greek word that we would readily understand: metamorphosis. With a direct equivalent available, why do we call describe this event in the life of Jesus as his transfiguration?
Of course, I should probably give thanks that it isn’t named the Metamorphosis of our Lord. Our minds would probably go immediately to the Kafka novella, and I’d be preaching to a congregation picturing Jesus as an oversized, writhing insect instead of Jesus in a mysterious, blindingly dazzling mountaintop scene. A staple of high school and college English classes, Kafka’s Metamorphosis begins dramatically, with the protagonist awakening one morning to find himself in such a changed condition. The climax occurs, in a sense, at the outset of the story; his transmutation presages his decline, abandonment by his family, and eventual death.
From a literary point of view it’s interesting to note that Jesus’ transfiguration occurs at the mid-point of Mark’s Gospel, and contains elements that hearken back to its beginning—to the baptism of Jesus, with the voice of God pronouncing him the Beloved, and commanding hearers to “listen to him”—and to the end of the story of Jesus’ time on earth, to the time after his crucifixion. The unmistakable glory that surrounds Jesus—the dazzling light, whiter than white, prefigures his resurrection and ascension to the Father, otherwise absent in this gospel.
It’s as if time collapses on that mountain peak, with Jesus’ past, present and future folded in on one another. Everyone is there. His theological & historical continuity with the Law & the prophets is evident in the persons of Moses and Elijah, and the divinity he shares with the Father is on brilliant display. We glimpse both where Jesus has come from, and where he is going.
But the significance of Moses’ & Elijah’s presence goes beyond the symbolic linkages: The transfiguration occurs “six days later”—six days later than what? Six days after Peter’s impulsive confession of Jesus, the Christ—six days after Jesus had revealed to the disciples the necessity of his cross—of his death. Six days after it was painfully obvious that they didn’t get it, or couldn’t hear it. It was as if Peter had had a flash of understanding, only to douse it immediately with denial. Peter could glimpse and welcome Jesus’ glory; he could not—not yet, at least—accept that it would come by way of the cross.
Six days later, it seems, Jesus has taken his closest friends, confidantes and disciples—Peter, James and John—away, to this high mountain, to this place apart, in order to remove them from all of the distractions and daily duties that can make in-depth communication difficult. At this mid-point of Mark’s gospel account, Jesus is more and more focused on Jerusalem, on his dying there. There is no turning back as Jesus prepares to face his most difficult hour. He can no doubt use the companionship and support of friends.
Only they’re not up to the task. Peter is no Elisha. Elisha, who insists on pressing on with his mentor Elijah. Elisha, who keeps his eyes fixed on the prophet as he departs. Elisha, who is willing and able to remain steadfast through the pain of Elijah’s leaving.
But not Peter: Peter can’t even hear of Jesus’ humiliation, torture and death; and though he will insist that he will not deny Jesus, he will in fact abandon him the moment things turn grim. Already Peter is in a state of denial. So perhaps Jesus needs the companionship of Moses & Elijah to help him prepare for his journey to Jerusalem.
Jesus deserves better friends than Peter, James and John. Better disciples. Still, it is these three, along with the other equally inadequate others, whom he has called and chosen, not only to follow him for his brief ministry on earth, but to continue it after his death, resurrection & ascension.
Jesus deserves better friends & disciples than you & me; but we, too, have been called in our baptism to be his people, his body. And not only called, but changed, at the outset of our life in Christ—in the waters of holy Baptism, where our sinful selves are drowned—put to death so that we may emerge as changed people, new people, Christ’s set-apart for the sake of the world people. People who will even suffer for others’ sake. The death Jesus died on the cross so that he could be raised to live in the glory of God, we too have died, so that we may share also in his resurrected life. The white robes and holy oil prefigure the glory we are invited to share with Christ. Our transformation is not physical, of course, and sometimes, in our weakness, it’s hard to discern at all.
But from time to time we may witness in one of God’s people—or even ourselves embody—the extraordinary grace of God. I remember an old man I knew years ago. Emil had been married for years, and the expression “faithful as the day is long” could have been coined with him in mind. He was steadfast in every way. His wife suffered with mental illness, and because of it imagined that he was running around with all kinds of other women. It would have been laughable if it hadn’t been so sad. She refused to take any drugs for her illness, and had long ago stopped seeing doctors: no psychiatrists or psychologists, no medical doctors.
I suppose, then, it shouldn’t have come as a great surprise when an undiagnosed condition caused her to slip into a coma. She was rushed to the hospital and placed on life support. She would emerge from the coma, but was severely disabled, lingering for many months, on and off a ventilator, requiring physical therapy to re-learn how to eat, to swallow. She would never go home again.
But a curious thing had happened: somehow, her coma had had a therapeutic effect on her—had re-set her brain, altering the imbalance that had caused her mental illness. (Actually, I have since learned that this is not altogether unheard of.) You might say that she had been transfigured by her coma. And as she lay there in her frail condition, as likely to die in that hospital bed as to go home, Emil spoke to me with eyes filled with love and with tears, “If she dies now, it will be okay, I can accept it, because she finally knows that I love her.” Not: “because she finally returns my love,” but “she knows that I love her.”
Emil has long since died—not for the first time, but for the last. Like you & me, he had died the first time in his baptism, at the beginning of his life of faith. He had died and been raised a changed person—a new person—a transfigured person, carrying in his person the death and life of Christ Jesus. Amen.
