transfigured

The Experience of the Transfiguration

A sermon preached at Trinity by the Sea, February 7, 2016

The Last Sunday of Epiphany

The Rev. J. James Derkits

Gospel Reading: Luke 9:28-36

Introduction: Each year at the end of the Season of Epiphany, we hear a version of the story of the Transfiguration. It’s a story that’s captivated me since I started paying attention to it sometime in seminary. My preaching about, around, and toward the story continues to evolve; I've wondered what “really happened,” I've wondered if it was actually about Jesus’ crucifixion or his birth or his baptism. Now, I'm trying to just hear the story. In hearing this story, I remember some of my own mystical experiences, and how I struggle to articulate them. I remembered the cautionary words of my mentor, Pittman McGehee, warning me that the church sometimes works at protecting people from an authentic experience of God. So, this year, I sought to lead the people of Trinity by the Sea in a simple meditation. It's an effort to engage our imaginations in exploring the inner experience of the transfiguration as if we were one of those three disciples with Jesus on the mountain. It’s something to be read with the imagination engaged and the heart open. Read it slowly, and if your imagination needs to wander around for a while, follow it, and return when you are ready.

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You’re not sure why he asked you, out of all the 12, but you’re certainly not complaining.

It had been a very busy time, since he first called you, away from work, away from nets, telling you that he had more important work for you to do.

You knew that being his disciple, following him as your teacher, would bring some change to your life, and that you would be learning things, but you had learned and seen things you never expected, could not have imagined, and could hardly even understand.  

Just this month, you had seen Jesus heal people who were sick, and people who were possessed. You had seen Jesus start teaching and people gathering...what seemed like TOO MANY people gathered--so many that some of the disciples were afraid. When it was dinner time after the teaching, that’s when things got really strange. Jesus asked us to feed the people, an impossible feat. And yet, when he took, blessed, broke, and gave the loaves and fish we gathered, he was able to feed everyone, with baskets left over.

So much had been happening. So many confusing and seemingly impossible things had happened.

Now, he invites you to come away, up a mountain, to pray.

Maybe on the way to or from the mountain, you would have a chance to ask for some explanation. On the way there, you are too tired to ask. You’re already thinking about taking a nap when Jesus goes off by himself to pray, which he always does. The others are just as tired, so they could probably use the rest, too.

As you’re walking up the mountain, you start to joke about the story of Moses going up the mountain. Everything changed for Moses and the people after they saw him go up and talk with God and then come down with his face veiled because it was shining after being in God’s presence.

But those were old stories; that was a long time ago. You strike up a conversation with Peter about what all the people in town have been saying about Jesus: “Why do they think he’s Elijah?” “He’s doing amazing things, all the healing and feeding, but he’s not Elijah, he’s Jesus.” “I think he’s attracting too much attention.”

Jesus looks back and smiles, and leads on. “Just a little further, he says.”

Up on the mountain, Jesus begins to pray, but he doesn’t go off alone as he usually does. He wants us to pray with him. We’re all tired, but we do pray. You’re afraid to close your eyes for too long, because you know you will fall asleep.

That’s when it happens. You know it was just the three of you who went up there with Jesus--you look up and see two people standing there talking to Jesus, and you see Peter and John sitting near you.

The stories of Moses and Elijah come bursting to life right before your eyes. When Moses went up the mountain to talk with God and received the commandments.

And when Elijah went up the mountain and saw God not in the whirlwind, nor the earthquake, nor the fire; God came to Elijah in the silence.

There in the silence on that mountain, suddenly you think you see Moses and Elijah, right here, speaking with Jesus. And Jesus looks….different...he’s shining like gold. It’s like light is coming from within him. You can almost feel the heat, like the sun is shining right down on your face. You can’t even speak you are so amazed.

Finally the light begins to fade, and Moses and Elijah are going away, and that’s when Peter breaks the silence. He says what you’re thinking. He doesn’t want this to end, he wants to stay right there on the mountain, he want’s to set up tents for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah. He wants this experience to go on.

Jesus doesn’t answer, but someone does: Like thunder from the cloud a voice speaks from surprisingly close by, saying, “Listen to my son.”

And when the echo fades, it’s just the four of you.

No light, no thunder, no prophets.

No tents have been built, no rest, nothing.

Just the four of you, and you wrestle to understand what just happened.

You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing. You do nothing, you just follow Jesus back down the mountain.

All you have is the memory of that heat and light from Jesus, and the vision of him there with Moses and Elijah.

You  may never know why he chose you to go up and see that,

but he did. He chose you to see who he really was.
He chose you to catch a glimpse his glory in God’s kingdom.

And that was enough to keep you following.

Beyond fatigue. Beyond doubt.

You followed on, to the end.