Overruled

Mark 9:2-10

Transfiguration of the Lord

     I am terrified of mountain lions; the thought of being eaten by something is just the worst.  But I like walking, and sometimes I find myself out walking before the sun is even up.  So of course, every twig snap or rustling bush I hear is terrifying to me. 

     Around here, that may not be the most irrational of fears.  I confess this fear to you because that’s what we’re doing today, we’re confession our deepest fears, and I went first.  Who’s next?  Just kidding.  No one likes to admit their fears.  Admitting to one another the things that scare us is scary in itself.  We won’t be sharing our fears with one another this morning, but I think we can at least agree that we all have them: things like public speaking, or spiders, or change.  Fear is unpleasant, but fear is normal; fear, to a point, is good for us; and as we’ll explore this morning, fear at times can be useful to teach us. 

     We read today that the transfiguration of Jesus was terrifying to the disciples.  In the Gospel of Mark, there are only three times when they are this kind of terrified: when they see Jesus walking on water; here at the Transfiguration; and when they find the Tomb empty on Easter Morning.  Each time, the kind of fear that Mark describes is not the kind of fear one might heroically overcome (like walking in the dark in mountain lion country).  No, this is the kind of sheer terror that might, if unchecked, make you do something you’re not going to be proud of like running away, or acting out, or even getting frozen in place. 

     It strikes me that, every time the disciples were so terrified, it was because they had been exposed to the glory of God in Jesus.  It also strikes me that terrifying us might not be what the revelation of God’s glory is supposed to do.  The evidence of God’s presence and power ought to be a joyful thing, right?  But then again—and I’m just throwing this out there—maybe God does scare us on purpose sometimes.  Sure, it is not the will of God that we live in fear; but you have to admit, fear can motivate us to get moving sometimes. 

     I think that a good place to start with this well-worn Transfiguration story is to ask this question: what do we actually believe about the Transfiguration?  Now, I ask this not to cast any sort of doubt on the historical accuracy of the Transfiguration; quite the opposite.  There are good reasons to believe that this fantastic story actually happened, and that it happened in the way Mark describes. 

     Although account of the Transfiguration in the Gospel of John is only alluded to, the other Gospels tell it in exactly the same way.  With small variations, it is told with almost identical details and it is always told in exactly the same context.  That’s surprisingly rare in the Gospels: even when the they tell the same stories, often these stories are told with different details, in different contexts, and have a different point, depending on who is telling it.  But not the Transfiguration; here the Gospel writers are almost-literally on same page.  It is as if—as Jesus commanded—they kept this story a secret until after the Resurrection; then, I imagine, these three told it all over the place!

     I mean, can you imagine seeing something spectacular like that and then have to keep quiet about it?  If nothing else, I’d want to talk about the many question I have about it.  What were Moses and Elijah doing there?  How did they even get there?  What made Jesus’ appearance change?  Did we really hear the voice of God?  I think that keeping all of that stuff bottled up would just make a person crazy.

     That aside, we remember that it’s in the context and wonder of the Empty Tomb that this story was told to the other followers of Jesus; and most importantly, it was told by those three eye-witnesses to the event.  Now, you can read “poetic license” into other parts of Scripture if you want to, but I wouldn’t doubt the Transfiguration if I were you. 

     So I’ll ask my question again: what do we believe about the Transfiguration?  Well, we believe it happened and it happened in the way that Mark describes it.  And we also believe that it was meant to be told in the context of the Resurrection; in the context of the new and terrifying thing that God was doing through the Risen Messiah.  These fearful, bewildered followers of Jesus, were meant to hear a story about a time that these three were once fearful and bewildered.  We hear a story of when we were once terrified, when we are again afraid, to remind us that, by the power of God, it might just turn out okay once more. 

     It’s a bit like what I hope our annual reports will do for future generations of this church.  An annual report is a snapshot of who we are as a church; a kind of family portrait that we take every year as the children of God.  I think, as you read through the reports, you’ll agree that we take a good picture.  We are a handsome bunch.  We have every reason to hear the Voice of our Savior telling us, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”  But as you read these reports, you may also get the sense that things are not all rainbows and unicorns, if you know what I mean.  You may hear in these reports, the feeling that we are not thriving like we should.  In spite of all the good we do in Christ’s name in this world, we are not growing. 

     I refuse to believe that the Spirit of God planted this church in this community, only to sputter out 120 years later.  No, we are meant to thrive and our community is meant to hear and celebrate with us the Good News of our Risen Savior.  Who we are today is not who God intends us to be.  So our reports might also reflect an uneasy feeling at this point in our history; one might even call it “fearful;” fearful for an uncertain future.  But maybe what we ought to be afraid of is that God might just do something about it; that the glory of God might just be revealed in this. 

     Now, I mentioned that this story was meant to be kept secret until after the Resurrection, but I haven’t yet explained the context of the story itself.  In every telling of this story, it always begins the same way: they say, “About a week later, they go up the mountain.”  That thing that happened, about a week earlier, was that the followers of Jesus recognized him as the Messiah.  Jesus then goes on to explain that their understanding of “Messiah” is wrong: that what Messiah really means involves suffering and dying, but ultimately rising again.  They of course, don’t understand what he’s talking about.  And then about a week later, the Transfiguration happens.  This is important.  It’s important because this story is all about how they have misunderstood who Jesus was and what he was talking about.  This is important because we might still. 

     No doubt, at our upcoming Church-Wide Workshop, we will talk a bit about our core values; values like being a welcoming and open congregation.  Historically, this church has prided itself in being open to anyone.  There is no doctrine you have to agree to before you join; you only need to affirm that Jesus Christ is your Lord and Savior.  What you mean by that is for you to work out every day.  But having said that, what we understand about Jesus is no light thing.  What we believe about Jesus doesn’t change him at all, but it changes how we serve him in the world. 

     About a week before, the disciples affirm that Jesus is the Messiah, but they don’t really know what that means.  Can you imagine if the disciples never learned what “Jesus as the Messiah” meant?  Can you imagine if they forged ahead and began a church that thought Jesus the Messiah was a conquering hero and a political leader?  You don’t have to imagine it; it happened anyway and it still happens today.  The larger church still has a hard time getting its head around what Jesus meant by “Messiah.”  Perhaps that’s why we don’t always embody his self-giving love.  Perhaps that’s why we try to rule the world instead of trying to bring the Gospel to it.  Perhaps we need God to put terror in our hearts once more. 

     If you look closely, the disciples actually get frightened twice in this story.  Each illustrates what terror might do in our lives.  The first time is the obvious: they see the glory of God literally shining in Jesus and they literally get scared silly.  I can just imagine the three disciples talking about this after the Resurrection: John says to Peter, “Hey Pete, remember how you wanted to build cabins.”  Then they all laughed.  In his terror, Peter not only says something he would later not be proud of, but it’s rooted in something else we do when we’re afraid: he wanted to stay put.  Sometimes when we’re afraid, that fear freezes us into not wanting to do anything at all.  We’re not meant to live like that; not as people and not as a church. 

     Fortunately, God scares them again.  No sooner has Peter asked his silly question does a cloud descend upon them like it did on Moses.  The Voice of God answers Peter’s question: “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!”  Perhaps we could read the word “finally” into that as well.  Listen to him, finally, when he talks about himself.  Listen to him, finally, when he says being the Messiah means giving his life for the sake of the world.  Listen to him, finally, because there is work to be done. 

     Mark doesn’t tell us that the Voice of God scared them, but of course it did.  This time their fear does the other thing that fear will do: the next thing we know is, they are all alone with Jesus and coming back down the mountain.  This time, the fear moves them into action.  The fear God sets on us, even on the verge of God’s new and terrifying thing, is not meant to freeze us up or make us act out.  The terrifying Voice of God is meant to get us moving again. 

          This story, meant to be told in the light of the Resurrection, is meant to scare us, in a good way.  This story is meant to remind us of what our Savior’s glory really means: to listen and hear him when he says that it’s not about shinning white clothes, but about self-giving love.  May we hear the terrifying Voice of God, just enough to move us into action; to move us toward whatever our Savior has for us next.