sermon excerpts: The View from Here (Luke 9: 28-36)

... Transfiguration is hard to explain: metamorphosized, transformed, physically altered, maybe a change in appearance. What of substance? We find the same Jesus is acclaimed and celebrated by similar words as at his baptism, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!" Only this time, like laundry detergent, his whites are whiter and his colours brighter.

...The reaction of the disciples was to build something. To commemorate this wondrous event, to mark the spot where other people may now come and visit, some booths, tents or shelters need to be constructed. They didn’t want to forget this moment or this place, so they would make certain that its memory would be honoured.
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Peter’s suggestion is forgotten when a cloud descends upon them and casting a great shadow. The voice from heaven offers the reminder that Jesus is the chosen son of God, that we are to listen to him. No shelters were built. No grand announcements about what happened that day with Jesus, Moses and Elijah.

The temptation is to stay on the mountain top. Yet if we try to stay on the mountain we lose sight of what is going on around us. From high above, the world can look peaceful and calm. But distant.

Jesus came to earth. He, as God’s real presence in the world, did not remain in heaven watching things from above, distance and safe. He came to live among us, to fall into the valleys and know the pressures and strain that we as mortals live through. He lived as a person with limits on his time, energy, patience and good humour. At some point, we all hit our breaking points. How many times did Jesus lose patience with his disciples when they didn’t understand his point? How angry did he get in the Temple where threw out the moneychangers?

And that is why the mountain top moments of clarity and assurance are so important: to sustain us through the valleys of life. We hold onto memories of what can be, the vision of past glories, so that we might work to making that happen again, to finding it once more in our lives. Only we need to be careful that our memory doesn’t cloud the current reality of today, that our vision needs to fit into what is possible for our time and situation.

On the weekend, Reiko and I had a great time clambouring on Snow Mountain, which is what she calls that great peak of snow in the parking lot by the manse. I’d help her climb to the top where she could touch the tree. She’d look around and point out all the buildings she could see, that shed, that garage, there’s the basketball court. An airplane in the sky was suddenly that much closer. The world is always more enchanting when seen through a child’s eyes, especially from a child on a mountain.

We’d slide down to the ground again and climb back up. And it is hard work getting ourselves up to that point again. The same toeholds and handgrips aren’t there, we had to navigate a new way. And making adjustments for a three-year old’s bootsteps is extra effort. But going with someone else was more rewarding, helping someone else find that vantage and viewpoint also broadened my horizon.

Which is why Jesus invited the disciples to be part of this moment, in prayer on the mountainside. This was a special occasion because Jesus usually liked to be alone in times such as these. He’d leave the disciples behind as he ventured into prayer in solitude.

The season of epiphany comes to a close with further revelations of who Jesus is and discovering exactly what his mission is about. The season began with a star in the sky above Bethlehem. It continued with the spirit, like a dove, attending the baptism of Christ and the words of acceptance from Heaven. We hear those words again, with a light shining from within Jesus upon the summit and understand that Moses and Elijah are also allies of our mission.

What would come out of transfiguration of our congregation? What might look different? The cosmetic changes are easy – get rid of the cobwebs and dust, fix up the building. Sure, our church is quaint, well-kept, a delightful country church.

But what would be different about us? The church is less about the building and more about the sense of welcome and belonging. It is about people’s willingness to be here and be known, about people inviting a community into their lives. We are here to share the joys and sorrows of our life, and our families, willing to risk being hurt.

We are transfigured when we express and share our faith, our doubts and our hopes. Working to sustain and nurture our spirits, giving words to the meaning of life, our understanding of where God is, how to live as morally responsible people, how to make a difference in the world. How can we reach out and make the world a better place? How do we bring light to darkness, offer hope in the face of evil?

I’ll end with a quotation from Martin Luther King, Jr., 27th January 1965: "I must confess that I have enjoyed being on this mountaintop and I am tempted to want to stay here and retreat to a more quiet and serene life. But something within reminds me that the valley calls me in spite of all its agonies, dangers, and frustrating moments. I must return to the valley. Something tells me that the ultimate test of a man is not where he stands in moments of comfort and moments of convenience, but where he stands in moments of challenge and moments of controversy. So I must return to the valley."

Yes, we know the valley awaits and it is there that our faith will truly be tested and put into action. But for now let us remain on the mountain just a little longer, we know such moments are few and far between. Let us, like Peter, be astounded, amazed and appreciative of the moment where we feel the connection to the power and the purpose of God. Let us marvel in our discoveries and new understandings of Christ and from a higher vantage point, see where our paths as people, as a church, will take us.