“Holy Visions, Holy Voices” – Sermon on March 6, 2011
March 6, 2011
Scripture LessonsExodus 24: 12-18:
The Lord said to Moses, “Come up to me on the mountain, and wait there; and I will give you the tablets of stone, with the law and the commandment, which I have written for their instruction.” So Moses set out with his assistant Joshua, and Moses went up into the mountain of God. To the elders he had said, “Wait here for us, until we come to you again; for Aaron and Hur are with you; whoever has a dispute may go to them.” Then Moses went up on the mountain, and the cloud covered the mountain. The glory of the Lord settled on Mount Sinai, and the cloud covered it for six days; on the seventh day he called to Moses out of the cloud. Now the appearance of the glory of the Lord was like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain in the sight of the people of Israel. Moses entered the cloud, and went up on the mountain. Moses was on the mountain for forty days and forty nights.
Matthew 17: 1-9:
Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his face shone like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly there appeared to them Moses and Elijah, talking with him. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” While he was still speaking, suddenly a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” When the disciples heard this, they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear. But Jesus came and touched them, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.” And when they looked up, they saw no one except Jesus himself alone. As they were coming down the mountain, Jesus ordered them, “Tell no one about the vision until after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead.”
Sermon: Holy Visions, Holy Voices
by Rev. Doreen Oughton
Today is the last Sunday in the season of Epiphany. This Wednesday, Ash Wednesday, begins Lent. The season of Epiphany always begins and ends the same way. It begins with the story of the Magi, followed by the baptism of Jesus, and ends with the story of the transfiguration of Jesus on the mountain. Epiphany means an awakening, the light flipping on, a new insight or awareness. The Magi, non-Jews, recognize Jesus’ divinity and special role to the Hebrews. At the baptism of Jesus a voice comes from the heavens proclaiming Jesus as the son of God, beloved. The length of the season varies, because it depends on when Lent starts. This is about as long an Epiphany season as we can get, with 8 Sundays. We got to learn a lot more about Jesus hearing so much of his sermon on the mount, and learned more about what he wants for and from us – to be salt and light to others, to love our enemies, to focus on living in the kingdom of heaven by trusting God rather than trusting ourselves to build worldly wealth.
The story of the Transfiguration does not come right after the Sermon on the Mount. A lot has happened in between. More teaching and preaching, more healing, more debates with religious leaders. In the chapter just before this one, Jesus asks his disciples who people say he is, then asks who they believe he is. Peter declares Jesus is indeed the Messiah, the son of God, and Jesus is very pleased. This is a moment of glory for Peter and the disciples. But this is quickly followed by words about suffering, death, and resurrection, as Jesus tells them of the plan to travel to Jerusalem and what awaits them there.
It is six days after this that Jesus brings his first disciples up the mountain. One of the interesting, poetic things about bible stories is the way they echo and resonate with one another. Our reading from Exodus today has Moses going up the mountain, where he waited for six days before God spoke to him, just as it is six days before Jesus goes up the mountain to commune with the holy. And the time period of six days echoes back to the creation story where God spends six days creating, then sets aside the seventh day as a sacred time, a time of rest. A cloud covered the mountain for six days,while Moses waited for God to speak, and the seventh day is set apart, a time when God speaks. In our gospel story today six days go by after Jesus invites them to pick up their cross and follow him, then there is a special time, set apart. Just as the cloud covered Mt. Sinai before God spoke to Moses, a bright cloud covered the mountain when God spoke to the disciples. And we hear the echo of God’s words at the baptism of Jesus in this mountaintop story: This is my beloved, my son. And we might also think of the climb up another mountain to come, Mt. Calvary. On the mountain in today’s reading, Jesus is between Elijah and Moses, one on his left and one on his right. In the passion to come, he is between two criminals, one on his left and one on his right.
But all that’s to come. We’ll be talking more about the passion and the suffering in the weeks ahead. Today we are on the mountaintop with Peter and James and John, in a time set apart, a sacred time. And in a sacred place. Isn’t a mountaintop so right for an encounter with the divine? It’s a geographical point closer to heaven. We are awed by the sight of mountains in the distance, their majesty and beauty. We are inspired and committed as we stand at the base, ready to climb it. We are stunned by the vistas we see, by the changes in the air as we ascent. In our Monday night book group we’ll be reading a book called “Finding Your Religion” and the author introduces the metaphor of the mountain right away. There are many paths up the mountain, he says, but we are all headed for the same peak, for the same encounter with the divine. Being on the mountain top offers a unique perspective. We see so much more than we can see from down below. We see the vastness before us, and are both humbled and honored by our place in the world.
When I consider the perspective offered by a mountain top view, I think of Martin Luther King Jr., and the words he spoke on the night before he was killed: “Well, I don’t know what will happen now. We’ve got some difficult days ahead. But it doesn’t matter with me now. Because I’ve been to the mountain top. And I don’t mind. Like anybody, I would like to live a long life. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will. And He’s allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I’ve looked over. And I’ve seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people will get to the promised land. And I’m happy, tonight. I’m not worried about anything. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.” This is the mountaintop perspective, to look over, to have seen the promised land and trust in it.
Peter and James and John are on the mountain top, but they are not looking over, seeing the promised land. They weren’t able to see the big picture when Jesus talked about the suffering to come, the death to come. They weren’t able to look out all the way over to the resurrection. Maybe Jesus hoped their vision would expand up on the mountain, but they are still not looking out. Not that I can blame them. It would sure capture my attention from the vistas to see Jesus turn all aglow, to see him talking to two glowing ancient holy men. And yet they seem to take the transfiguration of Jesus, the visiting holy men, somewhat in stride. They have narrowed their focus, and Peter even suggests they find a way to contain it. And they are really not looking outward when Peter is interrupted by the voice of God. No, they are knocked flat to the ground by their fear.
A voice is commanding in a way that a vision is not. And God’s voice, speaking to you, to me, well, that IS scary. A vision can be so much more open to interpretation, can’t it. But a voice, a voice telling you something specific, not so much. A voice that says, pretty much, yes, Peter, you got it right. This IS my son. And then the voice adds, “Listen to him.” Listen to him about being salt and light, about turning the other cheek, about loving your enemy, about letting go of wordly worries. Listen to him about going to Jerusalem, about suffering and death. And listen to him about resurrection, about new life.
And then, in this moment of terrific fear of God’s voice, there is another voice, a familiar voice, and a touch. Rise up, Jesus says. It is only Jesus who remains with them, no longer glowing, but ready to lead them back down the mountain. Because the thing about these holy sacred places and times that are set aside, is that they have to be set aside from something. We all need these holy moments, these special places and times to have the glory of God shining before us, commanding us, calling to us. But the point of them is so that we carry them back down the mountain. We let the vision and voice sustain us as we go about our work sharing God’s love in the mundane, everyday ways. We are not, not most of us, meant to stay looking captivated at the promised land, but are to go down and lead people to it. We are not to stay on our knees cowering at God’s voice, but to heed it, to listen to Jesus, to pick up our crosses and follow him all the way to the cross, then right out of the tomb.
There is another mountaintop experience in the Gospel of Matthew, and it comes at the very end. Jesus sends his disciples there to meet him, and he speaks to them there. He tells them to go and baptize, make disciples, continue to obey him. And finally he reminds them that he will be with them always.
It may not be a mountaintop, but this place and time is a time set aside. The worship service is meant to help you look out at the larger picture, to hear God’s word speaking to you, to respond in humble thanksgiving. And it is not meant to be the only holy time in your week, but to feed you so that you can recognize all the holy moments in your life – when you fall and get hurt and someone is there to kiss it better, when you help someone in your family and it makes them smile, when your dog greets you with the waggin-est tail ever, when you push yourself to try something you thought would be too hard. And we have here in worship these little sacred meals, this little bit of bread and juice to remind us of the holiness of all that we eat and drink – all the hands that go to make our food, all the plants and animals and fish that become part of our bodies when we consume them, the sacredness of the life cycle. And it also calls us to look out to that promised land, it is a foretaste of the heavenly banquet, it reminds us of the promise of a time to come when we will be gathered with Christ at the table, all of us aglow, transfigured, each of us one with God’s brilliance. May it be so.
