Gospel text for The Transfiguration 14 February 2021

Mark 9:2-9        Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus.

As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead.

Reflection      For years  I read  Mark’s gospel text with my eyes darkened by Jesus’ glowing religious experience. The image of Jesus’ changed face and dazzling clothes blinded me to Peter, James and John’s phenomenal mountain top experience. I was swept away by Jesus’ special status, the chosen one with direct access to the wisdom of the prophets.  Like Peter, I wanted to build a church around Jesus, proclaim a glow in the dark theology and make Jesus separate, sovereign and special. I struggled to capture Jesus with words and creeds, doctrine and denominational politics. But something was missing. 

Thankfully the cloud of unknowing finally descended upon me and opened my eyes to recognize Peter, James and John’s indubitable religious experience and finally hear the voice from the cloud… “Listen to him.” It did NOT say "look at him."

One of my favorite contemporary scripture scholars is the Jesuit Dr. Sandra Schneiders. Pointing to the poignancy of listening Schneiders writes, “To see another is to encounter a person’s “surface,” to “stand before” or “be in the presence of” another. But speaking/hearing (the one always implies the other) is a mutual entering into interiority. By speaking/hearing, the two persons open the walls surrounding their inner selves, and their heretofore incommunicable experiences are put in common. They both now live in a different world, a world they share, rather than in two separate worlds (Schneiders, 34-35)*.

Listening to Jesus means opening ourselves to participate in his incommunicable experience and allowing ourselves to be transfigured. This prospect is daunting. No wonder we would rather keep our eyes glued to him and distract ourselves with questions; “How did his face actually change? If there was a video camera on top of the mountain would we see Jesus talking with Moses and Elijah? Does this glowing moment mean Jesus is more than merely human? What is the true nature of Jesus anyway? Is he of the same substance of God, or us, or something else? How shall we preserve and ritualize this moment? What type of organization shall we establish to insure that everyone believes and says the correct things about Jesus? Who decides what the correct things are? 

Preoccupied with these questions we forget to ‘listen to him,’ to go beneath a surface encounter with the historical person Jesus and experience the transfiguring intimacy of communion. No doubt this is the defensive work of our egos that know if we “open the walls surrounding (our) inner selves” and share our interior experiences, we will be changed. In Schneiders words again, “…and live in a different world, a world (we) share, rather than in two separate worlds.” 

If we dare to breach our walls, with open hearts and open minds we not only stand at the top of the mountain in the presence of God but we also step into the sphere of interior reality in which we are changed into more beautiful, radiant revelations of the Spiritual world we inhabit by faith. 

The tumultuous tide of our times assures us, the cloud of unknowing is upon us. From our shadowy depths we hear, “Listen, listen to Him.” Are you listening?

* Schneiders, Sandra  The Revelatory Text: Interpreting The New testament as Sacred Scripture, 1999.

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Gospel text for Sunday 11 February 2018

Mark 9:2-9        Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus.

As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead.

Reflection       When Peter witnesses the dazzling Presence of the Spirit of God and the prophets Moses and Elijah with Jesus, Peter wants to keep the Spirit with him and so suggests “let us make three dwellings.”  Here is the thing, along with countless theologians I have preached a fair few sermons chastising Peter for trying to cling to Jesus and the dead prophets by securing them in dwelling places. I have berated Peter’s notion of making an earthy dwelling for the Spirit of God as if the spiritualization of matter was not a good thing.

Here is another perspective. The Episcopal priest, teacher of our Christian Wisdom tradition and author of numerous books on contemplative theology and practice, Cynthia Bourgeault puts it this way.  “If the heart is awake and clear, it can directly receive, radiate, and reflect the unmanifest divine Reality.”*  Sounds like we (matter) are intended to be a dwelling place for Spirit. 

When we choose to turn toward God, our lives are transfigured which basically means any barriers or false notions of separation between God and us melt away. The dark cloud of unconsciousness recedes as we wake up to the truth of our being, that like the exemplar Jesus, we are aflame in the Spirit of God with us. We are both human and divine.

In order to “be” all we are intended, we must receive our full inheritance and radiate Divine fire in the way we choose to live our lives. I believe when Peter protested, “Let us make three dwellings, one for (Jesus), one for Moses and one for Elijah,” he was expressing in concrete terms a deeper spiritual wisdom and longing to “receive, radiate and reflect the unmanifest divine Reality.”

Christian life is a both-and process; receiving and radiating the Spirit of God. When we consent to our full inheritance as both human and divine beings, (which means no more justifying our less than Divine behavior professing, “I am only human,”) we wake up, fully alive and cannot help but radiate the dazzling glory of God with us. 

* Cynthia Bourgeault, The Wisdom Way of Knowing: Reclaiming an Ancient Tradition to Awaken the Heart (Jossey-Bass: 2003), 33-35.

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Gospel text for Sunday, 15 February 2015

Mark 9:2-9        Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. Then Peter said to Jesus, "Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah." He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, "This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!" Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them any more, but only Jesus.

As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead.

Reflection        “Listen to him!” That’s what the voice from heaven, presumably the voice of God, had to say to the thunderstruck disciples while they were still dazzled by a knock down, wake up, religious experience. “Listen to him!” Surely James, John and Peter’s only thought must have been, “OK, sure, whatever you say. We will listen to him.” 

Can you imagine the three disciples hovering close to Jesus as the were coming down the mountian wanting to catch his every word? Can you imagine them screwing up their eyes and scratching their heads when the first thing Jesus says is, “Tell no one about what (you) have seen, until after the Son of Man (has) risen from the dead.” What are you talking about? Tell no one about the most stupefying religious experience ever? Tell no one that we actually saw you, Jesus, glow and talk with Moses and Elijah who have been dead for a long time?  Tell no one that in an instant the entire mountain was wrapped in a talking cloud? 

Maybe that is what is supposed to happen when we have a rendevouz with God; we are supposed to stop talking and just be there, in the experience. What if a glimpse of God in the face of a stranger or a full on, turn your world upside down religious experience is an invitation to get out of our heads and stop using our words to grasp the ungraspable, to comprehend the incomprehensible?  Aren’t we just like Peter, wanting to make containers, or “dwellings,” to hold onto our precious moments? If only we could capture the truth and beauty and glory of those moments in exqisitely carved wood boxes we could take them with us wherever we go, have a peek in the box whenever we need a dose of truth, beauty or glory. 

But, what if capturing our experiences is like putting lightening bugs into a jar… it kills them? What if that is why Jesus ordered the disciples to stop talking “until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead?” What if Jesus intentionally confounded their (and our) minds so that they would stop talking and just be with him? What if God is in the silence instead of our tidy boxes?

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