Getting Glimpses [Last Epiphany B]
The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson
Mark 9:2-9
Getting Glimpses
There is something about this story
that is so difficult to discuss – as if the light were still so bright, as to
be unapproachable. And like Peter, I
find myself wanting more – more time, more detail, more ascribed meaning. Because as it is it seems a surprisingly
small event – especially given the magnitude.
Jesus invited only three. He had twelve disciples of course but nine
were not there; he had other followers too – the ones who come and go as the
story unfolds; they were not invited either.
And it would seem that were he concerned with making converts or winning
disciples, this mountaintop experience that we call the Transfiguration, could
be useful. Certainly no such event would
be wasted on such a small audience today – if not a public event at least an
opportunity to self-promote on social media.
But as it is, Jesus hikes up the
mountain with just three of his disciples – Peter and James and John. Mark's Gospel says that the mountain is high,
so I think it is safe to assume that the mountaintop was not so easily
obtained. It was a hike; it took time
and effort.
But the Gospel writer,
characteristically economical, says nothing of the journey. Even on the mountain, where the amazing event
takes place, the detail is sparse. “And
he was transfigured before them...” - as if any one of us has experiences by
which to make sense of such a statement.
I've never seen someone be transfigured.
Mark only notes that the clothes were extra white. In the first century desert I suppose white
clothes would be quite rare. In the age
of bleach and Stain Stick and OxiClean, not so much; I've seen white
clothes. I suspect there is much more to
transfiguration than white clothes.
But whatever else there is, and
whatever else it means, is a task for the reader's imagination. Because Mark is not telling. And Jesus is not telling. And the disciples, the few invited to the
event, are told not tell.
There is something about this story
that is so difficult to discuss. It is
so unusual. It is other-worldly. There is transfiguration. There are the speaking dead – suddenly alive
and present, just as suddenly vanished.
I mean, my gosh, the voice of God, God's audible voice, is heard in a
cloud. The story lives in that place
that feels utterly foreign – like a fictional story from a fantasy novel.
The Transfiguration is this
one-time event that happened so long ago.
It is hard to place it in history.
It doesn't feel like real life, more like a dream. The story is so mysterious. There are so many unanswered questions.
One might say it is
out-of-the-ordinary. Biblical scholar NT
Wright would agree. He describes this
story thus: “The thin curtain separating God's dimension from ordinary life is
pulled back, and mortals gaze on abiding heavenly realities.”[1] And Peter, James, and John, on a high
mountain apart, experience God's presence and power in a profound, overwhelming
way. Appropriately, we end this season
with an amazing Epiphany.
Peter, of course, wants more time
with the moment. There is too much to
take in. It happens too fast. It passes too quickly. And when his vision is no longer obscured by
the cloud, he looks around, and it is all gone.
Just as suddenly as the curtain parted, it is closed again.
Closed, but not gone. Some things cannot be unseen; some moments
live much longer than they last. While
they did not make their dwelling on the top of that mountain, as Peter blurted
out in his understandably terrified state, the mountaintop lived with
them. It is important to remember that
Jesus led his companions down the mountain and to the cross.
The Transfiguration was not a fancy
parlor trick meant to simply impress the inner circle. This event served an important purpose. The entire experience is difficult to
categorize or explain. It is shrouded in
a kind of mystery that seems beyond the power of language. But something happened. Peter and his friends experienced the
presence and power of God in a profound way.
For a moment everything made sense and everything was OK. For a moment God's reality was clear. Peter wanted to live in that moment. It's the kind of moment that makes sense of
everything – past, present, and future.
That experience gave the disciples the courage and confidence to walk
the difficult remainder of the journey with Jesus.
The Transfiguration remains a
unique event. But also, God still gives
us these glimpses, these epiphanies.
There are moments, often mysterious, inexplicable, in which the thin
curtain is pulled back and we see the light and we feel God's palpable presence
and life makes sense. And while the
moment always passes too quickly, it never really leaves. We cannot grasp the moment, but the moment
grasps us. And for the briefest instant
we are no longer sleep walking, but our eyes are opened.
I think of this poem by Scott
Cairns:
Every so often, I awaken and find
the world both vivid and lit, each
element
–far as I can tell—lit from within.
And yes,
like you, I may have assumed this
radiance
to be a trick of morning sun upon
the sea,
or the fortunate effect of ambient
or
of manufactured light, of dumb or
less
dumb luck. What I should now make clear
is that this intermittent waking is
not
quite so literal as you are
supposing, nor
so mundane; in fact, I may have
been jogging, or
yammering on before a yawning
class,
writing something or other on the
blackboard.
I may have appeared more or less
awake
right along, but suddenly, with
little warning, I become
for the moment more fully awake,
and I see
that there—along the path, among
the bracken
or the pine, or just there, only
now opening
within each forlorn face before
me—a glistening,
a quality, a presence of light so
profound
I can’t but close my eyes to see.[2]
When the light breaks through, when
God gives you a glimpse, it is not trick but gift – what you need to keep
walking. Because life is not always
easy. And there are times when the
clouds feel exceedingly thick, suffocating even. There are times when the harsh realities of
this life feel much more tangible than the hopes of heaven. And God knows that. That is what epiphanies are for.
We don't get to stay forever on the
mountain. Those holy moments, those thin
places, always pass too quickly. But
those moments live longer than they last.
Don't forget the glimpses. God
gave you those special spiritual, life-changing moments for a reason – to help make
sense of your past, present, and future: to give you the courage and confidence
to walk with Jesus through even the darkest valleys of life.
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