Transfiguration C
February 27, 2022
Good Shepherd, Wells, MN
Luke 9.28-43a
In the spring of 1984, I attended the Virginia Synod assembly as a lay leader in my congregation. It was in the old LCA, Lutheran Church in America, a predecessor of our ELCA, Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. One of the practices at the synod assemblies of that time was to do ordinations of pastors. These days pastors usually are ordained in their home congregations. If you’ve never been to an ordination, they’re powerful events and this was my first. All these years later I can still vividly picture one of the newly ordained pastors serving Holy Communion and the glow on his face as he is doing so. I can still picture this because I distinctly hear God’s voice saying, “You need to be doing that.”
That was the first, last, and only time in my life that I have had such a direct experience of God. There was no mountaintop, just the river valley of Richmond, VA. There were no clouds; as far as I remember it was a sunny day. There were no heavenly visitors, only the bishop and his assistants. Yet, it was a glorious experience nonetheless. What happened after that is a longer story for another time but obviously, I became a pastor. Suffice it to say that like Peter, James, and John, the work of following God’s invitation to live out my baptismal vocation as a pastor was a long, confusing, and often painful process.
Today is Transfiguration Sunday, the bookend festival to the Baptism of Our Lord Sunday at the beginning of the season of Epiphany. You might recall a similar experience Jesus has when God spoke from the heavens and declared him as his beloved Son. Here, the heavenly voice declares Jesus as his Chosen, the one to be listened to. Transfiguration Sunday also signals the imminent arrival of Ash Wednesday and the season of Lent. There is so much going on in these two distinct, but not separate, stories that we want to dissect them and pull them apart. For example, there is no shortage of questions. How did the disciples recognize Moses and Elijah; they didn’t have name tags. And what significance do they have for the story? Why did Peter want to build three tents or dwelling places? And why didn’t they talk about their experience to the others? Why was Jesus so upset at the disciples when they couldn’t cast out the demon? I’m sure you can think of some others.
As interesting as those questions are, this is one time I think it’s best to dwell in the mystery of the text rather than trying to answer questions. Part of the mystery is noticing that only three of the disciples are privy to this experience while the rest of them are waiting down below and the next day must deal with a stubborn demon. Another part of the mystery is to notice that the mountaintop of the Transfiguration leads down through the valley of messy ministry on a road to Jerusalem and another mountaintop called Calvary where a cross awaits Jesus.
As I live in the mystery of the Transfiguration and the casting out of the demon with the tension between the two, it occurs to me that we are being encouraged to stop, look, and listen to Jesus. Gospel-writer Luke may be telling us that experiences of God’s presence in the world don’t always come in bright, shiny, mountaintop revelations but rather in the messiness of everyday life.In fact, for most of us except for a select few, that’s where God most often shows up to work.
But like Peter, we often get so caught up in our own stuff and so focused on life that we don’t see God’s presence. We pitch a tent and don’t see. So, this Lenten season I invite you to stop what you are doing from time to time, look around you with the eyes of your heart, and listen for Jesus’ voice, calling you into a deeper walk with him. On Wednesdays during Lent we’ll explore God’s invitation to Sabbath and what it might mean for our life of faith. Then on Sundays we’ll journey to the cross with Jesus and his disciples, exploring what it means for Jesus to give his life for us. I hope you can join us for both. But either way, know that God is with you, cherishing both the mountaintops and valleys of your lives. Amen.
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