SERMONS

Mark 9:2-9
Bethany United Church of Christ
Angela L. Ying
February 22, 2009

Sometimes, just getting a glimpse of the Light is enough.

Enough to get you through the day.

As when your human alarm clock goes off at 5:30 am for no apparent reason and you look out, and instead of punishing yourself, you catch a glimpse of the sun rising brightly over the mountains or hear the tapping of raindrops on your window welcoming you to a new day.

Some days, just getting a glimpse of the Light is enough.

Enough to get you through the night.

I remember as a young girl, my two sisters and I, who all shared one bedroom, would insist that the light in the hallway be left on until all three of us had fallen asleep. Mom and Dad would leave our bedroom door ajar, so that the a glimpse of light could shine through. I often wonder whether it was more that we wanted to be near the Light or perhaps, more that we feared being left in the dark.

Somehow, just getting a glimpse of the Light is enough.

Enough to give you courage to continue walking in faith even when you are not quite sure of all the steps that will follow.

As when we learn to the steps to a new dance or go for a hike up a mountain on an unknown trail. The signpost at the starting point of the trail tells you roughly how many miles it will be and the distance you will need to persevere. What it does not tell you is how many steps uphill you will take nor does it tell you how many twists and turns, detours and false starts, and any combination of going up and down the mountain you will encounter.

I wonder if it was something like that for the disciples, Peter, James and John when Jesus decides to take these three disciples up the mountain with him.

And why only these three? Didn’t Jesus love all his disciples equally? Of course, he loved all of them. So, if he loved them, isn’t every disciple suppose to know everything about Jesus all the time, every day?

Not exactly.

Sure, we may convince ourselves that we want to know or even insist that we know. But as we see in Scripture, we, as the disciples, often ask to see and know something about God before we are ready to experience the living God.
Sometimes, just getting a glimpse of the Light is enough.

Listening and seeing Bartok’s opera, “Bluebeard’s Castle” I was made more aware that there are deep consequences when we insist and continue to insist on our own way—forgetting that there is a bigger picture, a larger purpose, a mysterious plan that holds us together—that comes not from me or even you, but from God.

Bluebeard’s new and beautiful wife, Judith, is reluctantly brought to Bluebeard’s dark castle—which has only a glimpse of light.

Inside the dark castle, we see there are seven locked doors. Bluebeard, amidst years and years of being sad and lonely and longing for love, asks that his new wife Judith please not open the doors.

But she insists that his dark castle needs sunlight.

And not only a glimpse of the Light, but that all his doors be opened to her, and nothing be held back from her. All seven doors must be opened to her.

Bluebeard is torn and deeply grieved, for though he loves her, there are parts of his past he would much rather not bring to the light. So, he begs Judith not to open the doors.

For a moment, we hold our breath thinking that she may listen to his voice and respect that he actually needs her love to move him beyond his past to a new Light.

But the temptation as a human to know, to control and to have everything in our own grasp is too great—and one by one, she opens, with a different key, each door, against his will—letting in, paradoxically, more—darkness.
This opera and the scripture text for today of the Transfiguration of Jesus, in their own ways, struck me hard and deeply, when I realized that though I as your pastor and we as a loving community of faith seek to be open, inclusive and as transparent as possible—there is still and always will be the mystery of God and that of not knowing.

There will be things that we as people of faith cannot unpack and cannot bring to light out of our own will. And we will need to choose whether we live in the mystery and awe of God or whether we insist on doing it our way—missing the point of God all together.

Strangely enough, throughout the gospel of Mark, Mark speaks of a messianic secret.

We, the hearer of the gospel, know that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, but throughout their every day walk and ministry with Jesus, the first disciples never—fully—knew.

Jesus responds to his disciples and to almost every one he heals, “See that you say nothing to anyone.”
Could this be the mystery of God?

In our fast paced, information overloaded society, this may seem quite odd.

You get to witness Jesus being transfigured in bright garments and you do not get to tell anyone?!

No photos. No T-shirt saying, “I survived going up the mountain with Jesus” No autographs from Elijah and Moses. No memorials. Nothing tangible for us to have as a keepsake!

All we have and all we are given is the incredible and possibly life-changing experience of mystery and the mysterious ways of God—and a voice—a voice saying, “This is My Beloved, Listen to Him.”

Notice that the voice says “This is my Beloved, listen to him!” The voice of God is not that of Presbyterian Polity that says, “Listen, you shall.”

Nor is the voice that of the United Church of Christ, who offers guidelines and might say “Listen, if you want to.”

No, it is God who speaks. It is God’s voice, who calls us to listen to Jesus the Christ.

And having had this experience, how are we going to explain this?

Perhaps, we don’t. Perhaps, we leave it—at mystery.

Unlike Bluebeard and Judith in the opera—in the gospel, instead of trying to figure it all out, what if we chose to stay with Jesus on the mountain for awhile. And what if, instead of rushing down the mountain asking for a clear and rational explanation, we, as the disciples, live in the tension—the tension of not knowing.

I imagine on our faith journey together that Jesus is leading us, as he led Peter, James and John up a high mountain. You can almost hear the disciples say to themselves – “Jesus wants to go on a nice hike today. Great! Let’s follow.” Without much preparation or stretching of their spiritual and faith forming muscles, they follow. I’ve done that.

The first mile is almost always sure to be adventuresome.

You are aware of every tree and bird in sight. You look up and give thanks. You breathe in the good non-city air. You take in everything. You may even forget how long it’s been since the last hike and start sprinting uphill. “Look at that, Peter. Did you see that John? Make sure you do not miss seeing this, James.”

Then slowly – some of us learn more slowly than others – as the steps grow steeper – and as the path extends, you start to feel it first in your knees. Your water bottle starts to weigh a ton and your bag of trail mix even heavier. This is hard work. You want to stop.

Thankfully, you have learned from your grandparents the motto: “do not quit.” So you start thinking how wonderful you will feel once you get to the top of the mountain. And eventually, by the grace of God, somehow, you make it to the top of the mountain.

First thing at the top of the mountain, you take your boots off and dip them in the cool water.

As you turn to notice Jesus. Something strange is going on. And then without any warning you get a glimpse of the Light.

Without a word, Jesus is transforming. Bright as the sun itself—Radiant as radiant can be.

Will a glimpse of the Light be enough for you and me?

Will a voice from God speaking to us be enough?

For Moses, the voice of God came in a mighty wind. Then the voice came in a strong earthquake and again in a pillar of fire.

For Elijah, who tried with all his own might to duplicate having the same, exact experience as Moses’, instead of experiencing God for himself—the voice of God comes to Elijah not in the wind, earthquake or fire, but in the silence—in a still, small voice.

And for Jesus, who is talking with the two, the voice of God also comes.

The voice comes three times. First at Jesus’ baptism, “You are my beloved with whom I am well pleased.” Then much later at Jesus’ crucifixion and death, through a Roman guard, “Surely, this was the beloved Son of God.” And a third time, during his ministry, right here at the mountain as Jesus is being transformed, “There came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved, listen to him!”

Can we live in Jesus’ glory as human and divine, so that we can live in his suffering as well?

Glimpses of God’s Light and Darkness. Sometimes this is all we are given in life.

A voice that comes and guides us, even when we do not know what lies ahead. A voice that beckons us to listen, not just to the voice within us, but a much larger, mysterious voice that calls and claims us and says, This is my gift to you.
If and when we get a glimpse of the Light, no matter how large or small, and see this as being in the presence of God – Jesus not only changes—we change.

In Nelson Mandela’s inaugural speech after decades of horrendous apartheid in South Africa, he calls us not only to the Light, but to be in the presence of God and to hear God’s voice.

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure
It is our light, not our darkness that frightens us
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God
Your playing small doesn’t serve the world …
It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone of us
And as we let the light shine, we unconsciously give other people
permission to do the same
As we are liberated from our own fears, our presence automatically
liberates others

Sure, Jesus’ disciples were afraid. Okay, terrified! Who wouldn’t be?

But take heart, Christian transformation is not once, but a lifetime of changes and extraordinary experiences that move us to deeper compassion and a deeper faith in God, in ourselves and in one another.

Theologian, Dr. C. S. Song, writes,

The transfiguration of Jesus is also a movement of people to be:

Free from the shackles of the past.

To change the stalemate of the present (amidst the world and human suffering), and to have an active role to play, in the arrival of the future. So that suffering can be overcome, evil powers of the world defeated, and death cannot be the last word

As we stand with Christ crucified, so God can change our lives.

When up on the mountain, shining with all of God’s glory, Jesus spoke of his death. Three times he foretells his death and resurrection and shares it with his disciples, who often misunderstood him.

Why, I asked myself, would he do that?

As I began to pray, reflect and to look at my life, this community of faith, and the great struggles and challenges of the world, I realized that Jesus spoke of death and suffering as to make sure we do not take life for granted. That we do not take the voice of God for granted.

In God’s good time, Peter, James and John eventually come down from the top of the mountain. But only after they had experienced a glimpse of God’s Light, only after hearing God’s voice and being in God’s presence. So they, as we, can find the courage to see the power of God at work in our lives, our communities and our broken world, and be a part of the change.
To be active participants in the transfiguration and the transforming that God does in us, in the community, and in the world.

For you see, sometimes, getting a glimpse of the light is all you get.

But, by God’s grace, sometimes just getting a glimpse of the light, a voice or being in the presence of God, is enough to be changed—for a life time.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

Copyright © 2009 Angela Ying. All rights reserved.