Br. John Forbis, OHC
The Last Sunday after Epiphany - February 23, 2020
Exodus 24:12-18
2 Peter 1:16-21
Matthew 17:1-9
Click here for an audio version of this sermon.
My preaching to you for this particular Sunday, the Transfiguration, reminds me of a passage from Isaiah 6:8. God asks, “Whom shall I send and who will go for us?” He might as well be asking who will go up to Mount Tabor for us. And my brothers answer, “Here he is. Send him.” That’s not entirely fair. I just happened to draw the straw for this Sunday. I suppose fate is more to blame.
Peter, James and John are certainly braver than I am. Matthew does not mention the disciples cowering in fear until after Jesus’ blinds them with dazzling white and a face that shines like the Sun. They cower at God’s interruption of Peter’s offer of hospitality. Their teacher’s metamorphosis into white light, and the appearance of Moses and Elijah weren’t scary enough?
I could almost imagine Moses and Elijah taking one look at Jesus and saying, Oh yeah, been there, done that.
Peter, James, John, Jesus, Moses and Elijah are all experiencing a literal mountaintop experience. No wonder Peter wants to build three tents. He wants the experience to last. This summit, a dizzying altitude, would represent for me a pinnacle of spiritual and human experience. Although Peter will build only if Jesus wishes.
Then, God interjects here, interrupts Peter’s proposition as he is speaking with an expression of delight for God’s beloved Son and a command to listen to Jesus. Now is the time to cower, if not before!
Maybe the disciples finally get who Jesus really is, like nothing they understood before even when God says practically the same thing at his Baptism. His proximity to God finally dawns on them. God’s proximity to them dawns on them as well. In the Hebrew Scriptures, that position could be cause for death.
What finally dawns on me is that there’s obviously no accident that at the beginning of the Epiphany season and the end we hear God’s confirmation of Jesus, when he needs it most: at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry and near the end. Jesus is not only divine and human in one person, but he is God’s beloved Son. Then, he reaches out and glorifies his disciples with a human touch. Moses and Elijah have left him. Alone, he calms their fears. “Do not be afraid”, a familiar phrase we’ve heard so much over the last few months.
Now, human, he is resolute. He and the disciples can no longer linger on this summit. They must rise and begin a long climb up another mountain to Jerusalem. As he tells his disciples on the way down Mount Tabor, the Son of Man will be raised from the dead. He still is as they know him, as real as his touch and consolation. His death will be that real. But his Resurrection is just as real. God’s love really is stronger than death.
As we map their journey, we are called to make that climb as well. His disciples are with him. We are with them as a human community, but we each have our personal journeys from Baptism through Transfiguration, up and over one mountain and on to our own personal Jerusalem. Yet, even then, we aren’t completely alone.
Some of you may know that our beloved Brother Roy Parker died just a few days ago after battling the devastating disease of ALS. He was a physically active man, a runner. He was an artist, a gifted calligrapher. He was quiet, unassuming and holy in many ways. We looked up to him. One class of novices called him a “super-monk” they would want to emulate.
In the last weeks of his life, we loved him even more. Silenced by his disease, we and he knew he was dying. This journey was his own personal Jerusalem. He had to travel it alone. We couldn’t imagine what he was feeling. But he followed Jesus and brought us with him to go as far as we could. When all we knew to do was to keep him comfortable and offer physical touches, embraces and hugs he smiled hugely while his face would light up. In good health, I think he would possibly have been embarrassed by such shows of affection. But we saw humility, acceptance, courage and genuine gratitude for the care and love we gave him. We felt his love back to us as well. We were seeing a Transfiguration. I believe we were going through our own Transfiguration as a community and as individuals as witnesses to this process.
He has helped me to have faith that God called his Son the Beloved. But it’s so much larger than that. We are included in that pronouncement. We are gathered, swept up into God’s love to our last heartbeat, our last breath, beyond to our own Resurrection. It’s a daunting inheritance, perhaps a responsibility to cower from. But a human touch and a beloved voice confirms our identity. He tells us to rise and become transfigured.
Paul writes in his second letter to the Corinthians, “When one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.” That’s what I saw Brother Roy do in his life and in his death.
Imagine ourselves entering Lent with a dazzling revelation of being God’s own. Imagine it emanating from us. Imagine if we could confirm, affirm and enliven each other’s true divine identities as witnessed by God and God's Beloved.
A Desert Father story describes Abba Lot coming to Abba Joseph and presenting a litany of what could be considered Lenten accomplishments. “Father, according as I am able, I keep my little rule, and my little fast, my prayer, meditation and contemplative silence; and, according as I am able, I strive to cleanse my heart of thoughts: now what more should I do?” The elder rose up in reply and stretched out his hands to heaven, and his fingers became like ten lamps of fire. He said: "Why not become fire?"
Indeed!!!
Amen.
Peter, James and John are certainly braver than I am. Matthew does not mention the disciples cowering in fear until after Jesus’ blinds them with dazzling white and a face that shines like the Sun. They cower at God’s interruption of Peter’s offer of hospitality. Their teacher’s metamorphosis into white light, and the appearance of Moses and Elijah weren’t scary enough?
I could almost imagine Moses and Elijah taking one look at Jesus and saying, Oh yeah, been there, done that.
Peter, James, John, Jesus, Moses and Elijah are all experiencing a literal mountaintop experience. No wonder Peter wants to build three tents. He wants the experience to last. This summit, a dizzying altitude, would represent for me a pinnacle of spiritual and human experience. Although Peter will build only if Jesus wishes.
Then, God interjects here, interrupts Peter’s proposition as he is speaking with an expression of delight for God’s beloved Son and a command to listen to Jesus. Now is the time to cower, if not before!
Maybe the disciples finally get who Jesus really is, like nothing they understood before even when God says practically the same thing at his Baptism. His proximity to God finally dawns on them. God’s proximity to them dawns on them as well. In the Hebrew Scriptures, that position could be cause for death.
What finally dawns on me is that there’s obviously no accident that at the beginning of the Epiphany season and the end we hear God’s confirmation of Jesus, when he needs it most: at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry and near the end. Jesus is not only divine and human in one person, but he is God’s beloved Son. Then, he reaches out and glorifies his disciples with a human touch. Moses and Elijah have left him. Alone, he calms their fears. “Do not be afraid”, a familiar phrase we’ve heard so much over the last few months.
Now, human, he is resolute. He and the disciples can no longer linger on this summit. They must rise and begin a long climb up another mountain to Jerusalem. As he tells his disciples on the way down Mount Tabor, the Son of Man will be raised from the dead. He still is as they know him, as real as his touch and consolation. His death will be that real. But his Resurrection is just as real. God’s love really is stronger than death.
As we map their journey, we are called to make that climb as well. His disciples are with him. We are with them as a human community, but we each have our personal journeys from Baptism through Transfiguration, up and over one mountain and on to our own personal Jerusalem. Yet, even then, we aren’t completely alone.
Some of you may know that our beloved Brother Roy Parker died just a few days ago after battling the devastating disease of ALS. He was a physically active man, a runner. He was an artist, a gifted calligrapher. He was quiet, unassuming and holy in many ways. We looked up to him. One class of novices called him a “super-monk” they would want to emulate.
In the last weeks of his life, we loved him even more. Silenced by his disease, we and he knew he was dying. This journey was his own personal Jerusalem. He had to travel it alone. We couldn’t imagine what he was feeling. But he followed Jesus and brought us with him to go as far as we could. When all we knew to do was to keep him comfortable and offer physical touches, embraces and hugs he smiled hugely while his face would light up. In good health, I think he would possibly have been embarrassed by such shows of affection. But we saw humility, acceptance, courage and genuine gratitude for the care and love we gave him. We felt his love back to us as well. We were seeing a Transfiguration. I believe we were going through our own Transfiguration as a community and as individuals as witnesses to this process.
He has helped me to have faith that God called his Son the Beloved. But it’s so much larger than that. We are included in that pronouncement. We are gathered, swept up into God’s love to our last heartbeat, our last breath, beyond to our own Resurrection. It’s a daunting inheritance, perhaps a responsibility to cower from. But a human touch and a beloved voice confirms our identity. He tells us to rise and become transfigured.
Paul writes in his second letter to the Corinthians, “When one turns to the Lord, the veil is removed. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.” That’s what I saw Brother Roy do in his life and in his death.
Imagine ourselves entering Lent with a dazzling revelation of being God’s own. Imagine it emanating from us. Imagine if we could confirm, affirm and enliven each other’s true divine identities as witnessed by God and God's Beloved.
A Desert Father story describes Abba Lot coming to Abba Joseph and presenting a litany of what could be considered Lenten accomplishments. “Father, according as I am able, I keep my little rule, and my little fast, my prayer, meditation and contemplative silence; and, according as I am able, I strive to cleanse my heart of thoughts: now what more should I do?” The elder rose up in reply and stretched out his hands to heaven, and his fingers became like ten lamps of fire. He said: "Why not become fire?"
Indeed!!!
Amen.
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