The Feast of Transfiguration C March 3, 2019
Luther Memorial Church Seattle, WA
The Rev. Julie Hutson
Exodus 34: 29-35 + 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2 + Luke 9: 28-36
Beloved, grace and peace are yours through Jesus Christ. Amen.
I want to start this morning with something of a confession. It’s almost Lent, so that seems like a good thing to do. Actually, I’m going to ask all of you to join me. Alright, let’s confess: how many of us have gone through our homes lately and picked up everything we own asking “Does this bring me joy?”
Marie Kondo has become a household name, first because of her books “The Magic of Tidying Up” and “Spark Joy” and now because of her wildly successful Netflix series: Tidying Up. On her show she goes into the homes of people just like you and me and helps them get their houses in order….out goes everything that doesn’t spark joy, with a thank you of course, and then everything that’s left gets folded and organized to within an inch of its life. The lives of these people are actually transformed in the process. They truly are. Because ultimately, through this process they create a spaciousness in their homes and in their lives and those things that do remain are the things that spark joy.
Today is the feast day of the Transfiguration; the last Sunday before Lent in the Church calendar. This day ushers us from Ordinary Time that followed Epiphany to the season of Lent. And to build that bridge, to be that connection, requires transformation and transfiguration.
Which takes us to this scene on the mountain from this morning’s Gospel reading…Jesus goes up on the mountain to pray. Because at this point in his ministry, Jesus has been hard at work. He has, very recently, told the disciples that they will need to carry out the work he has begun and he’s given them instruction in how they should do that. He’s fed 5000 plus people with a loaf of bread and two fish. And he is very, very aware that he is going to have to suffer and die. He knows it’s coming. He knows that all of his talk about how the first will be last and the poor should be cared for and how we should have universal health care…all of that is not sitting well with the government officials. Fake news! They cry. He knows that this business of love and inclusion is going to cost him. It’s going to cost him his life. In the verses from Luke just prior to Jesus going up on the mountain to pray, Jesus tells the disciples this very thing. He must suffer and die. It’s going to happen. He knows it’s coming.
But he doesn’t run, he doesn’t hide, he doesn’t blame someone else….he finds time apart, in this case by going up on the mountain, to pray.
And while he is there, he is transformed….his appearance literally changes in this process.
The work of transfiguration, of transformation, it’s hard work. It’s not work we often welcome, although we think we want the end result. Like the people who allow Marie Kondo to help them unclutter their homes and their lives, the work of transformation is often more than we bargained for.
We pray that we would be transformed by the love of Christ Jesus, but we don’t really want that. Because it means we have to give up our own security, our own sense of control. It means we have to become servants. It means that the last will go ahead of us, for we are surely those the culture privileges. And it will be hard to let go of that. It is a part of our very identity as much as the kchtoche we bought on summer vacation and don’t want to part with.
Transformation is hard work. I look out at this congregation and I see weary people who have been transformed. I see a congregation that said “Yes. We hear the call to help the least of these. We’ll give up part of our parking lot and our building so people can have safe and affordable housing. And not just any people, but God’s people.” And in the process we have watched people walk away because they don’t like how it was done or the timing or the lack of parking or the general inconvenience. We’ve watched them leave because somehow talking about the transformative work of the Gospel feels a little too much like politics for them and they never signed on for that. We love to hear that Jesus loves us, of course we do. But it’s a little bit harder to hear that Jesus calls us to work that is transformative.
Because transformation is hard. This week the Big C church became painfully aware that it is going to need to undergo a bit more in the transformation department if it intends to share the message that God loves everyone while excluding certain groups of people. And lest we throw shade on our United Methodist siblings, our own ELCA has a lot of work to do in this department. And we are tired. Just like the disciples who were weighed down with sleep, we too are weary. This work has been going on for so long. We are ready for a break. But the transformation of the oppressive practices of the Church will not happen unless those of us who are IN the Church keep insisting that it does. And for the sake of our beloved siblings, we will persevere in that transformative task until all are truly welcomed equally.
One of the most curious pieces of the story of Jesus praying there on the mountain top with Peter, John, and James is that not only does his appearance change and he almost glows, but Elijah and Moses appear there beside him, in glory, the text says, and begin to speak with him about his death. Now, to be clear, Elijah and Moses are already dead. So what’s going on here?
No one knows for certain and there are lots of theories, and I’m going to tell you mine. Jesus was in a very difficult space. He was exhausted. He knew he was going to suffer and die and entrust his ministry to a group of clueless disciples who usually didn’t understand what he was telling them, argued amongst themselves, and would abandon him at the end. So, while he is praying to God about these things, Elijah and Moses appear to talk with him. I believe they were comforting him, consoling him, being present with him. I believe that this was a thin place in the world, where the veil between this world and the next was very thin and Jesus received exactly what he needed at just that moment.
You know sometimes, in this space….don’t we feel that those who have gone before us are somehow here? I’ve been your pastor for almost ten years. I still feel their absence. I still sense that Henry is looking at his watch when the sermons are a bit lengthy. I still make sure the linens and paraments are all just right in case Anne is double checking. I still imagine Dick telling a funny story about trips to Holden Village. They are still here. Eunice is here with her wry sense of humor and all of the stories about this church. And Jordan is here every time we hoist the purple or white fabric up onto that cross. Bjorg is here, inviting me to come by for tea. I could go on, but I know that now you are thinking of them as well. Or maybe you are thinking of the people in your own lives who would be the best sources of comfort and hope in hard times. In times of transformation. What wouldn’t we give to have them join us, just as Elijah and Moses joined Jesus, in our dark nights of the soul?
This, beloved community, is where we experience the beauty of transformation, of transfiguration. Because the communion of saints is with us in just these times. All around us. They are talking things over with us. They are standing outside with us, looking at that housing, which by the way just received the Certificate of Occupancy on Friday, and they are saying: Wow. That was hard. People got angry and annoyed over big and small things. That was hard. You didn’t have easy parking spaces. You didn’t have a kitchen. But look at that, would you? That parking lot, which was way to big for our needs, it’s now just the right size. And look at that….there are homes. Homes for people and families and an entire community to form and love and support one another. Look at that and be sparked with joy and be encouraged and be transformed. Well done, beloved, transformed people of God.
Thanks be to God…and let the communion of saints say: Amen!