Gospel:
Mark 9:2-9
1st Reading:
2 Kings
2:1-12
2nd Reading:
2nd Corinthians 4:3-6
The other day I was explaining to my son how to complete the less pleasant
tasks in life and get them out of the way and then you have plenty of time to
do the things that you like to do. For instance, I said, “If I need to
clean up the living room, then I do that first. Then I get out my puzzle
and do that.” He said, “Yeah, like if you had to eat spiders, you’d do
that first, then you’d go outside and play.” I said, “Exactly.”
That’s how I do many things in life. I always eat the foods I like the
least first, in order, worst to best. I savor that last bite. It is
the last taste in my mouth, the last satisfying bite that can stay with
me.
Savoring
the moment: That’s what I see happening in the readings for this
morning. Elijah and Elisha have been constant companions as prophets to
the people of Israel. They have relied on each other through all sorts of
trouble. They have built so many memories together. But Elijah is
about to die, or ascend. His time on earth is short. He’s on this
last trek. He’s trying to make his separation from Elisha easier on his
friend. But Elisha is savoring the moment. He’s not ready to let
go. So he continues with Elijah onward. And he certainly doesn’t
want this moment ruined by a big company of prophets trying to tell him how to
let go or how to grieve or how to move on. He is in the moment.
In
the Gospel reading, Peter and James and John are also on a trek with their
teacher, Jesus. They are loving this time alone with Jesus. They
are feeling pretty special to be handpicked and get this quality time with
Jesus. So they climb this mountain, maybe about as tall as Mt. Scott, and
they are talking and soaking up Jesus' teachings and attention. And then they
get to the top and are glorying in their accomplishment and all of a sudden
they have a mystical experience. They see Jesus, glowing. They see
Moses and Elijah talking to Jesus. They are stunned. They want to
savor the moment. They want it to last. So Peter puts his foot in
his mouth and suggests putting up infrastructure to support the hanging on to
this moment as long as possible. He suggests putting up some dwellings,
tents, for the honored guests and for their glowing teacher. Who could
blame him? He’s trying to be inviting, welcoming. He’s trying to
think of what would be the best way to respond to this moment. There is no precedent
to know what to do when the greatest of the dead prophets and leaders suddenly
appear before you. You can't look it up in Emily Post to find the proper
protocol.
Think
of how Peter must have felt. Here he was seeing not only his friend Jesus
in all this magnificence, as he should always be, but the heroes of their faith
standing there before them. Think if we saw John F. Kennedy and Martin
and Katie Luther or Martin Luther King, Jr. or Tupac Shakur standing right here
having a conversation in front of us. How would we feel? How would
we respond? We would want to savor the moment. They were
people we can learn from and whose legacy goes on, but not who we can cling to
or keep in a tent on a mountain. They are people whose spirit cannot be
contained in a tent or kept on a mountain. The intensity of a mystical
experience cannot go on indefinitely, or be contained in a tent or a cabin or
even a mansion.
Then
God speaks a command to guide the disciples into a better way of responding to
the moment. “Listen!” That sounds so easy, but oh is that
difficult! “Listen to Jesus.” It is especially difficult for Peter
to listen to Jesus, because what Jesus has been saying all along this journey,
is that he will die and rise again. We can tell by the surprise of the
Disciples when they encounter the risen Lord that they hadn’t been listening to
him when he predicted his death and resurrection so many times. Maybe
they thought it would be a metaphorical rising. Maybe it was so
impossible that they couldn’t even imagine what he could possibly be talking
about. Maybe they were in denial that Jesus would be crucified. I
know I wouldn’t want to believe it. And then how could they possibly
reconcile this mountaintop experience, of Jesus in all his glory, with Jesus
who would be stripped and mocked and killed and then rise again?
What Peter was missing as he tried to savor this moment, was
firstly that this was the eternal light of God. This was a light that
always had been and always would be. This wasn’t a light that you could
blink and miss it. This was a light that was always shining. We
often miss the light because we aren’t looking for it, but it is there.
Some people are better at noticing it than others. Children notice it,
because they haven’t been conditioned to expect not to see it. Sometimes
we find ourselves noticing the light when something takes us by surprise, when
we don’t have our defenses up, our sunglasses on. For instance many of us
became aware of the light, the Sunday when Seth called the baptismal water
“God’s Water.” It was like a moment of clarity and we all saw Seth in a
new way, the light that always shines there that we miss sometimes because
we’re not expecting it to come through him. Sometimes we notice the light
reflected through another person’s example, when someone has been loving to
someone that we have difficulty loving. Sometimes we notice the light
through art or music that can get past our armor and penetrate our
hearts. I know many of us feel that way about the gifts of this choir or
the music that Karen plays during Holy Communion or before or after the worship
service. Sometimes we notice the light when we go someplace new, as the
Disciples did. Sometimes it comes through a teacher, like Elijah.
Sometimes we notice the light because the reality of death or separation wakes
us up on that moment to appreciate and savor what is going on right now.
So we can look for that light on mountaintops, but we can also look for it in
all people and places and situations. The light is always shining. God’s
power is always and forever. So rather than try to capture that in one
moment when it hits us over the head, let us open our eyes to the light of
Christ in all situations.
Another thing that Peter was missing, and we miss it, too, sometimes
is what this light is for. This is not the kind of light we can lay out
in to get a tan. This isn’t for us to soak up. This light energizes
us to go out. This light empowers us to do the work that Christ does,
bind up the broken hearted, visit the imprisoned, minister to the poor.
The light shines through Christ and we reflect it to the world. So when
Peter wanted to stay up on that mountain, he was completely missing the
point. When we focus only on wanting our neighbors to come to our church,
we miss the point that Jesus sends us out into the world to bring the light of
Christ. And we miss the point that the light of Christ is already out in
the world and maybe we have a thing or two to learn from people who we discount
about how clearly the light shines in terribly dark and troubled times.
Finally, I get concerned that we Lutherans are too good at
keeping quiet. In this Gospel, Jesus
asks the disciples not to tell anyone what they’ve experienced until after
Jesus is risen from the dead. There is
time for silence and listening and time for proclaiming the good news. Last time I checked, Jesus is risen,
right? We should not neglect the part
where we share with others the effect that Jesus has had on us and our vision
of his glory. People long for the kind
of hope that Jesus offers. People long
for community, where people are real with each other and are empowered for real
relationships and chances to bring love to the world. People need to know they are created good,
loved by their creator, and that they aren’t alone in their struggles. So, empowered by this vision of Jesus’ glory,
may we stop and listen, may we experience the power of God, and then may we go
out as Jesus did and love and welcome and find ourselves loved and welcomed. Let us savor all the moments of Jesus
brilliant light: This one and this one
and this one.
No comments:
Post a Comment