Luke 9:28-36, (37-43)
28 Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with
him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. 29 And while he was praying, the appearance of his
face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. 30
Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. 31 They appeared in glory and were speaking of his
departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. 32 Now Peter and his companions were weighed down
with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men
who stood with him. 33 Just as they were
leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, "Master, it is good for us to be here;
let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for
Elijah"--not knowing what he said. 34
While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were
terrified as they entered the cloud. 35 Then
from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen
to him!" 36 When the voice had spoken,
Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any
of the things they had seen.
[37 On the next day, when they had come down from the mountain, a great crowd met him. 38 Just then a man from the crowd shouted, "Teacher, I beg you to look at my son; he is my only child. 39 Suddenly a spirit seizes him, and all at once he shrieks. It convulses him until he foams at the mouth; it mauls him and will scarcely leave him. 40 I begged your disciples to cast it out, but they could not." 41 Jesus answered, "You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and bear with you? Bring your son here." 42 While he was coming, the demon dashed him to the ground in convulsions. But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, healed the boy, and gave him back to his father. 43 And all were astounded at the greatness of God.]
[37 On the next day, when they had come down from the mountain, a great crowd met him. 38 Just then a man from the crowd shouted, "Teacher, I beg you to look at my son; he is my only child. 39 Suddenly a spirit seizes him, and all at once he shrieks. It convulses him until he foams at the mouth; it mauls him and will scarcely leave him. 40 I begged your disciples to cast it out, but they could not." 41 Jesus answered, "You faithless and perverse generation, how much longer must I be with you and bear with you? Bring your son here." 42 While he was coming, the demon dashed him to the ground in convulsions. But Jesus rebuked the unclean spirit, healed the boy, and gave him back to his father. 43 And all were astounded at the greatness of God.]
If you have the
unhappy luck of being in a group of clergy-types, and trust me, I hope that
this is not ever the case, you might hear these pastors gushing on and on about
how much they love St. Peter. The reason
for this, as one who is a part of the St. Peter fan club, is pretty simple: in
his unfailing humanity, he often gives voice to what is the most natural
response in any given situation. One
minute he is proclaiming Jesus to be the Christ, God’s Messiah, and in the next
minute, he is trying to direct Jesus on a different path. He proclaims his
undying devotion to Jesus, and then in a scene that is heartbreaking because it
is so true, denies ever knowing the guy
so as to protect his own skin, and what makes Peter so compelling is that this
all feels entirely sincere. He truly
believes that he would follow Jesus to death, and therefore is utterly
surprised when he denies knowing Jesus in a fit of self-preservation. Peter may be wrong a lot of the time, but he
is wrong with heart.
And today,
before us, is one of my favorite Peter scenes, the transfiguration. After Jesus has proclaimed that his
Messiahship will be one of suffering, one of pain and desolation and communion
with all the downtrodden and ignored, yes, after he says these thing, he takes
with him Peter, James and John to the mountain to pray. And then, just then, the miraculous
happens. That thin veil which separates
heaven from earth is burst through by the divine light of God’s love. Jesus’ face begins to shine in eternal
splendor, the very brightness of his clothing now a testament to things not of
this world. And then, as though this
weren’t enough, Elijah and Moses, the two most important figure of the Hebrew
Scriptures, manifest as out of nowhere.
And they come to this Christ in glory, that is in the dazzling light of
the eternal Father to whom they had drawn so close all the days of their
lives.
And
as clear as it is that Peter’s response, “Master, it is good for us to be here”
probably doesn’t quite capture the gravity of the moment, I am entirely certain
that I would not have been able to do any better. What words are given to humans that can
witness to such things? But here’s the
interesting thing, if we want to think of Peter as speaking without thinking,
of giving the natural and human response in any given situation, it is what he
says next that is keeps things moving. “let
us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah,” with
Luke the Evangelist not being able to stop himself from editorializing that
Peter did not know what he was saying.
The problem for Peter is not in his accurate if understated observation
of the goodness of this moment. No, the
glory of God is finally the only lasting goodness that we may know. Instead, the problem is that Peter wants to
capture this glory, wants to contain and master it, so as to finally control
this glory. To build a dwelling place
for the glory of God, after all, is finally an attempt to domesticate this
glory, to experience it within the limits of human ambition and desire and
boundary. And this is Peter’s mistake,
this is perhaps why the cloud overshadows him and the voice of God, both ancient
and still just beginning, breaks into the midst of Peter’s earnest plotting and
effectively tells him that rather than speaking so much, maybe a little more listening
would do the trick.
Because
here’s the thing. Peter is right that it
is good for them to be there. Why else
would Jesus take the disciples with them, and what other possible response is
there to such divine nearness? But the
problem is that Peter wants this event to be good in isolation from everything
that is happening; Peter wants a self-sufficient spiritual high. And this is where he misses out on the true
goodness of this event. Did you catch
the conversation that Jesus is having with Moses and Elijah? They appear in glory and begin speaking with
Jesus about his departure, more accurately his exodus, yes his exodus, to
Jerusalem. And what awaits this Jesus in
Jerusalem, you might rightly ask? Well
the things that he had talked about eight days before this event. The rejection by the elders and the chief
priests, the farcical trial and the inglorious death, all of this that sin,
death, and hell might themselves be defeated.
And this, is the fundamental link that Peter seems to miss. As good and glorious as this event, as this
transfiguration is, it is not the final resting place, not, finally, the point,
at least not this side of heaven. No,
the goodness of the event is not that is can be contained, not that glory may
find a resting place up on the mountain apart from all human misery and pain,
but that, in being found by this glory, Jesus is himself strengthened for what
is coming. For the shame and fear and
pain and suffering that he will endure, all for the sake of a broken and
frightened humanity.
To
be certain, we are convicted by Peter’s role in all of this. Too often, it seems, we want to make a
dwelling place of the glory of God; we want to have God’s goodness and love on
our terms. That way, we can limit what
this glory might ask of us, and I dare say, act as the gatekeepers for this
glory. We can do this in all sorts of
ways, deciding that the present will never match up to the past, and thus our
memories become the only place where God can actually live. Or when we encounter a stranger, so very
different from us, and for whatever reason, determine them to be unfit for God’s
glory. Or when we seek a spiritual high that
does not then transform us, does not send us into deeper love of God and
neighbor, no matter the manner in which we encounter them.
Though
honesty about such things is required, please, dear people of God, do not allow
this to become a chance for despair, for that is the devil’s work. For as much as we, like St. Peter, would wish
to capture this glory for ourselves, God simply does not work that way. For Christ does not stay on the mountain. No he returns to the crowds who need mercy
and forgiveness lest all be lost. Which
is, of course, to say, that he returns to me and you. And he does not keep his glory to himself,
but in the cross to which he is headed, he will pour out this glory on all
flesh, so that you and I may receive all that he shares with the Father, that
you and I may now live out of the fullness of God’s mercy which spills over
from age to age. Yes, that you may
become children of the heavenly Father.
And this is why the glory cannot be kept on the mountain, because Christ
is too intent to come down and give it to you.
To give it to you in the kindness of his presence, in the goodness of
the body broken and the blood poured out. These gifts given so that you may
know God’s eternal love for you. But, oh
dear people of God, do not expect this glory to leave you as you are. That is just not how God works. For when Christ comes into your midst as he
has again this morning, he brings with him all those he loves and pleads with
us that we would do the same. That in
this space, the poor and the lonely and the fearful might find comfort and
sustenance, that the despised might find dignity and hope. That those whose tremble with emptiness might
know the fullness of God’s mercy. For it
is in this humanity that the glory of God now dwells. And it is to this humanity that we are called
in love, hope and joy. Get out
there. For the glory of God awaits. In Jesus’ name, amen.
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