Mark 9:2-9 The Mountain
For the last six weeks we have come to this place and turned our hearts and minds to the stories of Jesus. Basking in the light of Christ we have marveled as the Epiphany star offered guidance to the Wise Ones; we have wondered as Simeon spoke words of blessing and challenge; we have lingered, as Jesus did, in spite of the pull the outside world has on us; and we have held our belovedness a wee bit closer claiming the truth that we, human as we are, are deeply loved by God. Today on this last Sunday of Epiphany we are given one more story in hopes that it might fill us up and sustain us as we prepare to make our way into the wilderness of Lent.
Next week we will shift gears and focus our attention on Peter: his faith, his struggle, his journey alongside Christ. How fitting that he’s the one then who bridges these two seasons and he does so, in delightfully typical Peter fashion, from the top of a mountain.
Throughout the Bible God is made known to humanity in mountain top experiences. Think Moses and the Ten Commandments, or the place where Noah landed his boat. Abraham bound Isaac on a mountain, Solomon established the Temple of the Lord on a mountain, and it was at the top of a mountain where Jesus gifted us The Beatitudes. Then there’s this moment… The transfiguration.
All three Synoptic Gospels tell this story— Jesus, wanting some time away to pray, calls Peter James and John to join him. The three climb the mountain with their teacher and while there serve as witnesses to an incredible moment. Moses and Elijah arrive, Jesus shines like the sun, God’s voice is heard and Peter, moved by it all trembles and delights in the presence of his God.
One of the struggles with this particular passage, however, is that most of us aren’t quite sure what to do with it. On the one hand it has all the elements a great story requires. There’s a band of faithful friends, a grueling journey, a moment of shock and awe, a couple of fantastic cameos from past heroes, a heavenly command to listen to Jesus, all followed up with a call to keep the entire adventure, including Jesus’ true identity, a secret.
Sarah Henrich notes how “Moses and Elijah, two figures whose passings were mysterious, were believed by many Jews to be God’s precursors of the end times. Because Elijah went bodily into heaven (2 Kings 2:9-12) and Moses’ grave was never found (he was apparently buried privately by God) (Deuteronomy 34:4-7), these two men of the faith were thought to be available for God to send back [at any time. And God would do so in order for] them to inform humankind that God’s reign was at hand (workingpreacher.com). I mean this is a marvel universe movie in the making.
On the other hand, it’s all rather confusing. Like is this the moment Jesus finds out what his future holds? What did Moses and Elijah tell him exactly? Why does Peter feel that starting a building project is the right response to this encounter? Why do the other two remain so painfully quiet? And what in the world does any of it have to do with us on Sunday February 11th 2024?
I mean let’s face it, mountain top experiences aren’t exactly everyday things. It’s been a long time since someone came running in here proclaiming that God spoke to them and their buddies in a cloud, and if they did we’d likely try and avoid eye contact. And yet there remains this strange pressure, like if we were “real” Christians, really faithful people, then maybe we would hear God more often, maybe mountain top experiences wouldn’t be so rare. Does our lacking these mind blowing divine “meet and greets” highlight our lack of faith?
Debbie Thomas reflected on this when she wrote about how some of us“fall into the habit of measuring the depth and success of our faith by the number of spectacular epiphanies we can claim. Have we “felt the Spirit” in Sunday worship? Has Jesus “spoken” to us? Have we seen visions? Encountered God’s living presence in our dreams? Has God answered our prayers in the specific and concrete ways we desire? Most of the time, my answer to these questions is “no.” Or at best, “I’m not sure.” From there, it’s a short distance to feeling like a spiritual failure.” (Debbie Thomas journeywithjesus.net). If our faith ancestors could have these experiences, then why can’t we? Where are our mountain tops?
Or maybe you have had such a moment, an experience where God did speak to you, where you knew that you were being guided, protected, by the Holy Spirit. And maybe your heart keeps longing for that feeling again. Maybe sitting here feels nothing more than mundane compared to what it felt like when you knew God was close by. I know that for myself I have returned to the places where I’ve heard God speak to me, I’ve reached out with my heart my mind my actual hands, hoping, wondering, waiting, for one more word. So maybe Peter, simply reflects our own desires. Maybe you know how he felt, how hard it is to turn away from those places, especially when we feel we’re walking away alone.
I would imagine that most of us preachers on this Transfiguration Sunday spend our energy focusing on the journey back down the mountain. I know it’s definitely what I usually preach about. That it’s not possible to stay in that euphoric moment of the Divine presence forever. That it’s not helpful to remain on the mountain top when there’s so much work to be done down here on the ground. That even Jesus had to turn and face what lay ahead regardless of what Moses and Elijah whispered in his ear that day. And so we do what is expected of us, what Peters does, we leave God at the top of the mountain and return to real life.
Then, with God safely tucked away, and our feet firmly planted on level ground, we do what good Protestants do and get on with the ordinary, everyday, tasks of living. Which while important and necessary maybe feel not so spiritually significant. I was told once by someone very dear to me that they’d come to church if I was leading it because the like me, more or less, but just so that we were clear they found coming to church about as spiritually enlightening as going grocery shopping. And I get it. I know that life is more often mundane and ordinary than anything else. In here, out there, there’s a lot of ordinary and God is pretty quiet most of the time. Part of me wonders if we need to take some kind of faith encounter trip to whistler in order to find God. But to be honest I don’t think we need mountain tops, or endless epiphanies, or God’s voice loud and booming to make our faith stronger.
I don’t think that because of Peter. As I mentioned we’ll dig much deeper into his experiences in the coming weeks, but this is a man who stood in the presence of God, who had The Mountain Top of mountain top experiences and mere weeks later, panicked, doubted, failed, I dunno, did he forget about it? And eventually he ran away. And what that tells me, is that while those spectacular experiences are amazing they do not in any way, translate to a perfect never failing, life of faith after, nor are they necessary to find God in our lives. What I have come to know, and trust, and be so grateful for, is that God is very much a part of our mundanity.
Debbie Thomas continues “what [Peter] eventually comes to learn, in his deepest darkest moment of loss, is that “the compassionate heart of God is most powerfully revealed amidst the broken, the sinful, the suffering, and the despairing. The kingdom of God shines most brightly against the backdrop of the parent who grieves, the child who cries, the “demons” who oppress, and the disciples who try, but fail, to manufacture the holy. God’s strength is made perfect in our weakness. God’s beauty is best contained in broken vessels.” God is not looking for our perfection nor are diving experiences restricted to the mountain top.
So perhaps the greatest power and meaning of this Story of Transfiguration is that yes, God can do incredible things, and there are moments when the Holy One will take our breath away and everything around us will change, and we will shine like the sun knowing that God is near. But we must remember that God is not now, has never been, and never will be, restricted to the top of mountain. God is equally present with us when we’re scaling a mountain of laundry, or sitting in the carpool line at school, or compiling our receipts for our taxes, or heading to church for yet another service, or even worse, another meeting. In the highs, the lows, the endless mediocre in betweens, God is there.
