Last Sunday After the Epiphany (A)
February 23, 2020

O God of majesty, mercy and mystery,[1] grant us the strength, the wisdom and the courage to seek always and everywhere after truth, come when it may, and cost what it will.

We have come to the last Sunday after the Epiphany – the Sunday we tell the story of the Transfiguration, the story of Jesus and his friends and their mystical and mystifying mountaintop experience. But if you heard the Gospel lesson last week, you, like me, might still be stuck in the weeds of a different mountain, pondering Jesus’ hard teachings, even after our Deacon Bob’s marvelous sermon. Last week, we heard Jesus teaching things like – it’s not only murder that violates God’s law, it’s being angry with another, or insulting another, that will make one liable to the flaming trash heap called Gehenna, also known as hell. It’s not only adultery that violates God’s law, it’s looking at another person with lust in one’s heart. It’s not just swearing falsely, it’s swearing at all. And, though we didn’t hear it last week, what follows is the instruction of turning the other cheek, giving away one’s cloak, going the second mile, giving to everyone who begs from us, and loving our enemies.  These are all rendered as examples of Jesus’ assertion to his followers that he did not come to abolish the law or the prophets, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter. Just for the record, I don’t think he was kidding, and I don’t know any translation tricks that offer wiggle room. It’s a wonder that Jesus had any followers left by the time he got to the mountain with Peter and James and John.  

Here’s what I think about those hard lessons, which are sometimes referred to as the antitheses – but they really should be called the intensifications.  The method of teaching that Jesus was using here is a rabbinic one: “You have read [this]…but the meaning is [this].”  The whole rabbinical point of this method is to get at the deeper, more intense meaning of the teaching. The meaning that Jesus was making was to remind his hearers about the underlying value, the rationale of the Torah teachings. That foundational, grounding value of all of the law and the prophets is fully embodied, whole-hearted Love. The rabbis taught in the Talmud, “It matters not whether you do much or little, so long as your heart is directed to the Holy One.” [2] Or, also in the Talmud, “Better is a sin which is done with the right intention than a commandment (a mitzvah) which is not done with the right intention.” [3] The teachings are clear that Torah is grounded in the love of God and enacted with loving-kindness (in Hebrew, ḩesed). [4] It seems to me that the point of Jesus’ teaching was to urge his hearers to stretch, to go much deeper, to go whole-heartedly, all in to the majesty, the mercy, and the mystery of the Holy One.

Peter and James and John went with Jesus into the mountain, six days after Peter’s confession that he understood Jesus to be the Christ of the living God; six days after Jesus scolded Peter for wanting to keep Jesus safe from harm; six days after Jesus admonished his followers that they would find their lives by losing them for the love of God.  Jesus was telling his learners that once we die to the idea that our lives are in our own hands, but in God’s hands, then we really begin to live. Then we are truly free to love and for love. 

It’s probably that scolding that leads us to think that Peter’s idea of building three dwellings or tents for Jesus, Moses and Elijah is a dumb or bad idea. Peter says, “if you are willing, Jesus, I’ll build three tents.” The tents are not intended to stay in one place, but to move with them. But there’s nothing here to indicate that Peter’s idea is bad or wrong, Peter’s offering just gets interrupted, overshadowed, by the arrival of a bright cloud through which a voice says the words, “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” And then Moses and Elijah are gone and Jesus is touching the fallen disciples and saying, “time to get up.” It’s like a dream scene, isn’t it?  Matthew seems to want us to know two things and do three things.  Matthew wants his hearers to know that:  1) Jesus is in conversation with Moses – the greatest leader of the ancient Hebrew people and with Elijah – whose reappearance signals the arrival of the Messiah according to Talmudic lore. 2) Jesus is the beloved child of God.  Matthew wants his hearers to do three things:  1) “Listen to Jesus,” – listen to his teachings, listen to his life and learn his love. 2) to get up (or wake up or rise up) and not be afraid, and 3) tell everyone about the vision of shalom – of the peace and well-being that comes with compassion and justice, of dignity, of freedom from enslavement, about shared resources and healing, and the possibility of new life in community with the Holy One. The admonition to tell no-one until after Jesus’ resurrection is another way to say tell everyone, because those who are hearing this Gospel story, even for the first time, know that Jesus has been raised from the dead. This is kind of a wonky grammatical thing, but the verb tense used to describe being raised from the dead here is indicative of repetition.  According to Matthew it’s “until Jesus keeps on rising from the dead.” [5]

Many of you have heard me say before that Jesus is reported to have said “do not be afraid” more than any other thing he said.  When I learned that many years ago, I found enormous comfort and assurance to deal with my own fears. I realized that, of course the only reason that Jesus said “do not be afraid” so often, was that people were so afraid. Parker Palmer, in his book, Let Your Life Speak, explains that “do not be afraid doesn’t means we cannot have fear.  Everyone has fear, and people who embrace the call to follow Jesus often find fear abounding.  Instead, the words say we do not need to be afraid, we do not need to be the fear we have.” Perhaps that’s what it means to have been to the mountaintop.

It seems to me that one good way to tell everyone about the vision of shalom – of the peace and well-being that comes from living a life of compassion and justice, of freedom from enslavement, about shared resources and healing, and the possibility of new life in community with the Holy One – is to remind ourselves that none of us is alone – that all of us need help, and that help is available—in all times and in all places.  Even when we are by ourselves, there is a great cloud of witnesses. We are reminding ourselves that we stand together for the dignity of every human being, and that we live our lives in the midst of a Love that is stronger than even death.  Perhaps that’s what it means to have been to the mountaintop.

One of my go-to colleagues for blessings in the forms of poetry, is Jan Richardson. She has written this blessing for Transfiguration Sunday called “Dazzling.” She writes:

Believe me, I know
how tempting it is
to remain inside this blessing,
to linger where everything
is dazzling
and clear.We could build walls
around this blessing,
put a roof over it.
We could bring in
a table, chairs,
have the most amazing meals.
We could make a home.
We could stay.

But this blessing
is built for leaving.
This blessing
is made for coming down
the mountain.
This blessing
wants to be in motion,
to travel with you
as you return
to level ground.

It will seem strange
how quiet this blessing becomes
when it returns to earth.
It is not shy.
It is not afraid.

It simply knows
how to bide its time,
to watch and wait,
to discern and pray

until the moment comes
when it will reveal
everything it knows,
when it will shine forth
with all that it has seen,
when it will dazzle
with the unforgettable light
you have carried
all this way. [6]

I’ll close with this invitation to you all – to Emmanuel Church. (And by the way, everyone here is Emmanuel Church today.) I invite you to think about what blessing or light you all have been carrying all this way, a blessing or light that has been biding its time, not because it is shy or afraid, but because its moment has not yet come. Even now, it is strengthening us to bear an otherwise unbearable burden for another on behalf of the Love of God, which is what carrying a cross means. Even now it is changing us into the likeness of a beloved child of God, from glory to glory. Even now it is urging us to go deeper and further into the majesty, the mercy, and the mystery of God.