Saugatuck Congregational Church, UCC
©Rev. Alison J. Buttrick Patton
February 15, 2015
Scriptures: 2 Kings 2:1-2; 8-12 and Mark 9:2-10
Once upon a time, there lived a man. An ordinary, extraordinary man who carried within him the spark of the universe. He had ears to hear the singing of the stars, and eyes to see their shining. He knew them all by name. His heart beat with the rhythm of the waves that lapped the shores of the Jordan River. His feet got dusty from walking and his sun-brown face was etched by laugh lines. His touch was gentle, electric. And he touched often – always with the effect that a person was forever changed. People were drawn to him like a moth to flame – even before that day up on the mountain.
What made him extraordinary, you might ask? This, it seems: That one afternoon, while standing waist-deep in the chilly waters of the Jordan, he saw the sky torn open and heard a voice declare, “You are my beloved.” And he believed it, felt the truth of it at the core of his being. “You knit me together in my mother’s womb,” writes the Psalmist. “I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”
Knowing this – trusting it, he had nothing to prove, no people to impress, no need to hang accolades on his wall to remind him or anyone else of his achievements. He did not seek after rewards or recognition. On the contrary: he kept telling folks to keep quiet about his extraordinary acts. He seemed determined to keep going, to spread the news, to share the power that flowed from that divine love (for indeed, dear listeners: it was God Godself who had delivered that Valentine on the banks of the Jordan, conveyed it on the wings of a dove).
They called the man Jesus, or Teacher, or, as time went on, the Chosen One. With a sense of urgency he traveled from town to town, proclaiming God’s love to any who would listen, showing them with his words and with his actions, God’s love is like this: It is like sunshine warm on your face or wine at a wedding. It feels like getting to see for the very first time, or being able to dance, when moments ago you couldn’t even walk; it’s like being welcomed home, or getting a hand-written invitation to come as you are. God’s love tastes like fresh baked bread, more than enough to feed the whole crowd. You can trust this love, but you cannot hoard it. And truth be told, it might get you in trouble. Here’s where the crowds started to lose interest, dear listeners. Here’s where the story began to lose its shine. “Trouble, did you say? What kind of trouble?”
“Well, for my part,” said Jesus, “I will lose my life.” His followers protested – for their sakes, as much as his. How do you face the prospect of losing someone who has just transformed your life, who means everything to you? So: “No,” Peter said. “You don’t mean that.” That’s when Jesus turned his face toward the mountain, hiked up to the top with Peter, James and John in tow.
And his clothes began to shine, and a cloud descended, and that Voice from the River Jordan spoke again – this time so that everyone could hear: “This is my beloved son. Listen to him.”
What does it take for a parent to release a child into the world? What strength of heart allows us to say: “Go, my son, my daughter: Go and be the person you were created to be. Go and make a difference in the world. Go and pour out your heart, share your gifts, write your story, even though it take you into perilous places, even though it cost you your life… Go.” How many of us have been set free like that, dear listeners? How many have set our own children free?
Life is dangerous – especially when we choose love over comfort; freedom over safety. We travel to distant lands, serve in the Peace Corp, enlist in the armed forces or march for Civil Rights. Maybe we move halfway across the country to marry our sweetheart; we bring children into this precious, troubled world. Then, it is their turn: to build houses in Guatemala or give aid to Syrian refugees; to teach in Turkey or in the Bronx; to report the news from far-flung places; to touch the ragged contours of the world and to change them; to follow their hearts up mountains and down. If we can summon the courage, we let them go, with our blessing.
Isn’t that what God did, there on the mountain? God, Creator of the Cosmos, in whose presence Jesus’ clothes radiated with holy light… God who loved Jesus fiercely, tenderly – like any parent loves her child. God said: “He is telling the truth. Love will get you in trouble. Follow him anyway.” Follow him anyway.
Peter did not like this turn of events. He would have kept the Spark contained, safe in a tent – with four walls and a roof. Peter, who had his own love story to tell, couldn’t bear the thought of losing the extraordinary man who had called him from his fishing nets and given him a new name. Peter, whose name means the Rock, felt his knees tremble beneath him. He wasn’t prepared to let go, so he built those tents. “Stay here,” he said. “Stay here with our ancestors Moses and Elijah, here on this mountaintop, within sight of God. Stay here, Jesus, where we can keep you safe.”
But Love is not meant to be contained. God knows this, knew that the whole world depended on setting that Love free, no matter the consequences. I wonder, dear listeners, whether God didn’t empathize with Peter just a bit, whether God’s own heart didn’t ache with the knowledge that the road ahead would lead to suffering and then to death. Even knowing what waited on the other side of the grave, how hard it must have been for the Divine Parent to let Jesus turn and walk back down that mountain, toward Jerusalem, toward the cross.
Still, this is a love story, and love does not flinch when the way gets hard.
So God sent him out again, sent them all: Jesus, Peter, James and John. Only now, the three followers carried something with them, a little bit of the shine that had dazzled their senses. Can you picture it, their faces glowing with holy light, the way Moses’ face shone, when he came down from Mt. Sinai? Jesus said, “Tell no one,” but their faces must have given them away. The others could surely tell that they had been in the presence of Love Incarnate, had touched the hem of Love’s garment, and come away changed, brighter, somehow. That encounter was surely meant to give them hope – and strength – for the days to come, but how do you hold onto a transcendent moment or pin down a ray of light?
“As the world that seemed to overbrim its boundaries becomes, once more, merely the world…” (in the words of poet Christian Wiman) how do you proceed? [quote] “The memory of that momentary blaze…can become a reproach to the fireless life in which you find yourself most of the time…To experience grace is one thing; to integrate it into your life is quite another.” [unquote] that was the challenge that confronted those disciples, as they descended the mountain, clutching the memory of their encounter like a lover’s letter, close to the chest.
Once upon a time, there lived generations of women and men whose lives were lit up by an ordinary, extraordinary man. In him, they got a glimpse of the Love that rules the universe, a glimpse, a taste, an impression, of what life could be, if we really believed ourselves beloved, if we trusted the One who sent us Her own child as a love letter to the world. Some days, those glimpses were enough to remind them that they had nothing to prove, no need for reward or approval, only the impulse to share that love. Those were the days they harnessed tremendous courage and compassion and so achieved extraordinary things in the face of extraordinary odds: negotiated peace treaties and defeated polio, traveled to the stars and saved the whales; dismantled slavery, built schools, condemned bigotry; those were the days when they did not flinch.
There were other days when they almost forgot, as we still forget. Then they argued among themselves about who was the greatest, who deserved the credit and who would sit at Jesus’ right hand. On those days, the shine on their faces faded a bit.
This is the risk we all face. Every day is not Valentine’s Day – when lovers sit by the fire and pronounce their devotion with flowers, poetry and tender touch; and we do not live on the mountain top. Always we return to the demands of the everyday. Still, we carry with us the mark of those transcendent moments, that “momentary blaze,” like the afterglow of sun on our faces. I believe it is enough to remind us, that Love, not lace-and-chocolates love, but tear-open-the-heavens love, set-the-cosmos-in-motion love; set-the-children-free love; tender, life-transfiguring Divine Love is worth the trouble. Dear listeners: Jesus is calling us. The way is treacherous. But God’s love can be trusted and the need is great. This precious, troubled world is longing to be made whole. So although your knees may tremble, and your heart skit a beat, feel the love, turn toward Jerusalem and follow him anyway.
Scriptures
1 Kings 2:1-2; 8-12 – NRSV Translation
1Now when the Lord was about to take Elijah up to heaven by a whirlwind, Elijah and [his son] Elisha were on their way from Gilgal. 2Elijah said to Elisha, “Stay here; for the Lord has sent me as far as Bethel.” But Elisha said, “As the Lord lives, and as you yourself live, I will not leave you.” … 8Then Elijah took his mantle and rolled it up, and struck the water; the water was parted to the one side and to the other, until the two of them crossed on dry ground.
9When they had crossed, Elijah said to Elisha, “Tell me what I may do for you, before I am taken from you.” Elisha said, “Please let me inherit a double share of your spirit.” 10He responded, “You have asked a hard thing; yet, if you see me as I am being taken from you, it will be granted you; if not, it will not.” 11As they continued walking and talking, a chariot of fire and horses of fire separated the two of them, and Elijah ascended in a whirlwind into heaven. 12Elisha kept watching and crying out, “Father, father! The chariots of Israel and its horsemen!” But when he could no longer see him, he grasped his own clothes and tore them in two pieces.
Mark 9:2-10 – NRSV Translation
2Six days later, Jesus took with him Peter and James and John, and led them up a high mountain apart, by themselves. And he was transfigured before them, 3and his clothes became dazzling white, such as no one on earth could bleach them. 4And there appeared to them Elijah with Moses, who were talking with Jesus. 5Then Peter said to Jesus, “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” 6He did not know what to say, for they were terrified. 7Then a cloud overshadowed them, and from the cloud there came a voice, “This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him!” 8Suddenly when they looked around, they saw no one with them anymore, but only Jesus. 9As they were coming down the mountain, he ordered them to tell no one about what they had seen, until after the Son of Man had risen from the dead. 10So they kept the matter to themselves, questioning what this rising from the dead could mean.