In The Middle Of Our Transfiguration - Mark 9:2-9

When I sat down to write a homily for today, to be honest there was a moment when I felt like a competitor on the cooking show “Chopped." I looked at what I had to work with, or the contents of my ingredient basket, if you will, and wasn’t sure what I would make. Here’s what I found: an ice storm soon to be followed by snow just in time for Mardi Gras and Ash Wednesday, a bitterly divisive impeachment trial, the annual convention of the Episcopal churches in the diocese of Arkansas this weekend, Valentine’s Day, a pandemic that just keeps going, and last but not least, the Transfiguration of Jesus. I could hear the host of the show say, “And the clock starts now,” as I nervously looked over my ingredients and wondered what on earth to cook up for you today. 

I don’t think I’m alone in feeling like I have crazy ingredients to work with. We’re all trying to make successful dishes out of an impossible set of circumstances, from our work lives to school and family life and being a good neighbor, somehow outside with masks and social distancing. Some of our pandemic efforts are better than others. Some days we win this strange challenge and put our ingredients together well, while other days are more of a disaster. There are days when the ice cream just doesn’t come together in time and we end up plating a dessert that’s somewhat mortifying. Whatever illusions of control or perfection we had before the pandemic went out the window a while ago now. 

Perhaps I digress a bit from the task at hand. In my defense, we’ve been at this for almost a year now and my attention span is shorter than it once was. We are so ready for it to be over. And since we are meaning-making creatures, we also long for a way to understand what this chapter will have meant. We wish we could present a beautifully plated, cohesive dish made from these strange ingredients, but we’re not there yet in the episode. We have glimpses, of course, but we can’t see the whole picture or the finish line yet. We imagine what life will be like after the pandemic. We also suspect that things won’t go back to the way they were, not exactly anyway. And maybe they shouldn’t, if we learn what we can and pay attention in the right ways. We’re changing in ways we are not fully aware of yet. To use an old biblical word, you could say that we are in the middle of being transfigured.  

So we find ourselves in very good company this morning, with the disciples on a mountain. They are going through something equally huge, but they only have a glimpse of where they’re headed and what it all means. When we hear the story of the Transfiguration, we tend to focus on the mysterious arrival of ancient prophets or the dazzling whiteness of Jesus’ clothes. In the words of Ann Lamott, sometimes God is a show off, and this miracle delivers. But the Transfiguration is more than a miraculous light show. It’s also a moment in a longer, more complicated transformation story, the end of which the disciples could not yet see. This was a spectacular and holy moment within a season of change and growth. Jesus was shifting his ministry from Galilee to Jerusalem, from his baptism to his passion and resurrection. The disciples were leaving their old lives into new ones with Jesus, struggling to understand what it all meant. And every time they figured part of it out, Jesus was on the move again, calling them further into the uncharted territory of discipleship. I think that’s partly why they didn’t speak of the miracle once they were down from the mountain. How do you put into words your own transformation while you’re still in it? I think we know what that’s like. 

But it’s not all unknown futures and uncertainty this morning. The story of the Transfiguration is also a gift. There, on top of the mountain, the disciples were surrounded by glory. If only for an instant, the glory of God was received by people who were created to see God’s actual glory. Glory given, glory received. We share this with the disciples. We too have a capacity for glory.

C.S. Lewis said it best in 1942 (“The Weight of Glory”). We long for glory, a longing not for fame but for God. And it’s not that we want to be glorious in the same way as Jesus in the Transfiguration, because, he asked, “who wishes to become a kind of living electric light bulb?” It must be something else we’re after. 

“We want something else, which can hardly be put into words—to be united with the glory we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it… At present we are on the outside of the world, the wrong side of the door. We cannot mingle with the splendors we glimpse. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumor that it will not always be so. Some day, God willing, we shall get in.”

 He added one more detail about our quest for glory. “Next to the the bread and wine of Communion, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses. In him or her Christ is hidden — the glorifier and the glorified, Glory Himself.” That rather changes how we see the person next to us in the pew or on Zoom. The Transfiguration is not only about glimpses some miraculous splendor on display. It’s also about learning to see the glory in one another. 

It’s fitting to find ourselves on the mountain with the disciples this morning, glimpsing glory and wondering what it all means. In this deeply challenging time, I think we are being transfigured in real time. The church is being transfigured, too. In his convention address, Bishop Benfield noted that bishops across the church are talking about how the church is changing during this time of pandemic, cries for racial justice, political turmoil, and economic instability. We Christians are losing our hard shells and armor through this experience and learning to connect with one another in a much deeper way. This will have real implications for our discipleship. I wish we knew already what the church will look like when we reach the end of this chapter. But we’re still sorting that out in real time. And while we do, we trust that we’re in good company on the mountain. Like the disciples, we are learning to see glory, shining from Jesus and from one another. We may not have beautiful plates or comprehensive dishes from this crazy time just yet, but we can catch a glimpse of our transfiguration already.