Sermon for the Transfiguration - Luke 9:28-36

I am not sure what I clicked on to make this happen, but lately my social media is full of people eating and narrating their food. For example, I keep seeing videos of a young woman who works on a cruise ship. She takes big mouthfuls of treats and then nods and smiles, while her voiceover rates the item and gushes about it. To research this trend, I asked some teenagers about it. They told me there is a huge genre of online content in which people eat and broadcast about it, called Mukbang. Some say it’s entertaining. Or soothing, like ASMR (ask a teenager about that one, too). And some argue that even though you’re not actually eating a meal by watching, there are real benefits. They say that if you’re lonely, watching these can make you feel like you’re sharing a meal with someone.

For all of human history until now, if you wanted to know what it felt like to do something, you had to do it. But that has changed, according to the podcast “Hidden Brain.” Online content makes it possible to bring a whole world of experiences into our homes, even if it’s not quite real. We can sit on the couch eating boxed Mac and cheese, as master chefs create amazing meals from scratch. We can watch people walk us through a perfect bedtime routine for a great night’s sleep, instead of winding down on our own. We have access to endless DIY home improvement videos. And because of how our brains work, we convince ourselves that we have gained actual skills just by watching. Of course, anyone who has tried to fix a dishwasher from a video will tell you that it’s not quite that simple.

But it is easy to be lured into a curated world that has never looked better. Projects online don’t have setbacks. Perfect nighttime rituals are observed without fail. Master class meals are within reach. We are drawn to these videos because the parts of life that are boring, frustrating, or tedious are edited out. You don’t have to see the hours of practice that go into a skill. And the story lines are edited, so that smiles are bigger, emotions more spectacular, achievements higher. Videos promise us delight, researchers say, because we can live vicariously through others who showcase what looks like a more perfect life.

The idea that we try to escape or self-sooth from the hard stuff in life by going online is not new. Nor is a preacher’s rant against the pitfalls of technology. Wherever we’re headed, this is a good moment for collective self-reflection as we navigate the technologies available to us. And it’s also a moment for us to consider what it is we truly hunger for, in real life.

One of the newer benefits of coming to church, I think, is the opportunity to unplug for a minute. I’m grateful for the opportunity each week to step into a much older world of candles and wood and stone and people with their real, unedited lives praying next to me. Church is wonderfully real and concrete. I would argue that church via livestream still falls in this category - church livestreams just aren’t flashy enough to be something else. Church feels essential in a world that offers quick, shiny options for satisfying our appetites and soothing our pain. In this place, there is room for a deeper kind of longing. Humans have a hunger that is not easy to name, and it does not have a quick remedy. It’s a hunger that happens to be at the heart of the story of the Transfiguration of Jesus.

Jesus is on top of the mountain, with Peter, James and John, transfigured before their eyes. His face shines like the sun, and his clothes are dazzling white. Moses and Elijah also appear in glory. A bright cloud descends. The voice of God booms out. And Peter, grasping for some way to comprehend this theophany as a mere mortal, awkwardly mentions building three dwellings for the glowing figures.

It’s hard to put the miracle itself into words, and I’m not sure we should try. Despite Peter’s attempts, the disciples didn’t really need any words to behold the glory of God. There’s an old doctrine of the church, which teaches that God created humans with the capacity to receive God’s glory. Perhaps this is what we have always longed for. We want a glimpse into God’s splendor and the knowledge that, by the grace of God, we are contained within it.

My go-to theologian on the glory of God will always be C.S. Lewis. He wrote, “We want something, 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 become part of it… At present we are on the outside of it, the wrong side of the door… We cannot mingle with the splendors we see. But all the leaves of the New Testament are rustling with the rumor that some day, God willing, we shall get in. When human souls have become as perfect in obedience to God, then they will put on glory.” (The Weight of Glory, 1942)

C.S. Lewis added something important about where we can find glory, namely, in one another. “Next to the bread and wine of Communion, your neighbor is the holiest object presented to your senses… For in him Christ is hidden — the glorifier and the glorified, Glory Himself, is truly within.” If we take Lewis at his word, Christ’s glory is only as far as a bit of bread and wine and the person nearest to you this morning.

In this place, we train our eyes to see God’s glory. We come here to see God’s glory in ourselves and in each other, and to be reminded that none of us is beyond its reach. We come here to see Christ - the savior who is healing, resurrecting, and sustaining the world around us. We come here to glimpse our salvation. Week after week, God’s glory shines through, and the Transfiguration happens once again.

If, however, all of this talk of glory seems remote or intangible, I want to suggest that it may be more pressing and concrete than ever. In a world that offers virtual, shiny, and shallow solutions to our cravings, we need to be reminded to hunger after the real and the holy. And to have our hunger for the holy satisfied in some shared bread and wine.

One final word - in order to research this homily, besides talking to teenagers, I did a search on YouTube for God’s glory. I had no idea so many pastors had channels with subscribers. Their sermons were generally well polished and looked effortless. Maybe I could add some preaching skills just by watching them. But I think I’d rather be here with you, in this concrete place with our real-life selves, taking in actual glory.