Transformation
Sermon preached 2/18/06Luke 9:28-36
9:28 Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray.
9:29 And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white.
9:30 Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him.
9:31 They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.
9:32 Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him.
9:33 Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, "Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah" -- not knowing what he said.
9:34 While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud.
9:35 Then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!"
9:36 When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.
9:28 Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray.
9:29 And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white.
9:30 Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him.
9:31 They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem.
9:32 Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him.
9:33 Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, "Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah" -- not knowing what he said.
9:34 While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud.
9:35 Then from the cloud came a voice that said, "This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!"
9:36 When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.
Yesterday was a rite of passage for me. For the first time I took the kids to a film of a book that one of them had read. Lida picked up a copy of Bridge to Terabithia shortly after she started school last fall and with my help began to read it. At first she struggled word by word, and after a page or so I would read the rest of the chapter to her. Eventually she could pretty much read on her own, though I still read some parts to her. In November we learned that there would be a major motion picture of the book released in February, so we made it a goal to finish the book by then. We finally finished a couple of weeks ago.
Bridge to Terabithia is a rite of passage book. It tells the story of Jess Aarons, a poor son of a farmer and his wife who dreams of a better life. At the beginning of the year in fifth grade he befriends a city girl from Washington, DC whose novelist parents have moved her to the country because they think it will be good for her. At first they get off to a rocky start, but soon the boy who is a gifted artist and the girl who is a gifted writer become close friends and begin swinging on a rope swing over the nearby creek and hanging out in the woods near their home. Soon they imagine it is really an imaginary kingdom with trolls and such, and that they are the king and queen.
Eventually tragedy strikes—Leslie dies in a tragic accident. It is the first major loss of young Jess’s life, and it is a learning experience for him. His parents take over his chores and make him pancakes. His 5th grade teacher, normally stern, takes him aside and speaks gently to him about grieving when he misbehaves in class. The transformation that began in him when he became friends with Leslie turns out not to be dependent on her physical presence. Leslie is gone forever, but the transformation in his life that began with their friendship continues. He is beginning to see things differently. He has realized that both grownups and his annoying little sister May Belle are human beings too, just like him and Leslie. In the end he builds a bridge over the creek and he brings his little sister with him to the imaginary kingdom.
Eventually tragedy strikes—Leslie dies in a tragic accident. It is the first major loss of young Jess’s life, and it is a learning experience for him. His parents take over his chores and make him pancakes. His 5th grade teacher, normally stern, takes him aside and speaks gently to him about grieving when he misbehaves in class. The transformation that began in him when he became friends with Leslie turns out not to be dependent on her physical presence. Leslie is gone forever, but the transformation in his life that began with their friendship continues. He is beginning to see things differently. He has realized that both grownups and his annoying little sister May Belle are human beings too, just like him and Leslie. In the end he builds a bridge over the creek and he brings his little sister with him to the imaginary kingdom.
The experience Jess goes through has striking parallels to the experience of Peter, John and James in today’s lesson from the gospel according to Luke. The three of them are traveling along with Jesus, most likely enjoying the ride and not even thinking that it will end, let alone imagining how it will end. It must be an exciting time—Jesus is preaching and healing, comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable everywhere he goes, and his following is growing. Then they are taken up to a mountaintop and experience theophany—a direct experience of the presence of God. It can’t get much better than this, they are imagining.
What they are not thinking is what is about to happen—that things will get worse-much, much worse-but they are becoming equipped to handle what is coming by the transformation process that started on the mountaintop.
The truth is, most of us don’t set out to be transformed. Most of us aren’t seekers, those people who go to India to find a guru who will help them get on the path of enlightenment. Most of us are just seeking to avoid pain and trouble, to do the best we can with what God has given us. What most of us desire most of all are creature comforts—a nice place to live, a loving family and caring friends. We like to have a little fun now and then. We want to have our health for as long as we can. That sums up most people’s lives, and it summed up the lives of these three disciples up to the point that they met Jesus. When they met him, they were doing their jobs, just making a living. The path to transformation really began for them then, but it was still possible for them to be basically the same guys they had always been as they followed Jesus.
The truth is, most of us don’t set out to be transformed. Most of us aren’t seekers, those people who go to India to find a guru who will help them get on the path of enlightenment. Most of us are just seeking to avoid pain and trouble, to do the best we can with what God has given us. What most of us desire most of all are creature comforts—a nice place to live, a loving family and caring friends. We like to have a little fun now and then. We want to have our health for as long as we can. That sums up most people’s lives, and it summed up the lives of these three disciples up to the point that they met Jesus. When they met him, they were doing their jobs, just making a living. The path to transformation really began for them then, but it was still possible for them to be basically the same guys they had always been as they followed Jesus.
Sara Miles was a person in some ways like Peter, John and James. She was the person her parents had raised her to be—a liberal atheist who spent Sunday mornings sleeping late, cooking brunch, and reading the New York Times Book Review. And then, like the disciples, she found herself drawn to Jesus. Since it was the 21st century, she began going to church. In an excerpt from her new book published in Salon, she writes,
My first year at St. Gregory's would begin, and end, with questions. Now I understand that questions are at the heart of faith, and that certainties about God can flicker on and off, no matter what you think you know. But back then, I thought "believers" were people who knew exactly what they believed and had nailed all the answers.
My first set of questions was very basic. I covertly studied the faces of people at Saint Gregory's when they took the bread, trying to guess what they were feeling, but I was too proud and too timid to ask either priests or congregants the beginner's queries: Why do you cross yourselves? What are the candles for? How do you pray? And, more seriously: Do you really believe this stuff?
My next question was not about God or church; it was nakedly about me, and my fears. What would my friends think?
In America, I knew exactly one person who was a Christian. It turned out that my friend Mark Pritchard, an introverted writer with a tongue piercing, attended a Lutheran church with wooden pews where he sang old-fashioned hymns every Sunday. So I took some walks with Mark, trying to draw him out, but despite his orange Mohawk and wild sexual politics, he was a fairly Lutheran guy, not much given to discussing his emotions or spiritual life. "Sure, well, I believe in first principles," Mark said to me, cautiously, when I probed him about his beliefs. He might as well have been speaking Greek. "Oh," I said. I didn't know anyone else who went to church.
My next question was not about God or church; it was nakedly about me, and my fears. What would my friends think?
In America, I knew exactly one person who was a Christian. It turned out that my friend Mark Pritchard, an introverted writer with a tongue piercing, attended a Lutheran church with wooden pews where he sang old-fashioned hymns every Sunday. So I took some walks with Mark, trying to draw him out, but despite his orange Mohawk and wild sexual politics, he was a fairly Lutheran guy, not much given to discussing his emotions or spiritual life. "Sure, well, I believe in first principles," Mark said to me, cautiously, when I probed him about his beliefs. He might as well have been speaking Greek. "Oh," I said. I didn't know anyone else who went to church.
That sense of confusion, the feeling of “what’s it all about,” must be very familiar to Peter, John and James. I imagine they are feeling this most of all in the wake of the Transfiguration. Jesus has given them hints of the changes to come, of his crucifixion and resurrection, but I’m betting that the disciples don’t understand these hints, except in hindsight—“Oh, that’s what Jesus was talking about.” The disciples have not fallen in with Jesus to be transformed, any more than most of us have. We are here because it is where we have always been, or because, as in the case of Sara, what we were doing before isn’t working for us anymore. There might have been people like that who followed Jesus, but the Bible doesn’t record him as choosing that type of person as disciples, although I suppose some of the less famous disciples might have fit into that category. Jesus seems to favor regular, down-to-earth people as disciples, people who are mostly concerned with earthly things like making a living and fitting in with their families, people who do not seek transforming experiences, at least, not when they first encounter Jesus. Some of us have dramatic, transformative experiences, but most people, looking back, find that they changed over time and in response to life’s events. Paul advised the early Christians "not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your minds, so that you may discern what is the will of God—what is good and acceptable and perfect."
He saw transformation as an ongoing process, even though his process of transformation began with a dramatic event and a total turnaround of his life. One thing is for sure—the lives of these three fishermen didn’t not end up as they, or anyone, would have imagined before they met Jesus. All became leaders in the early church. Peter is considered to be the first Pope. All but John met violent deaths because of their faith. In a way, disciples have given transformation a bad name. Some might find sacrifice romantic, but most of us have families to think of. We are willing to change—if we have to--but we are hoping it will only go so far. Odds are very, very slim that any of us will become martyrs. We are not pioneers of the faith, like these men. But the process of transformation can be less than smooth. Sara Miles, who converted at 46, writes,
He saw transformation as an ongoing process, even though his process of transformation began with a dramatic event and a total turnaround of his life. One thing is for sure—the lives of these three fishermen didn’t not end up as they, or anyone, would have imagined before they met Jesus. All became leaders in the early church. Peter is considered to be the first Pope. All but John met violent deaths because of their faith. In a way, disciples have given transformation a bad name. Some might find sacrifice romantic, but most of us have families to think of. We are willing to change—if we have to--but we are hoping it will only go so far. Odds are very, very slim that any of us will become martyrs. We are not pioneers of the faith, like these men. But the process of transformation can be less than smooth. Sara Miles, who converted at 46, writes,
“…even as I kept going to church, the questions raised by the experience only multiplied. Conversion was turning out to be quite far from the greeting-card moment promised by televangelists, when Jesus steps into your life, personally saves you, and becomes your lucky charm forever. Instead, it was socially and politically awkward, as well as profoundly confusing. I wasn't struck with any sudden conviction that I now understood the "truth." If anything, I was just crabbier, lonelier, and more destabilized. “
“The child I was, protected from religion by her parents, at some point had become the woman crying at the communion table. Those tears weren't a conclusion, or a happy ending, just part of a motion toward something. It was still continuing. God didn't work in people according to a convenient schedule, by explaining everything or tying up the loose plot lines of every story. Sometimes nothing was settled.”
Visit us at www.rivertonchurch.org.
Labels: Bridge to Terabithia, Christianity, Sara Miles, sermon, transfiguration
posted by Denise Clapsaddle @ 6:11 PM
<< Home