Two Rivers Pastoral Charge
Sunday March 16, 2025
Scripture Readings: Philippians 3:17-4:1
and Luke 9:28-36
I have to begin by saying that hearing the story of the Transfiguration of Jesus has me
feeling a bit discombobulated today. We
normally would have read this story on the last Sunday before Lent. It marks a turning point in the story of
Jesus’s life – when he comes down from the mountain, his path turns towards
Jerusalem, and once in Jerusalem, the events of the last week of his life
unfold. So it makes sense to read this
story just before the beginning of Lent, which is our metaphorical journey to
Jerusalem and to the cross.
But this year, our fabulous women of the Westfield UCW led worship on the last
Sunday before Lent (along with UCW chapters across the country), and so we
didn’t get to read this story then. But
good news for me, because I love the story of the Transfiguration, this story
is listed as an alternative reading on the second Sunday in Lent, which is
today. So I don’t have to wait until
next year to read it!
I want to invite you to imagine yourself into this story. The mountain in this story isn’t a tall,
pointy, snow-capped mountain like the one on the bulletin cover. Jesus, Peter,
James, and John wouldn’t have needed ropes and carabiners and technical
expertise to climb to the top. It would
have been a fairly accessible climb, up a winding path, far enough away that
you could experience true alone-ness up there, but not so far that you faced
any dangers.
And so I invite you to imagine a hill like this that you know – maybe one you
have climbed before, or one that you have wanted to climb. I invite you to invite a couple of your close
friends to come on the hike with you, people you know, people you trust, people
you love, people you consider to be spiritual companions. You don’t want a whole big crowd with you –
just a couple of close friends to share the experience with.
And imagine that Jesus is with you too.
The Jesus of all of the stories – you have seen him calm the seas and
walk on water, you have witnessed him heal people with a touch of his hand, and
feed a crowd of thousands with just a few loaves of bread and a couple of
fish. The Jesus of all of the teachings
that you do your best to follow – teaching you about how to love your
neighbour, teaching you about how to love God with your whole being, teaching
you about how God’s plan for the world is still unfolding – it hasn’t reached
its completeness yet, but it will some day.
Which of the teachings of Jesus speaks most tenderly to your heart? Which of the miracles makes your heart
overflow with joy and wonder? Is there
something that you wish that you could see Jesus do?
As you prepare to set out on your hike with your friends and with Jesus, it’s
OK if you can’t see his face clearly.
But even if he stays on the shadowy side of the trail, even if he keeps
his back turned to you, you know that he is with you.
As you begin the climb, at first it is easy.
There are so many sights to see!
With each curve on the path, there is something new to look at, a new
perspective on the view from the hill.
What are you hearing as you climb?
Are there any birds singing? Is
the wind whistling or laughing in the trees?
Are there any animals, big or small, on the trail with you? Are there any smells reaching your nose? If you are climbing in the spring, are there
any wildflowers along the way? If it is
summer, is the smell of hot dust reaching your nostrils? If it is fall, maybe the smell of leaves
starting to rot into the soil is filling the air? If it is winter, maybe a hint of woodsmoke,
or the musty smell of melting snow is accompanying you?
Is Jesus sharing any stories with you as you climb? Is he re-telling one of your favourite
parables? Is he recalling one of the
miracles he performed, putting his spin or interpretation on to it? Is he teaching you about what the kingdom of
the one whom he calls Father will be like?
At first the climb was easy, but the longer you climb the more of a drudge it
becomes. It is becoming harder and
harder to keep putting one foot in front of the other, one foot in front of the
other, one foot in front of the other.
But at last, the path starts to level off, and you have come to the top of the
mountain. You can see all of the land
unfolding around you on every side. How
do you feel in this moment? Has the
weariness of the climb fallen away from you, or are you ready to drop to the
ground and never get up again? Do you
feel exhilarated with a sense of accomplishment, or is there a twinge of
disappointment that this is all there is?
As you stand around, looking at each other, all of a sudden, we come to the
moment of transfiguration. Jesus – the
one who trudged up the mountain beside you, the one who shared stories with you
as you climbed – Jesus is now radiating an unearthly bright light. If you couldn’t see him before because he was
keeping his face in the shadows, now you can’t see him because it is too bright
to look directly at him.
But as you look around, with the hilltop bathed in this bright light, you
notice two other people have joined you.
And you don’t know how you know, but somehow you know that they are
Moses and Elijah, two of the great prophets of your ancestors.
How do you feel in this moment? Is it
excitement or fear or awe or peace or what, flowing through your veins in this
moment?
Remember that you have a couple of your friends with you. Which one of you is the Peter of your group,
needing to fill the holy moment with words?
Is it you, or is it one of your friends?
“Oh, but it’s good to be here! Let’s build tents so that we can stay
here and preserve this moment!”
And then a cloud descends on the mountaintop, but the brightness is still
there, illuminating the fog, so it feels as though you are bathed in the
light. And you hear a voice coming from…
somewhere… “This is my son, my chosen one, my beloved one. Listen to him.”
And while these words are still echoing across the hillside, the fog lifts and
the brightness fades, and it is an ordinary day on the top of that hill you
have climbed.
And in silence, you, your friends, and Jesus, pick up your bags, and start
putting one foot in front of the other again, as you make your way down the
mountain, and back here to this space.
I don’t know if you have ever had a mountaintop experience (which may or may
not have taken place on a literal mountaintop) like the one in today’s
story. I have a couple of stories, but
they will keep for another day. The
spiritual mountaintop is a good place to visit – as Peter said, “Lord, it is
good for us to be here!” – but I don’t think that it is a place where we could
stay. Even Jesus left the mountainside
and the very next story is a story of healing.
The work of the church, the work of the Body of Christ, tends to take
place in the valley rather than on the mountaintop.
But there is a song by the Gaither’s – maybe some of you know it – called “God on the Mountain.” The chorus begins,
“For the God on the mountain, is still God in the valley.” Even when we leave the mountaintop behind,
God goes with us still. Mountaintop
experiences can give you a boost or an injection of faith, but never ever doubt
that God is with you, even when you are trudging through the valleys of life.
As Paul wrote to the Philippians, “our citizenship is in heaven.” Even when we get bogged down in concerns of
this earth – and you know as well as I do, just how many cares and worries
there are in the world these days; I don’t need to list them out for you – even
when we get bogged down in the cares and concerns of the world, we can remember
the mountaintop, and remember that our citizenship ultimately lies with God.
We aren’t free to ignore the cares and concerns of the world – like I said
earlier, the work of the Body of Christ takes place in this world, as we spread
the love and the healing and the hope and the joy of Christ. But we don’t need to let the cares of the
world pull us into despair, because we know that God is with us, and we know
that God’s kingdom will be the true end of the story.
This week’s Call to the church is “Deep Spirituality” and to me, that is what
this is all about. Knowing that God is
with us, drawing our strength from God’s presence, and nurturing our spirits,
whether we are on the mountain or in the valley, so that we can keep putting
one foot in front of the other, not as a slog, but as a dance of joy!
And may it be so. Amen.
“Cathedral of Christ the Light”
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