“Listen to Him” - Luke 9 28-36

February 14, 2010

Kay E. Huggins, New Life Presbyterian Church

Ah, mystical moments. Moments of intense beauty. Moments of inner peace. Moments of harmonic vibrance. Moments of expansiveness. Moments of sheer awe.

When such moments take over -- nothing is untouched: space, light, shape, time, color. The boundary lines between this and that dissolve. An unseen spirit envelops. A ripple, so gentle, it might otherwise be ignored, takes on ultimate significance. These moments have always occurred -- in every generation and every culture, spiritually gifted mystics have seen more, felt more, understood more and experienced the more of life. They have penetrated the distance between eyes and seeing, ears and hearing, hands and touching. Their classic announcement comes draped in various words and phrases:

All is One

One is All

Nothing Is

Everything Is

Eternal fullness

Absolute Emptiness

Peace

Passion

Yes

Articulate speech is an indication that the mystical moment is over. Communication ushers in the second phase of enlightenment. Remember the zen saying I quoted in the Thursday morning letter, “Before enlightenment, it was chop wood and carry water; after enlightenment...

Between before and after comes the word or phrase or in the case of today’s scripture, the story. Between is the tempting, teasing tidbit --- just a little slice of heaven --- offered that others might catch a glimmer of mystery or a snatch of unity. These between statements are often confusing, yet they are treasured. So, for a few moments, let’s examine the disciples’ mystical experience of the transfiguration. Let’s take it from the perspective of John, who being younger than James and less daring than Peter, was the least among the inner circle of disciples.

John was a sturdy man, a fisherman. He knew how to read the sky and the sea; he was strong enough to work all night setting nets on the inbound tide and all morning pulling them in on the outbound. As the second eldest, he took commands from his brother James. This suited John; he was a little shy about too much responsibility; he preferred to make his brother’s projects succeed rather than imagining his own. Because John knew well his place in family, he was content with his life. There was an easy air about him. John was always there, dependable as the day (or night) was long.

When Peter and James turned from their fishing nets to follow Jesus, John had to make his first decision. He knew, from the ancient pattern of family that formed his home, that if anything happened to James (untimely death, maiming accident, loss of mental capacities), John was to step up as the guardian of the family’s future. All the responsibilities (managing the family business) and privileges (inheriting half of all the family resources, rather than a slim percentage of half) that fell naturally to the first born son. As his brother turned to leave, John should have claimed James’ place, taken responsibility for the boats a nets and enjoyed a secure life as the next-in-line for family prominence.

But, John also turned. He continued to follow his brother’s footsteps. He left boats and nets, family and future behind and walked with Simon Peter and James. The next few months were unlike anything John could have imagined. He was part of a small traveling band of Jesus’ followers. They walked long, hot, dry days from village to village. They were welcomed by the hospitality of godly families. They spent long nights discussing God’s word and longer afternoons listening to Jesus teach. At times, John felt it was just too much: too many words, too many lessons, too many catchy stories, too many abrupt twists of logic. He was a fisherman, after all, and now on dry land, working imagination rather than muscle, he felt slightly dizzy everyday.

And there was more...beyond the lessons, Jesus also healed, exorcized and converted village madmen into docile kin. John was very uncomfortable whenever a mysterious change occurred. He wondered about Jesus’ power -- whether it might be, perhaps one unexpected day, directed at him. John, having left his home and a secure future, felt already sufficiently changed. He was not interested in being “healed, exorcized or converted.” He was content to be the least in the inner circle of three, to follow in his brother’s steps and to help out Jesus from a safe distance.

Do you recognize John’s feelings? Have you ever been glad that God’s gracious hand cupped around someone else...and not you? Have you ever observed another’s mystical experience and thought it too much for you? Such thoughts occur to some; not only those with big brothers, but also those who feel secure in their lives. Having fashioned a good life, the last thing many people want is God mysteriously messing with it. Let’s be gracious with John, even as we are gracious to ourselves.

I’m sure, after a while, John relaxed into his position among the disciples. Lessons and parables became familiar paths for his mind; healings and exorcisms meant extended contact with joyful (or fearful) family members; even Jesus’ frequent trips into the wilderness for prayer retreats became a common aspect of everyday. It wasn’t chop wood and carry water, but John did know and appreciate the rhythm of his life.

And then, it happened.

In the middle of a prayer retreat, when John’s eyes were heavy with sleep, but his mind sufficiently nimble to keep him awake, he saw what he never wanted to see. It began as light -- light so intense it penetrated every rock, shrub, grain of sand...and person. As he looked into the light, his teacher’s face began to glow....radiant, golden, shining. He remembered the stories of Moses’ face glowing. John had always thought that a storyteller’s embellishment, but now...in this intense light...light so bright he could feel it...he thought differently.

Sweating, John knew not -- whether to prostrate himself or stand erect. The light was coming in waves now. Rocks, trees, path, the very ground upon which he stood was as a pulsing stream of brilliance. John rubbed his eyes: he saw Moses and Elijah talking with Jesus. He felt light, as if he were floating upward, no downward, no in a circles or a spiral...he reached out to grasp something firm...but his hand seemed to melt into the golden stream surging around him.

Then, Peter spoke, “We’ll build three memorials ; one for Moses, one for the prophet and one for you, Lord. We’ll make a safe sanctuary where you can dwell forever. Here on Mount Tabor; here where heaven and earth embrace.”

But Peter’s words swirled away as lavish mist softened the air. Suddenly John was alone, this time in a cloud so dense he could not see his own hand in front of his face. Part of him wanted to scream or run and part of him sensed peace and wanted to stay; John went with the feeling of peace and gave himself to the cloud.

Then, he saw only Jesus. Then, he heard only these words:

This is my son, my chosen and beloved;

Listen to him!

Then, silence. Then, the rocks were rocks again, a raven called from the valley, somewhere a snake slithered into a crevasse. Above John wisps of clouds caught the rosy color of sunset. Beside John, James and Peter stood -- their faces full of wonder. Ahead, Jesus was already heading down the hill, back to the others. The three disciples looked at each other; their eyes confirmed what their lips could not speak. They knew. They understood. They were. Turning down the mountain, a thick silence enwrapped them.

It would be years before they found the way to tell this tale. But, from that moment on, the transfiguration lived within them as surely as God’s spirit abides in a sanctuary. They went back to their life with Jesus --- back to lessons and parables, exorcisms and healing, back to dinner with sinners and dangerous discord from religious leaders. They went back to their version of chop wood and carry water....

Except that now as they chopped wood they felt that great light within and now as they carried water they repeated the words of Jesus. Those disciples became the sanctuary for God’s presence on earth...and because they did so, we are here today. We are those who trust a mystical experience handed down to us through words. We are those who believe that the little slices of heaven we’ve experienced bring us into the same light that surrounded the disciples. We are those who keep listening to Jesus, because his words are light and energy and harmony and hope and life to us. So be it. Amen.