Speechless

Children’s Sermon

Anybody know a good clean joke they can share? (space for them or my bad ones)

Jokes work because the set up gives you the impression one thing is going to happen (or is just straight confusing), but then the punchline goes a different direction.

Today’s Old Testament lesson is wild. The prophet Elijah is preparing for the end of his life. He’s made sure there’s someone to succeed him (Elisha). He tries to go off quietly, but Elisha insists on following. As they’re walking, suddenly there are flaming chariots coming between them that take Elijah away in a whirlwind.

If this were a movie, that would be the big dramatic climax. But the special effects aren’t actually the point. Elijah told Elisha (before he was taken up) that if he saw Elijah being taken, he would inherit a double portion of spirit. And so he did, Elisha went on to be a powerful prophet in his own right.

Would you like to know about the benefits of dried grapes.…. I’m raisin awareness.

Like a good joke or Elijah’s dramatic exit, God often gives us the setup and then waits to share the punchline. It’s easy to get caught up in the set-up: we want to see the big shiny evidence of power. But there’s always a punchline - God doesn’t show off just for the show. Everything is there to point to something more important and bigger - the punchline comes through in many different ways but it always come down to the same core principle. God takes care of us, always has, and always will.

May we not get so caught up in the special effects that we miss the point of the story. Let us pray.

Sermon

Moses goes away from the Israelite camp onto the mountain to receive the law. He speaks to God for days and comes back down, literally glowing. Elijah is taken up into heaven in a chariot of fire. These dramatic moments are the stuff of blockbusters. But even the largest special effects budget can’t save a movie without compelling plot and characters.

In the case of scifi novels, it’s not just about popularity and making money. Most science fiction and futurism is meant at least in part as a critique of today’s society and the directions it could head. If your reaction to HAL in 2001: A Space Odyssey is “wow, I really want an AI to help run my life too” you have definitely missed the point.

When 3 of Jesus’ closest disciples went up the mountain with him and suddenly Jesus was shining and talking with Moses and Elijah, they didn’t know what to do. They had a literal mountaintop experience but they (like people with starry eyes for special effects or future technology) lost the plot because they didn’t recognize the significance of what they were seeing.

In last week’s Gospel, Jesus left town when there were still miracles to be done, so he could share his message in the next town. The miracles helped people with their physical, mental, and emotional problems - but they weren’t actually the point. That was the mistake of Simon the magician in Acts, who tried to harness the Holy Spirit to do the amazing things he saw the apostles working, but to give himself power and renown, rather than to glorify God through demonstrations of God’s power. Things didn’t end well for him.

Peter and the others were afraid and didn’t know what to do or say. I imagine an awkward silence, like when I’m teaching a class and ask a question and no one wants to be the first to talk about the reading. Finally, Peter can’t take it any more (he was never one to keep quiet for long) and comes up with an idea.

And he does what we often do, and where our consumer culture tends to drive us. Everybody loves Star Wars? Let’s make an extended special edition! People buy extra candy around Valentine’s Day? Let’s start selling it the day after Christmas so the “special” opportunity gets extended. Peter shares his idea - “let’s build shelters for 3 of you to stay in.” This isn’t a weird idea from nowhere; it’s based on the Jewish festival of Sukkot (shelters or tabernacles) and also recognizes the need for onlookers to be shielded from beholding such a direct manifestation of God’s presence for long.

Honestly, I’m not sure I’d have come up with an idea nearly that good in the situation. But what does happen? God speaks from the clouds, mirroring Jesus baptism almost word-for-word - “This is my son, the beloved” but instead of ending “with whom I am well pleased,” God instead gives some advice that is immediately useful to the the disciples, saying “Listen to him!” Then, they wisely follow Jesus in silence down the mountain until he is ready to speak.

And what does Jesus say? Don’t tell anyone about what you saw until the Son of Man has risen from the dead!

I’m sorry, what? Here they have just seen dramatic evidence that Jesus is at least equal to the greatest figures of Israel’s history (and knows them personally, even centuries after their lives on earth). Why (and how) are they supposed to keep quiet about that?

We can’t build shelters and stay on the mountaintop (Peter’s suggestion), always seeking “peak faith” experiences. Those experience provide something for us to go back to when it’s hard to keep believing and persevering, but only if we leave them and go to live out our callings in the world. After all, you can’t go back to something you never left - and you can’t live out a full life if you are constantly trying to prolong the highs. To take the metaphor to singing, if a soprano, out of nowhere, just belts out a full-power high note and holds it for 30 seconds or more, it will grate on the ears and make people wonder what’s going on. But that same note becomes the triumphant climax of the Star Spangled Banner when they sing “O’er the land of the free” and let it ring - because there is contrast and because it takes meaning and significance from its context as the response (in the song) to the misery of waiting through the night fully expecting to behold every sign of defeat and failure.

Jesus knows that the transfiguration, like his miracles, may evoke holy awe, wonderment, and fear, but he also knows where he is headed and the reason he is here on earth, which is not to work miracles or to preach but to face down death once and for all and conquer sin and the devil through his crucifixion and resurrection. But the people of his time are not ready to hear and understand that message until they can see the plan come to fruition and put the pieces together. Even the disciples, as we’re told, don’t understand what his statements about rising from the dead mean and talk about it among themselves - and if they, who walk and eat and sleep with him, can’t draw the connections, others are unlikely to either.

So he tells the disciples to keep quiet, to hold the experience in their hearts, and to share about it - but not yet!

Yes, mountaintop experiences, when we behold God’s glory in our midst more fully, change us irrevocably. I remember sitting in the woods by the lake at Camp Lutherwood in Sammamish, Washington - part of a week of summer Bible camp in 5th or 6th grade, and feeling like my eyes were opened by what I heard and in the midst of that realization, surrounded by beauty, I felt like I “got it” and Jesus would guide all that I did. Many times, these experiences also occur when we have been at our lowest, in the midst of depression, grief, addiction, divorce, and other change and loss - providing a moment when we can finally see a way out from suffering toward hope. I’m sure many of you have had this kind of experience as well.

There is no undo button on these experiences. The change is real and lasting and they become guideposts that help center our path going forward. But they are not the substance of our faith or our lives - the road we walk on. Rather they serve as windows into the future and catalyze changes in how we choose to live our lives. The most powerful testimony is not “I had a vision or a realization that things could be different” but “I had a vision of how things could be and now they are!”

Jesus, at the Transfiguration and throughout Mark, recognizes that people aren’t ready - the time hasn’t come. And honestly in this age of social media and streaming, we should be able to get that. How many of you have had some critical moment of a book, movie, or TV show spoiled for you by someone talking about it before you got a chance to see for yourself? We even have whole etiquettes of how to avoid spoilers -things like if you post about a new episode on FB, put a warning at the top, then leave a few lines so the preview doesn’t spoil anything. And for goodness sake, don’t post an image that’s going to spoil something (unless it’s buried in the comments where people will only see it by choice).

Throughout Mark’s gospel, he gives people and demons alike the same instructions - “No spoilers!” We get a glimpse, like a sneak preview or a beta version of a new game - real but not yet complete.

Transfiguration is the end of the season of Epiphany for us. Wednesday, we return not to celebrate triumphantly that Jesus is the new prophet but to be marked with the Ash of last Palm Sunday’s crosses as a reminder that “from dust you have come and to dust you shall return.” Some of you may get annoyed that Lent is longer than Advent, even though the music is way less upbeat and fun. But there’s a reason it’s long. Advent, Christmas, Epiphany and Transfiguration give us the hope to make it through Lent (partly because we know what’s coming) on the strength and assurance of those mountaintop experiences. But there is no way around the journey to get there.

Jesus walked the long road to Jerusalem knowing what was coming, probably shaking his head at the party when he arrived in town. The disciples kept getting clues, enough that even if they didn’t really get it yet, they might be able to put the pieces together once they saw what happened. But for Jesus, for the disciples, and yes, for us, there is no path to the resurrection that doesn’t go through the cross.

Without the cross, Jesus doesn’t fully identify with us, just as we, without going through challenges and suffering, can’t fully empathize with others.

Without the cross, Jesus’ ministry is that of a teacher and miracle worker, but not a savior. Just so, a faith that has never been challenged looks from the outside like privilege and, if it is hopeful at all, it is the empty hope of the American Dream - if I work hard and get lucky and believe the right things, I can avoid many trials.

We should absolutely rejoice in the highs of faith. Easter and summer camp are (and should be) parties, just as Holy Communion is every Sunday. But if we take God seriously when he shows us his Son and says “listen to him!” then we must also come down from the mountain, listen, and wait for the time to party again. It’s ok if we’re afraid or confused. God didn’t say “This is my Son. Figure out how to convert everyone and call me when you’re done.” He said “This is my Son. Listen to Him.”

If we live lives truly transformed by our experience of making it through pain with the hope of God’s grace - we too may make people fearful or uncomfortable. Many a sincere faith conversation has started “I noticed something different about you that didn’t make sense to me.” We are called to speak out about our faith as well - go and preach the gospel to every creature - Jesus says in John. But the power of the witness is in our transformation. “Do not be conformed to this world but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” At Transfiguration, Jesus was very literally transformed. We may not glow visibly and may not even be able to immediately articulate how we are changed, but if we are walking with him to the cross and, through baptism to resurrection, there will be signs.