But Only Jesus

But Only Jesus Transfiguration Sunday - February 14, 2021 - 2 Kings 2:1-12 - Psalm 50:1-6 - 2 Corinthians 4:3-6 - Mark 9:2-9 Who is the real Jesus? Is it the one who gets his hands dirty with the mud and spit of this world, or is it the one who stands on the mountain top and glows with a radiance divine? Well, of course, the answer is yes! Yes, it is both. The human Jesus and the divine Christ. The transcendent part of the Trinity of God, and the human laid in a manger and nailed to a cross, the one who walked and taught and healed and loved on earth just like you and me. Yet not like us. More than us. A glimpse of what we might be. A hint of what we were created to be. An invitation and a hope. We find outselves standing on the mountaintop with Peter and John and James. And we watch Jesus do something unexplainable. At its heart, the event presents the "otherness" of Jesus, even as it celebrates his oneness with his followers. There is always more to Jesus than we can know or figure out. And that's a good thing. We worship one who can still take our breath away in wonder and awe. At the same time, in the face of the awestruck wonder, there is also a call to follow, to stay close to the one we worship. Even the voice on the mountain told us to listen to him. We are to tell anyone and everyone. We are to live our telling, walk our proclamation. But the key will be for us to keep the focus off ourselves and our successes and failures and instead keep our eyes on the Christ. That's the emphasis of "But Only Jesus." We are surrounded by distractions and responsibilities. We are overwhelmed by injustice and oppression; we are almost overwhelmed by needs and brokenness, our own and that which envelops us. But in the end, it is only Jesus. The source of the strength and the focus of our attention is only Jesus. To be sure, this does not mean that we don't care about that which surrounds us. In fact, if anything, we are even more eager to be at work in the world, bringing hope and healing, bringing justice and freedom. But it is not to our own benefit that we work in the world, but only Jesus. "He changed in front of them," it says. So what happened on that mountain six days after a conversation about suffering and death? Something. Hard to say, except by repeating the words that we read there. He was transfigured; he was changed before them. What they were used to seeing they no longer saw; and something they hadn't seen before suddenly became evident to their frightened eyes. And what did they see? Something indescribable. Luckily, there were aids to their seeing all around them to help them define what it was that had happened in front of them. First of all, there were those other guys. Mark says it was Moses and Elijah. How did they know who it was? Did they come with name tags? Were there prompters running around with signs? Or was it one of those "they just knew" kind of things? Maybe Moses had his famous staff - the staff by which he parted the sea and then struck the rock to get water. Maybe Elijah had his wilderness clothes on, a John the Baptist motif that showed he was a man of the desert, a man uneasy with so-called human civilization. Maybe it was a wild look in his eyes. Maybe Jesus called them by name when they appeared. We don't know, because not a lot of attention is paid to the two of them. They were there as props; they were scenery for the lead actor; they were in supporting roles on this day. It wasn't about them. They represented the law and the prophets, the story of the people of God, the heights of the Chosen People. But they were there to draw attention to the one who was the Word of God, who was the Presence of God, Emmanuel, God-with-us. Then there was the voice. The only words spoken on that mountain top, well besides the rather unfortunate mumblings of a desperate disciple who just had to say something. Even Mark tries to shush him up by saying, "He didn't know what to say." No, not those words, but the other words. Or, to be more accurate, the Words. A few chapters earlier, there were the Words: "You are my Son, my Beloved, with you I am well-pleased." Now the Words say, "This is my Son, the Beloved; listen to him." The first Words are directed to the one being baptized, the one launching a ministry and a hope. These mountain top Words are to those who would seek to follow that one. To us, the followers at a distance. "Listen to Him. To the Beloved Son." To the changed one, the revealed one. Pay attention. Pay attention to what? To the change? To the glow, to the fireworks, to the power and the glory? Well, yes. And no. In what context do we usually use the word metamorphosis? I remember science class and talking about butterflies. The process of changing from a rather ugly worm-like caterpillar into the fragile but breathtakingly beautiful butterfly is metamorphosis - change. Or maybe it was in earth science, and we were talking about metamorphic rock. Melted by the heat of the earth's core, the rock flows from one form into another. But here's the question: "Which is the true form of the rock or the creature?" Or is the before and the after both a part of the whole? Is it a matter of perspective and a matter of timing? Where you are and when you are allows you to see one truth as opposed to another. What happened on that mountain was not so much a change into something different, but a revealing of the essence of the one who was changed. Jesus became who he was on that mountain, even though he was who he was as he climbed up and then down again. He is always who he is; he is always present in the fullness of his being. We can see only a part of him, the part we need at any given moment. We experience only a piece, a dimension of the reality that is the Christ. And we get used to that; it becomes familiar to us. But every now and then, we catch a glimpse of something larger, something deeper and more profound. Every now and then, we hear a word that reverberates in our soul for weeks if not a lifetime. Every now and then, a tear comes to our eye as we stand on the precipice of glory. Every now and then, a lump comes to our throat as we encounter the depths of love and sacrifice. Every now and then, we climb a mountain and see what it is that we are following in what is most often the darkness of this life. Every now and then, we move a little closer, grow and little taller, move a little closer, and listen a little better. Then we can realize that who and what we are, even as we grow and change on the discipleship path, is possible because of him. Only Jesus. Our "Follow Me" series ends where it began, with a contemplation of the one we follow. We began at the river, where Jesus, dripping from the waters of his baptism, hears a voice of approval and sending. We end with Jesus glowing on a mountain peak, with a voice announcing to all have ears to hear that this is indeed the very Son of God and that it would be in our best interest to listen to him. Following Jesus means, in the first place, listening to him. But only Jesus means that at the center of our choosing, our thinking, our doing is the person of Christ, who guides and directs us, loves and redeems us, and supports and strengthens us. This experience of worship is an unashamed celebration of Jesus, who was revealed on the top of the mount of transfiguration as the fullness that we need. He steps into the role of the light of the world. The season of Epiphany is framed by light, and here the light is revealed, is given. Like the three disciples in that moment, we don't always know what to do with it, how to respond to it. But we know we want it; we want to dwell in it. We want that light to remove all the darkness from our lives. So celebrate the light. Follow the light. Embrace the light. O Holy One, on mountaintops and valley floors you reveal to us the light of your love. Our hearts desire is to bask in the amazing glory of the divine presence. With each encounter we are changed and transformed. Draw us nearer that we might receive a double portion of your Holy Spirit. Help us, O Holy One, to live our lives as a reflection of divine glory. May we walk among our brothers and sister as a blessing, bearing light into dark places, hope to displace despair, and love that casts out hate. Our world is hurting and we need the followers of Jesus to follow more closely. Maybe then we will hear your voice speaking to us and saying, ... "listen to my Child, the Beloved!" Amen.