February 19, 2023
St. John’s United Church of Christ, Union, Illinois
Exodus 24:12-18; Matthew 17:1-9[1]
Moses had a lot on his plate. A
host of people had followed him out of Egypt, away from slavery, and toward the
Promised Land. Yet here, in the desert, they suffered. They needed guidance,
instruction, they needed the laws and commandments of God. Moses went up on the
mountain to receive the tablets of stone, and he received something more, as
well. “As he came down from the mountain with the two tablets of the covenant
in his hand, Moses did not know that the skin of his face shone because he had
been talking with God.” (E 34:29) The light of God remained with him as he led
the people of Israel to their new home.
The disciples had a lot to worry
about. Just a few days before, they had been told by Jesus of the coming
journey to Jerusalem, the suffering he would undergo at the hands of the elders
and chief priests and scribes, the imminence of his death, and they naturally
were deeply troubled. Peter had even tried to convince Jesus to take some other
path, saying, “God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.” (M 16:22)
We, too, try to avoid pain and
suffering, even if we know it is for the best. I don’t think anyone really
enjoys going to the dentist, or getting their blood drawn. We avoid emotional
pain, too, putting off hard conversations, avoiding certain topics at the
family gathering.
It may seem that, in a turbulent
and troubling world, the best way to keep from being hurt is stoicism, to shut
away emotion, to be indifferent to pain and pleasure. If you keep everyone at a
distance, don’t get involved, and build walls around your heart, you won’t have
to suffer. Don’t risk feeling wonder and you won’t risk feeling heartache. You
may not experience any pain or anger, but you won’t know joy and happiness
either. Your ability to feel emotions, like the use of muscles, will atrophy.
We each know the pain of loss, the
suffering of friends, the illness of a child, the career that has fallen apart,
the relationship that has soured. We can choose to smother the pain, to elude the
suffering. But what will we lose? Do we dare risk the pain of weeping in sorrow
if it means we will be able to cry out in joy when we celebrate?
Jesus isn’t a safe person to be
around, if you want to be a stoic. How many people were overwhelmed with joy at
the healing touch, cried out praise for being set free from evil spirits, and
reached out with trembling hands to touch his? How many times were the crowds
filled with awe? When he chastised the authorities, did it stir up their anger?
Jesus brings out our emotions, fills our hearts to overflowing, and makes us
hunger for justice, mercy, and peace.
If we walk the road with Jesus, if
we look with his eyes and hear with his ears, we can’t remain stoic. If we
follow the story of the first disciples, we can’t help but be moved by their
experience. The amazing joy and grace and kindness that caused them to follow
him on the dusty roads of Galilee. The crushing pain of the capture, trial, and
crucifixion. The overwhelming joy at the resurrection. If we push down our
feelings, we might not cry on Calvary, but we certainly won’t be struck with
awe on the mountaintop. If we don’t open our eyes when it is dark, we will
never know that light that shines in the darkness.
When J.R.R. Tolkien wrote his
masterpiece, The Lord of the Rings, he had known darkness and terror. He
had served in the trenches of the First World War, and he understood the power
of evil. Yet, he also knew the power of goodness, of hope, and of light. In the
story he wrote, Frodo and his companions are charged with destroying the One
Ring of power by taking it into the land of the evil Sauron. They know some of
the suffering and fear that they will face. The journey will become very dark
for Frodo.
The Fellowship has lost their
leader, Gandalf, and they recuperate in the land of the elven queen Galadriel.
She knows the darkness they face, perhaps better than any other. She offers the
companions gifts to help them on their quest. Galadriel’s gift to Frodo was
light. “She held up a small crystal phial: it glittered as she moved it, and
rays of white light sprang from her hand. ‘In this phial,’ she said, ‘is caught
the light of Eärendil’s star, set amid the waters of my fountain. It will shine
still brighter when night is about you. May it be a light to you in dark
places, when all other lights go out.”[2]
Frodo would face many terrors on
the journey to Mordor, and in one terrible moment he and his friend are trapped
by the giant spider, Shelob. In their darkest moment, the gift of light would
embolden them, give them courage to face the monster, and guide them to their
journey’s end.
Peter, James, and John were not stoics,
but they weren’t masochists either. Faced with terrors ahead, they sought a way
out, to avoid the suffering to come, not understanding that what was to come
must be. As Jesus was transfigured before them on the mountain, they tried to
hold on to this one amazing moment, to remain in the light of God’s power. Peter
said to Jesus, “Lord, it is good for us to be here; if you wish, I will make
three dwellings here, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.” (M 17:4)
Do we really have to face the future, the suffering we know is coming?
It was in that moment that God was
fully present. In the voice from the cloud, they heard the reassurance of God: “This
is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him!” (M 17:5)
Yes, you must face what is coming. You must go back down the mountain and face
the trial, the suffering, and the crucifixion. But this moment is the gift that
I give to you, my presence, my light, shining through Moses, Elijah, and Jesus.
My light shining in you. In all the chaos to come, the death, the loss, the
fear, the confusion, I will be with you. In the bewilderment, the amazement,
the hope, and the challenges to come, I will be with you. My light shines with
you, and my light does not go out. I care, and I love you, and I won’t ever let
you go.
We don’t get to meet Moses,
Elijah, and Jesus on the mountain top. We don’t get to see, as Moses did, the
appearance of the glory of the Lord,
like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain. The dazzling light of
Galadriel’s gift doesn’t shine for us. But when we face the world that is below
the mountain, when we face the world with the suffering and fear of the cross,
the world that may break us, we are not without the light of hope. The light
that shone from that mountaintop can shine in our own experiences of
transformation, hope, and grace. We may find the light in a sanctuary or a
hospital room, on a mountain trail or the sidewalk, in a moment where when the
sacred and the holy overcome our fears and give us hope.
We can choose to shut out the
light, to ignore the emotions, to carry on with stoic resolve. Or we can
remember that the light shines even in the dark places, that love and hope can
lift us up, and we are not alone.
What happened on the mountain was
God’s way of preparing the disciples for the journey they faced. They would go
together, companions, a fellowship encouraging one another with memories of the
light as they travelled the dark paths. The experience of knowing the true
nature of Jesus, the divine light that shone from him through them, would be
enough to sustain them through the crucifixion to the resurrection, and beyond.
As we enter the season of Lent,
whether you take more time for reflection, sacrifice luxuries, or take on a
spiritual discipline, I encourage you to experience your emotions more deeply.
I entreat you to look for the light of holiness that shines even in the
shadows. Remembering the transfiguration can sustain us as it did the disciples,
knowing that Jesus shines a light for us when all other lights go out. We can’t
avoid the sorrow and the struggle, but we can endure more than we know with the
assurance that God cares, God loves us, and God has given us a light that
remains.
[1] The
scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version
Bible, copyright © 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National
Council of the Churches of Christ in the
[2]
J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring (London: HarperCollins Publishers,
1954).
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